Lena never thought she’d be the type to date someone just because it made sense. But when James swooped in, with his easy smile and his charm that seemed to work on literally everyone, it started to feel less like a choice and more like a logical conclusion. “You two look so good together,” people would say, and Lena would nod and agree, even though her stomach would twist.
It wasn’t that James wasn’t great because he was. He had this way of lighting up a room, cracking a joke, making you feel like you belonged, even if you didn’t. The thing was, James was too great. Too smooth, too good at fitting in, too much like-
Well, too much like Kara.
Not that Lena was thinking about Kara. Except she was, because lately, Kara wasn’t around as much, and it hurt in ways Lena didn’t know was possible. They still had their movie nights and their “annual” sleepovers, but it wasn’t the same. Kara was half-present, like her body was there but her heart had clocked out.
And Gods, Lena missed her. Missed her so much that every time she drove past their potsticker place, she had to actively stop herself from pulling into the parking lot, just in case Kara might be there, waiting for her.
It wasn’t until her six-month anniversary with James, a perfectly lovely dinner, by the way, that it hit her. The way he said something about the dumplings reminded her of the way Kara used to argue over who could eat the last one. And suddenly, Lena couldn’t stop thinking about the first time James had reminded her of Kara, and how she’d brushed it off like it was nothing.
It wasn’t nothing.
And maybe that was the problem.
Lena had always prided herself on control. It was her armour in a world where one wrong move could mean ruin. That night, her composure was paper-thin. She had come to the gala at James’ insistence, to show your face, Lena, to remind people who really built this company, but the thought of chatting with West Coast tech mogul and opportunistic investors wasn’t her idea of fun.
James had noticed her unease when he dropped her off. “Relax,” he’d said, flashing that smile of his. “It’s just one night. I’m right behind you. I have to run back for something and traffic’s a nightmare, but I’ll be back soon.”
Now, standing alone in the ballroom, Lena wished she’d tried harder to get out of it. She twirled the stem of her champagne glass between her fingers, her smile starting to ache as some venture capitalist droned on about blockchain. The chandeliers sparkled above her, the orchestra played something elegant and forgettable, and yet, none of it made the tightness in her chest go away.
Her phone buzzed in her clutch. A text from Kara. Good luck. You’re going to be amazing, as always. Call me after, ok?
Kara always knew exactly what to say and she could make everything better with just a few words. Lena smiled, a small, sad thing, her thumb hovering over the reply button.
It had been months since they’d almost broken up, but they weren’t ever really together, were they? Lena felt a little silly every time she thought about it. They’d promised to stay friends, the real, messy, actually close kind, not the awkward kind and Kara had kept that promise, as she always did.
Sometimes, it felt like they had broken up, like something unsaid had shifted between them. The night before Lena decided to start dating James (when she almost kissed Kara) had been one of those moments. It was a mess of could-have-beens and what-ifs, and now here she was, looking at a text from Kara, pretending it wasn’t all tangled up with the kind of feelings that had no place in “just friends.”
Lena tucked her phone away, trying not to feel ridiculous for feeling so much about someone she never actually had. Focus. Survive the night. She could text Kara later and pretend this gala wasn’t a complete disaster.
But then it happened.
The sharp crack of gunfire ripped through the air, louder than anything Lena had ever heard. It cut through the music, the laughter, the conversations, slicing into the night like a needle through flesh. She froze and her brain didn’t quite catch up with her body in time.
People screamed. The noise, the chaos was like a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. Bodies shoved past her, desperate, scared, and she stumbled back, her heel catching on the hem of her dress. She gasped, short, panicked breaths, as the world twisted around her.
Then, a hand.
“Lena, move!”
She was pulled and her body collided with someone before crashing to the ground. Her vision spun, everything tilting, footsteps fading into the distance. Above her, a body shielded hers. And all she could do was breathe. Though, the silence that followed was worse than the noise.
Lena stumbled into her apartment, heart still racing. She needed someone, anyone, to tell her she was going to be ok. Is that too much to ask? She was supposed to be the strong one, the calm one, the one who didn’t crack under pressure but now, standing in her doorway, she just wanted to be held.
Kelly shoved a coffee cup into her hands, steam rising like some sort of pathetic attempt at comfort. “Here, Lena. This’ll help.”
Lena barely glanced at it, her gaze flickering over to Alex from the couch. She met her eyes, no words needed. Alex already knew.
Kara was the only one who could calm Lena down. She thought back on a time when she was in her office as she sipped the brown liquid. It wasn’t a memory of danger. No, Kara saved her from something smaller; a spilt cup of coffee on a hectic morning. Lena had been pacing her office, clearly sleep-deprived, when the mug slipped and messed on her blouse.
The blonde popped up out of nowhere, grabbing paper towels with a chuckle. “You’re banned from coffee machines, Miss Luthor. Effective immediately.” She’d held Lena’s hand. “Don’t worry about the blouse. We’ll get you another one.”
She blinked and the memory was gone. Everyone in her apartment was asking questions about the attack, the details, but Lena couldn’t focus on any of it or even bring herself to answer.
The door creaked open minutes later, and in walked Kara. She paused in the doorway for a second, looking like she wanted to crack a joke or two. But when her eyes found Lena, the words died on her lips. She didn’t hesitate. She dropped to the floor next to Lena, her knees hitting the hardwood with a thud. No greeting. No warning. Just Kara, right there, close enough to make Lena feel like she wasn’t alone anymore.
Without saying a word, Kara reached out, wiping a tear off Lena’s cheek as though it was the most natural thing in the world.
Lena flinched slightly at the touch, but then the blonde’s hand cupped her face gently. It wasn’t like James’ arm around her shoulders, or Kelly’s sickeningly sweet coffee. Lena looked up. "Kara," she whispered, the word slipping out like a plea.
