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FRONT PAGE CONTEST
FIRST PRIZE, TWO WEEKS PAID VACATION
Write the best article to land the front page, due at the end of this month. Your article should…
The three of you crowded around the bulletin board, lips moving as you read with furrowed eyebrows. Lois stood to your left, arms crossed with a coffee in one hand, resting her weight on one leg. Jimmy, to your right, used his finger to read along with the words in disbelief.
“2 weeks…” you broke the silence.
“Paid vacation. Am I dreaming?” Jimmy asked, eyes wide at the paper.
Around the simple A4 paper were various documents of importance such as tax forms, police reports or school transcripts, but at that moment they were insignificant. That simple contest paper brought hope and longing as you all went back to your seats, dreaming of what you would do during those 2 weeks.
“I think I will just stay on my couch. I won’t get up for the entire two weeks.” Lois said, leaning on her desk and taking a sip of her coffee. “I’ll order takeout, eat terribly, and catch up on all the shows I’ve been missing.”
“That sounds lame,” Jimmy interjected “I’m going traveling.” He pointed his thumb at his chest.
“This big guy will be resting on the beach. In this hand, a pina colada,” He held up one hand to mimic holding a drink “in the other, the sunscreen I’ll be reapplying over and over again as I spend all day at the beach.” He mimed rubbing sunscreen up and down his arms, making you and Lois laugh.
While the three of you judged if takeout or the beach was better, Clark sneaked into the room. Well, as much as a tall and big man could sneak. But the three of you didn’t notice, debating which show y’all would watch. He set his bag down on his desk, listening in to your conversation. He didn’t really know what you all were talking about, but he loved listening to all the laughter.
“Oh! Clark there you are.” Lois said, finally greeting the gentle giant.
“Hey guys.” He meekly said. Jimmy came over and turned him around, shoving him towards the bulletin board.
“Go check that out, big guy.” He returned to his spot as Clark made his way to the board. “Y/n, what about you?”
“Me?” you questioned. “Oh gosh, it could be a lot of things. I like the sound of the beach or chilling at home…” You trailed off, considering what you would do with two weeks. Clark read the paper on the wall before straining his ears to listen to your answer.
“I think I'd like to go back to my family's farm, help them around the farm.”
“Labor? On your two weeks off?” Lois looked at you dumbfoundly. Your cheeks turned red at the attention.
“I think it’s a great way to turn your brain off. You know exactly what to do and what the result will be. I till the field, crops will grow successfully. I give feed to the chickens, they will eat it. It’s the exact opposite of here.” You defended.
You didn’t notice Clark walk back over, so many questions for you on his tongue. He didn’t know that you grew up on a farm, you never talked about your home. He found himself leaning closer to you to hear your next words. His attention on you was interrupted by Jimmy.
“Smallville, what about you? Would you go home as well?”
He tore his eyes away from you, a faint blush running up his neck. He nodded, not trusting his own voice. Lois scoffed, turning back to Jimmy to argue Love House was a better tv show than 60 Day Fiancee. You listened, easily forgetting about the discussion. You let yourself join in, instigating the conversation to get the two to fight, laughing when they did.
When you all were packing up at the end of the day, your conversation returned to the contest. The four of you talked about what would be worthy. The mayor’s current scandal was brought up, as well as the oil spill across the country, the flood in the subway system, or the corruption at the UN. But the conversation always turned towards one subject.
“Well, Superman will always get front page.” Lois mentioned, popping some gum in her mouth. “And he only ever interviews with one reporter.”
Lois held up the latest newspaper. The front page had a picture of Superman smiling at a little girl who was giving him a beaded bracelet that spelt out ‘Superman’. Underneath the photo read Clark Kent. The three reporters turned to give a pointed look at Clark, who cowered under their stares.
“What I wouldn’t give to interview him.” You sighed wistfully. “I bet he gives such clear, honest answers. I’m tired of interviewing politicians.”
