You’re only awake so early because the bed’s empty, Clark’s consistent warmth noticeably missing from his side.

Some days, he just has to get up and go do super things, but he always leaves a note if that’s the case.

No note. Not today.

You shuffle out of bed, blanket pulled tight around your shoulders. No sign of Clark anywhere in the apartment, but—

The window out to the fire escape is opened, just enough to let a chill in.

He’s sitting on the fire escape, legs crossed with a mug of hot cocoa in his hands (he says that coffee gives him the jitters, which you’ll never understand).

You push open the window high enough that you can step through, out onto the metal landing of the fire escape. When you open the window, he turns to look up at you (as if he didn’t hear you walking through the apartment the whole time).

The sun is just starting to peek over the horizon, and he’s basking in it, drinking in the sunlight like a flower, eager to bloom.

“Wanted to catch the sunrise—thought I could get some sun in before you woke up,” he admits sheepishly, the slightest tinge of pink staining the tops of his cheeks.