Author: Phoenixnz
Title: Oblivion
Genre: Angst (birthday blues)
Characters: Clark, Lex
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, but really wish I did
Spoilers: Sort of season two, but fairly vague
Summary: It's almost Clark's sixteenth birthday and he's feeling depressed. He finds a solution to his depression.
a/n: I wrote this in a state of depression. So I was feeling a lot like Clark is in this story. If you'll look at my profile you will know why. But thanks to some great friends of mine, some of whom are on this site, and to writing this story, I felt a whole lot better. Anyway, I just thought I would share this with you. But I have to warn you. Clark does something in this that I would never condone, and a teenage boy here in NZ recently died from doing what Clark does. Good thing Clark's got super-powers. Oh, and he and Lex are only ever friends in this story.
Clark threw down his pack in disgust and flopped down on the old sofa, sending up a cloud of dust in his wake.
It had been the day from hell. Chloe wasn’t speaking to him. Pete was treating him like he had mono or something. And Lana ... god, Lana. To top it off, he’d had a fight with his parents this morning. It just seemed like he couldn’t do anything right lately. With any of them.
Even Lex, his best friend, was too busy to talk to him. After everything that had happened with Lionel, and the wedding preparations, Lex just wasn’t there for him.
Clark wanted to cry. But sixteen year old boys (well almost sixteen) don’t cry.
He sighed, closing his eyes. In two days it was his birthday. And it just made him more depressed. He was still treated like a geek at school. His parents didn’t understand him. His best friends didn’t understand him. Nobody really knew him.
It just wasn’t fair. Just when he’d thought things were going okay with Lana, something blew up in their faces and they were on the outs again. God, it was like a rollercoaster with all their ups and downs. He just didn’t know what to do any more. And Lex was too caught up in his wedding to Helen to be of any help there.
The thing was, around Lana, he could feel normal. Well, quasi-normal. As normal as he could feel, he guessed, given the circumstances..
His parents tried to understand. But the fact was, they could never understand. And no matter how many platitudes his father spouted, like how ‘every teenager goes through this phase’, Jonathan Kent would never really know what it was like to be different. To be someone who didn’t fit in anywhere.
He knew what Chloe would say. That is, if she was speaking to him. “Buck up Clarkbar,” she’d say. And Pete would make fun of him – in a friends sort of way.
The powers were the worst part. Every time he developed a new ability, it just served as a reminder that he wasn’t ‘one of them’.
Lex was probably the closest to being as different, and thus able to understand what he was going through. But Clark always felt guilty every time he saw the evidence of his landing on Earth in his friend. Lex’s baldness was just another reminder of what he’d done.
He sometimes thought about telling Lex the truth about himself. But he couldn’t face the thought of Lex looking at him with blame in his eyes. And Clark was afraid to tell the truth. He knew Lex would never betray him, or put him in a lab to be studied. Lionel, on the other hand, was perfectly capable of doing such a thing.
And it wasn’t just that. If he told Lex the truth, what were the chances that Lex would reject him?
Sometimes he just wanted to make it all go away.
Clark wanted oblivion. Even for just a little while. He wanted to close his eyes and forget the world existed. Or pretend that he didn’t exist. And really, would anyone miss him?
His parents’ lives would be so much easier if he wasn’t around. They wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells. They wouldn’t have to worry about keeping things secret. Wouldn’t have to worry about government scientists, or the likes of Lionel Luthor.
He regretted, sometimes, having watched his parents struggle, what he put them through. And he wondered if he’d been ‘normal’ whether it would have made it easier for them.
Fighting back tears, brushing the one tear that had dared to escape off his face, he got up from the sofa and went to the desk, pulling out the drawer and staring down at the small lead box.
Opening it, Clark grimaced, watching the veins in his hand almost pop as his skin began to turn a sickly colour. Clark swallowed down the nausea, reaching over, feeling his stomach cramping. But the preservation instinct was strong and he dropped the rock almost as soon as he tried to pick it up.
“Clark?”
Jonathan Kent called from the bottom of the stairs. Clark stayed where he was, breathing hard. He sniffed, wiping hi s nose on the arm of his shirt. Sighing, he closed the lid of the box and then the drawer.
“Yeah, Dad,” he called.
“Your mother and I are going into town.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t forget your chores.”
“Yes sir.”
“And your homework.”
“Yes sir.”
He waited until he heard the truck start up, then looked at the desk. But he knew it wouldn’t help. He wouldn’t find oblivion that way.
Sighing, he started to unpack his books, but he couldn’t concentrate on his work. He was too depressed.
Clark decided to go into the house for a snack. Standing at the pantry door, he stared into space as if that would provide the answers he was looking for. It was then he spotted it. Well, them, really.
Bottles of bourbon. Jonathan usually drank beer, but on the very odd occasion, he liked a little bit of bourbon. It had got him into trouble a couple of times. Especially with Martha.
Clark eyed the bottle, feeling a little like Alice in Wonderland, the character from the book he’d been made to read in grade school. The bottle just seemed to be whispering “Drink Me”.
