Disclaimer: I do not own this show nor its characters

Note: I know there's a big different with The Mr. Men Show and the old show Mr. Men and Little Misses, but since there's no place to put stories about the old show, I decided to just put it here.

I hope you all like it!

Dear Diary,
Oh, he's so perfect! He's everything I ever wanted and more! But he doesn't know how I truly feel about him. I'm forced to live a life of lies and secrets just so my friends don't judge me- but more importantly, so he isn't disgusted if he doesn't feel the same way. Oh, Diary, what am I supposed to do?

The red Mr. Man sat back and stared down at the book he was writing in. He knew it was a dictionary- he had been jotting down the thoughts he was too scared to share with anybody on the sides of the pages. It had seemed like the right thing to do at the time, but now that he took a moment to reflect on what he just did, he was almost certain that he did the wrong thing… again.

He sighed and fixed the flowerpot on his head when it started to fall off. "No wonder he doesn't like me back," Mr. Wrong murmured to himself. "He's so perfect and does everything perfectly while I mess up the most simplest of things!"

Closing the book, Mr. Wrong climbed off his bed and stood beside it, studying it. The mattress was on the bed frame while the box spring was on top, and the pillows were at the foot of the bed. Even though it wasn't very comfortable to lay on, it still looked right to Mr. Wrong, but he had a feeling that this wasn't how his friends had their beds.

He let his gaze scan the rest of the room, seeing that all the walls were a different color. The pictures hanging up were sideways and his windows were upside down. Everything looked fine to Mr. Wrong, but he tried to see his room the way his friends would.

I don't think this is right, he realized with a frown.

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard a knock on his door. Mr. Wrong left his bedroom and entered his living room, noticing all the things in here that weren't right either: Pictures that were hanging the wrong way, windows that were crooked, different color walls, and many more wrong things that only seemed right in Mr. Wrong's eyes.

Pushing his worries away, he opened the door. He felt his heart start beating faster when he found himself standing in front of the one he loved, the only one who could get him to believe that everything he did was in fact wrong.

"H-Hello, Mr. Perfect," he stammered, trying to calm himself so his friend wouldn't see what he did to him.

Mr. Perfect smiled at Mr. Wrong. "Hey, I came by to see if you wanted to go into town with me," he explained as he folded his arms behind his back. "I need some groceries, but I didn't want to go alone."

In his excitement, Mr. Wrong almost didn't hear the rest of what his secret love said. He wants me to go to the store with him? the red Mr. Man thought, starting to wonder if this was a dream, but it felt so real.

"Um… Mr. Wrong?"

Mr. Perfect's voice broke into Mr. Wrong's thoughts. "O-Of course I'd want to go with you," Mr. Wrong quickly answered his friend before he realized that he was having trouble keeping himself calm.

Stepping out of his house, Mr. Wrong closed the door that was upside down. He followed Mr. Perfect, who took the lead as they headed into town. Mr. Wrong tried not to show how excited he was just being around Mr. Perfect.

Would it be the right thing to tell him how I feel? Mr. Wrong wondered, wishing so much that he could confess his love and let it be in the open. But he was afraid of how Mr. Perfect would take it.

Would he feel the same way? Or would he be disgusted and refuse to ever see Mr. Wrong again?

As much as he would love for Mr. Perfect to share the same feelings as he did, Mr. Wrong seriously doubted it so he kept his mouth shut as they walked down the sidewalk into town.

Finally Mr. Perfect broke the silence. "So how have you been?" he asked, glancing at his friend before looking back in front of him.

"Just fine," Mr. Wrong forced himself to say without getting tongue-tied. "You?"

Mr. Perfect came to a halt in front of the shop that sold meat. "I've been wonderful," he replied. Mr. Wrong followed him into the store.

Of course he's been great, thought the red Mr. Man. He isn't battling with confusing feelings like I am.

For a split second he was jealous of Mr. Perfect, upset with him for not knowing the kind of pain Mr. Wrong goes through daily when he thinks of his love and tries to decide if he will tell Mr. Perfect about his feelings or not.

Mr. Wrong was so distracted with his thoughts that he didn't realize Mr. Perfect had brought two steaks until he walked up to him.

"You ready to go, Mr. Wrong?" asked the light blue Mr. Man.

Mr. Wrong nodded and followed his friend out of the store.

