Chapter Text
Ever since the day he was born, he had been different, he knew that far too well, no one ever told him otherwise, anyway; the moment he was born, he didn't cry, not even a single tear, nothing, he might as well have been dead, given how silent he had been. His mom and dad didn't pay that any mind, though, they still received their son with open arms, they didn't know the kind of baby they were about to raise, the type of person they brought into their world, they loved him, caressed him and his black hair, gave him kisses on his forehead, whispered sweet nothings to him, he never understood why, he never understood why his mom loved him, why his dad loved him, why they seemed so devastated when he told them he didn't feel the same. Lois Lane was his caretaker, so was Clark Kent, there was nothing else to add to that, he didn't love them, he didn't appreciate them, they took care of him and he needed to be taken care of, in his cold, dead eyes, that was it, that was everything. Being a child meant being vulnerable, thus, he needed protection, thus, he needed them.
Even if that meant having to endure the way Lois Lane begged him to feel something, anything, even though he never did, not empathy, not sadness, just apathy, he was alive, but he wasn't living, he was alive, but he didn't know why.
He saw other children, of course, at school; smiling, playing, crying, he never did any of those things, not willingly, at least, he did try to play, he did try to cry, he tried watching movies that the general public deemed as sad, watched the news when a villain struck all over Metropolis, saw the families, wrecked, crying, yet, he still didn't feel anything. Only emptiness, he was empty. Jonathan Samuel Kent was different, no one understood him, not his mom, not his dad, not Superman, no one, they tried to take him to therapy, but he refused.
For some reason, they respected his wishes, at least for that, he could feel thankful for. Therapy wasn't going to fix him, he wasn't even broken, what would be the point? He wasn't broken, he just had been born different.
"Jon, do you even feel anything?" Lois asked him one day, crouching down in front of him, tears running down her cheeks, her purple eyes staring right through him, like she wanted to see him, to truly see him, but couldn't, he was her son, they shared the same purple eyes, but other than that... They didn't have anything else in common. Because she was alive and Jon wasn't. "What can I do to make you happy? I just.... I just want to see you smile, Jon. You know we love you, right? So much."
"That doesn't change anything. And there's nothing you can do to make me happy." He had replied, at the tender age of eight years old, looking straight at her, he wished he could feel something, anything, but he didn't, not even empathy, not even for his own blood, when her shoulders were shaking and she kept crying, holding his shoulders tightly, like he was going to disappear if she ever let go. "I'm sorry." He said, even if he didn't mean it, because he thought that's what she wanted to hear, he saw people apologizing all the time, he thought apologies made things better.
That didn't work on her, if anything, she seemed to break down even further, like he was hurting her, even when all he did was stand there, in the middle of the living room, doing nothing but stare at her.
"I'm sorry, Jon, I'm s—so sorry." Why was she the one apologizing? He didn't feel anything, but that wasn't her fault. "Jon, you know we love you, right? Do you know that?"
"I do."
She sobbed. "Jon, I would do anything for you. I just... I just wish you could feel something, anything."
"Me, too."
Lois hugged him and Jon allowed her, didn't even move, as she held his small body against her own, he didn't understand why she always did that, act like he was going to disappear, he wasn't going to, Lois and Clark were all he knew, anyway, school didn't make sense, playing didn't make sense, other children weren't the same as him, they all looked at him like he was strange, because he was, they eyed him suspiciously, like he was going to snap at any given second if given the chance. How could he snap? To snap, he would have to feel something, but even rage was something he couldn't feel.
Something that was so far away from his grasp.
He wished he could feel anger, at least, anger was a form of classical passion, anger was an emotion, a strong one at that, Jonathan Kent didn't feel emotions, didn't understand them, no matter how much he wished he did. Even when his own mom was caressing his hair right now, like she used to do when he was a baby, fingers running through his short, wavy hair, her touch was gentle, but hesitant. She didn't fear him, not exactly, she feared he was going to pull away from her, she feared he was going to leave and never look back.
