She tosses her hair. You watch the raven locks as they tumble across her shoulders. She doesn't realize her own sexuality, of course.
Her lip twitches into a smirk. It's infectious. You smirk back, and there you are, smirking like fools as though there's some big secret you're hiding.
There is, of course. You're hiding it from yourselves.
Your shared passion.
In several centuries, you'll be alone (again), wondering. What you would've done, if you'd known that one of you would die young (so old). Too late for regrets, to late for a passion that was smothered before it began.
Muse: The Doctor
Fandom: Doctor Who
Word Count: 100