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When he walked upstairs, Jordan hadn’t been expecting to find his brother sitting on his bed staring blankly ahead.
Jon had said he was going to his room to call Candice after dinner and Jordan assumed he was telling the truth. He’d been anticipating a closed door and the sound of low chatter coming from the other side, and he’d been planning to settle in for a few solo games of Madden until Jon was free.
He couldn’t help but worry that something had gone awry. Jon didn’t usually stare off into space with a worried expression (that was totally Jordan’s territory).
So he stopped mid-step, turning towards the doorframe as he gave his brother’s strangely still form a once over.
“Hey. You okay man?”
Jon finally blinked, head turning as if he’d just noticed Jordan for the first time. That was odd too. As Jordan knew well, it was impossible not to hear someone approaching with hearing like theirs. Jon must have really zoned out.
“Oh. Hey, yeah.”
The tight smile was completely unconvincing and Jordan leaned against the frame, arms folded skeptically across his chest.
“Everything alright with Candice? I thought you guys were going to video chat.”
Even though he’d just played a pretty big role in keeping his brother’s relationship in tact (despite his personal views on the matter), he hadn’t pried much since. As far as he knew, they’d worked past the hurdle created by the big secret and were carrying on as usual.
Jordan had never been a huge fan of the girl, but he was glad his brother was happy and he hoped nothing bad had happened. Especially if it was due to the things Jordan had told her a few weeks ago.
To her credit, she’d seemed to take it well. And she hadn’t appeared to be freaked out by the revelation that she was actually dating Superman’s son. But Jordan’s own worries about rejection made it impossible not to wonder if something had changed.
“What?” Jon questioned distractedly, his eyes drifting back in the direction he’d been staring before. “No, everything is fine. She got held up helping her aunt, she’s gonna call me later.”
Jordan let out a breath.
“Oh, okay.”
He was genuinely relieved to hear that all was well on that front (more relieved than he’d expected, actually). But he still had no idea why Jon was acting strangely all of a sudden.
He hesitated, wondering if he should just back off. Sometimes people needed space, especially when their lives were as crazy as theirs. Yet the inner twin senses wouldn’t let him.
He knew his brother, and he knew that something wasn’t right.
“So,” he started again, firmly rooted in place, “have you suddenly taken up meditation or are you just too tired to do anything but sit and stare at the wall?”
Jon’s burnout had appeared to wane ever since Jordan had started helping out with saves again, but it was a decent guess.
All he got, however, was another distracted brush off. “Nah, all good,” Jon replied, offering a small shrug.
Jordan pressed his lips together, once again contemplating baking off. But as he followed Jon’s gaze towards the wall a sudden realization struck.
Jordan had never been one to pay much attention to home decor, but Jon had had a trophy shelf for years— even back when they’d shared a childhood room in Metropolis. There had always been a row of trophies across the top, and an array of medals hanging from the hooks.
The shelf was still on the wall, where it had always been since the move. But, for the first time that Jordan could remember, it was empty.
Clearly, everything had been taken down. And now, Jon was staring at the empty space.
His head snapped back to his brother. Then, his eyes landed on a cardboard box near the closet. Various bits of metal were sticking out of it haphazardly, and Jordan had no doubt that everything from the shelf had been hastily thrown in.
The question now was why.
Resolute, he took a step into the room. There was no way he was going to leave without getting to the bottom of this.
“Uh, what’s with the empty shelf?” He asked, half-sitting on Jon’s desk as he faced the other teen. “You’ve had that stuff forever.”
Frankly, Jordan had always found the sports trophies and awards a bit tacky, but Jon had been proud of them. He hadn’t even tossed them aside after the XK debacle. It seemed odd that he’d suddenly do it now.
His brother finally looked back towards him, the troubled look clear on his brow.
“I…it’s probably just time to redecorate, ya’ know?” Jon shrugged again. Jordan wasn’t willing to accept that. He knew how easily Jon could shut down and pretend he was okay, and he had no interest in going to the Cold War they’d had a few weeks earlier.
They were the Fraternals. They talked things through.
“Bro, it’s me,” Jordan reminded him with a sigh, “just tell me what’s actually up.”
Jon paused for a moment then, his shoulders slumped. Jordan knew he was getting somewhere.
