The school bell had rung ages ago.
The sunset filtered through dusty windows, turning the floating specks in the air a golden hue.
Clark slumped in the creaky swivel chair, looking like a fish just pulled from the water.
"So, that's the deal," he said weakly, his fingers absently picking at the worn spot on his football wristguard. "Dio flat-out refused to talk and threatened to deck me if I kept asking."
A brief silence followed—
"Pfft!"
Pete was the first to crack, nearly dropping his camera.
He fumbled to catch it, his shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter.
Then Chloe burst out laughing, not holding back one bit.
She was doubled over, her glasses sliding down her nose. "So you got scared off and came running back? Clark, the star running back of the football team, spooked by his little brother's glare?"
Clark rolled his eyes, exasperated. "You didn't see the look on his face. It was like he was gonna eat me alive."
"Oh, come on," Chloe said, wiping tears from her eyes. "You're always so helpless when it comes to that brother of yours."
"Helpless," Clark admitted, scratching the back of his head in resignation. "What can I say? It's Dio."
He stood, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "Anyway, I gotta go pick up Saraphiel from school. If that kid gets antsy waiting, he'll probably start feeding the squirrels again."
As Clark hurried off, Chloe called after him, "See you at the usual spot tonight!"
"The usual spot?" Clark paused at the door, turning back with a confused look.
"The usual spot?" Pete yelped, jumping like a cat with its tail stepped on. "You guys aren't seriously—"
"Of course we're going to check out the bakery where Dio works!" Chloe cut him off, rolling her eyes as she quickly gathered the papers on her desk. "What, you thought we were gonna interrogate him?"
"Oh, right…"
Chloe looked up to add something else, but Clark's broad figure had already disappeared around the corner of the hallway.
The big football player gave a distant wave, seemingly agreeing to this impromptu reconnaissance mission.
Pete groaned, slumping back in his chair. "I knew it. Every time Dio's involved, it's never good news."
Never good news?
Chloe's lips curled into a sly smile as she watched Clark's retreating figure through the window.
"Thanks, Dio," she murmured, her fingers lightly tapping the desk. "Guess this is the one good thing you've done."
---
At Smallville Elementary, the playground buzzed with energy during lunch. Kids ran around like a flock of cheerful birds.
But under the oldest, leafiest white oak tree, a small pocket of quiet held strong, as if an invisible barrier kept the noise at bay.
Saraphiel Kent crouched by the tree's roots, carefully holding a few acorns in his small hands.
He'd worn his new dinosaur-printed shirt today—a gift from Aunt Martha not long ago.
Nearby, a group of kids played hopscotch, their bright laughter and lively jumps floating over with the breeze.
"Hey…" Saraphiel took a deep breath, mustering his courage.
He took two steps closer, flashing a friendly smile. "Can… can I play with you guys?"
The words hung in the air. The girl drawing the hopscotch grid looked up.
But the moment she saw him, she flinched, letting out a short yelp as if something had burned her.
The chalk in her hand snapped in two from the sudden force.
The other kids froze, their laughter cutting off like someone hit pause. In sync, they stepped back, forming an awkward, glaring circle of empty space around Saraphiel.
"S-sorry…" the girl stammered, her eyes darting away. "We… we've already got enough people… really…"
Saraphiel's outstretched hand slowly dropped. His fingers tightened, the rough acorn shells pressing into his soft palms, bringing a faint sting of clarity.
He didn't say anything else. He just backed into the oak's massive shadow, sat down, hugged his knees, and watched the kids resume their game as if his question had been nothing more than a passing breeze.
Not long ago, he could at least sort of join in their games.
But lately, they avoided him like mice spotting a cat.
"Brother? It's their instinct," a cold voice whispered deep in his ear. "They're afraid of you. Like livestock dodging a wildfire."
"It's just self-preservation, Brother."
"But…" The voice of Zion sharpened. "If you wanted, Brother, I could make those ants stop smiling forever. Want to try? Like we did with that tin toy…"
"It's okay, Zion…" Saraphiel shook his head in his mind, soothing a restless friend. "At least… I've got you."
"…"
"Brother," Zion's tone turned exasperated. "Can you not get all sappy right now? Have some respect for me."
