Summary: Chloe’s having an unpretty day.
Genre: Fluff. What do you mean that’s not a genre?
Authors note: Had a generally stinky day today, so ignored my dark muses and wrote this fluff to cheer myself up. Yes, you heard right. No, you weren’t hallucinating. 100% fluff, guaranteed ‘angst, darkness, and plot’, free. Perhaps you should start hoping that I don’t have anymore bad daysAlso, unbeta-ed so feel free to point out mistakes, and I'll correct. Thanks for reading!
Rating: G
***
Unpretty
It was Friday night, and Chloe was feeling un-pretty.
Sat on her own, in the darkest, furthest corner of The Talon, she sipped on a no-fat, no-foam, latte. Her laptop sat open in front of her, serving as a protection from any unwanted company. It was switched off, and she stared glumly and stonily at its blank screen, as she mentally announced her forsake-ment of the world and it’s people.
Since waking up that morning, she hadn’t smiled once.
The day in question, had gone from bad to worse. It hadn’t helped that it was that time of the month, and she was feeling particularly melancholy anyway.
It began as most bad days are apt to; with Chloe oversleeping, and waking up with barely enough time to brush her teeth, and throw on some clothes. Driving to school, without her defending line of make-up, it hadn’t helped having Lana as a passenger. The beautiful, every-man-melts-at-the-sight-of, Lana. Enough said there.
Chloe had dashed to the girl’s room, to rectify the missing-makeup matter, as soon as she got to school. However the quick five-minute job, after which she would sneak into class only a little late, never happened.
Instead, she stood staring at the mirror, tearing her appearance apart.
Her legs were too short. Her breasts too big. Her arms too curvy. Her outfit, she decided, needed to be burnt as soon as she got home. Her face was too pasty, her expression too miserable. The flippy hair that she normally thought cool, was too ‘in-your-face’ and unflattering.
“Ugh!” she told herself.
Even after trying to ameliorate her appearance and her self-opinion for fifteen minutes, she wasn’t satisfied.
It seemed the teacher who was taking her first lesson, shared her bad mood, and she had gotten a long lecture about tardiness and the need to obey school rules. The excuse she’d had prepared, seemed to get stuck in the throat, with the whole class staring at her unpretty, and by this point uncomfortable, form.
Chloe normally enjoyed verbal judo with the boy who was her desk partner that lesson. But feeling not-so-pretty seemed to be accompanied by feeling not-so-witty. She felt stupid and slow, and his teasing felt spiteful and real.
“Way to go losing your one asset, Sullivan,” she thought gloomily.
Her next lesson was her favourite; English. Pete shared her desk, and in front of them sat Lana and Clark. Her friends would cheer her up, like friends were supposed to.
But Pete was too engrossed thinking about his ‘hot’ new girlfriend and barely noticed Chloe. As to Lana and Clark; Chloe could easily tell they were sharing a game of footsy under the table. It seemed they were once again going through a good patch, and once again keeping their relationship secret from her. Chloe was supposedly over Clark, and her misery over the fact that he was with Lana, made her miserable over her own weakness.
A vicious cycle of misery.
It didn’t help that her English teacher, who up till then she had adored and looked up to, choose then, to reveal his previously hidden sexist side.
By the time lunch had rolled along she was starving, having had no breakfast and she pilled her lunchtray high. A group of cheerleaders behind her, not-so-subtly pointed and giggled, their hands resting on their tiny hips. Their own trays were scanty, holding only fruit and veg.
Normally Chloe wouldn’t have given a damn what the cheerleaders thought and probably would have tossed them a snarky ‘anorexics survival rate’ line. But now on top of being unattractive and un-clever, she being accused of being greedy and fat. She quickly lost her appetite, picking at her food, and leaving for the Torch office before her friends had even arrived to sit with her.
She hacked away at the article she had been ordered to work on by the principle. But the article bored her, barely holding her attention, and she ended up accidentally deleting it. Now all the thrilling work would have to be repeated.
The afternoon hadn’t panned out any better. It seemed to stretch painfully on and on, with the weekend threatening never to come.
She’d gone home looking for sympathy, a shoulder to lean on. But her dad was once again working late. A ‘order takeaway, see you tomorrow morning, Dad,’ note taped to the fridge. So then her black mood stretched to encompass what the lack of parental love and affection, was doing to her.
Chores, and bad soap operas, had eroded the rest of her day away.
Finally, black cloud over her head, miserable and restless, she had found herself driving to The Talon where she now sat.
Her gaze moved up from it’s unseeing spot on the table, and her eyes flickered to the sea of faces around her.
Like an inverse of the law of entropy; it seemed a fixed rule “that all idiots must congregate in The Talon,” she mumbled.
“One double-fudge sundae.”
A waitress placed the large, delicious looking contraption in front of her. Chloe opened her mouth to protest, but then spotted the note on the tray.
“Thanks.”
The girl nodded at her, giving her a dimpled smile, before heading off to serve someone else.
Slowly, Chloe unfolded the note.
Indulge yourself. Even more beautiful when you smile.
Instantly her eyes searched the room for the culprit. It could have been anyone in the packed coffee shop, but Chloe mentally narrowed the list down.
Pete was her number one choice. She must have underestimated him, and he had noticed she was unhappy, but had thought it best to give her space. But when her eyes located him, he was chatting animatedly to his girlfriend.
Lana had to be the next choice. They were after all supposed to be like sisters. Lana must have decided a dessert, on the house, would cure Chloe’s blues. And she was always telling Chloe that she had a nice smile. But Lana was scrubbing vigorously, a sure sign that she something was bothering her.
The something, or someone in question, was watching Lana from a not too distant point, his expression regretful, but stubborn. So that eliminated Clark as well.
Oh, but no, was it that waitress? Did she smile just a little too intently at Chloe? Chloe’s eyes swept the room searching for her.
Except for one pair of pale blue eyes, no one returned her gaze.
But where was that waitress? She seemed to have disappeared.
Wait. Pale blue eyes.
Elbow propped on counter, holding a take-out cup, Lex Luthor watched her from across the room. He seemed amused at the surprised expression she was sure she was wearing. Flashing her a genuine smile, he lifted his coffee up at her in greeting, before turning around and walking out of The Talon.
Even more beautiful when you smile. Wonders would never cease. She shook her head. Smiled her first smile of the day...
..and dipped into the sundae, deciding that maybe she wasn’t so unpretty after all.
***
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