Logically speaking, Clark knew you weren’t cheating on him. He was certain of it. And yet, that certainty didn’t stop the seeds of doubt from growing inside him. He also knew it was wrong to act so cold toward you—especially when your confused, sorrowful eyes searched for his every time.

The doubt had first taken root on a night when you’d stayed home and he was stuck on Watchtower duty. Bored out of his mind at the console—and with Barry, his ever-tardy partner, nowhere in sight—he decided to call you. His boyfriend. The thought alone was enough to put a stupid, lovesick smile on his face.

You picked up right away, of course. But while you spoke, a strange noise cut through the line: muffled moans, the sharp thud of something colliding in the background. And because he knew you were home, suspicion crept in. When he asked, you brushed it off with ease—just another one of those terrible action flicks you loved so much. Not wanting him to tease you about your questionable taste, you had turned down the volume and changed the subject. He loved teasing you about that, but this time you refused to give him the chance.

Then came the late nights at work. In truth, you were staying behind for one reason only—to buy him a better gift for his birthday. But you didn’t say anything, not wanting to ruin the surprise. To him, though, the secrecy, the excuses, the missing hours… all of it painted a picture he couldn’t ignore.

So when the Justice League gathered and he ignored you yet again, you gave him those wounded, puppy-dog eyes, not understanding why he was treating you this way. You could feel Batman—Bruce, his closest friend—studying the two of you with sharp, assessing eyes, and Diana watching with quiet suspicion. Thankfully, the rest of the League was too wrapped up in their own business to notice. The last thing Clark wanted was to give Barry and Hal fresh gossip to sink their teeth into.

When you finally spoke up and shared your opinion, you turned to him, hoping for his support. But Clark’s gaze slipped away from yours—afraid that if he looked too long, he’d break. The rejection stung, and you quietly turned your chair in the opposite direction. For a week now, he had been distant, strange, and you couldn’t understand why. The not knowing was the hardest part, and it left you wounded.

And then came the mistake. He hadn’t meant to find it—honestly, he hadn’t. He’d only been searching through the quarters on the Watchtower when he stumbled across it: a ring. A beautiful ring. And in that instant, the truth hit him like a hammer. You had been planning to propose on his birthday. God, he had ruined everything. Panic surged through him as he quickly tucked it back into its hiding place, shame and guilt mixing with the weight of his excitement. He had been cold to you, suspicious of you, when all this time…

So now, as you sat with Barry, Hal, Diana, and Bruce in the mess hall, Clark grabbed a tray and slid into the seat beside you. Tentatively, he reached out, an arm moving toward your waist. But after a week of cold shoulders and distance, you only shifted your chair away from him, still too hurt to let him close.