hackthis_archive (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hackthis_archive) wrote2004-01-06 12:53 pm
hackthis_archive) wrote2004-01-06 12:53 pm
Nobody ever talks about the morning after.
Smallville
Just Say No
“I waited for so long that I think I forgot what I was waiting for,” he says to no one in particular as he washes his hands beneath a running tap of scalding water. “Anticipation is the ultimate drug.”
The words float out of Lex’s mouth like smoke, and he’s almost surprised that he can’t see them. Almost.
He couldn’t see so many other things for so long though, that he shouldn’t really be surprised. After all, the skin on his hands is practically being boiled, he’s got an alien asleep in his bed, and he’s talking to himself in the bathroom in four in the morning.
Nothing should surprise him anymore.
Except that Lex isn’t the sort of man who talks to himself.
He likes to tell himself that he’s not the sort of man who does a lot of things.
If he wants people to listen, he can make a speech, and if he wants someone to talk to, that’s what therapy is for. He knows that talking to himself is a bad sign, because inevitably Louis appears, and that’s pretty much a sign of a psychotic break.
But Lex isn’t psychotic; he’s just tired. He’s so fucking tired of all the shit, and maybe life with Louis will be better than life with Clark.
Louis never lied to him.
That has to count for something.
Lex pauses in his ministrations to locate the square blue brush in the soapy water. Taking a firm hold, he scrubs underneath his nails, relishing the feel of the harsh bristles scouring away skin cells.
Certain narcotics and obsessions always make him act a little manic about his cleaning habits, but he’s alone in his cavernous bathroom, and his voice echoes off the tiles, reverberating into words he hasn’t said yet.
Blood. Come. All undone.
His muscles scream from abuse, and every part of his anatomy feels raw and unclean as though he passed out in a back alley for an unspecified amount of time. It’s like detox.
Lex used to think that this, that Clark, would make him better, cleaner. But now, he just feels dirty. Filthy. It’s all the same.
“Aliens and reporters tell the same story again and again.”
Lex repeats himself a second time, and the words roll off his tongue like blue pills before he’s really given them due consideration. He turns off the water and sets the nailbrush on the counter.
He blinks at his reflection in the enormous mirror over the sink and pauses. Seventy-five watt bulbs illuminate the faint circles under his eyes and the darkening bruises that dot his shoulders. If he turns his right shoulder slightly inwards, towards his chest, he can see the remaining four bruises that make up Clark’s finger span.
Clark Kent. Superman. Super Clark Kent.
He can’t possibly think that Lex doesn’t know, especially after all this time. But Clark never says anything. He just keeps feeding Lex the same shit like baking powder substituted for grade-A coke.
Superman is a good friend.
Lex smirks to himself. “Anticipation is better than Ecstasy and heroin and any pill combination washed down with a single-malt from before the Civil War. It’s better than sex, even Super Sex.”
He leans in close to examine tiny pores and flawless skin magnified. He reaches out blindly for his toothbrush, and leans back to find the toothpaste and turn on the cold water.
With a mouth full of foam, he talks around the electronic whirring of his toothbrush. ”Anticipation makes the best high even better.”
He spits in the sink and then rinses his mouth out, but the bitterness is still there.
He leans forward until his breath ghosts over the mirror, leaving warm circles of condensation. “When you’re down, anticipation digs your hole even deeper; and when you’re afraid, anticipation will give you a heart attack.”
Something creaks behind him and Lex whirls around, but there’s nobody there. If anticipation has made Lex paranoid, then finally fucking Clark has made things even worse.
Lex always hoped that this -- fucking Clark -- would fix what was broken, but clearly he was wrong, and if hope is a narcotic, Lex has already bottomed out. His tolerance has become so high that it doesn’t do anything for him anymore. Every hesitation, every shuttered look tossed his way is the same as crashing down the night after snorting lines and lies up his nose.
Lex used to hope that Clark would confide in him. He used to hope that he was worthy of the truth, but deep down, in that place that has no name, he’s always known otherwise.
There are some places hope just can never reach. These are the places that Lex searched for when he was in inside Clark, but now he realizes that they’re just not there.
