[ there's no one who smiles at her like that but clark kent, and if she'd thought that this might be some kind of ruse, some sick joke, his smile and subsequent concern go a long way to convincing her that it's him. it's really him. alive.
she lets him lead her to the bench, sitting down, never once taking her eyes off him the entire time. ]
There's no good way to say this -
[ there isn't. even just the thought of saying it aloud makes her feel dead inside, which is a little ironic, considering. ]
You're dead. [ she laughs, a short-lived thing that can't seem to decide whether to be joyful or bitter. he's here, and that's wonderful. she wants to bury her face in his neck and wrap her arms around him and never let go. at the same time, the pain of losing him is still all too real, too fresh. ] I'm guessing you don't remember that.
no subject
she lets him lead her to the bench, sitting down, never once taking her eyes off him the entire time. ]
There's no good way to say this -
[ there isn't. even just the thought of saying it aloud makes her feel dead inside, which is a little ironic, considering. ]
You're dead. [ she laughs, a short-lived thing that can't seem to decide whether to be joyful or bitter. he's here, and that's wonderful. she wants to bury her face in his neck and wrap her arms around him and never let go. at the same time, the pain of losing him is still all too real, too fresh. ] I'm guessing you don't remember that.