hey y'all. it's ya kids baby_danvers and infinity_in_his_eyes formally apologizing for being sucky at updating. hope you guys enjoy this chapter though ;)
//Kara POV//
As if I need anymore reason to believe that there is no one up there watching over me, she turns around. The vacuum is whirring, but she is frozen in place, eyes fixated on me.
I'm not surprised when I feel the tear fall down my cheek.
Lena Luthor has the vexing tendency to make me feel some way, one way or another.
I try to get the first word in, in order to appear stronger, perhaps more assertive. But as the distance between us closes, and as I am all too aware of my wet eyes, the only thing I manage to stammer out is; "I-I-" Way to assert yourself, Kara. You truly have a way with words! Lena cuts me off before I'm able to humiliate myself further.
"What do you want?" I almost feel bad. She sounds tired... defeated. Her voice holds none of the confidence and cunning that it did the very first time I ever spoke to her.
"I wasn't exactly planning on this." I smile sadly, aware that yet another tear was rolling down my cheek, at the memory of the first time I had said this exact same line to her. I sloppily wipe the tear with my entire hand, the same hand that quickly shoots up to adjust my glasses, even though they didn't need adjusting. The only times I've ever gotten back into this habit for the first time in years are exactly all the times I have had these confrontations with Lena. Coincidence, right?
"Really? That same card, huh?" I almost want to smile at the fact that she remembers that conversation. It almost makes me feel like she cared enough to remember, and I would feel excited, if it weren't for the fact that she says it so exasperatingly. Like I am just a mere child, wanting to play their games with the grown ups.
And it's there, where all the passion hits me at once. Where all my less-than-happy feelings rush to my head. Where all I can think about is how I hate it when Lena makes me feel this way, when she leads me on the way she does; gives me glimpses of the side of her that she doesn't let a single person in the world see anymore. When she gives me hope , the kind of hope you get when you open the damn Pandora's jar, and then just slams the lid shut, all while looking me in the eyes, because she knows exactly what she's doing. She makes me feel so insignificant, so unworthy of her feelings, so undeserving of her.
I have to keep myself from screaming; "I think we both know things aren't the same this time." My teeth ache from speaking through them while gritted.
"And who decided that?" Lena counters. I know she's toying with me, she has to be, otherwise, she's just outright oblivious.
I nearly leave my response at my eye roll. "You, Lena. You made this decision-" She cut me off. Again. I'm not one to get violent, but if I have to stop myself one more time for her...
"Oh really. How's that?" She spoke so incredulously, like she truly had no idea about the role she played in this (not really) relationship.
" The moment," I realize that I am too many decibels too loud, and lower my voice, resorting to giving her an incriminating glare instead, "you locked eyes with me the first time-"
"No. No, you 'locked eyes' with me !" While there may have been truth in her statement, I clench my fists, in order to stop myself from screaming, punching the wall, punching her, or all three. I can't believe...
I am the one who's voice is laden with exasperation now. " Do not . Do not act like you weren't a part of this. Do not try to dismiss yourself from the situation, and stop trying to dismiss me!" I jab an accusing finger at her chest, and she looks down in disbelief, her action as loud as if she had straight up said 'how dare you touch me, a Luthor!' But she doesn't say anything. Lena lifts her head, chin jutting out, and crosses her arms pointedly. She's clearly trying to say that she has nothing to say.
"What, don't you have anything to say this time? Don't you have some hurtful retort to hit me over the head with again? Don't you have something to say?"
Her strong jaw trembles the slightest bit, but it is enough that my eyes pick up on it (my eyes pick up on anything that girl does.) It gives away so much. It tells me that I've hurt her, that I've made her feel something that wasn't happy. I did that (and the very fact ashamedly yields me satisfaction. I am capable of changing Lena Luthor. ) I'm not sure if she notices the tear that is falling down her face, and it takes all my willpower to abstain from gathering her in my arms, to tell her I'm sorry that I just did this to her.
