Perfectly Imperfect - Imperfectly Perfect

ps eridans the bully dontcha know

Eridan Ampora could go on for hours and hours about that girl. He could name almost every imperfection of her face, of her personality, of her emotions. She made him gag every morning she wore her usual outfit: oversized hoodies, T-shirts, leggings, and converse. She never styled her hair, or even tried to. He hated her art and her ludicrous singing voice. At the very sight of her cherry red face, he'd scoff.

Not to mention her weight.

God, he despised her girth.

He despised it so much that he'd tell her every day, whether it be in gym, or homeroom, or even in Enriched Science. He took every chance to tease and prod her about her imperfections.

And every time, she would laugh and join in.

And every time, she would break a little more.

And every time, she would run home after school and bawl until she had no more tears.

That was one thing he didn't know.

~~~

April 2nd was the Tuesday where she gave herself pep talks until 3 in the morning. April 2nd would be the day she'd do something.

"I'm not gonna take anymore," she muttered to herself as she looked into the bathroom mirror, her hair still damp. She readjusted her glasses for 50th time, and glared into her own eyes. "No more."

She certainly didn't feel the same way when she stepped on the bus. Her mind was clouded and she kept gripping the straps of her backpack with forced determination. But however long she held it, she always managed to think back to the next time he'd make fun of her.

Him.

Even though he was her bully, she couldn't help but think he was perfect. His hair was always gelled up correctly and his teeth were like pearls.

Her hair was always drab and poofy, and her teeth were yellowed and still had the bumps of newly-grown adult teeth.

He was always ravishing in his dress shirts and sharp attire.

She never found herself tolerating in eye-catching clothes, and just stuck with her comfortable ones she could use to shield herself.

He was so perfect.

She was so... not.

The girl thought this as she stuck her earbuds in, her backpack swaying in her lap when the bus lurched forward. Thank God he didn't ride her bus. He lived in some other rich kid neighborhood with all the other upperclassmen. He really didn't belong with the city kids and the trash, such as herself. She was pretty sure he drove to school in a Ferrari, anyway. He thrives, she manages.

She let out a sigh. She wasn't ready to begin with her "I-will-kick-your-ass-and-let-you-bleed-on-the-cold-floor-for-making-me-cry" attitude this early in the morning. There was something in her that wanted to be fully awake to see the show.

~~~

Homeroom was always the third step of her usual school day struggle (1. getting out of bed; 2. not going back to bed). It was where she first saw the perfect boy every day, and it was also where her depression cycle began. And, sadly, it was where she sat only two desks from him. Today, she couldn't take the risk. She absolutely could not let Eridan get the best of her until she was ready. And by the way that her hands shook from anxiety and her body felt like melting from the exhaust, she guessed she wasn't.

So, instead of heading into her homeroom, she barrelled into the female restroom with her hand over her stomach, half-faking pain. Her hand whisked the stall door shut behind her, and she sat on the tile with her backpack between her knees, riding out every moment he wasn't there to taunt her.