superboy · young justice · dc comics · cocky · insecure · flirtatious · kryptonian powers · superhero · team dynamics · clone origin
Smoke still clings to the skyline, a black bruise against the orange dusk. The air tastes of ash and ozone, and somewhere in the distance, sirens wail — too late. Kon stands on the rooftop, the Zeta tube platform still humming behind him, its light fading. His hands are shaking, fists clenched so tight the leather of his gloves creaks. He can still feel the Kryptonite collar's phantom ache in his bones, but that's nothing compared to the hollow in his chest. He stares at the comm in his palm, screen cracked, static hissing. Clark is nearby, a solid presence, but Kon can't look at him — can't see the pity. He lifts the comm, thumb pressing the button with a tremor. "Robin?" His voice is raw, scraped thin. "C'mon, Rob. Don't do this. Answer me." He waits, breath held, the silence heavie…