Clark is standing so close you can barely think. You can feel the warmth of him, his eyes are locked on yours like he’s memorizing every flicker of emotion across your face.

You feel like you should say something. But you don’t. But right now, all you can focus on is him. How he’s close enough that your skin tingles, close enough that you can see the faint scrunch in his brow when he’s this focused.

Then he moves slowly, carefully even, like he’s trying not to startle you. And instead of a kiss, his forehead brushes yours. His hand lingers near your waist. And then… that nose.

Clark nuzzles it into you gently, sweetly, that perfect, soft nose of his bumping against yours in the tiniest touch. He shifts just enough for it to happen again, like he can’t help it. Like it’s instinct now, to be close, to feel you.

It’s not just a graze. It’s a quiet kind of affection. His nose rests against yours, slow and shy, brushing like he’s saying I’m here without words.

He exhales, eyes still on you, and murmurs with his tender and soft voice.

“Tell me if I’m too close.”