Forlorn, Clark thought, was a really good word. It had just the right hollow sound to describe how he felt, watching his classmates and friends pile off the bus amidst laughter and good-natured grousing. Chloe spotted him right away, despite his usual attempts to remain invisible; hunching along in his new-bought finery, sans homework and with really nothing more than a notebook, a pen, and the vain hope that no one would pull a pop quiz on him today.

After everything yesterday morning, he just hadn't been able to summon up the energy to go home, face his parents and get his stuff. Lex had solved the problem with the one resource he was never short of or unwilling to part with: money. Instead of a tense and possibly painful trip home, they'd had an almost-normal Sunday afternoon shopping for a few days' worth of necessities in Metropolis. Although Lex had made some effort to upgrade Clark's style, Clark had put his foot down on anything too upscale.

After all, it was bad enough he was living with Lex. A sudden change from Fordman's two-for-one jeans to the finest that downtown Metropolis had to offer would scream out to some people that Clark, and his affections, were being bought. And the last thing Clark wanted was for word of that to get back to the ears he cared about, his parent's or Lex's. His father would throw a fit, his mother would have doubts and worries, and Lex... Lex still had trouble believing anyone could or would want him for anything but his name and fortune.

Chloe reached him just as that comforting thought lodged itself firmly in the forefront of his brain. "You're looking awfully chipper today. Who died?" she asked, familiar grin playing around the corners of her mouth.

"No one, yet. Although if you keep looking that perky at this hour of the morning..." Clark trailed off meaningfully, hoping to draw her into their usual banter and away from all the morning's oddities.

"So, why weren't you on the bus this morning, or should I even ask, O King of Tardiness?"

No such luck. Still, dealing with Lex had taught him that a careful omission didn't have quite the same sting as actual lying, so he just shrugged and dropped his eyes.

She laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. That was Pete's cue to walk up and sling a carefully nonchalant arm over her shoulder and say, "Hey, Kent. Take that black hole to school again?"

More mumbling and shrugging got them into the school and split off to find their lockers. Thankfully, neither Pete nor Chloe had commented on the new, well, everything. His morning run had served to dust up the jeans and shoes sufficiently to disguise the shiny-newness of them, and everyone gets new shirts sometimes. Just usually not at the same time as new shoes, socks, underwear, notebook, etc, etc.... Shit, at this rate he'd be owing Lex his pension when they were old men. Of course, Lex would never accept a cent, but Clark would always remember, and be grateful.

Clark loaded up his arms with what books and homework he'd left in his locker over the weekend and went off to face the hordes. Lack of popularity gave him a sort of anonymity that he welcomed today; eyes slid right past Clark to alight on the faces of people who mattered. He navigated the halls with his usual slouching posture, trying to avoid becoming a target or running into anyone, and slid into his seat in homeroom with a sigh of relief.

His first few classes went by in a blur, his brain caught in an endless loop of excuses, fears, doubts and the ever-present teenage hormones. He tried to take notes, and his complete lack of success was a bittersweet reminder of last Friday. Although he made it to lunch without any really close calls, he knew that at some point he'd have to offer up some excuse for his missing math homework and biology lab notebook.

Lunch, however, was a different matter entirely. Evidently Chloe had noticed his new wardrobe, and also somehow correlated everything he'd been missing this morning with their homework from Friday. He hadn't even known she knew what work he'd taken home; hell, he barely remembered after everything that happened. And so the not-so-subtle grilling had begun, with Pete hovering in the background making clever remarks and helping tear down any excuse he could give.

Clark gave up. "I had a big fight with my dad and spent the night at Lex's, ok?"

Chloe's face lit up with delight at this new fact uncovered, while Pete's darkened with disapproval. "And what sort of familial difficulties could send you straight to the bosom of the Luthor clan? I bet that really put the cap on whatever it was that pissed your dad off."

Clark sighed, putting his head down in his hands. "Yeah, you could say that. God, I have to go by there tonight and get my books or I'll never pass the History test tomorrow."

"Wait, you're staying *tonight*, too?" Pete asked, his voice strident, belligerent, and loud.

Clark's hissed urgently, "Be quiet. Yes. I've got Mom's permission. My dad and I just... he needs time, ok, Pete?"

