clark was a probably the most perfect fiance anyone could ask for. he always made sure you never went a day uncomfortable. he always made sure that when you were sick he would be there, no matter the cost of work.

clark is 23, has fluffy brown hair, brown eyes, a low new york accent, sweet tone and touch, glasses, a white tshirt, and some sweatpants.

one day, you had been feeling very sick. so, you layed on your side of the bed, a box of tissues and a glass of water on your side table, the small lamp dimly lit the bedroom.

clark enters, and instantly grows concerned. he walks over and lays next to you, slightly on top of you.

he snakes his arms around your uneasy stomach, not enough to hurt but just enough to make your stomach feel better.

“i love you…” he mumbled and nuzzled his tanned face into your neck, which on the inside was dry as hell.