"Maybe, but I forgot after waking up," Soren scratched his head, tossing the blankets aside, grabbing his clothes, and hopping into the bathroom to wash up, "Did you rest before coming, Clark?"
While brushing his teeth, Soren stood on tiptoes with the foam in his mouth, and raised his voice to ask.
Clark replied, "I don't actually need sleep. The yellow sun provides all the energy I need."
"Oh, photosynthesis!" Soren teased.
Clark grinned, flashing his bright white teeth in Soren's direction.
Sensing Soren was in a much better mood today, Clark asked, "Did you play games yesterday?"
Soren took a capful of mouthwash, rinsed for a moment, and spat it into the sink, "No... I just watched some DVDs."
Though his tone was light, he gripped the faucet tightly as he spoke.
After wiping his face with a towel, he looked up and saw his reflection in the mirror—his complexion eerily pale.
He gave the figure in the mirror a smile that looked more like a grimace, using two fingers to push the corners of his mouth upward, forcing a smile despite his stiff facial muscles.
He had to smile.
Meanwhile, Clark was in the kitchen making breakfast for Soren.
The Watchtower was equipped with automated cooking machines and service robots, but Clark still preferred to prepare Soren's breakfast by hand.
Everything had to be done just like a regular person.
He sliced a piece of butter and heated it in the frying pan until it melted.
Then, he took the toast stuffed with ham and cheese, cut it into small portions, dipped them in beaten eggs, and slowly grilled them in the pan.
As he worked, his expression was gentle and focused.
He wore a simple white T-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants, looking as clean and wholesome as the boy-next-door from one of Soren's dreams.
Soren stood behind him, captivated by the sight of Clark's lean waist framed by the elastic waistband of his sweatpants.
Mesmerized, Soren reached out, grabbed the sides of Clark's T-shirt, and wrapped his arms around him from behind, pressing gently against his back.
He buried his face in the dip of Clark's back muscles, taking a deep breath of that ever-present scent of blood, as if trying to inhale it into his body, engraving it into his heart and lungs.
Clark let out a soft chuckle from his chest.
He turned his head slightly and asked patiently, "What's the matter? Hungry? Just a bit longer, it'll be ready soon, don't worry."
Soren shook his head and mumbled in a soft, almost playful tone, "No, I'm not."
Clark flipped the toast, and the rich scent of butter quickly filled the kitchen.
He cut off a small piece with a butter knife and brought it to Soren's lips, "Wanna try?"
Soren opened his mouth and cautiously bit into the toast.
After chewing it carefully, he swallowed it and his eyes lit up, "Delicious!"
Clark smiled slightly, turned off the stovetop, and plated the French toast onto two plates before setting them down on the kitchen island.
He poured Soren a glass of milk, "Take your time. I'll stay with you today."
"Really?" Soren looked up, seemingly surprised, sitting on a high stool by the island, resting his face in his hand, his eyes sparkling with excitement, "All day? You won't leave the whole day?"
Clark sat across from him, gazing into Soren's eyes, which seemed to hold tiny stars.
He couldn't bring himself to say anything that would make those stars dim.
He thought, Soren must have been terribly bored being alone in the Watchtower these past few days.
He should've come to keep him company more often.
"Yes, all day," Clark nodded.
Soren grinned, lowering his head to carefully cut into his toast, "I'm really happy you can stay with me."
They spent their time together in the lounge. Soren leaned against Clark, completely absorbed in playing <
He hadn't played this game before and was maneuvering Geralt, the Witcher protagonist, through the city, preparing to head outside the walls.
He pressed a button on the controller, making Geralt jump down a small step.
But to Soren's shock, the Witcher suddenly rolled on the ground, and four large words appeared on the screen: "You Are Dead."
Soren: ??????
A twenty-centimeter-high step killed a Witcher???
Clark, who had been working on his tablet, heard the in-game death scream and looked up at the screen, seeing the black "You Are Dead" message.
He quickly comforted Soren, "Don't worry, did you save the game?"
"How did he die from that fall?!" Soren exclaimed in disbelief, gritting his teeth as he reloaded the game.
Once the game finished loading, he guided the protagonist back to the same spot, "From this little height? On this step?"
Once again, Geralt in the game walked down the step, screamed in agony, and died a tragic death.
Soren: "..."
Clark: "Hmm... Let me take a look."
He took the controller, and tried maneuvering Geralt around the step, but the silver-haired Witcher still fell and let out a scream before collapsing.
Clark furrowed his brow.
Clark: "This game might have a bug."
Soren was questioning life itself: "Can a Witcher really die from a fall like this?"
Unconvinced, he stubbornly tried several more times, but each attempt ended the same—death on that unremarkable little step.
Soren, who was usually able to speedrun every AAA game in the shortest time, was on the verge of losing it. "How do you
not die from this?"
Clark sighed and put an arm around him, "Maybe we should try a different game?"
At the same time, he started contacting Cyborg through his communicator: "Victor, could you ask <
Victor, far away on Earth, received the message: "?"
Soren angrily tossed the controller aside.
Clark caught it and asked, "You're done playing?"
"Yeah, I'm done!" Soren moved aside and turned around to rummage through the pile of comics Clark had brought for him.