to a love that doesn't make you feel lonely

Thunder cracked somewhere over Metropolis, followed by the deep, distant boom of something exploding. Your heart stuttered. You turned toward the window and froze.

The skyline was on fire. A building several blocks away was collapsing in on itself, smoke curling upward like black ribbons. People below screamed, running for cover as debris rained down.

You grabbed your phone, hand shaking, and took a step back. The glass trembled from the shockwave.

Then, almost too fast for your eyes to follow, a streak of blue and red sliced through the night.

Superman.

You exhaled shakily, half in relief, half in disbelief. You had seen him before. Everyone in Metropolis had. The flash of his cape over the skyline, the blur in the news footage, the miracle stories that filled your inbox every week. You’d spent months trying to get an interview with him, chasing leads and unanswered messages, but he never showed. Somehow, though, Seungcheol always managed to get quotes. Short, exclusive ones that no one else could verify but were always too sincere, too precise, to be fake.

You used to joke that he had Superman on speed dial. He’d just smile, hiding it behind a sip of coffee, and say, “something like that.”

But now, watching Superman catch a falling beam mid-air, muscles straining against the weight, face set in focus, you couldn’t deny it. He was real. And terrifyingly human in the way he moved, in the way he looked toward the people below before flying off again.

Suddenly, the ground shook.

The blast must have hit a gas line nearby, because the next second, the building opposite yours erupted, and the shock threw you backward. Glass shattered. You hit the floor hard, pain shooting through your arm.

When you looked up, the entire office was chaos. Lights flickering, papers spiraling in the air, wind howling through the broken windows. You tried to crawl toward the exit, but the world tilted, a beam cracking from the ceiling and plunging toward you.

And then you weren’t on the floor anymore.

Strong arms had caught you mid-fall, holding you so tightly you could barely breathe. The air around you shifted, no, rushed, as the world blurred into streaks of light and smoke.

When you blinked, you were outside. On a rooftop you didn’t recognize. Your heart thundered. The city stretched endlessly below, sirens wailing in the distance.

And standing before you, cape fluttering, eyes sharp even in the darkness, was him.

Superman.

He set you down carefully, gaze scanning you for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, words tangling in your throat. Up close, he wasn’t as untouchable as you’d imagined. There were faint bruises along his jaw, dust in his hair, his chest rising fast beneath the blue suit.

“I was at the Planet,” you managed. “Seungcheol.. my coworker, he had gone to the washroom. He must be stuck. I—"

“He’s safe,” Superman said quickly, and something in his tone made you freeze. That voice, calm and careful, a little breathless like he’d run up the stairs instead of flown through fire.

You looked up, really looked. The curl of his hair falling over his forehead. The faint scratch along his cheekbone. The warmth in his eyes.

You had seen all of it before.

“Seungcheol?” you whispered, the name slipping out before you could stop it.

He stilled.

Then, slowly, he smiled. “Stay safe,” he said softly.

And before you could move, before you could ask why, he was gone, a streak of color vanishing into the burning skyline, the echo of his voice hanging in the air.

You stood there, the city spinning below, the wind cold against your skin.

It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t. And yet, somehow it did.

The wind stung your face as the city lights flickered below. Your heart thudded unevenly, chasing the blur that had vanished into the clouds.

“Seungcheol,” you whispered, because what else could you possibly say?

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