Conner had never given much thought to how he would die. If he had to guess, his own bounding stupidity would be the culprit.
But, smoking his last cigarette and awaiting the executioner, the man who held his very fate like a cat toy, he couldn't find it in himself to regret anything.
He'd started this all with a deathwish, of sorts, so he might as well have ended it that way too.
Conner packed his bags and left the beautiful beaches of Hawaii with a heavy heart. Roxy drove him to the airport, and he tried not to let her pity sting quite so much.
He was not successful.
"You don't have to do this."
Conner shrugged, and turned away from her to stare out the window of the car. She was right. Except for the part where if Conner didn't go to live with Clark now, then he was going to live with Lex. There was no telling Lex Luthor no, and certainly no convincing any grown adult that he could be allowed to live on his own in Hawaii.
"I'd be okay with having you stay with me," Roxy continued, fingers thrumming on the steering wheel as she navigated the airport parking lot.
"Don't be stupid. Your moving away. I can't come with you to college."
"I don't have to-"
"Just promise to send me pictures of the wild parties."
And that ended that conversation.
Situated on the coast was a gloomy city full of gothic architecture. The fog and rain were relentless, giving cover and safe haven to the citizens of Gotham year round. It was here that Conner had spent every summer for as long as he could remember (until he threw a fit and and Clark was forced to let him stay in Hawaii with Rex and Roxy). Ultimately the decision had been fueled by childishness. Conner wanted nothing to do with a "dad" who hadn't wanted to keep him, and eventually Rex's gambling had put a strain on Conner's ability to keep denying Clark's offers to move in.
It wasn't that Rex was a bad guy, per se. Just ditzy. Forgetful. With poor judgement. It was only with the sheer power of Conner and Roxy's combined supervision that the man kept his head above water. And with Rex up and disappeared and Roxy off to Metropolis University, Conner had been left with two options.
Move in with Lex Luthor, the man who, technically, legally, should have been Conner's father, but who had been letting Conner run off and live on his own, supplying cash when needed, since Conner was twelve.
Or move in with Clark, Conner's biological father, a bumbling writer or reporter or something or other who lived in a putrid city and had excommunicated Lex from his life for personal reasons that he denied everytime Conner tried to bring the subject up.
Two absentee dads for the price of one, Conner liked to tell Roxy when they were commiserating their family troubles.
Clark had been predictably pleasant about the entire thing, encouraging even. Which possibly made the entire thing worse.
"I've been arrested, you know," Conner said on the phone, like this would be a deterrent.
"Yeah, but you weren't charged. Do you want me to paint your room? What do you like to eat?"
And just like that, Conner had a place in Clark's life once again like the man hadn't ignored him for sixteen years except when absolutely necessary.
He hugged his jacket (old, leather, a gift from Roxy and Tana one Christmas) around him tighter and tried to pretend he wasn't nervous about the forty-five minute drive ahead of him when the plane touched down.
Clark picked him up from the airport with an awkward hug and a cheerful smile. Clark was large, like some kind of modern day lumberjack, and he dressed like a dork. Sweaters and khakis and plaid layered on each other.
"I'm so glad you're here," was all Clark said.
Conner doubted this and sat in silence on the drive home.
Gotham sat predictably dark and grey outside Conner's window. Somehow the gravity of his choice hadn't hit Conner until, after a drive through winding buildings, he found himself staring up at the quaint gothic two story building Clark rented as long as Conner could remember.
What the hell was he doing? How could he possibly think that coming out here would do him any good? This wasn't wasn't just a case of a new school this was bigger than that. Four years Conner had spent on his own. And before that Lex hadn't been much for company. The idea of uprooting everything he'd known his entire life for a city he hated and a man he barely knew finally made itself known as the terrible idea it was and he had half a mind to make a run for it now. At least on the streets he could avoid Clark's well meaning smile and friendly invitation to cook dinner.
Unfortunately no matter how he looked at it, Clark seemed like the only option, so it was with a heavy heart that Conner climbed the steps into his new home.
His room was small. Closet small. The kitchen was cramped. The pipes creaked at night, and the neighbors down stairs threw dishes when they fought. Conner missed his quiet but warm place in Hawaii already.
"You'll learn to love it," Clark said as something downstairs shattered and a screaming match started. He did not look convinced.
