I’m a day late again, I’m sorry… everything is crazy at the moment. 🫣
Chapter 5In the garden of memory, in the palace of dreams, that is where you and I will meet.
(Source unknown)
The chandeliers cast a golden glow over the guests, their laughter a symphony of ignorance to the danger lurking just beyond the present. I navigate through the crowd, while my attention is locked on the entrance, awaiting your arrival with bated breath.
The air crackles with anticipation as I stand at the designated spot, my heart fluttering like a trapped bird. If I could, I’d bounce up and down like a child on Christmas morning. The need to see you and talk to you has become so strong it feels almost like a physical ache.
In my mind, I imagine what it would be like - grabbing you, pulling you somewhere private, feeling you, kissing you and telling you everything from Lex's plans for Superman to my feelings. There are so many things I need to share and waiting any longer feels unbearable.
However, this is Perry’s party and I need to act carefully. It would not do to be rude to him. The recent demise of the Planet has left him vulnerable. Yet, as the room fills with familiar faces, my eyes search for you, Clark Kent, the man who always protects me and captures my heart.
As you step into the room, the universe shrinks down to you and me. The months of longing, the ache of losing you, all compressed into one moment - I feel like a parched desert suddenly drenched by a life-giving rainstorm. I take in every one of your features, memorize them all anew.
Fate has granted me a second chance. You, my dear friend, are both a memory and miracle, standing before me.
And in that heartbeat, I believe in miracles.
I want to rush to you, to collapse into the sanctuary of your arms, but I'm rooted to the spot, unable to seize control. Frustration claws at my insides, I'm screaming internally, willing my body to obey, to move, to act. But it's like shouting into a void - no echo, no response.
The party swirls around us, faces and voices blending into insignificance. It's you and me, Clark, in a bubble of potential and peril.
I’m a paradox of motionless urgency.
If only I already knew when to seize control. Life and death hang in the balance, a secret known only to me.
As I watch you approach, it feels like an eternity of waiting has culminated in this moment.
Our conversation this morning showed me reality isn’t that simple. Those wounds are still raw. I know I need to weigh my words carefully.
The months without you changed me so much. My rejected love no longer stings; instead, anger at my own foolishness consumes me. As you draw nearer, the tension becomes almost unbearable. I can almost taste the moment of revelation on my tongue, the sweet, sharp tang of truth. But the words are trapped, prisoners behind the bars of my own making.
Following an uncharacteristically cold greeting we soon settle in a booth with Perry and Jimmy. I ignore the smalltalk, let my past self handle the situation. Instead my focus is on you.
We’re side by side now and the warmth of you is a torture all its own. I’m haunted by the memory of your touch, the strength and gentleness that define you. My heart yearns for these simple gestures - the warmth of your hand on my back, one of those smiles meant only for me.
I hope I haven’t erased it permanently.
My body remains unresponsive, like a marionette with cut strings. But I won’t surrender to this silent fate. Because, Clark, you’re more than my heart’s choice - you’re the world’s hope.
And in this silent struggle, I wish Wells were here, an ally to unravel this paralysis. But for now, I remain trapped.
I barely register Perry leaving with the belly dancer as I’m solely focused on you, planning what I can say to convince you.
Jimmy, ever the small-talk enthusiast, probes about my new job at LNN. As I hear myself deflecting, praising a TV station I secretly despise, my attention is on you. Clark, you’re still mired in our past exchanges - the park, your… no my apartment - the wounds are still raw.
I ask if we can talk alone. Perhaps this is my chance - to bridge the gap, to reveal what's been locked inside me.
The party’s laughter and chatter fade into a distant hum as I stand there. My gaze is locked on you.
"You’re ruining Perry’s retirement party!" My other self begins, using the same words I did.
This might be my chance, I have to fight!
"Me? I’m not the one gloating over my new job!" Your anger flares. But this time, I can’t let it spiral into familiar territory.
As I lean in I catch a whiff of your aftershave, the same one you wore when we were in the Lexor, its scent building a bridge between then and now. Your cologne reminds me of a forest after rain, clean and pine-scented, with earthy undertones. That scent always gotten to me, even before admitting to myself that you were more than a hack.
I let it envelop me, drawing strength to fight this invisible wall. The memories of your skin, the thrill of Superman’s spandex against my fingertips, the power beneath - remind me of what’s at stake.
