Capítulo 134: You're Real And I'm Not Dreaming.
They were now traveling at speeds beyond Mach 30, with Clark carrying him across the vast Siberian plains.
"I'm taking you back to the Watchtower."
Clark glanced down at him, his eyes filled with nothing but Soren, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Soren had already shifted back to his human form.
Clark's entire being was consumed by him.
The warmth of Clark's breath brushed against Soren's face as he spoke, making Soren's cheeks instantly flush.
That familiar sensation stirred something deep within Soren, making him want to cry, but he held it back.
Instead, he tightened his grip around Clark, burying his head in Clark's chest, "I thought I'd never see you again."
…In that moment, when he had closed his eyes in despair, clutched in Clark's hands, he had truly believed it would be the last time he ever saw him.
The distance across a universe is truly too vast.
Each time he reached the farthest edge of space, a deep fear gripped him—that if he turned back, he might never see Earth again.
So far that Clark had to risk his very life just to be by his side.
Clark placed a trembling hand on the back of Soren's head.
His voice, filled with pain and trembling, rumbled deeply above Soren: "…I won't let you leave me again, Soren."
The Watchtower hung in a geosynchronous orbit 22,300 kilometers above Earth's surface.
It was a spindle-shaped structure with a ring-shaped satellite wing.
Its existence was entirely classified, known only to members of the Justice League who accessed the secret base through teleportation channels.
When Clark brought Soren into the Watchtower, the place was eerily empty.
In the vast, echoing halls of the Watchtower, only the faint hum of life-support systems could be heard.
During their escape from the Hydra base, Soren had lost one of his shoes.
Now, cradled in Clark's arms, his bare right foot hung out in the open, with traces of green plant sap smeared around his ankle.
As Soren took in the surroundings of the Watchtower, a sense of unease began to stir in his heart—why hadn't they encountered anyone else here?
Soren grasped the folds of Clark's cape at his shoulder, wanting to ask him something, but Clark carried him into a small room before he could speak.
The room was simple and square, with only a bed, a sofa, and a table as furniture.
Clark set him down on the small sofa and knelt before him, saying, "You can stay here for now, okay? This is where I usually rest. I'll bring more furniture for you later."
Soren sat up, crossing his legs, his eyes filled with concern.
He gently reached out to touch the graying hair at Clark's temples, his fingers threading softly through the strands, too afraid to press too hard, "What happened to your hair?"
Clark took Soren's hand, his eyes locked on Soren's face, completely unconcerned about the white streaks in his hair, "That doesn't matter… What matters is that you're back with me."
He took a deep breath, and his eyes reddened again.
Turning his head slightly, he pressed a gentle yet forceful kiss onto the back of Soren's hand, "Soren... you're real. I'm not dreaming..."
"I was just thinking I might be hallucinating. You have no idea—when I heard someone calling out the name 'Angemon,' my heart almost went wild," Clark said, his voice trembling as he moved Soren's hand to his chest, "Feel it—it's still beating like crazy."
Soren's hand instinctively flinched when it touched the blood-red 'S' on Clark's chest, but then he pressed his palm firmly against it.
Soren's nose began to sting, his vision blurring with tears.
He leaned in to embrace Clark, burying his face in the crook of Clark's neck, "I missed you so much. I missed you more than you could know. I was so afraid I'd never see you again… I-I didn't mean to hide it from you before. I was just scared that if you knew I was Angemon all along, you'd think I'd been lying to you the entire time…"
Clark held him tightly, his voice low as he murmured, "It doesn't matter anymore… none of it matters now… As long as I can still see—" He suddenly stopped, as though the word he was about to say was too painful to utter, "As long as I can still see you, I have nothing else to ask for."
Tears silently rolled down Soren's face as he clung to Clark.
The tears slipped down Clark's white cape, falling to the floor.
"Don't cry, Soren… please don't cry," Clark said, his voice trembling as he hurriedly wiped Soren's tears away with his thumb, kissing the droplets caught on his eyelashes, "When you cry, it feels like my heart is breaking."
His voice was full of raw, burning emotion, and his love for Soren was so intense that it felt like it could consume them both.
He almost wanted to pull Soren so close that they became one, but in the end, he only combed his fingers gently through Soren's black hair, embracing him tenderly and protectively once more.
They exchanged many words afterward, simple, repetitive, and trivial.
But for two people in love, it never felt tiresome.
They could say "I love you" over and over without growing weary, rambling on about nothing, yet finding endless joy in it.
It was as if by continuing to speak, the pain and suffering of the past three years could be buried under the weight of their words, sinking into the depths of their hearts, forgotten.
Later, they lay in bed together.
Clark lay on his back, one leg bent, while Soren rested on his chest, Clark's arm wrapped around his waist.
Soren tugged at Clark's white cape, seeming tired from all the talking.
He turned his face, resting it against the large, red "S" on Clark's chest.
After a moment of silence, he asked, "Why did you change your suit to black and white?"
Clark gently stroked his soft black hair, lowering his gaze to the crown of Soren's head.
He hesitated to answer, his mouth opening slightly before he finally gave up, replying in a quiet, resigned voice, "...In remembrance."
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