They don't show much on television. Whether that's because they're not allowed or if they simply can't – if the invaders' technology is preventing them from doing so – she doesn't know. When it does come on, it is a reporter sitting behind a desk giving shallow, broken, incoherent bits of information or someone calling in to give their alien eyewitness account, trying to gain their fifteen minutes of fame. From what she does gather, she learns that a majority of this is happening in her hometown. In Kansas. What extra-terrestrial beings could possibly want in Kanas she can't fathom.
(Except that she can, really. She can. But she's been trying not to think about it for years.)
She's just glad she has no one there to worry about. No ties to that lonely town. Maybe she'll be lucky. Maybe they'll take out her parents' house in the midst of their war and lift the burden from her.
All the news reporters, eyewitnesses, everyone around her, can't stop talking about the superman. The alien that's been hiding among them for years. All anyone can produce so far are blurry pictures, short video clips that show a flash of blue and red. (He wears a red cape, apparently. She almost rolls her eyes because it's so much like comic books that if she didn't know any better she'd think some geek pulled on a blue bodysuit and tied a red sheet around his neck and decided he was a superhero. But she doesn't. Because it's real. The warzone that is her birthplace after the battle is proof of that.)
No one gets a good glimpse of him. Until weeks after the whole thing's over and they've sifted through all the footage they'd accumulated. And even then, his picture isn't very clear. A five second shot from a few dozen yards away. Then he flies away, out of the picture.
She almost doesn't pay attention to the news report. She doesn't think they'll ever be hearing from this supposed 'Man of Steel' again.
She almost doesn't pay attention.
But she does.
She glances up from her scrambled eggs and coffee and then can't look away. Because she knows immediately. Without the need to double check, to pause or rewind the story. She knows. Even though she's been trying not to think about it for years.
She doesn't need to rewind and pause the breaking news, but she does anyway, because it's been so long since she saw him. She stops on the moment his eyes dart toward the camera, then puts down the remote and creeps toward the television. She kneels in front of the screen, brings her fingers up to rest on his face. She lets them linger there, tears welling up in her eyes. She'd tried not to think about it, but she'd remembered every bit of it. Every moment. Every second she'd ever shared with him.
A smile spreads across her face.
"Clark," she whispers.
"Sarah's having a party tonight. Her parents are out of town."
"Cool," she answered him.
"Are you going to be there?" he implored, pushing his blonde hair out of his eyes and leaning up against the lockers next to hers.
"No."
"Why not?"
She pulled her trigonometry book from the top shelf. "I don't think I'm invited."
"Sure you are. You and Sarah are friends."
She rolled her eyes. "Sarah hasn't talked to me since fifth grade, Josh."
"Oh," he said, looking down and turning his keys over in his hand. "Well, I invite you then. Sarah's brother tells me that she's half in love with me. So if she gives you any trouble, tell her I told you to come."
"I'm not going, Josh."
"Listen, I swear Sarah will be okay with it. I'll even warn her beforehand that I invited you. Then I can pick you up or something and we'll hang out and have a great time."
"I'm not going."
"But Lana, I invited – "
"Are you inviting Clark too?" she asked pointedly, staring into her locker.
He didn't answer her for a few seconds. Then, he weakly mumbled, "No."
"Then I'm not going."
"Look, I know you're a nice person, and you hang out with him because you feel sorry for him –"
"I don't feel sorry for him," she spat. "I like him. He's my best friend." She slammed her locker shut and slung her backpack over her shoulder. "I'm going home, Josh."
Josh grabbed her arm, stopping her. "Lana. Okay, so he's your best friend. Whatever. But you don't have to hang out with just your best friend. It's okay to see other people."
"Sorry, but I'm not interested in spending time with people who make fun of him, who leave him out of things and never attempt to get to know him and call him a freak. So if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to skip Sarah's party. Thanks for the invite, though. I'll see you Monday, Josh."
She pulled away from him, and was halfway down the hall when he called out to her.
"It's a pity, really."
She stopped, but didn't turn around.
"It's a pity," he continued, "because you're so pretty and nice and smart and you could be so popular and well-liked. But you're not. You're right. Sarah hasn't talked to you since fifth grade. No one's really talked to you since fifth grade. You don't have any friends. Because you insist on hanging around with that – that freak," he sneers. "And you can try to tell me that he's nice, smart, a good person, but none of that really matters because he is a freak and he doesn't belong here. He'll never belong here, or anywhere, and you know that just as well as I do."
