That very night, the storm arrived without warning.
Rain poured down in torrents, battering the Parker house windows like a frenzy. Thunder exploded in the ears of anyone still awake, and every flash of lightning lit up the boys' room as bright as day.
Peter spent the entire night trapped in nightmares, his head soaked with sweat.
One moment, he dreamed that his parents' car was swallowed by a gigantic whale. The next, he was falling into a bottomless ocean abyss. Curled tightly under his blanket, his small body trembled uncontrollably.
Clark lay in the bed beside him.
He wasn't asleep—couldn't sleep, even if he tried.
He could hear every twitch Peter made, and of course, the fragmented, fear-filled murmurs spilling out from his dreams.
He knew what this was.
The beginning of post-traumatic stress.
If left unchecked, that fear would take root in Peter's subconscious and follow him for the rest of his life.
Clark quietly climbed out of bed.
He walked over to Peter's bedside, looking at the tear-streaked little face, his heart filled with tenderness.
He thought of his previous life.
Back when he had been just an ordinary boy, he too had spent sleepless nights after his family fell apart. Back then, how desperately he had wished for someone to sit by his bed and tell him, "Everything will pass."
But no one ever did.
Now, he had become that "someone."
Clark didn't wake Peter—he knew that forcibly pulling someone out of a nightmare would only make the fear worse.
Instead, he reached out and gently took Peter's small hand.
Then, he attempted something he had never tried before.
He focused his mind, guiding the energy within him—the warmth born of his Kryptonian bloodline, nourished by the yellow sun. Slowly, carefully, like a faint stream, he let it flow through their joined hands into Peter's body.
The energy was warm, calm—carrying the scent of sunlight.
It couldn't heal illness or grant power.
But it could soothe the fear in Peter's heart and steady his nerves.
Through Clark's senses, he could feel Peter's racing heartbeat gradually slow. The tight furrow in his brow relaxed. His breathing steadied. The frightened cries for his parents faded away.
Peter turned over, and the corners of his lips even lifted slightly—
as if he had entered a gentle, happy dream, escaping the nightmare entirely.
Clark let out a quiet sigh of relief and withdrew his hand.
Just as he was about to return to bed—
something unexpected happened.
Perhaps it was the mental strain from focusing so intensely, leaving him momentarily weak. Or perhaps it was the deafening thunder outside that distracted him.
As he turned, Clark accidentally bumped into the bedside table.
The camera Richard had left for Peter sat right at the edge.
With a sharp clatter, it slipped and fell toward the wooden floor.
Clark's heart lurched.
He knew how important that camera was—it was the last thing Peter had from his parents.
His body reacted faster than his mind.
In that split second, Clark made an astonishing move.
He didn't reach out to catch it.
Instead, he gently exhaled toward the falling camera.
That wasn't ordinary breath.
It was the first time he had used super-breath.
Though it was far from freezing anything, the strength and precision of that airflow were under his control.
A soft yet powerful cushion of air formed beneath the camera.
Just less than a centimeter from the floor—
it stopped.
Defying all laws of physics, it hovered there, suspended in midair.
Then, like a feather, it was lifted by the current and slowly drifted back into Clark's outstretched palm.
Not a single sound was made.
Holding the recovered camera, Clark's heart pounded wildly. Seeing it unharmed, a cold sweat broke across his back.
He had almost destroyed the most precious thing his brother had.
Carefully, he placed the camera deeper onto the bedside table, making sure it wouldn't fall again—
then quickly retreated to his bed.
Outside, the thunder still roared.
And inside that very camera—
within its sturdy casing, hidden in a tiny film compartment—
lay the entirety of Richard Parker's life's work:
a new formula for the Super Soldier Serum,
and a secret list marked:
"HYDRA agents infiltrating S.H.I.E.L.D."
---
A month after the Parkers left, no one in the house brought them up anymore.
They were afraid Peter might connect the dots.
And yet, sometimes at the dinner table, an extra pair of utensils would appear—placed there unconsciously by May. She would always realize a second later and hurriedly take them away.
Ben, meanwhile, occasionally tried to inquire at the newspaper, searching for any trace that his brother might still be alive.
Peter, too, always carried the camera with him.
But he was no longer as cheerful or lively as before.
Clark spent his time reading and studying—
and quietly thinking of a way to guide Peter back to himself.
Because simple comfort and companionship weren't enough.
Peter needed an outlet—
something that could ignite his passion and help him forget his grief.
And it had to be something Peter discovered on his own.
Clark only needed to guide him there.
---
One Saturday afternoon, Clark "accidentally" knocked over a small box in the attic.
Out spilled a pile of books he used to enjoy—comics like Superman and Batman.
But those weren't the point.
The real focus was the stack of science magazines mixed in.
This was a rather clumsy plan devised by Clark's "super-brain."
Putting on a not-so-convincing performance, Clark looked at the mess and said in an exaggeratedly troubled tone:
"Oh no… this is terrible. If Mom sees this, she's definitely going to kick my butt."
Right on cue, the intended participant in the plan—Peter—walked over.
Clark grinned inwardly.
"Hey, Peter, can you help me out?"
Peter didn't hesitate. He nodded and started helping clean up.
The two of them worked together in the attic. Clark pretended to read a Superman comic while deliberately leaving the science magazines on Peter's side, making them easy to notice.
Peter spotted one.
The title caught his eye immediately:
What's in the Universe?
He opened it carefully.
Inside were descriptions of constellations, galaxies, black holes, and planets—accompanied by stunning images captured by the Hubble Space Telescope.
"This is… the Andromeda Galaxy," Peter read softly, pointing at a page.
For the first time in a long while, light returned to his eyes—
pure curiosity, and a thirst for knowledge.
"Yeah, pretty cool, right?" Clark leaned closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. "You know, Uncle Ben says every star in the sky might be a star like our Sun. And around them… there could be planets like Earth."
Clark paused, his voice growing softer.
"He says maybe… the people we love haven't really left us. Maybe they've just gone to another star, watching us from very, very far away."
---
After that, everyone in the house noticed that Peter had developed an interest in astronomy.
One evening, Ben brought home a brand-new telescope, letting Peter gaze at the distant stars.
Sometimes, Peter would excitedly share what he saw with Clark and the others, describing the stars in vivid detail.
Clark would smile and nod.
His eyes didn't even need a telescope—he could already see far more, and as he grew older, as he absorbed more sunlight, his abilities would only become stronger.
The universe in his vision was ten thousand times more magnificent than anything Peter could see through a telescope.
But he never showed it.
He simply listened patiently as Peter described those celestial bodies in his childish voice—things Clark already knew by heart.
From time to time, he would even ask a "silly" question, giving Peter the chance to puff up proudly like a little teacher and explain it to him.
And on those nights beneath the stars—
Peter gradually began to talk more.
And slowly, his smile returned.