Me too, Clark says, and it lands somewhere unexpected. It isn't that Bruce has never conceptualized the concept of Clark not wanting to be other. Loneliness is devastating. And who wants ultimate power? Truly? Who wants the burden of knowing every moment spent sleeping or having a bagel is a moment not spent on diverting a flood somewhere, or pulling someone out of a burning car? Bruce would crumble under that awareness. For whatever reason, he has not specifically imagined Clark articulating his own childhood, before. And it sounds so much like his own thoughts, back then, that he feels humbled, and a little foolish.

He squeezes the Kryptonian hand in his, which feels very human, and very not, and in every way acceptable. Does not echo, Me too, though he could. It'd just be more sad bullshit, and they've done enough of his sad bullshit for one day.

"I had thought," he begins, but doesn't finish. Footsteps over to that long railing, looking around in the broken-down atrium. Tries again: "I had worried, that you might not be comfortable with an attempt at something like that."

You know. Since shit can happen.