He never hurt anyone, he wasn't planning to, he understood right and wrong, the good and the bad, he knew his dad was Superman, a hero, someone people looked up to. He just didn't feel anything, but he supposed that was, at least, something Lois and Clark didn't have to worry about, him hurting anyone, anything, he never did, he knew he was bound to be stronger eventually, his dad's genes were strong, but what would be the point of that?
He just wanted to feel something, anything, hurting someone was no way to achieve that, he knew better than that. Humans were weak, yes, but so were aliens; kryptonians, not because of power, not because of strength, but because they had emotions and they felt them deeply. Emotions were a weakness he wished he had. Jonathan Samuel Kent was not weak, yet, he wished he had been.
He wished he could be weak.
He wanted to feel human, he wanted to feel something, anything. Please, he thought, please, something, anything, I'll take anything, even sorrow, please, please, please.
But he never did.
"Mom," She looked at him, pulling away a few centimeters, still holding him. "Do you think I'm broken?" He didn't think so, but he wondered more often than not if they did.
"No, baby, no," Lois shaked her head, almost vehemently, holding one of his cheeks, lips trembling. "You're not broken, don't say that. You're amazing." He wished he could hear her heartbeat the same way his dad did, so that he could tell if she was lying, but maybe he was better off not knowing, maybe, maybe. "You're perfect, we love you."
But love wasn't enough, if it was, then he would feel the same way towards her, yet, he never did. He wished he could love, feel sorrow, feel anger, he would have taken anything over this perpetual feeling of emptiness. He saw her tears and wished he could cry, too, at least to keep her company, at least to know how that felt.
But he couldn't.
Maybe he was in denial and maybe he really was broken.
Fractured, wrong
Wrong.
"I was thinking we should take him to the Justice League," He heard his dad said one day, while Jon sat on the stairs, inside the farm, not meaning to overhear, but he did, anyway, because they were close and he was so quiet, they didn't even notice him. "I think J'onn could take a look at him, see what he feels, what he thinks, because he won't tell us, Lois."
He heard his mom slamming her hand against the dining table, he didn't even flinch, he only sat there, listening. "Are you insane, Clark?! He's a kid! And that's a clear invasion of his privacy! Are you even listening to yourself?" Jon closed his eyes and held his knees close to his chest, they were arguing because of him, he realized, as always, they were Lois Lane and Superman, yet, all it took for them to argue was their own son. "He's not broken, Clark!"
"I'm not saying he is, Lois, but someone needs to check on him and... I... I don't think we're doing a good job," He heard his mom gasp and the sob that escaped his dad's lips at his own words. "He needs help, Lois. Do you think he's living? He's just existing."
"Don't say that, Clark, don't—"
"Lois, look at me. Tell me he doesn't need help, look at me straight in the eyes and tell me he is happy."
The silence that followed was heavy, suffocating the entire living room, charged with so many emotions he could never understand. He bit his own lower lip, until it bled, he could feel the weight inside the farm, right above his shoulders, the weight of every single negative emotion they felt and he wished he could feel, too.
"Maybe we can do something to make him happy!" Oh, how naive his mom was, there was nothing they could do and she knew it, too, she was trying to hold onto something that didn't exist, she was trying to have hope.
Hope couldn't do anything.
"We've tried everything, Lois. Nothing works, nothing makes him happy. Have you ever seen him smile?"
He tried, many, many times, in front of the mirror, mostly, but he had never been successful and all he did by trying was making a fool of himself, wasting his time. Every smile came out as fake, forced, fractured and they knew, he couldn't fool them, just like he couldn't even fool himself, either.
"I just..." Lois was sobbing now and his dad was, too, like those broken families he saw on the news. He did this, he did this and he couldn't fix it, because he didn't know how, because he couldn't give them what they wanted. "I just want him to be happy. I love him, Clark, he's our son."
"I love him, too. You know that. Which is why I don't want to give up on him, Lois, I won't. We have to try everything, I don't care if we keep failing, there must be something, anything we can do."
The Justice League, he thought, a man or an alien called J'onn, taking a look inside his mind, the void in his soul. He didn't care, because they wouldn't find anything, Jonathan himself never did.
