Michael took another gulp of his beer, draining it, then signalled the bartender for another round. Less than a minute later he had another cold Rolling Rock and a whiskey shooter in front of him.

"Put it on your tab, Michael?"

"Yeah, thanks, Rich," Michael responded, nodding to the other man.

"I'm surprised Tom isn't here with you. Did work run late?"

Scowling slightly, Michael clipped out, "Tom won't be coming out with me anymore. Anyway, are you a bartender or a gossip columnist? Just keep the beers coming!"

"Sure, man, no problem. Sorry I asked," Rich remarked as he walked down the other end of the bar looking like he was trying to get away from this nasty version of Michael Rosenbaum.

Fuck him, anyway. Who cares if I pissed off a bartender?

Lifting the small glass, Michael quickly emptied his whiskey shot and chased it down with the Rolling Rock.

Shaking his head slightly to clear the alcohol-induced fog, Michael realized that was his fourth shot in an hour. He was feeling no pain now.

And that's just the way I want it.

Just who needs Tom Welling anyway?

* * * * *

Michael woke up with a pounding headache, which was being exasperated by his alarm clock and a stomach that was threatening to heave. Groaning, he rolled over in bed and begged God to kill him then and there. Hitting the snooze button on his alarm clock, Michael wondered if he could call in sick to work.

Staggering to his bathroom, he just made it to the toilet in time to puke up last night's drinking binge. A few minutes later, after rinsing his face with cold water in the sink, he looked into the mirror in front of him.

He looked like a car wreck. Blood-shot eyes, pale skin, rings under his eyes.

Reaching for his toothbrush, his hand stopped in mid-motion when he heard a noise form the bedroom.

His heart twitched with hope.

Tom. It's Tom. He's the only person with a key.

Moving as quickly as his pulsing head would allow, Michael moved into the bedroom, expecting to see his lover there.

What he found stopped him dead in his tracks.

A blonde, naked woman was in his bed. A blonde, naked and very much awake woman. And not just any blonde -- but his Smallville co-star from this week's episode.

 

* * * * *

Gently closing his front door, Michael wondered how his life had gotten so complicated. Last week, he had a lover who said he adored him and made him feel things that he'd never experienced before. Today, he had the hangover from hell and apparently he'd just fucked his co-star. His female co-star who he'd have to work with until Friday. And today was only Wednesday.

Dragging himself into the shower, Michael vaguely recalled that last night Willa -- the blonde -- had showed up at the bar. He had bought her a few drinks, but after that it was a bit blurry. He didn't remember the drive home, nor did he remember them screwing. Which was probably good, as he felt bad enough he was cheating on Tom.

What am I taking about? Cheating on Tom? Tom and I aren't in a relationship anymore. He broke it off, remember?

His heart broke again as he recalled their conversation yesterday.


Flashback

Michael saw Tom enter his trailer and as soon as the dark-headed man closed the door, Michael was on him in two seconds flat.

"God, I missed you last night, Tommy. My bed was so empty without you. Let's not do that again," Michael said around kisses.

Pulling away, Tom pushed Michael back and said, "We need to talk, Michael."

Michael? Shit, he never calls me Michael, unless it's serious.

"Okay. How did the meeting with Jaime go? Did you sign the divorce papers? Or did something go wrong?"

Michael saw Tom wince, then put his arms around his middle and withdraw into himself, looking nervous.

"Come on, Tom. Don't make me guess here. What's wrong?"

Sad hazel eyes looked into his and Michael's heart seemingly froze for a minute.

"Jaime asked me to give our marriage another chance...and I couldn't say no. We're getting back together," Tom blurted out in a rush.

No!

Stumbling over to the small sofa in his dressing room, Michael sat down and choked out, "This is some kind of joke, right? Jaime and you have been separated for seven months, Tom. You said the marriage was over before we even got together. I never would have gotten involved with you if I thought for a minute you might go back to your wife."

"I'm sorry, Mike. God, you have no idea-" Tom walked over to Michael and knelt down to touch his lover.

Michael pulled away, "Don't touch me. Jesus, you were with her last night, weren't you?"

Seeing Tom avert his eyes, Michael knew he had his answer. "Last night, while I waited for you in our bed, you fucked your soon-to-be ex-wife and now you're dumping me?"

