The Perfect Man
The Perfect Man
A Skins One-Shot
For astrolatry_fan for Yuletide 2011
Mini/Franky
Mini's Perfect Man.
One part Prince William's princeliness (without the balding), one part Brad Pitt's fucking beautiful face, one part Taylor Lautner's abs (but just his abs, because his face kinda looks like it's been squashed in), and one part Humphrey Bogart because he's fucking Humphrey Bogart and Mini would be a more stylish Ingrid Bergman.
Mini thumbed the corner of her scrapbook and looked at her last composite image of her perfect man. She hadn't done this in a while - she had made this one before she had even started dating Nick. Next to the cutouts of these celebrities' respective body parts from various magazines, she had written:
How we meet - He's playing football or rugby or something else athletic and manly as hell. With his shirt off, of course. And I'm walking by and he suddenly gets distracted by my gorgeousness and loses the ball or whatever. But then to show off for me, he gets it back and scores a goal. And then in celebration, he catches my eye and winks at me.
Rugby. Funny how she had written that down and then she had ended up with the captain of the rugby team. Okay, so maybe it wasn't such a coincidence - Mini was the kind of girl who knew what she wanted and went after it and got it.
At least, she had thought she knew what she wanted.
Nick was supposed to be perfect. He was a guy's guy, right? He was the guy that every girl dreamed of. He was gorgeous and a leader and charming. Her Prince Charming. He was supposed to love her and he was supposed to be the perfect complement to her and thus complete the formula for her perfect life.
Mini was supposed to be perfectly happy. She had assembled all of the necessary components and arranged them just so. She was supposed to be the envy of all the other girls at college. She was molding her body to be perfect - she had been gaining a few grams lately, though; she needed to remember to put in one less banana chip - and nobody had her fucking ferosh style (besides, she was doing the world a favor by taking those sparkly leggings from her mum's closet. The image of her mum wearing those leggings would upset the balance of the universe and tip it towards total devastation). She got good grades and Professor Blood thought she was a beacon of light shining on the dredges of dullness that was the rest of the student body. She had a best friend in Liv and Gracie did all that she was told.
Mini had worked so bloody hard to make all that happen. She deserved a love story, considering how she had put in so much to create all this. Isn't that how it happens? You get what you put in? You get what you deserve?
So then why had everything fallen apart? Nick hadn't loved her. He had fucking slept with her best friend. Her best friend, who, for a time, Mini was afraid that she hated more than anyone before. And now, she wasn't even really sure what her place was in that motley group of people she guess she considered were her friends.
Mini laughed a little to herself as she looked up at her bulletin board now under construction. What had once housed a collage of pictures of her with Nick now had a few pictures haphazardly strewn about of these new friends. Mini had removed all the pictures of her and Nick kissing, but generously kept a few of him just being a goofball. There was Gracie and Rich, with Farmboy making a silly face in the background. There was Liv with that bastard Matty. And then here and there and there again was Franky.
Mini's eyes lingered on that shittastic bowtie Franky was wearing in that one picture for a moment, having a terrible urge to just fix it and make it all just right, and then she resolutely turned back to the scrapbook in her lap. Mini turned the page and pressed her palms down through the page, smoothing it out.
Mini took up her pen and let the tuft of hot pink feathers on the end tickle her cheek.
Mini's Perfect Man.
Mini gently swept the surface of her face with the feathers again. What did she want, exactly?
She wanted serendipity to point the way to a fate of happily ever after. She wanted her life to be a chick lit novel. She just wanted to be perfect.
Okay, enough of this fuckery. Mini knew that these vague empty statements wouldn't get her anywhere. Specific goals. She needed to picture this perfect man in detail.
Mini unhinged herself at the hips and ended up lying down on her bed, eyes closed. She was going to test herself and see what her brain conjured up on its own as her perfect man.
Mini's Perfect Man.
Oversized grandpa blazer in a gag-eriffic mossy plaid.
Not too wide in the shoulders, which the ginormous shoulder pads in that blazer just highlight.
Something akin to lederhosen in khakiness and length with twiggy legs sprouting from the pant legs.
Severe side-part with hair slicked over.
And a fucking bowtie around the elegant neck, just like what Franky wears.
Mini sat up again. What the hell? How did her brain come up with that?
Your girlcrush is so blatant.
Umm, no, what the fuck? She was Franky's best friend, that's all. Franky being her new best friend just had an influence over her tastes or something. As Franky's best friend, Mini had to be able to appreciate all that Franky was and it was her duty to like things that Franky was, so that's why Mini thought of Franky-like things. When Mini had a job, she did it well, and this applied to best friend-dom, too. Mini was going to do whatever it takes to be the best best friend and so that's why her brain was thinking about Franky all the time.
Regardless, Mini had promised herself that she would write down whatever her gut reaction was, so she picked up her scrapbook and lifted her pen again.
She finished the list of qualities she had envisioned and then paused. Her pen hovered over the page, the feathers lightly bouncing on the non-existent breeze.
Mini crossed out the last word in the original title of the page and decidedly, she fixed the error.
Mini's Perfect Soulmate.