Chapitre 13: Taking the Leap
Clark spent most of the morning fixing a broken shelf, restocking some nails, and helping the occasional customer who wandered into the hardware store. The work wasn't glamorous, but it gave him a sense of normalcy. In a way, it was like being... *Clark Kent*, and not the larger-than-life figure he used to be. Just a guy trying to get by, one day at a time. He'd come a long way since he'd left Mike's house and moved into this tiny apartment.
The store wasn't busy today, which gave him time to think. And inevitably, his thoughts wandered to her. **Natasha**.
He hadn't meant to get caught up in her. But every time she walked past him in the hallway of the apartment building, or popped into the store, he felt like his whole world slowed down for a second. She had this effortless grace, like she was in control of everything around her. And her eyes—there was something in the way she looked at him, like she could see right through him. It unsettled him, but in a way he didn't completely hate.
It wasn't just her beauty—it was something deeper. The way she listened when he spoke, or how she seemed to always *know* when he was about to speak before he said anything. She was like a mystery he couldn't solve, but he didn't mind it.
As he was shelving some paint cans, the bell over the door rang, and she walked in. His pulse quickened the moment he saw her, and he had to stop himself from staring. Instead, he forced a smile and greeted her like any other customer.
"Hey, Natasha. Need help with something?"
She smiled back at him, that same easy confidence he had started to recognize. "Yeah, actually. I've got a couple of things to fix up at the apartment. You think you can help me find some tools?"
"Sure," he said, trying not to sound too eager. He stepped out from behind the counter, gesturing toward the aisle. "What kind of project?"
"Nothing fancy," she said, walking beside him. "Just fixing a few things, trying to make the place feel like home."
Clark nodded, taking a deep breath as they walked through the store. It felt almost like a date in the way she asked him about his life—what he liked to do, how he was adjusting to everything.
He told her a little about how he had moved here recently, about starting over. But even though he felt some sense of connection, he kept the deeper parts of himself locked away. He didn't want to lie, but he also wasn't ready to explain everything. Especially not the *truth*.
As they made their way to the checkout counter, Natasha stopped for a second and turned toward him.
"You know," she said casually, "I've been thinking. You don't seem like someone who's struggling to fit in. You seem pretty comfortable here."
Clark wasn't sure what to say. Was she seeing something he wasn't aware of? He wasn't exactly *comfortable*—in fact, the whole idea of being here, of starting over, still felt strange. But he didn't want to get into that right now.
"I guess it's just... one day at a time," he said, offering a half-smile. "Finding my place."
"Everyone has to find their place eventually," she replied, her eyes soft but observant. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."
There was something about the way she said it, like she knew he was looking for more than just a place to live. That he was trying to figure out where he fit in this new world. He swallowed, not sure if he should respond.
She paid for her items, and as she grabbed the bag, she looked at him again. "Hey," she said, her voice light but with a hint of something else, "I was thinking—maybe we could grab a coffee sometime. Just to talk. You know, get to know each other a bit better."
Clark's heart skipped a beat. Was she asking him out?
It took him a moment to process it, but when he finally spoke, the words came out a little softer than he intended. "Yeah, sure. I'd like that. How about tomorrow?"
Her smile widened, and for a second, it felt like time slowed down. She wasn't the type to make small talk, and this felt... real. "Tomorrow sounds good."
As she turned to leave, she paused by the door and glanced back at him, her eyes narrowing slightly with something like amusement. "By the way, don't take too long to figure things out. Life's too short."
With that, she left, leaving Clark standing there, his mind racing.
The next afternoon, Clark was trying to calm his nerves as he walked toward the café where he was supposed to meet Natasha. He couldn't believe it was actually happening—he was going to spend time with her, outside of the apartment or the hardware store. But as he walked down the street, something caught his ear.
A loud crash, followed by the sounds of shouting.
Without thinking, Clark's body moved before his mind could catch up. He turned toward the alley, his heart already pounding in his chest as his instincts kicked in. The situation wasn't good—a couple of men were cornering a woman, one of them brandishing a knife. Clark felt that familiar, cold rush of adrenaline, the part of him that couldn't ignore people in danger.
In a blur of motion, he was there. He grabbed the man with the knife by the wrist and twisted until the weapon dropped to the ground. The second man tried to run, but Clark was on him just as fast, grabbing him by the collar and lifting him off the ground.
It was over in seconds.
The woman was shaken but unharmed. Clark made sure she was okay, giving her a few comforting words before calling the police to handle the rest. But as he turned to leave, he felt that familiar pull in his chest—the need to disappear, to not be seen. He couldn't just stand there and bask in the thanks of strangers. He had to go.
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Clark walked into the café later, a little winded from the incident, but his mind still racing. Natasha was already there, sitting at a corner table, sipping on a coffee. When she looked up and saw him, that same smile played at the corners of her lips.
"Hey," she greeted him, her tone light. "Glad you could make it."
"Wouldn't miss it," Clark said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. He sat down across from her, and for a moment, they just looked at each other.
"So," she said after a beat, her eyes scanning him as though she were searching for something, "how's everything going? How are you feeling... settling in?"
Clark paused. It was a simple question, but it felt like there was more behind it. Was she asking because she cared, or because she was still trying to figure him out?
He cleared his throat, deciding to be honest. "It's... still a process. But it's good. I'm starting to feel like maybe I can make this work. Like I can have something that feels real here."
Natasha leaned back, studying him closely, her expression softening. "You know, Clark... sometimes the hardest part isn't finding your place. It's allowing yourself to take a chance on it."
Clark blinked, the words hitting him harder than he expected. Was she talking about him, or about something else? He wasn't sure, but something about her made him feel like he was on the edge of something new—something he hadn't expected, but wasn't quite ready to turn away from.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone