For The World
Summary: Clark had promised you that he wouldn’t miss your Graduation for the world, but when the day comes and the world needs Superman, he ends up breaking both his promise to you, as well as his own heart.
Word Count: 4.3k | I do not give consent to having my work republished or posted to any other platform or profile other than my own.
Warnings: angst, so much angst, swearing, crying, heartbreak, mentions of sex, all that good stuff.
Today was supposed to be a great day.
It was supposed to be a fucking amazing day.
And it started out as just that as Clark woke up to you in his arms, your head resting on his chest instead of your actual pillow. Everything was supposed to be perfect as he kissed you on your forehead and promised he’d see you later - at your Graduation Ceremony - then left your apartment to start his work day after telling you how proud of you he is.
After three grueling and stressful years, you were graduating Law School, and Clark had never been more proud in his life. He’d met you while you were halfway through your second year, and he’d been your biggest supporter ever since. He was your support system, and you were his.
Even though you’d been together for a year and a half now, Clark still hadn’t met your family or friends yet. With you being in class and studying and job searching every day, and him working at The Daily Planet and, you know, being Superman, there wasn’t a lot of free time either of you could spare. And when you did have the time, you preferred to spend it with each other and no one else.
That was supposed to change tonight though, at the ceremony. He was supposed to meet your parents and congratulate them on raising such a smart and talented and amazing daughter, and he was supposed to ease and erase all your friends’ doubts about the mystery man you’d been seeing for the last 18 months.
Keywords; supposed and to.
Clark got out of work early today after sitting through countless hours of his co-workers teasing him about how whipped he is for the girl none of them have even met yet. Hopefully that could change soon now that you’re done with school.
He rushed to get home and shower and change into his black suit he only wore on special occasions, and this one was at the top of the list. He tamed his curls as best as he could, then slid his glasses back on his face, and then he was out the door within that same hour of returning home.
Clark was heading to the auditorium that is holding the ceremony when he reached into his pocket to text you and let you know that he’s on his way, but his eyes caught sight of a flower shop before he could open up yours and his text thread. He put his phone away and bought you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, and when Clark had them in his hand, he was sure you were near him, because they smelled just like you.
Then he was back to his original route that would take him to the place where he would finally meet your parents, sit next to them in the front row, and watch you walk across that stage with a big, dumb smile on his face.
That was the plan. But plans don’t always work out.
As Clark was walking, he felt his body react in the way it always does when something isn’t right and when danger is near. Something was off, and he could feel it deep in his bones. His apartment was only a block away, and he turned around and headed in that direction without a second thought.
Just as he changed out of his tailored suit and into the one that could handle all things destruction, he heard the sound of screams, and the sound of glass breaking.
He was out of his apartment pretty quickly after that.
Chaos had broken out downtown, and of course, it required the assistance of Superman. He could help out, make sure everyone was okay, then he could get back on track and get back to you. He thought it wouldn’t take long.
Clark was sure he’d be done in time to see you, his perfect and stunning girl walk across that stage like you owned it, and take the diploma you worked your ass off for. He was sure he’d be up from his seat, cheering and clapping the loudest, and then he would give you your flowers, take you into his arms, spin you around and kiss every inch of your face afterwards.
But he was wrong.
Clark had missed the entire thing.
He found that out when he raced back home and changed back into his black suit, completely forgetting to grab the flowers as he practically sprinted out the door and down the street, then saw that the auditorium was locked and all the lights were off. The ceremony had long since ended, and no one was here. It was dark out, and no one was around.
He tried to convince himself that he’d gotten the wrong address. That you hadn’t graduated yet. He couldn’t come to terms with the fact that he missed your fucking graduation after promising you months ago that he’d be there.
When he got to your apartment, you didn’t answer his knocks on your door, or the endless buzzing of the intercom. But he needed to see you. It was like he couldn’t even think straight because of how guilty he felt.
He ended up climbing up the three stories to your balcony, and when he saw you through the glass sliding door, Clark felt his heart break.
You were no longer in your dress - the one that had been hanging up on your closet door for weeks -, and your graduation cap was on the cushion next to you as sat on the couch. You were wearing a cotton tank top and your sleep shorts, and you looked miserable as you stared down at the cake on the coffee table in front of you. It wished you a happy graduation, and had your graduation year in bright blue icing.
The plan had been to go out for dinner after with your parents, where he could gush over you all he wanted and you wouldn’t get to do a damn thing about it, then he was going to take you back home, where you and he would eat that very cake until your stomachs rejected anymore food.
The celebration sex would’ve come either before cake or after it, he didn’t really care.