"Please try and understand. I've known Jaime forever, she's my first love. I have to try this or I'd never be able to forgive myself. Don't you see? You deserve to be with a person who can love you with his whole heart, just not pieces of it. Please, I don't want to hurt you."

Michael's response was swift and harsh, "Fuck off, Tom! Just fuck off!"

"Mike, don't do this." His expression at Michael's words was grim and hurt, like someone who had been struck in the face.

Michael ignored Tom's pain, he could only deal with his own at this point.

He heard his bitterness spill over into his voice. "Do what? Break your heart? No, because that's your job. I thought after last night when you signed the divorce papers, we'd finally be able not to hide and be together. I had a special evening all planned for Friday night after work. Romantic dinner for two, champagne and making love all night long. Stupid fool that I am, guess I'll be dining alone now."

His anger became a scalding fury and he spat out the words contemptuously, "Get out, Tom. I don't want to look at you right now."

Michael watched as Tom stood and slowly left his trailer, their eyes never breaking contact until Tom closed the door.


End Flashback


Michael arrived at work nearly thirty minutes late. He rushed to the make-up trailer and sat down. Joanne was already there, waiting for him.

"Sorry, Jo. Rough morning."

Laughing Joanne said, "I was beginning to worry, you're never late. That must have been some bender, Mike. You look like shit."

Grinning, Michael replied, "Yeah, you could say that. Think you can hide the bags from the camera?"

"Of course. Hell, you should have seen the magic I used to work on Nic Lea after one of his binges when I worked on The X-Files. I'll have you ready in no time."

"Thanks and sorry I made you wait."

"No worries, mate," the petite Australian said and leaned forward to start applying Michael's make-up.

An hour later, Michael went to wardrobe and got dressed in his Lex costume for the day. He had run into Allison and they had chatted for a while, but he had carefully been avoiding the area of the set where Tom usually hung out.

Finally he had no choice but to go to rehearsal so he could block his scenes for this afternoon. Luckily, all his scenes were with John Glover today.

Four hours later, Michael sat in his trailer eating lunch. Usually he ate out by the craft services van with the rest of the cast, but today he didn't feel much like socializing. It had taken him eight takes to get his first scene with John and the elder actor had not been amused. Michael usually hit his marks and did the scene in one or two takes. Michael hoped the afternoon would go a bit smoother.

Finishing up his lunch, Michael heard a knock at his door, then someone rattling his doorknob. For the first time in four and half years, he'd locked the door to his trailer. He didn't want to see Tom right now.

"Whose's there?" Please let it be Allison or Sam. Please.

"Michael, it's Willa, can I come in?"

Opening the door, Michael ushered the tall, blonde inside.

"I just wanted to make sure you got to work okay. You were a bit out of it this morning."

Inwardly wincing at his rude behavior this morning -- he practically shoved the woman out his front door and into a cab -- Michael replied, "Yeah, hangover was kicking my ass. Sorry about this morning."

Michael saw Willa smile slightly at that remark, she moved closer to Michael, deliberately brushing up against him and said, "I came by to ask if you wanted to go to dinner with me tonight. I have to fly directly back to L.A. Friday after shooting, so I can't see you this weekend. I thought it might be nice to go to dinner and talk...maybe go back to your place afterwards?"

Looking into her cool blue eyes, Michael felt a little bit sorry for the woman. If this had been six months ago, he'd have been all over her like white on rice and would have fucked her brains out in his trailer. But that was before Tom. He couldn't do this anymore -- have meaningless sex with strangers. He had to let her know he wasn't interested.

"Look, Willa, any other time, I'd love to have dinner with you. But tonight's not good. Shit, I know I am going to sound like a real asshole after last night, but I am just not interested in a relationship right now."

To his surprise, she laughed. "Mike, I'm not interested in a relationship either. I just thought that since we had so much fun last night, we could repeat the evening. This time with you not being so trashed. Look, is this about that guy you said you broke up with last night? Did you reconcile? Because, you know, I have no problem with you being bi."

Drunk Michael=Depressed Michael=Blabbermouth Michael. Good move there, idiot.

Stuttering slightly, wondering how much of his sob story he'd exposed last night, Michael said, "No, we haven't gotten back together. But, I just can't do this right now. I'm sorry."

She nodded sympathetically, "That's okay. I understand. I've been there myself. But if you want my opinion, he's not worth this. Anybody who'd dump you is an fool," and then Willa leaned over and kissed Michael's cheek. "I'll see you later on the set. 'Bye."

