Karin-chan: Yay! I'm back with another Kevin/Gwen/Ben oneshot. This is for Kawaii Jen who requested a oneshot from Gwen's point of view. I hope you like it.
Title: Imperfection
Rating: Teen
Genre: General
Pairings: Ben/Gwen, Kevin/Gwen, Kevin/Gwen/Ben
Warnings: slight adult language and OOC Gwen
Disclaimer: Don't own Ben10 and never will sadly. Because if I did, there would be a lot of BenxGwen or have the show develops into a major love triangle between Kevin, Gwen, and Ben.
Imperfection
Her fingers once again pressed down on the wrong keys in frustration. Her emerald eyes glared down at them as if they were the cause of all her misery in life. Her mouth was set in a tight line as her fingers were still and her body rigid.
"Again"
With a look of determination, she had once again lifted her fingers and began to play the tune required for her to play. Her fingers moved along with the music as her muscles relaxed into her passion. She had begun to lose herself in her melody once more, but the wrong key destroyed her trance all over again.
"Again"
Counting to ten, she had started the melody once more, only to have it slip out of her grasps as quickly as it came.
"Again"
Her fingers were aching from the constant playing, but she ignored them for her instructor. As told, she had pressed on the keys again; however, the constant abuse on her fingers slowed her reaction time gaining a disapproving look from her instructor.
"That's enough for today. We'll try again tomorrow," the older woman told her. Her heels made a clicking sound against the tiled floor as she proceeded to stride out the door away from the young girl.
The pianist just stayed where she was sitting on the bench of the piano. Without words, she knew full well her instructor wanted her to stay and practice until she got it right.
No, until she got it perfect.
In silence, she had raised her hands with her eyes closed. They gently placed themselves on the all too familiar keys as her shoulders relaxed. She knew them. She knew the keys like the back of her hand. She knew them, as they were second— no— first nature to her and her musical talents.
Softly, she had begun the music again.
Her fingers continued their dance on the dance floor known as the piano keys. It was a dance filled with passion, loveliness, and purity.
It was filled with perfection.
The wrong key was not an option, but yet, it was occurring every time. Her fingers froze as the melody crashed by one simple note. An imperfect note.
Perfection was not Imperfection.
Despite her aching fingers, she tortured herself into playing again and again. This passion filled dance with so much purity and innocence thrown into it. She knew that even if her fingers bled, she couldn't stop for she had just begun.
Begun to wash the Imperfection from the piece.
It had to be perfect. The keys. The notes. The melody. None of it can afford a mistake. It had to be perfect for if it was not perfect, it was imperfect.
Imperfection was not an option.
Her fingers did not corporate with her. They were constantly choosing the wrong notes. The imperfect notes.
They were showing her imperfection.
She had to be perfect. Her imperfection must not be shown to others. Her imperfection was dirty. It was impure. It was disgusting.
She was disgusting because she was imperfect.
It must be perfect. She must be perfect. Showing imperfection was not an option.
Imperfection deemed her filthy.
She was dirty. No, she was filthy. Her imperfection made her filthy. No matter how many times she washed herself, she still saw the imperfection in the mirror.
Imperfection was wrong. It was not accepted amongst society.
She felt her fingers begin to shake with convulsions. The aching continued as did her playing. Her imperfect playing.
Imperfection would not gain her acceptance. Her imperfection would not gain her love.
Imperfection would not gain her heart's desire.
Her fingers had stopped playing the notes as she froze in mid thought. Heart's desire. What was her heart's desire?
It is to be perfect, she told herself, and without perfection, she is not clean.
But there must be a reason to be perfect, her conscience argued. Why do you want to be perfect? Why do you want to be accepted for someone you're not?
Doesn't everyone? She asked herself bitterly. Her fingers didn't start playing for her thoughts preoccupied her actions. I'm not the only one who's wearing a façade.
What's the point of wearing a mask? No one will like you if you don't even like yourself. Her mother had told her this thousand of times, but the woman was no different from her. She did not want imperfection.
She didn't want a filthy imperfect daughter.
