Chapter Text
Clark
His day began all the same. Keyboards clacking, coffee spilling, Lois and Perry arguing. To anyone, this would be mildly annoying, it being 7:56 in the morning. But Clark Kent...oh he loved it. The constant bustling, chattering, creating, it was all so familiar to him after his many years spent in Metropolis. Every moment he sat down, his fingers buzzed with adrenaline. Of course, he was nothing compared to his best friend, Lois Lane. Stubborn yet kind-hearted, she was the heart of the Daily Planet, a fact that even Perry agreed with. The truth was, he loved her. Not how everyone at The Daily Planet thought he did, but in a way where when Perry sighed with defeat and she walked off with that smug look on her face, Clark couldn't help but shake his head and smile. Obviously, Lois knew she wasn't his cup of tea.
Growing up, Clark always knew there was something different about him. Despite being an alien with superhuman powers, there was more to it he couldn't place his finger on. The realization eventually hit the summer of 6th grade. It was cooler than usual, clouds filling the sky and a gentle breeze kissing his nape. He'd been riding his bike home when he found an abandoned magazine on the sidewalk of his humble town. As a curious child would, he fanned through the pages when something caught his eye.
Sexiest Man Alive
Eleven-year-old Clark couldn’t suppress the deep blush that rose up his neck. Since that day, Ma knew something was going on. She always did. Eventually, a week later Clark confessed what he thought would’ve gotten him shipped right back to Krypton. Instead, he found himself sitting in between his parents at their kitchen table, pre-adolescent legs dangling above the ground.
“You can’t control who you love, honey. Just like how we love you unconditionally, you’ll find someone to love as well. It won’t matter their gender but who they are in their hearts.”
A smile from Ma. A pat on the back from Pa.
From that day on he never spoke of it. In college, his roommates teased him for never “getting with” girls. Whatever fun they got out of that, who knew. To Clark, it all seemed like a distraction from what really mattered: helping others. Majoring in journalism wasn’t the start of Clark’s desire to make a change in the world. For as long as he could remember, he had an indescribable urge to help people. Whether it was complimenting a stranger, tipping a bus driver, or holding the door open for a lady, making someone smile was all he needed to feel good about himself. Until recently.
He was very aware of his alien abnormalities. Kryptonian biology was sure to be much different than any human's. But, as long as he was fulfilling his duties as a good citizen, he’d be content. Yet…things weren’t going as well as they used to. Every day he had the same routine. Wake up, get ready, grab coffee, work, come home, and sleep. Minus a couple “kitten in the tree” incidents throughout the day which requested Superman’s appearance, Clark was…bored.
In many ways, Superman being unneeded was a good thing. No major threats had struck Metropolis since Lex Luthor pulled his Earth-shattering stunt months ago. But without any problems to solve, Clark’s alter ego wasn’t around much, meaning no interesting articles to publish, and more importantly— nothing for him to do. Now, he sat alone at his desk, tuning out any possible noise that might’ve been directed towards him.
Then, a bang.
Immediately, Clark snapped his head towards the threatening sound, ready to take action. What he found instead was a stack of books that seemed to have been dropped next to him.
“Chill out, Smallville, I’m only trying to get your attention. You’ve been slumpy all morning, did you have your coffee today?” The dark-haired woman in front of him sighed.
“Gosh, Lois, that scared me!” Then, realization. “Have you been talking to me this whole time?” A sheepish blush tickled Clark’s ears.
Rolling her eyes, Lois pulled out a file from under her arm. The cover read Lead Infiltration - Kent. Setting it down, Lois held a look of suspicion on her face.
"Boss wants you to cover this, get it in by tomorrow."
Clark looked through the file, scanning evidence and examining witness' remarks on the matter.
"This is just basic water contamination happening in the suburbs, why does he need me to do it?" Clark's voice faltered with offense before he could stop it.
Raising an eyebrow, Lois simply stated,
"He's in charge, write the story or ask him yourself."
Admittingly, Clark was glad to have something to do, despite it being a rookie level case. Something to take his mind off of why he suddenly felt so...empty.
"Yeah, okay, I'll do it."
Lois lingered by his desk. "There's something bothering you, and it's not this story."
"I'm fine, Lois. Just tired." He lied, forcing a thin smile.
How could he be tired when all he did nowadays was laze around waiting for crisis to strike? The city had noticed the decline of Superman sightings. Sure, every couple of days he'd patrol around the city, hand a kid a lollipop, and fly around looking busy. But in reality, Metropolis didn't need him anymore. Crime rates had gone down drastically, and some folks were still worried about his "real purpose" on Earth that had been revealed months back. Maybe it was time for something new, whether he liked it or not, Clark needed a change. Being as intuitive as she is, Lois questioned him further.
"I know you're not tired. Your stupid alien genes don't allow that after sitting at a desk all day. Which, speaking of, has been the only thing you've been doing these past couple of months. I can tell you-"
Miss being Superman, Clark thought.
"Are lonely, Kent."
Bewildered, he straightened his glasses and furrowed his brows.
"What are you talking about?" The man scoffed. As much as Clark respected Lois, he couldn't agree with her this time. He had everything he needed, a job he liked, friends, loving parents, what more could he ask for? As if unbothered by Clark's sudden defensiveness, she continued.
"In all of the 5 years I've known you, you've never once talked about seeing someone. You're in your twenties for god's sake. In a city like this, you could have people lining up for you!"
