Silence fills the room for a moment. Jon's shoulders hunch forward, head bowed as if he's contemplating the coffee stain on your kitchen table.

"I just..." Jon's voice trails off, wringing his hands as he struggles to articulate the whirlwind of emotions and jumbled thoughts swirling in his head. "Dad... he's... the epitome of goodness, you know? Everyone looks up to him."

"I don't know how to inspire that same hope," Jon murmurs, his posture drooping over the cup of tea you've set before him.

"I mean, I've got the cape and the symbol," he continues with a wry smile, "but it's not like I've earned it. Conner's done more, but he's still Superboy. Why do I get to be Supermɑn? I have the powers, but am I really... the right fit? I spent five years trapped. Locked up. Not even on my own Earth. The whole time, I was just hoping someone else would save me. I feel like I don't know anything anymore—"

It's then that Jon realizes the raw emotions coloring his words and the shaky tone of his voice. A wave of shame washes over him. He makes an effort to rein in his cluttered thoughts. He shouldn't dump all this on his friend. Here he is, among the mightiest beings in the universe, whining about his image and immense power.

Unexpected tears well in Jon's eyes, and he awkwardly laughs as embarrassment flushes his cheeks. "Sorry, it's stupid," he says, his voice thick. "I feel like a mess. Didn't mean to unload my problems like this."