“Fine,” the other teen agreed, releasing a sigh of his own. There was another second of hesitation before he continued. “I guess I’ve been thinking about things ever since Gaines tried to recruit us at the diner the other day. I just checked my school email account and he emailed me about it again. You probably got the same message too.”
Jon pursed his lips, eyes briefly darting towards the box of discarded awards.
“I don’t know. I guess it’s stupid or whatever, but it got me thinking about stuff. And I can’t help but wonder…I mean, after everything that has happened to me recently, was any of it even real?”
Jordan grasped the side of the desk as Jon began to share. The encounter with Gaines has certainly been a surprise, and Jordan was still reeling from the fact that (apparently) the truth was getting around the town. But he’d also brushed off the invitation to join the team as absurd, and hadn’t dwelled on it.
Jon had dashed out in the middle of the conversation to make a save and hadn’t mentioned it since, either. He hadn’t seemed to give it a second thought.
But apparently, he had. And it was raising all sorts of questions that his brother probably hadn’t dared to contemplate before.
“Gaines is ridiculous,” Jordan noted, rolling his eyes at the thought of his former coach. The man had always been…a lot. Jordan couldn’t say that he had ever missed that element of being on the team. And he’d been pretty annoyed about how he’d treated his brother after the XK stuff had put an end to the season last year. “We’re obviously not going to play football again.”
Jon snorted, and Jordan could sense the bitter edge as he did.
“Obviously,” his brother echoed, shaking his head. He stared at Jordan for a long moment before continuing. “Of course we can’t play like this,” he gestured between them, though Jordan wasn’t entirely sure what he was indicating. Maybe it was the fact that their summer growth spurts were rapidly making them more muscular than most Juniors would usually be.
“I don’t care about getting back on the team anymore,” Jon continued, “but maybe it’s crazy that I would have been happy to rejoin until last month.”
They both knew what had happened then, and Jordan knew what he was getting at.
“And maybe it’s even crazier that I ever played football at all,” his brother finished, looking down at the bedroom floor.
Jordan contemplated his answer. Jon was clearly feeling uncharacteristically down about things, and he tried to give it a more positive spin.
“Well, you loved it, and you begged to join a team,” he replied, “mom and dad probably didn’t want to take that away from you. Especially when they thought that neither of us would ever get powers.”
Jon snorted again.
“Yeah, and that was based on one scan when we were like three days old,” he noted, “shouldn’t they have looked into it more? In retrospect, it seems crazy that they didn’t,” Jon paused, “and I shouldn’t have been so naive about it after it happened to you. We’re twins, Jordan. And our dad is Superman. Yet somehow I managed to convince myself that I was normal— and that everything I’d ever done was totally legit. But it wasn’t, was it?”
That thought seemed to rattle him, and Jon sucked in a sharp breath. It was unusual for the other Kent twin to brood like this. Jordan briefly listened to his uncharacteristically heightened pulse.
From an outside perspective, Jon taken all of the recent changes in stride, just like he always did. Frankly, Jordan had been jealous about how easily he’d adjusted, both mentally and physically.
For the first time, however, he began to wonder if the gravity of the situation hadn’t actually had time to fully hit yet. After all, Jon’s powers had emerged during one of the most chaotic times of their lives and things had barely slowed down since.
Maybe Gaines had trigged something that he hadn’t realized he was repressing.
“Do you think you always had…something?” he asked, trying to figure out exactly what his brother had been contemplating. “Even as a kid?”
Jon shrugged tightly.
“I dunno,” he answered honestly, frown still set on his face. “But it would make sense if we were never actually as normal as we thought, right? We assumed everything we did was normal, but it’s not like we can compare to actual…” he trailed off, shifting in his seat with obvious discomfort.
Jordan knew what he was getting at. He’d wondered the same thing himself. While he hadn’t shown the impressive athletic skills that his brother had, he’d always had his quirks. And he hadn’t really realized they were quirks until he started thinking about how everyone else functioned in certain situations.
He’d never really noticed the weather, or felt the strain of exhaustion after a long day. His brain seemed to remember almost anything he’d read. He’d never had a sunburn in his life. The list went on. He probably still hadn’t figured out all of his unusual norms. And there was little doubt that Jon had a wide array of them too.
In fact, the speed with which he’d adjusted to his powers seemed to suggest that there are be something barely masked beneath the surface for a long time.
