BLACK HOLE SUN.

❛❛ i’m only three, b-man. everything is an acquired taste for me. ❜❜ three, or seventeen ! either way, young. even on top of that, he does not taste food the same way humans do— his senses on this planet that bore him are a million fold in comparison. food, to some extent, tastes the same as air, or as any other molecule. he experiences life so differently, but he’d never know it. strong flavors are the best. maybe the cucumber sandwiches will step it up !

then, just as he is getting ready to lift, the child’s smile falters. dims, somewhat, like he’s nervous. it gives him pause. kon’s known all along that there’s kryptonite housed in this cave— it’d incapacitate ( and poison ) him the same way it does his father. tim had used it on him, the first time they ever met. lex luthor used some against him not but last year. maybe … he should go.

❛❛ oh, um- my invulnerability has been set in stone since i hatched, mister wayne. you don’t have to worry about that. ❜❜ physical pain, at least, he rarely worries about— but in his few years of life, kon - el has known all manner of mental and emotional agonies. if he lets his mind drift, he’ll dwell on it, so ! back to the task at hand. finish up quick, and get the hell out of dodge.

without so much as a grunt, nor any other type of effort indicated, kon lifts the great machine with all the ease of an earther picking up a pebble. its weight creaks and complains against itself, but he seems unbothered, even as some loose metal clangs to the ground a foot below his float - zone.

puts it where it needs to go. there ! easy enough.

the idea that Kon almost was lost forever feels like something SHATTERS, suddenly the conversation becomes so real . Bart has LOST Kon before . ( something he can’t, just can’t experience again . ) and he’s broken every rule of time and space to fix it . but for a moment he feels HELPLESS to make his best friend feel better, because horrors like these are things even he hasn’t figured out how to cope with yet .

❝ hey . hey … ❞ Bart interjects gently, he can’t bear to listen to Kon talk about himself that way . he’s significantly shorter, but hands still reach up to WIPE at the tears .

❝ that’s not gonna happen . Kon, you and every other hero will protect the world, and I’m always here to look out for YOU . ❞ he jostles Kon just a little, hands on either side of his face, trying to get through .

❝ you’re not the only one who’s BROKEN reality . I’ve done it . but I didn’t do it cause I’m EVIL and neither did you . all that shit doesn’t MATTER anymore . past, future, alternate timelines, hypertime, whatever .❞

the mournful blue of the kryptonian's eyes glitters beneath all the water they hold. he can't stop crying. the voice used to speak again is not full of the bold bravado and energy it usually carries, but a hoarse whisper :

❛❛ i feel like something bad is going to happen because of me. ❜❜ because he wasn't good enough to complete the single job he was sent out to do. heavy head drops even further into bart's palms, gaze falling downward. kon - el can't shake the dread, no matter how high he flies, how fast he runs, how strong he is. there's no lingering, visible marks of trauma on his body, but there the scars remain stubbornly in his psyche. fresh from the mission failure, kon has always taken losses hard. at least he's sensitive enough to know he needs his friends for support ... at least he came to bart.

And a cold void larger than anything visible.

And a space so small it foams in uncertainty.

the clone often times seems immensely more alien than his father— only eating socially, food being unnecessary to sustain him. sleeping exclusively when he must recuperate from a massive display of power, instead of nightly like the natives of this planet do. difficulty lies in obscuring his truest nature, but here he knows he does not need to.

to right himself, kon - el floats upward until his feet are beneath him, but he still does not set them back down upon the earth : rather remains suspended without gravity, and smiles as bright as sol.

❛❛ okay, deal. and— i mean— if alfred made some of his famous sandwiches, i won’t say no. ❜❜ he removes his signature leather jacket, imbued with great care all sorts of patches … and most importantly, his s - shield. beneath it are the long, blue sleeves of his shirt and the shoulders of the next generation. he sets that precious item aside carefully, and taps his hands together.

not the father and son's first journey into space. these memories within the stars sit fondly in the old el's mind. the first time he took his not even a fledgling child into this dark expanse kon was too terrified to even let go of his father's hand for even a second - afraid he would be lost in this final horizon. it made clark chuckle reminiscing on it. even now, kon didn't like losing sight of his pa ... some things don't change quickly, do they ?

with kon's hand in hand they both touch down on a planet. this place was more of a rest stop sort of planet. there was locals but there also was all walks of life that landed here to fill up their ships and have a good meal. with all walks of life came uncertainty. clark knew this. simple cargo drivers, bounty hunters, to killers. the father intended on keeping kon close ... he wouldn't have brought kon on this investigation mission if he didn't think he was ready.