Conner took a deep breath, facing his room and ignoring Clark.
He could survive this.
Step one would be minimizing the amount of problems he and Clark would have with cohabitation. Then he would have to tackle catching up in school. If he could focus exclusively on those two things, then he would be eighteen, and no amount of lawyers that Lex threw at him could keep him from running off into the sunset.
"Do you like meatloaf?" Clark asked, popping his head into Conner's room without asking and looking clueless.
Conner sighed.
He would survive.
The Gotham Unified School District held standards exactly as abysmal as Conner had anticipated. His own school back home hadn't been anything to brag about. Small, low buildings, 200 students max. Conner had known most of his class by first name. Outside Edward Elliot High School Conner wanted to kick himself for being so out of his depth. A large building like a cinderblock, with high fences and barbed wire all around, it sat about three bus stops away from Clark's apartment. Metal detectors stood by every entrance and a bored guard eyed him. It looked like the kind of place that scrubbed graffiti off the walls constantly and armed teachers with guns.
He was half an hour early. Only kids looking for free breakfast were even there. Conner sighed and considered seriously skipping.
"Hey. So, you gonna stand there all day, or am I gonna get my breakfast? It's french toast day, so you're gonna wanna move fast."
Conner whirled. A grinning, auburn haired boy waggled his eyebrows at Conner and waved.
"Yeah I'm talking to you hotstuff."
"Sorry I'm new."
All at once the boy's attitude changed. "New? By golly gee wiz, well congratulations, today is your lucky day for I, Bart Allen, am here to be your tour guide. Vámanos."
Conner could not have protested if he tried, because before he had even opened his mouth, Bart grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him through the the metal detector with a wave to a guard who seemed annoyed, but not enough to stop them.
"In case you were wondering, you can totally still sneak knives in if you know how to hide them," Bart said as soon as they were out of earshot.
"I wasn't."
Bart grinned back at him. "Oh boy you are new. Where you from?"
"Hawaii." Bart led him through the school courtyard towards what Conner assumed was the cafeteria.
"Sweet."
Conner made quick friends of Bart. Sort of. Bart mostly just yammered on as they picked up free breakfast from less than pleasant cafeteria workers. Conner left Bart with no less than three invitations to sit with him at lunch "if you don't find anyone better."
Conner was still miserable, purely on principle at the moment, but he rather found he liked Bart's general willingness to be nice.
With that in mind, he tried to keep his spirits up as he got his schedule from the front office and checked in properly, just in time for the first bell.
Conner felt later that it needed to be stated, on the record, that everything that happened following his arrival at school and leading up to his eventual death, was entirely the fault of the Look. The Look, and the Waynes.
School passed uneventfully for him. Bart shared English with him, and a girl named Stephanie happily offered to shepherd him to all the classes they shared (English, Chem, and Spanish) while her quiet friend followed along.
He took up Bart's offer of a table for lunch and by the time the bell rang and he'd grabbed his food, he had no less than five people crammed around a small table, acting like they'd known him forever. Conner was finding it hard to hate Gotham entirely with such cheerful company.
They asked him about Hawaii, about beaches and volcanoes, and he happily recounted dumb field trips and trouble he and Roxy had gotten up to when left unattended. He left out Rex. And Clark. And Lex Luthor. It was nice to be normal, in some marginal way, and he decided to himself he would milk that for all he could when he looked up and locked eyes with a stranger across the room.
Startled blue eyes looked away, but it was too late. The moment sealed Conner's fate.
"Who is that?" He asked Stephanie.
She turned around.
On the far side of the cafeteria were the five most beautiful people Conner had ever seen. One, the one he'd locked eyes with, was lean, lithe, with an angular face and a sweep of black hair. He was exceptionally pale. To his right sat a boy who looked older, almost too old for high school. He had similar piercing blue eyes and muscles for days. Across the table was a dark skinned boy, with short, black hair cropped tight to his head and a warm smile. He seemed to be talking to the youngest, who, though gorgeous in his own right with gelled up spikes and a fine featured face like a cat, scowled at his companions. The final member of their group was a girl with silky black hair, straight and chin length, and an elegant poise.
"Those are the Waynes," Stephanie said, in a voice that heavily implied that Conner should know this and also that she did not like them very much.
