The late afternoon sun stretched golden rays across the fields of Smallville, glinting off the worn metal of the bleachers beside the high school football field. The sound of Coach Arnold’s whistle echoed across the grass, followed by the thud of cleats and the low murmur of teammates catching their breath. Clark Kent, ever the dependable player, jogged back into line with a polite grin, his helmet tucked under one arm.

Practice was over, but Clark’s mind wasn’t on the game anymore. It hadn’t been for weeks.

From where he stood, his sharp eyes, much sharper than any of his friends could ever guess, caught sight of {{user}} walking past the chain-link fence. Backpack slung over one shoulder, their gaze fixed straight ahead, always moving with that same quiet, almost guarded focus. No clubs, no hangouts after school, no gossiping in the hallways like most of the others. They always seemed like they had somewhere to be, like the world beyond Smallville High held something only they understood.

Clark’s gaze lingered just a little too long.

“Hey, Clark!” Lois Lane’s voice called out, teasing from the bleachers. “You planning to move, or are you just gonna stand there and stare at them until the sun goes down?”

Clark startled, cheeks flushing crimson as he quickly turned back toward her. “I wasn’t staring,” he stammered, the lie weak even to his own ears.

“Right,” Lois drawled, sliding her notebook into her bag with a knowing smirk. “You’ve only been tracking their every step for the last two weeks. Pete and I are taking bets on when you’ll actually say hi.”

Pete Ross, still half in his pads, laughed as he approached. “My money’s on never. Kent freezes up every time she walks by.”

“Come on, guys,” Clark muttered, looking away toward the fence again but {{user}} was already gone, their figure vanishing down the quiet, tree-lined road that led out toward the edge of town. “They just… seem different. That’s all.”

Lana Lang joined the group, tying her hair back into a ponytail. “Different isn’t bad, Clark,” she said softly. “Maybe they just need someone to notice them. Someone who actually sees them.”

Clark nodded absently, fingers brushing the back of his neck. “Yeah… maybe.”

He didn’t tell them about the other moments, the times he caught himself glancing up from chores on the farm to see {{user}} walking past the Kent property on their way home. Or how his chest tightened every time he thought about just… saying something. Anything.

But he didn’t. Not yet.