Clark can’t for the life of him figure out why people seem to think he likes you. You’re bossy, you’re stuck up… you’re rude. He can’t stand you.

You’re friends with his friends, and that’s the only reason he’s ever in your presence. He’ll swear that to hell and back if he has to — he’d be avoiding you like the plague if he could.

Being near you reminds him of the first time he was around kryptonite — his heart was pounding so much it hurt, and he could feel the strength being slowly sucked out from his body. You’re like a leech, sucking everything good and sweet out of him so that he looks like the bad guy every time he says he doesn’t like you when everyone else seems to love you.

He doesn’t. There’s nothing likeable about you at all. You drive him insane, it’s crazy. You never leave his damn mind. When he’s with you, he’s waiting for the chance to get away from you, but then he’s away from you and all he can think about is you. It’s maddening. He’s pretty sure he’s going to end up in a room with four padded walls soon — your fault.

It’s like you sensed his internal suffering, because of course he manages to bump into you when he’s running errands in town for the farm. He thinks, for a brief moment, that his heart flutters as his eyes land on you, but that’s gotta be some kind of mistake. Must be as close as a Kryptonian can be to a heart attack.

“I thought you were out of town until the end of the month.” Clark huffs, a frown tugging at his lips. He looks down at you, brows furrowing as he takes you in. “Well, I’d hoped, at least.”