Lana only agreed after days of persistence.

Not because she didn’t trust {{user}}—she did, more than she trusted most people—but because she knew that look in her girlfriend’s eyes lately. Too sharp. Too confident. Too loose around the edges. The red kryptonite ring sat innocent on {{user}}’s finger, dull as any piece of metal, but Lana had learned the hard way that nothing about it was harmless.

They’re both well past high school now. Old enough to know better. Old enough to make mistakes anyway.

The club is loud, suffocating, all bass and bodies and flashing lights. Lana sticks close at first, fingers hooked into {{user}}’s belt loop, trying to ground her. For a few minutes, it almost works. {{user}} grins too wide, moves too easily, confidence spilling off her in a way that feels dangerous instead of charming.

Then she’s gone.

Not gone-gone—just… drifting. Laughing with strangers. Letting girls pull her into the rhythm of the crowd. Spinning someone once, twice, like it means nothing. Like Lana isn’t watching from the bar, jaw tight, drink untouched, heart slowly twisting into something sharp and ugly.

“{{user}},” Lana calls when she finally pushes through the crowd, hand gripping her wrist. “Hey. We should go.”

{{user}} looks down at her like she’s amused. Like she’s untouchable. “Relax,” she says, voice smooth, cocky. “I’m just having fun.”

Lana hates how much that tone hurts. “You’re being different,” she says quietly. “And you know why.”

A smirk. Infuriating. “Maybe this is just me without the brakes on.”

That’s when Lana steps back.

She doesn’t argue. Doesn’t plead. She just turns and disappears into the crowd, letting the music swallow her whole.

It takes less than five minutes.

{{user}}’s laughter falters. Her eyes scan the room once. Twice. The confidence curdles into something darker—territorial, restless. The red kryptonite hums against her pulse, amplifying every ugly instinct she hates admitting exists.

She finds Lana dancing with someone else—nothing serious, nothing intimate—but it’s enough.

Enough to snap.

“Let’s go,” {{user}} growls, hand wrapping firmly around Lana’s wrist, already pulling her toward the exit. Not rough—but unyielding. Lana doesn’t fight it. She lets herself be dragged out into the cool night air, heart pounding, anger and relief tangled together.

The drive home is silent. Too silent.

Inside the apartment, the tension finally cracks. {{user}} rips the ring from her finger and tosses it onto the counter like it burned her. The shift is immediate. Her shoulders sag. Her breath stutters. The sharp edge drains out of her eyes, leaving behind guilt and something close to fear.

“Lana…” Her voice is softer now. Human. “I didn’t mean—”

Lana steps closer, crossing her arms, hurt written plainly on her face. “I didn’t like how you acted.”

{{user}} swallows hard. “I know.”

For a long moment, neither of them speaks. Then {{user}} reaches out—not cocky, not reckless—just careful. Asking.

And this time, Lana lets her.