She was smiling.
He had hoped and wished and prayed this day would never come.
But it did.
Her vacant look and foolish smile foretold everything he needed to know. It was how she floated perfectly in mid air, lost in her own world, fanaticizing the impossible, dreaming of the "beyond." Unfortunately, he realized, the "beyond" never existed in the first place, and they would eventually...
It would be hard to tell her. She held such a powerful, impervious optimistic exterior, for it was she who had melted him with her bountiful happiness. What could he possibly expect from her reaction? Mournful wailing? Lamentation? Contemplation?
All of them didn't seem likely.
And yet, he mused to himself, if she smiled at the news like she would be expected to, what would that bring?
He recoiled in disgust at that one word, knowing very well he was subjecting himself to hypocrisy.
He remained, to say the least, deeply disappointed. True, at times his loathing for humanity drove him to the brink of insanity, but to face the end like this...before he knew it, hope with her silly little butterfly wings came fluttering over, taunting him, "And you didn't want me..."
They were in a truly perplexing situation. His vehemence had died down quite a while ago, now more concentrated on his future, their future.
Much to his own dismay, he predicted it would never get the chance to unveil itself.
So, back to the smile.
Unsurprisingly, she was still smiling, despite his elongated period of thinking. In the swirling fog, the pitch black abyss where all hope seemed lost, she was, of all the things, smiling.
It unnerved him like so.
"You shouldn't be smiling," he reiterated profusely, time and time, again and again throughout the nonexistent hours (for time had no meaning whatsoever).
She never answered him back.
It was then he started questioning her mental stability. Perhaps the implied notion of their fate had finally gone through her head, or she began conjuring up ideas of how this was nothing but a dream. Either way, to be bluntly stated, he assumed she was losing touch with reality.
These were the times when he hated her.
He hated her for leaving him when his attention craved for her the most; he hated her because she shoved happy-go-lucky words and drawings up his face when what he really wanted was to be alone; he hated her because she was wise beyond his years; he hated her because she would often beset herself with his troubles; he hated her because she was too happy; he hated her because she gave him life; he hated her because...
She simply cared too much.
It brought a terrible pang to his mind, a disturbance within his psychic realm, a place where he found solace in, and yet...
He was startled by the sudden jab in silence. She spoke again, although clearer and more refined.
Although her back was turned, he suspected that pointless smile was still plastered on.
"You're waiting for nothing," he replied, voice edged with steel and a certain suspicion, as if implying, I know what you're thinking I know what you want. And it isn't going to happen.
She tilted her head, giggling as if in a hysteria, "Of course it's going to happen."
"How would you know?"
"Because this isn't meant to be."
For the second time, he recoiled in disgust, but this time at the sheer foolishness of her trite words. Furthermore, she was beginning to tire him. He knew what she was waiting for. He knew why she was acting so happy, so carefree, acting as if she was omniscient.
For once, she was not.
Oh, he was up to her intentions. She was waiting for a miracle. She was waiting for that idiotic bird's forgiveness. She was waiting for another happy ending where heroes were born and would eventually vanquish evil. She was waiting for life on earth to promulgate once again.
She wanted rebirth.
They were going to die, he thought bitterly. Why could she not get that in her dense head? They were going to die. Die.
Silence. She turned around.
"Are we really going to die?" she asked, responsive to his thoughts, in a rather solemn, trembling tone, desperate to scrape up the last remnants of her courage.
Now, here was something he had been frightened of for a long time: Mew's fear.
For a second, she seemed like a mere, helpless child, trying to hold on to her elusive support, both struggling to adapt to this unknown environment where no light existed. But she kept trying.
And then, he realized.
He could never ignore her jubilance, sorrow, her pity and hope. Although she was forsaken through life, she never failed to smile once more, so that surely she was able to become an encouragement to others. There were some people in this world that simply could not change the way they thought, but the words of those who cared were far more significant than those who did not.
I love you.
Her silent telepathic message echoed through the vastness of eternity. He vaguely felt her being's presence.
"If we die," she paused, "I'm sure somewhere, somehow, it's ready to forgive them. It's sad, isn't it, Mewtwo?" A wry smile flashed across her face. "They will probably forget about us. We will be hushed stories and fairy tales."
"And it'll have a happy ending, won't it, Mewtwo?" She gave way to hysterical giggles, a pitiful mewling protruding in the darkness, a sound he took in without knowing what to do.
"Do you know why I smile now?"
The question was left unanswered. He regarded her smile, thinking, contemplating the inevitable, bending what was real and what was not, reminiscing.
Will mankind acknowledge our glorious feats? Will they know that we, too, once walked upon land? Will they know how we affected humanity itself? Will they remember their past ancestors that had forsaken, forgiven and forgotten?
Did fairy tales have happy endings?
Mewtwo tried to smile. Really, he did. He focused his efforts in producing that one little curve to accompany his mouth.
But in the end, all he managed was a distorted facial expression, seeming to smirk at existence itself.