"But he's still too young, Clark. Maybe there's something else we could do. You're barely home anymore, maybe... Maybe he needs his dad."
"You know that I have to save the world, Lois—"
"I don't care about the world if my son, our son, is falling apart in front of us!"
He wasn't falling apart, but his dad was right about something, he wasn't living, he was merely existing, a constant on this planet; no purpose, no feelings, nothing at all.
"Lois..."
"Please, Clark, leave J'onn as our last resort, I'm sure we can find something else, anything."
His dad lowered his voice. "I feel like you're scared of what he could find."
Jon tried to cover his ears to give them some privacy, but he heard her anyway.
And he knew, deep down, that if he had been a normal child, those words would have stung.
"Maybe I am."
But they didn't.
They should have, though.
He went upstairs slowly and carefully that night, he didn't hear the rest of their conversation.
He didn't want to, they couldn't have said nothing that he didn't already know, anyway.
Could they?
"You are different," His teacher said one day, while he gave her his homework, she had grey, messy hair and deep, blue eyes. She appeared to be a kind woman, but he really didn't care about that. "But different doesn't always have to mean something bad." Then, she used a stamper to put a smiley face on his homework, he merely blinked at her words, unfazed, but undeniably curious, too.
"Why are you saying that?" He couldn't help but ask, as he took the piece of paper between his hands and stared at her, she was smiling, he didn't understand why, smiling at him the same way people smiled at normal children, he wasn't normal. "You're my teacher, not a therapist."
"No, I'm not, but I can tell you're trying to do your best, you just don't know how and that's okay, you're a kid. A kid whose wishes are actually simple, not selfish, not far too optimistic." She meant his homework, he realized, the homework that asked a question he didn't really know how to answer, but he did, anyway. And he had been honest, that was the point of that question, right? For kids to be honest, to say what they wanted to be in the future, he wrote one word, just one and nothing else. "All you want is to be happy. Most of the answers were what I expected... Being an astronaut, a superhero, a lawyer, a doctor. But you said you wanted to be happy."
"I want to." He said, because it was true, he wanted to be happy, he wanted to feel something, he wanted to feel more like a person and less like a broken vessel of one. He wanted to love Lois, he wanted to love Clark, he wished Krypto didn't growl at him every single time he saw him, like he knew, deep down, that there was something truly wrong with him. Krypto had to be placed somewhere else the moment he turned five, the moment his mom and dad realized the dog wasn't going to accept him. They said they didn't want to risk the dog hurting him.
Jonathan Kent and Martha Kent, his grandparents, were the ones taking care of him, now. He didn't see them often, but they were kind to him. If only kindness could be enough. He thinks they don't know about him, about who he is, well, they do say ignorance is bliss, let them stay that way, thinking they have a normal grandson.
"I heard you're moving," His teacher mentioned casually, giving him a soft, tired smile. "To Metropolis, right?" He hummed in agreement, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's a big city, but it is nice."
His mom and dad thought the change of environment could be good for him, he didn't know why that would change anything. "I wouldn't know, I've never been there before." But Clark and Lois did go there, a lot, he believed that's where they fell in love, as well.
He couldn't help but feel envy. Why did everyone else get to love someone, except him? Why was he the only one who couldn't feel love, empathy, happiness? It wasn't fair. Not fair. Not fair. Not fair.
"Jonathan?" He blinked and looked at his teacher, realizing he hadn't been listening to her anymore, lost in his thoughts, in the endless void he called his mind. He had to put himself together, try to act normal in front of others, even if they all saw who he really was. A broken child.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"I was saying that I just remembered that your birthday was yesterday. Ten years old, you're a big boy now, huh?" She was smiling, he realized, but the softness in her eyes had been replaced, now there was some kind of worry inside of that blue ocean, that wasn't good, he didn't like when people worried about him. "Happy birthday, Jonathan. I couldn't say it yesterday because it was Saturday, but I can say it now."