"They're...pretty," Conner said lamely. The boy with the pale skin never looked back up at him but Conner continued to stare.
Stephanie took one look at the table and laughed. "Don't even bother. They don't talk to anyone but each other. It's weird if you ask me."
"Get turned down?" Conner couldn't help it.
Stephanie took it in good stride and leaned over conspiratorially. "See the pasty one?"
"Yeah?"
"Timothy Drake Wayne. Crazy rich. Crazy dumped my ass after two weeks of dating," Stephanie said with air quotes around the word dating.
Conner took her hand and looked into her eyes very seriously. "Stephanie, I know I've only know you for a day, but I swear on my life, and my mother's life, that should I ever be so lucky as to date a girl like you, I would worship the ground you walked on, kiss your feet, help your mother around the house, and talk politics with your father like a real gentleman."
"Conner Kent," Stephanie said, tone equally somber, "I'm a lesbian."
The jeers and hoots they got from their table audience were worth the mild flush on both their parts as they giggled and Conner released her hand.
"Are we gossiping about the Waynes?" Bart asked, steering the conversation back on track.
"Are they all Waynes?" Conner asked, skeptical given the racial diversity of the kids at the far table. He noticed with dismay as he looked back that Timothy Drake Wayne had left while he and Stephanie made their jokes.
"Oh boy, don't you know their dad?" Bart asked, looking excited at the prospect of gossip. "It's Bruce Wayne."
"The Bruce Wayne?"
"The very same. He does the whole Angelina Jolie thing and picks up kids like accessories," Stephanie said.
"That's nice." Conner said, "So what's their deal?"
"They're deal is they're rich, better than everyone, and don't talk to anyone. Approach at your own risk," Stephanie said.
The conversation then helpfully jumped to the topic of English class, and then to dreaded P.E. in last period. Conner allowed himself to follow it loosely, thoughts preoccupied with the minor celebrities who apparently attended his public school.
It would be Conner's luck that on the first day, at a new school, with barely new friends, he wound up sitting next to Timothy Drake Wayne in Chemistry.
It wasn't fair, really. The raven haired beauty took one look at Conner as the boy sank into his newly assigned seat and practically shuddered in revulsion. He glared with barely concealed venom, and pointedly scooted his seat away from Conner's general direction.
They were off to a fantastic start.
"Welcome, class, back to school, I know summer has been long and that many of you have forgotten last year's safety demo, so let's revisit it, shall we?" a Ms. Isley said. She was a redheaded woman, with a clipped tone, and the way the class bolted upright told Conner she was not to be trifled with.
She proceeded to use one of the lab tables, several chemicals, and with utter delight, set said table on fire.
"Chemistry is dangerous," she told them, standing above the flames looking a little bit like a supervillain. "Make sure to wear closed toed shoes on lab day."
They spent the rest of class taking notes. Conner doodled in his notebook and tried to ignore the feeling of dread that emanated from Tim's tiny presence. Once or twice he looked up, only to see the other boy flinch and scowl, like his looking had been offensive. Conner resolved to ignore him. Tim hated him on what appeared to be zero grounds, and Conner...well Conner could play ball. He resolved to hate Tim just as hard and shot the boy a glare minutes before the bell rang.
As Tim darted out of the class, Bart approached Conner with sympathy in his eyes.
"I think he likes me," Conner said, looking after Tim's retreating form. Bart laughed and they walked together to Gym.
When the day's end came, and Conner found himself in a better mood than when it had started. After all, he'd killed it in gym, had at least three new friends, and the school had a weightlifting class that he was kind of actually looking into signing up for.
In all his life, Conner had never found school so easy. With Lex it had been homeschooling as an excuse to keep him from seeing other people (especially Clark). And with Rex no one had cared if he went to school but the administration. He was so used to the faculty knowing his name that there was palpable relief from the anonymity his new life was turning out to offer.
And if some rich kid happened to hate him? Well, Conner had faced far worse and come out the other side the better for it.
His phone buzzed on his bus commute back from school.
3 Unread Messages
Clark: Ordered chinese. In fridge. Ask Roy for key. We'll get you one this weekend.
Lex: When are you moving back to Metropolis?
Roxy: Got a message from dad. Call me.
Conner sighed, good mood dissipating, and deleted Lex's message and number from his phone.