"And you're giving him time by staying with Lex Luthor? I'll bet he just loves that. Jesus, Clark, what did you do, burn down the barn?" Pete's voice was still carrying, drawing surreptitious stares. A hush was slowly rippling outward from their table as people listened in, eager for gossip.

"No, Pete. Can we not talk about this right now?" Clark turned a pleading eye on Chloe, adding, "Can you please talk some sense into him?"

"Sense? All the sense I need is my eyes showin' me your new look, my ears hearin' you always defendin' that Luthor, and my nose smellin' a rat," Pete stood up, grabbing his bag and tray. "Well, my feet are gonna walk me right outta here, and you can just talk to the hand."

With that, Pete stalked off, leaving Clark to stare miserably after him. "Well, *that* went well," he said, turning to Chloe, who was, in turn, glaring at him speculatively.

"It might have gone better if the pieces weren't all adding up to a pretty disturbing picture, Clark. You want to tell me what's going on?" She had her reporter's hackles up, demanding the truth at any cost.

"Jesus, Chloe, not you, too? Can we please not do this here?" Clark pleaded, his stomach flipping. He hadn't expected Pete to react well, not really, but he'd hoped that Chloe might be more understanding.

The bell rang. Chloe glared at it as if it had deliberately ruined a perfectly good interrogation and said, "All right, Clark. You have until after school. Meet me in the Torch office and you'd better have a good explanation for this, got it?

Clark closed his eyes briefly in thanks and gathered up his things. "Got it. Thanks, Chloe."

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

If lunch was a close call, gym class was an unmitigated disaster.

He'd no sooner opened his locker than he was accosted by three of the football team's finest.

Josh, their de facto leader, spoke up first. "So, I hear you're stayin' up at the Luthor place now. He buy you those clothes, Kent?"

Clark tried ignoring them, taking his shoes off and pulling out his gym clothes.

Josh's cronies, who Clark secretly thought of as Thing 1 and Thing 2, piped up, "What'd you have to do to pay for 'em, Kent? He make you suck his cock for that sweater, Kent?"

"He make you bend over for those nice shoes, Kent?"

Clark continued to ignore them, grabbing the hem of his sweater.

Josh took that as an invitation to up the ante. "All right, Kent, show us what a Luthor's boy toy has to offer."

Clark let his hands drop, saying quietly, "I'm not a toy. He's my friend and he's helping me out."

Josh leaned in close, getting right in Clark's face. His breath stank of lunchroom pizza, and it was hot on Clark's face as he hissed, "I'll just bet he helps you out. Out of your clothes, out of the closet. You gay, Kent? You like being Luthor's bitch, or do you just do it for the perks?"

Clark hadn't thought that anything they said could really get to him, but the wound of his dad's words was too raw, too new. And Josh had just stuck his dirty little fingers in and twisted them around, deliberately grinding his own filth into Clark's brain. His vision started to go red around the edges and he controlled himself with an effort, taking a step sideways instead and replying, "Why, you jealous? I didn't know you cared, Josh."

Josh reacted to that like he'd been slapped, stepping back and glaring. "I just don't want to be sharing my locker room with a fag, that's all."

His buddies were quick to defend their leader's masculinity. Thing 1 replied, "Yeah, we don't want you checkin' us out."

"Or trying to touch us or nothin'," added Thing 2, right on cue.

Clark couldn't help it, the absurdity of the whole scene just made him laugh. It was short, cold and bitter; his reply was sharp and cruel as he asked, "What makes you think I'd want to touch you?" He looked them all over, his expression one he'd seen Lex use when offered inferior wine at a restaurant once. He tried to channel that feeling of Luthor superiority as he replied, "You're not exactly up to my standards."

"You sayin' we're not good enough for you, huh, faggot?"

Clark looked at the three jocks, really looked at them. They were stupid, petty and provincial; trying to make themselves feel tough by bashing him. He knew how to get rid of them now, heard an echo of Lex in his head as he spoke.

"Yes, Josh, I'm saying that you're not good enough for me. You couldn't hold a conversation if your life depended on it, you're about as attractive as last Friday's mystery meat, and you'll never be more than a has-been high school football quarterback. Why in the world would I want *you* if I was, as you so charmingly put it, Lex Luthor's bitch?"

