Part 2
Clark thinks it’ll die down.
It doesn’t.
If anything, it mutates.
Because the internet is bored, and boredom is dangerous.
Someone enhances Bruce’s original photo—
boosts the contrast, sharpens the shadows—
—and suddenly there’s a very suspicious reflection in the window behind him.
Not clear. Not definite.
But just enough.
Now there are threads.
Long ones.
With titles like:
“okay but who is THAT in the glass???”
There are circles. Red arrows. Overlays.
Clark opens his phone at breakfast and sees his own silhouette outlined like a crime scene diagram.
He stops eating.
By noon, it has a name.
“ReflectionGate.”
Trending. Everywhere.
People are arguing in the quotes like it’s a global event.
“that’s literally just light distortion”
“NO that is a MAN”
“why is he standing like that 😭”
Clark closes the app.
Opens it again.
Worse mistake.
Work becomes unbearable.
Lois doesn’t even pretend to be subtle.
She drops into the chair across from him and slides her phone over.
It’s a zoomed-in edit.
Enhance. Enhance. Enhance.
“…Clark.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Mm-hm.”
Jimmy has already made a compilation.
There’s music.
There are transitions.
There’s a freeze frame labeled:
“mystery man (???)”
Clark considers a career change.
Bruce, meanwhile—
is having the time of his life.
He posts again.
A clean, aesthetic shot this time.
Morning light. Marble table. Coffee. Alfred the cat, perfectly posed.
Caption:
“Quiet mornings.”
Normal. Harmless.
Except—
in the corner of the frame—
a pair of glasses.
Very specific glasses.
Clark’s glasses.
Clark chokes on air.
The internet doesn’t just break this time.
It explodes.
“THE GLASSES???”
“REPORTER GLASSES???”
“IS THIS CONNECTED TO REFLECTION GUY???”
“IS BRUCE WAYNE DATING A JOURNALIST???”
There are timelines now.
People connecting dots that should not be connected.
Clark watches it all spiral with the slow horror of a man witnessing his own downfall in real time.
He texts Bruce.
you need to stop posting.
Three dots appear.
Disappear.
Reappear.
no.
Clark shows up at Wayne Manor that evening fully prepared.
He has a speech.
A structured, reasonable, calm argument.
Bruce opens the door.
Looks at him once.
Then says, completely neutral,
“You left your glasses again.”
Clark forgets everything.
Every point. Every sentence.
Gone.
“You’re doing this on purpose.”
“You noticed.”
“Everyone noticed.”
A pause.
Bruce tilts his head, just slightly.
“Good.”
Clark should be annoyed.
He is annoyed.
But also—
there’s something else there.
Something quieter.
Something that makes him stay instead of leaving.
Dinner happens.
It’s not planned.
Neither is staying over.
Or the next time.
Or the time after that.
It just… happens.
Naturally.
Like it was always going to.
Online, the theories never really stop.
They just evolve.
“reflection guy” becomes a running joke.
A meme.
A mystery people are weirdly attached to.
But no one ever proves anything.
No confirmation.
No clear shot.
Just speculation.
And vibes.
Weeks pass.
Then months.
The noise fades.
The internet finds something new to obsess over.
Clark finally breathes again.
Life settles.
Normal returns.
Until one morning—
Bruce posts again.
No tricks this time.
No reflections. No hidden clues.
Just a quiet balcony.
Two cups of coffee.
Sunlight.
Caption:
“Morning.”
Clark stares at it for a long time.
Long enough to think it through.
Long enough to know exactly what he’s doing.
He switches accounts.
Double-checks.
This time, he’s careful.
Deliberate.
No mistakes.
And then he replies:
“Yeah. It is.”
No denial.
No panic.
No deleting.
The internet doesn’t explode this time.
It erupts.
Again.
But differently.
Because now—
it’s not a mystery anymore.
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