"Thank you." He answered, out of pure courtesy, his mom and dad gave him a lot of gifts, spoiled him rotten; and yet, he didn't smile yesterday, not even once, even when he tried for them, he couldn't. They saw right through his fake smiles and had been so sad, he thought he saw his mom cry at one point, even when she tried to not cry in front of him, more often than not, she failed. His dad failed, too; because he also cried for Jon, even when he pretended he was the strongest out of all of them because he wanted to keep the family together. "It was fun." The lie escaped out of his lips so easily, he couldn't help but frown, he never thought of himself as a good liar, but apparently, he was.
He was good at many things, except for the one thing he really wanted, the one he longed for the most: To feel.
Why him? Why was he like this? Why? Why? WHY?
"I'm glad to hear that, here, I wanted to give you something. I'm technically not allowed to do this, but..." She shrugged and grabbed something from one of the drawers in her desk, smiling at him. "Here, take this, I know it's not much, but just something for you to remember me by, okay?"
A toy, he realized, she was giving him a toy; he took the Batman action figure between his fingers and observed it carefully, he didn't like Batman, truth to be told, he didn't like any superheroes, but there was something about Batman's color scheme that was... Unique. Every superhero had suits that were colorful, outstanding, that, of course, included his own dad, Clark Kent, Superman, so bright, blue, red, meanwhile, Batman was mostly black. Black, which is known to be the absence of color; black, which is also known to be the absence of light.
He blinked, looking at the action figure, the painting, the logo, everything, it seemed to be of good quality, not too expensive, not too cheap, meant to be of sentimental value, given to him by his own teacher, for his birthday, because he was moving very, very far away from Smallville, to a whole new city, a whole new place, to a different school. All while they hoped they could feel something, anything; he wished so, too, so, so badly, there was nothing else he wanted more than that.
"I thought Batman was the hero of Gotham, why not give me something related to Metropolis?" He wondered out loud, not to be mean, not because he disliked the gift, but because he was curious, most people would have given him a Superman figure or a Superboy one, maybe.
"I think there's a hero for everyone out there. Not everyone is the same."
Not everyone is the same, he thought, there's a hero for everyone out there and then, he also thought, what does that mean, exactly?
He wondered about that for a very, very long time.
But he never saw that teacher again.
When he heard from his mom and his dad that she passed away in a car accident, he wished he could have felt something about that, too, but he didn't.
Just an endless void where his heart was supposed to be.
Kon-El was strange, that much he could not deny, a clone of his dad, a clone of Lex Luthor, existing, being a part of the family, accepted, a hero, whether he was supposed to be his uncle or his brother, Jon didn't know, but even Lois thought of him as family; he stopped by their new apartment in Metropolis more often than not, he ruffled Jon's hair, hugged him, even when the kid didn't even stare back at him, he didn't seem to be emotionally affected by that, like his behavior was normal. Every single member of the family seemed to love him, they said he was charming, nice, a good person, he didn't know if that was true or not, he didn't care, but his presence was a constant now, now that they were closer to where he lived, he said he liked stopping by because he enjoyed seeing his family.
He was a clone, yes, but even then, he made his mom and dad smile, when all Jon did was make them argue and cry, he didn't feel anything towards him, except for envy, that is, envy because he felt something, envy because he seemed happy, envy because he was bright and Jon wasn't, envy because he made Clark and Lois smile, but he didn't, he was loved and he didn't have to do anything in order to be loved, because he was normal. So painfully normal, he made Clark's son look like he was the clone, instead, one that failed, one that came out wrong.
Kon-El was a clone, but even then, he had a family and friends, he had a boyfriend, he loved and he was loved right back. It seemed almost unfair, so, so unfair.
Cruel. It seemed cruel, even. Like the entire universe hated Jonathan Samuel Kent.
"Are things going well?" Lois Lane asked Conner while they were having lunch, Jon looked at his food and moved the fork slowly, breaking the chicken breast apart, but not eating, he didn't do that often, not as of lately. The food tasted like ash, which was strange, because his mom said Clark was a good cook, it didn't seem like it to their own son. "With you and Tim, I mean."
Tim, he recognized that name, that was Conner's boyfriend, had been for a while.
"Yeah, they have been good, actually! It was long overdue, I think. He's having a hard time lately, though."
