"Yes, Clark. A sonic boom," Adrian said, his tone calm but edged like a blade. "I picked up the trick from a man in a red suit. Once you push past the sound barrier, the air itself becomes a weapon. It can disorient enemies, scatter them, or pin them down. Effective, isn't it?"
He stood over his brother, whose body was still sprawled in the dirt. His words dripped with sarcasm, though his gaze was steady, unflinching.
Clark pushed himself up, chest heaving. He clenched his fists, glaring at Adrian with a mix of anger and frustration. "Fine. You win. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"
Adrian didn't respond, but the faint curl of his lip was enough.
Clark shook his head, voice cracking with determination. "But I'm not canceling the party. Even if you lock me in the house, I won't do it."
His stubbornness rang through the night air.
"I'm sick of your lectures," Clark snapped, bitterness spilling out of him. "Stricter than Dad's, colder too. You stand there, acting like you're always right, like some prophet warning about doom, or the one who swoops in to clean up my mess afterward. Maybe you are right most of the time—but that's the problem, Adrian."
The words came out before Clark could stop them, his voice trembling with long-buried resentment. "You're supposed to be my younger brother, not my father. If you want me to treat you as family, then act like it. Otherwise? People aren't going to like you, Adrian. No one will."
The night fell silent. Even the rustle of the wind seemed to pause.
Adrian said nothing for several seconds, his expression unreadable. His eyes glinted faintly, more dangerous in their stillness than in any outburst.
Then, at last, he spoke. "Fine. You can have your party tonight. But Lex Luthor doesn't come. He's in too much trouble right now, and if you let him inside this house, it won't end well for you—or for anyone here."
Without waiting for an answer, Adrian turned and walked away, his back straight, movements precise.
Clark stood frozen. The weight of his own words struck him only after Adrian was gone. Regret flooded his chest. He had crossed a line, and he knew it.
His knuckles tightened, and with a burst of frustration, he drove his fist into the trunk of a nearby fir tree. The impact made the branches shake, sending a rain of leaves down around him. His anger turned quickly to guilt, leaving him feeling hollow.
"So you really told Adrian, 'no one will like you like that'?"
The voice came from behind him. Chloe Sullivan stood there, wide-eyed with disbelief, a cup of coffee in her hand.
Clark sighed, shoulders sagging. "Yeah. I didn't mean it… not like that."
Chloe winced. "Clark, that's brutal. That kind of line cuts deeper than anything. It's like telling someone they'll never belong, never be loved. That's the sort of thing you can't take back." She shook her head, taking a sip from her cup. "Honestly, I didn't think you had it in you."
"I didn't either," Clark admitted.
Pete Ross, standing beside Chloe, chimed in. "It doesn't sound like you, Clark. It sounds like anger talking. But maybe it's anger you've been holding in for a long time."
Clark ran a hand through his hair, his face drawn. "I don't know. It just… came out. And the second I said it, I regretted it. Now I don't even know how to apologize."
Chloe placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "That's the thing about words, Clark. The ones we regret most are usually the ones closest to the truth, at least in the moment. Lies bruise, but truth? Truth is the sharpest knife."
She glanced at him curiously. "So what now? You know why Adrian stopped you—it was about Lex. Are you still going to throw the party? Or cancel it?"
Clark hesitated. "Lex wants to move the party to his manor. I'm not sure if I should go. Adrian's convinced Lex is nothing but trouble right now."
Chloe raised her brows. "That's rich. You argue with him, but then you circle back to his opinion anyway." She shrugged lightly. "For what it's worth, I say go. Life in Smallville is already strange enough. Why not lean into it? Trouble makes for better stories."
Pete perked up, grinning as he pulled out his phone. "I'm in. I've always wanted to see the inside of the Luthor estate. It's legendary. I'll spread the word now—everyone's going to love this."
Clark's eyes widened. "Wait—Pete, don't—"
But Pete was already dialing, excitement radiating off him.
As Clark watched his friend quickly inform half the school about the change of venue, he couldn't help but sigh. Maybe Adrian had been right all along. If Pete was this eager, then the whole school would know within the hour.
A strange sense of relief crept into Clark's chest. At least the farm would be spared the chaos.
That night, the Kent farmhouse sat in quiet contrast to the glow of Luthor Manor in the distance.
Adrian sat in the living room, casually finishing off a slice of pizza with a bowl of broth at his side. The ringing of the phone cut through the silence.
He picked up, hearing his mother's warm voice on the other end.
"Martha Kent," she introduced herself with a laugh. She and Jonathan were on their long-awaited honeymoon in Metropolis, but even from miles away, she couldn't help worrying.
"Clark's not home, is he?" she asked.
Adrian's gaze flickered toward the distant lights of Luthor Manor. "No. He's at a party."
"Really? That's good. He's branching out, making friends." Martha's voice softened with approval. "And you, Adrian? You didn't go?"
"I don't care for parties," Adrian said simply, setting the pizza crust aside.
"Sometimes, you should try," Martha urged. "Your father surprised me once when he gave in and went to see Clark's game. Stubborn as he is, he still tried for us. Maybe you should, too."
Adrian smirked faintly, though she couldn't see it. "I know who I am, Mom. Don't worry about me."
They spoke for a few moments longer before Adrian hung up. He didn't dwell on her words.
Sliding the leftover pizza into the fridge, Adrian's thoughts were cut off by a sudden BOOM outside.
The sound of an explosion split the night.
And Adrian's eyes sharpened.
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