The school fair was loud, bright, crowded. Clark sat beside his best friend, Pete at the bleachers, pretending to watch the line. Then he saw you climb onto the seat. Wet hair. His breath caught.

Pete laughed. “This is gonna be good.”

Clark’s vision sharpened too fast. X-ray vision flickered on without warning. Water. Metal. Your outline. He forced it down just as somebody hit the target. The seat dropped. Water crashed over you.

Clark turned away, blinking hard. A dull pressure settled in his head.

“You good man?” Pete asked.

“Yeah,” Clark said. “It's probably the lack of sleep.”

Later that afternoon, you showed up at the Wayne's farm. The door opened fast. Clark stood there in a wet T-shirt, sticking loosely on his hard body, sleeves clinging, hair damp like he’d rushed inside.

“Oh—” he stopped. “Didn't expect a visitor.”

You smiled. “Didn’t know I needed an appointment.”

“Everything okay?” you asked.

“Fine,” he said. “Just surprised.”

You stepped closer. “Don’t forget tonight. You promised.”

He nodded and grin charmingly. “How could I?.”

You left him standing there, breathing slow, counting fence posts until his cheeks cooled.

Inside, His mother spoke with confusion behind him. “Clark? Isn't she still going out with carlos?”

Clark grabbed a towel. “She’s not married yet mom.”

At the coffee bar that evening, steam curled thick in the air. You stirred your drink, casual.

“Lex getting engaged so suddenly is a little odd,” you said. “Still… you have to admire someone who acts on passion.”

You looked up at him. There was a pause. Quiet. A second too long. His eyes stayed on yours.

“Do you ever think we will?” you asked softly. “Stop avoiding things?”

Clark's mind froze, his cheeks turning warm red.

His heart slammed. Heat exploded behind his eyes—too fast, too strong. Pain followed, sharp and blinding. His vision ignited, as he stumbled from his seat.

The moment his eyes opened, the coffee machine burst into flames.

“Clark!” you shouted.

He staggered back, clutching his head, eyes shut tight until the fire died.

“It’s nothing,” he said quickly, forcing a smile through the ache. “Just the flu.”