Title: The Pretty Face, The Funeral and Lex [Sequel to What Are You Doing New Year's Eve]
Rating: PG-13 [currently]
Pairing: CLex and maybe a few others
Summary: Clark tries to overcome the past and save Lex. Lex tries to move on without the burden of love. Chloe and Pete act as backups respectively.
Disclaimer: I don't own them but my muse forces me to abuse them.
Feedback: PLEASE! I understand that it has been so long since I have posted [except for the recent two works] and that this is not one of the stories that some of you are looking for. That withstanding, I still beg.
Email Address: nymph_du_pave@hotmail.com
Note: This is an on-going work that I am posting on my Livejournal (The Sun-Beaten Puddle, ) as well. I post first there, then I post another chapter there and the previous one here. That way the Livejournal is always one chapter ahead and if the story ever turns NC-17, I can link there for chapters that I might skip. Also, the chapters are going to be fairly short. This is a little more artsy than my other stuff and might have some heavy angst.
The Pretty Face, The Funeral and Lex
by Nymph Du Pave
"And I know things can't last forever. But there are lessons I will ne-ver learn."
Pretty Baby
Vanessa Carlton
Clark: Events Change Reality
"Somehow," she reads. "I don't know how, but we just fell apart. And that was it."
God, I love the world when the sky is as black as a clean, glossy Lincoln and the atmosphere feels crisp, the night wind blowing through the crevices in my gelled hair. There is nothing that you want for in that moment. There is 'is'. There is 'now' but even that only lasts for as long as you can say the word, then it is gone, it passes and you cannot get it back again. You're in that moment and your heart remembers it for the times that you sit doing bills or washing dishes. Raking leaves, standing over a grave that was dug much to early. Remembering a pretty face that you thought lead you down the right path but instead only pulled you farther and farther away until one day, finally, you realize just what you're missing but that it might just be damned near impossible to get.
I pull over into the empty HOV lane. It's one o'clock in the morning and even I-95 looks like a lonely desert road with the mirage of civilization all around. I let my foot add 15 miles to our speed and take a quick glance above me, at the moon, a white bloch on all that perfect ebony. A spot of bleach on an otherwise perfectly black tee shirt.
The stars aren't shining and I pretty sure that means something ominous to someone out there but tonight I just don't give a God-damn. Driving this old convertible El Dorado is an instant of freedom that is solely mine.
Blurry plays on the radio and another sign passes overhead. Miami - South. It's about thirty more miles and then I'll be there. Be there to stop ten o'clock. Well, maybe I cannot stop the clocks themselves, but I can advert his attentions to other activities. Stop that beautiful misery that he loves so much from taking him over. That's why I'm driving, that's why I'm following.
"That a savior at heart could not look upon them" Chloe reads allowed, letting her free hand - the one not holding my book, my works - out the window, flying up and down through the air, up and down. "And see something worth saving, that he could not pull one singular excuse to postpone their horrible executions from the minds that there were kept... Nay, that he longed to, instead of staying their bloody deaths, be the cause of their nullified existances... This would be, to the honest man, a frightening concept."
I once again thought of the pretty face, the funeral and Lex. Things that confuse me. But I've realized that the more confused I am the more blissfully unaware of reality I am and the happier I tend to be.
Next: Shism