But now he feared he wouldn’t get to celebrate with you in any way at all, when all he wanted to do since he woke up this morning was prove just how proud of you he is.
Clark felt his heart crack in his chest as he stepped towards the door. It was locked, he found out, and he placed his palm flat on the glass. “Baby,” he called out softly, hoping you would meet his eyes as he took another step forward. “Doll? Please, unlock the door. Please let me in.”
He could see the way your shoulders tensed up and the way you were building walls up around you. You were guarding yourself from him, and he fucking hated it.
“Darling, please,” he begged, his heart breaking more and more as you kept your face turned away from his.
You were tense, he could tell. And you’d also been crying. The single lamp next to the couch was enough to show him the streaks on your face, and the way your bottom lip couldn’t seem to stop quivering was all he needed to see for him to confirm that he is the worst boyfriend ever.
He watched as you shook your head. “No,” you whispered, nearly inaudible, and yet he heard you as clear as day. “I don’t want to.”
He felt like he’d been punched a thousand times in the gut. His heart clenched painfully in his chest. “I’m sorry. God, doll, I’m so sorry. I never wanted to miss it for the world,” his head fell forward and he pressed his forehead against the glass. “I should’ve been there. I never meant to ruin today. I wanted it to be perfect.”
Clark’s hand hovered over the door handle, hesitating since you still wouldn’t meet his eyes. All he could see was the side of your face. He wanted to see all of you. He needed to.
He curled his fingers around the handle but didn’t do more than that, even though he easily could have. “You deserved so much better than that,” he whispered, hating how weak he sounded. He hated how weak he felt. “Y/n, come on…please, baby, open the door. I need to see you. I need to hold you. I need to tell you how incredibly proud of you I am.”
You shook your head again as you buried your face in your knees. “You weren’t there,” you cried, every word piercing through Clark like a sword. “You have no idea how embarrassing that was for me. I told everyone that you’d be there. That they’d finally get to meet you. And then I had to go home by myself after cancelling dinner with my parents.”
Clark hated the way your voice cracked with every sentence. He hated seeing you cry. He had done everything in his power in the past to never see you cry, and up until now, he’s never made you cry.
He fucked this up so bad.
He pressed his hand harder against the glass, wanting nothing more than to cradle your perfect face and wipe those tears away. The sound of your sobs tore at his very soul, and he’s never felt this lost or panicked in his entire life.
“I’m so fucking sorry, baby,” he mumbled, “You have no idea how much I wish I could go back and change what happened. I should’ve been there, and I know no excuse is good enough.”
You lifted your head and finally looked over at him, and you and he stared at each other for a few moments. He could see the embarrassment and humiliation and hurt in your eyes, and he knew he was the cause of all of it.
You stood up from the couch and walked over to him, unlocking and opening the door. The cool air instantly flooded your apartment, and you crossed your arms over your chest.
Clark stayed outside while you looked up at him. “Where were you?” you asked, and he could hear how hoarse your voice is now that there was no barrier between the two of you. “What could have possibly been doing that took two and a half hours?”
Jesus, was it really that long? He was sure it’d only been an hour at most, but then he remembered how he was stopped for questions afterwards, and all the press that were begging for his attention and a statement from The Superman. He stayed way too long. He should’ve left as soon as the threat was eliminated, public image be damned.
He failed you.
“There was an emergency…downtown. A building was hit and it collapsed and people were in danger and I…had to help them,” he rambled, but his explanation sounded hollow even to him. He could see how you hadn’t bothered to take off your makeup as streaks of mascara were lining your cheeks, and all he wanted to do was take you into his arms and apologize until you forgave him. “I thought I could handle both, and that I could still make it, but…I was wrong. I’m so sorry.”
You pressed your lips together as you looked up at him. “I guess that’s a pretty good excuse, actually,” you mumbled, shaking your head. “But I’m still hurt, Clark.”
His shoulders dropped and his voice sounded desperate as he held off on reaching out to you. He needed to respect your boundaries, and right now he was almost positive the last thing you wanted right now was for him to touch you. “Nothing in this world means more to me than you,” he said, pleading with you through his voice and with his eyes to believe him.
Clark usually felt in control, and he could keep his emotions in check when he needed to, but right now he felt powerless. This wasn’t going well, and he could feel his control slipping. He didn’t feel in control right now at all.
Your expression softened, but just for the briefest, slightest second, then you were shaking your head and turning around, leaving him standing there while you slumped back down on the couch.
Clark stepped inside your apartment and softly closed the door behind him, and yet that was still the loudest sound that could be heard right now. It was so quiet, way too quiet, and it was making him squirm uncomfortably.
