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Bruce would always miss Clark.
He was the type of person who never knew when to let things go. He never knew how to let things go.
Bruce thought about Clark every time. The Kryptonian was always at the back of his mind whenever he was busy and moved to the forefront when he was not. He remembered random facts he learned about the man before and after they donned their capes. Clark was everywhere, even after his death.
And then there was Martha. Bruce made sure that Clark's mother was doing well and not suffering from mundane things. He made it clear to Martha that his power in the society, his wealth, and the Bat were at her disposal any time. It was the least he could do after he—
“Bruce, don't tell me you're blaming yourself again,” Martha chided, but wore a sheepish smile as she came out of the door and joined him on the porch of the farmhouse. “Sorry, but it's getting old.”
Bruce flashed her an amused look. He had spent enough time in Smallville that Martha had finally became comfortable around him and his family, even opening up to him about Clark's farm life. In return, he told stories about the time he was with Clark in university.
Martha welcomed Bruce with open arms and Bruce, even when he was still feeling guilty and undeserving of everything, accepted it. If there was one thing he learned, it was that Clark got his stubbornness from Martha. They were unbeatable.
“You know, I was tidying up Clark's room earlier and found this.” Martha handed Bruce an old photo. The edges were tattered, but the image was still clear. It was Bruce and Clark in what Clark used to call the Haven.
Bruce remembered that day clearly. It was when Clark had the guts to finally kiss him. They acted like teenagers back then. Well, Clark was only 18 years old back then, so technically, he was acting his age. It was Bruce who felt younger—better—whenever he was with Clark—more carefree and believe it or not, smiley. Clark said he wanted to remember it and so, Bruce relented and they took a picture together, cheeks blushing and lips swollen.
Bruce traced the image with his finger, a small, nostalgic smile on his face. Clark had always been the one to stay with him whenever he felt like the world was too much for him to take. He vowed to himself to protect Clark like the man protected him and he failed. But he would not fail him in his death. Not again. Never again.
“Can I–” Bruce froze when a tear slipped from his eye.
Martha nodded at the unspoken question. “Of course, Bruce. Clark would have wanted for you to have it.”
Bruce nodded silently, looking at the photo once again before carefully placing it inside the hidden pocket of his coat. “Thank you.”
The two of them looked out at the vast field of Smallville, reminiscing their time with the same person until Bruce broke the silence.
“I've been with different people after I met him. I dated people longer than the time we spent together. For god's sake, I was married. But he–” Bruce swallowed. “I can never forget him. I used to drink and party. I lie all the time. I slept with hundred other people, yet his would always be the first name I call. After all this time, Clark is still the first person that enters my mind.”
There was no one like Clark Kent.
Bruce wished Clark was with them. He imagined them relaxing on the porch, drinking sweetened lemonade, doing farm works, tending the animals, and watching the sun together as it set.
However, in that moment, he could only watch as his children play around the farm, feeding and petting Shelby while Martha fussed over them, missing the days when a kid's laughter filled the house.
Like Martha, he was physically in the present, but his mind longed for the past. He did not know what the future would bring, but there was one thing that would never change;
Bruce would always miss Clark.