"You… You're supergirl?!"

Lena was stuck. She was frozen, just staring at Kara with a unreadable but almost, just almost, thoughtful expression on her face. Like she couldn't decide to laugh or scream. The pause that had followed her question, statement really, stretched on.

Kara swallowed her terror. Again. The silence continued.

She had spoken it like a question and statement all rolled into one. Not exceptionally loud or with any extreme reaction. More like the response she always gave Kara when she told a particularly embarrassing or outlandish personal story. The one that always came with half a laugh, the subtle hint of a smile, but also a healthy dose of disbelief and a head shake. The one that usually made Kara blush and stutter and fiddle with her fingers in an attempt to stop from reaching out to touch. To see if she could bring out more than just half a laugh and the start of a smile. To see if Lena's skin felt as soft and warm as the feelings she sparked in Kara.

This comment though, while spoken the same, didn't elicit the same reaction in Kara. Quite the opposite. Instead of blushing Kara paled. Paled, shifting of her feet, back and forth and back and forth, slowly inching back with each rocking step. Her fingers didn't twiddle and fidget so much as tremble. Grasping and grasping at each other in an attempt to still. And failing. The warm feeling that always followed Lena's presence turning burning. Prickly. Settling too low and too hot to be comfortable.

And Lena stared.

Stared.

Her expression didn't change and Kara felt felt the burning that had made its home in the pit of her stomach raise quickly. Instantly. To her chest. Where it squeezed and squeezed and squeezed until tears pricked at her eyes and it became impossible to look anywhere but down. Sniffles and whimpers bubbled up to her throat, choking her as she tried and tried to swallow them down. Refused to let them out. Last time she let out a noise, it had been a confession and Lena had…

Lena had…

Lena hadn't moved. Or spoken other than that one sentence.

She hadn't condemned Kara. Yet. Minutes, hours, had to have passed and Kara

Kara

Kara knew. She knew. Knew. That Lena was just trying to find a nice way to say get out. That she was too kind to tell Kara how much she hated her now. How much she resented her lies. Her cover stories. Kara new that the emotion creeping into Lena's carefully blank face wasn't nice. It wasn't wonder, or laughter. Or love.

Love.

Another barely contained whimper.

It was doubt.

And regret

And resentment.

And…

And…

Tears fell. The sobs escaped, quietly, quietly, quietly. She'd already bothered Lena enough. She didn't need to bother her more with a scene. A scene that Lena didn't deserve. And probably wouldn't even believe.

Kara didn't blame her. She had lied to her. Lied and lied. So many excuses.

She should leave. She needed to leave. Lena didn't want her here. She knew it. She didn't deserve to be here. Here in Lena's apartment. In Lena's home. On the living room they hung out in, near the couch they ate and watched movies by, next to the window Supergirl used to knock on. She shuffles became steps. Became steps that would carry her out and away somewhere she could curl up and rock, rock, rock the pain away.

But a hand stopped her. A hand that was soft and warm and didn't burn like the anxiety in her gut. A hand that didn't shake, like her's did. A hand she didn't deserve. A hand that was too delicate on her skin. To fragile. She would break it. Break it like she broke everything. A second hand reached out, touched her chin. Raised her up, up, up high enough that Kara's tear-filled eyes would soon meet Lena's. Kara couldn't bare it, but didn't have it in her to stop it. Because it was Lena. Lena. Lena who was smiling a soft, sad, smile. Who was humming softly, comfortingly, like Kara was a scared, wild animal. Like Kara might run.

Which she was. Which she might.

And seeing that the smile reached Lena's eyes made Kara's moisten. Made Kara's overflow and drip, drip, down her face and onto Lena's hand. Lena's soft, comforting, hands. Like a dam breaking loose.

"And here I thought I had two, wonderful, friends," Lena said with a chuckle. "I should have know you two were the same," she whispered. Stepping closer. Closer. Close enough that Kara could feel Lena's breath ghosting along her cheek. Close enough that it felt like it was more just Lena's hands holding her and grounding her. "There is no one else, not like you."

Short writing exercise and character dabble from Kara's POV. Be kind, it was a quick write and I haven't gone back to reread it. Bless anyone who actually reads this.