“What about the tire swing?”
Jon’s words snapped Jordan away from his own spilling thoughts.
“What?”
“The tire swing,” he repeated, nodding towards the window. “When we were eight, I threw a football at it and the rope snapped. As a kid, I just thought it was really cool. I told everyone on the team as soon as we got back to Metropolis. But—“
Jordan swallowed. Now that Jon mentioned it, he did have a vague recollection of that day. He’s thought Jon’s excitement about it was vaguely annoying at the time.
Now, however, it seemed more relevant than ever. Of course it was making Jon wonder. Shouldn’t their parents have wondered too?
Maybe they had. And maybe, for some reason, they’d falsely rationalized it away.
“Yeah,” Jordan nodded slowly, “that’s…probably not normal eight year old stuff.”
Jon’s frown deepened, but there was no point denying the truth. They’d have to work through it, sooner or later.
“And yet mom and dad let me go right back to practice the next week,” Jon said with a note of annoyance and disbelief, “they let me run around the field with a bunch of human kids even though I’m clearly…not.”
Jordan could tell that last part was hard to say, and his own stomach twisted uncomfortably at the words. Even though he’d been processing for three years, it was still unsettling to put things that starkly.
But Jon obviously wasn’t in the mood to sugarcoat anything.
Jordan steadied himself.
“Yeah,” he agreed, “we’re not. Not really.”
“Not physically,” Jon added. He looked down at his hand for a moment, opening it to reveal a crashed blob of metal Jordan hadn’t noticed he’d been holding (Jordan wondered if it had been one of the childhood awards until a few minutes ago).
His brother kneaded it, as if it was made of putty. Then shut his eyes for a second as he let out a long breath.
“I won my first MVP trophy two weeks after I broke the swing,” Jon said, taking another glance towards the discarded pile, “but I never actually deserved it, did I? I never deserved any of it. I wasn’t good because I worked harder or practiced more. I was good because of who dad is and what I inherited.”
“Jon—“
He wanted to offer words of comfort, but that had always been Jon’s forte, not his. The truth was, Jon made a good point and Jordan wasn’t really sure how to reassure. Before he could think of anything, his brother continued.
“I really thought I was okay with this. With the powers,” he shared, finally looking back at Jordan. “I’ve been excited, mostly. And if I’m being honest, I feel more like myself than I ever have before. Being like this feels right. But I hate that so much of my life was probably a lie.”
Even though they’d moved past it long ago, they’d probably never fully recover from the shock of what they’d learned at age fourteen. He knew their parents had been trying their best to protect them, and there was no way to reverse the choices they’d made. Jordan had forgiven them.
But the secrecy would always have an impact regardless. They’d grown up with one vision of who they were supposed to be, and now they faced a reality that was very different.
Obviously, there were still many facets of that they had to grapple with.
“I get that,” Jordan conceded, leaning more heavily against the desk. “We’ll never really know how fair it was.”
His mind drifted to the pile of academic awards he’d kept stashed in his desk. Jon had a bunch of those too. And while it wasn’t the time to raise it, it was likely that they’d also had an unfair advantage on that front.
“You did put in the work, though,” Jordan started again, remembering every 6am practice he’d been dragged along to back in the day. Unlike other kids, he actually hadn’t been too tired at that time— but he’d still hated it. “And no one can change who they are or how they’re born, right?” he proposed. “Some people are better at basketball because they’re born tall, other people are born with more flexible joints that are better for running.”
Jon rolled his eyes, but Jordan could tell that he was mildly amused by the weak comparisons.
“Some people are better at any physical task because they’re born half-Kryptonian,” he interjected, finally cracking a smirk.
Jordan released an amused snort in response.
“Okay, so it’s not a perfect parallel, but you get my point,” he tried, “we’re just us. And no one, not even mom and dad, really knew what that would entail until recently.”
“Sure, I guess,” Jon relented slightly, “but still, neither of us should have been on the team once your powers set in. I mean— what if I was on the field rather than in the cellar when everything started for me. Someone could have been…”
He trailed off with a visible shudder. That was definitely an unsettling thought.
In retrospect, Jordan wholeheartedly agreed. He didn’t blame Jon at all for simply trying his best as a kid who didn’t know any better, but what he’d done had always been reckless. Back when he’d thought his powers would amount to nothing more than slightly elevated strength, he’d begged to join the Crows.
