[Third Person Pov]
Lala's legs instinctively curled around Clark's waist as their lips met in a fierce, breath-stealing kiss. Her soft weight pressed against him, her chest rising and falling in time with his hurried breathing. Clark's hands moved on their own—one supporting the curve of her lower back, the other steadying her hips as if afraid she might slip away.
With a gentle but decisive motion, Clark shifted their bodies and lowered her onto the mattress beneath them. The sheets rustled around them, the blanket shifting over their entangled forms. Lala's arms remained looped around his shoulders, her fingers lightly brushing against the back of his neck even as the sound of their lips meeting and parting echoed faintly in the quiet room.
When their mouths finally separated, both turned their faces slightly, their flushed cheeks brushing together as they struggled to catch their breath. Their breaths mingled—warm, uneven, laced with the dizzying rush of the moment.
Clark pushed himself up a little, bracing his palms on either side of her head. The blanket draped over them shifted, concealing most of their bodies except for the faint outline of their closeness beneath the dim light. Lala looked up at him with her cheeks tinted a vivid shade of pink, her expression soft, warm, almost glowing. Then she smiled—an earnest, tender smile that reached her eyes.
That smile made something inside Clark seize up. His muscles tightened for a moment, not from passion, but from a sudden, heavy weight settling in his chest. He swallowed hard. The emotion he felt wasn't desire—it was guilt.
Closing his eyes, Clark exhaled slowly, lowering his head. Lala expected another kiss, her breath hitching in anticipation—only to feel him tuck his head against the side of her neck and shoulder instead.
"…I'm sorry, Lala," Clark murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
"Eh?" Lala blinked, her eyebrows lifting in confusion. "What for? You didn't do anything wrong."
"For being a bastard," he said, arms tightening around her as he pulled her into a firm embrace. "And for what I was about to do a moment ago."
"I don't get it," Lala replied softly. Though bewildered, she slowly wrapped her arms around him in return, her hands sliding up his back as she absorbed the warmth of his skin.
"Your feelings for me…" Clark began, his voice gentle, but weighed down with emotion. "They're genuine. Pure. Honest. And mine… mine weren't. Not in that moment. I was seeing you as a way to satisfy myself, something to take out my lust on. That isn't fair to you."
Lala's lips parted, but he continued before she could speak.
"I said I didn't mind," she whispered eventually, resting her forehead against the side of his. "I already told you—if my body can make you hap—"
"Don't." Clark's voice came out firm but soft, his head shaking faintly. "Just… don't say that. You're a good person, Lala. You mess up sometimes, sure, but your heart's in the right place. You're always trying to help. Taking advantage of that—of you—would be wrong. It would disrespect you… and it would make me disrespect myself, too."
He hesitated, then added in a low, rueful voice, "I'm ashamed of myself. You look up to me—not just simply because I'm Superman, but because of who you think I am underneath all that. And I almost betrayed that belief. I almost proved you wrong."
Clark lifted his head slightly, his dark hair falling forward to shadow his eyes.
"You know," he continued, "one of the reasons I didn't want to be Superman at first was because I was terrified of the expectations that came with it. I hated the idea of pretending to be someone I'm not… of failing people who believed in me. The thought of disappointing them always made me anxious."
Lala froze beneath him, staring up at the man hovering over her. This was the most honest, the most unguarded she had ever seen him. Her heart thudded hard in her chest, her breath catching as she held his gaze.
"But maybe," Clark said softly, "maybe it isn't as terrible as I thought. Maybe living up to those expectations isn't a burden… not when they come from the right people."
He finally looked at her fully, and a faint, uncharacteristically charming smile curved his lips.
"Thank you for what you said earlier, Lala. 'Clark is Superman as much as Superman is Clark.' That's… one expectation I don't mind trying to live up to."
Lala slowly—almost timidly—lifted her hands toward Clark's face. Her movements were gentle, deliberate, as if she feared he might recoil. And for a split second, he did flinch when her fingertips brushed his cheek. But instead of withdrawing, Clark leaned subtly into her touch, his eyes falling shut for a heartbeat as he accepted the small gesture of affection.
"So," Clark murmured, his voice low and steady, "I'm sorry, Lala. But my feelings for you aren't the same as your feelings for me. And knowing that… I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if I crossed this line with you."
The words were calm, sincere—yet they hit Lala's chest like a quiet blow. Her lips parted, but no sound escaped at first. Of course it hurt. Part of her had known the truth already, but hearing Clark say it so plainly carved reality into something sharp. Still, she wasn't shattered. She wasn't empty. What had happened between them—those moments of closeness, that vulnerability—wasn't meaningless to her, and she doubted it was meaningless to him either.
And deep down, she had hoped—perhaps naïvely, perhaps foolishly—that if their bodies became close, their hearts might follow. That intimacy might become affection… affection might become love. But she understood now that forcing those steps, even with good intentions, would only twist things between them.
Even so… giving up? That was the last thing on her mind.
"It's okay, You don't have to apologize for something like that." Lala said softly, withdrawing her hand only to tap a finger against his nose. Her usual spark returned as she flashed him a mischievous, defiant grin that practically radiated charm.
Her aura of charm was practically divine. "But mark my words, Kal-El Clark Ayase… I will make you fall in love with me. One way or another, I'll make sure your feelings for me match mine—maybe even surpass them! And that's a promise."
A slow grin pulled at Clark's lips as he let out a scoff thick with mock arrogance. "Two words. Good luck."
He reached for the sheet beside them and pulled it over her like a flowing silk gown, making sure her body was covered before he sat back.
Lala's playful confidence faded into a comically exaggerated sulk. She turned her head away dramatically. "Just so you know, this is totally unfair. I was ready to give you my body and everything."
Clark let out a groan as he rolled his eyes with theatrical exasperation. "Ugh. Fine. You can keep sleeping with me."
Her head shot up instantly. "Really?!" Her smile was bright, warm, and bursting with excitement.
"Yeah," he replied with a confused blink. "Isn't that what you were going for?"
"I was going to suggest you take me on a date to make it up to me!" Lala said, flailing her arms slightly. "But this is so much better! No take-backsies!"
"A date?" Clark echoed, raising a brow.
"Yeah…" Lala admitted sheepishly, scratching her cheek as her gaze drifted off to the side. "Some of the girls in our class were talking about it. They asked if you'd ever taken me on a date, and… I realized I didn't have an answer."
Clark stared at her for a second. Then, with a casual shrug, said, "You know what? Sure… why not."
"Eh? Seriously?" Lala leaned back, eyes wide with disbelief as if waiting for him to shout Gotcha! at any moment.
But Clark just shrugged again. "I'm in a good mood and feeling charitable."
"Yes!!" Lala pumped her fist triumphantly, practically glowing.
Clark swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to bathe and get ready for school."
Lala raised her hand. "Can I join you?"
Her tone was half-teasing, half-hopeful.
Clark froze, gave her a blank stare, and deadpanned, "Don't push your luck."
"Aww…" Lala pouted, though a quiet giggle escaped her anyway.
Clark walked halfway across the room before pausing. He glanced back over his shoulder, an amused spark flickering in his eyes, "Well? Are you coming or not?"
Lala's entire face lit up like a sunrise. Hugging the scarlet blanket to her chest, she sprang to her feet. "Yay!"
She hopped across the bed, nearly tripping as she leapt off it, and scampered toward him with the blanket trailing behind her like a makeshift dress. Her tail swayed wildly—an unmistakable display of joy.
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