After that, the Mr. Men went to two more shops. In one of them Mr. Perfect brought a couple of pieces of long bread, and he explained that he planned to make toast. In the last shop he had Mr. Wrong pick out a cake.

"Why?" Mr. Wrong asked him. "Isn't this your dinner?"

Mr. Perfect smiled at him, a sparkle in his eyes that confused Mr. Wrong. "Yes, but there's so many wonderful choices that I need help deciding."

For several minutes Mr. Wrong stared at the cakes, moving his eyes up and down the rows of pastries. He was trying to decide which one Mr. Perfect would like the most, but he was afraid of making the wrong choose, and then Mr. Perfect would be stuck with a cake that he didn't like because he was too nice to tell Mr. Wrong that he didn't want it.

In the end, the Mr. Man picked out the red velvet cake. He watched Mr. Perfect very carefully, hoping to see a hint of emotion that would tell Mr. Wrong that he made the wrong decision, but Mr. Perfect just gave the money to the woman behind the counter and told her which cake he wanted.

"Hey, can you come by my house… let's say around seven tonight?" Mr. Perfect asked unexpectedly as they left the stop.

Mr. Wrong blinked, not sure if he should be shocked or excited. "Why?"

"If it's all the same, I'd like to keep it a secret until then." Mr. Perfect started walking off before Mr. Wrong could give him an answer. "See you tonight!" he called to his friend, soon disappearing from sight.

That was weird, Mr. Wrong thought as he headed back to his own house. What could he be planning for tonight?

When he finally got home, he ran to his bedroom and grabbed the dictionary he had been writing in earlier. He made a note to himself that at some point he needed to get a real journal to put his secret feelings instead of using the wrong thing to write down his thoughts.

He picked up the pencil and started moving it in the empty spaces of the page, the black lead forming words.

Dear Diary,
He has invited me to his house. I don't know what to do. Should I go or should I call him up and tell him that I can't go? I really want to go, but I'm afraid of making wrong choices, and then he would never like me back.

Sighing, Mr. Wrong leaned back from the book and looked down at the words he just wrote. He felt like crying when he thought about Mr. Perfect not returning his feelings, but he already knew there was no way he could love him since they were so different: One perfect at everything and the other one as wrong as could be.

"So since he could never have feelings for me," Mr. Wrong said out loud," would it be such a bad thing to go to his house?"

After thinking about it for such a long time, Mr. Wrong finally decided to go to Mr. Perfect's house. He glanced at his clock and saw that it was only five minutes to six. He was going to watch TV for an hour, but then he thought of something.

Is that really the right time?

He looked out the window at the giant clock in the middle of town. It didn't show that it was almost six but only a few minutes from seven!

Quickly, Mr. Wrong ran out of his house, just barely remembering to close the door behind him.

By the time he saw Mr. Perfect's house, the clock tower struck seven, sending loud gongs throughout the whole town.

Mr. Wrong looked at the house in front of him, noticing how perfect it was, not a single thing out of place. He tried to calm his racing heart, taking in deep breaths and letting them out as he walked down the pathway that lead to the door.

He saw how shaky his hand was as he lifted it up to knock.

A few moments later Mr. Perfect answered the door. "Hello, Mr. Wrong," he greeted his friend.

"Hey." Mr. Wrong dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry I'm late."

Mr. Perfect waved his apology away. "Won't you come in?"

Mr. Wrong stepped inside the perfect house, glad that Mr. Perfect wasn't upset that he was a little late.

As soon as he entered the house, he smelled food cooking. Just then the timer on the stove went off.

"Excuse me," Mr. Perfect said as he slipped past Mr. Wrong and went into the kitchen.

Mr. Wrong followed him, but he stopped when he got to where the dining room ended and the kitchen began. "What are you cooking?" he asked, but he realized that was a stupid question right after he finished talking.

"The stuff I bought this morning," replied Mr. Perfect as he grabbed the oven mitt. He opened the door to the stove and pulled out a tray with two pieces of toast on it. After he gently placed it on a couple of more oven mitts, he turned back to Mr. Wrong. "Have a seat." He gestured to the table.

For the first time Mr. Wrong noticed that the table in the dining room had a red cloth laid out on it with a lit candle in the middle and flower petals sprinkled around the edges.

Weird, Mr. Wrong thought as he sat down in one of the chairs.

Mr. Wrong looked around the house, realizing how different it looked compared to his own. But he didn't have time to feel bad that he did everything wrong because Mr. Perfect was walking over to him, holding two plates. One he put in front of Mr. Wrong and the other one across from him.

