บท 265: In His Arms, Across the Stars
Since Clark had often brought him through the windows, both of them had forgotten that the usual way to enter an apartment is through the front door. Clark hadn't given him a key, and he hadn't remembered that fact until now, leaving him sitting on the small apartment steps, bored out of his mind, waiting for Clark to return.
He ended up waiting until late at night.
After playing his Switch until it ran out of battery, fatigue quickly set in. He curled up with his knees hugged to his chest at the door and fell into a deep sleep.
Since waking up in April with no memory, his sleep quality had been quite good.
His profile rested in the crook of his arm, his head nodding slightly as he slept soundly.
A pair of dirty, old dad sneakers gently approached him.
Clark, who had disappeared for most of the day, looked down with a gaze filled with love and concern, tracing the sleeping face of Soren with his eyes.
Curled up in a little ball, Soren resembled a delicate kitten that had unexpectedly wandered to this place, his peaceful and serene expression making Clark's heart ache with affection.
He felt like a towering mountain, stooping down to ponder over a small tulip.
Clark carefully lifted Soren into his arms, adjusting his obviously uncomfortable position so that Soren's head rested against his shoulder. With a soft sigh and a gentle smile, he placed a kiss on Soren's pale, soft cheek.
—This was his little kitten.
The only small furball he had ever cared for in his life.
In his world, Soren was sometimes a kitten, sometimes a young man, sometimes a teenager, and at other times, a child.
And in every corner of Soren's life, Clark had been there to deliver him, to carry his coffin, and to pour the final dirt on his grave.
…They had long been witnesses to each other's lives.
When Soren woke up, he found himself lying on the narrow single bed of the small apartment.
He lifted the covers and called out, "Clark!" Immediately, Clark walked out of the kitchen, shirtless, revealing his strong, well-defined muscles, and holding a glass of fresh chia seed lime juice.
He smiled slightly as he approached Soren, feeding him a sip of the juice. Squatting down, he asked, "How about we go to Mexico for tacos later?"
"Sounds great!" Soren perked up, clapping his hands. "Are you really taking me to Mexico?"
"Once you're ready," Clark replied, gazing at him with a gentle smile.
Soren instantly jumped out of bed in a hurry, slipped into the short-sleeved shirt and cargo shorts Clark had prepared for him, and quickly washed up. He then wiggled his tail and looked eagerly at Clark.
With a smile, Clark scooped him up and flew out the window.
In an instant, they arrived by the roadside of a highway in Mexico, right in front of a shop with a faded red and green sign.
"I heard this place has great flavors; it's considered the best taco spot by the locals," Clark said.
Before he could finish, Soren excitedly rushed to push the door open.
Clark ordered two servings of tacos for each of them, along with some fries and two glasses of the local specialty drink, Vahacan, making sure to instruct the server not to add hot sauce to Soren's tacos.
They sat under the sunshade by the roadside, enjoying the vast and bright semi-desert plain of Mexico while eating their brunch. Clark was just about to reach out and wipe the dipping sauce that had accidentally smeared on Soren's mouth when he suddenly paused.
He turned his head and gazed toward the end of the road, where a bus full of passengers was approaching the skyline.
…The bus's engine was making some ominous sounds, but the passengers and the driver remained completely oblivious.
In the next moment, a gentle breeze swept by, and Soren's chair in front of him was already empty.
Inside the bus, the passengers were chatting in small groups.
They were discussing the weather today, the jobs they had found, and the rain expected in the coming days. Although the bus would occasionally jolt on the concrete road, the passengers were accustomed to such bumps and didn't pay them any mind.
Until someone gently sniffed their nose and said to their companion, "Do you smell something strange?"
"What strange smell?" the companion asked, puzzled.
"It smells like something is burning… Oh my God, look at the back of the bus; it's smoking!!"
His exclamation caused all the passengers to turn their heads toward the back of the bus.
—Sure enough, everyone in the bus saw the thick white smoke billowing from the rear, and this white smoke was quickly turning black, instantly casting an ominous shadow over all the passengers.
Someone shouted for the driver to pull over. The panicked driver still maintained some composure, knowing that in such a situation, sudden braking was not an option. He began to shift down gears while gently tapping the brakes, continuously praying in his heart, hoping that nothing would go wrong.
At that moment, a gaping hole suddenly tore open at the top of the bus, and a broad, powerful hand grabbed the edge of the crack.
From the opening emerged a red letter "S," familiar to all Earthlings.
The chairman of the Justice League jumped down into the bus, nodding at them and saying, "This bus is about to explode. I need to move everyone to a relatively safe place before the engine blows up. Please be prepared."
A tall, slender Black man immediately exclaimed, "What? Superman, we don't need—"
Before he could finish his sentence, he felt a buzzing in his eardrums, and the quickly passing scenery seemed like a film strip that had been abruptly yanked. When he regained his senses, he found himself standing in front of a taco shop by the roadside.
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