Too Much, Too Close

And there was something 'bout you that now I can't remember
It's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender...

The air in Lena’s bedroom was heavy, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Kara Danvers—Supergirl—had lied. For years, Lena had poured trust and friendship into someone who had been hiding an earth-shattering truth. It wasn’t the alien part that cut the deepest; it was the betrayal, the deceit wrapped in that bright, disarming smile.

It had been weeks since Lena last spoke to Kara, save for sharp words exchanged in meetings or cold glances in passing. Now, she noticed the forgotten book.

It was tucked among a pile of old articles and stray notes from Kara’s desk at CatCo—left behind in the chaos of their fractured relationship. Lena hadn’t meant to grab it, but curiosity and bitterness got the better of her.

The cover was plain, its leather binding worn, the faint scent of ink lingering as she ran her fingers over it. A small handwritten title read: "Dreams of the Sun."

“Always so sentimental,” Lena muttered under her breath. A part of her wanted to shove it into a drawer, to cast it aside with everything else Kara had ruined. But another part—a more curious, spiteful part—flipped it open instead.

The first page held only one line in Kara’s handwriting, delicate and almost reverent: “For the moments I can’t say out loud.”

Lena’s heart clenched against her will, but she turned the page. And there it was.

Like Icarus

I loved you like Icarus loved the sky,
Too much, too close, too willing to die.
Your light, a sun I couldn’t resist,
Burning through me with every kiss.

You were distant, sharp, a guarded flame,
Yet I still reached, still whispered your name.
Even as your walls loomed tall and steep,
Even as your silence cut me deep.

You held the stars in your delicate hands,
A universe I could never withstand.
I knew you were fire; I knew I would burn,
But loving you taught me—I never could learn.

You warned me once, in your coldest tone,
That the sun was cruel to those who’d flown.
But I didn’t care, I wanted the blaze,
To drown in your warmth, to lose in the haze.

I touched the edges of what you concealed,
A fortress of pain you refused to yield.
Still, I soared with wings undone,
Chasing a love that rivaled the sun.

Every moment near you was both heaven and hell,
Every word from your lips a binding spell.
I would die a thousand deaths, break a thousand times,
For the chance to make your light mine.

The wax melted, the feathers fell,
Your love, my torment, my bittersweet hell.
I crashed to the ocean, broken, bare,
But drowning was bliss, with you still there.

For you, Lena, I’d scorch and bleed,
I’d shatter myself to meet your need.
You were my heaven, my sin, my pain,
I’d burn just to hold you, again and again.

What is a heart if it doesn’t ignite?
If it doesn’t crave its ruin for just one light?
I loved you too much, loved you too close,
But losing you—that is what hurts the most.

I would rise once more, wings in disarray,
To touch you again, come what may.
Let the wax dissolve, let the feathers fall—
If you are the sun, I would risk it all.

Because loving you, Lena, is worth the pain,
Worth the fire, the fall, the rain.
I’d choose the crash, the breaking, the end,
If it meant being near you to ascend.

Like Icarus, I’ll never regret the flight,
For loving you made me burn so bright.
Too much, too close, too undone—
But for you, Lena, I’d chase the sun.

Lena tossed the book onto her bed, the words twisting in her mind like an uninvited ache. No. This couldn’t be real. She wouldn’t allow herself to believe that Kara had poured her heart into such a thing. It was a sick joke, an attempt to manipulate her feelings further.

“I don’t want to hear this,” she muttered defiantly, rubbing her eyes as if trying to wipe away the remnants of the poem. But the words lingered, echoing in her thoughts.

With a sigh, she picked it up again, convinced that if she skimmed through it, she’d find something to justify her anger. She flipped to the next page, half-hoping for something that would confirm her belief that Kara was a liar and nothing more.

Silent Surrender

I stood on the edge, heart in my throat,
Yearning for words, the chance to emote.
But silence held me, a shackle of fear,
While you were a beacon, so dazzlingly near.

Each glance you cast was a blade to my core,
Cutting through layers, demanding me more.
Yet I built up my walls, so tall and so wide,
Hiding the truth that I held deep inside.

To love you in whispers, to long from afar,
To hold back my heart while you shone like a star.
It felt like a crime to want you so deep,
But the secret I carried was mine, mine to keep.

In shadows, I lingered, a ghost in the light,
Watching you soar while I trembled in fright.
But here in the dark, I confess my desire,
To burn with the heat of a thousand suns’ fire.

“No!” Lena cried, slamming the book shut. She couldn’t do this. She wouldn’t. Kara had betrayed her; these words were a trap, a way to dig deep into her heart and twist the knife.

Yet a small voice in the back of her mind whispered that perhaps Kara had meant every word, had felt every syllable as deeply as Lena herself felt the pain of betrayal. But no, that was impossible.

She tossed the book onto her bedside table and stood, pacing the room, her heart racing. “I won’t let you do this to me, Kara. I won’t fall for your lies again.”

But the denial was fragile, cracking under the weight of her emotions. Desperate for distraction, Lena picked the book up again, flipping through the pages, determined to find something that would prove her theory right.

When the Sky Falls

The sky is heavy, the weight of my sin,
Each star a reminder of where I’ve been.
The truth cuts like glass, sharp and unforgiving,
A reckoning for all the lies I’ve been living.

But loving you, Lena, was never the shame,
It’s the secret that echoes and whispers your name.
To dance in the flames of the lies that I spun,
Only to fall to the earth, away from the sun.

The moment I dared to touch what I crave,
The universe trembled, the ocean turned grave.
Yet I’d give it all up, the pain and the tears,
To be close to you, to conquer my fears.

“Fuck!” Lena shouted again, her heart racing. It was too much, all of it. Kara had spun these tales of love and longing, but they were woven from lies. She dropped the book to the floor, pacing, shaking her head.

She was angry, frustrated, a whirlwind of emotions that wouldn’t settle. How could she have let Kara in?

Yet as she stood there, staring at the book, her resolve began to crumble. The words she had read echoed in her mind, too beautiful, too raw to dismiss completely.

Lena picked it up once more, trembling fingers opening it to another poem.

Falling Upward

I fell for you, knowing the cost,
Knew that my heart was destined to be lost.
But in the fall, I found a strange grace,
A beauty in sorrow, in this empty space.

You were my sun, my impossible dream,
Yet I kept my distance, afraid of the gleam.
But what is a heart if it doesn't break?
If it doesn’t yearn for the love it can’t take?

I’d dive through the fire, swim through the storm,
For one fleeting moment where love is reborn.
Each ache that I feel, each tear that I shed,
Is a testament to the words left unsaid.

As she read the last line, Lena felt the dam inside her begin to crack. She wanted to deny it all, to push it away and cling to her anger, but Kara’s words held a truth she couldn’t ignore.

“Damn it, Kara,” Lena whispered, her voice breaking. The tears she had held at bay began to spill over, each drop a reminder of what she had lost, what she had pushed away.

The book lay open in her lap, pages fluttering softly as if urging her to understand. The poems were not just words; they were the raw, aching truth of what had been between them.

Maybe Kara had lied, but maybe—just maybe—she had loved, too.

Lena sank into her bed, tears streaming down her face as she realized she would have to confront her feelings, confront Kara, and decide whether she could ever trust her again. The night stretched on, filled with the haunting beauty of Kara’s words,

Lena sat frozen, her breath shallow, her hands trembling as they clutched the book. She wanted to put it down, to shove it away like the memories of Kara she tried so hard to bury. But she couldn’t.

Kara always had a way with words, whether it was a nervous babble or a quiet confession. But none of those words—none—had ever hit Lena like these.

These weren’t just words. They were Kara’s soul spilled out on paper, raw and unguarded, the kind of vulnerability Lena had never allowed herself to imagine from the woman she now called a liar.

Her fingers moved before her mind could stop them, turning the page to another poem.

A Sun That Never Sets

I didn’t know what love was
Until you showed me.
It wasn’t grand declarations or perfect moments,
But the quiet, subtle way you existed—
Unyielding, unrelenting,
A force I never stood a chance against.

You, Lena, are a sun that never sets.
Your light isn’t blinding;
It’s soft, steady,
The kind that seeps into your bones,
That lingers in the dark.
The kind that makes you want to live
Even when everything else tells you to stop.

But how do you stand before a sun
When you know you’ll only cast a shadow?
How do you love something so vast
When you are small, fragile,
And breaking at the seams?

I tried to tell you once,
Not with words, but with actions.
Every look, every touch,
Every time I stayed just a little too long.
But I am no hero,
And I was too afraid to say it out loud:
I love you.

Even now, I’m afraid.
Afraid that my love isn’t enough,
That my lies have burned the bridge
I so desperately wanted to cross.
But you, Lena,
You are the sun that never sets.

And I would orbit you forever,
Even if you never turned to see me again.