"Why can't you just leave me alone? Haven't you already messed with my life enough?" She doesn't mean it. She's hurting, she's not watching what she says. Or maybe Lena is fully aware of what she's saying. Maybe she's trying to hurt me, to drive me away, back me into a corner, to barrage me with accusing glares and loaded words that chip away at my confidence in this matter, until I have nothing left to say. Whatever the case may be, I'm simply angered. Once again, some stowed away narcissism emerges from with me, bubbling in my head. Once again, I find myself thinking that I'm selfish for feeling this way, for wanting her to need me, for her to just give in already. I find myself wishing she would stop fighting it, to let me just hold her in my arms and tell her it's going to be okay, because I'm here for her. But it's like she doesn't know that, it's like she's refusing to know that.
And it makes me inexplicably angry.
"Why can't you just let me be a part of your life? Why do you do this to yourself, for Christ's sake Lena. You can't blame this one anyone, not the guides, not the other kids, not even Lex. Whatever is happening here is because of you. It's your fault. " I don't filter my words, I just let out an angry huff of air and settle into the silence, my eyes searching her face too quickly, too eagerly, for a reaction.
It's common knowledge in the world of foster homes. You don't blame the victim.
But I did. I put the blame on Lena.
She knows this all too well.
When she opens her mouth, she doesn't say anything at first. She closes it again, and I can see her jaw clench, hard. She's mad, and she's trying not to act out on it, whether with words or actions (which is admirable, it's more than I can say for myself.) She finally speaks, her voice low and quavering.
"Don't you dare talk about Lex like that. You don't know him! I do!" I am overridden with guilt. Of course Lena would want to remember Lex as she knew him, before everything went to shit and she was thrown into this life. Who wouldn't never let go of the good things?
"He's gone Lena. He's not coming back, so why, why , are you letting him do this to you?" My wonder is genuine. I couldn't fathom why Lena would want to live like this, constantly under the shadow of her brother's doings. I've met enough people in my life to know that one can be their own person, no matter who they're related to. I know, I know it for a fact, that Lena didn't have to live like this. I take a step forward, keeping my eyes steadily trained on hers, looking for who knows what at this point. Hurt? Betrayal? Brokenness?
" Stop it! Lex has nothing to do with this!" She manages to both scream and whimper out the words. To sound both furious and let down at the same time. I'm playing a dirty game, but it's the only way.
Never blame the victim...
"You're right, it's you. It's always been you." ( Whoops.) The first step I had taken towards her had progressed to many steps, and she has no choice but to move back with me. I have her in the corner, just like the last time. History has a way of repeating itself. The two inches that I have on her are to my advantage, I am towering over her, and Lena is looking up at me. I feel like a playground bully, with my face close to hers, the words that slip off my tongue are hurtful and accusing, all while I'm watching her slowly crumble, the tears spilling faster and faster from her eyes, her breath becoming shakier.
It's the way the tears hang to her eyelashes, parallel to how morning dew clings to bright green grass, the color of her eyes, it's the way all of this comes together that brings me to the conclusion that I don't like playing dirty. Lena Luthor doesn't deserve this.
She's been fairly quiet through the whole ordeal, in terms of keeping herself together. If it were me in this situation, I know that I would have been in tears as soon as an accusing glare was sent my way. Lena is strong, but this I already knew. What I wasn't aware of, however, is just how much she had been holding back. Little things about a person, they're the things that tell you everything you need to know. Lena's resilience, her determination to remain as mechanic and icy as possible in the God forbidden place, was all I needed to know that she could only keep up the act for so long. A person can only be strong for so long.
" It's this damn name. Everyone sees me as him . I'm not ..."
The tiny sob breaks my heart into many pieces. I don't think I've ever heard something being released that was so pent up for so long (and this is coming from someone whose sister came out to her.) In this corner, every detail is in high definition. In this corner, I am pressed close to her, too close for both of our comfort (but at least one of us doesn't mind that.) I can feel her chest heaving, like that one sob left her beyond breathless, her entire body quivers, and my entire body aches with guilt. I am her distress, I am her hurt.
