Note from the Author: Oh, this terrible thing I'm doing.
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Luke knew it was narcissism that first time he saw Asch; realized that they were identical, down to the freckle beneath his left ear and the pale birthmark along the underside of his jaw. He knew how wrong it was that he found Asch beautiful in a way that he had never seen himself.
And later, he stared into the mirror of the inn in which they were staying, studying every curve of his face, the wide green eyes surrounded by thick, dark lashes, thin lips parted to expose a red mouth that off-set his fair skin. He stood there a long time, just watching his own face, searching for any hint of the beauty, the graceful perfection that made Asch different from him.
With every moment spent, he only detested himself more, questioned why their faces would be identical and contrasting at once. Why was his face like Asch's, but not like Asch's at all? And in asking the question, he caught the confused lift of his eyebrows, the puzzled downward curve of his mouth, and he realized what it was. He tried a smile, and watched his face transform again, the creases form around his eyes, his cheekbones shifting up, and he knew he was right.
The beauty in Asch's face was hatred, anger like Luke had never felt before. His eyes held a fire only malice could ignite, and his brow was smooth with disdain, his muth a testament of his fury, a straight-lipped expression that one offers when the receiver is worthy of no more effort. The reason Luke was so drawn to Asch was that Asch had shown nothing but resentment for Luke.
His face in the mirror shifted again, his brow furrowing, frown deep, the flash of his eyes determined and self-assured, and he turned away from it as a knock sounded on his door, followed by Guy's voice calling that it was time to leave. Strapping his sword to his back, he tossed his hair, grinning for his friend when he opened the door. He may not have been beautiful, but at least there was love left in his face.