It Was Just Me Overthinking It (3k)

A bar awash in neon and liquor, its lights flickering.

After running away from home, Clark staggered in like a walking corpse. Unable to accept reality, he wanted to get completely drunk and forget everything.

He had heard that once you got drunk, you could stop thinking about anything.

"You're only eighteen. State law says I can't sell you hard liquor."

The bartender glanced at Clark's ID, then looked up. "Want a beer?"

"Anything alcoholic will do."

Putting away his ID, the despondent Clark urged the bartender to bring it quickly.

Men and women danced wildly on the dance floor, while people in the booths excitedly played drinking games.

All the noise and excitement had nothing to do with him. Clark felt only loss and loneliness, like a lone wolf separated from its pack.

An indescribable pain filled his heart.

"Was it all fake?"

He recalled every moment he had spent with his parents and brother.

He had never truly belonged to that family. He did not even belong to the planet where he had grown up.

As a child, Clark had wondered why no one else could lift trucks, why people got hurt when they fell from a few stories up, and why his parents and brother were different from him. Now, he had his answer.

Because he had no blood relation to his father or brother at all.

"I'm just an alien monster my parents picked up."

At the dimly lit bar, Clark's eyes reddened as he stared blankly at the name Clark Kent on his ID.

His surname was not really Kent. Even his name should not have been in this form. He should have had some strange, tongue-twisting name to Earthlings.

Among the billions of people on Earth, not one was his kin. Not one place was his homeland...

"Why?"

Overwhelmed and emotionally unstable, Clark clenched his fists in resentment. Was this God's mockery of him?

Why was he not an Earthling? Why could he not be family, connected by blood to his parents and brother?

He wished everything his father had told him today was false. He wished that when he woke tomorrow morning, he could still taste his mother's carefully made apple pie, still ride the school bus to school with his brother while they bickered, then come home and help his father with chores on the farm. An ordinary yet fulfilling life.

"Why did my life have to be shattered so suddenly?"

After being told such terrible news, how could he return home and calmly accept his parents' love?

Lost and angry, Clark suddenly felt an urge to smash something with his fists and vent his frustration.

Just then.

"Clark!"

A hand landed on his shoulder.

"So it really is you."

Clark turned around. Whitney and several teammates stood there with beers in hand, wearing unfriendly smiles. Like Hounds spotting a weak rabbit, they vaguely surrounded him.

"Clark, why are you drinking alone?"

Whitney held a beer in one hand and draped the other around Clark's neck, acting intimate while secretly applying pressure.

"Whitney, don't bother me right now."

To his surprise, Clark, whose neck should have been painfully trapped, did not move at all. His body seemed forged from steel as he slapped Whitney's hand away.

Though someone had conveniently come to provoke him just when he wanted to destroy something, the future Superman, kind-hearted after more than a decade of Jonathan and his wife's good upbringing, forcibly restrained himself from striking back.

"I've got good news for you, Clark."

Whitney staggered from the blow, spilling beer onto the floor. Humiliated in front of everyone, he became furious.

"I've decided that you'll be this year's Scarecrow!"

He signaled for several football team members to put down their beers and prepared to drag Clark away by force.

"I said, don't mess with me!"

The bar's deafening rock music pierced his ears. Clark abruptly stood up and grabbed Whitney by the collar, anger blazing in his eyes as he nearly lost control and struck.

But suddenly, Whitney's collar was pulled open, revealing a familiar green crystal necklace.

Radiation from Kryptonite enveloped him.

"Ah..."

Clark's immense strength rapidly drained away. His face twisted in pain, and the veins on the hand closest to the Kryptonite bulged unnaturally and turned green, as if poisoned.

In the shifting light, Whitney failed to notice. He punched the weakened Clark to the floor, then contemptuously straightened his clothes.

"So what if I mess with you, Clark?"

He crouched down, grabbed Clark by the collar instead, and lowered his voice, jealousy and viciousness seeping through it.

"I noticed the way you look at my girlfriend a long time ago. I know exactly what you're thinking.

Who do you think she's dating?"

With the high school football championship approaching, Lana had given her boyfriend the meteorite crystal necklace she had worn since childhood. She wanted it to carry her feelings and bless him as he fought his way to victory, won the championship, and caught the attention of scouts.

Instead, it let Clark experience Kryptonite's power once again.

"You really want her necklace?"

Seeing Clark staring at the necklace around his neck in agony, Whitney assumed he was jealous and bitter. With a sneer, he hung the necklace around Clark's neck and viciously humiliated him.

"Then I'll give it to you. This is the closest you'll ever get to Lana."