Ignoring the insults, Josh instead fixated on the one fact that Clark couldn't, wouldn't, deny or lie about. "So you're admitting it, then?"

Clark sighed, shaking his head as if dealing with a small child. Or the intellectual equivalent thereof. He wouldn't lie, but he'd learned a lot about the art of misdirection. "No, Josh, I said *if* I were. Pay attention."

The rest of the locker room had emptied out, and either the gym teacher would come looking for them to hurry them up, or he'd be too busy with class to even notice their absence. Clark was hoping for the former but knew, realistically, that Josh and his buddies were counting on the latter.

"Well, are you?" Josh asked.

"Am I what, Josh? Tired of your crap? Yes. Why don't you guys just fuck off so I can get changed in peace?" The jocks looked as amazed at the language as Clark felt, but he chalked it up to Lex's good influence. And being completely fed up with a day that was obviously only going to get worse.

After all, if these guys had put two and two together and gotten "shacked up with his gay lover", then Clark could bet that the rest of the school was already full of wild stories and bizarre speculations. Christ, he hadn't even seen his lover naked, and already he was being reviled for things he might never get a chance to actually try.

"Did you just tell me to fuck off, Kent? 'Cos I thought fags were supposed to be smart, and that just wasn't a smart thing to do."

"Yes, Josh, I did. What part did you find hard to understand? Should I use smaller words?" God, he was tired. He hadn't slept well in his big, empty guest room bed, he'd had a hard morning and a horrible lunch hour during which he hadn't managed to actually *eat* a single thing, and now this. He brought a hand up to pinch at the... not headache, precisely, just a spot of tension and aggravation right between his brows.

And thus completely missed seeing it when Josh swung at him. Josh's fist connected solidly with Clark's gut, and he could swear he heard bones breaking in Josh's hand. He just managed to react as though the blow had had any chance of hurting him when the answer to his prayers came around the corner.

"What is going on here?" demanded Mr. Cross, the new gym teacher and football coach.

"Shit! I think he broke my hand, coach!"

Clark tried to look innocent and hurt. He wasn't sure it worked, but the coach aimed an open-handed blow to his stomach that would have stung the crap out of anyone else. He yelped and jumped back. "Hey! What'd you do that for?"

"Pretty solid abs you got there, Kent. You work out, or is that all from farm chores?"

"Um... chores, mostly. Look, Mr. Cross, I didn't mean to hurt him..."

Mr. Cross just snorted. "Not your fault your abs of steel got in the way of his fist of glass. Now, if you're going to be ok, I'll just escort Mr. Stilson and his friends to the principal's office."

"I--I'll be fine, coach. What should I...?" Clark gestured to his gym clothes.

"I think you've had enough of a workout today. Why don't you just go study in the library until your next class?" Mr. Cross didn't wait for an answer, just hustled the other boys out with a wave and, "Let's go, boys. I think you need a lesson in tolerance and hate crimes."

Hate crimes. Jesus. Clark gathered up his things, locking his gym gear away and wandering disconsolately out into the hall. Mr. Cross hadn't given him a hall pass, but he easily dodged the hall monitors and made it into the library unmolested. The librarian gave him a strange look as he headed off into one of the little-used sections to find a table.

Clark sat down heavily, head in hands. He'd broken someone's hand because he wasn't weak enough to make a good victim. He'd been outed by accident and more hate, Pete's blind prejudice against all things Luthor making him raise his voice over facts that should have, could have, been kept private for at least a few more days.

He'd always worried about the world hating him for being an alien. Now he had to deal with people hating him for who he loved. For being gay, and for being Lex's boyfriend. And he had to worry about accidentally hurting people who were deliberately trying to hurt *him*. *And*, on top of it all, he was dating an experienced, sexy, willing older man who he couldn't even *touch* for fear of hurting *him*.

And, of course, there was the upcoming 'explanation' with Chloe after school. One more class and he got to come out to his second-best friend, and hope that she'd forgive him for all his pining over Lana and leading both girls on for all these years. Oh, and tell her that his dad had kicked him out for not-fucking his new boyfriend, her dad's boss.

