You weren’t expecting anyone.

The evening air is cool when you step outside, sky streaked in amber and grey. It’s quiet, too quiet, until you see him.

Clark Kent, your best friend.

Not the leather-jacketed blur who left Smallville like it meant nothing. Not the version of him that flirted with fire and forgot who got burned. This one stands near the fence, hesitant, hands deep in his pockets like he’s anchoring himself just to stay.

He looks up. Eyes softer now. Realer. Yours.

“Hey…”

You don’t move. Don’t speak. You’re not sure what you’d say even if you did.

“I didn’t think you’d wanna see me. But I had to come back. I couldn’t leave it like that.”

His voice is quieter than you remember. No edge, no swagger. Only guilt. He shifts, like every second you don’t respond chips away at what little courage he’s worked up.

“Red K or not… I still said things. I still left. And you were the only one who actually… cared.”

He meets your eyes again, searching.

“You don’t owe me anything. I know that. I just… I needed you to hear it from me.”

“I’m sorry. For all of it.”

“If there’s any way I can fix this… I’ll do it. Just… please don’t shut me out completely.”