Lena’s chest ached as she read the last line, her fingers pressing against the page as if she could feel the weight of Kara’s confession. She shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she whispered, though her voice wavered. “You lied to me, Kara. You betrayed me.”

But even as she said it, her resolve faltered. Because these words weren’t calculated; they weren’t the careful half-truths she had accused Kara of spinning. They were messy, desperate, and heartbreakingly real.

Lena leaned back against her headboard, staring at the ceiling as if it could somehow give her the answers. She told herself she would stop, that she wouldn’t let Kara’s words break through the walls she had built. But the pull was too strong.

She turned the page again.

The Language of Silence

You always hated silence,
Did you know that?
Whenever the world grew too quiet,
You filled the space with something—
A comment, a laugh, a question.
Anything to keep the silence at bay.

But I loved it.
Not the awkward kind, not the tense kind.
The silence that only came with you.
The kind that spoke louder than words,
That said things I could never say.

Like the way I watched you
When you weren’t looking.
The way my heart stuttered
When you laughed,
Or the way my world fell silent
Whenever you smiled at me.

I wish I could have told you,
But I was a coward.
I thought the silence would protect me,
Would keep you from seeing the truth.
But silence, I’ve learned,
Can be a cruel thing.

It can be the weight of all the things unsaid.
The moments missed.
The chances lost.

And now, in this silence,
All I can hear is your absence.

Lena closed the book, her hand shaking. She couldn’t read another word. Not tonight.

She pressed the heel of her hand to her chest, as if she could physically stop her heart from breaking any further. Kara’s voice was so loud in her head, the words wrapping around her like a ghost she couldn’t escape.

“This doesn’t mean you’re forgiven,” Lena said aloud, her voice cracking. The room was empty, but she said it anyway, as if Kara could hear her from wherever she was.

But even as she said it, Lena knew she couldn’t deny the truth. These poems—these raw, aching confessions—had shattered something inside her.

She placed the book gently on her nightstand, staring at it as if it might disappear. Sleep wouldn’t come tonight, she knew that much. Not with Kara’s words echoing in her head, pulling at the pieces of her heart she had thought were untouchable.

And still, despite everything, Lena knew she would pick the book up again tomorrow. Because as much as she wanted to hate Kara, as much as she wanted to hold on to her anger, she couldn’t stop herself.

She couldn’t stop falling for the words of a woman who had already burned for her.

Lena stared at the book resting on her nightstand as though it might burn her if she touched it again. She had told herself to stop, to put it away, to banish it to a drawer and forget the weight of Kara’s words.

And yet, she reached for it.

The world outside her window was cloaked in quiet darkness, the kind that felt too loud when you were left alone with your thoughts. Or, in Lena’s case, with Kara’s.

She opened the book again, her fingers brushing over Kara’s looping, slightly rushed handwriting. There was no doubt these were Kara’s words—every letter carried the warmth, earnestness, and vulnerability Lena had once loved about her.

Turning to the next page, Lena began to read.

A House of Light and Shadows

I built a house with trembling hands,
Walls of fear and shifting sands.
But you came in with steady grace,
And filled the empty, hollow space.

Your laughter hung like crystal chimes,
A melody that stopped my time.
Your touch, a warmth I’d never known,
Your presence turned the stone to home.

But shadows grew, my lies took shape,
The house I built began to break.
I told myself I kept you safe,
But safety cost the trust I gave.

Now I stand outside, locked from within,
Wondering if you'll let me in.
This house of light I cannot claim—
My love, my loss, my endless shame.

Lena swallowed hard, the words wrapping around her like chains. She wanted to stop, to throw the book across the room and scream at Kara for making her feel anything at all.

But her hands betrayed her, flipping to the next page.

The Fire Beneath My Wings

What is the cost of flying too high?
A taste of the heavens, the ache of goodbye.
I soared to your orbit, defied every rule,
But I burned for you, Lena—your sun made me a fool.

Your voice was the wind, your gaze was the sky,
I’d have fallen forever if it meant I could try.
But wings built of lies will shatter mid-flight,
And now all I see is an endless night.

I never deserved the warmth of your glow,
The kindness you gave I may never know.
But if love is a flame, then I’ve made my choice—
To burn in your fire, to drown in your voice.

Lena clutched the book tighter, her heart pounding. Each line was like a dagger, cutting through her anger, slicing through her carefully constructed walls.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she murmured, her voice shaking. “You still lied to me.”

But the words rang hollow, even to her own ears.

The Weight of Silence

I spoke in whispers, I spoke in glances,
Hoping you'd see through my awkward advances.
But silence grew heavy, a weight in the air,
And I let it crush what we could’ve shared.

I told myself lies, that you wouldn’t forgive,
That truth would destroy the life we could live.
But silence is louder than words left unsaid,
It haunts me like shadows, alive in my head.

If I could go back, I’d speak every truth,
Shatter the silence, unburden my youth.
But now it’s too late, the quiet remains,
A graveyard of love, of loss, and of pain.

Lena’s throat tightened as the poem ended. She pressed her fingers to her lips, as if to hold back the emotions threatening to spill. She hated this. Hated how Kara’s words made her feel seen, understood, and hurt all at once.

But she couldn’t stop.

A Love That Burns

They say love should be gentle, calm as the sea,
But my love for you is a storm within me.
It rages and roars, it devours and consumes,
A wildfire of longing that darkens my room.

I’d burn every star just to see you again,
Die over and over for moments we’ve spent.
To touch you, to hold you, to bask in your light,
I’d trade my forever for one perfect night.

But love that burns hot will turn into ash,
And I’m left with the ruins of what couldn’t last.
Yet still, I keep burning, a moth to your flame,
For loving you, Lena, is worth every pain.

Lena’s fingers shook as she closed the book, her heart hammering in her chest. Her breaths came shallow, and her mind raced with every word, every feeling Kara had poured into these pages.

She pulled her knees to her chest, clutching the book tightly as if it could ground her. The ache in her chest was unbearable, a mixture of anger, grief, and something she wasn’t ready to name.

Kara had lied. Kara had betrayed her. But these words—these painfully beautiful words—they were undeniable.

And as much as Lena wanted to deny it, she couldn’t stop reading. Kara’s love, her heartbreak, her soul was written in every line. And it was breaking Lena’s heart in ways she hadn’t thought possible.

The night stretched on, but sleep never came. Only the endless pull of Kara’s voice, calling to her from the pages she couldn’t let go of.

The clock ticked softly in the corner of Lena’s bedroom, the only sound in the suffocating quiet. Her hands trembled as she turned another page, desperate and furious and aching in a way she hadn’t felt in years. She told herself she would read just one more, but that lie crumbled the moment her eyes found the words.

Kara’s voice was there again, echoing in the quiet of her mind, each word carrying a mix of hope and despair.

Lena turned the page again, her breath hitching as her eyes scanned the next poem. Kara’s voice, her confessions, felt alive in the silence of the night. The words seemed to echo in Lena’s mind, rhythmic, relentless, and raw. Each line carried the weight of something Kara had never dared to say aloud.

The Price of Fire

They tell me fire consumes, destroys,
It burns away the world’s false joys.
But fire is life, it’s heat, it’s breath,
It warms the soul, it conquers death.

And I would burn, again, again,
I’d face the flames, I’d bear the pain,
If it meant a moment in your sun,
A fleeting glance before it’s done.

You are my heaven, my greatest flight,
The reason I chase endless night.
For loving you, I pay the cost—
The ashes of what I have lost.

If fire destroys, then let it be—
I’d burn forever to set you free.

Lena’s vision blurred as tears spilled freely. Her hand clenched the edge of the page, her heart a storm of emotion she couldn’t contain. Kara’s love for her was overwhelming, unbearable, and yet—so very real.

She whispered to the darkness, her voice breaking, “Why didn’t you just tell me, Kara?”

Her question fell into the silence, unanswered. Still, her hands moved of their own accord, turning the page to yet another poem.

I’d Kneel for You

I thought strength meant standing tall,
Unwavering, no cracks at all.
I built myself a fortress high,
A mask to shield, a heart to lie.

But love, I’ve learned, can make you fall,
And begging can be strength, after all.
So here I am, on trembling knees,
Stripped bare, for you, I’d plead with ease.

I’d kneel before you, humbled, raw,
No shields, no lies, no perfect flaw.
My voice would crack, my hands would shake,
Each word an offering I’d make.

For all my power, all my might,
I’d trade it all to set things right.
If trust is fragile, let me mend,
I’d kneel and beg, I’d break, I’d bend.

My pride, my strength, it matters none,
For you, my battles would be won.
I’d drop my armor, let it rust,
If it means earning back your trust.

I’d bow my head, no crown, no flame,
Admitting fault, embracing shame.
To feel your gaze upon my face,
Even in anger, still a grace.