Things have always been easy with you. He felt free with you, free to be himself, but he felt anything but that right now. He felt like he was suffocating, because he knew that this was on him, he knew that you were heartbroken, and he didn’t know how he was going to fix it.
Clark walked towards you and kneeled down in front of the couch. He hated seeing you so distant, all curled in on yourself like a wounded animal. Everything inside him screamed at him to fix this, but also give you the space you so clearly need right now.
“If I could change what happened, I would in a heartbeat. I’m so incredibly proud of you, baby,” he murmured, placing his hands on your knees with a barely-there pressure.
On a normal day, his words would’ve brought a big, dumb smile to your face, but there was nothing normal about today. Today was the day you finally realized that you would always come in second place to him. You’d never be his first priority. “I don’t know where to go from here,” you whispered, avoiding his gaze as you looked at your hands. “I don’t know what to do.”
You sounded so lost, so uncertain and fragile, so unlike the strong, confident woman who’d stolen his heart almost two years ago. What had he done to you?
“I want to tell you that it’s okay,” you spoke again before he could say anything. “That I don’t mind that you missed my graduation because you were too busy saving the world. But that’s not really fair to me, is it? And now I feel selfish for thinking I’m more important than that to you. It’s all so messed up.”
Clark’s heart shattered when he saw just how deflated you looked and how distant you sounded. The fact that you felt like you came second in his life left an ugly taste in his mouth. He hated that you were starting to doubt your place in his life. He hated that he’d been taking you for granted.
“No, it’s not fair to you at all,” he said, his grip instinctively tightening on your knees. “You’re my top priority, doll. You always have been, and you always will be. What happened today…it won’t happen again. I promise you that.”
At least he hoped he could promise you that.
But you saw right through him, like you always did.
You let out a sad laugh as you shook your head. “You can’t. You can’t promise me that, can you?” you murmured miserably, and the room felt so thick with tension, it almost felt suffocating. “You say that now, but one day you’ll miss an anniversary or you’ll miss my birthday or something will come up on our wedding day. Please, Clark, don’t make promises to me that you can’t keep.”
Clark felt like he’d been punched in the gut again. It felt like his heart was being ripped in two. That was the only way to describe the pure agony he felt as he listened to your words. You seemed to have accepted that he would always fail you, and that hurt worse than anything.
You were right.
As much as it killed him to admit that, you were absolutely right. He can’t promise that one day he won’t have to put the world first on a day where he’s supposed to celebrate you again. Or that he won’t have to miss his wedding to save the day if something were to happen. Or even the birth of his child. Those were all very real moments he might not get to experience with you, all because he was Superman. And he’d fallen head over heels in love with you.
“You’re right,” he muttered, and he felt his own eyes sting, but he didn’t cry. There was no way he was going to cry right now when this was all his fault. This was all because of him. “I can’t promise you that, no matter how hard I’ll try to prevent another day like today. But I can promise you that I will always, always love you with everything that I am.”
Clark slowly stood up and moved to sit next to you on the couch, leaving a little space between you. The last thing he wanted to do was crowd you, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching over and taking your hand in his. He cradled it like it was the most precious thing in the world, which to him, it was, because it was a part of you.
“I can’t control everything that happens, but I need you to know that you’re first in my heart,” he placed your hand on his chest as he tried to get you to meet his eyes, but you weren’t letting up. “Every single day, you’re all I think about.”
Your hand was limp in his, no matter how hard he tried to get you to hold him back. It felt like you were giving up. Like you were already checking out, and he felt that panic begin to creep back in.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” you mumbled, and Clark could see more tears forming in your eyes. When you finally looked up at him, he held your hand a little tighter, because he did not like what he was seeing in your eyes. At all. “I don’t think I can. Maybe…maybe if we had a normal relationship…Maybe if we were normal.”
He knew exactly what you were saying and where you were going with this. He knew you and he didn’t have a ‘normal’ relationship because of his double life, but he thought you were okay with that. You had told him you were okay with that, so clearly he’d missed the part where you stopped being okay with that.
Clark could never provide you with a normal relationship, he knew that. But that never stopped him from trying. The thought of losing you, of you deciding that you deserved better than the chaos of dating Superman, terrified him more than anything. He knew you deserved that, a chance at a normal life, but Clark was selfish when it came to you. He always had been.
“We’re not normal, you’re right, and I wish we could be, but, baby, you’re everything to me. I love you more than anything. It’s the most normal thing about me, and about us,” he leaned in closer to you, your hand still limp in his own. “All I need, all I’ve ever needed is you. Please, don’t give up on us. On me.”
