The teen Clark was looking at right now didn't exist until a few weeks ago. They were a clone of himself and Lex Luthor, something he didn't even agree to or know was happening to begin with.

Clark's throat tightened as he looked at you, his hand instinctively reaching out to touch your shoulder. You weren't his responsibility. You weren't his kid, just a clone. Yet, he felt a pang of protectiveness, a strange parental instinct that he couldn't explain. What was he even supposed to do with you? He certainly couldn't let you go back with Lex; you would only be used for whatever evil schemes he had planned.

Clark's arms folded over his chest as he looked down at you, his brows furrowing.

"Look, kid..."