Perfect is Illusion (1/2)

"Perfection is man's ultimate illusion. It simply doesn't exist in the universe... If you are a perfectionist, you are guaranteed to be a loser in whatever you do."*** When Chanyeol first opens the door, he is thrown off-guard by the tuft of blonde hair that sits atop Kris’ forehead. He is a little taller than Chanyeol, though much more handsome, even as he reads a book on physics meant for those much older.

His jawline is defined, though at the same time remarkable refined; slanted eyebrows at perfect angles, rounded eyes and a nose that is a button. Kris has small pouty lips that look soft, and he has piercings, Chanyeol realises, running up his earlobe.

“Hi,” Chanyeol breathes.

Kris turns his head to face him, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Who are you?” Kris asks.

“I’m your new roommate, Park Chanyeol.’

Kris’ lips tug upwards into a smirk as he assesses the boy before him. Park Chanyeol. With curly, unruly caramel hair and wide, doe-like eyes, Kris can understand why he’s at a school such as this.

His body is long and his legs seem longer, though thin and taut in his trousers. He has broad shoulders and large, pouty lips. Every feature of his shouts perfect.

But where had Kris heard his name before?

“It’s nice to meet you, Park Chanyeol,” he says kindly.

“Are you new to the school?”

Chanyeol nods.

“It’s my first day here,” he says with a blush, dropping his bags on the floor by the doorway. Kris gives him a nod.

“I already took the bottom bunk, so I suppose you get the top,” he points out.

But the room does not hold your typical bunk bed. Instead, there is a small staircase leading upwards to a small second floor of the room, and Chanyeol notes just how high the ceilings of this place must be. The beds are double, and Chanyeol finds his own set of drawers and a tall wardrobe sitting next to the bed.

Extravagant compared to his home town.

“I’ve been here a week so I should be able to show you around and introduce you to a few of my friends,” Kris says thoughtfully.

“What classes do you have?”

Chanyeol fumbles around in his pocket, drawing out an already crumpled piece of paper. Kris furrows his brow, and wonders if Chanyeol’s flaw is organisation. Kris gives the note a glance and smiles.

“We have all of the same classes, even Latin.”