“I’m here,” Kara murmured back, her voice softer than Lena had ever heard it. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
Lena wanted to move away, to convince herself she didn’t need this, didn’t need Kara, but who was she kidding? Life could be a field of sunflowers and unicorns, and her mind and body would still laugh in her face at the idea of not needing Kara.
Lena couldn’t help it when she pushed James’ arm off her shoulder, and before she could even process what was happening, Kara was pulling her into her arms to make it all feel less awful. Lena buried her face in Kara’s shoulder, her body giving up the fight.
There was silence, but not the suffocating kind that had been choking her for hours. This was the quiet that came with understanding as the tears rolled off Lena's cheeks.
Alex took a step back, looking at James like he might start asking questions. “Maybe we should give them some space?” she suggested.
When Lena finally fell asleep, exhausted and completely broken but somehow a little bit more whole, Kara slipped out of the bedroom where she was left lying. But the minute she entered the living room, she could feel the change in the air. James was standing by the door, his eyes sharp and calculating, like he was deciding whether or not to challenge her. And, honestly, it pissed her off.
He gave her a side-eye that screamed "I'm watching you," and Kara wasn’t having it. “What?” she said calmly.
Kelly, ever the observant one, leaned in over the counter. “Don’t overthink it, Kara,” she teased. “James is a bit possessive.”
Kara raised an eyebrow, not even trying to hide her disbelief. “Possessive? Over what? He doesn’t own Lena.”
Kelly just shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Well, Lena is his girlfriend. Doesn’t make it any less true.”
Kara’s gaze snapped back to James, who was still glaring at her like she had just stolen his last cookie. She didn’t care. He could glare all he wanted because he didn’t have the right. Then again, maybe that’s all she was supposed to be, right? Just Lena’s friend, while James played the perfect boyfriend.
The second time it happened was a couple months prior. The autumn leaves hung on the branches, turning copper and gold as the sleek black car cruised down the winding country road. The heater was doing its job, keeping the chilly air outside at bay. Lena sat in the passenger seat, doodling on the misty window while James gripped the wheel, his knuckles going white against the leather.
“…and that’s why it matters, Lena. You can’t just sit back and let things like this happen. People deserve better, and if we have the means to help, it’s not just a choice. It’s an obligation.”
Lena stretched her neck, half-listening. James had been talking like this for ten minutes, his voice rising and falling as though he were giving a speech on something important. “It’s not about ego,” he added, glancing at her with frustration. “It’s about doing the right thing, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard.”
He seemed so certain, so sure of himself, and for a second, Lena found herself admiring that confidence. However, it wasn't long before it clicked. She realised that perhaps she wasn’t sure she wanted all that certainty. Maybe she just wanted things to be a little simpler. His words kept replaying, and rather than being inspired, she was tired. Was doing the “right thing” always so intense? Wasn’t it ok to just want peace? She wasn’t sure anymore. Not even about getting back together with him after all these years.
“You’re awfully quiet,” James said, calling her out. “Don’t you agree?”
Lena blinked, pulled from her thoughts. “Of course, I do. You’re right,” she replied, the words slipping out without thinking.
James frowned, swerving frantically into the left lane. “That’s not exactly convincing, Lena.”
She sighed and stared out the window at the passing road. “I think you’re making some good points. But not everything’s black and white. Sometimes…” She paused. “Sometimes, people’s choices aren’t as simple as you make them out to be.”
His laugh was more bitter than funny. “Spoken like someone who’s afraid to take a stand.”
That hit Lena harder than it should have. She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself not to react. He wasn’t trying to be cruel; he was just so wrapped up in being right. It still made her feel small, like she wasn’t living up to his standards.
Kara would have agreed with James, of course. She believed in people’s goodness, in doing what’s right. But where James’ passion felt like a sledgehammer, always pushing for things to be his way, Kara’s was more like a gentle push, steady and patient.
Lena could almost hear Kara now, as if she was right there between them. “You’re right, Lena. It’s complicated. But maybe that’s why it’s worth trying.” Kara never argued to win. She talked to connect, to help. And when she looked at Lena, it wasn’t with anger.
The car hit a bump, jerking her back to the present. She wanted to believe in James’ words. She really did. The man had enough conviction to start a religion, and she wanted to feel that spark of hope he was so sure existed. But all she could feel was the distance between them growing wider than any of his speeches about justice and rightness.
And sitting next to James, with his very sharp corners and endless certainty, Lena couldn’t help but think that the universe was trying to tell her something. That thing? You’re very much alone right now, Lena, and maybe, this relationship just isn't for you.
It was around the end of November when the third time slipped past, and Lena found herself nursing her drink and pretending to be absorbed in the conversation. She didn’t know why she was even here. Another evening of forced socialising with James’ friends, another attempt to tell herself she wasn’t bored out of her mind. She wasn’t bored. She was just inconvenienced by the sheer volume of enthusiasm in the room.
James, sitting across the room, was in the middle of an absurd college story, gesturing like he was auditioning for a role in a bad sitcom. He landed the punchline with such deadpan precision that the whole group erupted in laughter. And against her better judgement Lena found herself laughing too.
She clapped a hand over her mouth, realising too late just how loud it had been. Her boyfriend caught her eye, “Finally,” he said as if he’d been waiting for the heavens to open up and reveal that Lena, too, was capable of joy. “I was starting to think you didn’t have a sense of humour.”
Lena shot him a look. “Don’t flatter yourself. It wasn’t that funny.”
“Oh, it was,” he countered with a self-assured grin that made her want to roll her eyes so hard they might get stuck. “It definitely was.”