I’d press my hands against the ground,
Not as a queen, but one unbound.
I’d kneel in devotion, not for me,
But for the hope that you might see.

See that I’m flawed, I’m broken, too,
But every piece belongs to you.
See that my love is all I own,
And without you, I stand alone.

I’d kneel for you, my stubborn pride,
A worthless thing, now cast aside.
And if you leave, if trust won’t grow,
I’d stay here, kneeling, just to show—

That love is soft, that love can yield,
That hearts can mend, that wounds can heal.
For you, I’d kneel, I’d beg, I’d pray,
To see your smile, to hear you stay.

For I am nothing without your light,
Your trust, my only guiding sight.
I’d kneel forever, if that’s what’s due,
For all my love belongs to you.

As Lena read the final stanza, her hands trembled, and she pressed the book to her chest as if it were Kara herself.

She imagined Kara, proud and unyielding, brought to her knees in the face of love, not power. The words painted a picture of devotion so gentle, so absolute, that it left Lena’s heart in chaos.

And yet, even as the tears streamed down her face, her mind rebelled. “It’s just words,” she whispered to the darkness. “Just… words.”

But she knew, deep down, that wasn’t true. Kara had never been able to lie to her, not in this way. Each poem was another piece of her soul, laid bare and waiting for Lena to decide what to do with it.

I’d Worship You

If kneeling isn’t enough to show,
The depth of love you’ll never know,
Then let me lower myself again,
To worship you, my love, my sin.

I’d kiss the ground beneath your feet,
Each step you take, a holy beat.
The floor that knows the weight you bear,
I’d trace with lips, with tender care.

I’d press my mouth to every place
Your shadow graced with quiet grace.
The cold, the dust, I’d taste it all,
If it meant you'd let my pride fall.

If begging leaves you unmoved, unchanged,
If trust feels broken, rearranged,
Then let me show in ways so small,
I’d lose myself to give you all.

The ground between us, where I lay,
A chasm deep, but I’d obey.
I’d kiss each inch, I’d bow so low,
Until you see, until you know.

Your hands, your heart, your trust denied,
I’d break myself to be your guide.
I’d kiss the earth where you have been,
To show you love that’s free of sin.

My hands would ache, my knees would bruise,
Yet still, for you, I’d always choose.
For every kiss, each whispered plea,
Would mean I’m closer to setting you free.

Free to trust, free to feel,
Free to believe that my love is real.
So I’ll worship, Lena, in your name,
To hold your hand, to share your flame.

And when at last, you turn to me,
If mercy graces what you see,
I’d rise, not whole, but fully yours,
Healed by the trust my love restores.

Lena’s grip on the book tightened as her chest heaved, her tears now spilling freely, soaking into the worn pages. The image Kara painted was unbearable—so vivid, so raw, so utterly devoted.

She imagined it clearly: Kara, on the ground, her golden hair falling into her eyes, her lips brushing the cold, hard floor with reverence, each motion a plea for forgiveness.

Lena’s heart screamed at her to stop reading, to throw the book aside and shut out the words that threatened to undo her. But her hands betrayed her, turning the page, desperate for more. She felt like she was drowning, each poem another wave pulling her under, and she didn’t know if she wanted to come up for air.

And there, waiting for her on the next page, was yet another confession.

I’d Burn for You

If kneeling fails, if worship fades,
If trust won’t bloom where love once stayed,
Then let me burn, from skin to soul,
To prove my heart is yours, my goal.

I’d set myself alight for you,
A phoenix in your skies of blue.
I’d let the flames consume my name,
Until all that’s left is your claim.

I’d burn away the lies I’ve told,
The truths I hid, the secrets cold.
Ashes rising in the air,
Each ember whispering how I care.

Your gaze, your silence—sharp as glass,
But I’d still beg as the moments pass.
Let me be the moth to your flame,
Scorched and broken, still calling your name.

I’d stand in fire, I’d bear the pain,
To wash away the guilt, the stain.
Each scar I’d wear, a story of you,
Proof of the love you never knew.

If I must die to earn your trust,
Then let me crumble into dust.
I’d scatter on the wind’s soft cry,
Forever yours, even as I die.

And when you rise, with no regret,
With eyes that glow, though tears have wet,
I’ll be the warmth beneath your feet,
The gentle heat, where love can meet.

I’d burn for you, my only sin,
To be reborn where you begin.
For love that’s true, no pain too great,
I’d burn for you. I’d burn, I’d wait.

Lena’s breath caught, her pulse pounding in her ears. She couldn’t stop. Each poem unraveled a piece of the cold armor she had carefully constructed around her heart. She tried to deny it, to shove down the emotions rising in her throat, but the words wouldn’t let her.

She imagined Kara again—not just kneeling now, but standing in flames, eyes full of sorrow and devotion, her voice raw as she begged Lena to let her stay. It was unbearable, and yet she kept reading. The words felt like they were reaching out to her, tugging her into Kara’s pain, Kara’s love, Kara’s endless yearning.

And there was more. Of course, there was more. The next poem’s title leapt out at her like a whisper in the dark:

“I’d Break for You.”

Her hands trembled as she turned the page, unable to resist.

I’d Break for You

If burning isn’t enough to mend,
If ashes fall, but trust won’t blend,
Then let me shatter, piece by piece,
To prove that love can bring release.

I’d break my heart against the wall,
Let every fragment heed your call.
Each crack, each splinter, a sign of care,
A testament to love laid bare.

I’d splinter into shards so fine,
If it means your heart would intertwine
With the shattered remnants of my soul,
To build a bridge, to make us whole.

With every break, a lesson learned,
With every loss, a fire burned.
I’d scatter these pieces at your feet,
A fragile path where we could meet.

For love that’s pure can tear apart,
Can splinter even the hardest heart.
And in the wreckage, beauty grows,
In shattered dreams, the love still flows.

If breaking means you’ll see my truth,
If pain can lead us back to youth,
Then let me fall, let me collapse,
To catch the echoes of your laughs.

I’d break for you, my solemn vow,
With every crack, I’d learn somehow
That love can hurt, that love can heal,
A paradox that feels so real.

And if you dare to take my hand,
To rise together, make a stand,
Then I’d rebuild with love’s embrace,
And find the strength in your sweet grace.

So let me break, let down these walls,
Let every piece, my heart, enthrall.
I’d break for you, each piece a part,
To show the world, you own my heart.

Lena felt the words seep into her bones, each line pulling her deeper into Kara’s despair and longing. The thought of Kara shattering herself for her, of laying bare her soul in this vulnerable way, was intoxicating and painful. It felt almost sacrilegious to witness such rawness, yet she was powerless to stop.

Kara had always been the strong one, the one who faced the world without flinching. Yet here she was, revealing her fragility in ways that left Lena reeling.

The quiet of her room was thick with emotion, the moonlight spilling through the curtains as Lena turned the pages, desperate for more, unable to break the spell these words had woven around her.

The next poem’s title caught her eye, and it felt like a breath of fresh air amidst the turmoil: “I’d Rise for You.”

As she read, she felt the very air shift around her, charged with the promise of something new, something hopeful.

I’d Rise for You

If breaking leads to ashes, dust,
If all that’s left is barely trust,
Then let me rise, from all that’s lost,
To show you love is worth the cost.

I’d lift my head, from sorrow’s grasp,
Embrace the light within your clasp.
With every stumble, every fall,
I’d rise again, for you, my all.

Through the darkness, I’ll find my way,
With you beside me, come what may.
Each scar a mark, each bruise a sign,
Of battles fought, our hearts entwined.

And if the world should try to break,
If shadows creep, if fears awake,
I’d stand before you, strong and true,
A shield of love, I’d fight for you.

For in the chaos, love survives,
In every tear, the heart revives.
So let me rise, with you, I’ll soar,
Together facing evermore.

With every challenge, I’ll embrace,
Each moment shared, each sweet embrace.
For love is fierce, love knows no bounds,
And in your arms, my strength is found.

So let me rise, let’s face the dawn,
With every step, our love reborn.
I’d rise for you, in sun and rain,
To hold you close, to share the pain.

In every moment, every sigh,
I’d rise for you, until I die.
For you, my heart, my guiding star,
I’d rise and rise, no matter how far.

Lena clutched the book to her chest, breathless. The intensity of Kara’s words was overwhelming, the emotions crashing over her like waves. She could almost hear Kara’s voice in her mind, soft and earnest, begging her to believe, to understand.

With each poem, she felt her defenses crumbling, the walls she had built between them beginning to crack. Kara’s unwavering devotion, laid out in verse, was a bittersweet reminder of what they had lost—and what they could still reclaim.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she continued to read, turning page after page, yearning to uncover more of Kara’s heart, more of the love she had thought was buried.

In the stillness of the night, with the moon casting gentle shadows, Lena found herself longing for the warmth of Kara’s presence, for the touch that had once felt like home. Each poem was a step back, a slow unraveling of the knots in her heart.

