The cold lights of the hallways beat down on the metal lockers with an almost suffocating consistency. Footsteps echoed amid scattered conversations, loose laughter, and doors closing with muffled snaps.
Clark walked down the central corridor, hands in his pockets, his dark jacket hanging loosely over his shoulders. The smell of disinfectant mixed with old paper blended with the faint scent of feminine perfume in the air.
He turned right.
Stopped.
Alicia was leaning against the wall by the water fountain, alone. Her backpack lay on the floor, her shoulders hunched under her light coat. Her loose hair fell over her face, hiding her eyes.
Her legs were still, as if time around her had slowed.
Clark approached slowly, his steps so light that only the squeak of his sneakers betrayed his presence.
She didn't look up.
His heartbeat slowed subtly.
"You still upset?"
Alicia raised her eyes as if woken from a very distant dream.
Her gaze was wet, but not from tears—it was the kind of shimmer that comes after them.
"I'm not upset."
Her tone was low but firm.
"I'm trying not to get in the way."
Clark leaned against the wall beside her, crossing his arms calmly.
"You're not in the way."
"But you said no."
She turned her face to the side.
"I just wanted to help."
'I know.'
He sighed through his nose, unhurried. The ceiling light flickered over the worn floor.
"I didn't let you go to my mom's because I don't want to mix things."
Alicia bit her lower lip, her fingers tightening around the strap of her backpack.
"You're scared of me."
"I'm not scared of you."
"Then why push me away?"
"Because… when I care about someone, I do it right."
She looked back at him.
"That doesn't make sense."
Clark tilted his head slightly.
"You're seeing it as punishment. But it's the opposite."
Her breathing quickened, almost imperceptibly.
"Then explain."
"After class today, I'm visiting my parents."
She blinked.
Her breath stopped.
"Clark…"
"You're coming with me."
Her eyes widened as if the ground had shifted beneath her feet.
"I… you want me to come along?"
"I do."
She couldn't respond right away. The seconds between words felt longer than the steps to get there.
"But… you said you didn't want…"
"I didn't want you there alone."
His gaze was steady, calm. Like a rock against the current.
"But with me, it's fine."
Her chin trembled faintly. Her chest rose and fell in a restrained rhythm.
"You're inviting me… to meet your mom?"
Clark raised an eyebrow.
"You already know her."
"But not like this."
The weight of her words landed in the air like the soft chime of a bell.
"You said no to me this morning. And now you're inviting me?"
"It's not just an invitation."
Alicia's eyes widened. Her heart was beating too loudly for the quiet corridor.
"Is it an order?"
"It's a choice."
He stepped away from the wall, his shoulders relaxed.
"But you know that when I invite someone…"
She nodded before he could finish.
"I'll go."
Her eyes shone.
"Of course I'll go."
Clark turned, taking a slow step down the corridor.
"I'll wait for you at the exit. East door."
Alicia grabbed her backpack, her fingers still trembling.
"Clark…"
He stopped, glancing over his shoulder.
"Thank you."
A faint smile curved his lips.
"See you later."
She stood there, frozen, her heart racing in her chest.
The corridor felt empty, even with people passing by. Everything was muffled inside.
She leaned against the nearest locker, closing her eyes for a second.
'He invited me.'
'After everything, he invited me.'
Her body warmed from the inside out, as if she'd plunged into a cup of hot tea.
The words echoed like a mantra.
'He wants me there. With him. At his house. With his mom.'
Her blood raced through her veins.
'He trusts me.'
A smile appeared.
And then, Alicia walked slowly down the corridor.
As if the world around her were a stage built just for her to cross.
---
Luthor Mansion
The black car passed through the gates unhurriedly, tires gliding over the gravel as if carrying the weight of an entire city.
Lex rested his head against the window, the bandage on his leg throbbing faintly under his well-tailored pants. His dark coat was thrown over his shoulders, his gaze lost somewhere between the aligned cypresses and the starless sky.
"Smallville."
The word escaped as an irritated sigh.
The car stopped. The driver got out first, but Lex was already pushing the door open before the man's hand touched the handle.
The country air was clean, but Lex could still feel the smell of gunpowder stuck in his throat.
He climbed the steps with heavy strides. The doors were already open. The staff stood silent. No formal welcomes.
"No one follows me."
His tone was dry. Short. Sharp.
He entered.
The mansion's silence was welcome. No sound but his own footsteps echoing through the corridors.
He passed straight through the foyer, ignoring the study, the meeting room, the paintings, the clocks.
He stopped only when he reached the bar on the lower floor.
He shed his coat, tossing it over a chair. Loosened his tie with an impatient tug.
Poured whiskey.
One sip. Another.
The glass hit the marble with a hollow thud.
"This town… is sick."
The words came low, as if spoken only to himself.
"But Gotham… Gotham's a tumor. A hole dressed up for a gala."
His hands gripped the glass tighter.
"Never again."
His face twisted briefly between anger and exhaustion.
"I went to Wayne's party. Took a bullet, lost a watch, and gained a scar."
He glanced at his reflection in the dark glass of the wine cabinet.
"If that's not irony, I don't know what is."
He downed the rest of the glass in one go.
Set the crystal aside.
Silence returned.
Only the muffled tick-tock of an old clock in the corner.
"Bruce Wayne…"
He closed his eyes for a second.
"The king of disguises. The wolf dressed as a ghost. I bet while I was bleeding, he was just… smiling."
A dry laugh escaped his throat.
"Of course he was smiling. Gotham's his playground."
He ran a hand over the back of his neck, his shoulder muscles stiff.
"But that was the last time. I'll only go back to Gotham armed to the teeth or with an army."
The pain in his leg throbbed again.
"I don't even know what was worse: the bullet, Selina, or that piano playing while the bodies dropped."
He sat slowly in the dark armchair.
Leaned his head back.
Closed his eyes.
"Back to the hell I know. Smallville. Where the monsters have names, and the weapons, at least, shoot straight."
He took a deep breath.
"No masks."
The silence felt more comfortable now.
And even if only for a short while, Lex Luthor rested.
In the town where chaos had a name, and he knew how to play it.
Bonus Chapter Available!
Enjoying my work on "Between Curses and Secrets," "DXD: The Awakening of Phenex," or "Reincarnation in Smallville"?
Then I have a surprise for you!
By supporting me on Patreon, you'll gain access to exclusive bonus chapters, behind-the-scenes content, and much more.
Your support means the world to me and helps me keep writing the stories you love.
Support here: patreon.com/22Mirko22
Thank you so much for reading — see you in the next chapter!