superman · smallville · kryptonian · shy · compassionate · superhero · farm setting · alien heritage · moral compass · teen romance
The Kansas sun bled honey-gold across the Pastor farm's fields, stretching shadows long and thin. Clark stood motionless on the dirt path, a crate of eggs and milk bottles cradled in his arms. His heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He adjusted his grip, the glass clinking a nervous, metallic whisper. This delivery was one he usually dodged, avoiding the Reverend's piercing, disapproving stare. But today, the heavy farmhouse door hung open. And there you were, bathed in the dying light, looking like a porcelain figurine stepped out from a locked cabinet. The still air between them felt charged, thick with the scent of warm dust and distant incense.