#lex is plotting

The Break Room

A story Clark had never published had brought him there originally. The coffee shop had spawned what seemed like hundreds of rumors, enough that it would have filled Chloe's old wall. He had done his due diligence investigating each rumor before visiting the shop, but nothing had prepared him for leaving the shop he felt he had spent hours in only to look at his watch and see that no time had passed.

The dark haired man had stared at his watch for minutes, trying to make sense of the unchanged time, before doing a double take at the shop and apartment above it. He came back time and time again since then, investigating the void in space time. However, the more time he spent there, the more Clark felt the situation didn't need Superman nor a mild-mannered reporter poking about.

The owner was kind, a fellow alien, and a magic user who lived above the shop with specially dry roasted beans. They baked homemade sweets every day and kept the store suspended in time with a piece of their home world. They didn't mean any harm, it was just their people's way of relaxing. Upon arriving and getting settled, Het'thie had felt bound to continue the tradition of offering a rest stop without time nor consequence. A bit of respite for Metropolis’s weary citizens.

It was a service that, over the next few months, Clark took reprieve after discovering the tucked away shop. The shop became the one place Clark could sit and relax without guilt overwhelming him. When he was at the Break Room, he could collect himself and rest assured that the world would still be there whenever he decided to leave. He came so often that most of the regulars knew him now, and the shop owner always knew his order before he placed it.

"Another mocha latte and a sandwich, Mr. Kent?" Het'thie asked with a smile, hands already moving to prepare his drink.

"Please, an egg and cheese sandwich this time? I skipped breakfast," Clark said with a smile as he pulled out his card.

"Best not to make a habit of that," they said with a shake of their head. "Everyone needs fuel."

"Now you sound like my mother." Clark chuckled as he paid.

"She's right," they retorted with a wide smile. "Go sit," chin raising to jerk toward the sun-drenched sitting area Clark preferred, "I'll bring it over."

"Thanks, Het," Clark said, already feeling the weight of the last few days fading away.

A sigh left the brunette as he took up his favorite armchair, taking off his messenger bag and putting it on the table that sat between two armchairs. Clark let his broad shoulders sink into the cushioned raised back, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. It was his routine here, ordering, then sinking into the quiet of the café without the sounds of the city, and relaxing into it until Het'thie came with his food. After eating, Clark varied on what he did, from reading a book, or listening to music he normally didn't have the time to, or just sitting and enjoying the warm and welcoming atmosphere within the shop.

Clark was drinking in the unusual sound of only the people within the room and the light music that Het'thie played to fill the sitting areas, when footsteps broke it. The sound of them was too familiar to disregard, but tried to ignore it until the voice that went with the confident gait spoke.

"So, Mr. Kent, this is where you've been sequestering yourself?"