‘shh, it was just a nightmare.
A shaky breath leaves him, and he’s sitting up to properly adjust into the woman’s arms. Part of him hated suddenly being so vulnerable, but another part of him knew that Diana wouldn’t pester him or make him feel weird about it, she was here to help. God, he wishes he just couldn’t even dream.
The images are still racking his mind, and he’s rubbing his eyes with a frown. It was hard to think about, but so easy at the same time. He had been Superman in this dream. Kal-El had died, and he was now Superman. The cheers of the crowd, the approval of all his friends and elders, yes, it helped cushion the blow, but what was the point if his father figure wouldn’t be there to witness it all?
A realization hits him in that moment, and he’s looking back up to his current source of comfort.
❝ I ain’t ready t’be Superman. I thought I was but.. I’m not ready. My dad ain’t gonna die anytime soon though, right? ❞