Chapter Text
At the breakfast table, Clark asks his mother, “Why is the sun so loud today?”
“I don’t know, darling,” says Martha, spooning more oatmeal into his bowl. “Actually, I hadn’t noticed.”
Clark rubs at his ears. “I don’t like it.”
“I’m sure it will pass,” she assures him.
“The corn doesn’t like it, either.”
“I’m sure it will pass,” repeats Martha. Her heartbeat is little faster than usual, but not fast enough for a lie. “Clark! Don’t listen to my heartbeat, that’s rude.”
“Sorry,” he mumbles. She rests a gentle hand on his shoulder—forgiven—and drops a handful of cut strawberries into the bowl.
Clark gazes out through the kitchen window, up at the sun, expecting it to look different—perhaps red and angry, or bubbling like a pot of water, or maybe even covered in spots—but it’s the same as it’s always been. He finishes his breakfast, rinses his bowl, zips through his chores, and goes to consult the second weirdest kid in town.
Lex is down at the creek, kneeling in the mud and working on something with a lot of wires. It’s his favorite place to run tests because there’s a lot of water around in case things go wrong. Not too far away, Lena sits on a blanket and slaps her tiny hands into the mud.
“The sun is loud today,” reports Clark.
“There’s solar flares happening. They said it on the news.” Lex looks up from whatever he’s working on. Clark hopes it’s something that will explode, intentionally or otherwise. “What’s it sound like?”
“Breathing. Heavy breathing. Like after someone’s run a long way.”
Lex wipes at his brow, leaving a bit of mud behind. “That’s impossible, sound doesn’t travel through space.”
“This sound does,” says Clark. “It’s like heavy breathing.”
Lex and Clark are both eleven, so they ought to be in the same class, but Lex skips grades like Clark skips stones and also he’s never gone to Smallville Elementary because his father sends him to private boarding schools instead. He only comes home for holidays and expulsions.
The boys first met on a hot summer day a few years back, when Clark had been exploring a fallow field and stumbled upon a large chunk of green stone. Before he even had time to consider what he was looking at, he’d been overcome with nausea so powerful that he could do nothing but curl up on the ground and think of his mother.
Lex, who had definitely not been testing homemade explosives nearby, heard Clark’s cries of pain and immediately started dragging him back in the direction of town. He wasn’t very strong, even by the standards of ordinary little boys, but he was fiercely determined and once they were far enough away from the green rock, Clark’s strength and mind had returned.
“Are you okay?” Lex had asked when Clark could stand again.
“Yeah,” Clark rasped. Then he’d taken in the other boy’s messy red curls and added, “I don’t think I’m supposed to talk to you.”
Lex’s eyes had narrowed and he’d drawn back.
“It’s okay, though,” Clark said hastily. “I won’t tell.”
Except he had told. That very night, in fact, because Clark was utterly incapable of hiding things from his mother.
“I’m going to go talk to your father,” Martha had said once he finished his story. “Don’t listen in.”
Clark had wanted very much to listen in, mostly because he wanted to know how upset Jonathan would be. But Martha had said don’t listen in, and when she said don’t listen in she meant don’t listen in.
So instead Clark sat on the porch and tuned in to an argument between a boyfriend and girlfriend on the other side of town. He hadn’t understood most of it, but it sounded like the boyfriend had another girlfriend who was also the first girlfriend’s friend and it was all extremely interesting and by the end of it Clark knew at least five new words.
After a while, Martha came outside and hugged him.
“Be careful,” she said. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
Clark hadn’t known if she was talking about green rocks or Lex or the explosives they’d spent the afternoon messing around with, but he’d nodded and said, “I promise.”
He suspects she might have actually been talking about Lex’s father. He’s the richest man in town and his home is an actual castle. He owns the factory, and a couple other factories, and the company that owns the factories, and absolutely everyone hates him.
From what Clark has picked up—and he picks up a lot, usually from a couple miles away—the hatred isn’t completely unwarranted. A lot of it is too complicated for him, but the pieces he does understand are…bad.
He only wishes everyone’s hatred didn’t extend to Lillian, who often stands on her balcony in the middle of the night and sobs, to Lex, whose only crime is being a little too enthusiastic about munitions, to Lena, who can’t even speak yet.
For the last few years, Lex and Clark have spent their summer vacations together, discussing potential inventions and exploring the local caves and slipping into the library when the heat grows unbearable. The Smallville Public Library actually has a pretty good sci-fi section and lots of bean bags. As long as they stay quiet, nobody gives them a hard time for being there without parental supervision.
On the days Lillian is too medicated to look after Lena, Lex brings her along, too. “Mom won’t hire any more nannies,” he once explained, “because of Dad.”
Clark does not know what Lionel did to the nannies, and he’s kind of afraid to ask. Stole their families' land, probably. Anyway, he doesn’t mind Lena’s presence. She’s small and quiet and easily carried, and seeing Lex play with her makes Clark wish he had a little sister, too.
Their days come to an end when Lex’s father texts him if you’re not home in fifteen minutes you’re sleeping outside or, more commonly, when Clark’s mother stands on the porch and murmurs, “It’s time for bed, Clark,” to the last of the fireflies.
Clark would like to invite Lex over for dinner sometime, but he knows it would be a bad idea. Martha will be kind no matter what, but there’s no telling what Jonathan might do or say and Clark’s not going to risk his friendship with the only person in the world who has ever understood him for something as small as dinner.
Anyway. Solar flares. Clark rubs at his ears again, equal parts relieved and annoyed. At least his mother was right about it being temporary.
She's usually right.
“What are you working on?” he asks Lex. It’s a question that never fails to get an essay in response, but Clark doesn’t mind because it means Lex’s face will light up. Even if he doesn't understand the words, he understands that his best friend is happy.
He doesn't know exactly how much Lex knows. About him. About what he can do. Probably a lot. Lex never asks questions, like he's afraid to directly acknowledge the hundreds of impossible things that happen in front of his eyes every day, but he never stops watching, either.
Honestly, Clark prefers it this way. Partially because it makes him feel normal, but mostly because if his parents ever ask, "Did you tell anyone?" he can say, "No, nobody," and it technically won't be a lie.