A Flawed Perfection

By DxDevlin

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Duke Devlin

Summary: Duke Devlin's real name is Bukerye, just like every man in his family for centuries. His family was cursed with the gift of perfection, a curse that was out to destroy him. With the descendent of their curser right under his nose, he can destroy it, right? But things aren't always what they seem…

Chapter 3:

Irony

Perfection. That's what Duke needed. And had. Yet whenever he was handed back a graded exam, quiz, or even a worksheet, he was always tense with anxiety. The thumping of his heart was audible to his ears; his knuckles twitched restlessly on the desk. His guts squirmed and squealed with impatience. Every millisecond seemed perpetual.

"Nervous, Mr. Devlin?" The weary-eyed old man with glasses hanging on his nose smiled faintly. He handed Duke a 2-page test. In big, fat, red letters was the number '100'. Of course; as always. Duke could not even remember ever not getting anything below perfect. Yet it was sickening, in a way. Waiting for his work to be given back and already knowing that it would be perfect was a nauseating experience. It seemed as if he was always waiting for that imperfect score. If he got below 100, a burden would seemingly be lifted off his shoulders, yet it would be a horrible experience.

"A hundred again?" a tiny whisper from behind him asked.

"Yeah" was the answer, along with a nod. But Duke didn't even bother to look back. It was another one of those girls.

"Class, I'm going to give you your grade sheets. They won't include any extra credit work, but they're the grades that will go onto your interims."

Duke winced. He loathed grade sheets more than anything. The very first one he had ever received was in 5th grade, and he had smirked in arrogant pride as he paraded his straight 100's around the room. As his pile of grade sheets began to pile up, however, the straight lines of repetitive 1's and 0's began to trigger a feeling within him that he couldn't quite explain. It wasn't a good 'couldn't quite explain,' though.

"Come up and get yours when I call your name… Miguel, Clayton, Vanessa, Dylan, Duke…"

Duke knew exactly how many grades there were going to be and what each grade was going to be. His heart nevertheless thumped. How could he feel at all uneasy, he thought. It was like he was waiting in line to find out what 2 plus 2 was and still feeling jittery that one way or another it could end up being 3.

He picked up the rectangular sheet of paper. It was as he expected: 15 grades; 3 tests, 4 quizzes, 8 worksheets. Every single line was in perfect unison; straight 1's and two columns of straight 0's. He sighed in relief and in agony. He crumpled up the sheet of paper as the bell rang and sullenly walked out of the room.

"Duke!" Sayce stuck out his hand in midair. Duke high-fived him wearily. Suddenly, he began to notice Sayce's other hand. It was fiddling with something in the air. Except that there was nothing in the air but the air itself.

"The Enlightened Masters…" Duke thought to himself. Yet some vigor within him drove him to say the two words out loud. Perhaps it was the fact that he was feeling the ill effects of his perfection. Perhaps it was the fact that these effects were supposedly created by Sayce's granduncle. It didn't matter why though, because Sayce had heard it.

"What'd you say?" Sayce asked, now facing Duke with a wrathful face.

"Nothin'. Nothin', man."

"No, no, don't you nothin' me. Tell me, what'd you say?" Sayce was furious now.

"Nothin'. Serious, nothin'."

Then Sayce shoved Duke squarely in the chest. Duke was caught off balance and staggered backwards for a second, but only for a second. In another instant he was smiling back a challenge. He shoved Sayce back, his fingertips bouncing off Sayce's chest.

In another instant, the two boys were fighting. It began with Sayce's cuff to Duke's face with the outside of his fist. It wasn't meant to be a punch, just a scratch. But it didn't matter. In another instant, the two were on the floor, clawing away at each other's faces like beasts. Duke had closed his eyes; despite his rage, he had enough sense to know that he didn't want his eyeballs torn out. He just kicked and scratched and thumped and clawed.

…but details aren't necessary.

The students hovering around them now chanted, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" School administrators huffed and puffed as they were forced to disrupt their work to break up the fight. In another instant, the two boys were sent home, suspended for a week. It was a private school and strict discipline was required, so involvement in even the tiniest fights resulted in at least a week's detention.

"What the f –, aww, whatever, forget it, man…" Duke's voice trailed off. They were walking back home because their parents had been contacted but refused to leave work, so the two were allowed to go home unsupervised.

"Yeah, forget it. I mean, let's just forget about this whole thing…you know?" Sayce only stared at the ground. He had not even glanced at Duke since the fight.

"How?" was Duke's reply.

Sayce sighed. "Exactly," was his reply.

"Awww… I don't get it thought…what was so terrible about what I said?"

Sayce sighed again and mumbled a few 'geez's'. "Geez, I dunno. I mean, yeah, I do know. But I don't why I got so angry. It's just…I mean….WHY'D YOU EVEN SAY THAT, ANYWAY?"

Duke halted in surprise. Sayce had practically muttered the first part of the sentence and was suddenly bawling.

"Calm down," Duke whispered between gritted teeth. "The whole town's gonna hear you." He paused and decided to let it go. "Anyway, my parents talked about these people called 'Enlightened Masters' last night, and what you were doing with your hands made me think of it. That's all."

It was Sayce who halted this time. "Oh," he replied. "Right. Whatever."

Duke had seen it all, in the halt, the look of embarrassment, and the 'whatever.'

"So you're one of them, aren't you?" Duke asked. He was staring intently into Sayce's eyes.

"Whatever, man." Sayce broke into a run. Duke yelled 'wait up!' a few times and finally caught up. Sayce was ignoring him, just running. Sprinting, actually. Duke stopped stubbornly. He was sick of putting it off.

"Sayce!" he yelled furiously. "You cursed me! That Dilan Lasquar guy, he put some crazy curse on me that's ruining my life, and you're off running, afraid of some little thing that I don't know! Why don't you face me like a man? Can't tell secrets, can you? Well screw you! You know that? Screw you!"

Only then did Sayce stop.

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Oooo….cliffhanger, huh? Well sorry if it is…I need some inspiration next chapter so I can start somewhere.