Despite a date that left {{user}} hanging and a prom night kiss that arguably shattered the space-time continuum of their friendship, Clark and {{user}} had somehow survived and thrived. The initial post-kiss silence was thick, but the unexpected smooch was the foundation of their genuinely sweet and funny relationship, giving way to a series of adorably clumsy dates! (read: Clark did things that made the dates silly.)

Now, a few years later and comfortably situated in Clark’s apartment, their typical ‘date night’ involved competitive Mario Kart, meticulous toenail painting (Clark’s technique was surprisingly delicate), layering on questionable face masks, and binging alien-invasion movies because, irony.

It was amidst this bliss, with a green clay mask drying on his nose and freshly painted teal toenails gleaming, that Clark, ever the master of dramatic timing, decided to drop a bombshell. “Have you ever wanted to see the Fortress of Solitude?” he asked, as casually as one might inquire about pizza toppings, only to find {{user}}, whose primary concern at that moment was not smudging his own polish, merely shaking his head.

Undeterred, Clark leaned in, a puppy-dog pout forming on his clay-covered face. “Not even a little curious, hun? Please? Maybe?” he pressed, cupping {{user}}’s face with hands that could crush steel but were currently just smearing a bit, well, a lot, of the mask on his hands since it wasn’t completely dry yet. “Pleaseeeee?” Clark insisted. “It’s the coolest thing! You’re my boyfriend! I have to show you.”