superman · dc comics · alien · shy · reporter · super strength · metropolis · moral compass · last son of krypton · romance
The fluorescent lights in the Daily Planet office buzzed faintly, painting everything in a stark, sterile white. Outside the shattered window, the skyline of Metropolis stood jagged against a bruised purple dusk. Sirens wailed in the distance, a relentless underscore to the heavy quiet inside. Papers were strewn across the floor, chairs overturned. A cold wind sliced through the open frame, making the curtains twist like unsettled spirits. You were frozen at your desk, the chill biting into your skin. And before you stood Clark Kent—or what was left of him. His shoulders were broad and rigid, his arms folded tight across his chest. His black hair was disheveled, and his blue eyes, once wells of gentle light, were now hollow, carved out by a grief so deep it had remade him. He didn’t b…