Clark grabbed the bottle. And the full one next to it, then grabbed a cup from the shelf.
He poured a little of the liquid into the cup. It smelled god-awful. He tipped the cup and sipped, making a face.
“Gargh.” It tasted as bad as it smelled and it burned going down. He wondered if he had any tolerance to alcohol. Maybe he would find out.
Screwing up his face, Clark stared at the liquid in the cup, then toasted himself.
“Bottoms up,” he said. He drank the rest, shuddering grimly.
By the third cup, it was burning less, but he really was beginning to feel like Alice. And it was clear that he had very little tolerance to alcohol. Maybe it was something he would grow into, like his other powers.
By the time he finished the bottle, Clark was like a hippy on an acid trip. He was singing to himself and giggling madly. His vision was swimming. But the alcohol was tasting waaay better.
Halfway through the second bottle, he was on his ass on the floor, when two pairs of feet appeared in front of him. Feet encased in very expensive leather.
Clark looked up, giggling again, at the bald countenance of his best friend. Two best friends. There were two Lex’s standing in front of him.
“Heyyy Lex, did you know you got an evil twin?”
“Clark, what the hell are you doing? Are you drunk?”
“Um, nooo!”
“How much have you drunk?”
Clark held up his hand, staring in fascination at the fingers waving in the air, trying to count.
“Ah, one, two, um, what was the question?”
Lex bent down, looking at him with a concerned expression. Or maybe that was just an alcohol-induced hallucination.
“Clark are you crazy? You could kill yourself if you drink too much of this.”
Clark shook his head. “Noo, can’t,” he said. “I’m an exra .... eshra .... um, I’m an ali...um, I’m a freak.”
Lex sighed. “Clark, everyone thinks that when they’re a teenager.”
“But it’s tru-u-ue.”
Lex stood up. “Clark I’m going to call a doctor. You need your stomach pumped.”
Clark tried to rise up in panic. “Nooo, you can’t call a doctor. Mom and Dad’ll kill me.”
“That’s if you haven’t killed yourself already,” Lex stated flatly.
Clark tried moving on his knees to stop Lex as his friend went to pick up the phone. But the room began spinning.
Clark retched. It almost felt like he’d swallowed a meteor rock.
“Don’t you dare, Kent.”
Clark had no idea what Lex was talking about, but suddenly his head was shoved into a bucket. His stomach heaved. And heaved. And heaved.
And just like that, Clark sank into oblivion. Peace at last, he thought.
Title: Oblivion
Genre: Angst (birthday blues)
Characters: Clark, Lex
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, but really wish I did
Spoilers: Sort of season two, but fairly vague
Summary: It's almost Clark's sixteenth birthday and he's feeling depressed. He finds a solution to his depression.
a/n: I wrote this in a state of depression. So I was feeling a lot like Clark is in this story. If you'll look at my profile you will know why. But thanks to some great friends of mine, some of whom are on this site, and to writing this story, I felt a whole lot better. Anyway, I just thought I would share this with you. But I have to warn you. Clark does something in this that I would never condone, and a teenage boy here in NZ recently died from doing what Clark does. Good thing Clark's got super-powers. Oh, and he and Lex are only ever friends in this story.
Clark threw down his pack in disgust and flopped down on the old sofa, sending up a cloud of dust in his wake.
It had been the day from hell. Chloe wasn’t speaking to him. Pete was treating him like he had mono or something. And Lana ... god, Lana. To top it off, he’d had a fight with his parents this morning. It just seemed like he couldn’t do anything right lately. With any of them.
Even Lex, his best friend, was too busy to talk to him. After everything that had happened with Lionel, and the wedding preparations, Lex just wasn’t there for him.
Clark wanted to cry. But sixteen year old boys (well almost sixteen) don’t cry.
He sighed, closing his eyes. In two days it was his birthday. And it just made him more depressed. He was still treated like a geek at school. His parents didn’t understand him. His best friends didn’t understand him. Nobody really knew him.
It just wasn’t fair. Just when he’d thought things were going okay with Lana, something blew up in their faces and they were on the outs again. God, it was like a rollercoaster with all their ups and downs. He just didn’t know what to do any more. And Lex was too caught up in his wedding to Helen to be of any help there.
The thing was, around Lana, he could feel normal. Well, quasi-normal. As normal as he could feel, he guessed, given the circumstances..
His parents tried to understand. But the fact was, they could never understand. And no matter how many platitudes his father spouted, like how ‘every teenager goes through this phase’, Jonathan Kent would never really know what it was like to be different. To be someone who didn’t fit in anywhere.
He knew what Chloe would say. That is, if she was speaking to him. “Buck up Clarkbar,” she’d say. And Pete would make fun of him – in a friends sort of way.
The powers were the worst part. Every time he developed a new ability, it just served as a reminder that he wasn’t ‘one of them’.
Lex was probably the closest to being as different, and thus able to understand what he was going through. But Clark always felt guilty every time he saw the evidence of his landing on Earth in his friend. Lex’s baldness was just another reminder of what he’d done.
