Love, caring, trust; never again,
not after what was done to me.
Too much understanding in those eyes, too much wonder.
I have to get away, so she won't realize my true feelings.
She would never love a monster like me.
Her, so elegant...beautiful, even if she is rough around the edges.
I don't care. I have to get away.
She won't let me. Her rubies for eyes draw me,
make me want to stay.
But I have to leave, I have to get away.
My feelings for her are too strong,
and she would never return them.
When she stands next to me, I look away.
I look at him, and he turns. Why?
What do I look like to him?
A child, a fighter, a killer of bandits?
Or perhaps an unrefined brat?
I shudder at that. Why?
If I wasn't so shy, I might be able to tell him.
But a man like him, so calm and quiet...
he would never go for someone like me.
His presence is reassuring,
in times where I just want to crawl into a hole and hide.
His voice unwavering even in a crises.
He would never go for someone like me.
I just stand, and look at him.
I want to help, he looks so sad.
I want to help him forever,
but...He would never go for someone like me.
She just stands and stares.
She probably thinks I am a curse.
If only I could tell her how I feel!
She might return it!
But then again...she wouldn't fall for a monster.
A beauty and a beast.
It would never work...
I have to get away.
Before my heart is torn in two.
I smile at her slightly, then tell her I must go. The cure excuse again.
I want to be healed so badly...so that she won't see a monster,
and might return my feelings.
She nods. I wish I could tell her!
But I can't.
With a nod, I walk away. Holding back bitter tears.
Planning to never return until she could truly love me back.
I just stand there and watch him leave.
He tells me he is searching for a cure again.
If only I could tell him!
He doesn't need a cure!
I wave slightly, holding back the tears.
I could never tell him.
Not if what he truly sees is a child.
But the woman in this child's body...
I turn, not wanting to see him leave.
Knowing that I probably won't see him again.
If only I could tell him.
He might share how I feel.
But, then again,
he may just see a child.
An unrefined brat.
I walk back to the others, ready to explain his disappearance.
I put on my mask,
I've had years of practice to refine it.
He will never know how I truly feel.
But...he would never go for someone like me.
And the two part ways, both looking back for a second, then continuing their journey: forever regretting never telling the other how they feel.