It’s raining now.  

Gusting winds toss hard drops against the windows, the sound rhythmic and strangely soothing.    

You lie there on your bed, hands running up and down the soft sheets.  Stare up at the ceiling, at the odd colored stains that form images that tell stories.  Of relationships gone sour, friends lost, family dying.  

Lying there on your back, feeling the bed comfort you, enclose you, you remember.  

Lex, sturdy, strong, despite the fear you can see in his eyes.  Staring down yet another thug trying to take out the great Lex Luthor.   Sweeping him into your arms just as the gun goes off, feeling the impact of the bullet hit you, making you flinch.  Flying away, looking down into the eyes of your one time friend, lover. Everything.  

I know, his eyes seem to say, words without sound.  I always knew.  It destroys you, this knowledge.  Because of your secret, because of your fear, you lost each other, lost sight of the point of being together.  He couldn’t stand your lying and you were too scared to tell the truth.   

I know.   

Pointless now, your decision.  Leave him, move out of the home you had built with him, take the job transfer to another state.  Perry concerned that you were wasting away in Metropolis. Reminders of Lex at every turn.  Taunting you, hurting you, forcing you to see, to know every day what you lost.   

Pointless now that he knows, he always knew.  It no longer matters.  Lex is still Lex; still striving to be the best, to own everything, to always be the one in control, in charge.  You are still you; still Clark, still Superman, still weighted down by responsibilities you can barely endure.  

Still alone.  

Closing your eyes, you shake the memories off.  Clutching sheets in your hands, you let out a deep, shuddering breath.  It’s been too long.  Too many years have passed.   And yet, looking into Lex’s eyes today, the years faded away to nothing.  You felt as though you were looking into the past.  Seeing again what was.  What *you* once had been. What *he* once had been, *with* you.  

A sharp knock on your door draws your attention and you turn your head, switching to x-ray vision automatically.  You swear your heart skips a beat when you see him.  A skeleton you would recognize anywhere.  Strong bones littered with healed breaks and cracks.  Some old, some new.  Each one a memory.  Of childhood mishaps, adolescent stupidity, adult betrayal by those meant to care, protect. 

You ponder letting him stay there, outside.  Why should you answer?  What would be the point?  He’ll leave eventually. 

You turn back to the ceiling, staring through it, past baseboards and beams, spider webs and dust.  Out into the night.  Clear sky, stars bright and twinkling.   Sometimes you fly up into it, into the silence, into the cold.  Into peace that can be found nowhere else. 

Another knock, louder.  You sigh softly and look back at the door, watching him silently.  Watch him shift from foot to foot.  Rub his neck once.  Drop his hand and finger something in his pocket.  Frown and look down the hall, then back to the door.  Brow furrowed, eyes narrowed, almost as if *he* was the one who could see through walls. 

You run a hand over your face, pushing yourself up almost wearily.  Pick up your shirt from where you dropped it to the floor when you came home, intent on sleep that never came.  You tug it over your head as you leave the room.  

You stop at the door, hesitating.  Asking yourself once more if maybe it wouldn’t be better to pretend you’re gone. To avoid this.  Whatever it may be.  It doesn’t matter that Lex had to have flown all night to get here.  You can still pretend. 

Opening the door will change *everything*. 

You draw the chain back, the sound grating in the silence.  Open the door slowly, only wide enough for you to see him, for him to see you. 

Lex looks up, so many emotions flitting through his eyes you can’t catch them all.  He asks if he can come in, if you and he can talk.  You frown and look away for brief moments.  You ask him why. What does it matter now.  He says please in this soft, almost broken tone and you can’t say no.  You open the door wider, allowing him entrance.  

He steps over the threshold, past you, leaving behind faint hints of cologne and jagged pieces of memories.  

You grip the knob almost too tightly, eyes falling closed as you breathe him in.  

And shut the door. 

END