#rennwrites

[saw3amanda]

miss missing you (now and then)

Clark collapsed against a parapet, catching his breath. Technically speaking, Clark never had to catch his breath, but it was nice to sit after the exertion of going up against Luthor. Luckily, there had been no kryptonite involved, but Clark had called in Batman just in case and wasn’t complaining about the extra help.

“You alright?” A modulated voice rumbled next to him.

Clark looked over to see Batman leaning against the short wall a few feet away from him. The two had only been working together for a short year (after a few very tense weeks of getting to know each other), and it was nice to know that Batman cared enough to ask.

“Yeah, just tired, I guess. Didn’t get much sleep last night.” Clark replied, getting to his feet and looking out at Metropolis from his vantage point. They were standing atop a dilapidated building, half destroyed and condemned from some battle months ago. The sun was just starting to set, streaking across the sky in yellow and gold, and the air was beginning to cool. Clark could feel the last rays of sunlight stretching to meet him.

Batman made a brief, inquisitive noise, and Clark had to play back their conversation to remember what he had said. 

“Oh, just had uncomfortable dreams, I guess. Not very conducive to a good night’s rest.” He laughed gently.

“Hm.”

Clark looked over and saw Batman still staring at him, as if he was waiting for him to continue. 

This was new, the active interest in each other’s lives. For the majority of their relationship, they contacted each other out of necessity. Clark’s comm would only ping in emergencies, when Batman had too much to handle (not that he would admit that), or he had new information for a case. But in months, they had started lingering when the battle was over. One of them would escort the other back to their respective city, carrying on a conversation in soft tones, or they would take a moment to recuperate with the other close by. Clark was never one to allow silence to reign for long, and he drew Batman into conversation again and again. When the recap of the mission had dwindled, Clark would start talking about anecdotes from his day, or point out areas he’d explored in his city. Batman eventually graduated from mumbled sounds of agreement to full sentences. 

It still managed to surprise him when Batman seemed interested in what he had to say instead of tolerating it, but he was beginning to appreciate their fledgling friendship. A bit too much, if he was honest. These inconvenient feelings kept cropping up, but Clark had gotten well versed in choking them down. So, if Batman wanted to continue talking, Clark certainly wouldn’t stop it. 

“Do you ever dream about someone you shouldn’t?” Clark asked, staring off at the city skyline. 

He could hear Batman walk closer and stand beside him, facing out just as Clark was.

“No.”

“Yeah, I guess not. I can’t even imagine you dreaming. You just stoically fall asleep, wake up two hours later, and you’re set, right?”

A muffled noise of amusement came from his right, and Clark had to stifle a grin.

“Exactly.”

“Well, for the rest of us,” Clark’s smile faded. “Dreaming can be more trouble than it’s worth.”

Clark allowed a warm quiet to blanket the moment, and reveled in it. 

“Who was it?” Batman asked. Clark almost jumped at his gravelly voice breaking the silence. 

Clark debated his next words. He could be honest, like he desperately wanted to be. He could feel the words swimming around his lungs, jumping through his veins as they had all day. But how much would be too much? What could he give away about himself and still feel confident in his secret identity? 

He could trust Batman; he knew this. They were in the exact same position, and he knew that if he asked, Batman wouldn’t dig too much into it. Besides, honesty was the foundation of any good friendship and he did want to talk about this.

“You’re gonna laugh,” Clark chuckled weakly, nerves roiling in his stomach, just like they did whenever he talked about him. “But, Bruce Wayne.”

A weird, hacking sound started, and Clark looked around to see where it was coming from. He turned to Batman to see the man furiously coughing into his elbow. He would laugh at how strangled the cough had sounded through the modulator, but he was more worried than anything at the moment. 

“Are you ok?” He said hurriedly.

“Fine.” Batman said as he straightened up and looked back over to Clark. He cleared his throat one last time. “Bruce Wayne?”

Clark felt his blood rise to his cheeks in a light flush and scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah, we actually一” Clark paused and made a quick decision. “I'm going to tell you something because I trust you not to look into it. I know you well enough that you wouldn't compromise my identity.”