I'll be the reason why she'll feel whole again ( I promise to you, Lena.)
I want to apologize and be on my way, but apologies are admittance to doing something wrong, and I don't want Lena to think that that's what this is. That me taking to her was nothing but a mistake, and that I'm sorry. I'm not sorry.
I'm sad, sad that she's not seeing herself the way I see her. As someone who is just that, someone . My someone. The one that I can talk to, the one that I can unload my worries on, the one that I can tell my past and my secrets. The one who I can get to know.
I'm definitely overthinking this. I'm daydreaming about a girl that I can probably never have, a girl that I just emotionally terrorized in the dusty corner of a shambled foster home in Detroit.
I think that I've already been proven that good things don't happen to me.
So why am I still standing here? Why am I putting so much effort into this?
Because I don't want her to feel like me.
I take my left hand, and raise to the side of Lena's head. My thumb gently swipes a runaway tear. I try to see past her eyes, but they're too blurry.
"Lena, can't you see? I've never thought of you like him. Why don't you trust me?"
I'm only now aware that I've been shedding tears of my own.
"But that's the whole problem. You're different . I don't know how to deal with that." My mind instantly becomes mush. My thoughts are the buzz of white static. My heart jumps in my throat, and for a minute, I can't say anything. For a minute, I don't want to say anything.
I want to leave it at this confession, I want to turn away and make her learn on her own how to deal with it,
but at the same time...
I take Lena's face into both of my hands. My thumbs instinctively start to rub gentle circles into her cheeks, something that my mother used to do to me when I was younger whenever I found myself feeling down. My eyes are blurry too this time, but I never lose focus of her, and we are both simply peering; the earth meets the sky.
"Let me teach you."
I watch as her eyes close. My face is so, so close to hers, her breath is hot. While she's busy watching her eyelids, I bring my head down, and press my forehead into hers. I feel her breaths becoming shorter, heavier. In this corner, Lena's heart rate picks up, beating faster, faster. My fingers feel tingly, my thumbs are electric on her skin. I close my own eyes, and my lips automatically part, the tiniest bit. I don't think I mean to take it this far, my intentions were never to be this close, so close now that our noses are pressing together, and the static in my head is louder, and Lena's skin is sending numbing electric pulses to my brain, which is clearly the reason I feel the absolute slightest bit of Lena's lips on my own, and that's when I am shoved away, my face now miles away in comparison to how close it was just moments ago.
"No. Get away from me. I don't need you! " She turns on her heels and heads directly upstairs, because she must've meant what she said.
She doesn't need me. Not in that way.
I feel rejected, although there was nothing between us before to give me an excuse to feel this way. How do I even describe what happened? What compulsed me to get so close, to have so much confidence in myself? What assured me that the feeling was mutual?
Absolutely nothing.
"Lena!" I try to reach for her shoulder, but she's already at the stairs.
"Leave me alone!" I'm not even halfway up the stairs yet, and I can hear her voice drift from down the hall. I go up the rest of the stairs three at a time, in an attempt to catch up with her.
It's too late. I hear the distinctive slam of her door, one that I am unfortunately familiar with.
'I don't need you.'
Of course she doesn't need me. She's Lena Luthor. She's survived a heartless mother, an indifferent father, a murderous brother, and who knows how many years in this place (and how am I supposed to change anything?) And of course I'm a fool. Utterly foolish and stupid to think that she would open up to me. Someone who's had life handed to them their whole life, someone who falls for someone much too easily, someone as naive as me.
Someone who's a girl like me, and Lena probably doesn't even give me a second thought when she goes about her day, hell, she probably doesn't even swing that way. I wish I could turn back time, and stop myself from getting so close. Stop myself before the adrenaline got the better of me, and before I was too deep in her cucumber scent, before I was too lost in her eyes, and especially before I ghosted my lips across hers, because fireworks are exploding behind my eyelids now, and not in a good way. It hurts like hell, and the colors are overwhelming, but I want more, and I can't have more, because she's Lena Luthor.
