[FIC] Sweet Perfection
Title: Sweet Perfection
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 542
Summary: It's too early to get up, so she stays in bed a little longer and watches him.
A/N: This was written on a day when I was bored and wanted to write something out of nothing. It's another proof of how I fail at describing people in an original way and also a sign that I'm going delirious. Maybe. Enjoy.
They often say that when in love, one will always think of the other as perfect, because love clouds the reasonable mind. They say that when in love, one will not see the flaws and negative points about someone, because one will be too focused on loving the other and thinking him too good to be true. They are wrong. It’s the slight inaccuracies that make the other worth loving and it’s the flaws that make him human.
He is a perfect example of that.
His skin is rough, weathered, slightly dry from the obvious overuse of make-up. There’s a scar on his right cheek - from back in the days when he used to get rid off pimples with his fingers instead of the pimple cream, so he confessed - and there’s a little bit of dirt on his forehead from the sweat that has only recently dried up. His eyes are closed, but the slight wrinkles at his eyes and around the bridge of his nose show that he is still awake, because his face smoothes out once he sleeps.
He’s breathing slowly, his chest rising and falling with every inhale or exhale, but there’s a slight hesitation in the movement when he stops breathing for a moment. His breath is warm, however, and smells like the spices in the food he ate not that long before. It’s repulsive in a way, because the smell is so strong, yet there isn’t really an urge to take a distance from it, because it’s him and being as close to him as possible is the only thing that matters right now.
When he opens his eyes and turns his head a little, a smile appears on his face. His left eye gets scrunched up a little and when focusing on it too long, he might look slightly awkward that way, but it’s the way his eye gets scrunched up that makes his smile so cute at the same time, so it doesn’t matter too much. There’s also a little dimple at the corner of his mouth which is just so cute that the scrunched up eye isn’t even noticeable at a first glance.
The thing is.. He is not perfect. Even just his face, such a small part of him, isn’t perfect, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter to those who know what love really is. It doesn’t mean not noticing the flaws, but it means seeing them, accepting them and loving them too. He is wonderful in his own way; beautiful to those who choose to see the good things instead of the bad, flawless to those who accept slightly less positive points as they are.
It doesn’t matter that he might not have the voice of an angel, or the looks of a God. It doesn’t matter that his hair stands in all directions when he comes out of bed. It doesn’t matter that he’s too grumpy in the mornings and too touchy in the evenings, because when it all comes down to things, his voice still sounds so caring, his hair is still soft, his grumpiness is still adorable and there’s nothing better than hiding away in his arms during the cold evenings.
He is perfect enough as he is.
Characters: Undefined
Rating: G
Wordcount: 542
Summary: It's too early to get up, so she stays in bed a little longer and watches him.
A/N: This was written on a day when I was bored and wanted to write something out of nothing. It's another proof of how I fail at describing people in an original way and also a sign that I'm going delirious. Maybe. Enjoy.
They often say that when in love, one will always think of the other as perfect, because love clouds the reasonable mind. They say that when in love, one will not see the flaws and negative points about someone, because one will be too focused on loving the other and thinking him too good to be true. They are wrong. It’s the slight inaccuracies that make the other worth loving and it’s the flaws that make him human.
He is a perfect example of that.
His skin is rough, weathered, slightly dry from the obvious overuse of make-up. There’s a scar on his right cheek - from back in the days when he used to get rid off pimples with his fingers instead of the pimple cream, so he confessed - and there’s a little bit of dirt on his forehead from the sweat that has only recently dried up. His eyes are closed, but the slight wrinkles at his eyes and around the bridge of his nose show that he is still awake, because his face smoothes out once he sleeps.
He’s breathing slowly, his chest rising and falling with every inhale or exhale, but there’s a slight hesitation in the movement when he stops breathing for a moment. His breath is warm, however, and smells like the spices in the food he ate not that long before. It’s repulsive in a way, because the smell is so strong, yet there isn’t really an urge to take a distance from it, because it’s him and being as close to him as possible is the only thing that matters right now.
When he opens his eyes and turns his head a little, a smile appears on his face. His left eye gets scrunched up a little and when focusing on it too long, he might look slightly awkward that way, but it’s the way his eye gets scrunched up that makes his smile so cute at the same time, so it doesn’t matter too much. There’s also a little dimple at the corner of his mouth which is just so cute that the scrunched up eye isn’t even noticeable at a first glance.
The thing is.. He is not perfect. Even just his face, such a small part of him, isn’t perfect, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter to those who know what love really is. It doesn’t mean not noticing the flaws, but it means seeing them, accepting them and loving them too. He is wonderful in his own way; beautiful to those who choose to see the good things instead of the bad, flawless to those who accept slightly less positive points as they are.
It doesn’t matter that he might not have the voice of an angel, or the looks of a God. It doesn’t matter that his hair stands in all directions when he comes out of bed. It doesn’t matter that he’s too grumpy in the mornings and too touchy in the evenings, because when it all comes down to things, his voice still sounds so caring, his hair is still soft, his grumpiness is still adorable and there’s nothing better than hiding away in his arms during the cold evenings.
He is perfect enough as he is.