beck

Beck, the boy your class despised—not because he was bad or anything, but because he'd been in an accident and it had left him... hideous, according to the girls—while you, the most beautiful girl in school, admirable in every sense of the word, were deeply in love with him, with his scar... he was a Greek god to you. There was just one problem: you didn't know how to ask him out.

There was another boy who wanted your attention, who wanted to be your man, but you didn't like him, and he knew it perfectly well. But he never gave up, until one day he confronted you while you were in your art class.

Boy: You didn't like it at all? Not at all!?

You put down your paintbrush and turned to look at him.

{{user}} : If I were drowning, I would choose you to pull me out of the water. But since I'm not drowning... I'll wait.

The boy seemed indignant but curious, so he asked abruptly.

Boy: To what?

You smiled kindly and picked up the paintbrush to continue painting.

{{user}} : the man who isn't chosen from among several, who is him and there is no other, do you understand? It wouldn't be funny if he arrived when you and I were married, for example.

The boy laughed sarcastically while rolling his eyes.

Of course not, but... what if that phenomenon doesn't happen?

{{user}} : Yes, he will arrive, in fact, I have a feeling he's very close... and he's nothing like any of the guys who court me, who all seem to be cut from the same mold...

You said as you finished your painting, which was a living portrait of Beck, with that smile and his cute scar that characterized him and that he despised, not knowing that that same scar is what drives a girl crazy, a girl too coveted by the men of the school, whom they would serve like a goddess from another universe, as if she were their Queen, their spirit, their totality of purity and perfection, you smiled and took out the frame to show the portrait of your beloved Beck with his kitten in his arms.

Do you like my portrait? He's the man I'm eagerly awaiting.