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He isn't human, and there is no room for him in human error.
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He thinks about Lionel Luthor, and the things he must have done to put so very many edges in the son he claims to love. He thinks about his own parents, too... good solid people who just wanted a normal son, a child they could love with no thoughts of aliens or secrets or government labs. He pictures his father getting up every morning in the cold dark to work himself to death on the fields that will eventually claim his life, or at least its better years. And then there's Lana and her endless, endless tragedy and the Fordmans' empty house and the three, soon to be four, fresh graves in the church yard.
Lex isn't his father, not nearly, but sometimes he thinks that isn't the yardstick Lex should be measuring himself against.
There's another truth here, and it's not one he's known forever, though he thinks it was always there to be seen.
He is in love with Lex. It's something that crept up on him so slowly it was an intrinsic part of him before he realized it at all. After tonight there can be little doubt that Lex returns those feelings, perhaps more so. Lex has always been braver than he is.
But the truth is none of that can matter. Despite what the song tells you, love hasn't conquered anything at all.
He remembers the feeling of Lex's weight on top of him, the warm intimacy of his breath as he whispered things into Clark's ear.
Everything.
Everything, and coming from Lex that wasn't just a word. Everything in the way only a Luthor could mean it, as only Lex could mean it. Lex thinks on scales that make Clark feel claustrophobic in his own head. At twenty-four Lex is already poised to take over the world, though it's somehow deeply tragic in ways Clark can't really explain that someone as brilliant and generous and simply amazing as Lex should feel the need to.
He can break the sound barrier when he runs, and bullets flatten like wet clay on his impenetrable skin. He can bend metal like paper or melt it with a glance and the only thing guarding the people of Smallville's secrets or fiercely defended privacy is his willpower on any particular day.
His parents, his biological ones, put a three year old child on a spaceship and sent him off to remake a world of six billion people in his own image.
He isn't human, and there is no room for him in human error.
Lex could make him forget that, make him comfortable in his own skin. Allow him to forget for one minute that he was anything more than himself. Instead of being alien Clark or superfreak Clark or future world tyrant Clark, he could simply be Lex's.
He has to stop for a moment, has to imagine that, too, before he can go on. The desire for it cuts so sharp he's shaking with it.
Lex's hand is warm on his jaw line and the little caress of his finger tips isn't helping at all. He feels as dizzy as if there were meteor rocks present, but it's just Lex himself. Lex has spent years looking for Clark's vulnerabilities and he's always thought it a little funny that Lex could never figure out he himself was a greater weakness than the meteors could ever be.
"Shh," Lex says, leaning up to caress the corner of Clark's mouth with his lips in a not-quite kiss. "It's all right."
And Clark wants to shout, shake him, force him to see what he does, if only so he doesn't have to be so alone here. Isn't Lex supposed to be the super genius in this relationship? How can he not see what is so very obvious?
But he nods, because having a mental breakdown Smallville's labyrinth of caves when you have completely no idea where you are or where you are going is Not a Good Idea. Lex tugs and he goes along. After a moment Lex wraps an arm under his shoulders again and Clark doesn't even bother with a token protest.
Everything, and no, Lex isn't lying about that, which is what makes it so dangerous.