He looked over, and Batman nodded, a slight smile on his lips. Clark threw a nervous grin back, and took a deep breath.

“Back in high school, Bruce and I…dated.” Clark said. He wanted to turn to Batman to see his reaction, but stared resolutely at the fading sun. “He had moved to my town to get out of the city, and we just clicked .”

Batman hummed a short, contemplative noise and Clark continued.

“We were together for a good while actually. Of course we weren't out to anyone but a select few, but we still made it work.” Clark said with a wry turn of his lips.

“What happened?” Batman asked, his voice as soft as the modulator would allow.

Clark let out a sigh. He had told this story so many times that he almost had a script for it. But this wasn’t just anyone asking about his first love. He didn’t have to run his normal lines. 

“He left. Isn’t that always how it always goes?”

Clark finally glanced over at Batman, who was looking down at his folded hands on the parapet ledge. The gloved fingers interlapped evenly, creating a neat pattern of shadows in the fading light. Batman finally turned to face him, and Clark couldn’t quite identify what the strange set of his mouth meant.

“So,” Batman cleared his throat. “The dream.”

Clark laughed a little, surprised.

“You are uncharacteristically interested in this, B.” He said, shaking his head.

Batman stayed silent, the whisper of gloved hands unfolding the only sound to be heard. He braced his hands on the ledge instead and Clark admired his flexed arms for a moment, then shook his head slightly. 

“It was nothing really that upsetting. He popped up as people do in dreams, and we just talked. We made fun of each other like we used to.” Clark sighed. “We actually apologized to each other too, I think.”

Clark let the melancholy of his hopeless dream wash over him for a moment. It hurt when he woke up not because it didn't happen, but because it would never have the chance to.

“You apologized?” Batman asked.

“Yeah, well, I've said and done some things after the break up that I'm not proud of. We met up twice afterwards, a year or two later and I just…fucked it up.” Clark replied. Shame flooded through him as he remembered every misstep he took after Bruce left. “I think I ruined any chance we had of building a friendship. Last time we talked, he essentially told me that we shouldn't anymore.”

Clark looked up and saw Batman turned to him. It was nice to say this aloud, he realized. 

“But it's ok, really. I don't blame him and it's probably better if we don't talk,” Clark continued. He felt like each word that slipped into the air between them carried a weight that had been released from his chest. He was lighter, despite the difficult topic. “It's just a shame, because I have so much I want to say to him. But I've made peace with the fact that I won't be able to.”

The last golden fingers of sunlight had faded into the horizon, and the two were trapped in the moment between night and day. It washed the city in purple, and Clark watched as street lamps flickered on.

Clark looked over to Batman and studied the way the shadows fell across his face. 

“I really appreciate you listening. I didn't realize一” 

“What would you say to him?” Batman interrupted. The words seemed to rush out of him, like they couldn't get out fast enough. “If you could see him, what would you say?”

Clark hummed thoughtfully. He didn't understand Batman's urgency, but the moment felt important somehow. He knew he needed to word what he said next correctly, because he wouldn't be able to take them back.

“I would tell him that I still think of him when I listen to Fall Out Boy, which is a shame because they're all I've been listening to for the past week,” Clark started. “He used to love them. I actually learned the words to Sugar, We're Going Down to impress him. 

“I would ask if we could just forget these past few years. If we could just pretend we haven't talked since we broke up.  I have made so many mistakes, and I've fucked up so, so many times. And I'm sorry.”

Clark took a breath before continuing, chest stretching the fabric of his uniform tight as he inhaled.

“I would tell him that I've dated four people in my life, and he was the only one I ever loved. I have been chasing that feeling for years, and he did it without even trying. And sometimes, I even miss the heartbreak. I miss feeling that strongly about someone. We fit together in a way that I've never experienced before or since, and goddamn if that doesn't make me angry. Goddamn if I didn't wish I loved someone like I loved him.

“And I wouldn't say this because I still wanted him. I wouldn't say this because I missed him. I'm not even sure if I do, to be honest. I certainly miss what we had, and even the people we used to be. But maybe the person I miss isn't so different from the person he is now. The point, if I ever said this, is that I still think about him sometimes. It's that he still pops up in my dreams every so often, and that he used to make me incandescently happy.”