And Michael watched as the tall blonde turned and left his trailer. Still feeling like a heel, Michael prepared to go back out and shoot the remainder of his scenes that day. Hopefully in a few hours he could go home and crash for a week.

Two more days left until the weekend. Two more days of trying to avoid Tom. Michael prayed they would go quickly.

* * * * *

Two months later...

The show's hiatus was coming up soon, they only had two more weeks of shooting left and Michael was damned glad. The past two months had been hell. Working with Tom every day and still loving him was agony. Their strained relationship had affected everyone on the set. Their scenes were stilted and awkward and they barely acknowledged each other's existence outside of filming. The entire cast and crew knew something was up, but was too afraid to ask either of them what was going on. Michael had been a grump to almost everyone, from the lowest grip to the craft services lady, which surprised everyone as Michael was always so cheerful and pleasant. While Tom had just retreated further into himself and not coming out of his trailer until a couple of minutes before filming started.

Michael knew that their failed relationship was hurting their onscreen performances, but he was too upset to care. He knew if the situation didn't improve he wasn't going to sign his renewal contract for next season. Al and Miles had already told the cast they'd been picked up for a fifth season. While Tom, Allison, Sam, and Kirsten all had five-year contracts with The WB Network, Michael only had a four-year. His agent was able to get that because he'd had prior acting credits to his name. In actuality, it was a negotiating ploy for more money, but Michael was beginning to think it was time to leave the show. He didn't think he could take another year of being around Tom and not being with him.

Of knowing he was with Jaime, making love to her...it just hurt too much seeing his ex-lover everyday. Yes, maybe they'd both be better off if he left the show.

There annual end of the year wrap party was tomorrow night and Michael dreaded going. He knew Tom would be bringing Jaime and he'd have to sit by and watch them together. He was thinking of skipping it, but knew that would arouse suspicions, so he figured he'd show up for an hour or so, plead a headache, then leave.

 

* * * * *

The next evening, Michael clutched a glass of red wine in his hand and tried to listen to something that Allison's fiancee, Peter was saying. Allison was standing next to him laughing at the comment her boyfriend had just made.

Suddenly, he saw Tom's tall form enter the room. Preparing himself for Jaime's entrance, he didn't have to wait long as Tom's wife entered behind him.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Michael then interrupted Allison's latest tale about how the F/X guys had played a practical joke on John Schneider a few weeks ago.

"Look guys, I've got a bad headache...I think I'm going to head home. Say good-bye to everyone for me?"

He saw Allison turn quickly and register that Tom and Jaime were now at the party. Something like compassion flickered across her face and she reached out and lightly touched Michael's arm and said, "It's okay. I understand. You go home. I'll let everyone know you were sick."

She knows. Damn, she knows about Tom and me. How? We were always so discreet.

Michael felt his heart drop, but Allison's smiling face quickly made him feel better. She knows and she understands.

Smiling back at his friend, he leaned over and kissed her cheek, telling the woman's fiancee, "You've got a keeper here. Don't let her get away."

"I know, Michael. Thanks, you take care, " Peter replied.

Putting his drink down, Michael then walked towards the back entrance of the set and the door that would put him in the parking lot. A minute later he was almost to the door, but then was surprised to see Tom making his way towards him.

Pushing the door open, Michael all but ran into the backlot where his van was parked. He heard footsteps behind him, then a voice yelling, "Mike!"

Stopping just a few feet in front of his van, Michael turned to see Tom running over to him. The sight of his ex-lover never failed to make him hot and bothered, but Michael pushed down those emotions.

"Where are you going? The party just started."

"I'm not feeling well. I'm going home. I'll see you Monday, Tom."

"Please don't leave because I got here, Mike. I want us to be friends again."

Friends, he was us to be friends? After I've explored every inch of his body. After I fucked his ass and he fucked me?

Michael went from super-depressed to super-pissed off in about one second.

"Friends? You have the nerve to ask me to be friends after the way you dumped me? That's rich, Tom. As I said two months ago, 'fuck off.' Go back to your wife and leave me the hell alone."

Pulling out his keys from his pant's pocket, Michael opened the door to his van and was about to get in when a strong arm, grabbed him and pulled him back.

"We can't keep doing this, Mike. I'm miserable, you're miserable. The whole cast is uncomfortable. This rift between us is affecting our work."