The conversation moved on, a red-head named Janet, suggesting charades, and Lena tried her hardest to stay awake. All she could hear now was the echo of her own laugh. That weird, unguarded laugh that had come out of her like an emotional emergency. The last time she really laughed was-
Ugh... with Kara.
Not in the “I miss her” way, because that was a given. Kara was trying (and failing) to balance a spoon on her nose. She had never been good at it, but the attempt was still endearing in the way that only Kara could manage. To this day, Lena wasn't even sure why she'd laughed so loudly, but Kara’s laugh wasn’t just a sound; it was an invitation to lean in closer, to be part of something real.
It was ridiculous. Lena was supposed to be over this. But there she was again, comparing James to Kara, as if they could ever be in the same category. As if Lena could just toss out her thoughts like they were old clothes she no longer wore.
Suddenly, Lena’s feet had a mind of its own. She heard her name being called from behind her. James? One of his friends? The brunette merely gave a quick excuse about needing fresh air as she escaped whatever-the-hell-this-gathering was.
The cold hit her as she stepped into the backyard, a gust of wind tugging at her coat. A cat, probably just as over this night as she was, brushed against her legs, and without thinking, her hand moved to her pocket where her phone rested.
She knew Kara was “busy”, and the odds of her picking up were slim. Not tonight, especially not with everything going on. Lena was desperate and so she pressed the call button anyway.
One ring. Two. Three.
“Hey.” Kara’s voice was a lifeline. “What's up?” She asked.
Lena didn’t answer right away. She scratched the cat behind the ears, listening to the purr as she let herself breathe for just a second longer. “Kara.” She exhaled, like calling her name would undo the mess of the night.
“Didn’t think I’d hear from you tonight,” Kara said, her tone light but just shy of teasing. “How’s game night? Everyone pretending to enjoy James’ stories?”
Lena smiled faintly. “It’s fine. James… he made me laugh.”
There was a pause on the other end, brief but weighted. When Kara spoke again, her voice was careful. “He’s funny sometimes. I’ll give him that.”
It wasn’t the response she’d been expecting. Hell, she didn’t know what she was expecting as Lena’s grip on the phone tightened.
“Kara,” she began, unsure of what she wanted to say, “I-”
“Lena,” Kara interrupted, a defense mechanism Lena knew too well. “It’s fine. Really. I’m glad you’re having fun.”
Fun? It wasn’t anything close to what Kara seemed to think. Lena closed her eyes, leaning against the porch railing as the ache in her chest deepened. “It’s not the same.”
The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she cursed herself for the nostalgia they held. It wasn’t just about James. It was about the space she felt between herself and Kara, the gap she didn’t know how to cross.
Kara didn’t respond immediately, and sighed. “It’s not supposed to be, Lena,” she said finally. “James isn’t me. He’s not… us.”
Lena swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean- ”
“I know what you meant,” Kara interrupted. “And it’s ok. It’s just…” She hesitated, and Lena could almost picture her running a hand through her hair, that nervous tic Kara always had when she was trying to find the right words. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to explain anything to me. You’re allowed to be happy. We're still friends.”
And that was the problem. She didn’t want to settle for just being friends. She wanted to hold Kara. She wanted to be held by Kara. She wanted to kiss her, and be kissed by her. She wanted all of that, and more. And yet, she couldn't say it.
“I miss you,” Lena said, before she could stop herself, the words escaping like an admission, an apology, a confession all wrapped into one. And it was the safest thing she could say.
On the other end of the line, there was a sharp intake of breath. “I miss you too,” Kara whispered, and for a moment, they could forget about the distance, the pain, and even James. The cat at Lena’s feet meowed and then ran off.
“I should go,” Kara coughed. “You’ve got a game night to get back to, and I’ve got… stuff.”
“Yeah,” Lena replied. “Stuff.” She watched where the cat had disappeared, like it had never been there at all. It was strange, how the backyard it left behind felt just as empty as the space Kara had left in her life.
The fourth time it happened, Lena sat at her desk staring at the scattered reports she hadn’t touched in hours. Her neck hurt as she closed her eyes, trying to stay up for another few minutes.
A soft knock on the door broke her reverie. She didn’t need to look up to know it was James. “Lena?”
She tried her best to look excited at the very least when her boyfriend crossed the threshold. He tapped his finger on his watch to tell Lena it was time to go home. James then stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You’re working yourself too hard again.”
She shrugged, smiling humourlessly. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
He didn’t buy it, of course. He never did.
Though James didn’t pick up on the way Lena’s attention drifted. He was still talking, something about his day, about how busy things had been, about how he couldn’t believe the things people said.
Lena didn’t mean to stare at James’ mouth, but somehow, that’s where her eyes settled as he rambled on. It wasn’t that she wanted him to kiss her, not now, not like this.
Then James stopped talking, a slow smirk playing across his lips, as if he’d read something in her gaze that wasn’t there. “You know, you don’t have to just stare,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave. “You could let me help with that.”
Lena blinked, confused for a second before her stomach dropped. Of course, she knew what he meant. They’d slept together before (obviously), but that wasn’t what she wanted tonight.
She let him lean in nonetheless, let him kiss her neck, his hands moving in familiar, practiced ways. Lena was here physically, but her mind wasn’t. Her mind was somewhere else; somewhere with someone else.
She thought of Kara, and how she cancelled lunch, and how even if she had turned up, it wouldn’t be the same. Everything felt like it was slipping away, like the things that mattered to her were just... fading.
It wasn’t until James’ hands began unbuttoning her shirt that Lena’s thoughts snapped back. “Stop,” she choked. She felt small, exposed, and didn’t dare to look up.