“Clark, I need to tell…” My words hang, for a moment I‘m speechless as I didn’t anticipate this to work. “… you need to be careful! Lex is going to…”
“All you can talk about is your new life with Lex Luthor.” Disgust colors your expression, I don’t think you heard anything I said, except for the name Luthor. “You're afraid to face the truth - that Lex may be hiding what really happened at the Planet.”
My heart races. Lex, the shadow lurking over us. But this isn’t about him. It’s about us - about the feelings I’ve buried, the ache that refuses to fade. I want to scream, to shake you until you see beyond the surface. But here, in this fragile moment, I can only hope that my plea reaches you.
“I know,” I say ruefully, while you turn your back to me in frustration. When you can’t contain it anymore you start to pace. I want to stop you, turn you to face me again but my control is rapidly dwindling.
“CLARK!” I interrupt you, my voice cracking with desperation. The opportunity slips through my fingers like quicksand, leaving me grasping at nothing. The old me resurfaces, a shadow I can’t escape and with it, a wave of regret and self-loathing.
“You're talking about a man I trust and admire, someone who's always been truthful with me.” The realization of my blindness hits me like a sledgehammer, yet I’m imprisoned by the situation and my own past. “If you cared about me, you’d let me -
help me - find happiness. I’ve landed a good job and someone wants to spend their life with me. What's wrong with that?” My heart pounds in my chest, each beat a painful reminder of the distance growing between us.
“Okay!” Your reply is sharp, anger simmering beneath the surface. “If that’s what you want, then... fine. Get in bed with the devil.” The bitterness in your voice cuts through me, leaving a sting that lingers.
My other self seethes with frustration, a storm brewing inside. “Fine…” The word is a whisper, barely audible, but it carries the weight of my inner turmoil.
“Let's return to the party,” you snap, your words cutting through the air like a knife. The tension between us is palpable, a heavy cloud that hangs over every interaction.
“And have a
really good time,” my other self adds, dripping with sarcasm. Inwardly, I sigh in defeat.
Throughout the evening, my attention remains glued to you. Tears threaten to spill, but are they mine or hers? The confusion only adds to my anguish.
I ache for your touch, your presence. Life teases me, granting you back, but keeping you just out of reach. The longing is a constant ache, a reminder of what I can’t have.
As the evening wears on, I become acutely aware of time slipping away. Each second, each heartbeat brings us closer to the moment I dread. The anticipation is a slow torture, each tick of the clock drives
I watch as you laugh with Jimmy, your easy camaraderie a stark contrast to the turmoil churning between us. The sight of your smile, so effortless and genuine, twists the knife deeper.
All too soon, the party ends. Dread settles in my stomach like a lead weight as my mind drifts to the last event of this day. The thought of facing Lex fills me with a sense of impending doom, a cold shiver running down my spine.
By the time the party ends, I’ll need your and Jimmy’s help to get Perry into the waiting limousine. Once again, it’s both torture and heaven being near you - without any control over my actions or words.
Jimmy follows, but you remain adamant in your refusal to ride with us.
As the car door thuds shut, sealing me within Lex’s gilded cage, a wave of irony crashes over me. How could I have been so naïve? How did I not notice the strings attached to every polished surface, every smooth ride? Your warnings, once dismissed as jealousy or paranoia, now echo with a clarity that chills me to the bone.
The coolness of the leather seat is a stark contrast to the heat of my turmoil. The soft hum of the engine is a lullaby of false security, masking the storm within. My mind races, replaying the evening, the missed opportunities, the words left unsaid. The distance between us, once merely physical, now feels like an abyss I fear I cannot cross.
As the limousine glides away, I catch a glimpse of your retreating figure, a lone sentinel against the city’s glow.
I’m left with the echoes of what could have been, the haunting melody of a future slipping further away with each passing second.
As the limousine reaches Lex Tower, my heart flutters wildly, a caged bird desperate for escape. This is the day I promise Lex I’ll marry him. Stepping out of the car, it feels like I’m walking toward my own execution, or perhaps something even worse: yours.
The towering structure looms above me, its cold, glassy exterior reflecting the ominous feeling turmoil within. Each step I take feels heavy, laden with the weight of my choices and the shadows of my doubts. Despite my attempts to fulfill my heart’s wish, I’ve already stumbled more than once on this mission. The path has been fraught with missteps and regrets, yet, I cling to hope, a fragile lifeline in this sea of uncertainty.
Determined, I steel myself against the rising tide of fear. I must find a way to avoid saying ‘yes’ to Lex. The thought of binding myself to him, of sealing my fate with a word, sends a shiver down my spine.
T. B. C.
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