"Really? How come?" His dad asked as he took a sip of his orange juice, smiling, raising an eyebrow, a clear sign of interest.
"His new brother, you know who he is, right?" His dad nodded. "Well, he is something, alright. Tim says the kid is a psycho," Jon stopped, the fork stabbing right through the chicken breast as he glanced at Conner, carefully, hesitant, if the clone noticed his sudden interest, he didn't say anything, he merely shrugged. "I told him that reminded me of The Omen, because he's called Damian, y'know. And then he looked at me and went: Oh, yeah, I see the resemblance."
Damian, Jon blinked, a kid, who was probably around his age, they called him a psychopath, a word the kids at his school, back when they still lived in Smallville, used to throw his own way a lot, he didn't know if the meaning fit him or not.
"Who is Damian?" He couldn't help himself as he asked and suddenly, three pair of eyes were staring at him, his mom and dad seemed surprised, but Conner merely smiled at him, waving them off like they were nothing, all of his interest was now directed at Jon.
"Tim's baby brother. Doesn't talk much, well, maybe he does, the last time I saw him, he called me a clone." But he was, a clone, he meant, he didn't understand why Conner said that like the kid named Damian had called him mean names in the process of them meeting, that was simply a fact. Of course he didn't say that, though, he knew Clark and Lois wouldn't have liked that. "And a few other words that are not appropiate for your ears, Jon," His dad's clone frowned, seemingly deep in thought for a moment. "I can't swear in front of him, right?"
"Of course not." His mom said, rolling her purple eyes, but they swore a lot when they thought he wasn't listening, when they argued about him, about Jon, about the Justice League, about everything, about their never ending mission to find out what made him happy. "He's ten, Kon."
Kon-El chewed his food slowly, but that didn't stop him from talking. "Very mature for his age, though. He seems... Older. Not like that's a bad thing!" Clark and Lois tensed up, looking at each other, like they didn't know how to respond to that, that was okay, that was normal, their normal, his normal. "Which actually reminds me of something... Has he developed any superpowers by now?"
"None that we know of—"
"Hearing." He said, interrupting his dad, whose eyes widened at his words and his mom stopped eating right at that very same moment, dropping her fork on top of the table. "I can hear your heartbeat," Those were the words that followed, as he looked at Conner, straight at those blue eyes of his. "It's faster now, why? It was normal a few seconds ago. Are you thinking about your boyfriend?"
"Yeah, I'm thinking about him, I..." Conner swallowed his food, harshly. Jon could hear the way his throat tightened around his own spit. "I— I think I should go."
"Yeah, I think so, too." His mom said and Jon looked at the exchange of glances they shared between them. "I'm sorry, Conner, but please, leave."
"Since when?" Clark looked at him and asked, a frown on his normally composed face, his blue eyes seemed hesitant, like he wasn't sure if he should have asked, but he did, anyway.
"A few weeks ago," He confessed, wondering why was that even important, there was no use to his superpowers, anyway; enhanced hearing wasn't even one. "It's not like you two don't argue all the time, anyway."
His mom covered her face between her hands and his dad lowered his gaze, almost like he was deeply ashamed, he didn't understand why, he didn't lie, he could have, but he didn't, the only reason he didn't tell them had been because they never asked. As he proved right after, by speaking a few seconds later after his confession, his dad didn't seem to think the same. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"You never asked," Jon said, leaving the fork aside, deciding he was finally tired of pretending he was eating, he wasn't, the food tasted like nothing. And then, because he thought that's what they wanted to hear... "I'm sorry."
Lois Lane's purple eyes stared right at him, her face softening as soon as she heard his words. "No, don't apologize... We should have known. Is... Is there anything else? Anything else you want to tell us, Jon?" Her voice was hesitant, he noticed, almost like she didn't want to know.
"No, nothing else."
"Jesus," Conner whispered to himself and then looked at him, realizing that he could hear him, he looked away almost immediately, Conner never looked away from him before, he always accepted him exactly as he was.
He was acting like his mom and dad, now, like they were never sure about what to do and what not to do when he was around.
