Re: Third Class ; Dining
"Perfection is boring because it's flat. Smooth. It's the imperfections that make things more interesting." He was quiet for a moment, trying to decide where these opinions, this information came from, but in the end, he decided it wasn't something he needed to worry about. "Imagine a white room. Completely white. No shadows. Nothing than whiteness. It would be boring, wouldn't it? But then..." And he reached up with his other hand, touching her forehead where she had tapped her temple moments before. "Imagine someone scuffed the wall with their shoe. That makes the room interesting. Something to look at." Perfection wasn't so appealing, the lost boy decided, a breath escaping him as he pulled his hand back, listening to her words, and then the kiss upon his cheek.
He reached up to touch the place her lips had lit upon moments later, staring at her as though he could not believe she had done such a thing. Swallowing hard over the lump that had risen in his throat, the boy looked down at his lap, color rising in his cheeks without being asked. "Thank you," he whispered, fingers still pressed to his cheek, as though he might preserve the kiss, that moment, forever. "Thank you," he said again, looking back up at her, meeting her gaze, and then in a burst of confidence, he moved forward, his hand against the floor, and he returned the gesture, dry lips to her cheek in what he imagined passed for a kiss.