I touch my fingers to my lips. The heat is gone, my fingers are cold, my my face is red hot from shame and humiliation. Once again, I find myself on the other side of her door (the wrong side) wishing that something, everything , was different.
I'm just me.
My fingertips become sticky, and I find that I have accidentally reopened the small wounds at the bottom of my palms, ones that have become a permanent fixture since meeting Lena. I decide that in this moment, the pain is welcome. It takes my mind of her, if only for a moment. I don't want her in my thoughts, taking root and growing like an invasive species, I don't want her breath tickling my face, I don't want her to be the one to make the blood rush to my head, I don't want her to be my fireworks.
Not when I'm nothing to her.
Not when I'm just me.
//Lena POV//
I can't believe I let myself cry in front of Kara.
This entire time she's been here, my walls have been tested as rigorously as they ever have. She keeps breaking them down. I can essentially feel the heavy stone blocks falling from on high, shattering on the ground. I thought I could still work with the walls I had left. That is, until she brought up Lex.
I still love him, despite all the things he did. It disgusts me that I do; he's insane and he's a murderer. But he was a loving brother before that. And even before that he was a lonely boy who wanted a type of love his mother could never give him. Despite everything, he cared for me and loved me. He treated me as an equal. He made me feel human. Maybe that's why I love him. Maybe that's why I always get so angry when people ridicule him. Maybe that's why I don't want Kara coming into my life. She'd be taking away the significance of the only thing that keeps me loyal to Lex.
I don't realize I've backed up until I'm trapped in the corner of the common room (the vacuum's still running, whining in the background, but I can barely hear it over the rush of blood in my ears), Kara towering over me. She's furious, so when she says the words, I shrink away instead of leaning closer as I always (Really? Always?) thought I would when those words were uttered.
"It's always been you."
I didn't even realize I wanted to hear those words. But now that she's spoken them, I want to hear that phrase again. But when Kara's not seething, not when she's weaponizing my memories of Lex. Not when it sounds like she hates me. The amount of venom in her voice rivals any amount I've had in mine when I've talked to her (which is an impressive feat in and of itself). I don't want her to be this angry. This side of Kara Danvers scares me. What ever happened to the little girl who drew random girls and just wanted to talk to me? How is it that I'm finding myself wishing for the one thing I was praying would cease to exist less than a week ago? That's when I'm suddenly aware that I'm crying. My walls (who even knew there were any left?) crumble down the rest of the way. I feel my breath turning shaky. Okay, Lena, stop. You're a Luthor. Luthors are strong. Luthors don't cry. Luthor.... Silent tears roll down my cheeks, but do everything I can to make sure my voice doesn't betray me.
"It's this damn name. Everyone sees me as him ." I don't think Kara needs a clarifier as to who he is; she's made it abundantly clear that she has no tolerance when it comes to Lex Luthor . I can't let her continue thinking about him (and consequently me, since of course we're the same person, despite not even being truly related) like this. "I'm not ..." I am cut off by my own sob. So much for not letting my voice betray me. My walls have crumbled, their dust has blown away. I refuse to look Kara in the eye, but I won't look down at the ground either. Instead, I stare past her, my face set; the only things that show my emotion are the tears rolling down my face and my convulsive gasps for breath.
All of a sudden, Kara's voice softens. Her expression shifts from an accusatory glare to a tender, affectionate gaze. I see her glance at my tear-stained face. Then, with a natural confidence and concern, she reaches up and cups my cheek with her hand. She ghosts her thumb over my cheekbone, wiping away a tear. The contact sends shivers through my body; my head snaps up to meet her eyes. Her countenance has done a complete 180. Her eyes are glowing warmly behind her glasses, her eyebrows are drawn together. I see the crinkle in the middle of her forehead, the same crinkle my eyes are drawn to (more than I'd like to admit). I've noticed it there when she's concentrating, when she's worried, when she's lying, when she had her seizure-like dream that night.... Have I really paid attention to her this much? I'm scared of that answer, so i push the question as far to the back of my mind as it can go. I try to ignore my heart fluttering like a caged bird. I don't want her pity....