“I just… need a minute,” she said, the words thick with unshed tears, her heart caught between what she had and what she needed.
He didn’t hear her, or maybe he didn’t care. She pulled away, feeling disconnected, like she wasn’t in control of her own body. Without another word, she grabbed her coat and fled out the door, the cold night rushing to meet her like a welcome escape.
She didn’t wait for James to follow. She hailed a cab, the world around her blurring as she tried to breathe through it all: work, Kara, James until she didn’t know where she was going, only that she couldn’t stay there anymore.
Once she got home, Lena stood under the stream of her shower, the water scalding against her skin. Her hair clung to her face, strands plastered against her cheeks as the water pooled at her feet. She sank to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest, her arms wrapping around them as if to hold herself together.
The tears came then, hot and unchecked, spilling and mingling with the water. She buried her face against her knees, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed silently.
She wanted Kara. No! She needed Kara. James was good. But he wasn’t Kara.
Lena’s chest heaved, the sobs wracked her body like some over-dramatic movie scene she didn’t sign up for. When she finally looked up, the water had turned cold, and the bathroom was foggy with steam.
Sitting there, shivering and stupidly by herself, Lena already knew but refused to accept: Kara wasn’t coming back.
Kara shouldn’t be here. She knew that. She had a mental checklist of reasons why this was a terrible idea, but apparently, that list wasn’t convincing enough to stop her feet from carrying her to Lena’s door. And now she was standing in the hallway, takeaway coffees cooling in her hands.
Lena’s sadness had been like background noise all evening, buzzing in Kara’s head like an old, crackling radio station she couldn’t switch off. Her abilities usually helped her feel Lena’s emotions. But tonight? Just static. Heavy, overwhelming static.
Kara had paced her own apartment for hours, debating with herself. Leave her alone, she thought. She’s fine. Then, guilt had twisted its way into her stomach, and she was at Lena’s door, armed with zero solutions and two lattes.
Inside, the apartment was off. Not in a hammy, overturned-furniture kind of way, but in the subtle messiness of someone quietly losing the will to care. A jacket drooped over the back of a chair like it had given up halfway to the hook. A mug sat on the coffee table, its tea abandoned hours ago, cold and forgotten.
Moving carefully, Kara wandered through the space, brushing her fingertips along the back of the couch as she passed. She straightened a pile of papers, took the mug to the sink, and gave it a quick rinse before setting it out to dry. It wasn’t much but she hoped the tiniest gesture might make Lena feel better.
The bedroom was dim, lit only by the glow of a lamp Lena had probably forgotten to switch off. Kara hesitated in the doorway, her heart clenching at the sight. Lena was curled on her side, her hair tangled against the pillow. In sleep, her face showed relief, but the red around her eyes gave it away. She’d cried herself to sleep.
Kara swallowed hard, setting the coffees down on the bedside table. For a moment, she stood there, watching, her own heart aching in time with the steady rise and fall of Lena’s breaths. You’re here now, Kara told herself. That has to count for something.
Before she could second-guess herself, she moved to the bed and slipped onto the mattress behind Lena, careful not to wake her. She shouldn’t have, but she had to.
She could smell Lena’s shampoo, a mix of lavender and citrus, like peace bottled up in a $12 conditioner. Tentatively, she reached out and wrapped an arm around Lena’s waist. It was wrong, but Gods, it felt so right.
Lena stirred again, her head shifting slightly as she mumbled something incoherent. Kara’s heart leapt into her throat, panic flaring as she froze. But Lena didn’t wake up. She pressed back into Kara’s hold, her sleepy voice breaking the silence. “Kara…”
Kara swallowed hard, her eyes stinging. “I’m here,” she whispered, even though she knew Lena couldn’t hear her.
“You’re always so warm,” Lena murmured, her words slurring.
Kara smiled. “And you always hog the blankets.”
Lena giggled, still halfway in a dream. “Not my fault you never bring enough.”
“Maybe if you didn’t wrap yourself up like a burrito, we wouldn’t have this problem,” Kara countered, playfully, though she knew Lena would never remember this conversation.
“I’d share if you asked,” Lena mumbled, her voice fading as sleep reclaimed her fully.
Kara stayed still for a moment. She held Lena a little tighter, wishing she could stay like this forever. Carefully, she loosened her hold and pulled away, moving as gently as possible. Grabbing the blanket from the end of the bed, she draped it over Lena and tucked it snugly around her shoulders.
Before stepping back, Kara leaned in and pecked Lena’s temple, barely there but full of everything she couldn’t say. “Goodnight, Lena,” she whispered, her voice shaky with all the feelings she was trying to hide.
In the kitchen, she found a scrap of paper and a pen. Her handwriting was neat but hurried, the words spilling out in a rush of affection she couldn’t contain.
I’ve been kind of... avoiding things, and I hate that I’ve made you feel like I’m pulling away. The truth is, I’m terrible at this whole "emotions" thing, but I should’ve been there for you. You’ve been through a lot, and you deserve better than me acting like a weird, emotionally constipated superhero. Ugh, that was a terrible analogy. But you know what I mean, right? I miss you. I miss us. I just need you to know I’m here when you’re ready, whether that’s for lunch or just... talking or whatever. I promise I won’t be weird about it. Take care of yourself. You’re not alone in this. Love always, K.
And as Kara slipped out into the night, she smiled, even as tears pricked her eyes. It wasn’t enough. It could never be enough. Tonight, it would have to do.
