synopsis: kal-el helps you get home whenyoure drunk which leads into an argument
cw: this is a part three however i believe it can be read standalone, swearing, reader is drunk, Kal doesn’t know how to express his feelings, miscommunication i think, no happy ending, no comfort, possible grammar errors, heart to shart his ass is not listening, maybe a bit ooc, 1.4k words
a/n: tried to make the fade look like his chest piece kinda,,, im NOT proud of this i fear thats the case with all of my fics though, i like writing this trope though ill make him suffer more.
The message lit his phone screen.
He knew exactly what you meant. He always knew. Even after you swiftly deleted it.
Even right now, when you were at your friend's house. He knew you meant in about 40 minutes, when you would get home.
He also knew he shouldn’t go. Sure, he wasn’t the most stand-up guy, hell, he doesn’t even wish to be a stand-up guy. He’s not a good person and he doesn’t want to be.
But an ounce of him, a small, still humane part of him screamed at him. It told him not to go. He knew he shouldn’t and god, did he resist it.
Yet somehow he found himself back in the sky, following you. Watching over you.
You kept looking at your phone, reading his messages, not paying attention.
For Christ’s sake, you were so absorbed in the texts you almost wandered into the road.
He groaned, his fingers angrily tapping away before he made a smooth descent close to you.
For the first time though, his words failed him. Your seemingly tear-stained eyes, the iron grip on your phone, the look you gave him. Something between fear and relief. It made him stop and feel something new. A feeling deep in his gut that felt like he was getting hollowed out from the inside.
“Kal…” You began, trying to find the following words to no avail.
“Just— let me take you home.” He spat out. He hated this new feeling. And now that he spoke, it grew larger. The closer he got to you the deeper he felt it.
Your arms slowly fell to your sides. You put your phone back in your pocket before walking towards him. Excruciatingly slowly. The uncertainty is palpable between the two of you. You tried to speak again, your mouth hanging open for a second before closing again.
“Don’t. You don’t need to.” He said. He didn’t want to listen to your voice. Not right now. Not when he knew he wasn’t in his right mind and could do something very, very stupid.
“C’mon,” He whispered, unnaturally soft. You nodded getting close enough to him so he could wrap his hands around you. One on your back, one under your knees. With a swift thump, air was flung into your face as you gained altitude.
The soft night breeze sobered you up just a little to make you realize what you actually got yourself into.
The door swung open as soon as your chauffeur turned the key, realizing he had put too much force into a push.
Your apartment was a mess, you were still unpacking from the sudden move after all.
The couch had pillows and a blanket thrown over it, a temporary bed. Kal-el sighed, setting you down as gently as his consciousness allowed him to.
He was angry. He was a lot of feelings actually. Angry, sad, disappointed, annoyed. And he hated to admit it, but even a little nervous.
His hand guided the door behind him to shut. Watching you slowly shed your shoes and bag.
His hands itched to help you with your coat, begging to feel your shoulders and arms again.
He clenched his fists, trying to satisfy said feeling. It helped for now.
You helped yourself with the coat, pulling it off slowly— because you were feeling intoxicated— but to Kal it seemed like you were torturing him on purpose, and he couldn’t even blame you.
You turned to him, your still puffy and red eyes glaring into his. He swore that if it weren’t for the glasses he was wearing, you could see straight into his mind.
Your eyes studied him slowly. His stance, his face. He began to feel like prey. Another new feeling he’s felt today.
“Why did you come?” Your voice is still cracking a bit, in virtue of the crying you did on your way back.
And now it was his turn to be speechless. His mouth opening the slightest before closing, pressing his lips into a thin line. He crossed his arms on his chest and leaned on the door behind him.
You stood there. Waiting for an answer. Your hands loosely by your sides. You weren't provoking anything. You just wanted answers, which the big guy in your apartment couldn’t provide.
You moved closer, hoping that it would make him speak.
Nothing. His stance unmoving. His eyes following yours.
You took another step towards him. Now only about 20 inches away. He only took a deep breath, his exhale shaky.
“Why?” the faintest whisper echoed between you two. Tinged with the sadness and desperation for an answer that wallowed inside your heart.
When your words reach him, you see his mouth twitch slightly before he turns his head away from you.
He’s avoiding you. Again. Never letting you get close, never letting you see what he actually feels or what he thinks of you. The buzzing in your head becomes louder as you step closer to him.
“Why? Why did you come over? Why are you like this? Why can’t you leave me alone?” You shoot a barrage of questions to which he huffs.
“I don't fucking get it. You want me to stop talking to you, I do, you get mad. You contact me first after I already couldn't give a fuck. I come over because YOU asked. You get mad. What the fuck am I supposed to do?” He answered, visibly annoyed, his jaw clenched and his arms tensing up.
“I—“ before you could have the chance to respond he cuts you off.
“No. Listen. I know you hate me all that jazz what-fucking-ever. What I don’t know is why you’re still here. Why do you want me here?”
“I don’t know.” You say simply and he nods.
“But you came…”You notice and he lets out a shallow laugh at that, placing his hands on his hips. He took a soft breath before responding.
“I couldn’t leave you alone.” His thumb dips into his hip, a desperate attempt at grounding himself. He paused for a second, considering whether he should tell you the truth or remain silent.
“There’s something always gnawing at me. Each time I turn away from you it’s like I can feel you right behind me. You’re always there, deep-rooted in my fucking brain. And I tried— I really fucking tried getting rid of you but for crying out loud…” He bit his cheek, looking away yet again. He was speaking faster than he could think. Maybe it was easier expressing everything, knowing you wouldn’t remember much of this conversation.
“I don’t know why I can’t.” He said, or whispered rather.
“You're lying” you said, shaking your head. A few stray tears falling down your chin again.
“You're a fucking liar. You're just saying this shit so I forgive you or so you could fuck. I know you. " You almost had me goddamnit.” You chuckle dryly and wipe away the drops of sadness.
“I’m not fucking lying. I really wish I were.”
“I’m not.” He whispered back at you.
“You make me go insane. And I can’t help but—“
‘love it’ He cursed himself for ever thinking of that word.
You sniffled again, wrapping your hands around yourself.
“Yeah well, you make me go insane too. And I, for one, don't enjoy it.” He nods. He tried focusing his eyes on anything other than your eyes. Your sweet, sweet eyes that took hold of him every single time.
“I don’t know what you want me to say” Kal shrugged lightly.
“What do you want from me Kal?”
The question lingered in the air.
Kent felt like he was drowning. He couldn’t speak. The one time he wished he had a quick comeback, something good, something to snap back at you, he came up empty-handed. Each attempt to speak made his chest seize.
‘I want you’ the words pressed themselves against his lips, begging to escape, begging to be heard.
“I have no clue.” He swallowed his words.
“That’s fucking rich.” You laughed angrily, pacing around trying to contain your bitterness.
“Just go, Kent.” You muttered, pointing at the door with your remaining strength. He didn't need you to repeat yourself, immediately turning to leave. Right before darting away, stealing a single glance at you which you didn't care to reciprocate.
A sudden wave of nausea hit you, whether it was from the alcohol or the mix of every emotion, you didn't really know or care. It was finally over.