❝ they'll be friendly enough. lets just stay on our toes ... and don't stray too far from me, alright ? ❞ clark looks at kon with a reassuring smile holding both of his shoulders before they set off.

here on this planet clark was to meet with an informant to find maxima's fleet. shes the princess of a warring people. as a ambassador of space clark couldnt let her do what she wanted ... ( it would not be his first time seeing her neither ... kon didn't need to hear any of that. thought clark’s strange past with that woman was sure to resurface. ) ❝ we need to wait for my informant... do you want to try a cool space non alcoholic drink in the mean time ? ❞ clark motioned to the bar stools.

❛❛ boo, ❜❜ he jeers in good humor to his dad, and floats himself merrily onto a bar stool. kon has no shyness to ask : ❛❛ hi ! can i have a drink? not one that makes you feel funny. alcohol free. ❜❜ matter - of - factly, parroting his parent. the barkeep deadpans towards him. kon seems not to notice, and swings his legs in high spirits. he’s excited, after all, to be on an op like this with his parent and his greatest hero. a … less than appetizing beverage is set in front of him, and kon grasps it with both hands. he stares, sourly, but decides, eh ! might as well try what the locals give him. his first sip isn’t too bad. he drinks more. kinda— chalky ! but he’s had worse things in his mouth.

❝ it’s good to see you too, man . always . ❞ he blinks back to reality and hugs Kon back warmly, smiling softly in fondness .

that grip tightens, however, at the mention of HYPERTIME . Bart pulls back to look his best friend in the face with wide gold eyes, smile fallen and concerned recognition across his expression .

most people didn’t even KNOW what that concept was, nonetheless had any experience with it . less often, an experience they could remember . Bart was one of the few outliers, in fact, one of the people with the MOST firsthand knowledge he could actually recall . … and hypertime rarely left somebody feeling CHEERY, so yeah, he was worried .

❛❛ well—.. the justice league sent me on a mission, and— i— almost didn’t make it back, bart. ❜❜ that’s the simplest, least painful version of things. not enough detail, aggravatingly vague. the threat of tears chokes kon and stings unearthly, blue eyes.

❛❛ i s-saw— a lot happened. where do i start? so many mes. one of them was hurting so many people. he hurt me really bad. i didn’t even stop him, bart ! i couldn’t- and he trapped me, and i … i saw everything slipping by, all of time and space, like i was stuck outside of it in a prison. ❜❜ a lot of word - vomit from the young kryptonian, and not wholly coherent, either. like his psyche is as fractured as how he shattered reality ( for a second, anyway. long enough to escape ). those tears, finally, begin to make their way down his freckled cheeks.

my version of kon-el ! 💛 the sunshine babie

“keep still.” the cowl betrays none of the concern etched into his furrowed brow and into the downturn of his mouth, but the cool irritation in his voice certainly does. in the safety of the batcave, the batman hovers over @supercopy, his eyes scanning him for any splotches of red or a missing limb. the machine he had tumbled out of hums a high-pitched tune next to them and from the corner of his eye, he spots a spark bounce from one exposed wire to the next. that's the very least of his worries though. while he continues his quick search (he even picks up kon's hands, counting each digit), the soft chitter of bats is all that sits between them.

then his hands are splayed out, and the same blue of his father’s eyes snaps back to the batman— mouth presses into a thin line as he listens to it all : the human’s heartbeat, the creatures that reside in here, the hum of electricity and circuitry. even the settling of the earth as it groans deep in its crust. batman gets up, offers an arm, kon takes it and rises as well. unceremoniously dusting himself off, as if being a little dirty really matters to him at all ( more of a display of bruised dignity ).

❛❛ huh ?! ohhhhh, we don’t have to get my dad involved. i can just, uhh— go back through the machine? yeah ! ❜❜ ( he was definitely supposed to be patrolling metropolis and not nosing around the outskirts of gotham ). ❛❛ mister w- um, batman, sir. ❜❜ the young el fidgets with his gloved hands, picking at the frayed edges where he’s clipped the fingers down to his knuckles. ❛❛ i’m sorry about tumbling in, it was an honest mistake ! i just heard the energy— i wasn’t trying to mess with your stuff, i promise. i was just— ❜❜ trying to see tim? nope ! avoid that topic.