Lex stood by the window long after the phone went silent, the hum of the city below grounding him.
The light creeping through the curtain sharpened the room's every imperfection—the peeling paint near the baseboards, the uneven floor where his bed sagged in one corner. Everything felt distant, like he was watching someone else's life through glass.
Lex exhaled slowly.
This was real. The past.
His phone buzzed again, the sound muffled by the sheets. He ignored it.
Instead, Lex crossed to the small closet by the door, yanking it open with a soft creak. Rows of forgettable clothes stared back—oversized hoodies, worn sneakers, the kind of wardrobe someone with too much money but no direction wore.
Lex's gaze drifted to the top shelf, where a polished black shoebox sat tucked away. He pulled it down carefully, lifting the lid.
Inside, a Rolex Submariner glinted beneath the pale light. A gift from his father's last Christmas alive. Lex's thumb ran along the cold metal, but he didn't put it on. Not yet.
Instead, he placed the box on the dresser and reached for the mirror.
Lex met his reflection's gaze, running his hand over his jaw.
Seventeen again.
His face was softer but still held that edge—like he already knew too much about the world.
There was a knock at the door. Lex's shoulders stiffened instinctively.
His mind snapped to the penthouse—the memory of Barnie waiting in the dark, gun resting against his leg.
But the penthouse was gone.
"Lex! You alive in there or what?"
The voice yanked him out of the spiral.
Lex frowned, stepping toward the door and pulling it open just enough to see Trent, standing in the narrow hallway with his usual smug grin.
Lex's expression didn't shift.
"What do you want?"
Trent leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed. His hair was gelled within an inch of its life, and the faint scent of overpriced cologne followed him.
"You're late," Trent said, eyes flicking toward the clock over Lex's shoulder. "Barnie's already at the office."
Lex didn't move.
Trent grinned wider. "Unless you wanna explain why you're skipping out on Uncle Barnie's little invite?"
Lex held his gaze for a moment, silent.
You have no idea what's coming, do you?
Finally, Lex stepped aside and grabbed his jacket from the bedpost. He slid it on, adjusting the cuffs slowly.
"Relax," Lex said smoothly. "I'm never late."
Trent's grin faltered just slightly, but he covered it with a laugh.
"That's the Lex I know."
Lex shut the door behind him, locking it without looking back.