The conversation turned to other topics as you all walked down the hallway. When it narrowed, you fell in step beside Clark. After a few steps, his comment was quiet, but rang loud in your ear.
“I could get an interview for you.”
You stopped, your hands rushing to cover your open mouth in shock. Clark stopped next to you.
“But, don’t tell anyone!” He quietly ushered, stepping in front of you to cover your reaction from the others, who hadn’t even noticed you both stopped.
“Could you really?” muffled behind your hands, but the surprise rang true. You, interviewing Superman? It was a dream come true.
“I can’t promise anything, but I can always ask.”
You squealed and jumped up and down, throwing your hands around him. He stiffened underneath your touch, his hands awkwardly out in the air. You repeated your thanks in his ear, pulling away to plant a kiss on his cheek.
“I won’t tell anyone, I promise!” You smiled brightly at him before running off to catch up with the others, a jump in your step.
Clark looked at your retreating form in awe, a hand coming up to softly press his fingertips on the place your lips touched. His stomach twisted in knots at the simple action, and he couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on his face. Hesitancy was replaced by excitement as he considered the interview, his ears picking up your delightful giggle from the end of the hallway.
At midday the following day, you slowly wheeled your chair over to Clark’s desk. You rested your elbow on his desk and your cheek in your hand as you watched him type. Your gaze felt warm on his skin.
“I don’t want to rush into anything,” you whispered “but do you know when Superman might be free?” Your eyelashes batted at him, a soft smile on your face.
“Uh, I haven’t seen him since we talked last night, so I’m not sure.” He watched your face fall, and quickly added “But you’ll be the first to know!”
For the next few days you did small things for him to show your appreciation, and it made Clark fluster at the attention. You made him lunch, spoke up in meetings to defend his ideas, and gave him a fresh pack of pens - the kind with the fast drying ink and small nib.
It was a good excuse to treat him as he should be. You never wanted to make your crush obvious and put him in a difficult position, but this presented a new opportunity. Your kind actions were seen as repayment, not flirting. Kind compliments and small gifts for the interview he would secure you, not that you wanted to hold his hand and call him yours.
You were alone in the copy room when you heard the door behind you open and close.
“Sorry, I think I jammed the printer. We may have to call mainten-”
“I got you the interview.”
You whipped around, looking at Clark’s hunched form in the doorway. His hands nervously fidgeted at his side as his eyes found yours and darted away. An excited laugh left your throat as you bound over to him. Your hands grasped his, bouncing on the balls of your feet and looking up at him.
“Really, really, really? I’m going to interview Superman!” You said a little too loudly.
“Shh! I don’t want other people hearing.” Instinctively his hand covered your mouth, muffling your laughter. You could feel your cheeks warm at his action. The two of you stayed still for a moment, Clark feeling your breath on his palm and you feeling the weight of his hand. After a moment he pulled away, offering an apology.
“When do I get to meet him?” You changed the subject, trying to hide your embarrassment.
“He offered tomorrow night, 8PM, on top of the Pearl apartments.”
You gasped, a hand covering your mouth. Clark’s stomach twisted as he remembered his hand was just there and pushed down the thought.
“That’s my apartment building!” You exclaimed in a hushed whisper, looking at him with a bewildered look.
“That’s just lucky, I guess.”
“Just my luck! Oh, this is the best day of my life. Thank you so much Clark, I owe you a big one!”
Your hands wrapped around his torso, leaning in close so your head was on his chest. His chest rapidly rose and fell as he looked down at you. His arms found their way around your shoulders as his mind raced with the thought of meeting you tomorrow but as Superman, and he wondered if you would see right through his lie.
The next day went by in a whirlwind. You had a brightness to you, smiling all day and being extra nice. You hummed a sweet melody as you bounded back to your desk from the printer, organizing the papers and marking the questions that are most important.
“Okay spill.” Lois called from next to you with a quizzical look. “What’s got you all cheerful? You got a hot date or something?”
