Author's note: I know it's short, the next one will be longer! I actually have some reviews now, yeeeeah! But I'd still like more, heehee. Please be honest, and tell me if you think Toad is kinda in character? But it's so hard to know, he didn't really do anything except fight and all that in the movie! In case you didn't know, right now is between movies, when Magneto is still in his prison!
Anya was glad she didn't have any morning classes the next day; she slept until nearly noon, and when she woke up, she had what she imagined was an alchohol-free hangover. All night long as her mind was freed from her control, it had spun in circles, the same thing over and over.
The lean, dark, beautiful face of the DJ, staring at her with confusion, almost fear.
The mutant called Toad, standing underneath a streetlight, looking at her with contempt, then with discomfort.
And the touch of her attacker, or rather the touch of his knife against her skin.
She was worn out, worn down, and her secret was a burden, crushing her into the ground.
She wasn't lucky to have her powers. She knew that now. Knowing too much was worse than knowing too little.
Toad woke up in mid-air, halfway between his bed and the floor. He hit ground a moment later, tangled in his sheets, the breath knocked out of him.
"Good morning to you, too," he grunted to no one in particular. He talked to his empty apartment quite often; no one real was ever there. He sighed as the dreams he'd had rushed into his mind all at once. They were all about Anya-- in the arms of her attacker, staring at him with amazement, silently studying the sidewalk as she walked next to him, and most of all, over and over again, Anya standing outside her dorm, smiling at the ground, the dim light from the building turning her hair into a halo. She had kind of reminded him of the sweet-faced, chubby angels you see on postcards and old paintings-- at least when she kept her mouth shut.
It had been a long time since he'd touched someone for no reason. So long that he couldn't even remember a single instance when he had, except for last night, when Anya's halo-hair had drawn his hand to it like a magnet, before he had time to stop himself. Most people were afraid of him, and those that weren't were still freaked out by his appearance. He remembered Anya exclaiming that his hand was clammy, then her wide eyes when she got a good look at him. Her reaction was better than most, really; she hadn't seemed grossed our or scared-- just surprised, wondering. Almost admiring, in a weird way, or at least he would have thought that if he hadn't known better.
There was nothing to be admired about him, except maybe his strength, his powers that came along with his curse. He was a freak-- not just a mutant, a true freak. Unacceptable to the world, different in every way. No, just like he'd told her, he'd had no choice. Lack of fear was the best reaction he could hope for from people; affection was impossible.