By 10 p.m., the night had settled in.
"Good night," Peter said as he glanced at Star-Lord, who was wearing his blue children's pajamas, preparing to turn off the lights and leave the room.
"Dad."
Star-Lord, lying in bed, suddenly called out to him.
"What is it?"
Peter walked back, sat by the bedside, and gently ruffled his hair.
"Dad, is Miss Kelly my mother?"
Star-Lord's unexpected question hung in the air for a moment.
Peter, momentarily stunned, looked into his son's curious eyes. "Why do you ask that?"
"I dream a lot, Dad," Star-Lord said, blinking as he snuggled further under the covers.
"Dreams?" Peter's eyebrows furrowed slightly upon hearing this.
John often had dreams—dreams of a past life in the Boys World. Now, Star-Lord was saying he frequently dreamt too.
Could it be that the celestial children, who had descended into his life, were all destined to reconnect with their past lives through dreams?
"What did you dream about, Star-Lord?" Peter asked curiously.
"I dreamt I was abducted by aliens," Star-Lord said, his voice tinged with sadness. "I ran out of the house into the pitch-black night. Suddenly, a bright light appeared above me. An alien spaceship sucked me inside, and... I was taken away, leaving Earth forever. I couldn't see my family anymore—I could never come back."
Tears glistened in his eyes as he looked at Peter. "Dad, will aliens take me away? Will I never see you again? I'm scared... scared it'll really happen."
Peter sat silently for a moment, organizing his thoughts. Then, he reassured him gently, "No, that will never happen. It was just a dream."
"Dreams," he continued, "are like long, winding journeys through mysterious fogs and impossible landscapes. They're the stories our minds create, a part of our life's journey but separate from reality."
"Dad, are you sure dreams have nothing to do with reality?"
"Yes, absolutely nothing," Peter affirmed.
Hearing this, Star-Lord exhaled deeply. "So... I'll never be abducted by aliens or leave Earth, right?"
Peter nodded. "I swear, you'll never be taken by aliens. Even if it did happen, I would come for you, no matter where you were—even beyond the galaxy."
"Promise?" Star-Lord extended his hand for a pinky swear.
"Promise."
Peter hooked his pinky with his son's, sealing the vow.
After tucking Star-Lord in and ensuring he was asleep, Peter returned to his own room and opened a package. Inside was a handcrafted mixtape—a gift from Star-Lord.
Picking up the cassette with its patchwork of songs, he gazed out into the dark night.
It seemed Star-Lord was far more thoughtful than he appeared.
Kent Farm: The Next Morning
Jonathan Kent woke up to a startling realization—his motorcycle was gone.
"Martha!" he called out, alarmed. "Our motorcycle is missing!"
Martha came running at the sound of his voice, only to find the spot where the motorcycle used to be empty.
"It can't be! We didn't hear anything last night. Unless someone outright carried it off," she said, scanning the area.
Jonathan frowned. "Carried it off? A whole motorcycle?"
Before they could puzzle over it further, the roaring sound of a motorcycle engine broke the morning silence.
They turned in shock to see Clark, wearing red-tinted sunglasses, riding the motorcycle back onto the farm.
"Clark?" Jonathan exclaimed, his temper flaring. "You took the motorcycle without telling us?"
"Sorry, Dad," Clark replied nonchalantly. "I just wanted to experience a little freedom."
"Freedom?!" Jonathan's voice tightened as he tried to suppress his anger. "Clark, you have a responsibility. You can't just run off like that."
"Yes, I went out last night," Clark admitted, "and had the most unforgettable time flying."
"You're being reckless, Clark," Jonathan said, his frustration evident. "Do you have any idea how worried you made your mother and me?"
"Then stop worrying about me," Clark said, his tone sharp. "I'm leaving here for good."
Jonathan and Martha were stunned as Clark disappeared into the house, only to reemerge moments later with his packed belongings.
"Clark?!" Martha cried out. "Are you leaving the farm?"
"What else should I do?" Clark retorted. "Stay here and keep farming while you constantly doubt me and block everything I want to do? You've never truly trusted me!"
Removing his sunglasses, he added with a sneer, "Godfather isn't like you. He trusts me, encourages me, and wants me to break free. He's more of a father to me than you'll ever be. I'm leaving to live with him."
Jonathan's temper boiled over. "Clark! Listen to yourself—"
As he stepped closer, his eyes landed on Clark's ring. "It's that red ring, isn't it? You're not yourself."
Clark, mid-packing, glanced at the ring. "You're still mad I bought it? How pathetic. You and Mom are always fixated on meaningless things."
"Clark, you don't know what you're doing!" Jonathan tried to grab the ring, but Clark swiftly evaded him.
"Don't even try!" Clark warned, his actions becoming more arrogant.
"Clark, stop!" Martha pleaded. "Look at what you're doing!"
Jonathan, not backing down, demanded firmly, "Clark, give me the ring!"
"And if I refuse?" Clark shot back, tension crackling between them.
"Clark, you're not thinking clearly," Martha said, her voice softer. "That ring—it's affecting you. Please, take it off."
Jonathan added, "It's changing you, Clark. Ever since you started wearing it, you've been different."
Clark hesitated, looking at the ring. "You think this is because of the ring?"
"Exactly. You need to take it off," Jonathan insisted.
But instead of complying, Clark's expression darkened. "You're wrong. I should've bought it sooner."
Fixing his luggage onto the motorcycle, he sneered, "Stay here if you want to rot in this dump. That's your problem. I've had enough of this miserable life."
Jonathan's face turned red with fury. "Clark, we're not rich, but we've never let you down!"
"I can earn my own money," Clark replied coldly. "I have superpowers. I could be a football star, a celebrity. You're the ones holding me back."
With that, Clark turned and straddled the motorcycle.
"No!" Jonathan grabbed the handlebars, his voice shaking. "We're protecting you! We don't want anyone to take you away!"
"Protecting me?" Clark scoffed. "What a joke. You're just using me—a tool for your farm."
With that, he smirked, revved the engine, and sped off, leaving a cloud of dust and stunned silence behind.
Podrick Farm
Peter was out, leaving John and Star-Lord at home.
"You didn't record anything last night, did you?!" John angrily confronted Star-Lord, who grinned mischievously.
"Maybe I did. Maybe I didn't. I forget," Star-Lord said slyly, withholding the truth.
He planned to use the recording as leverage against John—just in case.
"You're so getting sent to the Kavachi Tribe one day," John muttered in frustration.
Defeated, John returned to his room, only to notice the cows in the barn.
With Peter away, temptation struck.
Five minutes later, John was sneaking fresh milk from a cow into a tin bucket.
Just as he was about to take a sip, the sound of a motorcycle engine made him freeze.
In disbelief, John watched as Clark, in his red sunglasses, pulled up to the farm on the motorcycle.
"Hey, John," Clark greeted casually, removing his sunglasses.
"Clark?" John blurted, forgetting the milk. "What's this? Have you joined a biker gang or decided to star in Mad Max?"