He was growing restless. More restless than he had been a week ago.
Lana Lang just didn't know what to do anymore. The more she pried, the further he withdrew. Not only from her, but from everyone else. His mother had tried talking to him earlier in the week, but eventually, withdrew into her own state of misery. Lana could hardly judge, since she'd never lost a husband, much less been married.
But she had been--was--in a relationship with someone. Well, if you could call it a relationship.
Every night for the past week, she'd walk the familiar steps to his loft and gaze at his lone figure, shadowed by the setting sun. She'd take a seat at his couch, knowing that he would come to her once the last ray of light had fallen. Then, she'd gently prod him, until he would say softly, but audibly, "Go home, Lana."
And she did. She went home and wept silently for him. The tears would never make up for the father he had lost, but she cried anyway.
Everyday, she continued to walk up those steps. And everyday, nothing changed. She watched him, and he sent her home to cry. Until one day, something changed.
He was no longer forlorn, but restless. Restless about what, she did not know. She dared not ask him, as she sat on his couch, her eyes drooping from sleep.
She felt his eyes on her and she knew what was coming. She looked up, almost defiantly into his eyes, waiting for it.
It never came. Instead, he bent down, placed a tender kiss on her cheek and asked if he could walk her home. She said, "Yes" of course.
So it changed. He would ask her to walk her home every night, and she would say "Yes."
They did never did talk on their walks. Instead, they held hands, and listened to the silence of the night.
Then, one night, he said two words that made her fall even more in love with him. "Thank you."
She was speechless. But that was okay, he said.
After that night, he opened up some more, but their relationship was never the same. But that was okay, she said to herself.
On another night, on another walk, instead of walking her home, he walked her to the graveyard. There, he led her to his father's grave and traced the engraving on the tombstone. It was there that he broke her heart.
"I have to leave."
"I know," she said. "You've been too restless."
"I'm sorry."
She shook her head and brought up a hand to trace the contours of his cheek. "So am I."
The next day, he packed a bag, kissed his mother, and left town while she stayed behind. That night, she did not weep. She smiled, for she knew that he was no longer restless.