She had to be perfect. She had to erase the imperfection. She had to hide the dirty filthy vision in the mirror. The ugly vision in the mirror.
The ugly her.
Her imperfection was ugly. She was ugly. She was dirty. She was filthy. She was impure.
She was the definition of imperfection.
The clock chimed eleven at night, but the melody did not cease. The imperfection did not fade. It had only increased.
Dry blood from her fingers laid on the piano keys. They shook with aching and tiredness, but the orange haired girl did not pay it heed. Sacrifices must be made for perfection.
Sacrifices must be made to rid her of imperfection.
Her emerald eyes examined the piece that she had memorized so many times. It felt strange, like looking at it for the first time. The piece was complicated, played by many great pianists.
Many perfect pianists. All of which are not her for she is imperfect.
Her family would be ashamed of her imperfection. Her friends would scorn her for it. Her parents would spit at her for it. She was dirty. Not at all deserving of such kindness from them.
Her Grandfather would tell her otherwise, she found, but she could tell it was false. He was ashamed of her for being imperfect inside. He did not want a granddaughter who was imperfect. No one wants someone who is imperfect.
Imperfection would not gain her love.
She examined the piece again. Something didn't feel right. It was not the physical discomfort that bothered her, but more like something inside. As if it was an annoying knat that would not leave her be.
Her thoughts then took this chance to interfere with her imperfect playing.
She was not thinking correctly, she realized. She should not think of her tainted self while playing a pure piece. She needed to think of other things that would achieve her perfection.
Imperfection would not play a Perfected piano piece.
She must think of something perfect. Something that satisfies her heart's lusting desires. This piece will not be played if she continues to think of her ugly imperfect self.
For she was not perfect and you don't think of imperfection when playing for perfection.
She took her aching fingers holding the piece and placed the paper in her bag. Perfection needed to wait until she found her perfection. If she does not find perfection, she cannot play perfection.
Her fingers—despite the aching and dried blood—had heard her calling and placed themselves on the keys. They will play for her. They will taint the piano keys with her imperfection. They will play a piece from the heart and not the paper.
They will turn imperfection into perfection.
They will find her perfection.
And with that thought, she had begun to play as her mind took her to her perfection.
She saw brown hair and amber-green eyes shining with arrogance and hot-headedness, yet still filled with so much emotion it made her heart burst.
He was brave and always thought about others when it accounted for it. He had the ability to make her laugh. To make her feel things she never thought she would.
His smirking face always made her want to kill him or to kiss him from the frustration and excitement he puts her through. His adventurous nature and mischievousness reminded her of a fox, as he knows trickery, artifice, and how to get what he wants.
Truly perfect in his own way. His body shined with perfection. His actions shined with the perfection of a hero, as he was supposed to be and what destiny put him to be. The Perfect Hero.
The perfect hero and the imperfect pianist.
The perfect cousin and the imperfect cousin.
Her mind switched to another. Black hair and black coal eyes. His loner nature and smugness showing others he was not one to be messed with. He constantly wanted dominance and wanted control over others and yet, she embraced her wild side when she was near him.
He was the more darker side of the puzzle. While the other was a hero, he was the villain. And yet, he also shines with perfection. He is not afraid and doesn't hides behind others. He does not depend on others.
The perfect villain and the imperfect pianist.
The perfect enemy and the imperfect enemy.
At first, she hated him, she realized. He was a nuisance who always out shined her in everything. He was perfect. Imperfection was nowhere to be found no matter how hard she tried to expose him.
She teased him and made him feel bad to make her feel better. To help her deal with her imperfection, but the deeds only made her more ugly and imperfect.
Her opinion on his perfection soon changed from hatred to tolerance. She had realized that since her useless imperfect self would not outshine his perfection, she would stick by him to satisfy her needs to be perfect.
Then came that charm. The charm that made her perfect, that made her pure. She had become perfect by being Lucky Girl. She was perfect. It felt so good to reach that perfection.
