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Shane = Bold

Cleo = Italics 

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"You know Lost Boy, together we can be Super-boy," Cleo commented with a chuckle, biting into the heavenly pastry with a grin directed in his direction. She didn't care that the boy was wearing a Peter Pan costume. He would forever remain as Lost Boy in her eyes. No matter what. Her red cape hung over the back of her chair; a streak of red to a dull scene. "Either that or Lost Girl," she countered with a contemplative incline of her head, watching with an amused expression as he adjusted the feather on his hat.

He glanced up at her with a small smile, cocking his head to the side as if he was considering something. "So if you're Super-girl, what's your Kryptonite?" He referred to a super's only weakness with genuine curiosity. Something inside him was dying to know what made her tick. From what he had gathered from their short conversations he could imagine her staring Fear in the eye and walking straight through him. Putting it in other means that isn't an awful personification, if she was brave enough to change despite what everyone else thought then he couldn't possibly think of something more frightening that could set her off balance. What could break a girl of steel?

There was also the point to take into consideration that Kryptonite was radioactive, radiating enough power to reduce one's powers but not quite kill them without a high enough dosage. Just weaken. Something told him that his Super-girl's powers consisted of sweet talk to get what she wanted, twisting other people's wills to her own and just generally being sly enough to get her desires no matter what the cost.

Or at least, that's what her superpowers used to be.

Before she changed.

Or tried to at least.

Regardless of the cause of manipulation, he could still very much see that her superpower was words. She just didn't use them on him in the same way. Although she was using them on him, no doubt. In every conversation they had. She was very subtly sewing thin threads into his life. Threads that he couldn't bring himself to break. The threads held him in place. Preventing him from committing the blow that would cease everything.

But that was just the thing wasn't it?

She was a flower, blooming in his chest. Beautiful until the last minute. Expanding. Expanding. Taking up more space with each interaction. Vibrant colors. Delicate petals. Everything he loved. It was stunning. The flower took his breath away, filling his lungs with new breath. No. The flower was in his lungs. Filling them up.

Filling them up to the point that he could no longer breathe.