AN: Hello! I'm not dead!
I had posted this story on AO3 and totally forgot to post it here. Luckily for you, my FFN-only readers, you get the whole, complete story in one go, unlike my AO3 readers who had to wait an eternity for the second chapter. (I know some of you want more of my other stories. I'm getting there.)
Sit back and enjoy some angsty Supergirl fic with a fluffy ending. Leave a review if you enjoy this little thing.
Eyes pierced the dark cellphone screen, waiting to see it light up with a sign of life. Instead, the screen mocked her, taunted her as she went ignored. Lena Luthor had gone ignored for the past weeks by the only person she had ever come to care for. Kara had forgotten about her existence. A wine glass reached red-stained lips. How many drinks did she have? Not enough to forget her misery.
The abandonment Lena felt was not instant. First, the replies came less often. Lena could tolerate the postponed lunches; Kara was a busy reporter with a hard-ass boss. Lena understood. But when the excuses became short and weak and nonexistent, Lena knew something was up. So, she called. The automated voice sending her to voicemail ridiculed her as she spoke a message lined with a pathetic tone of voice. Soft, begging. Urging.
Lena's heart begged to be near Kara. It was difficult to admit it, but she missed the quirky reporter. She missed those eyes that could read into her words and choke the air out of her lungs. She missed that radiant smile that never failed to create one of her own as it warmed up a piece of her long thought dead and cold.
Lena missed those rosy lips that called her name and told her everything would be alright. She ached for those lips to touch hers for the very first time.
She snorted to herself, picking up the near-empty bottle and drinking from it. What a pathetic mess she was now. The great, terrifying Luthor brought to her knees by a reporter that stole her heart. What were those walls for if not to protect herself from the world? How was it possible for one person to just bulldoze through them recklessly until she was left bare?
Now she was bare and alone. Again.
She knew why Kara had been ignoring her, however. Lena had played a part in sending Mon-El away. The man that stole Kara's heart. The man that broke Lena's because he took all that she had from her.
Bitter memories rose as she took another swill of her drink. Sudden smiles and laughter rising during lunch after receiving a message. Bright, wide eyes as Kara retold the events of game night the evening before, how she and Mon-El made a terrible team but still managed to beat the rest of her friends. How Kara couldn't do dinner next Tuesday because she had a date with Mon-El.
Mon-El. Mon-El. Mon-El.
It tore Lena. It tore at her shriveled soul that it was someone else and not her that caused those smiles. She wanted to be the cause Kara slept late because game night went on too long, or they had too many drinks, or the date went on too late. Every fiber of her being cried out to be at Kara's side at night.
"God, I really am pathetic."
The room spun as Lena stood from her couch, legs barely holding her up, the sound of her heels resonating around her dark and empty apartment. She walked out toward the elevator, not knowing where to go but needing to leave before she suffocated.
Everything blurred around her. She welcomed the cloud that came over her as the elevator moved downward. It was better than the misery that ate at her mind every night.
The elevator doors slid open. A man in a suit looked at Lena once, then again as he noticed her leaning onto the walls, clearly inebriated.
"Ms. Luthor, let me help you."
Lena let out a chuckle. "I'm fine, Adam. Just… just get me in the car. Drive. Don't care where, just drive."
"Yes, ma'am."
Lena waited by the elevator as Adam quickly walked away into the large parking garage. The bright lights and deafening sound of a car alarm going off in the nearby street forged a headache. Maybe leaving wasn't such a good idea. She had to, though. Being in her apartment with nothing but an empty bottle of wine wouldn't help Lena. There's always the whiskey.
Before Lena could make up her mind, a black car rode up in front of her. Adam emerged from the driver side and came around to open the door for his boss. She stumbled, holding onto the car to avoid faceplanting on the ground. Boy, was she out of it. Gaining her bearings, she slid into the back seat and let her head fall back as Adam closed the door.
Briefly, she wondered what Kara was up to. With Mon-El gone, what could possibly keep her? That was another thing that plagued Lena. Her selfishness. Kara was mourning. Or at least, she was trying to pretend nothing was wrong. Of course Kara would want nothing to do with her. How could she tolerate Lena when all she wanted was attention?
The city lights filtered into Lena's mind and she finally noticed the car was moving. She couldn't tell how far they had driven. All she could see were the street signs dashing by her. Every single place seemed to hold Kara's presence. A part of her hated that. Kara's essence permeated all of National City. Including Lena.
The car stopped at a red light. She took the moment to take in the surroundings. Or tried to. Everything was doubled, moving, shaking. All she could make out was the bright, neon sign of a tattoo parlor announcing its 24/7 services.
"Adam, park here."
The car turned and stopped near the corner of the curb. For a split second, Lena's insides wanted to escape through her mouth. She shook her head before going for the door. Adam opened it first, though, and she fell forward. Adam caught her, straightening her in her seat before helping her exit the car.
"Wait here," she instructed.
The perks of being a Luthor was that her name made her so terrifying that even when she was falling down drunk, her orders were still obeyed and never questioned.
She made her way to the sign, the streets of National City largely empty at the time. Lena wasn't sure, but it was probably close to midnight, if not already past it. Groggy arms pushed the glass door open. The smell of cigarettes and ink flooded her senses, causing her to nearly lurch as an electronic bell sound rang throughout the parlor.
"Coming," a voice announced from… somewhere. It was difficult to focus when rock music was blasting from everywhere. Lena found a chair and sat, reclining back on it. The feeling of the ripped leather under her palms woke something in her. What the hell was she doing inside a tattoo parlor? She wasn't 16 and she certainly wasn't the type for a tattoo. Luthors were immaculate; a tattoo tarnished the skin and image that she had to—
"Welcome to Rad Tats, girl. What are ya having?"
Lena looked up and peered at the figure in front of her. A man with a white t-shirt and jeans stood with his arms crossed, a cigarette between his teeth. Both of his arms held countless tattoos, some colored, others dark. Or maybe she just couldn't tell the difference between colors anymore.
What was she having, though? A mid-life crisis?
"Yeah, I, uh… I'm getting a tattoo."
Guess I'll find out.