Clark helped his mom throw a small party when Lex first got his acceptance letter to Metropolis University. He bragged to all of his friends at school that his older brother was going to college on a full merit scholarship, he tagged along on all of the trips to pick up things for Lex's dorm, and he sat in the middle seat to be closer to his older brother for the whole trip up to drop Lex off at the school—something he hadn't done in a long time, now that he was eleven and Lex was eighteen.

It was quiet on the way back from Metropolis. Then it was quiet in the house.

Lex hadn't even talked all that much. But Clark talked to Lex constantly. Lex helped him with his school work, and their dad assigned chores to them out on the farm and gave instructions for how to divide up the work, or they all talked and laughed. Clark didn't really need instructions, and he wasn't in a joking mood, so they mostly worked in silence. Even at the dinner table, Clark felt too miserable about the empty seat across from him to make much conversation.

For the first few weeks of the school year, Lex called almost every day. Clark took to doing his homework right next to the phone and procrastinating on chores for as long as possible. Over time, though, the calls became fewer and further between.

Worse, Clark had to pick up extra chores because Lex was gone. His dad claimed that that wasn't the reason, that it was because Clark was older and had more command over his powers, so he could handle more responsibility.

"It's not fair," Clark whined. "I'm in middle school now, I have more homework."

"That's true. You're going to have to have better time management. It's part of growing up."

"I just have to do extra because you need more help."

"Well, you're not wrong, Clark. I do need you. That's part of being in a family."

Clark just groaned and cut as many corners on his chores as he could. A couple of times, his dad made him redo the work, but Clark refused to speak to him for the rest of the day when he did that.

It wasn't just the chores. Aside from having more homework now that he was in middle school, Clark's homework took longer than ever without Lex's help. He eventually started skipping it and lying to his parents when they asked if he'd finished his schoolwork. He hid his first quarter report card when it came out; he heard Lex had tried that once, and it hadn't worked out for him, but Lex didn't have powers. Clark had a much easier time sneaking it away.

One evening after dinner, Clark was sitting in front of the TV. He liked it there; it distracted him from the silence that always filled the house. When his mom called him over to help dry the dishes, he just didn't move. He pretended he didn't hear her, and turned up the TV a little louder.

He got unlucky. His dad came in right then.

"Clark, did you hear what your mother said?"

Clark groaned and turned down the TV a little. "That's Lex's chore. Why should I have to do it?"

"Because your mother asked you to. Why should she have to do it?"

Clark jumped up from his seat. Enough was enough. "Because you keep piling everything on me just because I have powers!"

Jonathan took a step closer. "That's not true, son—"

"I'm nothing but a piece of farming equipment to you. If I ran away, this whole farm would collapse."

"Your powers come with added responsibility."

"I didn't choose this!"

"Enough stalling, son. Go help your mother with the dishes."

"No."

"Clark, you're about three seconds away from being grounded."

Clark crossed his arms. "How are you gonna ground me? You can't stop me from going out."

His mom stormed into the living room. "Clark! How could you speak to your father like that?"

"Lay off, Mom, you're just as bad as he is."

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"Clark!" his dad yelled.

His mom came to put a hand on his shoulder. "Sweetie, I know this is about Lex—"

Clark pulled his arm away. "Oh, so you do remember him. Your other son. Who used to live here."

"Clark, we miss him, too. But—"

The phone rang, and it was silent.

Clark took a step toward the kitchen, but his dad barked, "Stop. Let your mother get it." Clark rolled his eyes and went back to sit on the couch.

Still fuming, he listened to his mom's side of the conversation. "Hello? . . . Hi, sweetie. How are you? . . . No, no, that's not important. I want to hear how things are for you . . . Ah, you know us too well . . . Yes, that's still going on . . . Well, we had a little miscommunication . . . I know, but— . . . No, I guess not . . . No, he hasn't . . . That's not your job, sweetie . . ." A much longer pause, and she sighed. "Okay. I'll go get him."

His mom came into the living room and handed him the phone. "It's your brother."

Clark's heart skipped. He didn't think about the fact that his mom might have been talking to Lex about what had been happening at home, but now he could explain what was going on. Lex would understand. He'd tell Mom and Dad they were being unreasonable.

Clark put the phone to his ear. "Lex?"

"Who the hell do you think you are, Clark?"

"W-what?"

