#quiet character

PROLOGUE

THE FALAFEL was hot enough to burn my tongue, but I didn’t care.

“Ow, ow, ow!” My voice came out muffled as I shoved the smoking sandwich in my mouth.

Malik chuckled from behind the stand, flipping another pita on the grill—for me to take to work. I always ate two. One on the way, and another at work, “Careful Ms. Daisy, you will burn your tongue.”

I shrugged, chewing, “Too delicious.”

He laughed, shaking his head. Malik never remembered anyone else’s names, but mine—mine he said like I was family. Probably because I was his most reliable customer. Two falafel sandwich every morning, no exceptions.

My second sandwich finished and he wrapped it up swiftly, with a kind of precision that made me admire him even more than I already did.

Malik was the first ‘friend’ I made here in Metropolis—I have no clue whether our friendship was one sided, something I labeled as friendship in my mind to reassure myself that I wasn’t completely and utterly alone in this city. He probably just saw me as a costumer.

I thanked him as I took my second sandwich, fought him for ten whole minutes just to pay the six dollars the two sandwiches cost. And, then headed towards the crosswalk.

The light flashed green. I looked left, looked right, did everything right. My dad’s voice echoed in my head like it always did: always look thrice, Daisy.

So I did. I double-checked. Triple-checked.

And then I stepped out.

The horn ripped the air apart before I even saw the cab. Yellow. Too close. Too fast.

I yelped, gripping my satchel as I sped up, tried to make a run for it—

My falafel slipped from my hand.

No…

A light blinded me, the horn echoing in my head.

Great. I die without my second falafel.

And then—an arm. Solid, strong, wrapping around me in a blur. My feet left the pavement, the wind tore through my hair, and before I could scream—

We stopped.

On the other side of the street.

I was face to face with his chest, with that oh so familiar symbol.

Oh.

Oh wow.

I blinked up at him, throat closing. His cape brushed my leg, his chest was right there, and his eyes—God, his eyes were the bluest thing I’d ever seen.

“You okay?” His voice was calm, steady, like he hadn’t just stopped a taxi with his body and scooped me out of death.

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

He tilted his head, concern softening his expression. “Miss?”

Still nothing. My brain had fried like Malik’s falafel oil.

“My…My falafel…” My voice cracked, dry, like I swallowed chalk.

Superman’s head tilted, and he looked to the side—his sharp jawline now on full display.

My knees went weak.

“Oh, sorry, ma’am…I wasn’t fast enough to catch it.” He turned back and I felt my knees fold.

He grabbed my elbow and steadied me, “Whoa, easy there.” Oh, for fuck’s sake, shut your beautiful mouth!

“Superman!” Malik was running across the street, apron flapping. “Thank you, thank you!”

Superman gave him a small nod, but his hand didn’t leave my arm.

Malik reached us, slightly out of breath, and his eyes darted between me and Superman’s hand still steadying me. “She looks pale,” he said. “Sit, sit—here!”

Superman nodded once, gently guiding me to the nearest bench. His hand was warm, solid, covering my arm like an anchor.

“She needs water,” Malik fussed. “You have water, Daisy, right?”

I panicked. “No!” Too fast. Too loud.

Superman crouched in front of me, cape pooling on the pavement. He raised an eyebrow, patient but unyielding. “You don’t?”

“I—well—”

“She always has water,” Malik interrupted, already unzipping my satchel.

“No, no, wait—”

Out it came.

My bright blue, plastic, Superman children’s water bottle. Stickers peeling, dented cap, the kind sold in the aisle for six-year-olds, which is exactly where I found and grabbed it and bought it.

My stomach plummeted straight through the sidewalk.

Superman looked at it. Then at me.

The corner of his mouth tugged upward, not quite a smile, but enough to make me want to launch myself into oncoming traffic just to end the moment.

Malik shoved it into my hands. “Drink, Miss Daisy.”

Superman’s gaze softened. “Go on.”

So I unscrewed it, shaking hands betraying me, and drank. Out of Superman. In front of Superman. While Superman watched.

Kill me. Just kill me now.

When I lowered the bottle, cheeks hot enough to melt through the bench, he straightened to his full height.

“Stay safe, Ms.?” he said, eyes on me like he meant it.

“Daisy.” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

He smiled, “Ms. Daisy.” And it was almost like he was going to remember it.

And then—whoosh. He was gone. Just gone.

Leaving me, Malik, and my stupid water bottle.

Cameras clicked, phones following the Kryptonian hero as he flew.

I rolled my eyes as I looked down at my water bottle.

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Song I listened to while writing : Holy Ground - taylor swift

also PLEASSEEEE be warned this is my first tumblr post, my first tumblr fic and what im planning is to do just like little scenes in a metropolis with daisy and like her falling in love w superman