Star-Crossed

Author: SweetThing

Chapter: Prolouge "Perfect"

Disclaimer: Yeah, that's right, I own everything. Everything! It's all mine. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a flying pig and a frozen over underworld outside that I have to attend to. 

Author's Note: Alright, first off, no, I am in no way abandoning Narcissus. That's my first priority story-wise. But I've had this idea floating around for a while now, and inspiration struck. I would love to know what you guys think. This is a bit confusing at first, but the prolouge is kind of meant to be. I'll tell you this: this story will involve four main characters: Jess, Brad, Paris, and Rory.

Dedications: Elise, my awesome beta who listened to me ramble on about this for at least a half hour the other day.

They were perfect, she said.

That was shortly after their first date.

We're meant to be, he said.

That was upon the occasion of their three-month anniversary.

It's destiny, she said. Well, that's what she would've said if she used trite and sugar-coated phrases that ultimately meant nothing, what with the world we live in today.

It was fate. It had to be fate, he decided. They had been dating for almost a year, and he was happy. He was content. He felt as if that missing piece, that link he needed to feel complete, was finally making its presence known.

He felt like he could settle. No, take that back. He actually wanted to settle for the first time in his life. With her. She grounded him, brought him back from wherever he had strayed. Gently. He, in turn, responded to the soft parts of her with ease. That part of her that had expanded as she got older, at first only reserved for boyfriends and the few people she let into her life.

They balanced each other out. He couldn't imagine being with anyone else. Yet, he couldn't say they were "perfect" together. Because that would be too good to be true, right? It was impossible, especially given the obstacle of all people being flawed and everything. But somehow, they…they just worked. Whenever he thought about them, a few words came to mind. Syncopation was one of them. They fit. They went well together. Nobody could quite explain it but the two of them.

But now he was afraid.

Because he was starting to forget the reasons.

Because it didn't feel the same when they kissed, when they lay down together to go to bed. When they just were.

And it was his entire fault. If only he hadn't done this. If only he would've kept his hormones in check. If only she hadn't wanted this temporary parting of the ways.

If only she hadn't looked at him like that.

His mind was racing, swimming with "what if's" and various other pretenses, gut wrenching questions that involved why, how, when. The last thing he wanted to do was answer them. Because that would bring light to his greatest fear of all.

That they really were perfect.

Free of flaws, pristine, unscratched, untarnished. A model for other couples. Always happy, never fighting.

And completely non-existent.

Yes, that was what had been keeping him up at night. Ever since he had had to be without her for so long, he had analyzed it down to the bone. He didn't know what else to do. She did things like that to him. Except this time, she hadn't done anything.

He had done this to himself.

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