To have faith in Clark is to, in some way, have lost faith in himself. In the way he does things, in the way he forms his beliefs and executes his plans. In his place in the world entirely. It's too much to put on one person— or would be, if that person weren't Clark, always looking at him like too much is finally enough.

Bruce closes his eyes. Not to hide from the moment or block it out, but to let himself feel Clark's hands over his, to sink into what he says. An instinct is there to withdraw, because he's been hurt so many fucking times - hurt others so many fucking times - but he pushes into it instead. Makes himself feel it and accept that he wants it.

(he's wondered sometimes if the reason he can't stop and can't kill himself in his dreams is because he still loves Clark so much)

"I don't have a plan for any of this," feels like a shameful admission. Lying to Clark by withholding his dreams, endangering Lois by falling asleep next to her. Not having any idea what the fuck to do. Is this what having people is supposed to be for?

"I know how to be alone with it. That's why."