nine; perfect
For him, she had always been the very epitome of perfectness. The first time he saw her, she was singing a melody he can't quite decipher at first, and until now, had trouble remembering. But he can still recall her face, how she closed her eyes and just felt. She was not singing for the money or the fame, but for the sake of indulging in her passion. She loves it, so she does it. He felt like such a creep, managing to dig up deeper meanings from a simple face singing a simple song.
But she was different.
He asked his sister about her. She told him that her name is Hatsune Miku. He thought that it was perfect for her, feeling a momentary surge of relief and satisfaction for having finally been given a name for that girl whose haunting melodies never quite left his mind. Her voice was soft, too high pitched, maybe, but it was fine. It suited her image, kind and angelic. He liked to think that their voices match, and tried singing along softly whenever he hears her, but immediately stops. He felt that he was disrespecting her by doing that.
Her aquamarine eyes had always captivated him, for he shared that same color, but in different shades. Just by that, he felt a connection forming between them. She had teal hair and always, he chastised himself for even entertaining the thought that it was dyed. She was not like that. She was natural, through and through. He felt stupid for defending a girl he does not really know, and so, he told himself: why not learn about her? Why not study her likes and dislikes?
The journey to knowing Hatsune Miku was a difficult and often, embarrassing task. Not because he was ashamed of her, of declaring his fancy over her, but for admitting that yes, he did not know a single thing about her aside from the obvious. He berated himself, thinking that he should have observed more and more and more. He felt like a laughing stock, other people probably thought he was stupid, fake.
But he learned. And what he did learned made him love her all the more. Yes, love. He fell in love with the teal-haired girl singing that weird song he coincidentally heard while waiting for the train. He wondered if it is natural to love someone this much over a span of a few weeks. His friends had drifted away from him, ultimately giving up hope to reach out to the boy they one knew and shared sentimental moments with. What he was now was exact replica, but like all imitations, could not replace the true value of the original.
Many had left him.
But when asked if he could got back into the past and change their meeting, he would be appalled, would be disgusted at the thought of even turning away from her.
She had become his life, and constantly, his every thought had been invaded by her presence, and he longed to hold her in his arms, but was too self-loathing. He did not deserve her. She could have someone better than the average guy that he is.
That didn't made him stop. No, he loved her, and would continue to love her. And on the off chance that she would notice him and feel for him the same way he does for her, he would be content, ecstatic. This had become his greatest wish. To be able to be by her side freely and defend her from those who insult her. They were wrong. She was perfect. She was good. She existed to radiate happiness.
She was real.
She was the one he fell for.
She was a thousand steps away from him, and he tried so hard to catch up, to be merely an inch away from her. And he would continue. Because that's what love makes you do. Love makes you blind, blurring the lines between right and wrong, real and imagination, beauties and faults, just to please your significant other. This was no different and he was okay with that.
Never mind that she was a singing voice synthesizer.
