2nd Quotation Drabble
"Perfection is achieved, not when there is nothing more to add, but when there is nothing left to take away."
- Antoine de Saint Exupery
Eric saw Ryan as the embodiment of all the fiercest, most powerful emotions, the pure human form of perfection.
Intensity was Ryan interviewing a suspect, nearly snarling when they pushed him.
Beauty was Ryan smiling, those bright white teeth of his framed by soft lips.
Sadness was Ryan near tears, eyes glassy and dark with emotion and barely restrained sobs making his throat tremble.
Ferocity was Ryan angry and determined, going to any lengths to get justice for a victim, to defend the underdog, to solve the case.
Grief was Ryan sobbing at his uncle's funeral, grieving for the last of the real family he'd had left.
Amazement was Ryan wide eyed at his surprise 35th birthday, shock written all over his face.
Fervor was Ryan in the midst of an attack of his OCD, scrubbing their apartment from top to bottom, unaware of anything but himself and the nonexistant particles of dust he was banishing from thier always spotless home.
Passion was Ryan mid-orgasm, his eyes rolled back in his head as he spoke in tongues, but Eric still understood him.
Vunerability was Ryan crying softly when he thought no one could hear him, curled up in his too clean corner, clutching a photo that he didn't know Eric knew about, all alone.
But perfection... Perfection was none of these things. Perfection was Ryan naked, sprawled out on their pristine white sheets, passed out from exhaustion, an innocent expression gracing his features, childlike and smooth in sleep, his lips parted ever so slightly as slow puffs of breath escaped him, nothing surrounding him but air and sweet, peaceful nothingness. That was perfection. Ryan, unaffected by the world and all its evils, slumbering like an angel upon a cloud.
And Eric knew it.
- Antoine de Saint Exupery
Eric saw Ryan as the embodiment of all the fiercest, most powerful emotions, the pure human form of perfection.
Intensity was Ryan interviewing a suspect, nearly snarling when they pushed him.
Beauty was Ryan smiling, those bright white teeth of his framed by soft lips.
Sadness was Ryan near tears, eyes glassy and dark with emotion and barely restrained sobs making his throat tremble.
Ferocity was Ryan angry and determined, going to any lengths to get justice for a victim, to defend the underdog, to solve the case.
Grief was Ryan sobbing at his uncle's funeral, grieving for the last of the real family he'd had left.
Amazement was Ryan wide eyed at his surprise 35th birthday, shock written all over his face.
Fervor was Ryan in the midst of an attack of his OCD, scrubbing their apartment from top to bottom, unaware of anything but himself and the nonexistant particles of dust he was banishing from thier always spotless home.
Passion was Ryan mid-orgasm, his eyes rolled back in his head as he spoke in tongues, but Eric still understood him.
Vunerability was Ryan crying softly when he thought no one could hear him, curled up in his too clean corner, clutching a photo that he didn't know Eric knew about, all alone.
But perfection... Perfection was none of these things. Perfection was Ryan naked, sprawled out on their pristine white sheets, passed out from exhaustion, an innocent expression gracing his features, childlike and smooth in sleep, his lips parted ever so slightly as slow puffs of breath escaped him, nothing surrounding him but air and sweet, peaceful nothingness. That was perfection. Ryan, unaffected by the world and all its evils, slumbering like an angel upon a cloud.
And Eric knew it.