More Young Justice Trash

Close Quarters (Part Four)

-There you go, two updates in one day-

Clark was up late worrying. Even when he did fall asleep,  He awoke two hours early with only one thought: now he needed to lie to Lois.

Sure, she didn't know he was superman, but that was mostly avoidance, ignorance, little white lies here and there. Now, he REALLY had to lie to her, he had to make up a backstory and a personality and a name to explain away the clone. It was already such a tangled web, and now he had to add more. All it took was her asking the wrong person, finding some small contradiction, asking one difficult question, and the entire lie-- his identity, would crumble.

...And that's not touching on all the ways the clone could ruin this.

At around 6 am, Clark left his room, deciding to leave for work early and find some breakfast elsewhere. He stepped into the living room, getting himself a glass of water to get his day started. It was peacefully empty in the living room. The clone wasn't there.

Despite the sinister implications of this development, Clark felt a rush of relief: It was gone! Out of his house, out of his life, and he had space to himself once again. 

He did not want to wonder where it went, what it was doing, anything. He was alone again. He could throw excuses at Lois without concern for the clone tattling on him. Honestly, it's a godsend: the kid hated Clark, Clark couldn't stand him, He wanted attention and ownership Clark could not provide; it was best for both of them if the kid disappeared and maybe spent some time learning how to not be homicidal. 

A weight slowly shifting off his shoulders, Clark sprung to the bathroom to get ready for the day.  He could take his time now, he was already running early. He brushed teeth and shaved, and, after a moment, he decided he might as well take a shower, having not risked the vulnerability since the clone's arrival.

He pulled the curtain aside and jumped, toppling backwards and smacking his head on the door knob, denting it. Thank god he'd only stripped down halfway. The mirror of his face snapped awake in shock, stumbling and gripping the tile wall for support. 

He blinked hard and rubbed his eyes, glowering down at Clark. "What do you want?"

Clark's mouth gaped in audacity and disapointment, quite taken aback. "What are you doing in the shower?!"

"I was sleeping."

"Why?!" Clark picked himself up, towel clutched infront of his chest. "I thought you were gone! Why weren't you on the couch?"

"You were looking for me?" He asked, glancing up at Clark with huge eyes, muddied and watery as puddles. "I... I like sleeping in closet pods."

Clark couldn't hold back his disgusted confusion, a flood of worry and bitterness reentering his nervous system. The kid was still here. He must have done something truly heinous in his past life to deserve this. "Get out of my bathroom." 

He stepped out of the bathtub and squeezed past Clark into the main room, watching him until he shut the door. Clark redressed for work, not going to risk bathing after such a shock. He settled for a combination of rinsing his hair under the sick (embarrassingly difficult considering his height), and an understated cologne over deodorant. He was now somewhat acceptable for a work environment. 

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Superboy waited about two minutes, listening to superman as he left the building, before taking out his treasure: a little black book. It was filled with unreadable text, symbols, and occasionally little curvy arrows pointing earlier in the paragraphs. The only legible text was a few scribbled words on the inside cover: Lois Lane, 888-447-5594, 241 E 46th St.