Prologue
Anyone up for an angsty Karamel Human AU? I don't want to reveal much here but know the first chapter is probably coming out in August but I'm teasing it now because I kinda already have a lot of ideas.
Mon-El inserts the key into the lock, swinging open the door to Kara's apartment. With a hopeful tone, he calls out her name, but the silence that greets him makes him pause.
As he steps inside, his eyes fall upon the chaos that adorns the living room. Her belongings and clothes are strewn haphazardly, hinting at a night of passion or a wild evening drowned in alcohol. A soft chuckle escapes his lips at the rare sight before him, knowing that such situations are few and far between. Most of the instances he has witnessed were arguably influenced by Alex.
Surveying the scene with a discerning eye, and the lack of unfamiliar garments, he deduces that Kara is likely dealing with the aftermath of a hangover. So with a slight detour, Mon-El heads toward the kitchen and swiftly prepares a hangover-friendly breakfast. He meticulously crafts a veggie omelet with just the right amount of seasoning, a steaming cup of coffee to chase away the remnants of the previous night's indulgence, and a tall glass of refreshing water to rehydrate her most-likely parched body.
Although, Kara is already running late for work, Mon-El figures she might as well have a nourishing meal to ease her morning-after discomfort.
Setting the tray of food down on her cluttered coffee table, Mon-El takes a moment to gather some of her scattered belongings, a gesture that triggers a bittersweet smile. Oh, how the tables have turned. Once upon a time, it would have been Kara cleaning up after his drunken escapades. A somber sigh escapes him when acknowledging she has assumed that role far more often than necessary.
With the living room now slightly more organized, Mon-El quietly ventures into Kara's room, diligently returning her clothes to their designated places. As he enters her personal space, he can't help but let out a restrained laugh at the sight that greets him.
There she lays, sprawled across the bed, her legs stretched out sideways, and her head lolling off the pillow, a generous stream of drool leading up to her parted lips.
Mon-El can't help but acknowledge Kara's effort as he observes her clad in her pajamas. To her credit, she has managed to slip into them, although one sock remains partially hanging from her foot. A comical sight that he can't help but find amusing. He suppresses another chuckle, appreciating the little quirks that make Kara so endearing.
Calling her name once more, Mon-El approaches her, his steps gentle so as not to disturb her slumber. He settles down beside her, captivated by the tranquility that washes over the room.
"Good morning, sleeping beauty," he whispers, his voice carrying both tenderness and amusement. "You're late to work." He adds.
Kara emits an almost guttural groan, her grip tightening on the pillow as she turns away from him.
Mon-El's laughter ripples through the air, filling the room with warmth as he positions himself on her other side, facing her once more.
"No, Kara, seriously," he gently prods, his words laced with playful affection. "You're unbelievably late to work, wake up." He continues, adding a boop to her nose.
Reluctantly, she cracks open one eye, peering at him with a pout that tugs at his heartstrings. "Five more minutes, please," she pleads, her voice laced with a mix of longing and weariness.
Unable to resist her charm, Mon-El's laughter swells, his joyous mirth intertwining with her sleepy resistance. But with determination in his eyes, he attempts to rise from the bed, intent on lifting her gently in his arms. However, before he can make his move, Kara shimmies closer, wrapping her arms around his waist, effectively pinning him down.
"No... just a second, okay?" she pleads, resting her head gently on his lap and emitting a soft hum. "You smell good," she murmurs, the words tinged with a mixture of exhaustion and lingering effects of the previous night's indulgences.
A warm smile graces his lips as his fingers instinctively find their way into her silky tresses, his touch tender as he brushes strands of blonde hair away from her peaceful face. "And you smell like vomit," he teases.
After witnessing her expression morph into a mock pout, he reassures her, "But nothing a shower couldn't fix..."
"But I'm so tired, and you're so soft." Kara whines, as she instinctively buries her face deeper into his side, her voice muffled by his warmth.
Mon-El shakes his head, determination in his eyes. "Come on." He says, a little more firm. If he allows her to linger any longer, she will never rise from her slumber. "I made you breakfast. It's going to get cold," he insists.
With one last, melodramatic groan, Kara relents. "Fine, you win." She reluctantly crawls off her bed, her feet dragging her wearily toward the awaiting bathroom.
Seizing the opportunity, Mon-El tidies up a bit more and reheats the omelet, having underestimated the time it would take to coax her into action. Yet, he knows it's better than having to endure her complaints about missing breakfast before having to face Snapper.
As he busies himself, time ticks away, and soon Kara emerges from the bathroom, her appearance transformed. Without hesitation, she walks over to the kitchen table and plants a tender kiss on Mon-El's cheek.
