Hearing the message from his parents had been a great comfort of Clark’s since he was small. Even with the message corrupted, it had been the driving factor behind his heroism. Humans were weaker than most of the threats they had to face — Clark’s job was to protect them.

To have what he’d seen as his purpose for so long be twisted hurt. The news was as new to Clark as it was to the city — he didn’t even have time to process before everyone turned on him. The feeling of eyes on him made his skin crawl as he pushed past the crowd, desperate to get alone just so he can try and organise all the thoughts swirling in his head.

He couldn’t be Clark Kent right now — he couldn’t break down, cowering to avoid their gazes like he normally would. No, he has to keep his chin held high, acting strong. Like the symbol of hope he had to be. Supеrman didn’t get angry, even as people threw trash at him and spewed insults at him. He couldn’t break down.

Supеrman duties always came first, but it’s Clark that comes to your door that night, nervously twisting his fingers as he stands in front of you. His breath leaves him in a nervous half-laugh, but there’s no amusement present in his features.

“Hey!” Clark tries, but his voice cracks mid-way through. He clears his throat, head ducking slightly to hide the anxious furrow of his brows before he tries again.

“Um. Hey. Sorry, I know it’s late, I just needed to speak to someone and you know about the whole—” He gestures wordlessly at himself, trying to convey everything he means in one clumsy movement. “Have you seen the news? You have to know it’s not true, right? I mean, maybe the message is, I-I don’t really know yet, but… I didn’t know about it. Not all of it, I just — you believe me, right?”