It had started becoming a routine at this point. Thinking about Kara, that was. The hospital room was decked out with paper snowflakes and tinsel, but still empty. Outside, snow covered the streets, but the real chill was inside, where Lena’s forced smiles didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Beside her, James sat cross-legged on the floor, his holiday sweater decorated with a cartoon reindeer that danced whenever he moved. His grin was boyish, his energy infectious, and for the first twenty minutes of the Christmas reading session, the children had hung on his every word. His deep, melodic voice brought the story of The Night Before Christmas to life.
Lena noticed the cracks in James’ usual energy as his shoulders slumped and the kids bombarded him with questions. When he stepped out to grab snacks, leaving her in charge, the room changed.
She picked up the book and started reading. Her voice was calm, even, but it didn’t have the spark James always managed to bring. The kids listened, or at least they stared, their faces blank and doll-like in the stillness.
They usually interrupted her with questions about the reindeer, laughing at Santa’s antics, or debating if they’d made the Nice List. But today, the silence hung heavy, stretched thin like a thread about to snap. Lena sensed it before it came; the question forming in the mind of the little boy near the front. His blond curls framed a face so open, so serious, that she found herself holding her breath, waiting for the hit.
“Why isn’t Kara here?”
Oh.
“I-” she stumbled, her tongue thick and clumsy in her mouth. “Kara’s very busy today, sweetie. She’s working hard.” A lie.
The boy frowned, unconvinced. “She’s never too busy for us,” he said with the certainty of a child who believed in the constancy of his heroes.
A small girl with braided hair and wide, dark eyes joined in, her tone accusing. “Miss Lena, you’re lying. She’s always here, but not today.”
“Kara’s just busy, that’s all,” Lena said again, though the words sounded emptier with each repetition.
The children didn’t believe her. Their solemn nods and disappointed faces made it clear. They weren’t fooled and somehow, they could sense what was going on. She'd taken Kara's name off the previous week, and not out of spite, but because this was simply too messy right now.
The rest of the session blurred. Lena read the words, but by the time it was over and they turned their attention to juice boxes and cookies, Lena let herself exhale, shaky and relieved.
The nurse from earlier knocked the wind out of Lena, brushing past her with a glare. “If you’re not going to help, stay out of the way,” she muttered, loud enough for others to hear. Lena had stood frozen, heat rising in her cheeks, ever embarrassed.
And then Ellie appeared. A frail girl with a bright red scarf wrapped around her head, tugging at Lena’s sleeve.
“Lena?” Ellie’s voice came, trembling and full of tears.
Lena blinked and knelt down. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“When can I see Kara again?” Ellie’s bottom lip quivered as she spoke. “I miss her. We were going to make a snowman. The nurses won’t let me outside. Plus, she won’t let anyone be so rude to you. She’s always nice and says nice things about you.”
“What kinds of things?” she asked, wiping away Ellie’s tears as the lump in her throat tightened.
Ellie’s hand squeezed hers, small but sure. “She says you’re special. That she cares about you a lot. She says you’re amazing, not just good, but amazeballs.”
The ache in Lena’s chest spread, a bittersweet mix of warmth and pain. She should have felt comforted, but instead, it only made the absence of Kara even harder to bear.
“Thank you for telling me, Ellie,” she said. She squeezed the girl’s hand, her smile trembling on her lips and promising her that they'd find a way to make that snowman.
Ellie nodded, satisfied, and shuffled back to her seat, clutching her juice box with both hands. Lena watched her go, trying her best not to cry. Kara’s absence wasn’t just hers to bear; it was a wound that these children, with their innocent hearts and unfiltered honesty, felt just as keenly.
James returned then, his arms full of snacks. “Everything ok?” he asked, crouching beside her to set down the snacks.
Lena nodded. “Yeah. Just tired. I had a long day.”
It wasn’t just that day or the week. It was everything. She’d been holding in too much: the exhaustion of trying to keep everything together while something inside her felt like it was falling apart. Tired didn’t even begin to cover it.
Then, the fight began with something small. It always did.
James was sitting on the edge of Lena’s couch, arms crossed, clearly upset. She stood by the coffee table, her fingers drumming against its polished surface, trying to hold her temper in check.
“I’m just saying,” James said, “you can’t keep everyone at arm’s length, Lena. It’s exhausting. For you. For me.”
Lena’s lips pressed into a thin line and she took a breath. “I’m not keeping you at arm’s length, James. I’m busy. You knew that when we started this.”
“Busy?” He laughed, shaking his head. “This isn’t about being busy. It’s about control. You don’t let anyone in because you’re afraid of what happens when they see the real you.”
Lena blinked, a flicker of disbelief crossing her face. “The real me?” she repeated dangerously.
James stood, stepping closer, his anger bleeding into impatience. “Yes, Lena. The real you. The one who’s too scared to trust anyone, who’s still convinced the world is out to get her.”
Lena’s pulse quickened, anger bubbling to the surface. “I have every reason to be cautious,” she said, her voice rising. “You have no idea what it’s like to carry the name I do, to constantly have to prove that I’m not-” She stopped herself.
“Not what?” James pressed. “Not like Lex? Not like every other Luthor who’s left destruction in their wake?”
There it was. The dagger she hadn’t even realised he’d been holding.
Lena took a step back, as if the words had physically pushed her. She stared at him. “Do you even hear yourself?” she said.
James didn’t back down. If anything, he looked more decided, like he was ready to stake his claim. “I’m not saying you’re like him, Lena, but you can’t pretend that name doesn’t come with a lot of damage. And maybe, maybe some of it is yours.”
The room felt like it had dropped ten degrees. Lena’s heart pounded in her chest, “You think I’m damaged,” she spat. "Well, that's great. So now I’m personally responsible for every bad thing that happened in the last century? Well, I’ll get my cape and start fixing the world one Luthor at a time then. Thanks for the advice, James."
