Ara sank in her seat, eyes fixed intently on the boy standing at the front of the class. He stood tall and thin in his iron-pressed uniform. His dark, smiling eyes stood out starkly against his pale milky skin and his thin lips quirked as he recited his speech, deep voice droning out like silk. He was perfect. The whole blasted presentation was perfect. The entire class was under his spell. He was the pied piper seducing the class with his music and they ate up whatever he said in earnest. Even the teacher seemed to be in a daze. He was going to get an A+, she was sure of it.

For the four years she had been aware of the boy's existence, she had loathed him. Oh Sehun. It was one thing to hear his name but when she saw, for the first time, the boy behind the it, she was compelled to throw a ball of crumpled paper at his beaming face. He merely shrugged it off, chuckling, before picking it up and tossing it into the bin. Of course she was sent to the principal's office but was let off having reasoned that she was really aiming for the rubbish bin but had a "terrible, terrible aim, sir." Since then she has expressed many times in front of everyone her clear aversion of the guy, though no one paid heed. Her peers would simply laugh and shake their heads at silly little Ara.

He's really nice.

He's great and he's friendly, what's not to like? 

Of course he's perfect, that's why we love him.

They never got it. 

She seethed further down into her seat, brows furrowed and scratching at her wooden surface of her desk in an attempt to settle her stomach. There was something oh so disconcerting about the boy. What Ara saw was an artificial echo of a human being; a prototype of what a person ought to be. Try as she might, she could not detect any signs of faulty manufacturing. It made her skin crawl. Without a doubt, she knew that nobody was perfect. But having known close to nothing about Sehun, he seemed so.

He smiled, seemingly towards her, before bowing at the end of his speech, and Ara flinched. The rest of the class applauded but the girl only frowned, deep in thought, her eyes boring into the blackboard in front of her as Sehun made his way to his seat at the back of the class, diagonally behind hers. 

"What a great speech, Sehun," the teacher, Mr Kim, said. "No doubt one of the best we have seen today."

"Thank you, sir," was his modest reply and it was all she could do not to tip her desk over and throw something--anything: her pen, her shoe, her right arm--at him.

For those who didn't know (and that applies to everyone excluding her father and her best friend) Ara detested nothing more than the idea of perfection. The very idea of it and its various manifestations bought about a sense of trepidation into her everyday life and Ara sought to dismantle them every chance she got. The sight of a neatly organised room, of things neatly ordered, meticulously arranged and carefully aligned; of immaculate objects. These things were easy to raze. Every morning she nudged her desk a little to the left, moving it out of alignment with the other desks, she scratched at the board and drew a line on every new page of a book. Easy. As for people, Ara had no idea how to deal with the faultless ones. Specifically Oh Sehun. He unnerved her and any contact they would make, she would shake off brashly.

That afternoon, as Ara was walking home she came across the most peculiar sight. Oh Sehun was crying just outside of her neighbour's house, and whatever preconceived notions that she had of him shattered. She creeped up to him as if he was a ticking time bomb, before stopping short and seeing that nothing about the state he was in that could be defined as perfect. His usually combed and waxed hair was mussed and resembled more of a bird's nest, and his trademark composed face was stained with tears, wrought in pain from where she was standing. It was an ugly mess and it drew her in, like Pandora to the box. Edging closer, she heard the soft sobs that escaped his mouth. 

Remorse washed over her all at once, seeping into her skin and gnawing at her insides. She had felt so relieved when she saw him in this state. Even a little excited. Oh, she was definitely going to come back as a toilet brush in her next life.

"Hey," she called out hesitantly. Upon hearing her voice, the boy flinched and turned away to hide his face. "Are… Is everything ok?" she asked, a good three feet away from him.

"My-m-my rabbit," he stammered, "my rabbit died," he managed to choke out before breaking into more sobs that he desperately tried to stifle. 

hung open as she took in the image before her. He is't perfect at all, she thought as she watched the boy wipe his eyes and straighten his back.

"It's not easy losing someone you love," she called out as he walked off. He stopped but didn't look her way. "But at least they're in a place where they belong." 

Before he could turn to look at her, she had stepped inside her gate, away from his view. She didn't know what compelled her to say what she had said. It didn't even sound right. But she guessed it was all in good comfort. 

They're in a place where they belong.

She frowned. It sounded like she was saying the rabbit deserved to die. Ara groaned as she made her way up the stairs. It wasn't as if she even cared about him on a personal level. Sure his rabbit died, but it had nothing to do with her. And maybe, just maybe he would be less put together tomorrow after school, maybe his perfect attendance would even be flawed for once and she wouldn't feel so sick when she caught a glimpse of him. She couldn't help but feel relieved as she shut her bedroom door.

Yep, definitely a toilet brush.