Let Them Roll
A glimpse into Kal . . .
Disclaimer: ‘Smallville’ and certain characters belong to Miller-Gough et. al. No profit is gained from this writing. Only, hopefully, enjoyment.
He’s hurt people during his time in Metropolis. Or, more accurately, Kal’s hurt people, Clark thinks. A surprisingly large number of people. And not all of them deserved it, either.
On perhaps his third night in the city, Kal goes to a club called ‘Magnifique.’ Inside, it’s Red -- the walls, the ceiling, the alcoves and their furniture, the lighting, even the bar and glasses. Everything in sight is just . . . Red. The dance floor is like something out of ‘Saturday Night Fever’ meets ‘Nightmare on Elm Street,’ glittering like a mad ruby, pulsing with life at each primal, bass beat. For almost a minute, Kal just stands rooted to the spot, in awe of a place in love with Red as much as he is. Clark makes him swear never to go back there. He could only imagine what kind of sick, twisted devastation Kal would wreak on the place that eventually he would find only pretended to worship Red.
Red is Kal’s idol. It is his God, his Goddess, his beloved, and mother. Where the Green punishes him, like a father whipping a disobedient, willful son, Red lavishes affection on him. Red makes Kal feel. For too long, Kal has been a slave to Clark’s morality. Red helps him regain who and what he truly is. Kal is truly melodramatic, Clark thinks, sullenly.
Most unfortunate, Kal also has a hard time being gentle with human flesh. Clark, even now, cringes at the many memories of broken arms and dislocated shoulders left in Kal's wake. Kal is impatient, always wanting something to happen. And if he is bored, or insanely high, Kal finally gives up and makes something happen. It is he who decides to rob ATM’s. It is Kal who detests work and labor, declaring them fit for only the weak.
Kal burns down ‘Magnifique’ the second night he goes there -- despite Clark’s pleas. Secretly, Clark must know Kal is smarter than him. Or maybe, he’s just more ruthless, more conniving, more willing to break pitiful, human rules. Clark often stumbled into something he wished he hadn’t; he always looked for a way out. Kal slithers in deliberately, and then brings the whole damn thing down right on top of himself and as many meatsacks as he can.
When Kal becomes greedy enough, and wants a place so he can show off how wealthy and accomplished he has made himself, he looks for something he thinks Lex would've liked. Lex. Now there was someone Kal respected. Both the Luthors were worthy, Kal feels. And perhaps Kal only respected Lex because he wanted in his pants (too bad he’s dead now), but there is no denying that Lionel is almost the equal of Jor-El. After all, they both treated their respective sons as property, extensions of themselves and their own greatness. Both fathers were verbally, emotionally and, most definitely in Clark’s case and most likely in Lex’s, physically abusive. Lionel was someone to be wary of, someone from whom Kal should stay away. And he does. They both do. Clark had never liked the way in which Lionel stared at him, or at his mom. Kal just doesn’t want his fun to be curtailed. And he feels a little protective of Clark. The poor creature had been alone all this time, left to those two meatsacks he called parents. Kal couldn’t care less about their stupid baby, and its death. But it had made Clark feel bad, and Kal is the only one allowed to punish the sniveling, whiny little shit. Not Jor-El, or Jonathan, or any other puny human. Clark is his.
As much as Kal loves Red, he also adores Black. Black is safety and familiarity. Black is the night sky, which Kal remembers gliding through, long ago. Black is his heart, Clark thinks angrily. And Kal laughs at that, and agrees. Everything is either Black or Red. Never Green. Never Purple. Clark likes Blue, so Kal mockingly avoids that, too . . . just to make him that much more isolated and sad. Clark has always been so, so sad. Kal loves playing with Clark; he has so little self-worth left to shred.
When Kal sleeps, he dreams Clark’s dreams. Images of the Kents and Lex and Lana are always present, accusing and vicious in their hate and sense of betrayal. Kal can’t stand them, these dreams, so he refuses sleep until he can no longer function. He finally collapses and the dreams aren’t far behind. It makes him hate Clark all the more.
When Kal goes out, he tries to leave Clark behind, but all the drugs and alcohol he can get his hands on isn’t enough to drown the fucker out. Always crying and sulking, Clark tries to appeal to a conscience and sense of guilt that just aren’t there in Kal. Sometimes, just to fuck with him, Kal will stop suddenly and start to reflect on the things he’s done while in control of their body. He’ll act guilty and doubtful . . . and then . . . he’ll laugh, loud and hard, right in Clark’s metaphorical face. This always causes Kal to really chuckle, and he relishes the times he’s stared at, or startles someone trying to seduce him. Because there are a lot of people who find their body -- his and Clark’s -- attractive.
Kal can’t believe Clark was so disliked in that stupid fucking town. It’s another reason he hates the Kents, with all their righteousness, and worthless platitudes. Clark was nothing there. Nobody loved him like he deserved. Only Lex got close, and only because he was so utterly obsessed with anything different. Clark’s brilliance and strengths had to be denied and buried, and all he was allowed to show to this pathetic world were human traits and weaknesses. And Kal will never forgive them for loving that damn farm more than Clark. If they had moved, anywhere away from Smallville, Clark would have been safe. And maybe he and Kal would’ve gotten along, and they both could’ve been happy. But, it doesn’t matter now -- not anymore. Soon the Kents will die at the hands of some rage-filled mutant, and Clark won’t be there to save them this time.
Alcohol does have some effect on Kal. It’s just he has to drink a shit-load of it before it starts to kick in. Which can be expensive. Which is why he gets people to buy him drinks. And they love to do it. Men, women -- they all want Kal. Want to fuck him, want him to fuck them, some just want to watch him fuck. And Kal does it all. He exposes every bit of his and Clark’s body to strangers, and revels in Clark’s degradation. Clark feels things so deeply, so exquisitely painfully. And Kal knows it’s because Clark doesn’t always feel pain physically that the emotional wounds are that much more severe and debilitating. Those Kents never seemed to get that. They wondered why he was so upset and guilty over the meteor shower. Stupid humans. They can never understand Clark the way he does.