|Better than perfect
Author: his terrible beauty PM
We loved with a love that was more than love. Edgar Allen Poe. A ONESHOT about getting over a boy that you knew was wrong for you all along, and finding someone better than perfect.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Romance/Angst - Words: 1,192 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 2 - Published: 02-01-08 - Status: Complete - id: 2470288
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Yes, another oneshot. I got my first reviews on here today- I must admit that made me really happy.
Anyway, the offer of being a beta still stands, and I'm still looking for one myself.
Happy reading :
We loved with a love that was more than love.
That's what he used to jokingly mutter to his academic friends, his clever tongue compartmentalising our entire history into a neat little quote.
He said it to my face when he dumped me in the middle of our fanciest dinner ever. I'd expected him to ask me to prom, or to wear his class ring.
I was so, so wrong.
I was furious, I was ashamed; I really don't know why, because it's what I should have expected all along, had I ever really known him. Of course, I had meant nothing to him. His words, they meant nothing.
Nothing, nothing, nothing.
We loved with a love that was never even love.
A few months later I came across it, studying the works of Edgar Allen Poe.
And I was able to laugh.
I don't suppose Lucas would have ever been the One, but he seemed a thousand times better than the fives and sixes I'd been coming across. He wasn't the boy next door- Josh had that market cornered, with his nice, blue-collar family and his shy, easy manner. It would have been easier to have fallen in love with Josh in the beginning, would it not?
Unfortunately, I don't know how to do easy.
And you should understand this about Lucas- Lucas was beautiful, Lucas was the epitome of human perfection; even though he really wasn't. He was gorgeously incomplete, he was hideously magnetic. And really, in the end, his flaws were the only part of him that stopped him from being the ethereal being I'd first imagined him to be.
There was something about him that I couldn't help being attracted to. My friends all thought I was being ridiculous, and chastised me for chasing after somebody so elusive. Josh shrugged his shoulders, and said that Lucas was 'a bit of a prick'- and you know, I always laughed and agreed.
Nobody understood my attraction to him, but I confess that I couldn't understand it either. No matter how much I tried to rationalise it away with pretty, well-rehearsed speeches about how our love transcended rational thought, it didn't work. And I could read pity in my friends' faces. I could hear their scepticism.
Lucas was rich. Lucas was an opulent playboy who learnt ancient verse by heart. Lucas was different to the others, and it was only later that I realised that he had been so on purpose. The only difference was in his mien; the mask he wore concealed his true self, while his kisses muffled my curiosity.
And somehow, I managed to waste five months of my life, pretending we fit together. I don't know why he kept pretending as long as he did, either, but I know he got over it quicker.
I cried over him for so long, only to find that a week after dumping me, he'd thrown a costume party over at daddy's mansion in the Valley.
I hated him, I hated him.
I hated with a hate that was never even hate.
And would you know it; stupid girl that I am, I went to his Halloween party. Josh tagged along, in that protective way that a boy will. I must admit that I was glad of someone to lean on, glad of his arm at my waist- glad indeed that the boy-next-door was a boxer, and a pillar of inimitable strength . I couldn't have handled the collapse on my own.
I sure as hell couldn't have handled the breakdown.
Lucas, the git, sauntered over, his confidence practically oozing out of every single pore. He was aptly dressed as Adonis, and I only wished he'd bothered to put a few more clothes on. Three girls dressed as Fates were practically salivating over his ever word, and in a moment of dreamlike stupor, I prayed that the King of the Gods would smite them down in their idiocy.
I started screaming at him.
At least, Josh told me later that's what I was doing. Lucas looked stunned, and I almost felt sorry that his sinister perfection would be marred by his black eye. You now, I distinctly remember giggling at Josh's wide-eyed look of horror when he realised he'd put his hero powers into practice. In his Han Solo costume, he looked almost as good as Lucas; in fact, with hindsight, he looked a million times better.
All I know is that Josh hit him really hard and I was surprised that Lucas didn't get his nose broken- surprised, and really, really disappointed. He deserved to feel hurt too, didn't he?
Lucas snarled at me from the floor, and I'll tell you now, it was the least attractive he'd ever been. For once, I actually felt like the one in the relationship with power.
Still. I probably shouldn't have started kicking him.
I practically called him every name under the sun, and Han Solo had to drag me away before the snobs started rioting. He laughed, throwing me over his shoulder, and suddenly my rage was gone. Josh set me down on the ground again, and we sat on the concrete, laughing quietly.
"Why did you punch him?" I asked.
"You look really pretty when you're angry," he replied.
I smiled at that, needing no other coherent form of answer. He grinned, continuing anyway. He stared into my eyes, seriously, and my heart went straight to my stomach. I'd never been much of a believer in the whole 'eyes are windows to the soul' thing, but I swear they looked so much softer than before.
"You have terrible beauty," he whispered, and I didn't know what to say. So simply put like that, so different from anything Lucas would ever have said, it made me head spin. And you know, I tried to look away, but I almost immediately felt myself drawn back into his eyes.
"Princess Leia," he added, humour lighting up his whole face.
I threw my head back and laughed.
Seriously, screw perfect. Who needed it?
He came closer, still smiling. The kiss, when it came, was effortless. And I'm not going to use the word perfect to describe that, because it wasn't- his lips were a little chapped and I was still laughing. But he tasted of homecoming, and strawberries, and happiness, and I silently took a mental picture.
The screen faded to black, and we were left there, kissing on the sidewalk. A half-broken girl and the boy who fixed her, sitting too close together, too careless, too happy.
We loved with a love that was only love, simple as that.
And you know what?
That was all I ever wanted.