“I didn’t say that,” James replied quickly, but the fact that he was defensive only made it worse.
“You didn’t have to,” Lena shot back. “I’m a Luthor, right? It’s in my blood. You’ve been thinking about it all along, haven’t you? That no matter how hard I try, I’ll never really be good enough.”
“That’s not what I mean, Lena, but you don’t exactly make it easy, do you? You push people away, and then you act like it’s their fault when they can’t reach you.”
Lena’s hands curled into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. “I have to push people away, James. Because if I don’t, they’ll use me. Or hurt me. Or leave me. Just like everyone else.”
“Not everyone is out to get you!” James yelled, his patience snapping. “But maybe that’s just easier for you to believe, isn’t it? Because then you don’t have to take responsibility for the way you shut people out.”
“Don’t you dare,” Lena said, her voice shaking. “Don’t you stand there and tell me I’m the problem when you’re the one who’s been waiting for me to fail.”
James opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come fast enough. Lena’s voice rose, years of buried pain and anger spilling out.
“You think I don’t see it? The way you look at me sometimes? Like you’re just waiting for me to mess up, to prove that I’m exactly what the world says I am? I trusted you, James. I let you in, and now you’re standing here telling me I’m broken. Like I’m some kind of project for you to fix.”
“That’s not fair,” James said, but Lena didn’t stop.
“You think I don’t know what people say about me?” she continued, her voice cracking. “I live with it every day. I’ve fought so hard to prove them wrong, to prove that I’m more than my name. But it’s never enough. Not for the world, and apparently not for you either.”
James looked at her, his face a mixture of regret and frustration. “Lena, that’s not-”
“Save it,” she interrupted. “You’re just like the rest of them. I thought you were different, but I was wrong.”
She turned away from him, her shoulders trembling as she fought to keep herself together. James took a step toward her, but she held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks.
“Don’t,” she said, weakly. “Just go. We're done.”
James hesitated, but when she didn’t move, he finally turned and walked to the door for good. The sound of it closing behind him was like a crack of thunder, leaving Lena standing alone in the silence.
James wasn’t who she needed. He never was.
Lena now stood in the centre of her apartment that same night, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if that could hold her together. He hadn’t just crossed a line; he’d obliterated it, tearing open wounds she’d fought so hard to keep hidden. She blinked back tears, furious at herself for letting them fall, for letting him get to her.
She reached for her phone almost without thinking, her hand trembling as she scrolled through her contacts, her thumb hesitating at each name.
Alex? Too blunt. She’d probably just tell her to talk to him and stop overthinking it. Which, yeah, fine, but that wasn’t really what she needed right now. Kelly? Too kind. Kelly would tell her she was being too hard on herself, and that’s not what she was in the mood for either. Andrea? Maybe. Andrea could offer some distraction and take her to some overpriced café for avocado toast and a life-altering conversation. But would she actually understand what was going on in Lena’s head? Probably not.
J'onn? Definitely not. The last thing Lena needed right now was a calm, fatherly figure telling her to be patient and listen to her feelings. Lena hated how much she actually liked J'onn's advice.
She bit her lip, scrolling further. Then her finger stopped, hovering over Kara’s name. Her breath caught in her throat. Don’t do this, Lena.
But the thought of sitting here alone, staring at the empty space where her future should have been, was killing her. Kara... Kara had always been her anchor, the one person who could pull her back from this cliff without judgement, without expectation.
Though, calling Kara now felt like throwing herself into the deep end of so many feelings. Was it unfair? Probably. Would it make things worse? Duh. But Lena couldn’t shake the pull, the desperate need to hear Kara’s voice, to feel like she wasn’t completely losing her mind.
A self-deprecating laugh slipped out of her mouth. "Of course it’s Kara," she muttered to herself. "Because that makes sense."
Before she could overthink it, she pressed the call button. It rang twice before her best friend's fond voice answered. “Lena?”
The sound of her name spoken with so much care, broke whatever composure Lena had left. She didn’t mean to let the sob slip out, but it did.
“Lena,” Kara said again. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“I-” Lena tried to speak, but the lump in her throat choked the words. She closed her eyes, breathing in shallow gasps. “I’m fine. I just... I needed to hear your voice.”
Kara didn’t hesitate. “I’m coming over.”
“No, Kara, you don’t have to-”
“I’ll be there in a minute,”
Kara interrupted, her voice firm, but not unkind. There was no room for argument. No hesitation in her decision to come, to be there.
The call ended before Lena could even find the words to stop her. She stared at the homescreen of her and Kara from years back. Why had she called? What was she even expecting? She didn’t deserve this kindness, didn’t deserve Kara, but that ache inside her, the one she couldn’t shake, had pushed her to it.
True to her word, Kara arrived almost exactly sixty seconds later. The silence in Lena’s apartment was deafening as the soft whoosh of air cut through the stillness outside her balcony door.
Lena didn’t move. She couldn’t. She felt like if she moved, if she blinked, the entire world might collapse on her. And then she saw Kara. Her eyes, those blue ones that always seemed to bring a sense of calm, swept over Lena, taking in her tear-streaked face, the trembling hands she hadn’t been able to hide.
For a moment, neither of them said anything. Kara just stood there, looking at Lena like she wanted to reach out, but was waiting for Lena to let her. Then she was there closing the distance between them in a single step. Kara’s arms wrapped around Lena, pulling her close.
Lena didn’t resist. She melted into the embrace, feeling the warmth of Kara’s body against hers, the way Kara’s presence anchored her. She clung to Kara like she was drowning, as if the mere act of holding her might be the only thing that could make her feel whole again. She wasn’t even sure why she was crying; why she couldn’t stop.