He sometimes thought about telling Lex the truth about himself. But he couldn’t face the thought of Lex looking at him with blame in his eyes. And Clark was afraid to tell the truth. He knew Lex would never betray him, or put him in a lab to be studied. Lionel, on the other hand, was perfectly capable of doing such a thing.
And it wasn’t just that. If he told Lex the truth, what were the chances that Lex would reject him?
Sometimes he just wanted to make it all go away.
Clark wanted oblivion. Even for just a little while. He wanted to close his eyes and forget the world existed. Or pretend that he didn’t exist. And really, would anyone miss him?
His parents’ lives would be so much easier if he wasn’t around. They wouldn’t have to walk on eggshells. They wouldn’t have to worry about keeping things secret. Wouldn’t have to worry about government scientists, or the likes of Lionel Luthor.
He regretted, sometimes, having watched his parents struggle, what he put them through. And he wondered if he’d been ‘normal’ whether it would have made it easier for them.
Fighting back tears, brushing the one tear that had dared to escape off his face, he got up from the sofa and went to the desk, pulling out the drawer and staring down at the small lead box.
Opening it, Clark grimaced, watching the veins in his hand almost pop as his skin began to turn a sickly colour. Clark swallowed down the nausea, reaching over, feeling his stomach cramping. But the preservation instinct was strong and he dropped the rock almost as soon as he tried to pick it up.
“Clark?”
Jonathan Kent called from the bottom of the stairs. Clark stayed where he was, breathing hard. He sniffed, wiping hi s nose on the arm of his shirt. Sighing, he closed the lid of the box and then the drawer.
“Yeah, Dad,” he called.
“Your mother and I are going into town.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t forget your chores.”
“Yes sir.”
“And your homework.”
“Yes sir.”
He waited until he heard the truck start up, then looked at the desk. But he knew it wouldn’t help. He wouldn’t find oblivion that way.
Sighing, he started to unpack his books, but he couldn’t concentrate on his work. He was too depressed.
Clark decided to go into the house for a snack. Standing at the pantry door, he stared into space as if that would provide the answers he was looking for. It was then he spotted it. Well, them, really.
Bottles of bourbon. Jonathan usually drank beer, but on the very odd occasion, he liked a little bit of bourbon. It had got him into trouble a couple of times. Especially with Martha.
Clark eyed the bottle, feeling a little like Alice in Wonderland, the character from the book he’d been made to read in grade school. The bottle just seemed to be whispering “Drink Me”.
Clark grabbed the bottle. And the full one next to it, then grabbed a cup from the shelf.
He poured a little of the liquid into the cup. It smelled god-awful. He tipped the cup and sipped, making a face.
“Gargh.” It tasted as bad as it smelled and it burned going down. He wondered if he had any tolerance to alcohol. Maybe he would find out.
Screwing up his face, Clark stared at the liquid in the cup, then toasted himself.
“Bottoms up,” he said. He drank the rest, shuddering grimly.
By the third cup, it was burning less, but he really was beginning to feel like Alice. And it was clear that he had very little tolerance to alcohol. Maybe it was something he would grow into, like his other powers.
By the time he finished the bottle, Clark was like a hippy on an acid trip. He was singing to himself and giggling madly. His vision was swimming. But the alcohol was tasting waaay better.
Halfway through the second bottle, he was on his ass on the floor, when two pairs of feet appeared in front of him. Feet encased in very expensive leather.
Clark looked up, giggling again, at the bald countenance of his best friend. Two best friends. There were two Lex’s standing in front of him.
“Heyyy Lex, did you know you got an evil twin?”
“Clark, what the hell are you doing? Are you drunk?”
“Um, nooo!”
“How much have you drunk?”
Clark held up his hand, staring in fascination at the fingers waving in the air, trying to count.
“Ah, one, two, um, what was the question?”
Lex bent down, looking at him with a concerned expression. Or maybe that was just an alcohol-induced hallucination.
“Clark are you crazy? You could kill yourself if you drink too much of this.”
Clark shook his head. “Noo, can’t,” he said. “I’m an exra .... eshra .... um, I’m an ali...um, I’m a freak.”
Lex sighed. “Clark, everyone thinks that when they’re a teenager.”
“But it’s tru-u-ue.”
Lex stood up. “Clark I’m going to call a doctor. You need your stomach pumped.”
Clark tried to rise up in panic. “Nooo, you can’t call a doctor. Mom and Dad’ll kill me.”
“That’s if you haven’t killed yourself already,” Lex stated flatly.
Clark tried moving on his knees to stop Lex as his friend went to pick up the phone. But the room began spinning.
Clark retched. It almost felt like he’d swallowed a meteor rock.
“Don’t you dare, Kent.”
Clark had no idea what Lex was talking about, but suddenly his head was shoved into a bucket. His stomach heaved. And heaved. And heaved.
And just like that, Clark sank into oblivion. Peace at last, he thought.
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