Instead of sitting down, Mr. Perfect went over to the stereo and pressed a button. Soft music started playing.

Mr. Wrong blinked in confusion as Mr. Perfect walked back to the table. He sat down and smiled at Mr. Wrong like all this was just an everyday thing for him.

Maybe it was, the red Mr. Man thought, reminding himself that he didn't know what his friend did in the privacy of his house.

Looking down at his plate, Mr. Wrong saw a piece of toast and a cooked steak. He picked up the bread, biting into it and swallowing it after chewing it up. He licked his lips, savoring the taste. It was perfect, not too hard and not too soft.

"How is it?" asked Mr. Perfect.

Mr. Wrong glanced up at him, seeing that the light blue Mr. Man was leaning forward as if knowing what Mr. Wrong thought of his cooking was the most important thing ever.

"It's wonderful," Mr. Wrong replied to him, eating more of the toast. Then he picked up the knife and fork that was on his plate. Every time he tried to cook steak, it always turned out to be too hard to cut or not completely done.

But this steak looked perfect.

Thinking hard so he didn't disappoint Mr. Perfect, who was eating his own food, Mr. Wrong looked down at the knife and fork. He knew he should use the knife to cut the steak, but when he tried to do that, his hand that was holding the fork moved over the meat and he started cutting the steak with it.

Laughter made Mr. Wrong look up to see Mr. Perfect watching what his friend was doing.

Mr. Wrong dropped both utensils and lowered his gaze to his lap. "I'm-I'm sorry," he stammered, feeling his body burn with embarrassment.

"It's okay," Mr. Perfect told him, and Mr. Wrong glanced up to see him smiling at him. "I think it's cute the way you do things." Then Mr. Perfect cut his own steak and took a bite.

Cute? Mr. Wrong thought in surprise.

Suddenly Mr. Wrong got to thinking about everything that had happened today. First Mr. Perfect came to his house and asked Mr. Wrong if he wanted to go to the shops with him. At the time Mr. Wrong didn't notice anything strange about it, but now he recalled Mr. Perfect buying two of everything, beside the cake. After that, he invited Mr. Wrong to his house, and when he got there Mr. Perfect had the table made up with flowers and a lit candle. And he also put on romantic music. Now Mr. Perfect just called him cute.

Is this a date? Mr. Wrong questioned, feeling nervous all of the sudden.

He watched Mr. Perfect continue to eat, feeling his heart pound painfully against his chest as he sat there and stared at the one he loved more than anything.

No this can't be a date!

As much as he would love for this to be a date, he was certain that Mr. Perfect didn't have feelings for him.

How could he? Mr. Wrong thought, starting to breathe heavily. We are so different!

His mind racing with confused questions, Mr. Wrong tried to pick up his fork, but his hand was so shaky that he couldn't grab it. He felt sweat running down his face.

"Mr. Wrong? Are you okay?"

Mr. Wrong jumped in surprise when Mr. Perfect spoke his name. He looked up at his friend, noticing the worried expression on his face. He knew it should make him feel better seeing that his love was concerned about him, but he only freaked out more, not even sure why.

He kept telling himself to calm down, but as he glanced around, he realized that he had been wrong once again. This was a date!

He suddenly felt like he couldn't sit down anymore. Quickly, he got up and ran to the door, ignoring Mr. Perfect when he tried to call him back.

As soon as he was outside, Mr. Wrong felt himself relax. He breathe in the night air, letting it out with a sigh of relief.

Why was I freaking out? he wondered, but before he could think of a reason he heard footsteps behind him.

Mr. Wrong turned around and found himself looking at Mr. Perfect.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Perfect," murmured the red Mr. Man, and he kicked a small rock that was by his feet. He felt ashamed of himself. He expected Mr. Perfect to yell at him and complain about how Mr. Wrong ruined his perfect meal.

But instead Mr. Perfect started laughing.

Mr. Wrong blinked in confusion. "Um… what's funny?"

"You," Mr. Perfect replied simply, laughing for a while longer. Then he rubbed his watery eyes and took a step toward Mr. Wrong, reaching for his hands. "Oh, I wasn't sure how tonight would go, but I was too scared to ask you out straight forward so I made this date without even telling you about it."

Mr. Wrong stared at him. "B-But how did you even know that I like you?"