They stayed like that for a long time. The minutes passed like hours. Neither of them spoke. Kara held Lena tightly, one hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on her back, as though trying to tell her that it was ok, that she was safe, even without saying the words.
Lena finally pulled back, embarrassed by how much of herself she’d just given away. Her face flushed with shame. She looked anywhere but at Kara. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, sniffling. “I didn’t mean to call you like that. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
Kara shook her head frantically. “Lena,” she said gently, reaching up to lift Lena’s chin, making sure their eyes met. “You’re never a bother. You know that, right?”
Too in a trance, Lena just nodded, her tears threatening to fall again as she leaned into Kara’s touch. Inside, the apartment was colder than it had been in weeks, the heating system still recovering from the shock of actually working too hard the night before. Or maybe it was just Lena, her mood turning everything icy, even with Kara in the room.
Kara didn’t rush, though. She never did. She just moved with that slow, measured ease, almost like she was giving Lena time to catch up with her own emotions; time to decide how much of herself she was going to give. She took her time making the hot chocolate, melting the cocoa into the milk, stirring it until it bubbled just right. She didn’t speak, didn’t ask anything.
Lena sat there, arms crossed over her chest, staring out of the window. The city lights outside were fuzzy, distorted, like everything in her world lately. Kara had made her promise not to look at her phone anymore. She’d done that already, a long time ago.
James was going to try to contact her. He always did. It was a persistent, irritating thing, like an itch that won’t just go away. The worst part? He was probably right. He probably was going to win. And soon enough, everyone would know her for exactly what she was. Lena Luthor, the damage done and the damage to be done, like a damn family inheritance she couldn’t shake off.
So when Kara finally appeared in front of her, mug in hand, Lena didn’t immediately reach for it. She just stared at it, eyes a little unfocused, a little tired.
“You sure you don’t want a marshmallow or something?” Kara asked.
Lena smirked, taking the cup from her hands. “If I wanted marshmallows, I’d have asked for marshmallows, Supergirl.”
Kara shrugged, undeterred. “Yeah, but who doesn’t want marshmallows in their hot chocolate? It’s basically the law of physics. Which I’m totally an expert in, by the way.”
Lena couldn’t help the half-laugh that escaped her lips. So predictable. Then she just went back to staring into her mug, the chocolate swirling as she swirled the spoon, focusing on the vortex that spun, like maybe she could get lost in it.
“Fine, fine,” Kara continued, sitting beside Lena with a smile so wide it threatened to take over her whole face. “I guess you’re just too much of a grown-up for marshmallows.” She raised an eyebrow playfully. “Too cool for the marshmallow gang.”
“Yeah, well,” Lena said with a dry chuckle. “I can’t risk my mature and sophisticated image by associating with marshmallow enthusiasts.”
Kara snorted, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “Well, there goes my whole world view,” she said dramatically, falling back against the couch, crossing her arms behind her head.
Lena rolled her eyes but let the corner of her mouth curl up slightly. Stupid Kara . Stupid sunshine.
But then the silence came. Then, Lena’s tears. Not a sob. Not a breakdown. Just the fall of everything she had been holding in for God knows how long. Kara noticed. Her eyes moved from Lena’s face to her mug, then back to Lena’s eyes. She didn’t say anything for a while, just watching her, knowing the brunette needed a release.
“You know,” Kara said, “I’m really good at pretending to be fine. Like, world-class. I could probably teach a master class in it. I mean... I’ve had to do it since forever. You know, pretend everything’s fine, that the weight of the world isn’t actually crushing me, that I’m ok... when really, I’m just lying to myself. But you, Lena,” she glanced at her carefully, “you don’t have to lie to me. Not here. Not with me.”
Lena blinked at her. No one’s ever said that before.
Instead of responding, Lena let her head fall back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. Kara was right. Somehow that made it worse, because it meant Kara had been seeing all the cracks, all the broken pieces of her that no one else had cared to notice.
Then came the words she hadn’t expected. The ones that dropped like stones.
“I hate him, Kara,” Lena whispered, not looking at her. “I hate him so much.” She swallowed hard. “He-he basically called me ‘damaged goods.’ And he’s right. He’s right about everything. Everyone will see me the way he does. I’m just... just a Luthor. No one’s ever going to see me as anything else.”
Lena closed her eyes, not trusting herself to look at Kara’s face. She wasn’t sure what she’d see there. Pity? Disgust? Or worse, indifference?
The blonde didn’t flinch, and she didn’t pull away. “Well,” Kara said, and clicked tongue, “he’s a jackass. And he’s wrong.”
Lena laughed bitterly, her voice rough with tears. “Yeah, tell that to him.”
“I’d love to tell him that. I’d kick his ass, actually.” Kara said it with complete seriousness, and Lena couldn’t help but snort, shaking her head.
“I’d pay to see that,” Lena replied, finally allowing herself to meet Kara’s eyes.
Kara’s expression melted. “I mean it,” she whispered. “You’re not damaged. You’re the strongest person I know. You’ve been through hell, and you’re still standing. That’s not ‘damaged,’ Lena. That’s called resilience.”
Lena opened her mouth, ready to throw back another sarcastic retort, but Kara wasn’t done. She moved closer as if she could somehow make Lena believe her. She set the mug down on the coffee table, then, without hesitation, moved Lena’s legs over her lap.
Kara leaned back, her arm resting on the back of the couch just like Lena’s, as she began drawing invisible patterns on Lena’s thigh with her fingers.
“I’m not saying you’ve got it easy,” Kara murmured, her fingers tracing the fabric of Lena’s pants. “But I do think you deserve to be loved. To be cherished. And I’m not sure why I have to be the one to keep saying this, but... I’ll say it as many times as you need. You deserve more than what James or anyone else can offer you.”