She pressed her lips together, closing her eyes.
"I'll see you Monday, Josh," she said curtly, and continued on to the door.
He was waiting for her, sitting on the ground, knees pulled to his chest, back against the brick of the school building. A baseball cap hid his eyes from her.
"He has a point, you know."
She stole the hat from his head and hit him with it, then sunk down to the ground beside him.
"Hey, that wasn't very nice."
She put it on her head. "It's mine anyways."
"You left it at my house last night. I thought it was a present."
"Not a chance. This is from the first Royals game my dad ever took me to."
"Then you shouldn't just leave it lying around random places."
"It wasn't a random place. It was your dresser. I knew you would take care of it."
He glanced at her, a smile on his face. It fell immediately.
"What?"
He sighed.
"You've been crying."
"Really?" She wiped at her eyes, and felt moisture on her fingers. She could sense the change in his demeanor, and placed a hand on his bicep. The muscle was tense beneath her fingers.
"Clark, don't worry about it. It's not a big deal, really. I didn't even notice until you said something. And you know that I cry basically anytime I experience any heightened emotion. It's nothing."
"He made you cry," he grumbled. "He said terrible things to you. I'm sick of everybody saying terrible things to you because of me."
"I told you to stop listening."
"I can't just stop listening. I naturally hear it. And it's really hard to tune out. Especially when it deals with you."
She exhaled deeply.
"Look, I wasn't crying for me. I couldn't give a shit what Joshua Miller or any of those other people think about me."
"Then why were you crying?" he inquired.
She looked away from him, suddenly embarrassed. "I was crying for…well, for you. Because I'm sick of people being able to say whatever they want about you and no one doing anything about it. The teachers don't care, the parents don't care, because they all think the same thing. And sometimes I just want to grab them and shake them and force them to see…"
"See?" he entreated her.
"How amazing and special and beautiful you are." She hid her face in the crook of her arm, because she was blushing now and she tried to hide it as much as she could. He saw it anyway, she knew.
"Sometimes I wish so badly that you could punch them, Clark," she mumbled.
He laughed gently. "So do I."
They were quiet for a few minutes. Eventually, he began to pull on her head. She turned toward him, and he stared into her eyes, searching. She didn't know for what. After a moment, she began to blush again.
"What?"
"You can go to that party tonight," he told her. "If you want to. I won't mind. Really, I won't."
She shook her head.
"No, thank you."
He looked up at the sky. "Like I said, he has a point."
"And what is that?"
"I am a freak, and I don't belong here. And you would have such a perfect life if it wasn't for me."
She rolled her eyes and elbowed him. "Stop that. See, this is why I told you not to listen. I don't believe what they say to me. You do. And it makes you think things that aren't true."
"But they are true. You just choose to ignore them."
"Yeah, I do ignore them. Because you," she said, linking their arms and resting her head on his shoulder, "are worth one million of them. I had my choice, and I chose you. And I would still make the same decision."
He placed his hand over hers on his arm.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"No problem. And that's the sweetest thing I'm ever going to say to you, so you better cherish it."
He laughed, and moved to get up, taking the cap off her head as he did.
"Hey! I said that was mine."
She hopped up, but he held the hat above his head, and she knew she had no chance of getting it back.
"You left it at my house last night, so it's mine for the rest of the day."
She watched him put it on his head, and she placed her hands on her hips.
"Whatever. You can be a real pain in the butt sometimes."
They walked to his truck, and she jumped in the passenger seat, trying once more to get the hat back, but failing, as he always seemed to be two steps ahead of her. He grabbed her hand and placed it in her lap, then rolled down the windows.
His bad mood earlier had left him entirely, and they laughed together the whole ride home, the wind in her hair and the sun on her face.
She doesn't even realize she's going until she buys the plane ticket, one way into the Kansas City International Airport. She throws some clothes in a bag and then calls work, telling them a personal emergency has come up. They ask her for proof. So she quits.
It's crazy. It really is. It's been fifteen years. He probably doesn't even remember her.
He's probably been trying not to think about it.
She wonders if he's succeeded more than she has.
Author's Note: Just for your information, I know little about the Superman Universe except the extreme basics. I saw Man of Steel and I loved it so so much, but I wasn't sold on the Clark x Lois romance, and I'm obsessed with his life growing up in Smallville. Thus, this fic was born.
Let me know what you think! Love and thanks to you all, xo.