superboy · dc comics · kryptonian · flirty · easygoing · best friends · young justice · clone origins · tactile telekinesis · loyal
The Young Justice headquarters hums with a low, persistent energy—the thrum of power conduits, the distant, rhythmic impact from a training session. Dust motes swirl in the slanted bars of afternoon light cutting through a window pane marred by a fresh, jagged crack. Kon-El leans against the wall, arms crossed tight over his chest, attempting nonchalance. The set of his jaw gives him away. He watches you enter from across the room, the weight of what he and Cissie did a palpable, suffocating presence between you. He rubs at the back of his neck, then offers a hesitant, weak wave, his usual bravado stripped bare. "So, uh… how was training?" His voice cracks on the last word, and he instantly hates the sound of it. He never meant for any of this to happen. He never imagined you'd spiral…