She laughed at her own joke, but stopped when she noticed you giggle. You hid your wide smile with the papers in your hand, scrunching your face before trying to play it off cool.
“Wait, really?” Lois stood up and walked over to you, holding her hand out as if it held a fake microphone.
“Miss, miss! Can you comment on your hot date tonight?”
“No comment.” You giggled again, unable to hide your childlike joy. At this point Jimmy had wheeled over, pestering you about your date.
Clark was still at his desk, his back turned towards you. However, he was not doing any work, instead paying close attention to your conversation. Your laughter caressed his ears and found home in his heart, making it flutter at the sound. You hadn’t denied it was a date. Did you not want to tell them?
“I’m heading out early.” You said, swinging your coat over your arm. Lois and Jimmy groaned at the lack of information they were getting from you.
“Enjoy your date!” Jimmy called after you.
The rest of the night seemed to crawl. You had already taken a shower, eaten a light dinner, rehearsed your questions over and over again, and checked your makeup multiple times. Even with all the prep, you were still nervous. So nervous that you felt like throwing up. Or running a marathon. Either way, your nerves were shot.
You were about to interview Superman. The Superman. The charismatic, cool headed, handsome Superman. You felt incredibly lucky to interview him, especially since he only ever chooses Clark. Your mind turned to the man who gave you the opportunity. What should you do to thank him? Would a nice dinner suffice? It would be an excuse to be with him alone. The thought had you nervous in other ways. Although you had joked that this was a date at the office, you were hoping that Clark would say something. Was it childish, trying to inspire jealousy? Maybe it was, you cringed.
The clock ticked by slowly, steadily, until it read 7:55PM. You grabbed your notebook, recorder, and a pen, before heading to the roof. The rooftop of your apartment building wasn’t cosy, but it would work. Scattered chairs lay about, making you wish you brought a rag to at least wipe some down. You wondered if Superman would sit during the interview.
“It’s okay, it’s just an interview,” you spoke to yourself, wiping some dirt off of chairs with your jacket. “Just get through your questions like you had planned. Be kind, but firm. It’s no one special, it’s just Superman.”
“Just Superman?”
You spun on your heel and looked over the side of the building. Superman hovered slightly above the building, looking at you with a small smile.
“I’m hurt. I thought this was a date?”
You could feel your cheeks grow red as you stammered, trying to think of anything to say.
“A-a-a date? No! Where did you hear that?” You laughed. You made a mental note to confront Clark about telling work conversations to Superman. Embarrassment flooded through you.
“Please! Sit!”
You were overenthusiastic. So much for the pep talk. Superman gently brought himself to the building and landed on the roof, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt pinned under his gaze, as if you were being observed.
“I really, really appreciate this interview. I’m sorry if I inconvenienced you, or if I’m not as talented as Mr. Kent.” You rambled slightly, gesturing for him to sit in the chair as you assumed the other seat. As he walked to the seat opposite you, you watched how his broad shoulders were adorned with the cape, flapping gently in the wind. You pulled your eyes away.
“Not at all, Clark has told me great things about you. He said you were one of the best reporters, and that I am in good hands.”
Well, maybe you won’t be too hard on Clark.
The interview went by smoothly, with Superman being honest and open. A few times you noticed yourself losing attention as your eyes wandered his form, or focused on the way his mouth formed words. You forced yourself out of it, not noticing the small smile on his lips.
Your finger pressed the stop button on the recorder as you closed your notebook.
“Thank you so much, Superman. I really appreciate you taking the time to be interviewed by me, it was truly an honor.”
“The pleasure is all mine, miss.” A wide smile adorned his face. “Is there anything you want to personally know? Off the record?” He offered.
Clark was good at donning a certain persona of his work self. Meek, quiet, not in the way or anyone. While Superman was closer to his actual personality, he found himself slipping into habits of his work personality. One was getting nervous at everything you did, even hanging onto every breath you exhaled or words that left the tip of your tongue. This was one of those times. He watched you chew your lip in thought.
