Chapter Text
Jon has been sitting against his headboard for quite a while; he is finishing packing his notebooks and his glasses case into his backpack with care. He’s wearing a blue hoodie and what has become his favorite scarf, which he found a few weeks ago while helping organize boxes in the attic. He has worn it every single time he flies to Gotham to visit Damian, and Damian usually criticizes his choice of winter gear in the middle of spring—but Jon doesn’t care; it looks good on him and it’s pretty.
He also wears it when he goes to tutoring sessions. His classmates usually make fun of him for the same reason Damian does, but Jon doesn't mind. It smells like lavender; it smells like home.
—What’s so special about that scarf? Why do you never take it off?
Those are questions he is asked often.
Jon answers that he doesn’t know, that maybe it’s because it matches his clothes or because the colors are nice; he doesn't really care.
When his therapist asks him why that scarf is so special, Jon replies that he isn’t sure, but that when he puts it on, he feels protected.
It’s Tuesday morning. Jon is finishing getting ready for class; he can hear Lois walking back and forth while Clark makes sure she doesn’t bump into anything. She’s talking on the phone and seems to have an important interview.
—Clark, have you seen my scarf? The one that’s...
She stops dead because she has forgotten the color.
—The color doesn't matter, I just know it’ll go well with what I’m wearing now.
Clark lets out a chuckle and searches the entire living room at super speed.
—Could this be the one she's looking for? —Jon wonders, looking down at his neck covered by that grey and blue scarf. —I’ll give it back to her.
Jon left his room and went downstairs with his backpack slung over one shoulder while he took off the scarf and folded it carefully.
—Mom, is this the scarf you’re looking for? I’ve been using it lately, but it’s clean.
Jon stops just before entering the kitchen. Lois is typing frantically on her computer with one hand and holding her coffee mug with the other.
—Yes, sweetheart, you can leave it on the...
Lois looks up and freezes. She stares at the scarf Jon is holding in his hands. She just remembered why she had decided not to use that scarf and why she had tucked it away in that box in the attic. Tears begin to well up in her eyes; she stops typing, sets the coffee mug down next to the computer, and starts walking toward Jon.
—Jon, sweetheart... have you been wearing this scarf in the middle of spring?
Jon scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed.
—Yes, Mom, I’m sorry. It’s just... it’s comfortable, it’s pretty, and... I don’t know, it makes me feel safe for some reason.
A tear slides down Lois’s face, but she wipes it away quickly with the back of her hand.
—You know what, sweetheart? You can keep it. I’ll find something else to wear.
—Are you sure, Mom? I really don't have a problem with...
—I’m sure, sweetheart. Put it on; it matches your hoodie.
Jon spreads the scarf out and puts it back on carefully. Lois helps him adjust it tenderly, caresses his cheeks with her thumbs, and gives him a kiss on the forehead.
Clark watches everything from the living room. His glasses are fogged up; he wants to speak, but he feels like his voice will crack if he does. He clears his throat softly.
—It looks good on you, son —he says with a weak but genuine smile.
Jon feels a slight tension in the air, but he lets it pass. Lois takes the paper bag and the thermos with orange juice that are on the counter and hands them to Jon.
—Here you go, sweetheart. A sandwich with extra crunchy bread and orange juice—your favorite combination.
Jon takes the sandwich first, breathing in the scent of warm bread mixing with all the ingredients, and then takes the thermos.
—Thanks, Mom. It smells delicious —he says as he starts tucking the sandwich and the thermos into his backpack.
He gives his parents a warm look and walks toward the door, saying goodbye to both. He steps out onto the porch, feeling the wind and the morning sun caress his face. He grips the straps of his backpack tightly and takes off, flying toward Metropolis. The scarf flaps against his face, but he doesn't care. He feels safe.