As a friendless fourteen year old who’d just had a massive revelation dumped on his lap, it had felt like his one chance to grasp at normalcy. He’d been desperate to finally fit in, despite knowing how different he truly was.
Their father’s own complicated past had allowed for a brief lapse in judgement. But the whole thing had been predictably brief and ended in a literal explosion.
And yeah, looking back, it did seem crazy that Jon had kept on playing. But with everything else they’d gone through, he all understood why his brother had held on— and why his parents hadn’t wanted to take it away.
(He briefly wondered, however, if part of the reason his dad had stayed on as assistant coach had been to secretly keep an eye on Jon too).
“You’re right,” Jordan agreed, “we shouldn’t have played once we knew powers were a thing,” he paused, “and there is absolutely no way we are going to play now. Coach Gains is delusional if he thinks that’s actually a good idea.”
Jon scoffed.
“He’s the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met.”
They shared a smirk. There was no disagreement there.
His brother looked pensive, and Jordan noticed that he’d finally let the piece of metal he’d been fidgeting with fall on to his quilt.
“It is what it is, I guess,” his brother started again, sounding more like the resolved and stoic person he usually was. “I know I kept all those trophies up, but football hasn’t been a defining thing in my life for a long time now. Getting kicked off the team totally sucked, but maybe it was actually better this way. At least I had time to let it go, and find other things I enjoy.”
It was true. His brother had changed a lot since the move, and even more so since he’d stopped playing football. It had been hard to see him go through the adjustment but, considering where they’d ended up now, maybe it really had been better like this.
Jon had always been a good person, but he was a more well rounded one now too. He’d worked, and volunteered, and joined clubs. He’d branched out in ways that seemed to make him happy. And now, he was rocking the whole superhero thing.
He’d never live out his childhood dreams, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
“Flying around the world is way cooler than being a pro football player anyway, right?” Jordan asked, relieved to see his brother smile at that.
“I guess,” Jon huffed out a laugh, and Jordan could feel the sadness in the room begin to lift.
He had a feeling Jon was never going to put those trophies back up, but he also knew that he was strong enough to move forward.
And he was also pretty sure that there were ways to incorporate the things he’d once held dear into their new reality.
“We could fly to the Superbowl next year,” Jordan proposed, willing to do it if it meant cheering his brother up. “And watch from above for free.”
Jon’s brows did raise at the proposition, but then his eyes widened as another idea appeared to strike.
“And we can still toss the ball around,” he said, suddenly propelling himself off the bed with a newfound burst of energy that Jordan hadn’t been anticipating. As his brother glanced towards the window, he knew he was thinking about doing it sooner rather than later. “If you’re up for it.”
“Uh, sure,” Jordan shrugged. Video games could wait. And it might actually be fun to play around a bit now that they were suddenly on par.
“Meet me above the barn.”
“Above?”
But Jon was gone with a whoosh before Jordan had a chance to ask his question.
Intrigued, he took one last glance at the empty wall before darting out of the house too.
A blank slate didn’t have to be a bad thing, he realized as he caught sight of his brother several hundred yards in the air.
New beginnings could lead to things that were even better than before.
Jordan shot upwards, stopping just above a fluffy cloud where Jon was currently hovering with a wide grin on his face and an old football in his hand.
“Okay, so I’ve been thinking about trying this for a while,” his brother said, excitement palpable as they casually bobbed in the air.
Jordan waited, still not entirely sure where this was going, but happy to see his brother’s lightened mood. He’d do almost anything for Jon.
“Let’s toss the ball around. But, like, REALLY toss it. Up here.”
“Air football?” Jordan asked with amusement.
“Fraternals Football,” Jon grinned in response, using the nickname he’d once been skeptical of.
Jordan grinned too.
“Okay, go long,” his brother said, nodding towards the west.
“How long?”
“I dunno, maybe Colorado-ish,” Jon guessed.
Jordan wasn’t entirely sure if the ratty old football would hold up to the force of that throw, but he was very willing to see.
“You’re on.”
And with that, he took off across the sky.
So much had changed in such a short time. And there were still things that they both needed to come to terms with.
But, as strange as their lives were, things finally felt right.