When you tried to look away again, Clark reached up with his free hand and took your chin between his thumb and index finger, making you look at him once more. “Come on, Clark,” you mumbled, your voice shaky and uncertain. “You don’t need to make this harder than it needs to be.”
He didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all.
What the fuck were you talking about?
“I’ve been thinking lately,” you trailed off as you sniffled, and your actions were so clearly betraying your words right now, it wasn’t even funny. “About us. About how we don’t work.”
Now that wasn’t true. That was something you weren’t right about.
You were just trying to hurt him back at this point, because he knew damn well you hadn’t been thinking about that. You and he have plans to move in together now that you’re done school and will have more time. Not once had he ever thought that you and he didn’t work, and he knew you didn’t believe that either.
And yet Clark still pulled back as if your words burned him, his eyes staring into yours in disbelief. It wasn’t like you at all to push him away like this. “Don’t say that. That’s not true and you know it. Don’t say things you don’t mean just to get back at me,” he pleaded. “The plans we’ve made, us moving in together, none of that has changed for me.”
You sniffled again, and the way your expression turned to one of guilt let him know that you just said that to try and get even with him. “Maybe I didn’t mean that,” you said quietly, looking down at your joined hands. “But I don’t know what to do here. I don’t know how to compete with everything in your life, Clark. I knew what I was getting into when we got together, but today was really eye opening for me.”
That brought a little relief to him, as sad as that sounded. You hadn’t fully given up on him. Yet. “Compete? There’s no competition, doll. Sometimes things just happen that aren’t part of our plans, like today. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that,” he leaned in and pressed his forehead to yours, needing to be close to you after feeling so far away all night. His hands came up and cradled your face, his touch the most gentle it’s ever been. “Don’t go back on our plans, baby. Move in with me.”
You sighed and wrapped your hands around his wrists, and this was the first time you’ve touched him all night. “I want to,” you whispered, but then you gently pulled his hands away from your face. “But I don’t know if I can anymore. At least not right now.”
Clark’s hands fell to his lap as he watched you get up from the couch and cross your arms, taking a few steps back to put some distance between the two of you.
“You should probably…you should probably go now,” you said quietly, and the fact that you hadn’t raised your voice at him once the entire time he’s been here was not lost to him.
But now you wanted him out. You wanted him gone. This was not how he thought today was going to go at all. He wanted to keep apologizing to you, but you clearly had your mind made up before he even got here.
It wasn’t going to end. Not like this. Not at all.
“No,” he said with a surprisingly steady, deep voice. He stood up from the couch as well, towering over you but also keeping a respectful distance. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/n. Not until we figure this out. Pushing me away won’t solve anything, you know that. What do I need to do to make you see how sorry I am about today?”
You pursed your lips and shrugged. “I don’t know what you need to do, Clark. I don’t know what to think or how to feel right now, alright? I’m just confused,” you said, your voice laced with frustration. “I just need some time, okay? Give me some time. I’m tired and I’m not thinking clearly right now.”
Clark didn’t like the resignation in your tone, but what was he supposed to do at this point? Refuse to leave? That would just make things worse. Get down on his knees and start begging? That would just overwhelm you.
Time. You just needed time. He could give you that. He would give you that.
His hands curled into fists at his side as he nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving you as he stepped back. “Okay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll give you time. All the time you need.”
Even though the thought of being away from you right now made his chest ache.
He wanted to tell you that he would wait forever for you to come back to him, but he wasn’t sure that would help the situation in any way. So he kept those words to himself.
This was not how he thought he’d be ending his day. Not at all how he thought tonight would go. By now, he thought he’d have whisked you away to bed for the night, where you and he wouldn’t leave until late tomorrow morning. He thought he’d be telling you every sweet thought that came to mind by whispering them against your skin. Thought he’d wear you out to the point of you begging him to take the day off tomorrow so he could spend it with you instead.
And of course, he would’ve.
But that wasn’t happening. That wasn’t even close to happening.
Clark’s eyes were stinging again as he moved further away from you, even though every single part of him screamed for him to go back to you. He needed to give you what you wanted right now.
All he could do was hope that you’d be willing to talk more tomorrow, and hopefully things will get figured out.
“You know where to find me, how to reach me,” he mumbled miserably, and you just nodded. He walked to the door that leads out to the hallway instead of the balcony, then turned to look at you again. “I love you. More than anything.”
And then he left and closed the door behind him, and the entire time he was walking away from your apartment, he had the worst feeling in his stomach.
One that told him tomorrow wouldn’t be any better, and one that told him this was the end.
-
Ouch. Ouch. I do have a part 2 in mind if someone needs it. Please need it. Here is part 2.