But do I want her comfort?
A tear rolls down Kara's face. Her voice is soft, imploring, when she speaks: "Lena, can't you see? I've never thought of you like him. Why don't you trust me?"
I want to trust her. I want to lean into her touch. This is the first time I've felt this since Lex. But even then, there's something more. She's different from everyone else .
"But that's the whole problem," I say. Tears still trace paths down my face. "You're different . I don't know how to deal with that."
Kara tilts her head the tiniest bit, as if she's trying to understand what I said. Or maybe she's just struck by how strangely I'm acting. I am showing much more emotion than I normally do... but is it so abnormal with Kara? Hasn't she already seen all these emotions I didn't know I was capable of feeling, the ones I pressed so deep down I forgot–?
I'm suddenly pulled out of my thoughts by both of Kara's hands cupping both sides of my face. Her grip is gentle, caring, but at the same time firm; I have no choice but to look her straight in the eyes (not that that's a problem...). As she leans in closer (also not a problem), she starts rubbing light circles over my tear-stained cheeks. Her touch is light as a feather, and all I can think of is an angel's wings brushing over my face, guarding over me. Maybe Kara is my angel.... My heart almost stops. It feels like my chest is about to implode. I want to lean forward, feel her breath mix with mine....
Yes, I decide. I do want her comfort.
It's as if she hears my thoughts as she continues to caress my cheeks, she very nearly begs: "Let me teach you."
In that instant, my heart fails me. My brain short-circuits. I hear my breath catch, hear blood roaring in my ears while my heart feels, once again, like it's stopped. Kara has moved just a tiny bit closer; I wouldn't have noticed unless we were as close together as we are. Her forehead is touching mine. If my brain wasn't getting fried before, it certainly is now. I feel the hot huff of her breath on my upper lip and shit, is that her lips touching mine? Just the thought of that (even if it's wishful thinking, which I think it is) sends wonderful shivers down my spine. I close my eyes. I could never have anticipated just how much I want to lean forward and collide my lips with hers right now....
Let me teach you. I can hear the want in Kara's voice, the raw need to help me (of course I don't need help!), keep me close, comfort me. And I want it.
Hell, I need it.
But then the walls of the Luthor mansion rear up before me. All of a sudden, I'm five years old again....
I was packing my bags after my second week of first-grade classes. The material was easy, so I was focusing on the people. There weren't many that caught my eye. Except for one young girl.
In reality, she was probably older than me, but she was very shy. She had golden-blonde hair that fell in waves a little past her shoulders that always obscured half of her face. I think her name was Sara. She usually wore darker clothes, but that day she was wearing a pale blue, flowered dress. She was very beautiful.
She was still sitting at her table, struggling with subtraction, even though everybody else had left. I walked over to her and peeked over her shoulder. Suddenly, she turned around, panic in her eyes as she grabbed my wrist. Wow, she's fast! I thought. I smiled at her soothingly.
"Do you need help?" I asked, still smiling to show her I wasn't a threat. She shook her head immediately (too quickly). I smiled.
"It's okay to say you need help. I know you're smart," I reassured her. She paused, then nodded her head. I smiled even wider.
"Your name's Sara right?" I asked. She nodded.
"And you're Lena," she stated with a note in her voice I couldn't quite grasp.
"Yeah!" I confirmed enthusiastically. "Hey, do you want to come over to my house? It's only a couple minutes walk from the school. We can work on subtraction together," I offered.
Sara looked up at me and smiled, grabbing her workbook and putting it in her pink backpack. It was pink with a little yellow bird on the front pocket.
"I like your backpack," I said as we walked out of the school. "What type of bird is that?"
She smiled and grabbed my hand as we crossed the street. "It's a canary."
~~~
I practically pulled Sara up the pathway to the Luthor mansion. Her mouth was open, her eyes were wide as she stared at the giant house. I paused at the bottom of the steps that led to the giant double oak doors and turned to her. She was looking around with amazement, her grey-blue eyes sparkling, her face flushed from running. It accentuated every freckle on her face. I felt my heart flutter.
