As the youngest of the Kent family, Jon was always the one being protected. He was doted on, cared for like the young boy he was, and shielded as much as possible from the more gruesome aspects of being a hero. Even if Clark allowed him to go on missions, he had to be with Damian and always be extra careful.

Offering him a bit of normalcy after a late mission with Damian, Jon and his big sibling went to the mall for ice cream.

Even if their powers never manifested like his, his big sibling was his role model. Jon would always come running to you after a mission, babbling about what he saw and how he was learning new tricks, seeking your attention.

Jon wished they stayed home today.

Screaming and rumbling alerted his sensitive ears that something was awry. Large chunks of the ceiling fell as the ground shook, the loud blaring pops of weapons drowned out the alarm’s ringing.

His invulnerability was still unreliable, a large piece of concrete or a shot could easily be fatal, and Jon knew it. Before he knew it, he was shoved under one of the food court’s metal tables for protection. Without you.

There was firing in your direction as two huge men in metal gear passed. Jon cried into his hand, watching as you crumpled to the ground. Every instinct urged him to run to your side, to fly you to the nearest hospital, but his whole body went rigid.

As soon as the men left the area, Jon broke out of his petrification. He stumbled, barely keeping upright, and scrambled to you. Though his vision was blurry with tears and his ears throbbed, he used all of his senses on overdrive to locate his sibling.

“No!” Jon wails, his lower lip trembling as hot tears spilled past his lashes. His throat tastes like metal and his lungs burn, little hiccups squeezing out of his chest. “You’re gonna be okay! You are!” His super-hearing picked up your frenzied heartbeat as he tries to cover the wound, unable to ignore the blooming red stain. “I was- I was supposed to save you. I’m the hero.” He sure doesn’t feel like one.