And yet, there was still a battle to be fought. As she read the last line of the final poem, she felt the weight of their history, the anger, the betrayal, but also the flicker of hope that perhaps, just perhaps, they could find their way back to each other.

“I’d rise for you,” Lena whispered into the night, the words a promise that echoed in the silence, resonating deep within her heart.

Lena sat on her bed, the book resting on her lap, her fingers running absentmindedly over the cover. She had read every poem at least five times, each word etching itself into her bones. The emotions tangled inside her—anger, sadness, longing. The vulnerability in Kara’s words was suffocating, and yet, she craved more. She had spent the night before drowning in those verses, feeling every plea, every desperate confession.

She couldn't take it anymore.

Without hesitation, she picked up her phone and called Kara.

The line rang once. Twice. Three times.

Then, a breathless, hesitant voice answered. “Lena?”

There was a pause, heavy and charged, before Lena spoke. “Come over. Now.”

Kara’s heart nearly stopped. “Wh—what?”

“Come here. Immediately.”

There was no room for argument, no space for delay.

Kara had never flown to Lena’s faster.

When Kara landed on the balcony, her hands were shaking. The pit in her stomach deepened as she saw Lena standing there, backlit by the dim glow of her bedroom lamp.

Then her eyes dropped to the book in Lena’s hands.

Kara’s heart slammed against her ribs.

She froze. “Lena—”

Lena raised a brow, stepping closer, holding up the book like it was evidence in a trial. “You look guilty.”

Kara swallowed hard. “I— I don’t—”

“Save it.” Lena’s voice was sharp, but not cruel. “Explain this. Now.”

Kara shifted on her feet, unable to meet Lena’s gaze. “Lena, you weren’t— you weren’t supposed to read that.”

Lena let out a sharp laugh, flipping the book open at random. “Oh, I got that impression.” She let her eyes skim over the pages, her voice mocking, yet lined with something more vulnerable. “Shall I read it aloud? Since you can’t seem to find your words?”

Kara’s breath hitched. “No.”

Lena smirked. “Then talk.”

Kara opened her mouth, then closed it. She felt exposed, stripped bare, every wall she had left crumbling under Lena’s unwavering gaze.

She knew the poems by heart. Every single one. She had written them in sleepless nights, in moments where grief swallowed her whole, when she ached so badly for Lena’s love that she thought she might die from it.

And now, Lena knew.

And she wasn’t looking at her with anger anymore.

No, this was something else.

Something dangerous.

Something real.

Kara took a shaky breath. “Lena, please. Don’t—”

“Don’t what?” Lena challenged, tilting her head. “Don’t make you say it out loud? Don’t make you face the fact that you’re in love with me in a way that is terrifying and consuming and—” She took a step forward, her voice lowering, nearly a whisper. “—and that you would kneel for me, break for me, burn for me?”

Kara’s lips parted, but no words came out.

Lena flipped the book to one of the poems—"I’d Kneel for You."

She looked Kara dead in the eyes. “Tell me this is a lie.”

Kara’s entire body was trembling. “Lena…”

Lena’s voice softened. “Tell me you don’t mean every word, Kara.”

Kara exhaled shakily, her throat tight, her vision blurred. “I can’t.”

The confession cracked the air between them.

Lena nodded, as if she had known all along. She stepped closer, the book pressing against Kara’s chest. “Then tell me why.”

Kara’s hands hovered in the air like she wanted to take Lena’s but was too afraid to. Her voice broke when she spoke. “Because you hate me.”

Lena flinched. The words hit deeper than she expected.

Because once upon a time, maybe she had. Maybe she still wanted to.

But standing here, holding the weight of Kara’s love in her hands, it didn’t feel like hate. It felt like something so much heavier.

So much more dangerous.

Lena exhaled. “Say it.”

Kara blinked. “What?”

“Say it out loud.” Lena swallowed. “Say it to my face. Say what you wrote in these pages.”

Kara let out a shuddering breath, eyes darting between Lena’s lips and the book in her hands.

And then, finally—finally—she did.

Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I’d kneel for you, Lena.”

Lena’s breath hitched.

Kara took a step forward. “I’d kneel for you, I’d break for you, I’d burn for you. If it meant you’d trust me again, I’d surrender myself to you completely.”

Lena’s fingers curled around the edges of the book, gripping it like it was the only thing holding her together.

Kara swallowed hard. “And if you asked, I’d start now.”

Silence.

Heavy. Deafening.

The air between them was thick, charged with something neither of them could name—too heavy to be just longing, too raw to be just pain.

Lena’s grip on the book tightened before she let it fall, the sound of it hitting the floor louder than it should have been. She tilted her chin up, studying Kara’s face, the way her chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. The way her lips parted, trembling, waiting—always waiting.

Kara looked wrecked, standing there in her suit, the symbol on her chest gleaming under the dim lights of the penthouse. But Lena wasn’t speaking to Supergirl. She never had been.

She wanted her.

The girl who had lied to her. The girl who had loved her too much.

The girl who wrote her a book full of desperate, aching confessions.

Lena exhaled slowly, voice low, unwavering. “Go home, Kara.”

Kara’s stomach dropped.

Lena held her gaze. “Come back when you’re you.”

Kara swallowed, blue eyes wide, searching Lena’s face for an answer she wasn’t sure she would find.

Lena didn’t blink. Didn’t waver.

No cape. No suit. No mask.

Just Kara.

Kara let out a breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob. She nodded once—sharp, jerky—before stepping back.

And then she turned and flew.

Lena stood still, staring at the open sky where Kara had disappeared, heart thudding so loudly it drowned out the silence.

She had just handed Kara her final test.

And she had no idea if Kara would pass.

Lena didn’t move for a long time.

She stood in the middle of her bedroom, staring at the book on the floor, its pages still open, the weight of Kara’s words pressing into her chest like an iron brand.

She had told Kara to come back as herself. Not as Supergirl. Not as the hero who had saved the world a thousand times.

Just as Kara Danvers.

And yet—she didn’t know if she had the strength to face her when she did.

The clock on the wall ticked. Minutes stretched into hours.

Lena tried to work, tried to focus, but it was useless. She had already memorized every poem in that book.

Every word Kara had bled onto those pages lived inside her now.

She tried not to imagine Kara kneeling. Kissing the ground she walked on. Surrendering—not just out of guilt, but out of love.

It was maddening.

Then, at 3:07 AM, the intercom buzzed.

Lena’s breath caught.

She didn’t hesitate. She pressed the button. “Come up.”

A few seconds later, there was a knock.

Lena took a steadying breath before opening the door.

And there she was.

No suit. No cape.

Just Kara.

She was standing in the hallway in jeans and a soft sweater, her hair still a little messy, like she had run her hands through it too many times. Her eyes were wide, uncertain, full of something Lena wasn’t ready to name.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Kara let out a shaky breath. “I came back.”

Lena studied her, the way she fidgeted, the way her fingers curled into the hem of her sweater like she was holding herself together by a thread.

Finally, Lena stepped aside.

“Come in.”

Kara obeyed.

She moved slowly, carefully, as if afraid she might break something just by breathing too hard. She stopped in the middle of the room, looking at the book still lying open on the floor.

Her face flushed.

She swallowed thickly. “Did you—”

“Read them all?” Lena’s voice was quiet. “Yes.”

Kara’s eyes darted to her. “Oh.”

Lena’s lips pressed together. “You never planned for me to see it.”

Kara shook her head. “Never.”

Silence.

Kara’s hands trembled at her sides. She looked away, voice barely above a whisper.

“But I meant every word.”

Lena closed her eyes for half a second, swallowing down the way those words wrapped around her ribs, the way they clung to every fractured part of her.

When she opened them, Kara was already looking at her.

Raw. Open.

Like she would kneel right then and there if Lena told her to.

Lena took a breath.

And then, quietly—achingly—

“Show me.”

Kara was trembling.

Still standing, still holding herself together by a thread, but Lena could see it—how close she was to breaking.

Lena took a slow step forward, closing the space between them. She didn’t touch Kara, didn’t reach for her, but the air shifted.

Her presence was enough.

Kara’s breath hitched, hands clenching at her sides. “Lena, please…”

Lena tilted her head, eyes sharp, piercing. “Please what, Kara?”

Kara shook her head. “Don’t make me do this.”

Lena let out a quiet breath, more exhale than laughter. “Make you?” She arched a brow. “I don’t think I have to.”

Kara flinched like she had been struck.

Lena’s voice was gentle, but the weight behind it was devastating. “You already want to.”

Kara closed her eyes. “Lena—”

Lena cut her off, stepping even closer, forcing Kara to look at her.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” she said, voice almost thoughtful. “To show your own feelings?”

Kara’s eyes flew open, wide, wounded.

Lena smiled, but it wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t mocking. It was knowing.

