Love made even his Kryptonian brain, which is the fastest in the universe, tangled and chaotic.
Love made him hesitant and self-destructive.
Love made him, at times, feel pain as if he were a reef pried open with a needle, and at other times, feel happiness as if he were a king with the entire universe in his dreams.
But he became increasingly aware, day by day, that he loved him.
...He had visited every distant nebula in the universe, but the only star he missed was this one, his only star.
Kryptonian blue eyes were like the deep blue sky.
An amber streak, slowly unfolding in this boundless sky, resembled the dust from a star explosion that had taken millions of years to reach Earth.
Soren's breath caught.
His face flushed, his mouth slightly opened, but no words came out.
He was stunned by Clark's astonishing confession.
His mind had turned into a mess, with emotions tangled together, confusing and unclear.
He didn't know how to handle it.
At that moment, a bright beam of flashlight illuminated him.
He instinctively raised his hand to shield his eyes from the light, while Clark, startled, blurted out, "Mom?"
At the end of the cone of the flashlight beam, Martha's surprised face was illuminated in the darkness.
She was wrapped in a knitted scarf, wearing slippers, with her hair falling over her back, holding the flashlight, standing on the field ridge, and looking at Clark with a puzzled and questioning expression, "Clark, what are you doing standing here?"
Clark almost floated away.
In a panic, he hastily hid Soren behind him, flustered and stumbling, "I—I came back... I came back to get something."
Martha pulled up her scarf and walked over to him, puzzled, "What are you holding? Your dad and I heard you come back earlier. What did you take the medicine cabinet for? Clark, are you injured?"
Soren's face went pale in an instant, and he clutched Clark's sleeve tightly, trying to burrow into his hand, determined not to let Martha see him.
"I'm not injured," Clark repeatedly denied, stepping back, "I took it to Metropolis. A friend of mine got hurt."
Martha shone the flashlight on his face, repeating the process several times.
Her expression grew puzzled; no one knows a child like a mother, and seeing Clark's face, she could tell he was hiding something.
...What could it be?
Martha didn't ask outright.
She scrutinized Clark and changed the subject, "What are you doing standing in front of the Hargreaves's house?"
Clark's face turned bright red!
He stammered, "Uh... I, I..." struggling to come up with a reasonable answer.
Clark was experiencing what felt like his first social death.
As Martha took a step toward him, he took a step back, almost pressing his back against the Hargreaves's wall.
Martha became more concerned and furrowed her brow, "...Clark?"
Clark: "I'll head back now, Mom!"
"Don't be in such a hurry to leave," Martha said, sighing, "Alright, I won't ask you any more questions. You're grown up now, and we should give you some personal space. Since you're already back, why not stay home and sleep tonight? I just changed the bed linens for you."
Clark: "Uh— I have something…"
Martha looked somewhat resigned and gave a gentle smile, "Clark, you've always been terrible at hiding things since you were little. I can tell when you're lying."
Clark was at a loss for words.
His face was burning with embarrassment, a level of shyness that had not surfaced when he said those three words to Soren now doubled in intensity.
He couldn't lift his head, like a big dog caught doing something wrong, nervously trailing behind Martha.
"Mom…"
Martha glanced back at him, "Aren't you leaving? Do you want to wake up Uncle Hargreaves and Auntie?"
Soren anxiously patted his palm.
Clark, with his hands behind his back, comforted Soren with his fingers, sighed helplessly, and followed Martha's lead.
They crossed a short stretch of field ridge, walked through the cornfield behind the Kent farm, and returned to Clark's most familiar home.
As soon as Martha entered the house, she turned on the lights.
Before the light filled the room, Clark, moving in less than a nanosecond, quickly hid Soren under his cape.
"…I'll go upstairs to sleep now, Mom. Rest early, I'll be back to work in the morning."
Clark hurried into his room, his red boots thudding lightly on the fragile wooden stairs, causing the entire little house to tremble slightly.
Soren's heart was racing with anxiety in his hands.
As soon as Clark shut the door, he couldn't wait to peek out from Clark's grip, his big eyes sparkling like delicate crystal buttons, and said angrily, "How could you… how could you bring me to your home!"
Clark, feeling helpless, replied, "I had no choice… Martha insisted I stay, and I couldn't find a way to refuse her."
Rorschach said anxiously, "What should I do? I don't want Martha and Jonathan to see me like this. They'll tell my parents…"
"I'll take you back early tomorrow morning, before they wake up," Clark gently placed him on the pillow, "It's too late now, so just rest here, okay?"
The small pillow was fluffy and soft, with a floral cotton pillowcase that still carried the laundry detergent scent Clark used to have.
Soren sat on the pillow and suddenly felt a wave of nostalgia—
Many years ago, he had sat here, keeping Clark company as he fell asleep.
Back then, he was still his little kitten.
He would always curl up beside his young Clark's pillow, keeping the little boy company as he grew up day by day.
It seemed like in the blink of an eye, Clark had transformed from that soft, delicate-haired Kryptonian boy into the tall, handsome Earth guardian standing before him.
This Kryptonian fool, who had only become more annoying with age, still kept saying he loved him…
Soren's mind was a mess, his heart beating irregularly.