Clark laughed, a short bitter thing. He looked down at his hands gripping the concrete of the parapet, cracks beginning to spread through the stone. Batman stayed silent.

“I wish I didn't fuck up for years just because I missed him, and I wish I didn't ruin the friendship we could've had.” Clark said softly. He finally turned to Batman. “But wishing never did anything.”

Batman stared at Clark, and for once, Clark wished desperately to see his face. To see his reaction, because reading his emotions through the turn of his lips wasn't enough. 

Clark suddenly felt exposed under the rising moon. He had said too much; he had been too honest. Batman and him had just started to be friends, and here Clark goes, whining about a love long ago.

He coughed, trying to ease the embarrassment in his chest.

“Anyway, it doesn't matter much now.” He said into the stillness of the air.

“It does.”

Clark threw on a weak grin.

“That’s nice of you, B, but it’s ok. I’m alright with this.” He took a few steps back from the short wall, looking one last time at the glowing city lights. “It’s getting late. Thanks for your help today. And for listening.”

Clark scrubbed a hand down his face. He was exhausted. That had to be the reason he rambled incessantly to Batman. He began to rise slowly, feet only a few inches off the ground, when a gloved hand reached out and grabbed his forearm.

“B?”

“Clark, wait.” Batman said, looking directly into his eyes. Clark dropped instantly to the ground, boots scratching slightly against the concrete. 

“What did you say?” Clark asked with wide eyes. He could feel his hands start to shake.

Batman stepped closer with determination written on his lips.

“Clark, I’m sorry.”

He started to back away from Batman, each step unsteady. How did he know? How long has he known?

“How did you..” He said, voice shaking slightly. “How do you know my name?”

Batman didn’t answer. He started reaching behind his head with both hands and Clark barely registered the snick of a latch opening before he saw the cowl fall away.

“Clark,” Bruce Wayne said, standing in full Batman regalia. “I’m sorry.” 

[lunawrennpoetry]

did i get too close? did i feel just like home? 

https://www.instagram.com/rennwrites/

[rennwrites]

nightmare vol. 2

unconscious confusion

bound tightly to my core,

sweet dark illusion

leaving shadows at my door.

[saw3amanda]

“You really think this is going to work?” Adam whispered, too aware of the quiet tension in the air. He quirked a small, joking smile. “You’ll have to pretend you can actually stand the sight of me, you know.”

Lawrence simply gazed at Adam, a few scant inches between them and that same indecipherable look on his face.

“I don’t think that will be a problem.”

Lawrence is meeting with Ali after their divorce, but she's under the impression he wants to get back together. Adam helps out.

[saw3amanda]

a letter from the desk of Lawrence Gordon to Adam Faulkner-Stanheight

read below or on ao3

Dear Adam,

I have never been a man to write letters, especially not of this variety. Furthermore, if I were ever to give you this, I’m sure you would simply laugh.

So, this will remain mine.

To be frank, I’m not sure where to begin. Would it be seeing you in my hospital, your dirty sneakers a clear contrast to the clinically pristine floor? Would it be hearing you laugh for the first time (and, forgive me here, thankfully not the last) as you were taking pictures of the new wing for the local paper? Would it be when you bumped into me and spilled my coffee, then said you knew a great cafe around the corner that we could go to if I was free, just so you could make up for it?

Would it be when I said yes? Because even then, even that very first day, I knew you would be the best mistake of my life.

I could describe how I felt when you kissed me, in that dingy alley behind that dive bar you took me to weeks later. I could say how truly alive I felt, not because of the thrill of an affair or because you were a man, but because it was you.

But that would be admitting too much, wouldn’t it? Because that’s not something we talk about.

We argue, and spill secrets over your pillow in the afterglow. We fight, and we fuck, and fight some more. And we always come back together to do it all again.

But we’ve left so much unsaid. So let me say it now.

