The city stretched endlessly beneath them, a sea of lights flickering like distant stars, indifferent to the storm of emotions raging inside Clark. He sat motionless on the rooftop, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. His mother was gone. His father had been gone long before. His secret was out. The murmurs of fear, the accusing whispers—none of it mattered anymore.
Footsteps.
Clark didn't move, didn't even acknowledge her presence. The rooftop door had creaked open, but he remained still, his gaze fixed on the skyline. The wind howled softly, ruffling his dark hair, but he remained like stone—silent, broken.
Chloe stood there, her chest heaving with the remnants of her desperate run to find him. Her heart ached at the sight before her. Clark, the strongest person she had ever known, looked like a man who had lost everything. And he had. She knew it. She felt it.
She swallowed hard and slowly walked to him. No words. No hesitation. She just dropped beside him, wrapping her arms around his large frame, holding him as tightly as she could.
He didn't move.
He didn't react.
He didn't even breathe.
The silence between them was deafening, a void filled with pain so deep it could drown them both. Chloe's body trembled against his, but she refused to let go. She buried her face into his shoulder, gripping him as if she could hold him together when he was on the verge of shattering completely.
Then, after what felt like an eternity, his lips finally parted.
"It's over, Chloe."
His voice was hollow, devoid of anything except finality.
Chloe's heart clenched at those words. No. It wasn't over. It couldn't be.
She lifted her head, staring at his profile, searching for something—anything—that remained of the Clark she knew. His eyes were empty, distant, staring past the city as if he no longer belonged there.
Desperation surged inside her. She wouldn't lose him. Not like this.
Without a second thought, she cupped his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his—fierce, desperate, full of everything she had buried inside her for so long. A confession. A plea. A promise.
Clark didn't move. He didn't push her away, but he didn't respond either. He was frozen, caught between the darkness threatening to consume him and the warmth she was trying to bring him back to.
But Chloe wouldn't stop. She deepened the kiss, pouring every ounce of emotion she had into it, her hands shaking as she clung to him.
And then, she pushed him down, his back hitting the cold rooftop.
Clark stared up at her, his expression unreadable, but Chloe could see it—the cracks in his armor. The grief. The loneliness. The pain.
She kissed him again, her touch softer this time, but no less desperate. And there, in the quiet night, wrapped in each other's warmth, they made love.
For Chloe, it wasn't just about passion—it was about saving him. About anchoring him to something real. To her. To love.
Because no matter what happened next, she wasn't going to let him go.