#clarkmcrrison

Putting some time between himself and the last conversation they’d had had been a good idea. For John, it had almost felt like they’d just broken up again; sure, they hadn’t been together in months, but that potential to be back where they started had lit some warm hope in him, and John had been disappointed to see it flicker down again. They both wanted the same thing: they couldn’t agree on what the best way to do that was, though. For John, the end could not justify terrible means, and for Clark, the pain of the Fifteenth didn’t seem like enough of a reason to turn his back on the group. –– It sucked. Royally. 

John had kept his distance, hoping that something would happen which would convince the boys one way or the other: something would be revealed which would make looking for a third option the only choice, or siding with a group which condoned using any means necessary would become the only thing to be done. Neither had happened. In fact, on the political front, things had been quiet. For John, it was almost too quiet, and he disliked that he was now waiting for the second shoe to drop. He had been a defiant optimist for so long that expecting the worst grated even on him.

John ran into Clark entirely by accident. If he had been paying attention, he may have caught Clark’s thoughts, but a distracted mind was the best way to sneak up on a telepath. Rounding the corner and seeing Clark had been a bittersweet surprise, but John put a smile on.