she/her|twenties

krypto’s quiet snores were no bother, the constant pitter-patter of rain was soothing, meaning nothing can break this unadulterated love cocoon.

sprawled on your clark’s chest, his thick legs encompassing your body with their warm and wiry-haired presence.

all around you was clark, you were engulfed in his very essence.

his smell was all in your senses, it smelt like the laundry detergent ma uses, a clean linen scent with hints of you. it was your lavender and vanilla body wash he claimed to never touch.

but you paid that no mind, there are more important tasks at hand, and you are a woman on a mission.

“can you see my heart?” you murmur into his chest, intersecting the careful tranquility of the room.

“i can, yes. why d’ya ask, sweet girl?” punctuated with a kiss to your temple.

“so… you were able to see how much I liked you prior to dating? i wasn’t exactly the most secretive about my affection.” thrown in casually but intrigued by his answer, you raise your head and catch his eyes. they were already set on you. oh how you could get lost in those baby blues. the butterflies truly never do settle, even after years of being lovers and even more the closest of friends.

“you could say so, i just thought that’s how you were around me. tried to not pay it too much mind. funnily enough, I got attuned to your heart fairly early back home. could recognize it by sound alone - still can. just by the way your thumps come and go,” he reaches under your (his) metropolis u sweatshirt and caresses your back. up and down, up and down. “especially when in proximity with me…”

you don’t mind his cheekiness as your current occupation makes your mind go blank and ears heat. you could just go to sleep like this. or attack him with kisses. how his hands rub and scratch down your back. his hands oh so warm and big and calloused and gentle.

silently but surely his other hand - a sunken weight on the back of your neck - is carefully held and reaches your lips, receiving a plethora of the softest of kisses.

featherlight touches that spark both your hearts alight.

“i couldn’t ever control my heart in your presence. no matter how irritating your dimples were.”

“but you love my dimples!”

“am i truly that obvious?” you snarkily question, it was plain and simple to you both: the dimples were dangerous.

the very fact supported by your heart catching up speed when those very treacherous features gingerly crease his face, attuned with his utter glee.

you never could control herself around those. the perfect punctuation to his pristine smile, a boyish look that you’ll never tire to witness.

abandoning his hand, you sit up with both knees stretched over his wide hips, shifting till your chests are pressed firmly together and become one. both his hands now find purchase on your lower back.

your hands cradling his face, caressing his under eyes and melting as he leans into your hands and closes those beauties to the world. they never truly deserved them, or him for that matter.

“your heart’s going pretty quick, what feature the cause this time around?” he whispers against your palm, smile barely visible, but knowing exactly what he’s doing to you.

“not another word from you! but, if you must know… i simply love how you’re mine.” a quiet albeit honest confession. one that makes him crack his eyes open and hug you like no other - a melding of souls and heart beats syncing.

you shall selfishly horde him if it meant feeling him like this - unabashed and soft, picturesque of the shy boy you grew to love and cherish. you his and he yours.

when you needed to vacuum under the couch and he wasn’t there to hold it single-handedly.

when you were showering and he wasn’t already rubbing your lavender and vanilla body wash into your shoulders, whispering sweet nothings into your hair.

and when you were able to rest after a long day only to be met with a too quiet apartment and too cold bed.

—

you were a living gallery of clark’s love and care. he left his mark throughout the years of friendship and something more. yet there was no conceivable way you can rid yourself of it - the remnants of his devotion. the sentiment took a while to come to piece together and even longer to accept.

be it the platonic feelings back in your midwestern small town. filled with cicada noised sleepovers and quiet understanding of what finding your other half entailed, all while by his side.

but those platonic notions festered into something reformed, a phoenix from the ashes - melded solely by you two.

—

you wish you could hate him. his dimples. his starkly blue irises. his warmth. his polite nature no matter your personal relationship.

but the relation itself didnt end in any dramatic declaration, no screaming match, or cinema-worthy tears. there were quiet words exchanged and an even quieter resignation from clark.

his reasoning the final nail in the coffin. for the sake of your safety. for the sake of your livelihood, he doesn’t want anything to do with you.

he probably saw it as being selfless, but now you know it as cowardice.

—

how lucky you considered yourself to have the same passions as him, to be a righteous journalist, spreading nothing but the honest truth alongside the man of your dreams.

what you wouldn’t give to tell that hopeful girl how everything played out. how her “farm boy” became another nameless co-worker. a face in the masses.

how naive that girl seems now. how faraway smallville feels and with it clark.

—

ironically enough you don’t regret your friendship nor your relationship, you just wish he left you with more you and less him.