(no subject)
Bag's packed for this weekend's trip to the Tower. Kon collects a few CD's, stuffing them into the front pocket of the knapsack, including one he had borrowed from Gar, and needs to give back.
He sits on the edge of the bed, retying his bootlaces, wrapping them around the back of his boot, and tying them in front.
"Son, look, with whatever's been bothering you lately, you need to spend more time around your friends. It always helped Clark."
"Yeah, well, I'm not him," Kon had shot back, harsher than he'd intended to. He'd been worried about every conversation with Uncle Jon and Aunt Martha lately, concerned that the bit of Luthor hidden in the back of his mind would drop in to say hello, and he'd be caught staring off into space, or worse, reply out loud to someone who wasn't there. How long would it take for Uncle Jon to call in Clark, and have him on a table in the Fortress, getting poked and prodded like a lab rat. Or worse, turned over to Batman. Just the thought made him shudder.
Jonathan Kent put his hand on Kon's shoulder, giving him a sympathetic squeeze. "I know, son. But Clark's the only frame of reference I got here. Been a damned long time since I was a teenager. And I wasn't ever one who could level a farmhouse by putting his hand on the doorframe. It's summer, Conner. Why not invite one of those Titan kids to come back here and spend a week, if they can get away from whichever hero they're partnered with for a week or so? It'd probably wind up bein' a good thing for both of you."
Uncle Jon had been right, of course. Having someone around who could even come close to understanding, it'd be shades better than trying to suck it up and pretend to be close to the kids at Smallville High. That was like chewing tinfoil mixed with broken glass. It hurt his head just thinking about it.
He'd ask Tim. If anything or anyone could keep him from going nuttier than a whole case of Planters, it'd be his best friend.
He sits on the edge of the bed, retying his bootlaces, wrapping them around the back of his boot, and tying them in front.
"Son, look, with whatever's been bothering you lately, you need to spend more time around your friends. It always helped Clark."
"Yeah, well, I'm not him," Kon had shot back, harsher than he'd intended to. He'd been worried about every conversation with Uncle Jon and Aunt Martha lately, concerned that the bit of Luthor hidden in the back of his mind would drop in to say hello, and he'd be caught staring off into space, or worse, reply out loud to someone who wasn't there. How long would it take for Uncle Jon to call in Clark, and have him on a table in the Fortress, getting poked and prodded like a lab rat. Or worse, turned over to Batman. Just the thought made him shudder.
Jonathan Kent put his hand on Kon's shoulder, giving him a sympathetic squeeze. "I know, son. But Clark's the only frame of reference I got here. Been a damned long time since I was a teenager. And I wasn't ever one who could level a farmhouse by putting his hand on the doorframe. It's summer, Conner. Why not invite one of those Titan kids to come back here and spend a week, if they can get away from whichever hero they're partnered with for a week or so? It'd probably wind up bein' a good thing for both of you."
Uncle Jon had been right, of course. Having someone around who could even come close to understanding, it'd be shades better than trying to suck it up and pretend to be close to the kids at Smallville High. That was like chewing tinfoil mixed with broken glass. It hurt his head just thinking about it.
He'd ask Tim. If anything or anyone could keep him from going nuttier than a whole case of Planters, it'd be his best friend.