You were supposed to be different, he thought, I thought you accepted me. Why won't you look at me now?
"Kon, can you call Tim? Tell him I need to see Bruce." Clark said as he stood up from the table, smiling, but the smile seemed so forced, almost painful, like the mere action hurt. "Jon, let's go to your room, okay? Let's talk or play a game, alright? We'll talk about this super hearing of yours while we're at it, too."
"Okay."
He allowed his dad to take his hand and guide him towards his room, while they walked, he glanced at his mom, at the clone of his dad, they seemed to be frozen in place, not saying anything, not even a simple word. Lois Lane's purple eyes were watery for some reason and Conner, Conner was on his phone, possibly calling his boyfriend, because Clark asked him to, they were eyeing him, once again, he couldn't understand why.
He realized that day that his mom's heartbeat had been the loudest of them all.
And his dad teached him how not to listen on others, unless he really, really needed to; he explained he never wanted to, but he did because he couldn't avoid doing so, his dad's eyes had been watery, too. And he hugged him so, so tight, like he was going to fade away in his arms if he didn't, crying on his shoulder, apologizing, for what? He didn't know, but he was tired, so tired of having to hear them apologizing over him, over and over again.
Why couldn't they just stop?
Batman turned out to be Bruce Wayne, the person his dad asked Conner to call that day, while they were in the middle of enjoying their lunch. Icy, blue eyes stared at him as the man took off his cowl, looking at him, like he was deeply analyzing him, but he didn't flinch, he didn't look at him like he was a bomb about to explode, he simply looked at Clark's son and saw a child, where most people saw a freak. He realized he couldn't hear his heartbeat, but he didn't think about that, not too deeply, he rembembered his dad rambling about the importance of privacy, but he was curious, that much he could not deny. Bruce Wayne was strange, in the sense that he didn't seem to care about Jon's lack of feelings, about the way he stood completely still, about the way his purple eyes looked around the cave, empty, simply wandering, but not doing much else.
It almost made him feel like he was normal, for once; the man in front of him was supposed to be scary, people thought so, at least, but he had a serene, calm look on his face as he checked Jon's files, his dad right by the man's side, because apparently, Bruce Wayne was his dad's best friend. Batman was Superman's best friend, he supposed that made sense, that explained why his dad had smiled so much when he saw the gift his teacher gave him before she passed, even when his own son didn't.
"He doesn't have any other superpowers, I don't know when will he develop any others, if he ever does," The man's voice was deep and so, so calm, like they were talking about the weather, instead, like they weren't talking about the mistake Jon had been ever since the day he was born. "I don't think there's anything to worry about, Clark. Yet."
"Are you sure?" His dad asked, hesitant, voice almost shaking, even when he always pretended to be strong in front of Jon, more often than not, he failed, miserably so.
"I am, I ran every test I could think of and there's nothing. His human DNA is stronger as of right now," Bruce said, as he passed over the folder to Clark, who took it almost desperately. "He may be able to hide his powers from you, but not from me, you know that."
"I never hid them," He said, because he never did and he didn't understand why everyone else believed otherwise. "They didn't ask."
"They don't need to." Batman said, looking at him, straight at his purple eyes. "It is expected of you to tell them, at the end of the day, they're your family. Do you understand that?"
"I do." He said, even when he didn't. He didn't understand. They could have asked and he would have told them, but they didn't, so he didn't say anything.
"You don't," Jon's eyes widened, usually, his mom and dad weren't able to tell when he lied, not so easily. "But you will."
One of the doors of the cave opened and he turned around, eyes widening once again as he saw a kid that appeared to be the same age as him entering through one of the multiple, secure entrances the cave had. The kid had green eyes, but the shade was so fierce, so severe, like emerald, he was frowning, he realized, had his arms crossed over his chest as the door behind him closed and he walked towards him, like the whole place belonged to him; his hair was black and short, he had sharp eyebrowns, tan skin that resembled bronze or cooper, he had a prominent nose as well, everything about him screamed confidence, but also annoyance, he must have been family, if he was able to enter Batman's sacred sanctuary like that, especially because the man didn't even appear to be surprised, all he did was let out a tired sigh and rub his temples, staring at the kid now, at his family, probably, his gaze no longer on Jon.
