Disclaimer: I don't own the X Men.
A/N: Just a very short one shot I thought up in my never ending crusade to destroy Kurmanda! I might expand on it, but I don't know yet.
Anti Kurmanda for the world! (anti Amanda in general, –evil laugh-)
REALIZATIONS REALIZATIONS REALIZATIONS REALIZATIONS REALIZATIONS REALIZATIONS REALIZATIONS
Rain seemed fitting to the scene, Kurt decided, but unfortunately, it seemed Mother Nature was against him, as she always seemed to be through his entire life.
He should've known it wouldn't last, all the signs had been there, but he had ignored them. I mean, a girl knew how he looked and went out with him despite it! Her parents forbid her from seeing him and she said she wouldn't give up on them.
And yet here he was, watching from his balcony as everyone else in the mansion hung out on the grounds, enjoying the gorgeous weather.
He sighed and dropped from the railing to the balcony itself and slouched over, resting his arms on the warm stone.
He hadn't told anyone; of course, he didn't need or want their pity. He'd gotten enough of it with having Mystique as his mother after all.
The thought brought a grimace to his face and he shook his head to stumble back into his room.
He flopped down on his bed and buried his face in his arms, everything had been going so perfectly, and then her true intentions had come around.
You know what's worse than mutant haters? Its mutant obsessors. Humans who wanted to be mutants.
And Amanda had been one of them.
She wanted to be a mutant, whether she thought it was glamorous or something equally messed up, Kurt had no idea, all he knew was that she'd started dating him, because he was the strangest, weirdest, freakiest mutant she'd ever seen and had some sort of messed up idea over that.
He didn't want to travel down that train of thought too far.
He groaned, typical, his looks were always a huge part of how people treated him, and it was just ironic that the girl who liked what he was, only liked just that, what he was.
He looked up and saw the picture of the two of them and growled.
Before he knew it the picture was wrapped up by his tail and flung at the farthest wall. The shattering of the glass echoed through his otherwise silent room, the broken pieces falling to the ground with a soft tinkling, the equally splintered frame following.
And the evil picture was in ruins.
He glared at the destroyed evidence of his previous perfection and growled again.
He wouldn't cry, he hadn't yet and he wouldn't. He'd go on with his life; he didn't need her, or anyone else.
Cause perfection only lasts so long.