"Come on!" I said. "Let's go inside. I don't think Lillian – I mean, mom is home yet."
Sara looked confused at my little slip up.
"She's my adoptive mother," I explained. "I've been with the Luthors for about a year."
Sara nodded. She didn't press any further, for which I am grateful. I suddenly straightened up and smiled widely (I guess I had been frowning). "Let's go inside!"
I threw open the large doors and pulled Sara through, pointing her towards the couch. I ran over to the kitchen and climbed up onto the counter so I could get to the stash of cookies Lillian hid (Lex showed me where they were). I grabbed them and took them over to Sara, who was sitting on the couch politely, gawking at the huge oil painting of Lex and his – our – parents.
Sara turned towards me, forehead creased, ignoring the cookies. "Why aren't you up there?"
I stopped dead in my tracks. I tilted my head. There's always a good explanation for everything. So why couldn't I think of one? I felt tears start to gather in the corners of my eyes.
Sara gasped, quickly started muttering a mantra of "Sorry sorry sorry, I'm so sorry," and pulled me into a hug. I let the tears fall down onto her shoulder, but I didn't make any sound. Then Sara pressed a kiss to my neck.
I froze. This wasn't something I was accustomed to. But I didn't mind it at all. In fact, I actually really liked it.
Sara froze too. She pulled back, averted her eyes. She mumbled another "sorry" and reached for her backpack. I quickly grabbed at her hands, taking them in mine. Her eyes still were fixed on my shoes.
"Sara," I said. She looked up, her eyes wide, this time in fear, not amazement. "It's okay–"
I was cut off by Sara lunging forward and pressing her lips onto mine. I couldn't respond for a split second, but when I felt that she was about to pull away, I closed my eyes and kissed back.
I was actually surprised when Sara pulled back from the kiss. She looked me in the eyes this time. Then she spoke, very softly.
"I think I have a crush on you."
This time I initiated the kiss. It was just lips, but I remember floating on clouds of bliss....
Until the front doors swung open and Lillian stormed in.
" Lena! " she shrieked.
Sara and I both jerked away from each other. I willed her with my eyes to run. Thank God she took the hint. She grabbed her pink canary backpack and ran out the front door.
" Lena! " Lillian shrieked again. "How dare you? What–! I–!"
"I was just kissing her," I mumbled.
" Exactly! " Lillian snapped. "You were kissing her! " She made an indignant sound. "You're a disgrace to this family."
If only the world had heard those words.
"I don't see why–," I began, but I was cut off.
" You're a disgrace to this family! " screamed Lillian, and she brought her palm down across my face.
I ran to my room after that and locked myself in. I didn't even open the door for Lex when he came home. He tried to comfort me through the door, but I just buried my head in my pillows.
I didn't find out until the following Monday that Sara and her family had moved all the way to Starling City.
My eyes fly open. I'm trapped in the corner of this shitty Detroit foster home by Kara Danvers, and she almost kissed me. I push her backwards.
"No. Get away from me. I don't need you! " I scream at her. I turn on my heel and rush towards the stairs. As I start to climb them, I see Kara starting to move after me, arm outstretched.
"Lena!"
"Leave me alone!" I cry, streaking down the hall to my room. I slam the door shut and lock it with a reverberation that is probably heard throughout the whole house. I run to the hole I made in the wall and drive my knife in with an anger and strength that I didn't know I had.
But who am I angry at? Kara? Sara? Lillian?
Myself.
I glance at the knife in the wall, still quivering. Wouldn't it be easier if I had instead driven that blade into my brain or my heart (whichever one is making me feel this way)....
I remove the knife from the wall, placing the tip of the blade gently on my temple. I rotate it around and I feel the warm drip of blood falling down. It almost feels like a tear....
I put the knife down. I study the dark crimson staining its tip. It reminds me of a deal with the Devil: it's my blood signature. A promise for another day.
But not today, Lena, not today....