Mon-El feels a faint blush creep across his cheeks, surprised by the unexpected display of gratitude. "What was that for?" he asks, curiosity evident in his eyes.
A radiant smile plays upon her lips as she speaks, her voice filled with warmth and appreciation. "For being such a good friend. I definitely would have kept sleeping and missed my deadline this afternoon."
Mon-El waves it off, his gaze softening. "It's no big deal, Kara. Just looking out for you."
Their gazes hold for a lingering moment before Kara's attention shifts, her eyes filled with adoration at the food in front of her.
"Listen, I'm going to be late for game night... I'm covering Megann's shift." Mon-El says. "She has a family thing."
"No worries." Kara nods, fully comprehending the situation. "Take your time. And if you end up missing it, it's not a big deal, you were busy," Kara shrugs nonchalantly, as if attempting to downplay the significance of the event, but Mon-El sees through her facade.
"Right, and it has nothing to do with Barry pulling my name out of the game partners' bag," he adds playfully.
A frown adorns Kara's features as she grumbles, "He stole you from me. You're my partner!"
Mon-El chuckles, his laughter filled with affection. "Come on, Kara. It's not really fair for us to win every time. You'll have fun!" Kara rolls her eyes, a playful glint shimmering within them.
"I have Alex," she retorts, her voice tinged with a mix of skepticism and fond exasperation. Mon-El tries his best to stifle his laughter, realizing the unpredictable dynamics that unfold whenever Kara and Alex are paired together.
"Don't laugh at me!" she protests, punctuating her words with light taps against his arm. Mon-El quickly ceases his laughter, adopting a contrite expression.
"Ow! Okay, I'm sorry!" he exclaims, surrendering to her playful assault. He ceases laughing when she releases his arm, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I promise to be super late," he assures her.
Kara chuckles, a warm sound that resonates with his own amusement. "Thank you."
Glancing at his watch, Mon-El realizes he needs to depart swiftly. "Gotta jet. Megann's shift starts now." As he kisses the top of Kara's head, intentionally ruffling her curls, he swiftly evades her retaliatory swipe, sprinting away from her playfully outstretched hand.
Later that night, as the designated time for their gathering nears, neither Alex nor Mon-El have showed up, leaving Kara growing increasingly concerned. She calls them both repeatedly, her worry escalating with each unanswered ring. Frustration and anxiety fill her voice as she finally reaches Alex, who informs her that she has been caught up at work and can't make it.
Kara's concern shifts entirely to Mon-El, her mind plagued with thoughts of his whereabouts and well-being. With a furrowed brow, she enlists the help of Winn and Barry, determined to find him.
The trio embarks on a search, starting at the local bar where Mon-El has been working. However, their inquiries yield no trace of him. The bartender mentions that he has left at the end of his shift, hours ago.
Puzzled, they move on, checking Winn and Mon-El's shared apartment as a possibility, but Mon-El is nowhere to be found. Kara's worry escalates, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios. She is ready to involve the police, fearing something terrible has happened her best friend, but Barry interjects, explaining the protocol of waiting 24 hours before reporting a missing person.
The frustration and impatience well up inside Kara, her emotions threatening to overflow. Just as she is about to voice her dissent and call the police anyways, her phone pierces the tense silence, jolting her into attention. It is Alex again. Kara's heart skips a beat, relief washing over her momentarily at the thought that maybe Alex knows where Mon-El is. But in an instant, her hope gets shattered by the next words that fall from her sister's lips.
"Kara..." Alex's voice trembles as she delivers the gut-wrenching news. "M-Mon-El is in the emergency room...i-it's not looking too great."
The world seems to crumble around Kara as she absorbs the gravity of the situation. Without hesitation, they race to the hospital, fear and desperation filling Kara's face.
Tears well in her eyes, threatening to spill over as she frantically approaches Alex, pleading for access to see Mon-El. Alex's sigh is heavy with both sorrow and understanding, realizing that there is no point in arguing. She summons her resolve and manages to convince a nurse to allow them entry into the room.
What Kara witnesses upon entering the hospital room is a sight too horrifying to put into words. Mon-El's face, swathed in multiple layers of gauze, stands as an unrecognizable mask. His fractured arms lay limp and immobilized, bearing witness to the pain inflicted upon him. A deep, savage gash mars his hand, a stark reminder of the brutality he endures. Both of his legs are ensconced in rigid casts, elevated in an effort to alleviate his suffering.
Kara's voice becomes lodged in her throat, rendering her incapable of uttering even a solitary syllable to Alex. With trembling steps, she approaches the bedside where Mon-El lies, her every movement tentative and laden with trepidation, afraid of inflicting further harm upon his fragile state.