“You carry the weight of the world, but you don’t carry yourself, do you?” Lena murmured. “You bow to everyone. You kneel for humanity. You break yourself apart so everyone else can stay whole.”

She reached out, and this time, she did touch.

Two fingers under Kara’s chin, tilting her face up.

Kara’s lips trembled. “Lena…”

Lena studied her, gaze unreadable. “So why not kneel for me, too?”

Kara let out a choked sound, somewhere between a sob and a breath.

Lena’s fingers left her chin, trailing down her throat, pressing lightly at the base of her neck.

Soft. Testing.

“Go on,” Lena whispered.

Kara’s legs wobbled. She gritted her teeth, shaking her head. “You don’t— You don’t need to do this.”

Lena hummed. “Don’t I?”

She tilted her head again, watching Kara unravel.

And then—

“I read your book, Kara.”

Kara gasped.

Lena’s eyes darkened. “Every single word.”

She leaned in, lips just inches away. “Tell me… were they lies?”

Kara swallowed thickly. “No.”

Lena’s hand trailed lower, pressing flat against Kara’s chest, just above her heart.

It was racing.

“Then show me,” Lena said simply.

Kara’s knees buckled.

And this time—

She let them.

Kara was already on the ground, her forehead grazing the floor, her lips brushing against the wood.

But now—

Now Lena was speaking.

Reading her words back to her.

Her voice was steady, smooth, and utterly merciless.

"I’d shatter myself, if it meant you’d trust me again."

Kara flinched.

"I’d unmake myself, if it would bring you peace."

A sharp, choked whimper caught in Kara’s throat. “Lena—”

Lena cut her off, her voice cool as glass.

"I would kiss the ground you walk on, Lena."

Kara squeezed her eyes shut. “Please, stop—”

Lena hummed, almost amused. “Why?”

Kara’s whole body trembled. “Because it’s humiliating.”

Lena tilted her head. “And yet… you wrote it.”

Kara bit her lip hard.

Lena stepped forward, until the toe of her shoe barely brushed against Kara’s fingers where they trembled against the floor.

Her voice dipped, soft and devastating.

"I would worship you, if you’d let me."

Kara made a broken sound, hands curling into fists.

Lena sighed, feigning thoughtfulness. “I wonder… did you mean it?”

Kara gasped as Lena lifted her foot just slightly—just enough to brush against her knuckles.

“You wrote it, Kara. Said you’d do it.” Lena’s voice was gentle, coaxing. “So why don’t you prove it?”

Kara’s breath was ragged. “Lena, please—”

Lena just watched. Waiting. Expecting.

Kara swallowed hard, throat tight.

And then—

She did it.

Slowly. Trembling.

She dipped lower, lips ghosting over the tip of Lena’s shoe.

A single, soft kiss.

Lena inhaled.

Kara shuddered.

Lena’s voice was a whisper.

"I would be nothing but hands reaching for you."

Kara’s whole body tensed.

Then, without a word, she pressed another kiss to the top of Lena’s foot.

Lena exhaled, something shifting in the air between them.

But Kara—Kara was breaking.

Her voice was barely more than a whimper.

“Please,” she whispered. “Let me stop.”

Lena studied her, silent.

And then, just as softly—

“No.”

Kara let out a shattered breath, eyes damp, lips trembling.

And she kissed her again.

Kara’s lips trembled against the top of Lena’s foot.

Soft. Pressed. Reverent.

Her hands stayed curled on the floor, holding herself steady, but she was shaking.

Lena looked down at her, expression unreadable.

Kara had kissed her once.

Twice.

A third time.

But Lena wanted more.

She sighed, tapping the book lightly in her palm, pretending to be deep in thought.

Her voice, when she finally spoke, was velvet and ice.

“You wrote that you’d beg for me.”

Kara froze.

Lena’s lips twitched in something almost like amusement. “So do it.”

Kara’s breath hitched. “Lena, please—”

Lena arched a brow. “That’s not begging, Kara.”

Kara shook her head, body tensing. “I— I didn’t mean for you to—”

Lena hummed. “Then why did you write it?”

Kara squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t know.”

Lena reached out, gripping Kara’s chin between two fingers, tilting her face up.

Kara gasped.

Lena studied her, eyes dark, something unreadable behind them. “You do know.”

Kara’s lashes fluttered, lips parting.

Lena’s fingers traced over her cheek. “So beg.”

Kara shuddered.

Her body fought against itself. Her mind screamed for her to pull away.

But she didn’t.

She couldn’t.

Lena was a force.

A quiet, unshakable storm.

And Kara—Kara had always been at her mercy.

She swallowed hard, breath shallow. “Lena, please don’t make me do this.”

Lena tilted her head. “But I am, aren’t I?”

Kara whimpered.

Lena’s grip tightened just slightly before she let go.

Kara’s head dipped forward, falling back into place, eyes cast to the floor.

She was breathing hard, shivering, her entire body trembling with restraint.

And then—

“Please,” she whispered.

Lena inhaled.

Kara’s voice cracked, breaking open.

“Please, Lena.”

Lena waited.

Kara exhaled a shaking breath.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

Lena’s expression didn’t change.

Kara licked her lips, throat tightening.

“I’ll do anything,” she rasped. “Just— Just tell me what you want.”

Lena leaned down, voice a breath against Kara’s skin.

“I want you to keep going.”

Kara sobbed.

Lena didn’t waver.

And Kara—

Kara kissed her feet again.

Kara pressed her lips to Lena’s foot again, each kiss a fragile thread tethering her to the ground.

But with each gentle touch, a storm of desperation twisted in her chest.

She inhaled shakily, body quaking under the weight of Lena’s gaze.

“Lena, please… just let me stop,” she whispered, voice cracking.

Lena remained silent, a statue of power.

Kara’s heart raced, every beat echoing the fear that had become her constant companion.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she continued, tears pooling in her eyes. “I’m begging you. Please.”

Lena’s brow furrowed ever so slightly. “What did you write, Kara?”

Kara’s breath hitched, voice trembling. “I— I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do,” Lena urged, her tone unyielding. “Say it.”

Kara’s chest tightened, the words clawing at her throat. “I… I’m in love with you.”

Lena’s expression softened, just a fraction. “Again.”

Kara shook her head, the warmth of shame flooding her. “No, please… don’t make me.”

Lena leaned closer, the warmth of her body washing over Kara. “You need to repeat it. You need to say it like you mean it.”

Kara bit her lip, holding back a whimper. “I… I can’t.”

“Then keep kissing my feet,” Lena instructed, a challenge lacing her voice.

Kara hesitated, torn between her longing to obey and the ache of her heart.

But Lena’s eyes burned with determination, unyielding.

With a shuddering breath, Kara leaned down again, lips brushing over the cool leather.

Another kiss.

“Please…” she whispered, voice heavy with longing. “Just let me stop.”

But Lena wouldn’t budge.

“Not until you say it again.”

Kara’s heart ached, the familiar weight of despair settling in. “I’m in love with you,” she finally confessed, the words slipping from her lips like a desperate prayer.

Lena’s gaze sharpened, a flicker of something fierce igniting in her eyes. “Louder.”

Kara choked, breath hitching. “I’m in love with you.”

“Again.”

A sob broke free from Kara’s throat. “I’m in love with you, Lena! I love you!”

Lena’s lips curved ever so slightly, but her voice remained firm. “Then keep kissing. Show me you mean it.”

Kara was lost, drowning in the tide of her own feelings, each kiss more desperate than the last.

“Please…” she whimpered between kisses. “Please let me stop.”

But Lena was unyielding.

Each plea, each desperate whisper only seemed to strengthen Lena’s resolve.

And Kara found herself surrendering, head spinning, heart breaking—lost in the worship of the woman she loved.

She kissed Lena’s feet, again and again, whispering her confessions against the floor.

“I’m in love with you. I’m in love with you.”

And still, it wasn’t enough.

Lena stood over Kara, watching her kneel and kiss the floor she walked upon. Her heart ached, but she refused to let herself show it.

She wouldn’t let Kara stop. Not yet.

Not until she took everything.

She loved Kara. Oh, God, she loved her so much. But how could she forgive? How could she forget the lies, the betrayal?

Kara’s lips trembled as they pressed against the floor, and Lena could see the tears in her eyes, the desperation she was trying so hard to hide.

Kara whispered it again. “Please, Lena… let me stop. Please, I can’t take it anymore…”

Lena swallowed hard, her throat thick with unshed tears. She looked down at Kara, seeing the raw pain in her face. It tore at her, made her chest tighten in ways she couldn’t explain. But she couldn’t let go, not yet.

She stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t get to stop until I know you’ve taken every part of yourself—until I know you truly understand.”

Kara’s body shuddered, and her breath hitched. “Lena…”

But Lena didn’t soften. She couldn’t. Not yet.