"Honestly it wasn't that hard to figure out." There was a gentle look on Mr. Perfect's face. "I've seen the way you look at me and the way you act around me." He pulled Mr. Wrong closer to him and wrapped his arms around him. "I've felt the same way about you for a long time now."

"What?" Mr. Wrong pulled away from Mr. Perfect. "How come you never told me?"

Mr. Perfect lowered his gaze. "I wanted to, especially since you liked me, too, but something always stopped me. That was until I came up with this date idea," he added, gesturing into his house where the table and dinner was. "Were you having fun at least?"

"Of course," Mr. Wrong answered him quickly. Then he sighed. "I just wished I would have known about your feelings. The times I wish we were together, we could have actually been together…"

"I know." Mr. Perfect was silent for a moment before saying," But it's better late than never. Now we can be a couple and neither of us has to be alone anymore." He shifted his feet. "That is if you want to be my boyfriend?"

Mr. Wrong stared at him, once again realizing that he had been wrong. Mr. Perfect did have feelings for him, and now he was finally confessing them after so long.

The red Mr. Man hugged Mr. Perfect. "Of course I want to be your boyfriend!"

Mr. Perfect hugged him back. Then he pulled away from him. "Now how about we finish our date?" he suggested.

Mr. Wrong followed his new boyfriend back into the house, closing the door behind him.

Now that he knew how Mr. Perfect felt about him, it seemed a lot easier to talk to him, and Mr. Perfect even helped cut his steak, but when he tried to use the fork to eat it, he used the knife instead to pick it up.

Mr. Perfect started laughing, and at first Mr. Wrong wasn't sure how to react until he started laughing as well. He eat the meat off the knife, glad that Mr. Perfect didn't care how he did things.

Once they were done eating their dinner, Mr. Perfect picked up the plates and headed toward the kitchen.

"Let me help," Mr. Wrong offered, but Mr. Perfect shook his head.

"Thanks, but I got it." After placing the dishes in the sink, Mr. Perfect came back to the table with the red velvet cake and a couple of plates.

Mr. Perfect cut out two slices and put them on the plates. Mr. Wrong watched as his love started eating the cake, before picking up the fork and digging in himself. It was delicious.

At least I did something right today, he thought, remembering picking out the cake in the shop. But when he looked at Mr. Perfect, he realized he did two things right by saying yes to being Mr. Perfect's boyfriend.

"Thank you so much for coming," Mr. Perfect said to Mr. Wrong as they stood at the door after they finished dessert.

Mr. Wrong had a big smile on his face. "Of course, my love." He grabbed Mr. Perfect's hands and looked him in the eyes. "I can never say no to you, and I really enjoyed myself."

"I did too." Mr. Perfect suddenly looked shy and he shifted his feet.

"Are you okay?" asked Mr. Wrong.

Mr. Perfect didn't answer in words. Without warning, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Mr. Wrong's.

Mr. Wrong wasn't sure what to do at first until he realized he should kiss back. As he started kissing him too, he felt joy pulsed through him. This was the moment he had longed for for as long as he could remember!

Finally they separated, and the couple said goodnight.

Mr. Wrong found himself walking down the sidewalk in the dark alone, but he didn't care. He kept replaying that kiss over and over again in his head, remembering how good Mr. Perfect's lips tasted.

He had made it all the way home without even noticing. He opened the door and immediately went into his room, grabbing the dictionary and a pencil.

Dear Diary,
He likes me! He really likes me! It turns out that he was planning a date for me, and after I freaked out, he explained that he liked me for a long time. And at the end of the night, he kissed me! I couldn't believe it!

Mr. Wrong sighed happily as he fell back on his bed. He stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds, before glancing around. He suddenly didn't care what his room looked like. He didn't care that he always did everything wrong. Nothing mattered at the moment beside that kiss and the new relationship that formed that night.

He had finally found someone who loved him and accepted the way he did things. He couldn't wait to see his boyfriend again!

Oh, boyfriend! he thought, enjoying that word so much. Mr. Perfect is my boyfriend!

As he closed his eyes, a smile appeared on his face. He could see Mr. Perfect in front of him, but when he opened his eyes he only saw the nightstand next to his bed. But he knew he could see Mr. Perfect tomorrow and they wouldn't just be friends.

"Oh, I can't wait!" Mr. Wrong murmured as he started to fall asleep, thinking about the most perfect person in his life.

Please review! No flames please!

Thank you for reading!