Pairing – Chloe/Whitney

Disclaimer – I own Smallville, and I'm making tons of money out of this story.

Chloe set in the Torch room. She was sobbing.

Chloe didn't have any "real" reason to sob. Everything was normal- Earth was spinning round itself, the sun was up at the East each morning…and Chloe Sullivan was in love with Clark Kent.

Chloe usually didn't cry much. This current burst of tears surprised even her.

She hated her state.

Being in love with a guy, who's in love with another girl, who happened to be Homecoming queen.

I'm such a loser, she thought for a brief moment, than corrected herself. No, I'm not a loser. I keep the paper going , I do well in school, I'm a good friend.

No, I'm not a loser. I'm just a pathetic geek in love with her best friend.

Chloe used the back of her hand to wipe her tears, her face was completely wet, she knew her eyes are red.

Chloe wished she had someone to blame. Other than


She wished Lana to be a bitch, or Clark to be a total jerk…unfortunately, they weren't. They were both nice, friendly teenagers. Damn.

So she had nobody to blame but herself.

Chloe began to sob again. The tears ran down, creating wet passes as they made their way down her face. They

had the taste of salt.

Chloe's second burst of tears was stopped after a minute or two. She waited a few more minutes, to make sure her face regain their white natural color

,than continued to work on her article.

"Hi , Chloe!" The voice belonged to Clark Kent,

, who stood at the Torch door, grinning, looking as happy as one could get.

"She broke up with Whitney" He announced Chloe with triumph. There was no need to ask who "she" is. Lana

Lang, Miss Perfect.

"Wow, This could be the Torch's next headline." Chloe responded. "Head Cheerleader, out in the market


"Come on, Chlo, aren't you happy for me?" Asked Clark, slightly hurt.

1 Yeah. So happy I could jump off a cliff to express my


2 "So, what are you going to do about that?" Chloe


"I decided" Clark said dramatically "To ask her out. "

Great, Clark. Instead of stalking the girl, you actually

gonna date her. Now where's the fun there?


"How do I look?" Clark asks with excitement.

"Your usual self"

"That good or bad?"

That's the best you, or anyone else, can ever be.

"That's fine, Clark. Go, make your move"

"Ok. Wish me luck." Clark ran off the office, his cheeks blushed.

Chloe looked for a number. She found it, and dialed.

"Hello, when is the nearest time I can get an appointment?" she asked the clerk on the other side.

Clark called Chloe that night.

"She said yes! She said yes!"

"Great. I'm happy for you, Clark."

"You don't sound happy"

"I'm just tired, that's all. Congratulations."

They chatted for another minute or so. The second Chloe closed the phone, she set on her bad, hugged her pillow, and wept like only a rejected teenager can.

In a week, Clark and Lana were part of the school's view. They held hands, laughed together, set next to each other on the school bus.

Chloe watched them for a while, than looked through her bag. Thank God for chemical happiness, she thought, as she swallowed another Prozac pill.

Chloe left her car on the way to her monthly check at the shrink. It took ten minutes, usually. Since she refused to get therapy, all the shrink has to do was to ask "Is everything ok, Chloe?" With the damn fake sympathetic look on his wrinkled face. I don't need your mercy, Doc, thank you very much.

Than he would ask about her state than she started with the happy pills, and she'd say that everything's fine, and the dose was just right to keep her on the right track.

It all went as usual, and in a record time- seven minutes

She was out of the Doctor's room.

Than she saw him.

Whitney wasn't sure what he was doing in the waiting

room. It wasn't his style, to see a shrink.

He set there in the waiting room, trying to read the Time, remembers the cover with the three-year old Lana, after her parents died.

He put the Time down. He was too nervous to read.

I'm such a failure, he told himself. Can't even solve my own problems. He put his head between his hands in desperation.

Suddenly, the door opened. He saw the Doctor, a man in his mid- forties, and a petite blonde – The Torch editor.