But soon after, she still was not perfect she realized. She was still tainted. She still saw the ugly her in the mirror. The charm was useless. It did not make her perfect so it wasn't necessary to her thereby making her smash it and its counterparts.
It seemed perfection was out of her reach.
But if it was out of her reach, how did she feel so perfect when he had told her she did a good job. Her heart and breathing sped up and in that one moment, she felt like all the filth was washed away from her. All the imperfection was gone. She had tape recorded the saying just so she could get that feeling again and again. Anything to rid her of her imperfection.
The tape recorder did not work she found. It did not make her perfect. It made her imperfect even more. She needed to hear it from his lips and not some tape recorder. She made it her vow to be around him all the time just to rid of her imperfection.
Soon, she became obsessed with him. Desperately trying to get him to rid her of imperfection. Anything would satisfy. Arguing. Laughing. Smiling. Anything from him to rid her of her flaws.
The obsession began to wonder, she noticed. Soon, she had not just become obsessed with his very being. His smile. His arrogance. His mischief. His desire to be a hero. Everything about him made her heart pound for more and more perfection.
However, when she had felt almost to the point of perfection, the feeling slipped out of her tainted grasps. It was all because of her, Kai. Kai had made his attention wander to her. She took away her only chance of achieving perfection with her own.
He was such a puppy for the perfect girl. He constantly bugged her to get the perfect girl to notice him. Her mind boiled as she let out a low growl he did not hear. Her perfection was going away all because of Kai!
Nevertheless, she did not even reach perfection in the first place. She was tainted as ever. Her imperfect mind and evil self told her to just tell him off and that he should be making her perfect, but she fought against it. She wasn't going to be perfect so why make the blow even worse.
She did everything in her power to have her perfection get with his perfection, but the perfect girl clearly thought she was too perfect for her perfection. This made her angry. She yelled at the girl and told her that he was more perfect than she'll ever be.
Her obsession did not diminish at all. Time passed and she was once again striving for perfection. Perfection was her goal for if she was not perfect, she was imperfect.
And no one will accept imperfection.
But oh God, how hard it was to keep up the act every time she got near him. So close that she could hold his perfect self to her tainted body. Pressing them together as one, but yet she held herself every time. In fear of being noticed for her imperfection.
It was exceptionally hard on that one night in the RV. He did not know how to dance for the wedding reception next day so she had decided to help his perfection to increase.
But when he held her. Looked into her eyes. It was so difficult and agonizing not to get lost in them. To not relax into his embrace and stay like that forever. It felt so good to be with him like that.
However, her imperfection halted her. She would taint him. Her horrible body with his perfect one was not a good combination. He needed someone who was perfect. Someone who would not taint his perfection. Like that girl he danced with at the reception. She was perfect; he needed to be with someone who was perfect. She would stay in the background in imperfection.
No matter how much it was killing her inside.
He was her enemy so naturally she had to hate him. He tried to hurt her perfection. He tried to take away her perfection forever. There actually came a time when he almost succeeded too.
She had stepped in front of her wounded perfection. Protecting him from the other boy. She stood there with her imperfection daring him to try anything. But now that she looks back on it, she realizes that perhaps she also stepped in was to show her opponent that she was perfect. That she had achieved perfection and wasn't useless to anyone.
It was a lie for she was always the soul of imperfection.
However, once she got into the battle, she was once again faced with more perfection. Her enemy may have been considered a freak to many, but she could tell, she knew that he was also in the place known as perfection.
His loner and badass attitude attracted her to him. Her imperfection screamed for more perfection. She found that the hero alone was not enough to make her feel perfection.
Even in the times when only one of her perfections was there, she felt him. His vengeance for her other perfection coursing through his veins. She felt both of them with their perfection. She longed for that perfection.
He had come back again. This time, he took her away from her perfection. She was angered by this. She did not want one perfection. She wanted them both together so she could feel her perfection.
He took her to a warehouse where she had sat away from him in anger. Her steaming mind was interrupted by her conscience. This is your chance, it told her, to feel somewhat perfection with your other perfection.