"So? It adds to the whole Lex and Clark angst, the writers love. Now, would you please take your hands off me so I can leave?" Blue eyes met hazel and a struggle of wills began. Michael felt himself harden at the hot gaze his ex-lover was sending him. Michael couldn't handle the mixed signals, not tonight.

"Make me," Tom practically purred.

"Fucking bastard," was all Michael said before he pulled Tom into his arms and kissed him.

All was forgotten as Tom's mouth clashed with his, making him literally weak in the knees. Everything within Michael gloried in a wild sense of rightness as he welcomed Tom back into his arms and heart. Tom was passionately kissing him back, their tongues duelling, and Michael revelled in the riotous sensations that claimed his mind and swirled through his body.

"We belong together, Tom," he muttered fiercely as he broke the kiss to draw a breath. His hand clamped around the back of Tom's head, his fingers clutching his the dark man's hair. Brushing his lips against Tom's ear, he whispered, "Say you want me."

Michael heard Tom moan and thrust his hips against Michael's burgeoning erection.

"Say it."

Lifting his head from Michael's shoulder, Tom looked into his ex-lover's eyes and said, "I want you, Mike. I do. I tried to give you up, but I'm addicted."

For the first time in two months, Michael's heart sang with joy. Tom wants me. He still wants me.

But before he could lean in to kiss Tom again, the other man broke their embrace and took a few steps back from Michael.

His voice shaking, Michael heard Tom say, "I do want you, Mike. But I can't have you no matter how much I might want to be with you. I'm still trying to make my marriage with Jaime work. We're having a tough time of it, but I have to try. And if I let myself fall into bed with you, then I'd know my marriage is over. I can't do that to her, she deserves more."

Pain lanced through Michael's soul at Tom's words. It was like their break-up all over again, only this time worse, because this time he knew Tom wouldn't be coming back. After this there'd be no hope of them ever being together again, he could see the determination his Tom's eyes. This was the end.

Steeling himself for the grief he knew his next words would cause, Michael replied, "I can't do this again, Tom. I can't be with you everyday and know you're not mine. To watch you from a distance and want you so much that it makes my heart ache. It's killing me. I'm going to call my agent tomorrow and tell him I won't be signing my contract to extend my stay on Smallville. I'm going to leave the show after we film the next two episodes."

Michael saw the pain flit across Tom's face and his startled gasp made him want to take the words back -- but he couldn't.

"God, Mike...no, please don't do that. I never wanted you to leave-"

Smiling ruefully, Michael said, "One of us has to leave. And we know it can't be you. You're the star of the show. I can't. No, I won't stand around pretending to be happy when all I am is heartbroken and lonely. And I won't stick around and watch Jaime and you sort your problems out and be blissfully happy. It's not fair to me. I have to leave Vancouver if I want to get over you. I'll go back to LA and jump-start my film career." Pausing a second, he continued, "Who knows maybe in a year or so, our break-up won't be as painful and we can be friends, but right now, Tom, I can't do it. Sorry, I love you too much."

Reaching out to touch Tom one last time, his let his hand softly caress his lover's face, then Michael pleaded, "Please let me go, Tommy. Please. I'm begging you."

Hazel eyes filled with tears, and Tom's voice broke, "I'm sorry I hurt you. I never meant for this to happen-"

For the first time in months, Michael felt sympathy for Tom. He knew the other man had cared for him and hadn't deliberately set out to hurt him, but the pain of working with Tom everyday was to much. He had to leave.

"I know. But it doesn't change anything. I have to go."

Pulling his hand back, Michael took one last long look at the face he loved so much and then quietly climbed into his van, turned on the engine and rolled his window down.

Leaning out his window, he said, "Be happy, Tom."

Michael knew it might be years before he ever got over Tom, he'd made that deep of an impact in his life. Some time and distance would be good for both of them and few months in the California sun would do his aching heart some good.

I did love you, Tommy. I really did.

As he drove off into the chilly Vancouver night leaving a big piece of his heart behind, Michael realized that at the moment Lex Luthor and he had a lot in common; they both were in love with men who couldn't -- or wouldn't -- love them back. Sighing, he hoped that one day in the future that would change, but until then he had his van, his friends in LA and now time to heal.

Hopefully that would be enough.

* * * * *

Line: "I tried to give you up, but I'm addicted."
--Muse, Time is Running Out