Smoothly, she reached over with the sleeve of her top and wiped a tear from Lena’s cheek, never mind the slight string of mucus still clinging to her best friend's nose. She did it with a softness that was somehow both tender and practical. Lena felt herself going still, as if the very act of Kara reaching out to her had turned her world upside down.
“Don’t you ever get tired of saying the right things?” she muttered, almost fragile.
Kara smirked, looking a little bashful. “Sometimes. But... I guess I don’t mind, if it makes you feel better.”
Lena smiled. “You always know what to say.”
Kara leaned in closer, her face inches from Lena’s now. Ha! No, she didn't. “Not always. But I know how it feels to be scared. To feel like you’re losing someone. I’ve been there too, Lena. And I...” She bit her lip, unsure, then looked up at the brunette. “I remember the first time we met. And I’ll be honest, I was terrified. I wanted to impress you, I wanted to be someone who made you proud. But there were moments when I thought maybe I was losing you. I didn’t know how to keep you from slipping away. And that night, before James, before everything happened, I wanted to kiss you so badly. Like, really badly. And I had this whole love confession ready, but, well... I didn’t exactly get the chance, did I?”
Lena’s heart did this funny thing where it stopped before restarting in a rush. She blinked at Kara, unsure of what to say.
"You could’ve told me then," Lena whispered, almost desperately. The world seemed to tilt for a moment. A love confession? All these years, all the time they’d spent together, and now Kara was telling her this?
Kara looked at her, the corner of her mouth twitching. She leaned in just a little closer, savouring this torturous hold she had on Lena. “Not yet.”
“What do you mean, ‘not yet’?” Lena wasn’t sure if she was hurt or relieved by the playful tone, but the uncertainty ate at her.
Kara winked. “I might just make you fall in love with me,” she teased, her voice a playful lilt.
Lena’s heart skipped. She smiled so wide her dimples appeared, warmth flooding her chest like a fire. Her mind stumbled over the words before they left her lips. “Too late.”
Kara, always so bright and open, was nothing like James. That was the problem. Or maybe the solution. Because Kara was here, really here, and that terrified Lena in ways she hadn’t expected. But it wasn’t the kind of fear that made her want to run. No, it was the kind that made her want to stay.
Oh God. Kara basically just admitted to liking Lena back. Her stomach did that fluttery thing. Stop it. Stop it. You’re a grown woman. You don’t get butterflies at every little thing Kara says.
Except... it was Kara. And... Ok, maybe she did.
Kara raised an eyebrow, eyes dancing with mischief. “So, what now?”
Lena paused. What now? That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it?
She hadn’t been prepared for Kara to be this much of a force; this loving presence in her life. Kara didn’t just knock on the door to Lena’s heart. She kicked it down, blasted through the barriers Lena had spent years building up. And it scared her, but it also thrilled her, like standing at the edge of something big, something terrifying, but beautiful.
Lena bit her lip, glancing at the way Kara’s blonde hair fell over her shoulders. She reached out and twirled the ends, testing the softness of it between her fingers, as if it could keep them here for an eternity.
“I don’t know what now,” Lena said. “But that's also ok.”
Kara’s hand reached out, brushing against Lena’s cheek in a soft caress. “Exactly. You’ve got me now, Lena. And I’m not going anywhere.”
It wasn’t just the words. It was the way Kara said them, like she meant every single one. Like Kara really saw her, not the Luthor, not the mistakes, but the woman she was right here, right now.
The blonde tilted her head slightly, eyes searching Lena’s. Then Kara’s voice broke it again, this time smoother, almost teasing. “I think I could kiss you right now, you know.”
Lena blinked, her heart thudding in her chest. “You think so?”
Kara smirked, leaning in just a fraction closer, her lips almost brushing against Lena’s ear. “I know so.”
Lena couldn’t help but laugh. She inhaled as Kara pulled back, enough to look into her eyes with that affectionate gaze.
“I’m not scared of kissing you, you know,” Kara said.
"You should be.”
“Not at all. You just don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
Lena moved her head in slightly. “Try me,” she whispered, shivering.
And that was it. The line that had been drawn between them, between what they’d been before, and what they could be now, was gone. There was no more hesitation, no more running away from what they both wanted.
Kara’s lips instantly met Lena’s. Supple, almost impossibly so, and warm, like fresh bread straight from the oven. It was so gentle, so… safe, that Lena’s brain short-circuited. Who even compares kisses to bread? Me, apparently. But then Kara tilted her head, deepening the kiss, and Lena stopped thinking altogether.
Kara tasted like marshmallows and hot chocolate, like winter mornings Lena had never had but always dreamed about. Her hands firmly rested on Lena’s waist, and Lena couldn’t resist tangling her fingers in Kara’s hair. Of course, it was soft, thick, and just messy enough to make her seem human, though Lena wasn’t entirely sure she was.
When they finally broke apart, Kara’s eyes were wide, her lips swollen, cheeks pink. “Wow,” Kara whispered, utterly dazed.
“You’ve really got a way with words.” Lena added.
Kara grinned sheepishly. “I think you broke my brain.”
“Funny,” Lena quipped, her voice dry even as her heart raced, “because I’m the one forgetting how to breathe.”
She could feel herself falling, faster than she’d ever imagined possible. It wasn’t like a slow descent, more like gravity itself had decided to speed things up, dragging her in deeper with every passing second. She closed her eyes, letting herself fall forward, into Kara’s arms, the only place that felt right.
Kara wasn’t James. She wasn’t what Lena had thought she needed. But try telling that to Lena’s stupid heart, which had somehow decided a long time ago.
And, you know what? Maybe it wasn’t so stupid after all.