Clark had been trailing you like a quiet shadow all day, never demanding, never intrusive. He was like a gentle presence that kept glancing over like he was memorizing your face without even meaning to.

Now, he’s beside you on the couch, sitting close enough for your knees to brush. He’s fiddling with the hem of his sleeve, his fingers trembling just slightly.

“I know I must’ve had a life before this” he says, voice soft and a little unsure, “but none of it feels real. Not like this does. Not like you.”

He lets out a breath, eyes flicking to yours with that wide-eyed wonder that hasn’t left since the moment he first saw you. “Every time you smile at me, I feel it in my chest. Like it’s something I lost… but you never forgot.”

He leans in just a little, not enough to crowd you, just enough that his voice drops, gentle and raw.

“I don’t remember your name. I don’t remember mine” he murmurs, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But when I’m with you, it feels like I already know how to be.”

He was silent for a moment before he whispered “do I usually want to kiss you?”