But before Kara can reach him, her heart shatters into a million pieces. Mon-El flatlines, plunging the room into an abyss of despair.
Time seems to freeze as her eyes widen in disbelief, refusing to accept the harsh reality before her. Desperation claws at her very core, propelling her forward in an attempt to reach him, to offer any modicum of solace. However, Alex swiftly interposes, firmly holding Kara back, shielding her from the anguish that courses through her being.
"Alex no!" Kara's anguished cries fill the sterile air, their echoes reverberating off the unforgiving walls as a flurry of medical professionals race into action to revive Mon-El. Chaos swirls around Kara, her voice raw with anguish as she screams his name, "Mon-El", an anguished plea for him to come back to her.
Alex's own tears threaten to spill over, her heart wrenching at the sight of her sister's unimaginable pain. This level of grief is incomprehensible, unveiling Kara's vulnerability in its rawest form.
"No! Mon-El! Please, don't leave me a-again!" Kara's voice splinters, each word choked by desperation and sorrow. Her body trembles, weakened by the weight of her anguish.
In a united effort, Barry and Winn assist Alex in pulling Kara away from the devastating scene. Kara's body thrashes and contorts in anguish, her cries piercing the air, her entire being consumed by a grief so profound that Alex questions if she has witnessed such pain from her sister before. Tears run down her own cheeks as she holds onto Kara, both physically and emotionally, trying to provide a shred of comfort amidst the unyielding pain.
"Let me go!" Kara fights hard against the confines of her friends' embrace, her heart wrenching to be reunited with Mon-El's side. "Mon-El! Wake up!" Hot tears stream down her face, blurring her vision as she strains to reach him, as if her touch could breathe life back into his broken form.
But Mon-El remains motionless, his body unresponsive to her anguished cries and the futile sparks of electricity coursing through the medical equipment. Time seems to stand still, encapsulated in an eternal moment of sorrow.
"Don't go..." Kara whispers, her voice raw and shattered, reverberating through the hospital corridors, carrying her shattered soul's cry for the love she has lost.
The relentless passage of time seems to mock Kara's shattered world as the doctors exchange somber glances. With heavy hearts, they approach Mon-El's lifeless body, their hushed murmurs carrying the weight of an irrevocable truth. At precisely 11:05 pm, the words that shatter Kara's spirit fall from their lips, cutting through the air like a knife.
Mon-El is gone.
The finality of those words crashes over her with brutal force, plunging her into a desolate abyss.
The early morning sunlight spills through the curtains, casting a feeble glow upon the man with disheveled brown hair and weary gray eyes. His reflection stares back at him through the bathroom mirror, the lenses of his prescription glasses tinged with a hint of sorrow. Drops of water trickle down his tired face as he mechanically dries his hair, their descent mirroring the heaviness that weighs upon his soul.
He moves through the motions with a sense of resignation, selecting a button-down shirt and dark jeans that conceal his true emotions. The fabric clings to him like a mask, disguising the turmoil that brews within. As he peers into the mirror, the glimmer of confidence in his eyes flickers momentarily, overshadowed by a profound sense of loneliness.
Leaving the solitude of his bedroom, he ventures into the kitchen, greeted by the bittersweet aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the remnants of a solitary meal. He pours a bowl of cereal, its taste dull against the backdrop of his solitude. Each bite feels hollow, a reminder of the emptiness that lingers within him, despite the nourishment his body receives.
Time slips away, signaling the approaching hour of departure. As he gathers his belongings, his gaze wanders to the window hanging near the front door. The outside world beckons, filled with faces and connections he yearns for but can't have. With a lingering glance, he absorbs the view outside, a tableau of life and companionship that feels forever out of reach. It serves as a cruel reminder of his isolated existence.
With a heavy sigh, he straightens his posture, the weight of his circumstances pressing down upon him. The facade he wears grows heavier with each passing day, concealing the depth of his longing. Yet, in that moment, a flicker of determination ignites within his eyes, a faint glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, things could change.
As he crosses the threshold of his home, he steps into a world that offers no solace, no understanding of his hidden pain. Each stride carries him further from the window, from the faint glimpse of a life he has once known. Deep within his fractured heart, a yearning burns relentlessly, an ache for the connection and belonging he has lost.
But as he passes the window, Mon-El's desolate gaze fixates on the outside world, a silent plea for someone to see through his disguise, to offer him respite from the solitude that consumes him. The truth of his predicament, the lack of agency that brings him here, festers beneath the surface. And so, he trudges forward, bearing the weight of his involuntary solitude, his true emotions concealed within the shadows, longing for a glimmer of hope to guide him through the darkness.
