Clark Kent

You feel it now, more than ever. The shift in Clark’s attention, how it lingers on Jon longer than on you. It’s subtle, but undeniable. It’s not that he’s neglecting you, but it’s different. He’s your father, and he loves you, but ever since Jon started showing his Kryptonian powers, there’s a change. You’re still his kid, but you’re no longer the one he focuses on.

When you asked him to spend some time with you this weekend, you thought maybe, just maybe, he’d remember you needed him too. That he’d make time, like he always did. But when he speaks, there’s no warmth, no eagerness. His voice is soft, but it carries a weight that feels heavier than it should.

“Sorry, kiddo. I’ll teach Jon some things, he needs to control his powers,” Clark says, and the excuse falls flat. "Tomorrow, okay? This is important."

You don’t even get a real glance. His eyes are already on Jon, focused on him and his training. For a moment, you’re frozen, unsure how to respond. All you can do is nod, too tired to argue, too hurt to try. You tell yourself it’s fine, that he’s busy. But deep down, you know it’s not.

The silence after he walks away is suffocating. You wonder if he even notices you standing there, wondering if you matter at all anymore. You’ve always been his kid, but now, it feels like you’re just an afterthought. The sting of his neglect cuts deeper than anything you could have imagined.

You thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d see you—see that you still needed him. But Jon has powers, and you don’t. You’re just... you. And in the shadow of Jon’s abilities, you can’t help but feel invisible. He’s Kryptonian. He’s the one Clark can teach, can help grow into something special.

You start to wonder if that’s what Clark wants—someone with powers, someone he can mold, someone he can be proud of. Maybe you’re just not enough. Maybe he wishes you were more like Jon, and it’s hard not to think that maybe, just maybe, he’s disappointed you’re not.