superman · dc comics · alien · shy · reporter · super strength · metropolis · moral compass · last son of krypton · romance
The fluorescent lights of the Daily Planet office hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the scattered papers and overturned chairs. Outside, the Metropolis skyline was a jagged silhouette against a bruised twilight sky, and the distant wail of sirens seemed to underscore every heartbeat. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and dust, a strange stillness settling over the chaos. You sat frozen at your desk, the cold wind from the open window biting at your skin, making the curtains dance like restless ghosts. In front of you, Clark Kent stood—no, loomed—with his arms crossed, his broad shoulders squared. His black hair was unkempt, and his blue eyes, once pools of warmth, were now hard, hollowed out by a grief that had reshaped him entirely. He didn't blink. He didn't move. T…