what's lost is found (in unexpected places) (джен)

He wraps a hand around the boy's too-skinny wrists, trying to be the softest handcuff he can be, desperate to stop him from hurting himself further. The boy throws himself against his grip so hard his bones creak as Clark rolls them over, trying to pin him down as gently as possible.
To Clark's horror, he can feel the harsh lumps of old breaks under the fragile skin where the boy has healed wrong.
"You're going to hurt yourself —" he says desperately.
The boy screams at him in answer, a single, wordless shriek of rage and fear.
The strength seems to leave him quickly. Clark's surprised he had this much to begin with. His voice dies off to a weak moan, and he slumps back against the floor, small, fragile chest heaving.
His blue eyes are unfocused.
His face is familiar.
 
Holy Server B@man Whumptober Day 2: [Bleeding Out]: "Clean yourself up. You're getting blood everywhere." | Dissociation