"Hehe." Saraphiel let out a sly little giggle, as if he'd won some secret game.
After all, Dad had been reading him bedtime stories every night lately to keep the nightmares at bay.
He'd comfort him, saying, "Saraphiel, there's nothing to worry about."
"He's your brother, my other son."
"Our family."
"Do you think your left hand would fight your right?"
"I might leave you one day, and so might Uncle Jonathan, Aunt Martha, even Clark and Dio."
"But Zion—that kid will stick with you. Nothing can pull you two apart."
Stretching, Saraphiel snapped out of his thoughts.
He tilted his head back, gazing at the oak's canopy, and placed two fingers to his lips, whistling a soft, lilting tune.
Moments later, a chubby gray squirrel scampered down the trunk, nuzzling his fingers affectionately.
"And I've got you too, Gray," he said, pouring the acorns onto the roots, watching the squirrels happily stash their loot.
The school's stray cats, dogs, even the birds perched on the fence—they all liked being near him.
Animals didn't look at him like he was a monster. But the other kids…
A few passing children glanced at Saraphiel playing with the squirrel, then quickly hurried away, skirting around him.
---
Ding-a-ling!
The final bell rang, shattering the afternoon quiet.
Saraphiel slowly packed his little backpack, watching the other kids form groups, laughing and roughhousing as they left the classroom.
Only when the noise faded did he sling the bag over his shoulder and walk out of the empty school building, head down.
But when he spotted Clark's tall, familiar figure waiting at the gate as always, his tense little body finally relaxed.
"What's up, little man?" Clark scooped him up, settling him in the crook of his arm, patting his back with his free hand. "Did those pesky squirrels steal your snack again?"
"No, Gray's a good squirrel. He was just hungry," Saraphiel mumbled, shaking his head.
He went quiet for a moment before asking softly, "Clark… am I… really weird? Different from everyone else?"
Clark's easy smile faltered.
He ruffled his brother's soft black hair, glancing at the kids nearby who were sneaking looks, only to quickly turn away or pull their friends along.
"Saraphiel," Clark said gently, carrying his brother toward home. "Sometimes… the world takes a little longer to understand and accept people who shine a bit differently." He paused, a faint sigh in his voice. "It takes a lot of patience."
He knew that feeling all too well.
"Crown-and-glory nonsense," Zion sneered. "He's clearly afraid of you too. Everyone is, except Father."
Ignoring the voice in his head, Saraphiel nodded. "Let's go home."
Clark smiled, adjusting his grip on the little guy.
The sunset stretched their shadows long across the dusty country road.
Saraphiel stared at the dandelions by the path, their seeds floating off like tiny white umbrellas.
Clark stole glances at his brother's face. Those usually bright black eyes were misty, long lashes casting soft shadows on his cheeks.
Ugh.
"Saraphiel," Clark said, his voice softer, almost cautious. "You're still pretty down, huh?"
The boy in his arms hesitated, then gave a small nod.
Clark frowned. A five-year-old's world should be full of candy and rainbows, not this heavy stuff.
He remembered being that age—sure, his own special abilities caused trouble, but at least he had Dio.
"Hey," Saraphiel piped up, his little face serious. "Don't tell Dad, okay?"
"Keeping it from Uncle Locke again?"
"Dad'll worry," the boy said quietly, with a maturity beyond his years. "He's already tired from farm work."
"What about you?" Clark's heart tugged. He set Saraphiel down, crouching to meet his clear, confused eyes. "Doesn't it hurt to carry this all by yourself?"
"It's okay," Saraphiel said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "You said I'm special, right?"
He mimicked Clark's earlier comforting tone, but it only made Clark feel worse.
"And…" Saraphiel's eyes suddenly lit up, like he'd found the perfect proof. "You get all wobbly around Lana, but you guys get along fine, don't you?"
Clark groaned. "That's different."
"It's fine, I think," Saraphiel went on, his black eyes sparking with hope. "In time, everyone'll get used to me."
"Saraphiel…" Clark's voice caught, his chest tight with emotion.
The distant clanging of cowbells from the farm startled a flock of sparrows.
Watching them flutter into the sky, Clark made up his mind.
