perf*ct (boy × boy) ✔

epilogue

"Well, on the grounds of only just making it to the dorm, I'm not sure if I can give you an answer." Solar patted his eyes, trying to look all innocent, until an evil smirk spread on his lips. When I rolled my eyes at him, knowing full well he was making fun of me, he gave in: "Okay, okay. This place is incredible. Everything is so shiny and big and modern, I wish I could show it to you."

"You can give me a tour tomorrow." I promised, meaning that he could FaceTime me again.

"Deal." Solar sat up on his bed. "And you'll give me a tour too."

Just to see all that joy in his eyes, which were practically sparkling with hope and enthusiasm, filled my chest with warmth. God, I missed him so much.

"Oh, and I just saw Nicholas. He's already making friends." Solar told me then.

"Figures." I smiled and sat up on my bed as well. When I sat there cross-legged while looking at Solar doing the same, I felt like he was right there with me. The only reminder of the distance between us was that I couldn't lean in to kiss him or run my fingers through his close cropped hair. "How about you?"

"Well, you see, on the grounds of only just making it to the dorm, I haven't really had the time." Solar grinned so widely it made the corners of his eyes crinkle. God, I loved that idiot so much. "And you?"

I was just about to answer when the dorm door opened and a hooded figure made its way in. When he pulled off the hood, I started smiling, and he smiled right back at me. At a closer look his pink hair was a lot brighter and he had two piercings on his left eyebrow. The don't-don't-talk-to-me headphones hung around his neck and when he answered my smile with an askew grin, I had a feeling we would get along just fine.

"I've got to go. We'll talk more tomorrow, okay?" I told Solar.

"Don't forget about the tour." Solar blew me a kiss before ending the call. Thanks to him my cheeks were burning when I looked up at my new roommate.

"Sorry, I was just checking up on my  boyfriend." I muttered. Only then I realized not everyone might take it well if my first words to them was about me being gay, but fortunately my roommate just nodded and slumped to sit on his bed in the middle of all the boxes and bags. "I-I'm Nathan."

"I'm Maxwell, but you can go ahead and call me Max." The guy said. His voice was wheezy, like he had allergies or like he had smoked too many cigarettes. Then he pulled out two cans of soda and asked: "I bought extra, just in case. Thirsty?"

"Yeah, sure." I leaned my back against the wall, facing him while he tossed a can to me. It was cold and the condensation had formed tiny droplets of water on its surface. We talked and talked for hours, getting to know each other, and, before I knew it, I had already made a friend.

That reinforced my sense of belonging and my confidence in everything working out for the best in my new school. My college years were going to be memorable, I was sure of it.

It was already late and I was laying in my bed in the shadowy room when my phone beeped. I picked it up and muted it, not wanting to wake Max. The text was from, who else but, Solar.

Solar: I forgot to say that I don't think I hate the word perfect anymore.

nathan: really? why not?

Solar: Because it reminds me of you.

nathan: that's so cheesy.
nathan: ..but i know what you mean.

Solar: Wait, you already knew that you are perfect?

nathan: no, but you are.

°°°°

I can't believe it's already the end!

First of all, thank you so much for all the support you've given me. Your comments, votes and/or reads are invaluable to me. <3 Thank you for rooting for me and believing in me even when I didn't believe in myself. Thank you for not giving up the story and reading it till the end.

What comes to perf*ction, I'm with Solar. I wrote this story partly as a reminder to myself that you don't have to do it perf*ctly, you just have to get it done. As someone who has suffered from the incessant fear of not being good enough basically all my life, I've come to dislike the concept of perf*ction.

Perf*ctionism isn't always productive and I don't think it is a virtue like our society often portrays it to be. When the pressure of doing everything perf*ctly gets too enormous, it's easier to never try at all. Or, alternatively, keep pushing until you burn out. And all that to reach for something that doesn't even exist!

I wrote perf*ct as a praise to imperf*ction. It's what makes us unique and authentic, so why do we spend so much time trying to hide our flaws?

Because nothing or nobody is perf*ct, as in flawless, I think we should try to create our own meaning for the word perf*ction. To me it's the people and animals I love, with all their quirks, and the things I find beautiful because of their flaws: decayed buildings, rusty items, rainy days.

What is perf*ction to you?

I have no punchline to this. I just hope we would spend less time trying to be anything other than ourselves, because it's a waste of time and effort. And I hope you found something to carry with you from perf*ct, something to remember it from. If not, that's perf*ctly fine as well.

Love,
sweetcaressesofmay