Raw wounds with nerves exposed to air, that hadn't had a chance to scab over yet, much less heal. Separated from Clark, but profoundly and horrifyingly unsteady without him. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know how to be, and he sure as hell didn't know how to find his footing and his way back to anything like a comfort zone.

He pulled his clothes on slowly, only getting most of the way dressed, before detouring into the kitchen and filling to glasses with orange juice and carrying them back into the bedroom. He handed one to Clark before he sat cautiously down beside him, almost-but-not-quite touching and slowly drank.