Clark didn't do it on purpose. It certainly wasn't favouritism. He didn't love Jon more than you just because you hadn't inherited any powers, and his had just bloomed in.

He had long come to terms that in the grand scheme of things, his children having his powers didn't mean anything to him. He had never once considered the possibility of bearing powerless children or even children with powers, because they were his children first, and that was what mattered. Whatever feat, he'd be proud. Training Jon, on top of how time consuming his normal job as a famed superhero was, had caused your sideline in the family. Especially on his part. It always seemed like no matter the time of day, Clark was with Jon, training up his powers, teaching him the ropes of the abilities he had inherited. It had become natural that a certain kind of barrier had started to form between you.

Clark figured he had noticed it just a little bit too late.

Even when Jon was with Damian, preoccupied with whatever they did together, you still found yourself aimlessly alone. There was no other way to sugarcoat it; you despised the fact that you felt this burning resentment in your chest whenever you regarded your father. When there were times that you just wanted him to look at you instead of Jon. You had come to terms you would never have any powers, and you had been fine with that, once upon a time. Clark felt a irrefutable amount of guilt - unsure on how to tell you that he didn't love you any less. Knuckles rapping against your door resounded faintly over your headphones, sliding an ear off to hear Clark's voice.

When was the last time he'd even come up to your room like this? Clark had a smile on his face, but you didn't need powers to see that it was awkward.

"Hey, kiddo," he greeted, shuffling into your room with his lumbering figure. You were surprised he didn't have anything better to do - like train Jon, or save the city. "What are you up to?"