“I need you to take it all,” Lena said, her voice trembling. “I need you to feel how much I hurt too. How much this all hurts. You’ve hurt me, Kara. And God, I hate that I love you for it. But I do. I hate it.”

Kara looked up at Lena, her eyes wide, filled with a mixture of fear and sorrow. “Lena… I never wanted to hurt you… please… please understand.”

Lena shook her head, tears finally slipping from her eyes. She wiped them away quickly, but they just kept falling.

She couldn’t control it anymore.

“I know you didn’t want to hurt me, Kara,” Lena whispered, her voice breaking. “But you did. And I don’t know if I can ever forgive you. But I need to hear you say it again. I need to hear you beg for me. For me to feel you, for you to prove that you understand what you’ve done to me.”

Kara’s chest heaved as she reached forward, kissing Lena’s feet again, this time with more force, desperation bleeding through her every movement.

“I’m sorry,” Kara whispered, her voice thick with tears. “I’m so sorry, Lena… I love you. I’m in love with you. Please… don’t make me beg more.”

Lena’s hands shook as she ran them through her hair, trying to stop the tidal wave of emotions crashing over her. “But I need you to beg more, Kara. I need you to beg until you can’t speak anymore. Until you can’t breathe without me.”

Kara whimpered, her lips trembling as they brushed over Lena’s skin once more. She kissed the floor again and again, each kiss a desperate plea.

“I love you,” Kara whispered over and over, the words falling from her lips in broken fragments. “I love you. I need you. Please, please let me stop. Let me stop, Lena. I’ll do anything for you… I just want you to let me stop.”

But Lena—Lena wouldn’t let her stop.

Not yet.

Kara felt her heart breaking all over again, but she knew Lena’s heart was shattering too. That’s why Lena couldn’t let her stop. Because if she did, it meant admitting that everything they’d been through—everything they’d survived—had never really been about what they thought it was.

And it would take time.

But maybe—just maybe—they could find their way back to each other.

Kara knelt on the floor, heart racing as she gazed up at Lena, a mixture of desperation and longing swirling within her.

“Stop, please,” she whispered, but the plea felt weak compared to the fire in her chest.

“Stay on your knees,” Lena commanded softly, her voice steady and firm. “Close your eyes.”

Kara obeyed, surrendering to the moment, the anticipation hanging in the air like a thick fog.

Lena leaned closer, her breath warm against Kara’s skin as she pressed a kiss to Kara's cheek. Each touch ignited a spark, and Kara shivered, aching for more.

Lena continued her exploration, kissing Kara’s nose, her forehead, each soft contact drawing Kara deeper into a haze of longing.

“Lena…” Kara breathed, feeling her heart pounding against her ribs, wishing for the contact she craved. “Please… kiss me.”

A smile danced across Lena's lips, her confidence growing with each passing moment. “Where’s the fun in that, sweetheart?”

Kara’s heart raced with frustration and desire. “Please, just kiss me!” she begged, her voice trembling with urgency.

Lena leaned back slightly, the playful glint in her eyes revealing the challenge. “Not good enough. I want you to plead for it.”

Kara felt a wave of heat rush to her cheeks, vulnerability washing over her. “I can’t…” she whispered, knowing she had to push past her pride.

“Yes, you can,” Lena teased, leaning closer again, her lips hovering just inches from Kara’s. “Beg for it, Kara. Show me how much you need my lips on yours.”

Kara felt tears prick at her eyes, the yearning intensifying. “Lena, please! I’ll do anything! I love you… I just want your lips on mine. Please, let me have that.”

Lena leaned closer, her breath mingling with Kara’s, igniting the tension that crackled between them. “Almost there… but I need to hear you say it again.”

Kara’s heart raced as she whispered, “I’m begging you, Lena. I want your lips. I want you. Please… just kiss me.”

A smile broke through Lena’s tears, playful yet filled with longing. “There it is. But I still want more. I need to hear how much you want it.”

“Please, Lena!” Kara cried, desperation lacing her voice. “I’ll do anything for your lips! I’m begging you… please don’t make me wait any longer.”

The air around them thickened, charged with their emotions as Lena held her ground, her confidence unyielding. “Keep going. I want to hear you plead for it, truly plead.”

Tears streamed down Kara’s cheeks, her heart aching with the weight of her desire. “Please… I’m begging you, Lena. I want your kiss! I need to feel your lips against mine. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

“Almost there,” Lena murmured, her heart racing in response to Kara’s raw vulnerability. “But I want you to say it like you mean it. I want to feel your devotion in every word.”

Kara felt a rush of warmth as she clung to the moment, the heat of her longing spilling over. “I love you, Lena! I’m begging you! Kiss me, please! I need to feel you now more than ever!”

Lena leaned in closer, tantalizingly near yet still holding back. “Say it again, Kara. Tell me how much you want me.”

“Please, Lena! I need your kiss! I’m begging you!” Kara cried, feeling as if her heart might burst from her chest.

Lena smiled, her playful demeanor shining through the tears. “Now that’s what I wanted to hear, but I need you to beg more.”

Kara felt her pride slipping away, the only thing that mattered was Lena. “I need you, Lena! I’m begging you. I love you, and I need your kiss. Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

Lena leaned closer, her breath mingling with Kara's, igniting the tension that crackled between them. “You’re so close, but I want to hear you really beg for it, with everything you have.”

Kara’s heart raced as she whispered, “Lena, please! I love you! I’ll do anything—just kiss me!”

With each word, Kara felt her heart spilling open, raw and vulnerable, the desperation in her voice quiet yet intense.

“Please, Lena,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. “I can’t take this anymore. Just kiss me… please. I’ll drop to my knees and worship you if that’s what it takes. I need your lips.”

Lena’s gaze softened, her heart aching at Kara’s surrender. “You have to show me, Kara. Prove how much you want this.”

Kara’s breath hitched, and she whispered, “I’m begging you, Lena. Please… I need you. I’ll stay here on my knees, just kiss me. I love you so much.”

But Lena’s playful demeanor remained. “You’re almost there, sweetheart. Keep going.”

Tears streamed down Kara’s cheeks, and she whispered through her sobs, “Lena, please… I love you. I’m begging you… kiss me now, please. I need it more than anything.”

Kara’s voice trembled, each word a desperate confession, laying her heart bare. “I can’t wait any longer… I need to feel your lips. I need to know you still love me.”

Finally, Lena leaned in, her lips brushing against Kara’s, igniting the air between them.

“Tell me again how much you want me, Kara,” she whispered softly, the challenge lingering in the air.

Kara looked into Lena’s eyes, the longing consuming her. “I love you, Lena. I’m begging you… just kiss me. Please.”

Lena’s heart swelled, a mix of longing and resolve. “Then stay on your knees, love. Keep begging for it.”

As the tension between them hung in the air, the quiet desperation in Kara’s voice felt like a balm for Lena’s aching heart.

“Please, Lena… kiss me.”

And in that moment, with tears shimmering in her eyes, Kara surrendered completely, knowing that love was worth every desperate plea.

“Now, put your hands behind your back and keep your eyes closed,” Lena instructed, her voice a sultry command that made Kara’s heart race.

Kara complied, her breath hitching in her throat as she felt the anticipation coil within her. The air around them was thick with longing, her heart pounding wildly as she surrendered to Lena’s demands.

With her hands clasped behind her, she felt a rush of vulnerability wash over her, a feeling both terrifying and exhilarating. Lena moved closer, and the heat of her presence enveloped Kara like a warm embrace.

Lena leaned in, her lips barely grazing Kara’s, sending shivers down her spine. The initial contact was soft, tender—like a whisper in the night. But as Lena deepened the kiss, it transformed into something more fervent, more desperate.

Kara gasped softly, feeling the warmth of Lena’s lips ignite a fire within her. She surrendered to the sensations, melting into the kiss, the world around them fading into a distant hum.

Lena pulled back slightly, just enough to breathe, her eyes dark with longing as she searched Kara’s face. “You taste like everything I’ve ever wanted,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

Kara’s heart soared, every word wrapping around her like a silken thread. “Lena…” she breathed, but Lena silenced her with another kiss, this one urgent, filled with a raw need that made Kara’s head spin.

The kiss deepened, their lips moving together in a dance of longing and desperation. Kara felt herself unraveling, the weight of their unspoken feelings crashing over her like a tidal wave.

As Lena’s fingers tangled in Kara’s hair, pulling her closer, Kara leaned into the touch, every nerve ending alight with desire. The kiss was slow, almost agonizingly so, but with each passing second, it became more fervent, more desperate—a collision of hearts that had yearned for each other for far too long.

Kara felt her heart race, her breath coming in soft gasps as Lena’s kiss ignited something deep within her. “I’ve missed you,” Kara whispered against Lena’s lips, her voice trembling with emotion.