He had so much hope for what they would become together, but that’s all shit now, blown away like powder in a breeze.
He crosses to the doorway and throws the switch on in the bedroom.
The alien. Clark. Whomever, *what*ever, makes a grunting sound and rolls over. “Lex? What time is it? It feels like it’s the middle of the night.”
Lex is at the foot of the bed and yanking the blankets down before he can think twice. Anticipation is thrumming in his veins.
Some drugs you never get clean of.
“Get out,” he says, his voice low and harsh. “I’m tired of all your lies.”
Clark’s eyes are huge in his face, and Lex will always remember the last time he did hardcore drugs. “I can’t get clean with you around here feeding me your bullshit, *Superman*.”
Lex has never seen anybody lose their color that quickly.
“Did you think I didn’t know?” he rails. “How long did you think you could keep all these things from me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clark protests.
“Bull. Shit,” Lex carefully enunciates. “I’m not listening to anymore of your bullshit.”
Clark just stares.
“You know, I think you’re worse than any drug I’ve ever done,” Lex says. “At least with the drugs, I knew I was killing myself. You pretend to want what’s best for me, but you don’t even fucking trust me. You’re killing me faster than anything else. I don’t need you; I don’t want you. I want you gone.”
“It’s not what it seems like,” Clark says. “I lov—“
“Everybody loves drugs,” Lex cuts him off. “Until they’re dead.”
Clark’s scrabbling for sheets even as Lex is tossing balled up shirts and ties at him. “What are you talking about? What does any of this have to do with drugs?”
“Nothing. Everything. I believed in you, and you saved me just so you could kill me yourself. That sounds pretty selfish to me. Where do you keep that suit at anyway?” Lex asks shaking Clark’s pants upside down for several seconds before casting them aside.
“I saved you because I need you. I’ll always need you.”
“No, you saved me because you need people to believe in you. You have your own junkie issues: you need to be needed.” Lex’s feral grin says it all. “I don’t need you anymore. I want you to get out.”
Clark’s only half dressed, but his jaw is set in that Kent line. “This isn’t over.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Lex says turning on his heel and stalking back to the bathroom. “People are always battling their addictions.”
-end-
-Notes:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
serialkarma read over it, but the remaining fuckups are all mine. Isn’t ownership a nice thing?
“I waited for so long that I think I forgot what I was waiting for,” he says to no one in particular as he washes his hands beneath a running tap of scalding water. “Anticipation is the ultimate drug.”
The words float out of Lex’s mouth like smoke, and he’s almost surprised that he can’t see them. Almost.
He couldn’t see so many other things for so long though, that he shouldn’t really be surprised. After all, the skin on his hands is practically being boiled, he’s got an alien asleep in his bed, and he’s talking to himself in the bathroom in four in the morning.
Nothing should surprise him anymore.
Except that Lex isn’t the sort of man who talks to himself.
He likes to tell himself that he’s not the sort of man who does a lot of things.
If he wants people to listen, he can make a speech, and if he wants someone to talk to, that’s what therapy is for. He knows that talking to himself is a bad sign, because inevitably Louis appears, and that’s pretty much a sign of a psychotic break.
But Lex isn’t psychotic; he’s just tired. He’s so fucking tired of all the shit, and maybe life with Louis will be better than life with Clark.
Louis never lied to him.
That has to count for something.
Lex pauses in his ministrations to locate the square blue brush in the soapy water. Taking a firm hold, he scrubs underneath his nails, relishing the feel of the harsh bristles scouring away skin cells.
Certain narcotics and obsessions always make him act a little manic about his cleaning habits, but he’s alone in his cavernous bathroom, and his voice echoes off the tiles, reverberating into words he hasn’t said yet.
Blood. Come. All undone.
His muscles scream from abuse, and every part of his anatomy feels raw and unclean as though he passed out in a back alley for an unspecified amount of time. It’s like detox.
Lex used to think that this, that Clark, would make him better, cleaner. But now, he just feels dirty. Filthy. It’s all the same.
“Aliens and reporters tell the same story again and again.”
