O/A Summary : A look at how Clark becomes aware of his sexuality, progressing towards a final acceptance of his feelings for Lex- and when he finally gets there, will he have the courage to act on them?

Rating: Most will probably by PG-13, either for issues dealt with, language, and obviously mild sexual themes will come into it later.

Disclaimer: Smallville and its characters aren't mine. Not making any money. Just dealing with my own crazy issues yada yada yada.

Author's note : This will probably be a drawn-out project – I just thought I'd start posting parts up asap to get an idea of responses etc.

Home Truths – Prologue.

It was an evening that spoke of the beginning of summer. It was partly because the skies were clear, and the light was undoubtedly a bright refreshing yellow -cutting clear distinctions between the shadow and the light; a welcome change from the dreary grey tones under the overcast skies of winter. But most of all it was the breeze, bringing with it the teasing smell of the soil, the grass, of warmth.

  Clark didn't know why, but something about the evening light of this time year of year, the sun setting with a longer, slower golden glow than in the darker months,  filled him with an excruciatingly exquisite sadness….It was a feeling that had stayed with Clark since childhood, when at the back of  your mind, while you run, and play, running barefoot through the fields, you know that none of it can last. The summer always came to an end, and always far sooner than expected.

  It said something about your outlook on life, Clark thought, when even at tentative beginnings, you are already waiting for your happiness to come to an end.

  Yet another introspective observation, Clark.  He thought. I guess that's what all this comes down to.

  He tore his eyes away from the view of the sunset from his loft window, and back down to the blank pages of the book open on his lap. He was sprawled on his tattered couch – with his gangly form, he could hardly curl up, though he did allow himself the comfort of a light blanket draped over him. Certainly the evenings weren't quite warm enough yet to stay outdoors all night comfortably, but the cold could never bother this boy. No, the blanket was there for comfort, and admittedly, a sense of security, a reminder of when his mom used to gently cover him with it when he fell asleep on the porch on summer nights. Back when he was innocent, dreaming of nothing but paper moons and cardboard seas…

 But no more…no, things have got a lot more complicated haven't they?

 He swallowed hard, and  stared at the blank pages of the notebook that was soon to become the receptacle for all his fears and doubts, all the thoughts that had some time ago began to creep into his mind, 'till he was left with an aching tangled whirlpool of emotions and urges, shame and curiosity, hope and fear, that he had failed to acknowledge or express.

 Until today. Today, when he had seen the pile of empty black hardback notebooks gathering dust in the school storage closet, while he was searching for some paper for The Torch's printer.  Suddenly  he had  realised that he had a means of expression, he could write out all his thoughts and try and make sense of them by making them substantial, words on a page that he couldn't ignore, couldn't shy away from, and couldn't pretend had never existed.

  He had a diary now. He had a way to make all this tangible, to make him face up to it all.

 The question now was whether he had the courage to use it.

 Clark looked around the empty loft. His parents were spending the evening with old friends in Metropolis and wouldn't be back till the early hours of the morning. It was just him, alone in this environment he had created, and moulded around him over the years. His 'fortress of solitude'.

  He uncapped his pen, the sound of plastic on plastic as clearly audible as the soft rustle of his clothing as he settled himself into a comfortable position to write. He knew that once he started, he could never go back from what he'd written, and quite frankly, he was afraid of what thoughts would pass down his arm into that pen, and appear before him in ink, faster than his mind could try and censure it.

  No, I have to be honest. Completely and utterly. No holding back Clark – you've been doing that for a long long time. No more hiding from yourself.

He sighed. What the hell.  He applied the pen to the bleached white, faintly textured surface of the first blank page, and began to write.

 "My name is Clark Kent.  And I think I might be gay."