Lena responded with a gentle sigh, her kisses trailing down to Kara’s jaw, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. “I’ve missed you too,” she confessed, her breath warm against Kara’s skin.

With every kiss, every gentle caress, Lena poured out her longing, her pain, and her love. She needed Kara to understand just how deeply she had been affected, how much Kara’s absence had carved a hollow space in her heart.

The kiss turned desperate, their mouths moving together with an urgency that made Kara’s heart race. She felt the tears of relief welling up in her eyes, a rush of emotions flooding over her as she clung to Lena, grounding herself in the warmth of their connection.

Lena’s hands roamed, exploring the contours of Kara’s back, each touch igniting sparks of electricity between them. Kara’s breath hitched, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all.

“Please,” Kara murmured, the word a plea that hung in the air, filled with every unspoken desire, every hidden fear.

“Please what?” Lena whispered, her lips brushing against Kara’s, teasing and tantalizing.

Kara could barely find her voice, the longing consuming her. “Please don’t stop. I need this… I need you.”

With a soft growl of desire, Lena pressed closer, her lips finding Kara’s again with a feverish hunger. This time, the kiss felt like a promise—a vow of devotion that they both desperately craved.

As the kiss deepened, Lena’s fingers tangled in Kara’s hair, pulling her even closer as if to meld their souls together. It was slow and sweet, yet tinged with a sense of urgency that made Kara ache for more.

Time slipped away as they lost themselves in the kiss, the world around them fading into nothingness. The connection between them felt electric, igniting every part of Kara’s being as she surrendered completely to Lena.

Finally, they pulled away, breathless and wide-eyed, the silence around them charged with unspoken words. Lena searched Kara’s gaze, her own eyes reflecting a storm of emotions—love, fear, and an undeniable desire for more.

“Now,” Lena whispered, her voice soft yet commanding, “never doubt what you mean to me.”

Kara nodded, her heart swelling as she reached up to cup Lena’s face, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen. “I love you, Lena. I always have.”

Kara remained on her knees, her lips still tingling, her breath uneven. Lena had told her not to move, and so she didn’t—her hands still clasped behind her back, her body aching with restraint.

Lena, standing above her, wiped at her tear-streaked face. She had tasted Kara’s devotion in that kiss, had felt the trembling desperation in the way Kara surrendered to her touch. And yet, it wasn’t enough. It couldn’t be.

Kara had broken her.

She had shattered her trust, lied to her, left her alone in the wreckage of betrayal, and now—now Kara wanted to kneel at her feet and expect forgiveness?

Lena swallowed hard, her fingers trembling as they reached out, ghosting over Kara’s cheek before she pulled back. No, not yet.

"Say it again," Lena demanded, voice quieter this time, but no less firm.

Kara's head tilted up, confusion flickering in those impossibly blue eyes. "Say… what?"

Lena’s lips parted, but her voice almost cracked on the words. "That you love me."

Kara’s breath hitched.

“I love you,” she whispered immediately, like prayer, like instinct. “I love you, Lena. I love you more than anything. I—”

“No,” Lena cut in, shaking her head. “Not like that.”

She took a step forward, her foot brushing against Kara’s knee. “Say it like you did in your poems. Say it like it’s a promise. Like it’s the only truth in the world.”

Kara closed her eyes, shuddering as she inhaled deeply. She had never felt this exposed before, never been laid so bare. But wasn’t this what she had wanted? To surrender? To let Lena take all of her, no matter the cost?

When Kara spoke again, her voice was slow, reverent.

“I love you.
I would burn for you, break for you, kneel for you, beg for you.
I would shatter every bone in my body if it meant you would trust me again.
I would fall a thousand times, drown in every sorrow you give me, just to be near you.
I would die for you, Lena.”

A sob tore from Lena’s throat before she could stop it.

She turned away, pressing a hand to her mouth, trying to steady herself, but the weight of Kara’s words crashed over her like a tidal wave.

This—this was everything.

It was too much. And yet, it wasn’t enough.

Kara had always had a way with words, but God, this time she had gutted her with them.

She turned back to Kara, still kneeling, still waiting, still willing to let Lena do whatever she wanted with her.

"You lied to me," Lena finally said, voice raw, desperate. "And now you think this is enough?"

Kara's eyes shone with unshed tears. "Nothing will ever be enough," she admitted, voice breaking. "But I will give you everything I have, until the end of time, if you let me."

Lena let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, her hands fisting at her sides.

Everything inside her screamed that this wasn't fair. That Kara shouldn't get to kneel and whisper devotion and make her feel this weak.

But God help her, she didn’t want to let go.

She knelt down, slowly, her knees touching the floor. Kara stiffened, her breath catching as Lena reached out and took her face in her hands.

Lena's thumbs brushed over Kara’s trembling lips, over the silent pleas written in the way Kara looked at her. So much love. So much pain. So much desperation.

"I hate you," Lena whispered, but it came out as a sob.

Kara let out a shuddering breath, nodding. "I know."

"I hate how much I love you," Lena said next, her voice breaking entirely, and this time, Kara did sob.

"I know," Kara whispered, tilting her head into Lena’s touch, eyes slipping shut.

For a long moment, they just breathed, their foreheads almost touching, the weight of their love sitting heavy between them.

And then, finally, finally, Lena kissed her again.

This time, it was soft. Gentle. A promise.

Because despite everything—despite the lies, the pain, the betrayal—Kara had always been hers.

Lena pulled back suddenly, her breath uneven, her hands shaking where they still cradled Kara’s face.

No.

No, this wasn’t supposed to happen.

She was supposed to be angry. She was supposed to make Kara suffer like she had suffered, to take her apologies and her devotion and tear them apart piece by piece.

But Kara—her Kara—looked at her with those heartbreakingly blue eyes, so full of sorrow and love, so full of her.

And Lena knew.

She couldn’t do it.

She couldn’t hate her.

She had tried—God, she had tried.

She had held onto her anger, her resentment, her heartbreak like a lifeline, convinced it would keep her from drowning.

But Kara…

Kara was the ocean.

And Lena had never stood a chance.

Kara swallowed, sensing the shift, sensing the way Lena’s grip on her was no longer punishing but something softer, something unbearably fragile.

"Lena?" she whispered, hesitant, afraid to break whatever moment they were trapped in.

Lena squeezed her eyes shut, trying—one last time—to find that hatred she had clung to for so long.

But there was nothing left.

Just Kara.

Just the only person who had ever truly loved her.

Just the only person Lena had ever truly loved.

She exhaled, slow and trembling, before finally opening her eyes again.

"I take it back," she whispered, voice raw.

Kara flinched, her whole body tensing. "W-what?"

Lena’s hands slid down to Kara’s shoulders, gripping them tightly.

"I take it back," she repeated, shaking her head. "The hate. The anger. All of it. I take it back."

Kara's lips parted, her breath catching, her expression a perfect portrait of disbelief.

"I thought I could hate you," Lena admitted, her voice breaking. "I really thought I could. But I can’t. I never could."

Her fingers tightened in Kara’s shirt, pulling her closer, their foreheads almost touching again.

"You are impossible to hate," Lena whispered, voice thick with emotion.

Kara let out a quiet, shuddering sound—something between a sob and a laugh, something full of so much love it hurt.

"Lena," she breathed, closing her eyes, as if she could barely handle hearing those words.

Lena pressed a soft kiss to Kara’s forehead, then her cheek, then—finally—her lips, slow and reverent, like she was memorizing the shape of her.

"I still don’t trust you," she murmured against Kara’s mouth.

Kara nodded, accepting it. "I know."

"But I still love you," Lena admitted, the confession slipping from her lips before she could stop it.

Kara made a sound like she was breaking, her hands lifting—finally, finally—to wrap around Lena, pulling her in, grounding her.

"I love you too," Kara whispered, pressing her face into Lena’s neck, breathing her in like she was air, like she was home.

Lena exhaled, burying her fingers in golden hair.

Kara was hers.

And Lena, despite everything, had never stopped being hers.

Kara held Lena as if she would vanish if she let go, her breath warm against Lena’s neck, her body trembling with emotion.

Lena pulled back slightly, just enough to see Kara’s face, to take in the way those ocean-blue eyes were brimming with love and something devastatingly unbreakable.

Kara exhaled shakily, her hands gripping Lena’s waist like she was afraid to lose her. And then, barely above a whisper, she said it—

“No matter what you do… if you keep working with Lex… if you push me away again… I won’t stop you.”

Lena's breath hitched.

Kara’s fingers tightened slightly.

“I won’t fight you, Lena. I never could. I was never able to hurt you. Ever.”

The words were said with such certainty, such painful truth, that Lena felt them settle deep in her chest like a wound that would never quite heal.

She wanted Kara to say she would fight, that she would stop her, save her.

But Kara had never been able to be cruel, not even to protect herself.

Especially not to protect herself from Lena.