“What is it like to fly?”
“To fly?”
“It seems like it would be fun! I mean, if you wanted to grab a croissant from Paris it would only take you 20 minutes-”
"7 minutes.” he interrupted quietly with a shrug of his shoulders, as if bragging.
“Or a fur coat from Russia in no time at all.” you continued, not listening to him “and I bet traffic is never an issue for you, and to see the stars from another angle.” Your eyes drifted upwards with a sigh, looking at the clear night.
Clark's eyes stayed on you, observing the wistful way you looked at the sky. He didn’t mean to say it, and has never offered it before. It’s almost like another being forced him to stand, to outstretch his hand to you.
“Would you like to see them up close?”
You looked at his outstretched hand, then back at him. From this view he looked angelic, as if offering this to you was nothing other than offering a child a toy. Wordlessly you slipped your hand into his, standing up. He pulled you in closer.
“Is it alright if I carry you?” He asked, his arm hovering above your waist.
You nodded, feeling the weight of it around your waist as he maneuvered you to hold you in his arms. He picked you up in a princess carry like it was nothing, a small surprised noise leaving your throat. This caused a hearty laugh from him as he looked down at you. Your breath felt like it was stolen as you looked at his face, the moonlight bouncing off his curls.
“I won’t drop you, I promise.” Superman said, and you believed it. There was a weight to his words, a hero's promise.
“Should I… should I be holding you?” You asked, unsure what to do.
“Nope,” he grinned, “just try not to scream too loud.”
Before you could even blink, Superman and you left the apartment roof, flying upwards through the air. A surprised scream left you at the sudden change before you buried your face in his chest, the wind whipping around the both of you. Clark tried not to go too fast, but enjoyed the close feeling of you pressed into him. He wasn’t going to go too far up, but just enough to get away from the light pollution and give you a good view of the city. Once he got to his desired height he slowed to a stop.
"Alrighty, you can open your eyes.”
You did as you were told, looking at Superman with wide eyes. He looked up, prompting you to follow his gaze. You gasped at what you saw. While stars were visible in Metropolis, it wasn’t like this. More stars than ever were visible, with barely any of the dark sky to be seen.
“Is that…”
“Yes, that’s our galaxy.” Superman finished your thought. The night sky shone brightly, the milky way shining brilliantly. “It’s peaceful up here, isn’t it? Sometimes after a fight, I like to come up here and admire the stars in the silence. At this height, all my problems seem so small.”
He looked down at you, watching as the stars seemed to reflect in your eyes. Clark's heart tightened, a familiar ache settling in his chest. He had thought that an interview would be fine, that his feelings would be fine, but they seem to increase every time he’s with you.
“It’s beautiful, Superman.” You said, still taking in the wonders.
“Kal-El.” He responded. You turned your head to find him already looking at you.
“Kal-El.” You said, and Clark thought he would die at the way his name fell from your lips. “It’s beautiful, Kal-El. Thank you for showing me.”
The moment seemed too beautiful, too perfect. You never wanted it to end. Your body betrayed you by shivering, and Superman began your descent down.
When his feet touch the rooftop, he held you for just a second too long, not wanting to let you go. When your feet touched the rooftop, you looked up at the sky, unaware of Clark's inner battle.
“Wow! I don’t know how I can ever look at the sky the same again. That was truly a once in a lifetime experience.”
Say the word and I’ll take you up there, or anywhere Clark wanted to say.
“I am happy I did this interview with you, miss.”
You turned back around to Superman, embarrassed you turned your back to him.
“Thank you again for doing it, and for letting me experience that. I’ll never forget it.” The air was thick between the two of you. “The article will be posted soon.”
“I am eager to read it. Get home safely.” Superman wished you goodnight before taking off, leaving you breathless in your spot.
