The more Soren spoke to Clark in that soft, watery tone, the harder it became for Clark to bear it.
His breathing grew heavy and erratic, and he didn't know where to look.
He simply couldn't face Soren directly.
Every time he saw Soren's pale, radiant face...
It was as if Soren was his personal ignition switch.
Soren glanced down, his face flushing red as he quickly looked away, embarrassed.
His blue eyes, as clear as pebbles submerged in a stream, glistened as he gently tugged on Clark's hand, whispering so quietly it was barely audible, "Clark, let me help you."
...
Clark's entire body tensed up as he held onto Soren.
Meanwhile, Soren who is exhausted, muttered in frustration, "Why are you still not done... Can you hurry up... My hand is so sore!"
Clark kissed the sensitive skin of Soren's ear and neck, letting out a deep, rumbling laugh from his chest, like the sound of boulders rolling down a mountainside.
His large hand enveloped Soren's, guiding it until the very last moment.
"Be careful," he warned, releasing Soren's hand at the final second and covering it with his own.
He pulled Soren into a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of Soren's neck with his scorching breath, "...I love you."
however, despite the warning, things still ended up splattering onto Soren's face.
Soren's expression was utterly blank.
He looked like a child who had snuck an entire can of sweetened condensed milk from the fridge, intending to squeeze it onto a sandwich, only to twist the cap too hard and accidentally squirt it all over his own face.
Their clothes were a complete mess, tangled together in disarray.
Mortified, Soren yanked at his shirt, pressing his forehead against Clark's chest, "I just changed into these clothes this morning!"
Clark sighed helplessly, patting his back, "Alright, alright. I'll help you clean up. Here, wipe it off—"
He lifted his own T-shirt to wipe Soren's face clean.
After wiping away the mess, the skin left behind was flushed a bright red.
To Clark, it was so incredibly cute that he couldn't help himself.
Filled with affection, he leaned down and planted a kiss on Soren's cheek.
...
Soren and Clark spent the entire morning together at the Kent farm, practically glued to each other.
They were in that intense phase of love where every moment seemed like an eternity of attraction, neither of them willing to be apart for even a second.
Clark was completely addicted to kissing Soren.
Even when he was carrying him back to the Watchtower, he couldn't help but steal several kisses along the way, like an over-affectionate, giant puppy.
Their brief time together at the Kent farm was so perfect, it felt like a wild dream that Clark would never have dared to even imagine.
But, unfortunately, he couldn't stay with Soren any longer.
Batman had already sent multiple messages, urging him to return and handle some urgent Justice League matters.
Clark couldn't ignore his responsibilities, as much as it pained him, so he had no choice but to reluctantly take Soren back to the Watchtower.
After laying Soren down on the bed, Clark spoke to him gently, "I'll come back to take care of you and apply your medicine as soon as I'm done… If you need anything, make sure to use the communicator to reach me."
Soren, lying on his stomach, absentmindedly played with Clark's white cape, his long, pale fingers tracing its fabric.
He turned his head, his big blue eyes gazing up at Clark. "But when will you be back?"
"I'll be back as soon as I can," Clark assured him, cupping Soren's face in his hands before giving him another kiss.
Soren looked reluctant to let him go.
He sighed dramatically, flipping over onto his back, "Fine, I'll wait for you here. But I'll be bored all by myself. Come back soon."
Clark's heart practically broke at that.
In that moment, he wished he could revive the already-dead Mad Hatter, and shrink Soren back into a tiny little person again, so he could keep him with him at all times, attached to his side wherever he went.
The thought of leaving Soren alone on the Watchtower was becoming unbearable.
He needed to find a way to keep Soren closer to him.
As Clark pondered this, he realized that the Justice League headquarters in Washington, D.C., was now the safest place on Earth, with the densest concentration of law enforcement.
As long as he made sure to keep Soren away from the Avengers and their world of chaos, everything should be fine.
Clark coaxed Soren in the same tone one might use with a child, "How about moving to Washington, to live at the Justice League headquarters? Would you like that? You could hang out with Billy, Barry, and the others."
"Really?" Soren immediately flipped over, excitement lighting up his eyes, "I can live in Washington?"
"If you like it there, of course you can," Clark replied, gently running his fingers through Soren's hair.
"I want to go! I want to go!" Soren exclaimed enthusiastically, "When can we move? I really don't want to stay on the Watchtower any longer…"
Clark chuckled softly, "Be patient, Soren. I'll try to make it happen as soon as possible."
"Okay," Soren reluctantly let go of Clark's cape, "But remember, come back soon, Clark."
Clark bent down, placing a kiss on Soren's hand, "I will."
He left the Watchtower, floating in the vacuum of space, turning his back on Earth while facing the Watchtower.
His white cape drifted softly behind him in the weightlessness.
His Kryptonian blue eyes moved ever so slightly, unable to resist glancing back at the window to Soren's room.
Behind that window, Soren's dark head suddenly popped up.
He peeked out, and across the vastness of space, he stared back at Clark through the glass.
For a few seconds, they locked eyes amidst the swirling stars.
Then Soren beamed, a radiant, sweet smile breaking across his face.
He opened his mouth slightly, huffed a small puff of fog onto the glass, and then—silly as ever—drew a clumsy little heart with his finger on the window.