Walk Away: Jet Set Satellite
It was the hardest thing he had ever done.
More frightening than leaving his mother on the farm and heading off to Metropolis with only himself to rely on. Harder than learning to fly. More painful than discovering his vulnerability to kryponite. As agonizing as his father's death had been, though in a different way.
Leaving Lois behind had nearly broken him. If he'd had to say "good-bye", he couldn't have gone. He had let his hands and body speak for him as his mouth couldn't, and everything that he'd been taught was a sin had only been exquisite, and yet so excruciatingly bitter-sweet, because the first time was the last time and might be the only time.
He owed her more. He wanted to give her more. And yet he didn't feel that he had a choice. There were things that were bigger than two hearts that beat almost-but-not-quite in sync.
It had been the hardest thing he had ever done. And it might have been the wrong thing. But it was too late now to take it back.
He should have said "good-bye" though.
That was something that he would always regret.
"I'm sorry, Lois."
So Long Superman: John Ottman
He wasn't coming back.
It had taken her over a month to come to this conclusion; longer than it had taken the rest of the world. There had been rumors building to an outcry in many different languages, saying that he was gone, the Man of Steel had deserted them, that he wasn't coming back.
But it wasn't until the first real disaster -- an earthquake in Tokyo with thousands dead and more wounded -- with no sign of Superman to stop it happening, to rescue the trapped, or even to help with the clean-up efforts that it really began to filter through. He really was gone, like they were saying. And he might not be coming back.
It wasn't any longer about that awkward morning after and the fact that they hadn't yet had one, the fact that she hadn't seen him since "that" night. He wasn't just avoiding her. He was really gone. He had left. He had left her and he had left the world.
It had taken her longer to realize this than it had taken the rest of the world. But it hit her harder. Because she had thought, she had known, that there was something between them. Something special. Something that had been just for the two of them, that no one else could share.
It hadn't been enough to keep him by her side, however.
By the time half a year was gone, she knew that he wasn't coming back. He really wasn't. Wherever he had gone, and for whatever reason, he wasn't coming back.
It might have hurt more if she hadn't had other things on her mind. There was a new love in her heart and a new life growing inside her.
It was impossible to move on, and yet it was the only thing that she could do
So it was what she did. She moved on.
Introduction: namco (We ♥ Katamari score)
The hospital was sterile, sanitary, everything gleaming in white and chrome. It couldn't help but appear impersonal; an impression that was heightened by the way that no one made eye contact. Not the nurses, not the doctors, not the patients, not the friends and family visiting the patients....
It always seemed to him to be wrong, that a child was brought into the world in the same place that people came when they were sick or injured, where they came to die. Though, he supposed it might be opposing sides to the same coin, if one looked at it that way.
He was really only feeling philosophical out of nerves, overanalyzing things to try and keep his mind off the way he had almost lost them both.
Things were all right now, the mother and child out of danger, and life could go on. He could breathe again. But it had frightened him, caused unfocused panic to course through his veins, and he was having trouble shaking the after effects.
She was sleeping now. Exhausted by the ordeal, face drawn and paper white against the pastel blue sheets. He wanted to hold her hand, ring her wrist with his fingers, feel her pulse against his flesh, steady and reassuring. But he didn't dare disturb her. She needed the rest.
And here was the nurse, one who not only made eye contact, but gave him a bright smile. And in her arms, that precious bundle.
He'd held babies before, knew how to handle them, was familiar with the scent and the warmth and the small noises.
But it had never been like this before.
Accepting the blanket-wrapped body from her, he cradled it close. His son. Their child. Here and safe and healthy and breathing softly.
The nurse vanished and his world narrowed down to that small, round face, still flushed but already the second most beautiful thing he had seen in his life. He pressed a light kiss to the warmth of that thick, dark hair, inhaling the sweet scent of newborn scalp. The reality was almost too much to handle and his heart swelled until he felt physical pain, until he thought it might burst in his chest.
Thick lashes flickered, and he held his breath, watching as his son opened his eyes, meeting his gaze for the first time.
Those incredible blue eyes fixed on his and he knew.
That tiny mouth opened in a wide pink yawn and he held him close, cuddling him against the beat of his heart. His child. His son.
Personal Jesus: Depeche Mode
It wasn't until he was gone that she realized how she had taken him for granted.
He'd always been there, whenever she got into trouble, whenever she needed him. Ready to catch her and help put the pieces back together without even being asked.
He'd always known what she needed without her having to ask. He'd been there for their son, had staged interventions for her at work, had stayed home, had gone out, had made reservations, had arranged repairs and meals, and just generally kept track of all the "real" things that came with supporting a family while she was off pursuing the stories that made her a "name" in both the reporting field and the private sector.
She'd been looking to the sky for so long -- even after she had thought that she'd given up hope -- that she didn't realize she was missing all the most important things here on the earth.
She didn't realize it, that was, until it was gone. And by then it was too late.
When her son asked where his father was and she didn't know how to answer, because there was the truth, and there was the truth, and when would he be old enough to know them both?
When her son asked her where dinner was, and she thought, "it's not my turn to cook", before realizing that there were no more shared duties, and she had to rush to order take-out, because she'd always thought of herself as being a good mother who took care of her child.
When she couldn't find her leather laptop case, or the number for their dry cleaner, or the diamond brooch that had been an anniversary gift, and she knew that she couldn't ask him, knew that he could have told her....
By then it was too late. He was a good man, and she had only used him as a placeholder, even though she hadn't known it at the time.
And now it was too late. She's been the one to push him away, to send him out of her life. Things had changed, and she'd thought it was the right thing to do. Now she wasn't so sure, but she couldn't take it back.
And how was she going to live the rest of her life without him?
Dawn: Stabbing Westward
It was only in losing everything that he had found what he hadn't known he had lost.
He'd never believed in destiny, had wanted to believe that he was forging his own path through life. Fate was a word that filled his mind with irony.
They had so much in common, and that was the thing that should have driven them apart, made them enemies, or at least rivals.
And yet, that was not to way it had worked.
There was a woman. They had both loved her, and yet neither one could have her.
There was a child. He belonged to both of them, and they both had equal claim on him.
The smiliarities did not end there, but those were the most essential points. They could not share, even if the desire was there, because there were more hearts involved than just their two. But they could understand, and it was from this seed of understanding that friendship grew and flowered, blossoming into desire and, eventually, amazingly, love.
It wasn't something they could have expected. Nothing that either had wanted or pursued. But once realized it was precious, perfect, and something that neither could turn his back on.
He still didn't believe in destiny. But something had forced them together, had guided them into an understanding, had led them into love.
And he would have been stupid to turn his back, to walk away from what they had.
He'd turned his back on love before, and could never get back what he had lost. He wouldn't make that same mistake again. There was so much here that he couldn't bare to lose.
Those blue eyes. That wide white smile. The face, the heart, that had come to mean so much to him.
He might not believe in destiny, but that didn't mean that he wouldn't accept what it placed in his path.