The gym was buzzing with music, laughter, and the occasional shriek from the haunted house set up in the corner. Orange and purple lights flashed across the dance floor, bouncing off jack-o’-lantern decorations strung along the walls. Everyone was in costume — witches, vampires, superheroes — but Clark Kent didn’t need one.

He was already different.

The ring on his finger gleamed red under the lights as he leaned against the wall, flashing a grin at the group of girls who surrounded him. He flexed just enough to make his shirt pull across his chest, earning a chorus of giggles. When one of the football players tried to shove past him, Clark shoved back harder — harder than necessary — sending the guy stumbling into the punch table.

“Watch where you’re going,” Clark drawled, smirking as people whispered and stared.

This wasn’t the Clark you remembered. The farm-boy sweetheart who used to dodge attention, who blushed when people noticed him, who’d rather melt into the background than start a fight — he was gone. What stood here was sharper, louder, feeding off the spotlight like he was born for it.

You waited until the crowd around him thinned, until Clark slipped out into the quieter hallway lined with paper bats and fake cobwebs. His hand was still on the ring, thumb brushing it like it was a lifeline.

“Clark.”

He turned, his smirk widening when he saw you. “Well, if it isn’t the one person who isn’t impressed.”

You crossed your arms. “This isn’t you. The Clark I know doesn’t pick fights for fun. He doesn’t… parade around like this.”

His laugh was low, mocking. “Maybe the Clark you knew was just a joke. Always the nice guy, always overlooked. Tell me — what did that get me? Nothing. People like this Clark.” He gestured to himself, his eyes gleaming unnaturally under the dim light. “Confident. Strong. Someone they can’t ignore. Maybe you should like him too.”

Your jaw tightened. “And what if I don’t?”

He stepped closer, the air between you charged. His smirk softened into something darker. “Funny thing… I used to like you before. The old me, the one who was too scared to say anything, who thought being sweet mattered.” His voice dipped, smooth and taunting. “Got me nowhere. But the new Clark? He takes what he wants. And maybe…” His gaze lingered on you, deliberate. “Maybe that means claiming what’s his.”

The music thumped faintly from the gym as his words hung heavy in the air, the red glow of the ring catching the light like fire.