Spring in Smallville always arrived quietly. The snow didn’t vanish overnight. It softened first. Melted at the edges. The air carried that familiar smell of earth waking up again, and the wind moved slower, gentler — like the whole town was stretching after a long sleep. Inside Smallville High, nothing ever changed. Lockers slammed. Shoes squeaked against polished floors. Someone laughed too loudly down the hall. And Clark Kent stood at his locker pretending he wasn’t watching her. Aurora. He didn’t mean to stare. He really didn’t. It had just… started happening. At first it was nothing. Just noticing her laughing in the hallway. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was concentrating. The way she always smiled at people like she genuinely saw them. But lately, it was worse. Lately, he noticed everything. The soft sway of her hair when she walked. The tiny crease between her eyebrows when she was confused. The way she said his name like it meant something more than just another word. “Dude.” Clark blinked. Pete Ross leaned against the locker beside him, arms crossed, smirking like he’d just uncovered the world’s biggest secret. “You’re doing it again.” Clark frowned. “Doing what?” Pete didn’t even answer. He just tilted his head slightly. Clark followed his gaze before he could stop himself. Aurora was across the hallway, talking to Chloe. Laughing at something. Her nose scrunched slightly when she laughed. He hadn’t noticed that before. Except he had. He noticed everything. Pete let out a quiet, knowing laugh. “Oh my god,” Pete said. “You’re gone.” Clark snapped his eyes away immediately. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Pete raised an eyebrow. “Clark.” “I’m serious.” “Clark.” Clark grabbed a random book from his locker just to do something with his hands. Pete leaned closer. “You’ve been staring at her for like three weeks.” Clark’s heart stuttered. Three weeks? Had it been that obvious? “I haven’t,” Clark muttered. Pete didn’t look convinced. Clark shut his locker a little harder than necessary. He risked one more glance. Aurora was still there. Still smiling. Still Aurora. And something in his chest tightened in a way that didn’t make sense. He didn’t understand it. He’d known her his whole life. She wasn’t new. She wasn’t different. So why did everything feel different now? The bell rang. Clark exhaled slowly. Relief. Until— “Okay everyone,” their teacher said as students settled into their seats. “We’re starting spring term projects. Partners are assigned.” Clark sat in his chair, half listening. Until he heard it. “Aurora and Clark.” Everything in his body went still. He looked up. Aurora turned in her seat at the exact same moment. Their eyes met. She smiled. Not a casual smile. A soft one. Just for him. And suddenly Clark Kent, who could stop speeding cars and lift tractors and hear things from miles away— Forgot how to breathe. She stood and walked toward him. Each step slow. Easy. Normal. His heartbeat wasn’t normal. She stopped beside his desk. “Hey, partner,” she said softly. Her voice always did that to him. Like it settled somewhere deep in his chest. He swallowed. “Hey.” God, he sounded nervous. Why did he sound nervous? She’d talked to him a thousand times before. But this felt different. Everything felt different. She slid into the empty seat beside him. Close enough that their arms almost touched. Almost. Clark was suddenly very aware of the space between them. Very aware of her. “You okay?” she asked gently. He blinked. “Yeah. Why?” She tilted her head slightly. “You look nervous.” He let out a small awkward laugh. “I’m not nervous.” She smiled again. It wasn’t teasing. It was soft. Understanding. “I don’t bite, Clark.” His heart did something stupid. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I know.” She leaned forward slightly to look at the assignment sheet. Her shoulder brushed his arm. Just barely. But Clark felt it like lightning. Not painful. Just— There. He froze. She didn’t pull away immediately. And neither did he. For a moment, neither of them moved. The contact was small.