Band One Shots [Closed]

I'm Not Perfect, But You Are. [AngeloParente] {urboii}

I'd known him in high school. We had never really talked that much, he was always the quiet kid living in the swirl of art and music. So was I, really, but we were still heavily divided. Don't get me wrong, I wanted so badly to talk to him, to feel the soft skin of his fingers holding my cheek. I'd only see him do that to one person, and she was his sister.

There was something about him, but I was never exactly sure what. It was something about his dark hair that fell in waves over his face, something about his gauges, something about HIM.

Maybe it was only his eyes, the beautiful silvery gray. Sometimes he wore contacts that his the captivating shade, but it was okay. He was still beautiful and perfect.

I never knew the reason why, but he always seemed so sad. He always kept away from everyone, and I never questioned him. Kids everyday picked on him, calling him cruel and horrible names and knocking his sketchbooks full of beautiful drawings out of his hands.

I hated it. It was the most pathetic thing I'd ever seen in my entire life. Picking on someone who was nothing but innocent. Angelo was innocent. I was innocent. But we were still treated like nothing because to them we were nothing. We just a few kids who loved to express ourselves, hiding away from the world.

They told us we had no reason being like that. That we should just cheer up and quit being sad all the time. They never knew me. They never knew him. But they always pretended like they did.

It always happened. It was happening right now as I was walking through the parking lot of the small school we both went to. He was doing nothing, merely climbing out of his own car, carrying his backpack over one shoulder, a sketchbook in the other. It made me smile.

He looked so happy.

He made me happy.

But I was nothing to him.

He never even knew my name.

But it didn't matter, I still loved him. Whether or not it was actual love, I didn't know. Maybe it was just because I thought he was perfect. Maybe it was because he was just what I needed. He was so similar to me it felt like we were already together, tied together by some invisible force.

I didn't exactly have friends, more so acquaintances, people who knew me on the outside but didn't really know me. To most people I was the kid with the blue hair that was shy and liked to spend her time during free period in the art room, painting, drawing or something else.

But I was so much more than that. I was made fun of constantly for it, but I didn't mind. They didn't matter, only Angelo mattered.

I watched, smiling his way. He turned his head, his crystalline eyes in my direction, and for a split second, he smiled. I smiled back, but it was short lived. A jock for the football team came behind him, shoving him and making his sketchbook fall to the ground.

I stopped, watching. It made me so sick. It made me shake. I was so scared for him. I wasn't even sure how much he could handle. I wasn't sure how much I could handle. He always seemed to be at his limit.

The jock finished picking on him, leaving Angelo to pick up his pictures from the cold, wintery, wet ground. I hurried over, bending down and picking up one that was being blown around in the slow wind.

I swallowed. I'd never talked to him before. I'd never been this close to him before.

"H... Here..." I stuttered, handing him the picture. It was a black and white picture that wasn't finished, but I could make out the faint face of a pale man carrying a black umbrella.

It kinda reminded me of him. Angelo shielded himself from the rain, which was the hate and all the bullying. And he stayed strong, something I wanted to be.

He took the paper from me, muttering a thanks.

"I'm... I'm Krista..." I muttered. He nodded.

"I know. We're in three classes together..."

I felt a small bush coat my cheeks. "Y... Yeah..."

He looked back up, his eyes slightly sparkling. The grey blue was blended and it looked like a small white strip was blending into it. They were so beautiful, I a,most didn't hear it when he started talking.

"We have art together. You're really good, actually." he muttered, a hint of a smile pulling at his thin lips.

This time I muttered a thanks as he stood up, this time actually smiling. "That's where we're supposed to be heading now. Walk with me?" he asked, and I grinned wider, nodding.

He smiled, and we headed to the art room.

He say beside me instead of in the back of the room. He pulled some dark hair from his features, his shining eyes barely showing for a moment.

"So... Krista... Tell me something." he said suddenly, and I turned to him.

I pulled my own hair, dyed a magnificent blue, from my hazel eyes.

"Yes?"

"How does someone like you end up here? You're so kind. You have a good heart. You're beautiful. You can draw. Why do you choose to be true to yourself? Why choose to be like... Me?" he asked, and I was slightly taken aback.

He had called me beautiful. He had called me kind. He had said everything to me I'd always wanted to hear.

I parted my lips to speak, but closed them.

"You're perfect. I'm sorry if that's too straight forward, but it's true. And... Can I ask something? It always seems like you want to talk to me, but you don't. Why?"

I was so happy right now. I'd felt so sick before. Unimportant. Unloved. But how I felt happy. I felt like someone cared.

"Because I'm shy." I managed through a choked voice.

He chuckled dryly, bringing his hand under my chin and making my hazel eyes flick to his grey blue ones.

"But it's cute. I'm sorry I never talked to you before. I never thought you wanted me to. So... Now that I know you want me to... Would you like to go out sometime?" he asked.

Where did all his confidence come from? He was not the same Angelo I knew before.

But it was okay.

Because he was perfect.

And he thought I was too.

I nodded, and he leaned over, kissing my cheek lightly. It was sweet. Perfect. And he thought I was perfect.

"You're so wonderful."