You don’t ever have to apologise for not being there, more often than not I’ve been the absent party. Please know what matters is that you were ever there in the first place. I’ve learned recently how hard it is to miss what you’ve never had. I’m just glad to have you, in whatever way you’re available to me.
I don’t know what I expected when you finally came barrelling through the balcony windows, a whirlwind of flowing cape and bouncing curls. There have been times, as I skimmed over when we talked, that I thought I might not survive this recent nonsense with the shooting. So I should have been worried my casual atheism was being disproved, that I’d been sent an angel, but we both know I’m far too cynical for thoughts like that.
I just wish that you’d found me whole and well, and functioning at full strength. I wish my hair had been styled, no matter how much you seem to like running your fingers through my unruly natural curls. I wish I’d applied more than a perfunctory swipe of makeup, the better to hide the years and the ravages of recovery from those amazing eyes of yours that miss nothing. For weeks I’ve felt nothing like myself, scared to look too closely or touch for too long.
A few minutes in your company and I felt beautiful again. Maybe more than I ever have. I wish I knew how you did that.
I remember you carrying me, Kara. Even half-asleep I can’t ever forget it, because the safest place on this Earth is in your arms. I’ve built an empire of glass and steel, wrapped myself up in the finest fabrics as armor, and for most of my days I’m surrounded by armed bodyguards. That’s protection, yes, but it’s not safe the way I am with you.
I wasn’t kidding about how much more we’ll have to talk about this.
About what it means, on different coasts, with lives to juggle and my sons to protect. I’m still wary that you should be wasting your time with someone closer to your age, but then the very thought of someone else being the one you hold like that, the one you so politely ask to kiss, uncoils a very jealous streak inside me that I suppose won’t be much surprise to you.
You’ve always been mine, Kara. I just didn’t ever dare speak that claim out loud until now. See? You’re not the only one who’s been terrified and holding back. As always, we’re more alike than we’ve ever been able to admit.
I don’t want to end this on doubts and misgivings. I want to end this (for now, very temporarily) on asking if kissing is also in your arsenal of superpowers? Is there something in our yellow sun that makes you very, very good at it? I’ve always considered it a precursor to more interesting things, but while I’m still technically out of commission, I find that kissing you is something I could clear an entire day to do. Hell, let’s think big and find a whole weekend.