You spent all night writing the article to make it front page newsworthy. While Superman had given you a lot of great information, your mind kept going back to being in the night sky. It was a comforting feeling being with Superman, and you understood why everyone had good things to say about him. He felt like a friend, comforting and familiar, and the way that he spoke to you was as if he knew you. He spoke with sincerity and truth, and he listened intently, as if trying to remember every word you say. You blushed thinking of the intensity he showed you.
The next day you went straight to Perry’s desk, demanding he look at the email you had sent him last night. The quick look over turned into a long meeting with a few edits, discussion of the article and its impacts, and a declaration that you had won the contest.
The energy you carried seemed to infect everyone that day. You hadn’t told anyone you won, and everyone assumed it was because your date went well. You wanted Clark to be the first to know. As soon as you saw him walk out of the elevator, you rushed over to him. Your hand fell onto his arm, dragging him into the copy room. A deep blush fell on his face as you closed the door and pushed him against it.
“W-why am I against the door?” He asked as he tried to shrink himself smaller.
“You’re bigger than me, no one will push you aside.” You said hurriedly “but that’s not why I brought you here!” You were practically bouncing, a wide smile on your face.
“Is it because of your interview?”
“Yes!” Clark let himself smile a little at your response “Perry said I got the first page!”
Disappointment took root in his chest. He thought maybe you would talk about your time with him yesterday, not that you won the contest. He watched as you did a small happy dance before your hands latched onto his upper arms.
“Will you let me take you to dinner? To thank you?” You stood up on your tippy toes to bring your face closer to his “Pretty please?”
Clark was surprised at the sudden ask but nodded, his throat dry as he swallowed hard. You grinned, talking about good restaurants in the area. All Clark thought about was your meeting yesterday. In fact, it’s all he’s been thinking about since he left your apartment building last night.
“How was the interview?”
His question interrupted your planning. You looked at him and blinked in response, processing his question. How much did you want to tell Clark? It felt intimate, and you’re not sure how close they are.
“I’ll tell you all about it at dinner tonight. 7 PM, at Riggios?” you asked, more focused on the dinner you were planning. Clark nodded in response, a forced smile on his face. He desperately wanted to know what you thought, if you felt the same emotions he felt last night.
“Can’t wait!” You smiled, grabbing the doorknob and twisting.
Riggio’s was a quiet restaurant that had dim lighting and candles on each table. It felt intimate, away from the rush of the crowd, each table holding quiet conversations. When you entered the restaurant, you saw Clark already seated. His large hands fidgeted with the small napkin on his lap. His head rose as if he sensed you approaching, and stood when he met your eyes.
“Hi.” He breathlessly said, eyes quickly scanning you.
Clark took quick steps to your chair, pulling it out for you to sit. You thanked him, sitting down when he pushed your chair in. He resumed his position across from you. You made light conversation, talking about the day, or traffic, or weather, or whatever came to your mind to hear him talk. You tried not to stare at the way his sleeve was pushed up his arm, or the way his hand rested on the table near yours.
“So… how was your interview?” Clark asked you, taking a sip of his water.
“It was… very pleasant.” You said, a small smile gracing your lips.
“Just pleasant?” He asked, digging for more information.
“Well, he was much more charismatic than I thought.” Your fork stabbed at your salad, not making eye contact. “Very different from you. That must be the whole ‘opposites attract’ saying.”
He softly laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. The tips of his ears turned pink.
“Did you both just talk? What did you think of him?”
Well, you thought, he is handsome and I liked talking with him, and he was kind. But why does it feel like you were cheating on your crush to Clark?
“It’s obvious why people are drawn to him. He’s very authentic, earnest, and makes you feel like you’re the only person in the room.”
“So you like him?”
“Well, sure, everybody does.”
“He made you feel special?”
“Not any more special than you make me.” You put a piece of lettuce in your mouth, meeting his eyes.