Lex repeats himself a second time, and the words roll off his tongue like blue pills before he’s really given them due consideration. He turns off the water and sets the nailbrush on the counter.
He blinks at his reflection in the enormous mirror over the sink and pauses. Seventy-five watt bulbs illuminate the faint circles under his eyes and the darkening bruises that dot his shoulders. If he turns his right shoulder slightly inwards, towards his chest, he can see the remaining four bruises that make up Clark’s finger span.
Clark Kent. Superman. Super Clark Kent.
He can’t possibly think that Lex doesn’t know, especially after all this time. But Clark never says anything. He just keeps feeding Lex the same shit like baking powder substituted for grade-A coke.
Superman is a good friend.
Lex smirks to himself. “Anticipation is better than Ecstasy and heroin and any pill combination washed down with a single-malt from before the Civil War. It’s better than sex, even Super Sex.”
He leans in close to examine tiny pores and flawless skin magnified. He reaches out blindly for his toothbrush, and leans back to find the toothpaste and turn on the cold water.
With a mouth full of foam, he talks around the electronic whirring of his toothbrush. ”Anticipation makes the best high even better.”
He spits in the sink and then rinses his mouth out, but the bitterness is still there.
He leans forward until his breath ghosts over the mirror, leaving warm circles of condensation. “When you’re down, anticipation digs your hole even deeper; and when you’re afraid, anticipation will give you a heart attack.”
Something creaks behind him and Lex whirls around, but there’s nobody there. If anticipation has made Lex paranoid, then finally fucking Clark has made things even worse.
Lex always hoped that this -- fucking Clark -- would fix what was broken, but clearly he was wrong, and if hope is a narcotic, Lex has already bottomed out. His tolerance has become so high that it doesn’t do anything for him anymore. Every hesitation, every shuttered look tossed his way is the same as crashing down the night after snorting lines and lies up his nose.
Lex used to hope that Clark would confide in him. He used to hope that he was worthy of the truth, but deep down, in that place that has no name, he’s always known otherwise.
There are some places hope just can never reach. These are the places that Lex searched for when he was in inside Clark, but now he realizes that they’re just not there.
He had so much hope for what they would become together, but that’s all shit now, blown away like powder in a breeze.
He crosses to the doorway and throws the switch on in the bedroom.
The alien. Clark. Whomever, *what*ever, makes a grunting sound and rolls over. “Lex? What time is it? It feels like it’s the middle of the night.”
Lex is at the foot of the bed and yanking the blankets down before he can think twice. Anticipation is thrumming in his veins.
Some drugs you never get clean of.
“Get out,” he says, his voice low and harsh. “I’m tired of all your lies.”
Clark’s eyes are huge in his face, and Lex will always remember the last time he did hardcore drugs. “I can’t get clean with you around here feeding me your bullshit, *Superman*.”
Lex has never seen anybody lose their color that quickly.
“Did you think I didn’t know?” he rails. “How long did you think you could keep all these things from me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Clark protests.
“Bull. Shit,” Lex carefully enunciates. “I’m not listening to anymore of your bullshit.”
Clark just stares.
“You know, I think you’re worse than any drug I’ve ever done,” Lex says. “At least with the drugs, I knew I was killing myself. You pretend to want what’s best for me, but you don’t even fucking trust me. You’re killing me faster than anything else. I don’t need you; I don’t want you. I want you gone.”
“It’s not what it seems like,” Clark says. “I lov—“
“Everybody loves drugs,” Lex cuts him off. “Until they’re dead.”
Clark’s scrabbling for sheets even as Lex is tossing balled up shirts and ties at him. “What are you talking about? What does any of this have to do with drugs?”
“Nothing. Everything. I believed in you, and you saved me just so you could kill me yourself. That sounds pretty selfish to me. Where do you keep that suit at anyway?” Lex asks shaking Clark’s pants upside down for several seconds before casting them aside.
“I saved you because I need you. I’ll always need you.”
“No, you saved me because you need people to believe in you. You have your own junkie issues: you need to be needed.” Lex’s feral grin says it all. “I don’t need you anymore. I want you to get out.”