"You're the son of Jonathan and Martha Kent. They raised you and they took care of you, they fed you and housed you all these years, and for a little while, I had the privilege of living with you. And for the immense price of sharing your parents with me, you got a little of my help with chores and homework. And now I'm gone, and for some God-forsaken reason they actually miss me and they're hurting, and you're treat them like this?"

"It's not like that, Lex! They're making me do all this extra work!"

"Our father works his fingers down to the bone for us. You should have been doing extra work all this time. And what do you have to complain about, Clark? You can use your powers."

"Not for everything," Clark mumbled. "It takes a lot of time."

"What's so damn important that you can't spare a little extra time to help your family?"

Clark glanced up at the TV, which was still going, although quietly. His stomach turned. He suddenly couldn't remember what his aversion had been to helping his dad pick up the slack.

"And what's this about not doing your homework? What the hell, Clark?"

Clark swallowed—he didn't know his parents knew about that. "It's really hard, and you're not here to help me."

"Then go to the tutoring center in the library after school! It's not that complicated!"

"But I miss you."

"I miss you too, I think about you all the time, but you know what? I still do my damn homework."

Clark flinched. "I'm sorry, Lex, I—"

"Oh, another thing. You've been giving Dad the silent treatment for making you redo chores when you're the one who messed them up in the first place?"

"Ah . . ." Clark winced.

"What are you thinking, Clark?"

"I just . . ." He was breathing in to say it wasn't fair, but he suddenly didn't feel like he had a leg to stand on. His hand holding the phone was shaking.

"Mom and Dad love you. You think they pester you to do your homework because it's fun for them? No, they want to do what's best for you, they want you to have the best you can and be the best you can, and you're treating them like crap for caring about you."

"I'm sorry!" His voice cracked.

"Don't apologize to me, Clark, apologize to Mom and Dad. Go beg for their forgiveness, because God knows, they'll give it to you. But you know what, if they want to punish you, you're gonna let them. You're not gonna make snide remarks about how they can't stop you from going out. You're not gonna whine about the extra chores, and you're not gonna argue if they ground you. You're gonna take it, because they love you, and I would have given anything, absolutely anything for someone to care about me that much when I was your age!"

Clark's eyes stung and overflowed. The past few weeks were coming back to him; he'd been absolutely horrible.

"You're lucky they don't lock you in a room with meteor rocks. That's what Lionel would have done to you if you were his kid. You know what he would have done to me if I showed him the kind of disrespect you're showing Mom and Dad? He would have locked me in a dark closet and made me kneel on uncooked rice for as long as it took to make me start to bleed, and then he wouldn't speak to me for a week after he let me out—"

Clark couldn't hear any of the rest of it. He was shaking with sobs. Slowly, he took the phone away from his ear and hung his head, tears pouring down his face.

His mom took the phone away from him. "Lex? Lex, baby, stop. Stop . . . Sweetie, he's crying . . . Yeah . . . I know you didn't mean to, but— . . . Yeah, I know . . . I know . . . I miss you, too . . . Okay, I will . . . I will, Lex . . . We love you, too. Bye."

Clark wrapped his arms around himself, trembling, and managed to choke out, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry . . ."

His mom's soft hug enveloped him, then his father's strong arms wrapped around both of them from the other side. "Okay, son," his dad said gently. "Sh, sh. You're okay."

Clark still couldn't stop crying. "I—I really miss h-him."

"I know, baby," his mom said. "We miss him, too."

When Clark could catch his breath, he pulled away, wiped at his eyes, and sniffed. "Am I grounded?"

His mom looked up at his dad, who shook his head. "Not exactly, son. But we're going to need to tighten the rules a little until you get your grades back up."

Clark nodded. "I'm sorry."

His dad squeezed his shoulder. "We forgive you."

Another set of tears rolled down his cheeks. "Mom, c-can I help you with the dishes?"

"Tomorrow," she said. "Your brother wants you to call him back."

Clark nodded and walked back into the kitchen to pick up the phone.

Lex picked up after one ring. "Hi."

"Hey."

Silence for a long time.

"I'm sorry, Clark, I—"

"No, I'm sorry. Thank you, Lex."

"It was too much."

"No, it wasn't."

Silence again.

"I love you, little brother."

The room grew blurry once more, and Clark smiled. "I love you too, Lex."