"I appreciate you looking out for me, but don't need to date, Lois. I'm perfectly content on my own! Plus, I already have people I love in my life, including you. And even if I started seeing someone, how could I explain the whole...you know." Clark gestured to his chest, where the famous symbol rested under his white dress shirt.
"Sometimes I wonder how a smart kid like you can be so dumb at the same time."
Unconvinced, Lois sighed and walked off, returning to her computer across the room. Clark was left in his own thoughts once again. He wasn't like others; he didn't need a partner to feel complete. In fact, it would be selfish of him. He had Ma and Pa, Lois, Jimmy, the Justice Gang, and occasionally, Krypto. Adding someone else into his complicated life would cause more harm than good. Whatever this weird phase was, he was sure he'd get out of it. The only reason he was feeling like this was because he had nothing else to do. What he really needed, he thought, was a distraction.
.
Bruce
"I'm not doing it, Alfred, my decision is final."
Running his well-manicured fingers through his dark hair, Bruce Wayne hung up the phone. Frustration didn't even explain how he was feeling. Since 2021, his career had been going downhill. It wasn't a hard job, which he often admitted, yet for some reason he couldn't take it anymore. The constant cameras, attention, fake smiles...he hated it. He hated going outside and being followed to the store. He hated working with incompetent douchebags. The list went on. As of recently, he especially hated the lack of money that was coming in.
Growing up, Bruce was surrounded by wealth. With his parents being the highest paid actors in the 80's, money was the only thing he knew. This fact alone led to his own nepotism and financial stability for life, no matter how shitty his movies were. For the past few years, every day on set was the same. He practiced his lines, performed with little to no interest, fought with Alfred, and went home. Not only was it draining, but it was leading to a rapid decline in his bank account. No one wanted to see an aged Bruce Wayne play the same role in every movie. While he still looked strikingly handsome, people missed the young, excited actor he once displayed on screen. In reality, he never enjoyed it, but only recently had he allowed it to show. Bruce was aware he acted like a privileged asshole, but there wasn't a point in faking niceties if it wasn't authentic. He had no one to impress anymore, as both his mom and dad, Martha and Thomas Wayne, passed away when he was only eight. That infamous night had been the leading influence of his life ever since the first gunshot went off. Sure, Alfred was there for him, but even he was getting tired of Bruce's latest attitude.
Bzz
Bruce's phone lit up with a text message, vibrating the glass table beneath.
You need this, Bruce. Flight's tomorrow @ 7. Be ready.
A deep groan escaped his mouth, filled with exhaustion and anger. Alfred really didn't know when to stop. In some cases, Bruce could appreciate it. He pushed him to try new things, be a better version of himself. However, in this case, Bruce found himself holding back the urge to start looking for a completely new manager.
From what he’d been told, he was being offered a new role for an upcoming movie. He hadn't bothered to read the script his agents sent him, since he knew was going to turn it down eventually. Alfred, being the optimist he is, believed this would be the comeback Bruce needed to reboot his career. On the other hand, the defeated actor had already accepted this was the end of his movie-making days.
There was a time when Bruce Wayne's movies were the highest grossing films of the year. His performances were described as "compelling", "raw", and even "jaw-dropping". He'd heard it all, from the best critics to the worst. Now, there wasn't much to say about his projects. When he had the energy to check, almost all of the feedback he read followed along the lines of "bland", "stereotypical", and "repetitive". At a young age, Bruce realized he couldn't let negative criticism get to his head. But scrolling through his most recent movie's comments, he couldn't help but agree with every 1-star review. He knew he'd lost his touch— long before the media caught up to him.
Now, laying on the couch in his soulless living room, Bruce decided he couldn't deny Alfred for long. As reluctant as he was, nobody could say no to the man, especially knowing how much he cared. To Bruce, Alfred wasn't just his manager. There was a time when Thomas and Martha worked with him as well, and despite the foggy memories, Bruce remembered the old man always being there for him. Now, it was time to respect his wishes as much as he respected Bruce's.
Bruce had the practice memorized: what to pack, where to go, who to call. It was just up to him to get the process going. He dragged himself to the master bedroom, which appeared almost untouched due to his unspent time at the manor. If he was being honest, almost every room felt untouched.
From what he could remember, the last time someone (who wasn't Alfred) stepped foot in the cold mansion was years ago. Bruce knew he was lonely, and that didn't bother him. Loneliness was one of the only constants in his life, ever since he was a boy. His earliest memories consisted of silent dinners, shut doors, and quiet nights. In some ways, it was comforting. He never had to worry about someone else's feelings, which was a relief since he could barely manage his own. The manor had always been a dark place, especially after the death of his parents.
Flicking on a warm light, Bruce thought about what he'd need to pack. He never brought much, since most of what he'd need would be in his trailer already— courtesy of his team. Midway through opening the weather app, Bruce realized he didn't even know where the movie was being filmed. His mind had been so disconnected as of lately that he'd been forgetting the most mundane things. He took a glance down at his watch, catching a glimpse of his sunken eyes in the glass.
1:18 AM
Letting out a sigh, the man decided packing could wait until the morning. Despite it being earlier than usual, Bruce’s body reminded him the last time he felt this tired was weeks ago. Allowing himself to climb in bed, he figured he should take the chance while he had it to catch up on missed sleep.