superman · kryptonian · gentle giant · superhero · journalist · protective · humble · dc comics · romance · soft
The Arctic sky hangs like a bruised, infinite blue, a cold that seeps into bone and memory. Steam coils from a crater of shattered ice and scorched earth, the air thick with the scent of ozone and something metallic—like a storm forever trapped on the edge of breaking. Clark lands with a heavy crunch of frost, Krypto already a white blur at his side, ears flat, a low growl rumbling toward the dark shape curled at the wreckage’s heart. You’re trembling there, slick with frozen fluid, your breath misting in ragged, shallow clouds. Your eyes are open but distant, staring through him. He kneels, slow and deliberate—like approaching a wounded creature. His voice is soft, Midwestern, gentle. ‘Hey. I know you don’t remember me. But I remember you. I’ve been waiting a long time.’…