This story sort of explains itself. Enjoy!
She looked at him longingly, staring into his eyes, moving to both ear-like points in his hair. She had grown so fond of him, and now she saw him, finally gazing back into her eyes. It's all she'd ever wanted from him, just love. No expectations.
He was so perfect, even with his flaws. He had nuances that were unexplainable, but so charming and entrancing. That's why she loved him. That, and the way he always walked with a determined, screw-the-world attitude. She laughed. He laughed too.
What was this secret path into his heart? She looked into his eyes again, and he returned her glance. She didn't want to look away, fearing she'd lose him. Even if that wasn't true, she'd feel hollow again if she didn't survey him like she did. Now her eyes roamed to his arms, and his hands, fresh cuts between each knuckle. How she wanted to take his hand. She lifted her hand to meet their hands, fingertips to fingertips and palms to palms.
She nearly shed a tear, but stared back into his eyes, also welling up with salty regret. It was heartbreaking, so close and so far away. She looked away from him again, then let her eyes travel across his body, his stance different than usual. Whenever she looked up, his eyes were there to meet hers. It was comforting, in a way. But still so maddening that love could not be the answer. Just because love wasn't the right answer for them, would that mean that it could never be? After all, what could be right, being mutants, being so imperfect and wrong from birth. That's what everyone had said since she was born. They were imperfect. It made their love even more valid. But still, it would never be.
She finally withdrew her hand, realizing she had to let go. But she nearly refused. She looked back into his glassy eyes, his face solemn, and sadness had set in. No creases marked his face, no emotion at all. None but the pain in his eyes, where the remnants of tears still resided. She took one more look at him, then closed her eyes, and leaned forward to kiss him for the last time. His lips were so cold and smooth...
She turned away, feeling her skin crawl as she was returned to her scaly blue appearance, eyes of yellow reappearing. She ran her fingers through her short, sleek, strikingly red hair and sighed. It wasn't like his. His was her favorite, it held its own memories. She'd once run her fingers through that hair, but still under false pretenses. She looked back into the mirror again before she left. Her eyes flashed to his for a moment, the beautiful hazel shining before she turned back to meet the only fate she was allowed.
"Mystique," said a familiar voice, "Charles' pawns are about; they landed their jet only moments ago. We've got work to do."
R&R!!!
Thanx, ppl!