Page 19 of Saving Little Clark

"You know," I said, leaning forward with a conspiratorial smile. "I'm loving these concepts so far, but I think we could all use a little break to recharge the creative batteries. What do you say we take a walk in the park across the street, clear our heads a bit?"

Clark's eyes lit up at the suggestion, but Alex hesitated, a faint blush staining his cheeks. "Actually, I was thinking of swinging by the office to check in with Will," he said, studiously avoiding my gaze. "You said the two of you worked together? I need to go over some ideas with him."

I bit back a knowing grin. It didn't take a genius to see that Alex's interest had nothing to do with work.

"No problem," I said, waving him off. "You go ahead and take care of that. Clark and I can handle the park recon mission on our own."

Clark shot me a surprised look, but he didn't protest as Alex gathered up his things and headed out with a jaunty salute. And then it was just the two of us.

As we made our way to the park in the bright afternoon sunlight, I felt a subtle shift in Clark's energy. His shoulders loosened, his steps becoming bouncier and carefree. When he spoke, his voice took on a slightly higher, more childlike cadence.

"I love this park," he said, swinging our joined hands between us. "It always makes me feel like I'm in a storybook, you know? Like any minute, a fairy's gonna pop out from behind a tree and grant me a wish."

I chuckled, enchanted by his whimsy. "Oh yeah? And what would you wish for, if you could have anything in the world?"

Clark scrunched up his face in an exaggerated expression of deep thought. "Probably an endless supply of crayons that never break or get worn down. Oh, and a treehouse with a slide and a secret password to get in!"

My heart melted like a popsicle in July. This sweet, silly, utterly guileless man really was a boy at heart.

As we approached an ice cream cart near the edge of the park, an idea began to take shape in my mind. A way to show Clark that I saw him, all of him, and that I cherished every quirky, colorful inch.

"Hey," I said, tugging gently on his hand to get his attention. "What do you say we take a little detour? I don't know about you, but I could really go for a scoop right about now."

Clark's face lit up like a Christmas tree, his eyes widening with delight. "Really? You want to get ice cream with me?"

"Of course,” I said softly, reaching out to boop him gently on the nose. "I want to do all sorts of things with you. Starting with spoiling you rotten with all the sprinkles and fudge sauce your heart desires."

Clark giggled as I led him over to the cart, squeezing my hand tighter and leaning into my side.

As we perused the flavor options, I watched with fond amusement as Clark agonized over the choices, his brow furrowed in intense concentration. Finally, he pointed to a neon-blue concoction studded with rainbow sprinkles and gummy bears.

"That one," he said decisively. "It looks like a unicorn threw up in a blender, and I am here for it."

As we walked away with our cones, Clark was already slurping happily at his kaleidoscopic treat. He turned to me with ice cream smeared across his cheek and a beam brighter than the summer sun. I reached out and thumbed away the sticky blue mess, my heart stuttering at the way he leaned into my touch like a kitten seeking affection.

As we settled onto a nearby park bench, our ice cream cones in hand, I found myself wanting to know everything about Clark.

"Wait, you're telling me you've never seenThe Iron Giant?" Clark gasped, his eyes wide with disbelief. "I hereby declare a mandatory movie night, where I will educate you on the wonders of animated cinema.”

"I don’t know, Clark," I teased, arching an eyebrow at him. "Are you sure it's appropriate for an employee to be bossing around his supervisor like this? I might have to file a complaint with HR."

Clark's cheeks flushed pink, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. "Oh, I bet I could persuade them to let it slide, just this once."

He fluttered his lashes at me exaggeratedly, and I burst out laughing. As we talked and joked, the conversation gradually drifted into more personal territory.

"I've had this ratty old stuffed rabbit since I was three," he confessed. "His name is Mr. Hoppity, and he's been with me through everything. My first day of school, my parents' divorce, coming out to my family. Whenever things get tough, I know I can always count on him to make me feel safe and loved."

My heart clenched at the vulnerability in his voice, the way his fingers twisted anxiously in his lap. I could tell that sharing this part of himself wasn't easy for him, that he was waiting for me to judge him for his childlike attachments.

But all I felt was a fierce surge of protectiveness.

"I think that's wonderful," I said softly, reaching out to cover his hand with my own. "Everyone needs something to hold onto when the world gets too big and scary. There's no shame infinding comfort where you can, whether it's a stuffed animal or a favorite blanket or a silly cartoon marathon."

Clark's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise and gratitude passing over his face. "You don't think it's weird? That I still have a nightlight and a security blanket at my age?"

"Not at all," I assured him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I think it's brave, actually. It takes a lot of courage to hold onto the things that make you feel safe and happy, even when society tells you you're supposed to outgrow them."

Clark's shoulders relaxed, a small, relieved smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

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