Fragments

The Meaning of Perfect

If there was one word Huaze Lei detested with a passion, it was the word 'perfect.' He had heard so many iterations of that despicable word over his life, and it never failed to leave a bitter taste in his mouth whenever it was used in reference to him. Huaze Lei did not like to be thought of as perfect. The word had lost all meaning over the years; on the surface it was a positive word, a compliment meant to be savoured, a state to strive towards. However, Lei was no fool; he knew beneath the veneered facade, the word perfect was actually a sting in the tail, especially when uttered with the right cadence. His mother had wielded it as a weapon when he was growing up, desperate to have the ideal son even when Lei so clearly was different. She had shown no mercy; it didn't matter how Lei struggled, how much he suffered under her reign as long as he was outwardly the epitome of manliness and obedience. He sometimes wondered if she would have preferred a trotting little dog over an autistic child. He had been a disappointment to her from the moment he had been born, and although she didn't say it outright, he sensed it when he noted the sad gleam in her eye. He had struggled to live up to her impossible expectations; without Jing and F4, he would surely be a shell of the person he currently was. Whilst his mother had taught him to groom himself impeccably, to present himself as the golden son and to act like a gentleman at all times, she had always maintained a certain distance; she wasn't overly affectionate, and Lei had learned at a young age that any efforts on his part would be kindly but swiftly rebuked. His knuckles had bled, his skin split as his mother rapped his knuckles for misplaying the piano; mistakes would not be tolerated in her world, and his hands bore the marks of his failures. He had learned to internalise his shortcomings, keeping his cards close to his chest for fear of reprimands from his strict parent. He knew he presented a mild and calm aura; even his closest friends in the world thought he was the unfeeling, untouchable, perfect Huaze Lei. And they couldn't be more wrong. He had learned to internalise his impulses, to watch and observe others from a distance as he assessed what made them tick. He wasn't as innocent or calm as people perceived him to be; he could be manipulative, cunning and downright vindictive when the occasion called for it. However, he was able to fly under the radar due to the huge personalities of his three best friends; he was able to fade into the background with very little effort, and weave his subtle webs, a master puppeteer even as he remained unseen. But Lei was tired of living in F4's shadow, what good had it ever done him?

Ever since his return from Paris, Lei had been hollow, his mind a woeful pit of black rage as he wallowed in his misery. He had lost her. The love of his life. And it hurt him to his core. That was another thing that was supposed to have been perfect; she was his ideal woman, and their relationship should have been effortless. He had spent years, over a decade actually, sculpting himself into the perfect man for her. He had sacrificed so many hours slaving over the piano and violin, honing his craft in a bid to win her heart. Ever since they were children, Jing had been seemingly impressed by artistry and music; it had been the perfect seduction technique, or so he had thought. He should have known better; he had set himself up for disappointment from the very get go. He was numb as he recalled that awful day; he had walked in on her lip locked with another man, and his soul had left his body as his heart shattered. That was the end of their Parisian dream; he had once again failed, and he was irritated, no raging actually when he realised all his preparations had been for naught. She didn't love him. She never had. And he had wasted his time chasing her; there was nothing he could do to change her mind. Their love had withered before it had had a chance to blossom, fragile as a Sakura flower and just as fleeting. But it didn't mean the pain was any less intense. Lei leaned back on his elbows as he basked in the sun, but it did nothing to ease the cold fingers that gripped his heart. The rooftop had used to be his happy place, his solitary haven, but as he lounged alone, he felt no sense of serenity. His world had been torn asunder, heartlessly and callously, and Huaze Lei was tired of acting like a perfect fucking gentleman.