Clark’s only half dressed, but his jaw is set in that Kent line. “This isn’t over.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Lex says turning on his heel and stalking back to the bathroom. “People are always battling their addictions.”
-end-
-Notes:
serialkarma read over it, but the remaining fuckups are all mine. Isn’t ownership a nice thing?
no subject
Ohhhh, I love this. I love the stark reality of it, the uncompromising look at what it's done to him physically and mentally.
This, to me, is what *would* happen if they somehow avoided a rift as their world extended beyond Smallville. It's going to break them, one day and I've tried to explain this before in discussing what I feel like *could* be coming this season--as much as anyone wants to deny it and hope that somehow the rift will occur from circumstances beyond their control, it most likely will result from one of them finally breaking and making an unpopular choice.
Beautifully done, when you show that breaking point. Beautiful. You know what? I don't care if you're writing dark, (fuck, I *love* dark, contrary to popular belief) because you do that *just* as beautifully as you've ever written them skittering around various neuroses in Smallville. Fabulously evil little story. I love it!
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Most relationships tend to be like drugs. Some are good, some are bad, but they all leave a residue somewhere.
Beautifully done, when you show that breaking point. Beautiful. You know what? I don't care if you're writing dark, (fuck, I *love* dark, contrary to popular belief) because you do that *just* as beautifully as you've ever written them skittering around various neuroses in Smallville. Fabulously evil little story. I love it!
There was a time when all I wanted was for Lex to have his happily ever after, whatever that entailed, but now I'm just like 'meh.' Once again my cyncism has bled into my writing, but those are the breaks.
I'm glad you enjoyed it, though, thank you.
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Also this:
Nothing should surprise him anymore.
Except that Lex isn’t the sort of man who talks to himself.
He likes to tell himself that he’s not the sort of man who does a lot of things.
*loves*
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I'm only as good as my betas. Without you I'd be really crap. *adores*
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“No, you saved me because you need people to believe in you. You have your own junkie issues: you need to be needed.”
I love that line because it's the damn truth.
This is dark but there is that bit of hope at the end because Clark won't let something like this go without a huge fight.
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All I can think about is that breaking point that everyone has where they just can't take anymore. Some come sooner, some come later, but they're always there.
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Great job, Zahra.
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Lex tries so hard for Clark, but everybody has that point when they're like 'WTF! This has got to stop!' et voila. I'm glad you enjoyed it, Lyra.
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I was surprised by Clark's reaction.
Clark’s only half dressed, but his jaw is set in that Kent line. “This isn’t over.”
Not guilt ridden. But ominous. I like that.
no subject
Clark’s only half dressed, but his jaw is set in that Kent line. “This isn’t over.”
Not guilt ridden. But ominous. I like that.
Oh, yes, very ominous. I thought about having them fight it out, but I believe in regrouping before battle and all that. Even when it's over, it's never over.
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And for some reason I can't explain, the last paragraph made me laugh in a way that you might laugh at a dark comedy.
Found one typo --
“I don’t know what you’re talking,” Clark protests.
should be ``talking about''
no subject
“I don’t know what you’re talking,” Clark protests.
should be ``talking about''
*cracks up* It doesn't matter how many times you read something over, there's always going to be something that slips through the cracks. Thanks for catching that!
And for some reason I can't explain, the last paragraph made me laugh in a way that you might laugh at a dark comedy.
I am all about the dark comedy. And the snark. Long live the snark. Strangely enough you just inspired me to write Harry Potter. How odd.
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http://www.nodestination.net/meret/justsaynocoverfrommeret.jpg
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YES!!!! You're brilliant, you know that, right? So sharp, so painful and yet so perfect. I think I actually passed the point where I believe that Lex could ever have a real (happy) relationship with Clark. And if he'd ever attempted, this is how I want it to end. You so nailed it.
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There was a time when it was really easy for me to write a happy something or other for Clark and Lex, but these days I'm all about Lex for President! and Lex as World Ruler! Superwho?
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I can't even work on my AU anymore. *sigh* I keep thinking why should Clark get Lex? He doesn't deserve him anymore. Even in AU.
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