Disclaimer; If I owned them, do you really think I'd be here? A-no.

A/N: --this-- denotes Lex's thoughts.

Reviews/feedback, as always, are very much appreciated.

And I know, the title reeeally doesn't sound like angst. But it is. Mostly... And, also, not only did the angsty bunny get me again (damn nibbly critter) but this turned out SLASHY - big letters in case you hadn't spotted that yet. *grin* So, and I mean this in the nicest possible sense, sod off now if you've got a problem with it. This was originally gonna be a Chlex, which is my 'ship; but this fic turned Clex-y pretty sharpish, which is my other 'ship. Do you have any idea how confusing it is trying to set sail on two 'ships? The views are nice from both, but I get so *tired* rowing back and forth...

Worth it though. :D

--------

Part One: Denial

--------

--I hate corn fields.

Stupid, stupid vegetable.--

Looking around him at the green eaves rippling constantly in the October breeze, a humourless smile alighted on Lex's soft lips.

--Begs the questions what the hell am I doing here again, doesn't it?--

Same town, same field, same month, even; but a very different boy.

Or perhaps not. Already he was resisting the urge to shut his eyes.

//'Luthor's are never afraid, Lex. We don't have that luxury.'//

But he was afraid; and god-damnit he had every right to be! Didn't he? He lost his hair, and his siblings, and his mother; and right now he felt like he was losing himself too. Losing everything he'd worked so hard to make himself be - steadfast; cool, focussed. That was him. *That was Lex Luthor. The man who'd been coerced into trying a cold chicken and peanut butter sandwich by beaming teen, 'because if you don't, you'll always wonder' - that wasn't him. Not *really*. And nor was he the man who'd bought a telescope with the pretense of looking at stars - admittedly so he could talk to the boy about it - only to swing it round and point it towards a little yellow farmhouse.

And definitely NOT the man who'd chosen the truck for Clark in the exact shade of the jumper he'd been wearing that first time, when Lex's first thought after his eyes had fluttered open was how it set off the tan skin.

That wasn't him; that was someone else.

See?

--Denial is not just a corn field in Kansas.--

He could still do it; he could still achieve his goal of getting out of the shit factory, and pissing Daddy off as much as possible on the way. He just had to *focus*.

--No attachments, no problems, no ties.

No smiling.--

Lex broke the head off a nearby stalk in anger.

Clark made him *grin*.

He was losing himself. Losing Lex Luthor in blue, blue eyes and pretty mouth, matched by absolute trust, loyalty and innocence; and becoming that other man. The one who made his masseuse tut because he had new laughter lines on his face.

It couldn't be. It shouldn't be; it had to stop.

--I can't think like this. I've never felt for a *man* before, let alone a six-fucking-teen year old boy!--

It sounds like it should be funny.

But its not.

--I can't let myself do anything; even *if* he could possibly want me. I'd fuck him completely.--

Lex squeezed his eyes shut briefly. Bad choice of words.

--I'd screw- --

A groan. The corn stalk crumpled in his suddenly tightly clenched fist. Deep breath, Luthor.

--I'd *mess* him up. Mess everything up *for* him.--

It was true. He knew it; knew that he would.

--I always do.--

So he'd come out here to think. Ridiculous, he knew, that Here, of all places, should be where he could straighten himself out.

No pun intended.

And yet he has an affinity with this field; both lost their crop together - though his never grew back - and it seems as though it is the only real place where things stop. He needs help to sort out his thoughts, and he is not disturbed Here; the plants surround him in a vaguely protective, watchful sense, and the silence is almost respectful, allowing him to order his thoughts without hindrance.

It owes him that much.

--Right. I can't, I know this. I just can't.--

And yet he wants to.

--Oh, godddd, I want to.--

Expensive pants and jacket be damned, the young man sat heavily down onto the soft earth, lowering his head to his knees and clutching his head in his hands. The lowest button on the coat popped off, but he was too distracted to care.

--Shit.--

'Nicely done, Lex,' he berated himself aloud. 'Fall in love with your best friend - no, your *only* friend. Wait, no; your first, best, only, and *sixteen year old* friend.' He resisted the urge to slap himself on the forehead, settling instead for rubbing his hairless head in desperation.

--Out of all the ways to ruin the only good thing in life, you have to chose that.--

'Sometimes I really hate you,' he sighed.

There was a quiet thump from behind him, followed by a choked, 'What?'

Even as he whipped his head round in horrified, stomach dropping shock, Lex knew who it would be.

--Oh holy fuck.--

He swallowed heavily. 'Clark.'

You'd think that after almost a year of this boy turning up whenever Lex needed help, he could just let *one* day slide. But no. There he was again.

Only, he looked like someone else.

The usual fixtures of jeans and shirt, with wavy black hair lifting in the breeze to stick out in most directions, were there. But the pretty face was slack; eyes impossibly wide, mouth partly open, and his large, calloused hands hung limply by his sides from where he'd dropped his school bag to the ground in shock.

There was an empty look in his eyes that Lex wished he'd never seen, even more than he wished he'd just got back into his car and not walked into this field - which was supposed to be his fucking *safe haven*!

--Damn treacherous place.

I hate corn fields.--

--------