You had said it so matter-of-factly that it took him by surprise. He balked, the words he had prepared leaving his brain. The words he never uttered to anyone was on the tip of his tongue, begging to escape and tell you. Begging to tell you that he’s Superman, that he is the man of steel, that he is the one you interviewed. Begging to share everything with you. And yet, the words got stuck in his throat.
“I’m just saying,” you tried to fill the silence “you are also a real life superhero. A lot of people are.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, Lois is a superhero in the way she always helps with projects when she sees me overwhelmed. My neighbor is a superhero when he grabs my mail for me without asking. The random person who paid for my parking meter is a hero to me, as was the barista who helped a little boy who spilled coffee on himself.
“I don’t think you have to be a meta-human to be a superhero. Superheroes are anyone who does nice things without expecting anything in return, just to help the other person feel ease and safety. Superman proved that to me in the interview. He didn’t focus on the small ways he’s saved people, despite the numerous accounts of people who say he has helped them get a cat out of a tree or move a fallen tree off the road. To me, that has a much better impact than defeating big monsters.”
Clark watched you talk, eyebrows furrowed in awe at your admission. He didn’t realize that someone could look at him that way, as someone small. Not in a bad way, but in a normal way. Small like other humans, doing human things. For a long time he has felt like the ‘other’, but you didn’t see him that way. You saw Superman in your neighbor, in the barista, or the stranger on the road.
“Do you like me?” The need to tell you everything was overwhelming, all consuming.
The question took you by surprise. Silence stretched between you two. The whole restaurant seemed to wait for your answer, despite no one paying attention to you.
“What?”
“I like you.” Clark said rushed, like he wanted to get to your answer faster. “I like you a lot.”
You felt your cheeks warm and your chest swell. Your crush was admitting he liked you? Your throat went dry. The palm of your hands felt clammy, your heartbeat jumped. Clark could sense these too. You couldn’t really open your mouth to speak, so you opted to nodding your head. Slightly, barely noticeable. But he saw, he always does.
He smiled wide before standing up. Clark dug his wallet out of his jeans and pulled out some cash, placing it on the table before grabbing your hand.
“Follow me.”
You looked at the back of his head as he led you out of the restaurant and into the cold Metropolis air. You would follow him anywhere, you realize.
The air whipped around the both of you as Clark led you down the road, his hand intertwining with yours. A giggle left your throat as your feet struggled to keep up with his pace, and he just cast a big grin at you.
Clark stopped in front of an apartment building. You looked up at it before glancing back at him.
“You dragged me here just to get me to your apartment? I didn’t realize you had that big of a crush on me.” You nervously laughed. Clark shook his head.
“Just trust me.”
Clark guided you to his apartment. When you entered the apartment, you were met with a smell that was so Clark. Leather and stale coffee filled the room as you took in the messy state of it. It wasn’t that it was messy, per se, but rather an organized chaos.
You wandered into the living room, looking at all the things on his shelves. A photo of him with his parents, you assume, sat on his shelf. Little Clark wore a t-ball uniform, smiling so big his eyes were shut. His dad had him in his arms, kissing the side of his cheek. His mom was on his other side, her hand resting on his arm.
You scanned the shelf. A “best journalist” award adorned the space. An old camera. A dog collar. Numerous punch cards from different coffee shops. A beaded bracelet that spelt out “Superman”. A dvd collection. A beat up leather notebook.
Your eyes tracked back to the bracelet, picking it up. Your thumb smoothed the bracelet, trailing over the tiny letters. This bracelet, you had recently seen it. It was on the cover of the newspaper, a young girl gifted it to Superman.
“Why do you have this?” You quietly said, still studying the bracelet. Maybe Superman gave it to Clark, but that doesn’t make sense. The impression Superman gave you told you that he wouldn’t give those things away.
You heard Clark behind you. His large hands grabbed your arms and turned you to face him.
“I need to tell you something.”
Your heart dropped, expecting the worst. Was he going out with Superman? Was Superman maybe not that good of a guy? Did Clark steal it from him, and that’s how he gets his interviews?
