Disclaimer: - All characters etc don't belong to me only the plot driving them.
Well Hello strangers long time no see. And its only a brief interlude today I'm afraid. I've been really busy just lately and on top of that my imagination seems to be a little thirsty at the moment. So forgive me. I read some advise the other day that you shouldn't publish a story until you have written it fully. If I waited for that with mine you might never have seen it. It gives me encouragement seeing it up and accessible and it's a lot longer and more likely to be finished doing it this way. Hope this brings my plot bunny back, and gives you reason to persevere with my sporadic ramblings. Becky
I watch her as she sips the chocolate that I placed into her hands just a few minuets ago. In a pair of training bottoms and my university sweater she looks adorable and delicately fragile at the same time. What transpired tonight has affected us both but I think that its force knocked her more than me, I have developed a buffer against this she hasn't.
Chloe was on such a high this evening the nerves she must have experienced about the performance followed by our argument and finally the discovery of our relationship by what seemed like half of Smallville was quite a heavy load even for her. I know she appears confidant, and tough skinned but some of that is an act to stop people from getting too close, she hides something from us, from Clark, her dad, Lana even me.
I don't know if she will ever tell any of us.
I hope she will but I won't force her hand.
If she feels ready to tell me, she will.
I remain still distanced from her not touching physically or emotionally, I need for it to be her that makes the first move.
I know why he doesn't touch me; he needs me to make the first move to show him I don't blame him for what happened tonight. It anything it was my fault, why did I think that I could do that again? I don't sing.
I
Don't
Sing
It had caused pain before and now it had struck again. Why did I think that I could ever get past it this thing following me, lurking in the woodwork waiting to strike?
Glancing up I unfurl myself from the couch and settle on using Lex as a headrest we sit in silence each of us contemplating the light that tomorrow would bring. I feel the recognition as we connect to each other like a bulb in a socket it lights the room but leaves some areas in a yellow light less bright. As yet not all things could be clearly formed and some had yet to be exposed.
Snagging the marmite off Lex I seat myself behind the table positioned in the centre of the largest kitchen I had ever seen. The clean lines of the surfaces glistened and the coldness of their plane didn't do anything to reduce the heat radiating around the room. The night had been slow and balmy giving way in the early light to a bright and rising ignition of heat. Finding myself in his arms in that in- between time I could realise why it is often called the bewitching hour, the hour of the fairies.
The Aurora also brought a quieting of my restlessness the fear and frantic emotions of the previous day had gone but replacing them were those not any less disturbing in nature just of a more amorous nature. Not that they were overtly sexual, well not entirely. Although I will say it does flicker across my mind periodically what it would be like to see if the smoothness, sharp, and dangerous edge that went in only a small way towards describing the individual that is Lex was echoed in his lovemaking. Feeling the crimson that must flicker across my cheeks I direct my thoughts to more productive thought patterns and to the issue that should be occupying my consciousness this morning: - my Farther.
Chloe makes a successful play for the marmite and I console myself to Marmalade not that it's a consolation because as she knows only to well herself Marmalade is a particular favourite of mine. It reminds me of my mother; she had been a firm believer in marmalade and had it religiously on her toast every weekend morning. Chloe is always reminding me that a child is the product of two people therefore I can forgive myself for relaxing the Lutherist ideals upheld by my farther. At this instance the object of my thoughts appears cast away in the fathoms deep depth that is her mind; it never ceases to amaze me where her imagination leads her. Noticing the ruby stain whispering across her cheeks I give her what would in Chloe's words would be called a smirk and in mine a wry smile.
Gabe Sullivan edges into my field as I look at Chloe; today is a reckoning the day of revelation. The time speeds forward towards the inevitable phrase: -
"Daddy I've, we've got something to tell you…"
