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shallownessHome. Fandom: Smallville. G. Whitney Fordman (background Whitney/Lana, Clark/Lana). 250 words. First posted: June 2006. Summary: Whitney never got to find out who sent him the copy of The Torch.
Notes: Inspired in part by MollyTM’s ‘Shades of Gray’. Takes place during early season 2, but spoilers up till ‘Visage.’ With thanks to FridayAngel for the beta.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine and I make no profit from writing this.
Home: shallowness
The night that Whitney got The Torch, he dreamed of slow dancing with Lana.
He would never find out who sent it to him; there would always be other things to ask his mom on the few times they got to talk and he never remembered to ask when e-mailing Lana either. There was no name, no note, just the latest edition, and he devoured every word, every picture.
Thanks to the weirdness on the front page, the scathing editorial on changes to the policy on students’ use of the science labs and the Crows' results, Whitney was back home. Back sweating in the guys' changing room, waiting for the coach to bust their chops or rile them up. Back outside the school building in that chaotic moment when the bell rang and the majority of Lowell County's yellow buses congregated to set them free. Back in the corridors where the lockers piled up one on another and there was shuffling, not marching; more laughter than orders.
Although the print was black and white, he remembered in color. Familiar names jumped out at him, balancing out the article about the freshmen making a time capsule. Chloe's description of the Talon as the town's java junkies' supplier, Kent's name dotted around. Was he looking after Lana? How much? How?
Whitney dreamed in color again for many nights after he finally folded The Torch up, and set it aside under some photographs in his locker. He never got to read another copy.
- end -
Feedback of any stripe is welcomed.
Notes: Inspired in part by MollyTM’s ‘Shades of Gray’. Takes place during early season 2, but spoilers up till ‘Visage.’ With thanks to FridayAngel for the beta.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine and I make no profit from writing this.
The night that Whitney got The Torch, he dreamed of slow dancing with Lana.
He would never find out who sent it to him; there would always be other things to ask his mom on the few times they got to talk and he never remembered to ask when e-mailing Lana either. There was no name, no note, just the latest edition, and he devoured every word, every picture.
Thanks to the weirdness on the front page, the scathing editorial on changes to the policy on students’ use of the science labs and the Crows' results, Whitney was back home. Back sweating in the guys' changing room, waiting for the coach to bust their chops or rile them up. Back outside the school building in that chaotic moment when the bell rang and the majority of Lowell County's yellow buses congregated to set them free. Back in the corridors where the lockers piled up one on another and there was shuffling, not marching; more laughter than orders.
Although the print was black and white, he remembered in color. Familiar names jumped out at him, balancing out the article about the freshmen making a time capsule. Chloe's description of the Talon as the town's java junkies' supplier, Kent's name dotted around. Was he looking after Lana? How much? How?
Whitney dreamed in color again for many nights after he finally folded The Torch up, and set it aside under some photographs in his locker. He never got to read another copy.
- end -
Feedback of any stripe is welcomed.
