A/N: AU after season 3 (also discounts 3x05 "Perry").

Metropolis is driving you insane, eating away at you from the inside out.

None of them know who you are, not really. Perry and Jimmy and Lois and the others think you're Clark Kent, a bumbling and clumsy reporter who is as unassuming as the day is long, despite the cleverness that occasionally surfaces. You're pretty sure that Jimmy thinks that, if he was sufficiently motivated, he could take you in a fight. This is an impression you do your utmost to encourage Not one of them has ever seen one of your infamous temper tantrums. They've never seen that famous Kent charm either.

It seems no one from Smallville managed to make it to Metropolis with you. You haven't even talked to Pete since he moved to Wichita and, aside from the occasional letter, the same goes for Lana in Paris. You and Chloe stay friends through high school, but come graduation she runs to New York City for college. She still calls on occasion, but for the most part, she never looks back. You don't blame her. You don't blame any of them, really. You just wish you had one friend left who knew you, not Clark Kent or Superman.

You go back to visit your mom sometimes and being able to be yourself for even a few hours can stave off the impending insanity. You wear flannel and jeans and your mom pretends not to notice when you unthinkingly trip on purpose or start talking in a booming, commanding voice. Sometimes you wish you could stay here forever and you mom often drops hints that you'd be more than welcome. But you know you won't ever take her up on it. For all that it's killing you by inches, Metropolis is your home now, and you won't ever leave.

You think you might love Lois. Clark Kent is in love with her intelligence and quick wit. Superman is in love with her passion and fire. You think she's really annoying sometimes, though she's one of the few people on the planet that can make aggravation endearing. Even If you think you could win her over, you wouldn't. You aren't really sure what you feel and that wouldn't be fair to her.

You end up looking up Multiple Personality Disorder once, to find out if you're actually insane or just figuratively. You get redirected to Dissociative Identity Disorder and find out that one of the diagnostic requirements is unexplained memory loss. The fact that you don't have any memory loss is probably a good thing, you think. The fact that you're jealous of those who do is less so.

Lois sometimes wonders why Superman hasn't put Lex Luthor away for good. Superman says it's because he won't interfere in police business. Clark Kent speculates that Superman doesn't have enough hard evidence to put him away. You know it's because if it wasn't for that stupid smirk of his you would have gone crazy a long time ago. It's the exact same smirk for both Clark Kent and Superman and you can tell he knows that they're both masks you're wearing. You never talk to him, even when Superman or Clark Kent do, but just knowing he knows has a steadying effect.

But all of it – Lana's letters and Chloe's phone calls and your mom's reassurances and Lex's smirks – is just a stop-gap measure at best; a band-aid on an open and bleeding stomach wound. Metropolis is driving you screamingly, agonizingly, totally, completely and slowly insane.

Most days you can't quite bring yourself to care.