Wish I Never Saw Your Face
by Beth C.

"Clark, I just want you to understand me"

He wanted wrinkles.

Lines criss-crossing his face, noting every little bit of pain, stress and sadness. Creases throughout his perfect trousers and jacket, showing every night spend sleeping in an airline seat or on the couch in his office.

He wanted gray hairs.

If the meteor hadn't taken his red hair, he could imagine the little specks of white spreading through his mane. In fact, at this point, he could imagine a full head of gray hair. Or maybe at this point, his hair would be falling out and he'd have a nice little bald spot.

Lex wanted any signs of wear. He wanted to look the way he felt.

But he was Lex Luthor and Lex Luthor always had to look perfect.

"I'm not a hurt little boy, Clark."

He couldn't remember the last time he felt his age.

Even with Clark he felt ancient.

Directing him in bed, explaining books to him, explaining his life over and over again.

He couldn't remember youth.

"I'm not bruised on the inside, nor do I go home and cry about how bad I am."

He missed Clark.

He missed being touched, being held, and even arguing.

Voice raised, face red with anger, mouth as open as it could get to scream. He missed the clashing of bodies in the middle of it. That frantic, passionate feeling where you're kissing and groping and, you're not even sure of what started the fighting.

He missed flannel shirts, Mama Kent's cooking, and having Clark to hog the blankets.

"I can't be good, but I can be good to you."

Why was it so important to change?

Lex liked himself, and liked his life.

Well, he liked himself when Clark was there.

When Clark would smile at him, and he'd feel like a good person.

Where along the way did he lose the ability to be good?

Did he ever even have it?

"I want to be yours and I want you to be mine."

He turned him down.

Something about how Lex couldn't truly love, how Clark couldn't do it anymore, and how he gave up on Lex a long time ago.

Lex started to beg, but Lionel's voice rang in his head, "Luthors never show weakness."

Well, if Clark didn't want him, then Superman didn't want him, and no one would ever want him again.

Smallville's strangest occurrence was Clark, and love, and commitment, and youth, and happiness.

He slipped the small ring on his finger, the green kryptonite shimmering in the light.

Clark would have to die, and Lex would have to kill him.

"Clark, I love you."


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