i.

Lex’s dad always said that religion was for people who needed someone to spell their beliefs out for them, who didn’t have the self-confidence to believe in themselves. Lex never bothered to set foot in church until his mother died. Faith in his father felt phony after that.

He sat in the back of the church, staring at his hands, sitting very still and focusing on the way the wooden pew dug into his shoulder blades. Lex heard the shuffling of feet in the aisles and the priest chanting echoes into the room. No one bothered with him, sitting alone, outwardly normal for his age in every way except the obvious. Inwardly broken without her.

Something kept scuffling in the seat directly in front of him. Little boys sitting under their father’s arm, squirming in matching polo shirts and khaki pants. Lex stared at the back of their heads, wincing when their father kissed one, two on the forehead. The smallest shifted sideways, inclining his head and demanding more attention. He saw Lex and frowned.

Lex straightened in his seat and looked back. He did not touch his hairless head, even though habit dictated it. The boy frowned deeper and reached for his father’s hand.

"What? You’ve never seen a dead person before?"

"You’re not dead," the boy scoffed.

Lex smiled, a joyless act. He had survived the falling of the sky, but he wouldn’t survive this.

"I am," he said.

ii.

Clark has fantasies about Lex.

Lex brings the truck by himself, the day after the accident, and his parents are too embarrassed to turn Lex away in front of Clark. They think maybe Lex is trying to do the right thing. His father shakes Lex’s hand and says, "I’m glad you made it through the accident," and Clark becomes Lex’s best friend in two days instead of ten.

Lex gets a new Porsche and it’s dark lavender, just like the bruises Lex gets after he’s been attacked, after Clark has rescued him. He lets Clark drive it, shows him how to coax the gears into place, and laughs when he sees how much Clark loves it. They go to a field at the back of the Kent acreage and lean against the warm hood and Clark tells Lex stories about the stars. The sky is perfectly clear and there are stories Lex doesn’t know.

Lex stops by the barn at night, late, when Clark’s parents have gone to bed. He is tired from work and his eyes are heavy. He sags down into Clark’s lumpy sofa and slides his head onto Clark’s shoulder. Doesn’t even think about it. Just presses his forehead against Clark’s neck and sighs like it’s the most normal thing to do.

Lex is on his knees and Clark’s dick is in his mouth, and Lex refuses to open his eyes even when Clark is coming and gasping. Clark makes declarations in mumbles and run-on sentences. Lex sits back on his heels and says, "I almost love you." Clark opens his mouth to question but kisses Lex instead.

Clark knows it’s as close as Lex will ever get.

iii.

He enjoys running the most on clear days when the sky stretches like a bright blue ribbon no matter which way he chooses to go. On the day Lex leaves the sky is blue and endless. Empty, like Clark.

He runs like a child, a normal child, tripping over nothing at all, blind in his panic. Clark never guessed nothing could hurt so much.

The running doesn’t hurt at all. There’s no shortness of breath, no dull ache in his legs. His palms don’t sting from the time he stumbled forward on the gravel-strewn dirt.

He thinks that if he runs far enough he won’t feel left behind. But even if he runs forever, he’ll never catch up.

The sky is a constant ribbon of blue over his head. It isn’t comforting.

~ fin

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