Slushy

The Slushy Part 2
By NURV CANADA

--

"Clark would never trust me with that." Just who was he trying to convince?

"I know. That's were I failed as a friend. If you give me a chance I'll tell you everything. I should have that morning. I promised you that I would. I could have kept you in my life if I had."

This is all very r-

"NO!" Whitney shouted and ran past Clark. He approached the stairwell door and reached for it when Clark's hands grasped him and spun him around. "Go away! Just Fade away!"

"You can't just ignore this, Whitney. I don't know what you're running from or why you don't believe I'm real, but I am! Could I touch you if I wasn't."

This is all very r-

"Clark Kent hates me, has every right to hate me."

"Because you were in love with him? With me?"

"Yes," Whitney said simply and slipped through Clark's grasp, falling to the ground.

Clark looked down at him for a moment, then crouched. He cupped Whitney's chin and forced the older boy to meet his eyes.

"'Your skin is the loveliest shade of holiness that anything this side of heave has produced and your gaze speaks volumes of your anguish. You are the paragon of which all other immortals should be cast and your lips are where I wish to die. Without your presence in my days I would wither and prefer to be nothing left alive. I would rather rot and decay than be extant to long for something of which I cannot have.'"

Whitney couldn't believe it. "Ken Jerret Tolkam. The poems. The flowers. How'd you-"

"Because I'm Ken, Whitney. Mix around the letters. You get my name."

Whitney frowned. "But the 'J'…"

Clark stood up. "Stands for Jerome. My grandfather's name." He offered his hand to Whitney.

This is all very real.

"Oh, God," he breathed. He took Clark's outstretched hand and for the first time noticed just how wet they both were. The hand in his was warm and gentle, just how he remembered Clark.

Jesus.

The rain was running in his eyes and he had to get down to his apartment, but there were so many things that came first, that had to come first.

"You- You don't hate me?"

Clark smiled softly and it hit Whitney just how much he'd missed that smile. He wanted in his gut to see the grin, the bright, killer grin that had once long ago haunted his every wish.

"I could never hate you. I thought you hated me."

And there was a fear he'd once held so deeply that it now brought stinging tears to his eyes. How could Clark have ever thought that Whitney could have hated him. Whitney would do anything for the boy, anything.

"I could never hate you either," he whispered. "I love you more and more each second that I know you exist. Your arms are the only home I've known since you pulled me out of that damned river. I know that in so many ways you've given me life, you've given me an outlook and a dream to live towards."

"Oh, Whitney," Clark breathed. "I love you so much."

Whitney grabbed the wool coat and pulled. The boy came easily enough and their lips met even in the slippery rain. They opened to each other with moans in their throats and a heat in their hearts.

After a moment, Whitney pulled away, gasping for air. "I… love you… too," he said.

"Oh, man," laughed Clark. "We're so fucking stupid, Whitney. Why couldn't we have done this three months ago?"

"Try almost two years ago. I loved you all this time."

Clark sighed. "I… me, too." Clark buried his face in Whitney's neck. "Me, too. God, you smell so damned good, Whitney. I missed everything about you."
The rain was starting to drain out his senses, so he opened Clark's coat to find it dry and warm beneath a waterproof lining. He took a whiff and smelled… Chloe.

"What the- Did you come to the city with Chloe?"

Clark laughed. "Yeah. Spring break. She convinced me to buy some new clothes. She's been helping me find you. She knows all about my feelings for you."

"She didn't come here tonight, did she?"

"No, no. I needed to do this alone." Clark pulled away. "That reminds me!" He pulled Whitney behind him as he opened the stairwell door and moved inside. They let the door close behind them and Clark bent down. "I want to show you this."

He unzipped a lunchbag and handed it to Whitney who opened the top. Inside was a familiar looking Styrofoam cup, dirty and damaged with a straw bent straw and a cracked lid.

"The slushy?"

"Well, it's empty," he grinned. "-but it's the same cup. I don’t know why but I kept it. I couldn't bring myself to throw it out until I was sure we were okay again. When you left I put it in my closet. A month ago I found it by accident. I put it on top of my desk to remind myself to find you. To never stop until I did."

"It only took you a month?"

"And three days. I know the slushy thing is stupid, but-"

"I wear the clothes you lent me," he blurted out. He couldn't let Clark think his sentimentalism was stupid. "I tried to send them back but I couldn't. Literally. The first time the driver got a flat tire a mile out. The second time Sam just plain forgot and, well, Sam never forgets. The third time the errand boy turned out to be one of those oddities that Smallville seems to produce. I was three days from leaving and decided to take them out myself. I drove to your house and saw Martha driving away. I saw John in the fields. It was a school hour, so I figured I could get in, drop off the clothes and be gone. But there you were, sitting on the porch. Like you were waiting for something."

"The plumbing broke inside the house," started Clark. "We couldn't afford another visit from the plumber, especially since Mr. Kastin's son has taken over the business. My mom picked my up from school dropped me off and told me to wait for my father and then went to pick up the supplies."

"How could you remember that? I mean it could have been another day-"

"I heard and saw your car."

Whitney was confused. He'd been a long distance away and hidden from sight. "How cou-"

"Alien, remember."

Actually Whitney hadn't.

"So you saw me a couldn't drop them off?"

Whitney nodded. "Right, right. And after that I thought it wouldn't hurt anybody to keep a sort of Kent -souvenir."

"What did you do with them?"

He looked to the side. "I sleep in them mostly. The jeans, too, but not the shoes. I wear those out. I wear all of them out sometimes." His voice cracked as he realized his mistake. "I never would have been able to get over you. Never."

Clark pulled him in tighter. "I never would have gotten over you either, Whitney. There's nothing on this Earth that could have eased the pain of losing you."

Whitney looked up at him, about to apologize.

"Except for getting you back." Clark kissed him sweetly and then pulled away again.

"I want more of that," Whitney said.

"Well," Clark grinned and Whitney's heartbeat skyrocketed. "Lets go down to your apartment and see if I can get you to wake up naked in my arms again."

Whitney felt that in his groin.

"Only this time I'm not letting you go anywhere."

Whitney grinned. "Like I'd want to."

FIN