"Saraphiel, maybe…" He took a deep breath, fingers tightening on his backpack strap. "There's nothing wrong with you."
The boy blinked, puzzled.
"I promised Dio I'd keep it a secret," Clark said, looking away at a patch of trampled wildflowers. "But it's about Dio…"
He should've said it years ago.
Those wary glances, that cautious fear—it was never about sweet, innocent Saraphiel.
The sun dipped below the horizon, twilight wrapping the fields in a soft blue veil.
"You know," Clark said, twirling a blade of foxtail grass, "when you were just learning to walk, you loved this black-and-white dinosaur toy. Couldn't sleep without it."
Saraphiel shook his head, the little dragon embroidery on his sleeve swaying.
"One day, I took you out to play near the house," Clark continued, his voice tinged with regret. "I stepped away to help Grandpa Bob with some hay, and in that short time, some older kids pushed you into a mud puddle."
Crickets chirped under the barn as dusk settled.
"By the time I got back, it was too late." Clark gazed at the town's distant lights. "Dio must've been passing by."
He paused, the memory vivid. "He picked you up, wiped your face, and then took that muddy toy dinosaur…"
"And shoved it in the mouth of the kid who led the group."
Saraphiel's eyes widened. His polite, polished brother doing something that wild?
"The next day after school," Clark said with a wry smile, "Dio somehow rounded up every kid in town over five years old. Took 'em behind the old mill."
The evening breeze turned chilly, rustling the corn leaves.
"I don't know exactly what happened," Clark admitted. "But Pete, who happened to overhear while hiding in a haystack, said Dio stood there like some golden devil."
"He said one thing: 'Listen up. If I ever see my brother lose so much as a hair, I'll stuff every one of you into that rusty feed grinder at the mill, starting on the lowest setting. And I mean it.'"
"After that, Smallville's kids started giving you a wide berth."
Twilight fully cloaked the fields, the first star twinkling above.
Saraphiel stayed quiet for so long, Clark worried the town legend had scared him.
"So…" the boy finally said, his voice light as a feather, "they avoid me because…"
"They're not avoiding you because they hate you, Saraphiel," Clark said, pulling his brother close. "They're just terrified of Dio."
"Your brother built a wall around you no one dares to cross."
Saraphiel stood on the grass, the breeze tousling his soft black hair.
Clark watched him nervously, ready to comfort.
After all, who wouldn't be upset learning they'd been treated like a monster their whole life?
But the tears never came.
Instead, a spark lit up Saraphiel's eyes, growing into a radiant smile that cut through the dusk like a sunflower in bloom.
"So that's it," he said softly, his lips curving up uncontrollably.
It was like a heavy weight had lifted, his small frame practically bouncing with relief.
Clark blinked, stunned. "You're not mad?"
"Why would I be?" Saraphiel turned, his eyes shining with pure joy. "I thought Dio thought I was weird like everyone else…"
His voice bubbled with excitement. "But he's been protecting me all along!"
"Like a dragon guarding treasure, right? Even if his way's a bit… much."
Clark looked at his brother's glowing face and let out a relieved laugh.
What was he even worried about?
This was Saraphiel—the kid who'd cry over an injured bird, who'd share his snacks with stray cats. The kindest soul in Smallville.
"So, what's the plan?" Clark asked, ruffling his brother's hair. "Want me to talk to Dio?"
He was ready for a fight.
"No way!" Saraphiel shook his head, a sly glint in his eye. "This is mine and Dio's secret. And…" He made a zipping motion over his lips. "Don't tell Dio I know. It's our little secret now, the three of us!"
"You little sneak," Clark said, chuckling as he watched Saraphiel skip toward the house.
"Seriously," he muttered, shaking his head with a grin as he followed.
What was I even worried about?
"Oh, Saraphiel," Clark called.
"Yeah?"
"I'm heading into town later."
"Got a date?"
"What? No!"
"Oh, getting Dad a birthday present?"
"Not yet, Saraphiel. Harvest Fest is next week, Back-to-School Fest is the week after, and Uncle's birthday is the week after that."
"I'm going to town to check out where your brother's working."
"Oh, gotcha."
"But speaking of your brother, I know where he's working. He's at that Iceberg Club place."
"?!"