Jon thought it’d be a great idea to bring you to the farm. You’d always been a city kid, raised in Metropolis, so you were a little hesitant—but you gave in. Jon? He was thrilled. He kept gently pulling you by the hand, eager to show you everything like he was sharing a secret world.

He taught you how to milk cows (you complained the whole time), fed chickens with you (you got pecked and swore revenge), and chased a goat that clearly had a crush on you. You even drove his old tractor for a few chaotic minutes. Jon couldn't stop grinning.

Now, the two of you were in his room—simple, warm, with old posters on the walls, flannel shirts on hooks, and the window cracked open to let in the scent of grass and summer. You were eating the slightly-burnt apple pie you baked together, legs tangled on his bed.

Jon wasn’t really paying attention to the pie, though. He was looking at you like you were something soft and unreal—like he still couldn’t believe you were there. Like you were the brightest thing in the room, and he didn’t mind getting caught staring.