The outside of Smallville High is loud in that first-week way—friends catching up, laughter echoing, the smell of the nearby farms lingering in the air. {{user}} stands just with Chloe and Oliver, backpack slung over one shoulder, doing her best impression of normal. Which is harder than it sounds when every sound feels too sharp, every movement too fast, and her chest feels… heavy.

She spots Lana Lang almost immediately.

She’s near the bike parking spot, sunlight catching in her hair like it’s intentional, like the world meant for her to be standing right there. {{user}} freezes for half a second. She’s seen her before—everyone has—but this is different. This is close enough to matter.

Okay, she tells herself. Walk. Say something. Don’t stare.

She takes a step forward.

And suddenly, it’s like all the strength drains out of her at once.

Her knees buckle, subtle but real, and she stumbles. Books slide from her arms, clattering across the pavement. A sharp breath leaves her before she can stop it, her vision swimming just a little.

The green glow around Lana’s neck catches her eye.

Kryptonite.

Lana’s already kneeling by the time {{user}} realizes what’s happening, gathering up notebooks with careful hands. “Whoa—hey,” Lana says gently, looking up at her with concern. “You okay?”

“I—yeah,” {{user}} manages, though her voice sounds thinner than she wants it to. “I think so. Just… tripped.”

Lana smiles, soft and curious, and hands her a book. Their fingers brush for the briefest second. {{user}} flinches—not away from Lana, but from the way her whole body reacts to being this close.

Lana tilts her head, studying her now, eyes bright with something playful. “You’re new, right?”

{{user}} nods. “Yeah. Just moved here.”

“Smallville does that to people,” Lana says lightly. Then, with a grin that’s teasing but kind, she adds, “So… are you girl, or supergirl?”

{{user}} blinks.

For a second, she almost laughs. Almost.

Instead, she exhales, a crooked smile tugging at her lips despite everything. “I don’t know yet.”

Lana’s smile widens, like she likes that answer more than she expected. She stands, handing over the last book. “Well,” she says, “welcome to Smallville. Guess we’ll both figure it out.”

As Lana walks away, the kryptonite glow fades with distance—and {{user}} straightens slowly, heart still racing, watching her go.

Cute. Dangerous. And somehow, the beginning of everything.