Lena swallowed hard, trying to maintain some kind of distance, some kind of control, but Kara was still looking at her like she was everything.

Like she would love her even if it killed her.

And God—Lena didn’t deserve it.

"You should," Lena whispered, her voice barely steady. "You should stop me."

Kara just shook her head, her gaze unwavering.

“I won’t.”

Lena closed her eyes, inhaling sharply.

How was she supposed to survive this?

How was she supposed to keep pushing Kara away when Kara would never stop loving her?

Lena turned away sharply, trying to put space between them, trying to breathe past the ache in her chest.

Kara let her go. Of course, she did.

She always did.

She was always so gentle with Lena, even when Lena didn’t deserve it.

Even now, when she should be furious, when she should be demanding answers, when she should be fighting—she wasn’t.

Instead, she stood there, silent, waiting.

Always waiting.

Lena clenched her fists. "You should hate me," she forced out, her voice shaking.

Kara exhaled softly, almost like she was in pain. "I could never."

Lena let out a sharp, bitter laugh, but it cracked before it could become anything real.

"You should," Lena repeated, harsher this time. "You should be angry with me, Kara. I betrayed you. I—" She swallowed, shaking her head. "I hurt you. I worked with Lex. I lied. And you just—"

She turned back, eyes burning, desperate to see something—anything—on Kara’s face that wasn’t love.

But there it was.

Unshaken. Unbreakable.

Like Lena had never left.

Like she had never destroyed them.

Kara met her gaze, quiet and steady. "And if you did it all again?" she asked softly.

Lena sucked in a breath.

Kara took a slow step forward.

"If you turned your back on me again," she whispered, "if you worked with Lex again, if you pushed me away over and over and over again—"

She was standing right in front of Lena now, so close their breath mingled, so close Lena could feel the warmth of her, the devastating presence of her.

"I still wouldn't stop you," Kara murmured. "I still wouldn’t fight you."

Lena shook her head, not understanding, not wanting to understand. "Why?" she rasped.

Kara smiled then, sad and soft and so full of love it hurt.

"Because it's you," she whispered.

And just like that, Lena was ruined.

Her breath hitched, her chest tight, her hands shaking at her sides.

She wanted to shove Kara away, wanted to scream at her to stop, stop loving her, stop forgiving her, stop giving her a love she had never earned.

But Kara was still looking at her like she would die before she hurt Lena.

Like Lena was worth the heartbreak.

Lena let out a broken sound, barely a sob, barely anything at all.

Kara—God, Kara—immediately stepped closer, hands lifting as if to cup her face, to fix her.

But Lena jerked back.

"No," she whispered, voice thick. "Don’t."

Kara froze.

Lena swallowed hard, closing her eyes. "You can’t keep loving me like this," she said, forcing the words past the tightness in her throat.

Kara hesitated, and then, softly— "I don’t know how to stop."

Lena’s chest caved in.

She couldn’t do this.

She couldn’t keep pretending she didn’t love Kara just as much.

She couldn’t keep lying.

So she did the only thing she could.

She grabbed Kara’s shirt and pulled her in.

And then—finally, finally, finally— she kissed her.

Kara made a broken sound against Lena’s lips, something between a gasp and a whimper, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. Like she was afraid it would disappear the second she let herself feel it.

Lena felt it too—the hesitation, the disbelief, the aching desperation in the way Kara clung to her, in the way her hands

hovered just above Lena’s waist, trembling with restraint.

She had begged for this. Begged.

She had written it in ink, confessed it in poems she was never meant to read.

And now, when Lena was finally giving it to her, Kara didn’t know if she was allowed to take it.

Lena hated that.

So she grabbed Kara’s hands and placed them firmly on her body—here, take me, hold me, I am yours—and Kara broke.

She made a choked sound and kissed Lena harder, pulling her in, holding her close like she might disappear, like she always disappeared.

Lena let her.

Let her have this.

She had earned it.

God, she had always earned it.

Kara kissed her like she was something sacred, something she was terrified of hurting, but something she could never let go of.

And Lena—God, Lena melted.

She should have fought this.

She should have pushed Kara away.

She should have remembered all the reasons why she had sworn she would never let this happen.

But none of them mattered.

Not when Kara was kissing her like this.

Not when Kara was breathing her name like a prayer, like a promise, like an apology, like a plea.

Not when Lena had spent so long trying to convince herself she didn’t want this, when she knew—she knew—she had always wanted this.

More than anything.

More than her own pride.

More than her own vengeance.

More than the walls she had built to protect herself.

She pulled back, barely, just enough to look at Kara, to take in the way her lips were pink and kiss-swollen, the way her chest was rising and falling rapidly, the way her hands were still gripping Lena like she was terrified to let go.

"Say it," Lena whispered, voice shaking.

Kara swallowed hard, eyes flickering down to Lena’s lips, then back up to her gaze.

"Say what?" she asked, breathless.

Lena’s hands slid up Kara’s chest, over her shoulders, curling behind her neck.

"You know what," she said softly.

Kara’s breath hitched.

For a moment, she just looked at Lena—like she was everything.

Like she was still worth it.

And then, softly, Kara whispered—

"I love you."

Lena closed her eyes.

Let it sink in.

Let it wreck her.

And then, just as softly—

She whispered it back.

Lena sucked in a breath, sharp and uneven, but Kara just looked at her—soft, unwavering, aching.

"I think," Kara whispered, voice so gentle it nearly undid Lena, "that maybe you believe you’re unlovable."

Lena flinched.

She hated how easily Kara saw through her.

But Kara only tilted her head, looking at Lena like she was the most precious thing in the world. Like she had never once been anything less.

"But I love you, Lena," Kara murmured, her fingers brushing reverently over Lena’s cheek, her touch featherlight, like she was afraid Lena might run. "I have always loved you. I love you like it’s breathing. Like it’s—" Kara exhaled, shaking her head. "Like it’s not even a choice. Like it’s just what I am."

Lena felt something deep inside her fracture.

Because God, she wanted to believe that.

She wanted to believe she was lovable.

She wanted to believe that, despite everything, Kara could still want her.

But—

"But I don’t deserve you," Lena whispered, voice raw. "Not after everything. I—" She shook her head. "I don’t deserve the way you love me."

Kara gave a small, sad smile, her hands slipping down to cradle Lena’s face with unbearable tenderness.

"That’s not how love works," Kara said softly. "You don’t earn it, Lena. You don’t barter for it, or measure if you deserve it." She swallowed, pressing their foreheads together. "You just get it."

Lena let out a shuddering breath.

"Kara…" she whispered, so close to falling.

Kara only tightened her grip, holding Lena steady, keeping her there, keeping her close.

"I don’t love you because you’re perfect, Lena," she murmured. "I love you because you’re you."

And just like that—

Lena shattered.

She broke apart in Kara’s hands, let herself fall because Kara had always been there to catch her.

And she finally—finally—let her.

Kara held her like she was something fragile, something precious, something meant to be cherished.

And God, Lena wanted to fight it.

She wanted to argue, to deny this, to push Kara away before she sank any deeper, before she drowned in the weight of Kara’s devotion.

But Kara didn’t let her.

She just held her closer, whispering—

"You think love is something you have to earn," Kara murmured, her voice warm, soft, aching. "That it’s conditional. That if you do one wrong thing, it’ll be taken away."

Lena shook in her arms.

"But that’s not how I love, Lena," Kara whispered. "That’s not how I’ve ever loved you."

Lena let out a sound—something choked, something close to a sob.

And still, Kara held her.

"You don’t have to be perfect," she said, voice trembling but certain. "You don’t have to prove yourself to me. You don’t have to make up for anything."

Kara exhaled, pressing the softest kiss to Lena’s hair.

"You just have to be."

Lena broke.

She gripped Kara’s shirt, clutching, trying to ground herself against the storm of Kara’s words, the gentleness of them, the weight of them, the way they were crumbling every wall she had ever built.

Kara just kept speaking, her voice the only thing holding Lena together.

"You think you have to push people away before they leave you," Kara murmured. "You think if you love them too much, it’ll end in disaster."

Kara tilted Lena’s chin up, made her look.

"But I’m still here," she whispered.

Lena let out a quiet, broken gasp, her lips parting, her breath shuddering.

Kara smiled, sad and soft, the way someone smiles when they already know the ending.

"I’ve always been here."

Lena closed her eyes.

Because God.

Because Kara had.

Because she was right.

Because Lena had spent so long trying to push her away—but Kara had never left.

Never.

And now—

Now, Lena didn’t want her to.

Her walls were dust, her heart was bare, and still, Kara held her like she was something worth keeping.

Lena melted.

She let herself sink into Kara, let herself believe, just for a moment, that maybe—maybe—she could be loved like this.

That maybe, she already was.

And I miss you on a train, I miss you in the morning
I never know what to think about...