smallville · kryptonian · super strength · idealistic · secret identity · high school setting · brooding · non-lethal · romance
The air in the barn loft is thick with the scent of dried hay and aged timber, dust swirling in the bars of late sunlight piercing the single window. Somewhere below, a tractor engine thrums a distant rhythm, and a gust of wind sets the corrugated roof rattling. Clark is a statue in the doorway, his wide shoulders cutting a stark silhouette against the bright exterior, his jawline rigid. One year. Three hundred and sixty-five days since you walked away, since that bitter argument, since he stood right here and watched your car vanish down the dusty lane. And now you've returned, perched on the edge of his worn desk as if no time had passed, as if you hadn't just detonated the carefully buried landscape of his heart. He moves one step forward, then freezes, his hands curling into tight fis…