Reconized it right away, but I had to dig a lot in my memory, even while I read it quite recently. It's Nan Smith's On the Turn of a Card.
Slowly, very slowly, he felt her pull his glasses down his nose, as if afraid of what she'd find beneath. And maybe she *was* afraid. Maybe she would be afraid of him once she knew, maybe she wouldn't want to approach him ever again. Maybe she was mooning after Superman because he was unreachable, and once he was there, in front of her, stripped bare of any mystery, she'd shy away from him. He shivered at the thought, but forced himself to remain calm as Lois finished taking off his glasses.
A small gust of air reached him, tingling his eyes and forcing him to blink a few times, noticing with growing worry that Lois was standing in front of him, staring at him impassively, her face a mask.
"Oh, my..." she finally breathed out. "You... look... like... him..." she repeated, pausing between each word as if to take in their full significance. Her free hand reached for his face again and this time there was no hesitation as she smoothed his hair back. "Oh, my God! Oh, my..." She retreated abruptly, leaving him disoriented and dizzy from her touch, unaware of the pain she was causing him with her reaction.
Fear.
This was what he'd dreaded the most, and this was what was now lying in her eyes. She walked back without turning around, keeping her eyes fixed on his face, until her back fetched up hard against the far wall of the apartment. Her gaze kept travelling from the glasses she was still clutching, to him, who hadn't made a move since she'd discovered the truth, not even allowing himself to breathe for fear of making her scream.
She brought a trembling hand to her face, shaking her head as if to deny the truth offering itself to her, yet unable to doubt any longer. "Oh, my God, you *are* him," she hissed out, voicing the evidence.
Saskia
