Warnings: shounen ai (2+1), first person (Duo to Heero), written in the aftermath of having read A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Disclaimer: Not mine, just borrowing.
by M.E. (Magnificent Entity)
Epiphany #1: Regarding Perfection
I remember that we were all a little high when it came up, the combined result of too much sugar and a definite lack of sleep. Everyone had abandoned their walls and masks for the night, and was yaking away, sharing deep, heartfelt secrets without even stopping to think about what the consequences might be the next day.
Well, that is, everyone but you.
That's one of the ways that you're different from the rest of us-- while we cry on your shoulder, you never come and use ours, even though we continually offer. Sometimes it seems as if you don't actually have any of our petty problems, that you're somehow above all that, beyond it in some strange way. I've always admired it in you, that crystal of near perfection, never fading, never breaking.
To you, we must all seem like simple-minded fools, our flaws obvious, gaping. Mine most obvious of all, at least to our companions, if not to you.
That night, I wasn't even thinking about my basic flaw. In fact, at that time I hadn't even discovered it yet, it was still lying in wait for me, doing nothing more than sending me hints in my dreams. No, that night I was sprawled out on my bed, staring at you in wonder, watching as you sheepishly broke down a bit and showed us for the first time that you weren't perfect.
Don't get me wrong here, you've told us time and time again that you're not, but we always just watch you, not really hearing your words, wondering where you come up with such delusional ideas. You'd never given us any true reason to doubt your perfection until that night.
The dim lighting of the room hid your face in shadow, making it impossible to see the expression on your face as you spoke softly, for the first time showing us your imperfections. You were afraid-- afraid about what was happening in the world, about your part in it, and above all, what would happen to you when this was all over, and we were out in the world, on our own... It was a fear that we'd all had, though one that we'd been afraid to voice. Hearing the pain in your voice, I leaned over, embracing you, burying my face in your shoulder, saying that you were my best friend, and not to worry, because we'd always be there together, now, and afterwards, if it was okay with you. And though I seemed to be smiling, inside I was miserable, ashamed of my own worries and fears.
Somehow, in admitting your own fear, you only became more perfect.