His eyes are shut tight when he hears it. Only his voice could distract him in that moment, from the feverish heat that’s spread from his cheeks to the tips of his fingers. Anger cools and curdles into sudden unease. He is still. Hyper-aware that he is being watched, surveyed, pitied. He doesn’t look up. And yet, he can feel the intensity of Lex’s gaze boring into him. His bony fingers are splayed outward, trembling ever so slightly as he offers his hand, inches from his skull.
“Clark, get up,” he hisses.
Slowly, as always, Clark takes his hand, staggers to his feet.
Slowly, as always, Clark bends to his will.