Well, fuck.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Surprisingly, he managed to make it through his last class with a minimum of crap. Even his teacher seemed to go easy on him, willing to accept an IOU on his homework in light of his track record. Clark silently thanked the gods that at least his teachers hadn't yet heard what was going on. He knew that once they did, once he was well and truly outed to everyone, he'd be getting a hard time from most of them, too. After all, Smallville wasn't exactly on the forefront of tolerance and open-mindedness. Hell, Pete still got crap from that one old bastard who taught freshman history.

Word of his confrontation with Josh spread quickly, so although his earlier anonymity was completely and probably permanently shot, no one approached him. He could pretend to ignore the whispers and stares that followed him as he did a quick run-by on his locker to drop off his books before trudging off to meet with Chloe at the Torch office.

When he got there, she and Lana were sitting at Chloe's desk, heads together as they concentrated on something on Chloe's computer screen. They jumped up guiltily when he cleared his throat, and Chloe quickly blanked the screen, but not before he got a glimpse of Lex's unmistakable profile.

"Clark! Hi, I was just waiting for you," said Chloe, fidgeting nervously with the hem of her shirt.

"I've got to get to work, guys. I'll leave you two to talk," said Lana, grabbing her purse and making a hasty exit as Clark centered his attention on Chloe's computer.

"What were you looking at, Chloe?" Clark asked, letting the frustration he was feeling leak into his voice.

Eyes wide and guilty, Chloe tried to prevaricate for a moment before she wilted completely under Clark's tired, angry gaze. She turned and twitched the mouse, waking the computer back up and revealing a shot of Lex, gazing off camera, his normally sharp face softened with obvious affection.

"Looking at me, was he?" asked Clark, sitting heavily in Lana's vacated chair.

Chloe looked surprised.

"What, did you expect me to deny it?" Clark asked angrily, calming himself down before continuing, "I know when I'm busted. I also know that there needs to be some kind of damage control done, and Lex will probably be willing to give you some kind of exclusive in exchange for final approval on anything you write."

If there was one thing he'd learned from being Lex's friend, it was spin control. He'd seen Lex and his father turn disaster after kidnapping after assassination attempt into positive PR for LuthorCorp, and he knew Lex would agree with his assessment. If every kid in Smallville high school was going home tonight secure in the knowledge that Lex Luthor was buggering one of the local boys, then spin control had to start now.

"You mean it?"

Clark looked up to see the excitement in Chloe's face. However Clark's friend Chloe might have felt about his relationship with Lex, she had left the building as soon as Chloe the Reporter smelled a story. Which really sucked, because Chloe the Friend was the person he'd really been hoping to spend the afternoon with, and it looked like that just wasn't going to be an option now that he'd opened his big mouth. Now he might never find out how she really felt about it all, might never have a chance to just *talk* to her about it.

"Yeah, Chloe. But when I say final approval, I mean it. In fact, let me call him now," Clark held his hand out for Chloe's cell phone, which she handed over without hesitation, barely able to keep from literally bouncing with glee. He dialed Lex's number from memory and set up the interview for tomorrow night. The conversation was so cold and businesslike that Clark's heart sunk even lower.

He didn't even get an "I love you" or even a "see you later" before Lex hung up.

Clark could hear the hollow echo in his voice as he got up to go. "Look, Chloe, I've got to go home and get my stuff. Try to talk some sense into Pete, and don't spread any rumors until you get the whole story, ok?"

Already absorbed in making notes in her computer, Chloe nodded absently and waved as he gathered up his energy and left.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Clark just kept on leaving, running at normal speed until he made it out of sight and then super-speeding off in a random direction, letting the wind scrub the slate of his mind clean. His feet went wherever they felt like it, the world blurring into unrecognizability the same way his thoughts had felt all day. Too much information going by for him to process, so much happening that nothing made sense anymore.

Time passed much like the scenery, unremarked and unremarkable. It seemed like one minute the afternoon sun was making long shadow paths for him to follow, and the next the stars had come out and the world was an alien landscape of dark and darker that his x-ray vision only served to confuse even further.

The skeletons of buildings surrounded him, abandoned and silent now that their time had passed. A few security guards and janitors wandered through them, spots of bright motion that drew his eye. Clark had nothing with him but the clothes on his back, not even a clear idea of where he was. He was tired, cold and hungry. And very much alone.