"Take him away."

He stood and called to the football team members, who hauled up the increasingly pained Clark and took him out through the back door.

There were too many people here. Whitney planned to take Clark to a secluded cornfield and teach him a proper lesson.

"I'll make you learn to give up your delusions!"

Then, a voice devoid of emotion suddenly rang out.

"Where are you taking Clark, Whitney?"

"David?"

Seeing a figure slowly approach with both hands tucked into the pockets of a brown jacket, Whitney was briefly surprised before sneering.

"Since you came right to us, we'll take you too."

He would make Clark watch how his improper thoughts had dragged his own brother into this.

David's expression did not change, as though he had not heard what Whitney intended to do.

"David, run."

Held up awkwardly and too weak to even stand steadily, Clark endured the pain and shouted urgently, "You can't beat them."

Whitney's group had five people, every one of them a strong member of the school football team. He did not want to see his brother bullied.

Urgency from Clark +18, regret +13...

"I originally thought you might not be able to handle what happened today. That you might fall apart, go down another path, and bring trouble to the family."

Ignoring Whitney and the others, David looked at him, raised an eyebrow, and spoke slowly.

"Now it seems I was overthinking it, Clark."

Even against a few high schoolers with Kryptonite, he had somehow managed to suffer.

"Get him."

Unable to tolerate David's dismissive attitude any longer, Whitney grew angry.

"Show him what you can do."

Two tall, muscular football team members rushed in from both sides like wolves pouncing on prey, their fists flying.

The commotion by the bar finally drew some attention. Quite a few people looked over, clapping and cheering as they eagerly watched the show.

"Yeah, hit him!"

Fights were common in places like bars.

David stood where he was, casually swaying aside to dodge the first man's punch. Then he struck back with lightning speed.

Bang!

The football team member's eyes bulged, his face turning red like a boiled lobster. Clutching his stomach in agony, he dropped to his knees and spat out a mouthful of saliva.

The other man charged forward with his fist raised. David spun smoothly and drove an elbow backward. As though struck in the head by a baseball bat, the man uncontrollably plunged face-first to the floor and passed out.

"Oh!"

In less than two seconds, he had taken down two opponents. Several people in the bar widened their eyes in surprise, then applauded and shouted their approval.

"Beautiful!"

Was this young man some kind of professional fighter?

Shock from Clark +8, astonishment +9...

David ignored the emotional notifications he often skipped. Whitney stood frozen in place, staring in disbelief at his two fallen teammates.

"You..."

Clark was even more stunned. He had never known his brother had this side to him.

"Get him together."

Whitney and the two players who had thrown Clark to the ground rushed at David together.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

David's footwork floated as lightly as a butterfly. The three men failed to touch even a corner of his clothes, while his fists struck with the force of bee stings. With three easy, clean punches delivered as casually as if taking a stroll, he knocked them all down.

The three lay on the ground, bruised and battered.

"Impossible."

Whitney clutched his throbbing chest. It felt as though his ribs had been broken, yet he gritted his teeth, struggled back up, and charged David again.

He was just some guy who never dared participate in any school activities!

"Stay down, Whitney."

The moment he got up, David casually kicked him back down as though an adult bullying a child. He stepped over Whitney, who could no longer rise, and walked toward Clark.

"Whenever I use too much force, my skin color shows through.

But these people don't require strength beyond that of an ordinary person."

The bar patrons watching the spectacle all backed away when they saw him approach. Not wanting trouble, they cleared a path for him.

Could a retired Navy SEAL really be this formidable?

"Where did you learn to fight, Da... David?"

Prolonged exposure to Kryptonite could even endanger a Kryptonian's life. Blue-green veins bulged unnaturally from Clark's neck, and his face was pale as he endured the pain and asked in shock.

He had never known his brother possessed such formidable fighting skills.

"On TV."

David answered indifferently and tore the necklace from Clark's neck.

"On... TV?"

Clark had not expected that answer. Seeing that his brother was unharmed, he finally stopped forcing himself to hold on. His eyes rolled back, and he passed out.

David slipped the necklace into his pocket, easily hoisted the tall Clark over his shoulder, and turned to leave the bar. Everyone quickly made way for him.

Even though the fight had hurt business, the bar owner did not dare speak up and ask David to stay.

After walking some distance.

Under the cold moonlight, they reached an empty road.

Clark stirred groggily on David's shoulder. Realizing they were heading home, he began to struggle.

"Put me down, David. I don't want to go home!"

Something came up at home, so I'm short a thousand words. I'll make them up later.