I never believed myself to be a man of passion. Marrying Ali was convenient. We were, for all intents and purposes, a good match. I was fond of her, and she was of me. I wanted a companion, was expected to have a companion. I was beginning a promising career and she wanted a comfortable life. It made sense, logically, and that was enough for me.

The operative word there is was.

I never believed I was a man of passion, but now I know I simply never had anything to be passionate about.

You occupy my waking thoughts, even innocuous ones. I find a new restaurant and imagine how the candlelight would flicker across your face over dinner at it. I see a photograph in the paper and wonder it would look if you took it. I lay down to sleep and wish your voice was spilling in the darkness, just as it does those rare nights we have together.

You make me want in ways I never have before. I want your terrible, worn sneakers next to my shoes by the door. I want you to meet Diana and to see how you would make her smile. I want your life entwined messily with mine, in ways I can’t even imagine yet.

I am dancing around saying what this means, but I think we both know.

I love you, Adam, and I am terrified that I’ll never be able to say it aloud. I am terrified that you would run if I did, because I know you would. I’m terrified that if I reveal what you mean to me, that you’ll leave.

I love you and it scares me too.

You’ve ruined my life, Adam, but goddamn you. I’m happy to let you wreck it.

Yours,

Lawrence

[saw3amanda]

“Lawrence, what the fuck are you doing here?” He sighed. He finally got the key into the lock and turned it with more force than was warranted. The door swung open, dim lighting from the hallway illuminating a few feet into the entryway. Adam stepped past the door frame and heard unsteady footsteps follow behind him.

“I…I don’t quite know,” Lawrence chuckled and stumbled so he was in front of Adam. “I was at the bar and then got a cab. And the only address I could remember was yours.”

Lawrence left Adam to fix things with Ali. He comes back months later, drunk on Adam's doorstep.

[saw3amanda]

There was no change in how Clark felt about Bruce at nineteen than he did when he was eight, except he has a name for it now. (The realization came as a warm molasses trickle throughout Clark when he was sixteen. There was no eureka! moment. Only a defining phrase, like Clark had finally figured out the name of a color he had seen all his life.)

After a disappointing trip to visit Bruce in college, Clark returns home, dejected. Bruce wants to rectify that.

read a snippet below!

Before the door creaked shut, Clark was already reaching for the center console. The green box sat patient, expectant, as he reached for it. Clark flipped the lid open and shut (open and shut) and he cast his eyes past grey cloth seats, a dead radio, and gum-wrappered cup holders until they fell upon a green plastic lighter.

Flipping the lid of the box one last time, Clark drew out a cigarette.

(Clark Kent had started smoking a year prior. It had begun at a dorm party, the LED-lit, crowded kind. He had been decently drunk, enough so that the beat of the music, which had once been a steady heartbeat, became suffocating. Clark had stumbled out of the room and through the outside door to soothe the heat-slick from his skin. Once in the crisp air, he noticed an acrid smell and turned to follow it. A girl with heavy eyeliner and red hair stood ten paces away from the door, her edges outlined by the yellow glow of a street lamp. She held a cigarette loosely between her fingers and took a drag.

Clark watched blue tendrils escape the glowing end, saw the line of the girl’s shoulders fall as she exhaled. He looked down to his trembling hands and rapidly rising chest, and made a split second decision.

“Mind if I bum one?” He asked, hoping he didn’t sound too naive. The girl gave a huff of a laugh. “First time, isn’t it?” She said, already reaching into her pocket and retrieving a sage and white box. “No one actually says that outside of movies.” She beckoned him closer, hand already outstretched with a cigarette. The orange glow softened her edges, shadows stretching, arm reaching as if to Adam. And Clark reached right back.)

Clark had rules about smoking, rules that he recited to himself as he lifted the papers to his mouth.

No more than five a week, he thought and grabbed his lighter from his dashboard.

No more than two a day, as he flicked and sparked the end of his cigarette.

Always keep hand sanitizer and gum near and he inhaled deeply.

He held the smoke deep in his chest and leaned back in his seat. Closing his eyes, he exhaled and tried to not shake too violently.