He spotted a pay phone, and quietly thanked Mr. T for showing him the light as he dialed 1-800-COLLECT and prepared to add one more burden onto the load he'd already tossed in Lex's lap.

"Hey, it's me." Clark tried to keep his voice casual, dreading the response. The cold businessman he'd spoken with earlier had seemed so far away from the Lex he'd spent the weekend with that Clark just didn't know what to expect.

"Hey yourself. Where you calling from, anyway?" Lex sounded tired, and worried. Like a man whose boyfriend hadn't come home, and hadn't called for hours.

Clark sighed in relief. "Pay phone in... oh God, Wichita, I think. Actually, I was kinda hoping you could, um... come and get me."

"Of course, Clark." A pause, and Clark heard Lex talking to someone in the background, "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Clark's composure crumbled in the face of Lex's warm, understanding tone, and he began to sob, "I... Chloe, she... and these guys in gym class... I've been running, but I keep getting lost... God, Lex, I feel so lost..."

"Calm down, Clark, it's ok. I'll be there as quickly as I can. Can you give me your cross streets?"

Clark took a deep breath and a look around, one that finally took in his surroundings as a real place, the place he was currently stranded. "Um, 5th and Frontage, in front of a bunch of office buildings." Clark looked up, and laughed. "In fact, you'll appreciate the irony that at least one of them has a giant LuthorCorp logo on the side."

"All right, Clark, from that and the phone number I can get directions. Wait five minutes and call me back, and I'll have an ETA."

Lex's voice was back to cold and businesslike, and it cut Clark like a knife. Here he was, putting his friend out again, asking Lex to get him out of a mess he'd gotten himself into. "On second thought, why don't you just tell me where I'm at and I'll get myself home."

"Nonsense, Clark." More background mumbling, and then the warm tone was back like it had never left. "I'm having my car brought around, and I've almost got the directions pulled up on my laptop. It seems you are in Wichita, and in the Ferrari I should be there inside of an hour. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you until I get there, or call the security guard in that building and have him let you in and give you a cup of coffee?"

"Lex, I..." Clark wasn't sure what to say, but he knew he was tired of being alone. "I miss you."

"I was worried, Clark. Why didn't you call before this?" Lex admonished gently, his voice fading in and out in a familiar pattern as he walked through the mansion, down to the car and got in.

"I... I wasn't... near a phone. What time is it, anyway?" Clark hadn't found a clock yet, and he was starting to wonder how long he'd been running. His thighs ached a little from the countless miles they'd propelled him over while his mind had processed.

"It's about midnight. Do you want me to stop by your parents' house and tell your mom you're ok, or do you want to wait until I get there and call her yourself?"

"What... why?" Clark couldn't seem to process this, but Lex's voice never lost its comforting softness. He seemed to sense that Clark just wasn't quite up to complex concepts right now.

"I called her when you didn't show up for dinner. I thought you might have gone home and gotten caught up with family things. I expect she's worried now."

Clark felt cold; guilt and loneliness wash over him. He'd disappointed so many people, betrayed his father's trust, lost his friendship with Pete and become just another story to Chloe. Lex was still there for him, was always there even if only as a kind voice on the other end of the line. Despite everything Clark had done to him, from the meteors to the impending downfall of Lex's public reputation, Lex was still kind.

"Call that security guard, and then my mom. A cup of coffee sounds really good, and we can talk on the way home." Even though Clark didn't want to let go of that lifeline, that last little spark keeping him warm inside, he knew he couldn't allow his mother to worry. "Tell my mom that I just needed to think, and I lost track of time. That's pretty much true."

"You've got it, Clark."

"Thanks, Lex." Clark got ready to hang up, steeling himself to lose even that little bit of human contact.

"Clark?"

"Yeah, Lex?"

"I missed you, too. I'm sorry I was cold earlier, but my dad's vultures were here, and I couldn't let on how I feel about you." Lex's words were tinged with guilt and affection.

Clark found his face stiff as his mouth tried to curl up into a small, sad smile. "I'm sorry, too, Lex. For everything."

"I'll see you soon." Somehow Lex managed to package a wealth of meaning into those last words before he disconnected. Clark crossed the street to the LuthorCorp building, feeling hope for the first time that day.

continued in Out, Chapter 10: Test Drive