She had talked to him. She wanted him to open up to her she realized. She soon found that her desire to be perfect was wavering to the desire of wanting to be with him for him. Just like she felt with her other perfection. Both were her obsessions and both were her desires of her tainted soul.
Her other perfection arrived. They were both here and fighting. She found herself not wanting this. But isn't this what she wanted? To have them together so she could feel perfect?
No, she realized. She wanted them holding her. Kissing her. Making love to her. Not fight with each other and trying to kill the other in rage.
It was over and both were spared. Her first perfection and she left her other perfection until the time where she longed for them to be all together again.
Her obsession for perfection was wandering to an obsession for love.
She couldn't be without either of them, she knew. If she lost one, she would die. If she lost both, she would die and live for eternity in Hell. She couldn't be without them. Even if she could not be with them. She couldn't be without their presence in her life.
She had come close to losing them. She had almost died trying to save her first perfection from his death. She was reunited with him. He embraced her and for once, she forgot about the worries of tainting him and merged their body into one despite the feeling of missing her second perfection and longing him to be with them embracing her as well.
She longed for them both. She wanted them equally and did not choose a favorite. They were apart of her inside the deep recesses of her mind. She could not rid them.
Nor does she want to.
Her emerald eyes snapped open in surprise. Her fingers were still on the piano as her convulsions on her body stopped. Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest as she had come to the realization of her desire for perfection.
Her heart's desire was them, she realized. She wanted to be perfect for them. She wanted to be with them.
Her perfection was always them and always will be them, she knew this now.
The clock chimed one in the morning startling her out of her musings. Her parents are probably worried for her. She should be heading home to them despite her imperfection, but she made no move from the piano. She made no sound as she sat still on the bench.
Again, she told herself.
And with that thought in her head. She had raised her hands, no longer filled with convulsions and uneasiness of her tainting the keys, but with confidence and impassiveness to tainting her passion.
Now, she began to play.
The melody floated throughout the room. It was filled with so much emotion that the young pianist got lost in its pure passion. Its passion drove her into the state of bliss.
She thought of them all the while. She thought about their faces, their personalities, their moments together both good and bad. Everything about them made her heart beat speed up and her body shiver with pleasure.
She played with pent up passion of fire and yet just as much gentleness of water. She played with darkness of the night and light of the day. She played with so much life in her that it could make the dead walk again from the beautiful melody.
She felt them. As if they were here right now. Touching her. Holding her. Kissing her. It felt so good to have them with her. He body screamed out in ecstasy from the pleasure of them. Her body felt like it was on fire and yet she was not burned.
Her fingers responded by playing with perfection. The emotion made her heart burst from all the passion and gentleness in her love of the piano. This is what she lived for, the pleasures of the music and perfection of the music.
She felt their perfected bodies press against her imperfect one. She heard their whispers in the wind and their presence like a ghost in the room. She felt as if they were there right now, and yet she was the only one in the room playing her dance.
Her body was in a state of pleasure from both the music and her perfections. She let out a soft moan, as she imagined— no—felt their bodies and hers together. Merging their perfection with her imperfection.
She knew she was tainting them. Tainting them even with only her dirty thoughts, but she couldn't stop the obsession that started. She wanted them. She needed them.
At first, it was just to satisfy her imperfection. Her needs, but now, it was something greater. She wanted to be with them. She wanted to be by their sides for all eternity.
She wanted them to see that even if she was imperfect, she loved them.
Her fingers had stopped, but not because they had touched an imperfect note, but because they had finished their dance with perfection.
Her perfection.
Yes, she was imperfect, but now she sees.
Imperfection is perfection.
Her imperfection is perfection.
Karin-chan: Okay! There it is! Sorry it wasn't as good as "Unattainable" but it's kind of hard to do things from Gwen's point of view all the time. But I'm very proud of myself for this.
So, what do you guys think? Was it worth reading? Did it somewhat satisfy your desire for KevinxGwenxBen? Let me know if you guys want another one of these love triangle oneshots because I have other ideas coming.
See ya, and I hope you liked it Kawaii Jen because this was for you
PLEASE REVIEW!!!!