Late
(DC) Lena Luthor x reader
Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of gun, terminal illness, mentions of alcohol, angst, not proofread yet.
Summary: Y/N has a terminal illness, Lena offers to make a cure. 1258
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You called in sick for yet another day, allowing yourself to sulk in your despair. What else is a person meant to do once informed they have little time in their pathetic mortal life?
You and Lena weren’t that close anyway it was more of an employer and employee type of relationship. Perhaps with a few game nights with her friends here and there but that barely happened. Lena had tried calling you a few times but you let it ring. You watched it ring. What would you say if you picked it up anyway, ‘Hey I’m dying hope you don't mind me missing a few days’.
For days on end Lena would call every few hours, along with concerned friends of hers. She was surrounded and loved by so many people, what difference would it make if it were one less.
Nonetheless, Lena rummaged through her employee files till she found yours, scanning through it for your address and writing it down. She’s quick to gather her stuff and speed out the company building to your place with a casserole in hand. Once she arrives she knocks on the door only for it to open, seemingly unlocked, she double checks the sticky note for the apartment number in concern. A-401.
You were a very cautious person, there's no way you would leave your apartment unlocked. She knocks once more before letting herself in and calling out your name, shutting the door behind her. Looking around at the dark apartment she notices how bottles of different colors and sizes littered the living room.
Her attention instantly spikes when she sees movement out of the corner of her eye, you stand there. Your disheveled figure leaning against the wall lit up by the light from the hallway you just came out from. Just as she was about to step towards you, concern etched on her face, you raise pointing your gun at her shakily with a bottle of something in your other hand. With the pungent scent in the air she could tell it was some sort of alcohol.
“Woah there y/n, it's me, Lena.” she raises her hand in surrender. “Miss Luthor..?” your voice came out hoarse and shaky. “Yes, that's me” Lena was evidently more anxious now. You slide down the wall dropping your gun and taking a long swig of your beverage. She comes closer and realizes you were sweating and shivering at the same time, she takes the bottle from you and you don’t argue.
She places a hand on your forehead checking for a fever but you swat away her hand, Lena’s face contorts in confusion. “You have no fever…what’s wrong then?” she asks as she helps you up and onto your living room couch, pulling away the now empty bottle. You couldn’t think of a better way to break it to her, not like there was one in the first place.
“I’m dying.” your voice doesn’t even quiver, making her think you were probably just exaggerating the feeling of being sick and she nervously chuckles “it can’t be that bad”. But it was. It is. “Lena. Look at me” You look into her eyes, “I’m dying Lena…”. You explain how you haven't been feeling well for a while, thinking it was probably from stress or sleep deprivation. But once the pain stopped being mental and became physical you had no option but to visit a doctor to get relief from the pain. Only to be diagnosed with a terminal illness you’ve never heard of.
Once you finished explaining, Lena seemed completely out of it, her eyes wide and teary. So you reach for another bottle from the coffee table, next thing you know you were pressed back into the couch by a hug from a sobbing Lena. “You’ll be fine. You’ll live. I’ll find the cure myself” ______________________________________________________________
It's been days since Lena last visited. She shot you a few texts a couple times to check in on you, sending you words of encouragement and comfort. You couldn’t find it within you to spare any energy to make yourself any food and didn’t bother ordering takeout either which was out of character for you, you’d usually jump at the chance to order takeout. But you weren’t feeling up to it. And it seemed as if Lena had the same train of thoughts, because the day after she saw you in this state for the first time she sent you pre-prepped meals with delivery guys or sometimes takeout.
‘Hang in tight, I’m working on it.’ - Ms. Luthor 02:13 AM
A pang of guilt strikes through you. You hated how she pulled all-nighters to work on a slim to none chance of your survival. You tried ringing her to call it off and come up with some excuse but only wallowed deeper in your guilt after it went straight to voicemail. ______________________________________________________________
It’s been almost a week since you last saw or spoke to Lena, she still sent food everyday so you knew she was okay. You however, not so much. You could feel yourself getting weaker, and on the fifth day you fell bed ridden. The delivery guys gave up on ringing the doorbell and just started leaving the food outside the apartment door. Which earned you knocks and complaints from the neighbors from the smell of the molding food.
But you could no longer move, no longer speak, no longer stay awake to deal with the issue. Your phone seemed so close yet so far away, you couldn’t reach for it from how weak and pathetic you felt. All you did was sleep in an attempt to replenish your energy that way, all you wanted was to sleep.
‘Hang on y/n…I’m almost there’ Lena thought to herself as she bottled the blue liquid packing a syringe with it, finally making a breakthrough after trapping herself in her lab in search of any sort of cure or treatment. She didn’t want to waste any time looking for her phone and quickly rushed out the company door wanting to get to you as soon as possible.
Once she arrives at the apartment building she’s met with the stinging scent of rotting food, she covers her nose taking out the spare key you gave her only to find out, once again. The door was unlocked.
Lena rushes into the apartment and into your bedroom, relaxing once she spots your body huddled up in between blankets and pillows. She slowly made her way to the bedside table turning on the lamp. “y/n?” she whispered as to not startle her. “I did it y/n I found the cure” Lena whispered, her eyes tearing up as she smiled excitedly.
She waits for a response from you, her heart beating out of her chest in anticipation. Her brows furrow in concern, “y/n..?” she hesitantly reaches her hand out shaking you awake. Your body which was facing the wall, now laid on its back and your hand fell limp off of the side of the bed.
Pale. Blue lips. A shaky hand reaches to check your neck for a pulse, her eyes widen and she flinches at the cold touch of your once warm skin. She stumbled backwards, losing her footing and falling to the floor into choked sobs.
She was supposed to save you. You were supposed to live. You were supposed to make it. If only she had been earlier…perhaps you would’ve lived to thank her.
But she was late…and you, gone too soon.
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my apologies for not being on, writers block goes hard.