He was imperfectly perfect.
The freckles that kissed his cheeks and ran over his nose gave him a look of innocence despite his being fully grown. Green eyes caught and reflected light as he cast a bashful smile at me. There was character there in the tousle of curls that gently waved in the breeze--it was clearly a losing battle as far as wanting to tame them but in it was his carefree nature.
His laughter was sure, his words thoughtful--he never said a harsh word. And his patience was remarkable even to the undeserving.
He was perfectly wrong.
His cheeks always looked dirty because of the overabundance of freckles that sat there across his crooked nose. Unremarkable was the color of his grey-green eyes and they seemed to criticize silently. He smiled at me, feigning innocence when he clearly had meant to push my buttons. His hair was a mess of mousy brown curls that he obviously left to their unruly ways, perhaps thinking that it was attractive to be so carefree--but really it just came off as lazy.
His laughter startled people who had never heard it and he took a ridiculous amount of time to say anything and it was never anything good. He gave the impression of trying not to offend but instead meticulously constructed his words to stab the deepest in a way few would catch. He was patient as far as it served his purposes, a truly detestable use of a virtue.
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