#fragrantica

“express yourself don’t repress yourself.”

Back when you and Clark Kent were kids, you spent time up in your room. Back then it was all innocent—-sprawled out on the scratchy carpet, playing board games and video games. You had the new ones hooked up to your upstairs TV that you and your siblings always shared. Clark would play, sitting under the blanket next to you. This happened well into your teen years, considering you were best friends. You knew all of each other’s secrets and habits, like the back of your hand. You knew he could fly, and he knew about your most embarrassing moments ever. Your parents wanted him out by 10 always, said that boys were no good after 10. You threw your hands up as he won the stupid game on Nintendo again. The air between you was light, the Moonlight casting through the windows, revealing the built up dust. You both looked at the clock before looking back at each other. 10:05. “One more round?” you ask at the same time, laughing together as you pressed play. The sound of the buttons clicking into place burning into your minds.

Years later, in the big city of Metropolis where you had moved together to start your blossoming careers—-and his debut as superman. Now you were past best friends, roommates had turned into someone to ward the nightmares away, private dinners in the confines of your apartment until eventually getting together, just like everyone had always guessed.