"Who is this?" The kid inquired, demanding, looking at him, now, fierce green staring at Jon's purple eyes. "Father, answer me." So he was Bruce's child, he seemed far too young, he wasn't a teenager like Conner's boyfriend.
"Is this...?" His dad asked, a soft smile on his face.
"Yes, this is Damian. Damian, I told you I was going to be busy today, you can't go in whenever you please. We already talked about this."
Damian, Jon thought, Damian, Tim's baby brother, the one who they referred to as a psychopath, the one who looked at Jon and rolled his eyes, completely uninterested, indifferent, like he wasn't important at all, like his presence wasn't something even worth thinking about, he didn't stare him, didn't look at him up and down, didn't call him names, he simply ignored him, like he didn't exist.
That was new, strange, even more than Conner.
An anomaly.
"Don't tell me you plan on taking in another orphan," Damian said, annoyed, glaring at his father, at Bruce Wayne, the Batman, not a single inch of fear inside those green eyes. "You don't even—"
"I already have a dad." Jon said, interrupting him and now, now Damian's eyes were on him, he was frowning, he realized, he wasn't kind, he wasn't even smiling. And somehow, Jon couldn't help but think they were alike in more ways than one, something he was never able to feel before, because no one ever understood him, he thought no one ever would. Would Damian? Would he understand him? Was he broken, as well? Or was he simply missguided? "My dad is right here."
"Superman's kid," Damian grimaced, he almost spat out the words, like the mere thought of Clark Kent having a child was something distasteful. "Another golden boy. Why are you even here?" And then, like he saw right through him. "Stop staring at me like that. You are the one whose presence is not required here, not me."
Mean, but not to him specifically, like the kids in Smallville; he was mean to everyone, instead.
"The last time I saw him, he called me a clone."
"Tim says the kid is a psycho."
Jon knew he shouldn't have, but he listened for his heartbeat anyway.
Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.
Calm, composed, serene, collected, not nervous, not scared, not freaking out at the mere sight of him.
Thump-thump.
Steady, perfectly so.
His eyes widened and he looked at the kid in front of him, at Damian Wayne, his lips slightly separated in pure, unadulterated amazement.
"You're not scared of me," He murmured, looking at him, at Damian, not even blinking anymore.
"Why would I be?" Damian spat out, frowning, annoyed. "What? Do you think you're a big deal because you're Superman's son? Don't be so cocky, I could murder you in the blink of an eye."
"Damian! Stop, now."
"What? He thinks I'm afraid of him, Father, or that I should be, I am not." Emerald eyes stared at him and Jon suddenly couldn't help but feel like he was frozen in place, like he couldn't move, for the first time in his entire life, he was feeling what he always made everyone else feel. Confused, not knowing what to say, what to feel, what to do, what not to do, he felt almost seen. "What? Not going to say anything, golden boy? Are you disappointed? Did you expect me to kneel at the sight of you?"
Thump-thump.
"The kid is a psycho."
He was different.
He didn't fear him.
He simply didn't care about him.
Jon stared in awe.
"Are you like me?" He asked and Damian's eyebrows raised, clearly taken off guard.
"What?" The boy whose skin resembled bronze blinked, clearly more confused than angry, now.
Even his dad seemed frozen in place, eyeing them, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing and listening.
"Are you broken?" He asked.
Damian's eyes widened.
And, for the first time since he entered the cave, looked like he didn't know what to say, like he had been expecting a challenge, anything but this.
"Are you?" He insisted.
And he waited, waited for an answer.
Those emerald eyes stared at him, like he was truly looking at him for the first time.
Like he was worthy of his attention, now.
And he waited, and waited.
"I... I don't know." Damian said, hesitant, voice not so sharp anymore. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" His words were biting, meant to hurt, he snapped, he snapped at everyone.
"I don't know, either."
They stared at each other in silence then, looking, analyzing.
And even Bruce Wayne, of all people, seemed lost for once.