the stench of smoke is the first thing alex notices upon entering the apartment. it’s definitely not her. she tries to be quiet but that remains a pipe dream as the door gives a treacherous groan when being closed. so much for that. but despite her sister’s super-hearing, kara usually sleeps like a rock. alex just hopes this time is no different. grabbing a worn shirt from the back of the couch, she locks herself into the bathroom and promptly strips out of her clothes, tying her hair back into a messy ponytail and making short work of her smeared makeup while she swishes her mouth with listerine. anything to get rid of the smell and taste of alcohol and vomit. it’s more effort than she usually puts in. but alex doesn’t usually come home to someone sleeping in her bed.
padding across the living space on bare feet, she pointedly ignores the taunting bright red digits illuminated on her alarm clock — 4:41 am. that’s when her gaze lands on a heap of clothes she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing, pushed slightly but not completely under the frame on the end of kara’s side of the bed. they stink of burning wood, molten plastic and singed polyester. shoulders sinking further with a heavy sigh, alex reaches up to pinch the bridge of her nose. she just can’t catch a break, can she? not wanting to think about the implications of her sister’s actions, she tries her best to suppress the ice cold dread sloshing around her stomach, the weight pressing down on her, and slips under the covers next to the seemingly fast asleep kryptonian. but it’s too late, her own piece of mind is already shot. sleep simply isn’t going to happen.