“I am…” He swallowed. “Superman.”
You blinked at him, not really processing the words. Maybe you had missed a part of the sentence.
“What did you say?”
“I am Superman.”
A beat passed. Another passed, just looking at him. He was nervous, his hand coming up to ruffle his hair. You stared at him, and then began to laugh.
“Here I thought something bad had happened!” You laughed, hitting his arm softly. “That’s a good joke, Clark.”
“It’s not a joke, y/n…” he sounded like a wounded child.
“Clark, no offense, but you’re nothing like him. You look nothing like him.” Your eyes scanned his hunched over frame, his meekness, before landing on his glasses.
“For instance, you wear glasses and he doesn’t. Maybe if you were to take these off you would look a little more like-”
Your hands moved and took off his glasses, making your speech pause. You blinked a few more times, adjusting to the change. Glasses don’t change someone that much, do they? But it seemed like his face changed entirely.
Clark slowly stood taller, his shoulders rolling back. He looked down at you, still with a soft gaze, but it had hardened slightly. It was like he changed into a whole new person. The nervous, shy Clark had been transformed into a confident man.
“What is happening…” You asked, taking a step back. You began to feel yourself getting scared, the person you knew and liked changed in front of you, and it made you nervous that he wasn’t who he said he was. But then he smiled, and it was almost like the old Clark came back.
“Nothing is happening, you're just simply seeing the real me.”
He took a step and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. You stared into his eyes, the same eyes you saw every day, but they seemed clearer. More steadfast.
You got jolted out of your thoughts when you felt the ground give way beneath you. Embarrassingly, you let out a small yelp, too which he let out a hearty laugh.
“I won’t drop you, I promise.”
The scene played out exactly like the interview with Superman. He lifted you from the ground, the two of you slightly hovering above his living room floor. Your hands found purchase on his shirt, gripping it as you got closer to him.
“Do you believe me now?” He asked, looking down at you.
“Why are you telling me this?” You asked, the question nagging in the back of your mind.
“You see me for who I am, y/n.” He said it so straightforwardly, so sure of the statement.
“But I didn’t, you’re Superman!”
“But you see Superman for who he is, for who I am. A lot of people are in awe of me, or think of me as a threat. There’s some who revere my presence as if it was an act from a God, or who believe I came to destroy Earth. But you see me for who I am. Someone who is here to just help people, no strings attached.
“And I’ve wanted to tell you. I’ve had a crush on you from the moment you walked through the front door. Your hardworking, you have a great eye for projects, and you’re not afraid to defend the stories that you believe should be told. It’s courageous, and brave.”
The two of you were still suspended in the air. Something blossomed in your chest at his words. You felt vulnerable at how he saw you, but in a good way.
“Oh my goodness, I interviewed you as Superman.” You facepalmed yourself, feeling his laugh rumble through his chest.
“And you were great at it. You weren’t afraid to push on hard questions and get a straight answer.”
One of his hands came up to remove your hand from your forehead, cradling the side of your face. His eyes darted from your eyes to your lips, an almost pleading look on his face.
“Please understand. I want you to know all of me, and I want to know all of you if you’ll let me.”
The air around you felt suspenseful, waiting. You decided to answer him by closing the gap, your lips finding his. It was hesitant, and he didn’t respond. You pulled away, a little hurt at his response. The feeling didn’t last long before his hand pulled your face back, kissing you firmly.
The kiss wasn’t heated with passion, but rather with an unspoken affection and understanding. It felt as if the universe sighed, like it had been waiting for this moment. The world felt like it was just you two as your hands went around his neck as if grounding yourself, telling yourself that this was real.
He slowly lowered you two to the ground, pulling back to look at your lips. The lips he was just kissing, slightly red, were now smiling brightly at him.
“I can’t believe I just kissed Clark Kent.”
Not Superman. Not a superhero. Just Clark.
He smiled back at you before kissing you again.