"Then I will too. Even if you get older, even if your hair turns completely gray, I'll still recognize you and stay with you," Soren leaned against Clark, his eyes sparkling, "Ah… by then, I'll be an old man too. When I see you, I'll ask, 'Mr. Kent, why have you turned into an old man too? How old are you now?'"
He giggled, rolling over and gently touching the gray hairs at Clark's temples before planting a soft kiss on them, "By then, we two old men better not dislike each other~"
Clark smiled and grabbed his wrist, "Don't worry. Even if you turn into an old man, you'll definitely be the most handsome old man in the world. How could I ever dislike you?"
"No, no, no, you would be the most handsome old man," Soren teased playfully.
His wrist shrank slightly, and he easily slipped it out of Clark's grasp, "I'd be the most charming, witty, and wise old man! You know, the type of grandpa in movies who always drops wise advice at the last minute to wake up the hero!"
Clark burst out laughing, wrapping his arms around Soren's waist and pulling him close, "Right, right! You'll be Gandalf, Dumbledore, or maybe old Spock—"
His voice grew softer as their faces drew closer.
Their noses were nearly touching.
Soren's face flushed pink.
His heart raced as they stood face-to-face, so close he could feel Clark's thick black lashes almost brushing against his skin.
Their breaths mingled, and for that brief moment, both of them froze in time.
In each other's blue eyes, they found their own reflections.
"Clark…" Soren whispered, a hint of complaint in his tone, "Why aren't you kissing me?"
—Being this close and still not kissing?
What a waste of time and atmosphere!
A deep, low chuckle resonated from Clark's chest.
His hand cradled the back of Soren's head as he explained, "Sorry, I was just so mesmerized looking at you. You know, it's like there's an entire universe in your eyes."
Soren became incredibly flustered by Clark's words.
"No, no, it's not that exaggerated!" he mumbled in denial, his soft, moist lips plump and trembling like delicate petals—until Clark kissed him.
Clark's tongue was warm and strong, teasing Soren's own tongue inside his mouth.
A shiver ran through Soren's entire body from head to toe.
His legs weakened, his hands felt limp, and his toes curled instinctively.
His fingers clung tightly to Clark's cape, and he let out soft, muffled sounds: "Mmm… uh…"
They hid within the clouds, Soren still in his Angemon form, his white wings trembling lightly.
Clark's hands gently stroked the base of his wings, his fingers slipping between the feathers and brushing them softly.
Every time Clark touched a feather, Soren's body would twitch, almost like a reflex.
"Stop playing with my wings!" Soren slapped Clark's arm lightly.
Clark immediately withdrew his hand, but as his fingers left the densely packed feathers, they couldn't help but graze a few more.
Soren trembled all over, his face flushed bright red, "Stop it… it feels really weird…"
Flustered, Soren quickly retracted his wings.
Clark pulled him into a comforting embrace and whispered, "Your wings are beautiful. There's nothing weird about them."
"It's not that kind of weird," Soren muttered, his face pink as his lashes fluttered.
He tugged on Clark's collar and stammered, "Let's… let's go to the Fortress of Solitude…"
But Clark caught Soren's hand and lifted it, pressing it to his shoulder, leaning in to whisper in his ear, "No."
"We're going back to Kansas," Clark murmured, placing a soft kiss along the edge of Soren's jaw.
...
The consequence of constantly fooling around whenever and wherever was that Soren ended up asking his employer for three full days off.
Oh, and it was Clark who personally went to the store to request the time off.
When their plump, middle-aged boss, Mr. John Marcus, saw Clark walk into the bookstore, he almost fell off the ladder in shock.
Clark, with a gentle and humble demeanor, explained that due to Soren's health, he would need to take a few days off before returning to work.
Mr. Marcus quickly nodded his head in agreement, not daring to voice any objections.
So, when Soren finally returned to work, he noticed that his boss's attitude toward him had become almost unnaturally kind.
Not only was Soren no longer asked to do heavy lifting or manage inventory, but Mr. Marcus also earnestly sought his input, asking if Soren thought their 5 p.m. closing time was too late.
Soren responded, "No, please, let me be a proper employee! Our closing time isn't late at all. If you need, I can stay and work overtime until 9 p.m."
Mr. Marcus wiped sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, nervously replying, "Well… actually, our bookstore doesn't have many customers. I was thinking maybe we could close at 3 p.m., haha… haha."
His laughter sounded forced.
Soren looked at him, puzzled. "But we still have some young customers who stay in the store until it's time for dinner."
Mr. Marcus looked up at the ceiling as if searching for an answer, "Uh, well… okay, fine. So, you'll keep getting off at 5 p.m.? You're okay with that?"
"I'm happy to work for you," Soren said, scratching his head.
He enjoyed working at the bookstore.
Half of the store was filled with comic books, and every afternoon, many kids and teens would come by to read or hang out.
Occasionally, he'd even meet a few fellow sci-fi fans, all of whom were talented and great conversationalists.
Soren loved spending time there!