Two more inhale, exhale and then one more, and Clark let the cig hang from his mouth as he opened the car door again. A soft bump from the door sent his suitcase, which had been right outside of the drivers’ side, rolling gently. He stood up and looked around at the airport parking lot for a second, letting soft billows drift around his face, before opening his trunk and placing his case inside.

Clark was exhausted. He had been traveling for upwards of twelve hours (a flight, layover, and another flight filled with a copious amount of screaming infants) and had slept poorly the night before. Had slept in Bruce’s apartment , he thought, rotating the thought gently in his mind as one might do to a Rubik’s cube before solving it. Had slept on an air mattress on Bruce’s floor, and gazed at his limp hand falling over the side of the bed. Had foolishly, wantingly reached out to touch it, just once..

A sharp ringing sounded from inside of his car.

“Shit,” he mumbled around a mouthful. He had forgotten to call his mother when he landed, something she made him promise to do whenever he flew. He quickly dropped and stepped on his cigarette, reminding himself to pick it up after, and opened his car to find his phone.

It rumbled urgently in the passenger and Clark sighed, already anticipating putting on a cheery voice for his mother. The screen lit up once and flashed B.

Clark lit another cigarette and pressed decline.

[saw3amanda]

Adam was no stranger to this ever-expanding hole buried in his chest. It had cropped up in different periods of his life; the longest had eclipsed a good majority of his twenties. At first, he pretended he could fill it, that it was only temporary. He made himself believe he could fix it if he only dated the right girl, found the right job, took the perfect photograph. But eventually he gave in to it. He let it consume him until all he knew was wake up, waste time, eat (if he could afford it), and watch life pass him by.

Adam is struggling after the trap, but he's fine. He's been through this before.

[rennwrites]

nightmare vol. 1

pull me under night silk

wrap me up in twisted coil,

bath me in black poison

that burns and scars and boils.

[rennwrites]

unconditional

you can not hide from me

I see you in your darkness

and I will not conform to your self image,

to the image you gave everyone else.

Know this, silly boy

I will not hate you

I will not let you hate yourself

[rennwrites]

ancient dawn

ancient dawn

old

and brand new

but just as piercing all the same

ancient dawn

I see you

and I feel we have only just met

yet your face is more familiar than my own - 

your orange hue

lighting my unworn path

for millennia, for days

ancient dawn

each morning

you show me my age

and show me my youth.

[rennwrites]

Old flame, stop flickering

I lost you in another time,

another place.

My new self is

different, separate,

absent of thoughts

of you, of me,

of when, of then, of if and how.

Sometimes I completely forget you.

Like a broken promise, a lost dream

you fall into some hidden realm.

But I dream and in these fatal dreams I visit you;

Your prison in my head

where I keep the idea of us

Pure

and unharmed.

But soon I wake

and that perfect dream fades away

to be replaced by such imperfect reality.

Ugly consciousness

enslaves me to you.

And once again I wait for the eternal dream: eternal sleep.

Where you and I will meet again,

In another time, another place.

[rennwrites]

Impossible Heart

Running

    Fast as Thought

         Slow as footsteps.

              My mind behind,

         My body before,

    My soul stretched between

Past and Future.

Running

Impossible heart

Let me be still

[rennwrites]

Soul

My bones are weak and bitter

My mind is lost within

My heart was taken long ago

My soul suffers this constant din

Unbreakable yet unbearable

It keeps me from my sleep

And heals me as I break myself

Easy sadness I can't keep

[rennwrites]

Hope

Numb me with your fairytales

Your stories bright and Grimm

Tell me I will be ok

I can survive: sink or swim

Poison me with your awful hope

for a minute, just a minute more.

Slap me awake,

spits your Venom, you Snake,

''You Idiot. You stupid Whore''.

[rennwrites]

Monster

Monster in the dark,

Ugly hand that jokes

Whips and chokes.

You taunt me with illusion

And pull me under just as soon as you've let me go.

Monster monster I hate you

My Monster, Myself

You are one and the same – We are the same.

Monster in the dark,

With your ugly hand that jokes

Laugh that whips and chokes

As you relish in my pain

So I relish in it too.