Kibum is far from perfect.

His eyes are nothing like the stars; they don't glow with life and happiness all the time;

His lips only hold a faint resemblance to  pink roses and the soft breath of peonies whispering sweet nothings to the wind;

If his skin be white, then snow would be a thousand times fairer, glistening in the in the light of the winter sun;

If his hair be woven silk, then true silk would be priceless beyond compare, as smooth as peaceful water;

Roses have bloomed in front of Jonghyun's eyes, but such colours are absent from Kibum's cheeks;

When he speaks, Jonghyun is more than delighted to hear him speak, yet he knows soft music weaves a far more pleasing sound;

When Kibum walks, he touches ground, yet that ground does not magically flower nor does it glow in blessing;

And yet, as Kibum looks up at  Jonghyun with his tired, smiling eyes full of love, accented with glitter, with his gloss-covered pink lips, with his pale, pale skin, with his hairspray-marinated hair, with his sharp angled cheeks backstage at their concert, Jonghyun thinks he will never see anyone more imperfectly made just for him.

Kibum is far from perfect, but who needs perfect?