On The Bright Side
There's nothing quite like it, really, and that's the only way I can think of to say it.
It's peculiar, peculiar in that quiet sort of way that things tend to be. It's the sort of peculiar that only you notice, and that, to you, sticks out blatantly like a sore thumb at a piano recital. It's the most obvious thing in the world, staring everyone in the face, pointing, laughing, shirking, and yet, naturally, only one person ever seems to notice it. It's the sort of peculiar that is the annoying kind, as well, because as obvious as it is to you it completely sails over everyone else's head. No one notices, no one questions it; no one wastes their time thinking about it like you do.
In a way, really, I suppose that's sort of a good thing.
I guess it's sort of a good thing that no one else notices the way they seem to fit together. I suppose in the long run it's quite in my favor that no one else notices this plainly stated fact of life or that no one else is analyzing things the way I am. I realize that it's to my advantage no one else has poured this much thought into it – after all, why would they? – and I realize that I'm probably making a mountain out of a molehill.
I can't help but notice, though. It's really quite obvious.
They make sense. They make the kind of sense teachers talk about - strict, logical, and easy to figure out, easy to see. They make the mathematical kind of sense, the kind of sense where it all clicks into place and all the loose ends are tied up. With them, all the bases are covered. There's no if ands or buts, with them.
They're two of a kind, really. They're both the quiet, studious type. Both of them are the type who, on a perfectly sunny day, will curl up inside and stick their nose in a book, as opposed to darting outside first chance they get and wreaking havoc. They're both very bright; both do well on tests, but not due to some sort of dumb luck. They work hard to earn every single hundred, study for weeks, practice and practice and practice in order to make perfect.
They both think they have something to prove. They're both up against the odds; they're both a minority, really, and they both recognize that. They both understand that if they want to show what they're capable of and have anybody pay attention they're going to have to be capable of a hell of a lot. They both realize they're swimming against the current, and if they don't invest all their energy into fighting it, the current will win, and they'll be swept downstream, as irrelevant as a passing piece of driftwood.
And, of course, they're both wonderful people. They both have the same strong moral fiber, and they both have a compassion for others. They're both friendly, in a shy sort of way. They both look down for a second when they're complimented, they both smile softly, and they both flush slightly, no matter how worthy of the compliment they are. They're both humble, they're both supportive, and they're both two of the best people you're likely to meet.
I don't really understand how no one else can see that. I don't really understand why no one else sees this, why no one else mentions it, but then again I suppose it's because that's just not something they'd notice. No one else spends time looking at these things because it doesn't matter to anyone else. I suppose it might matter to them, if they knew, but they don't know and I'm not brave enough to be the one to tell them. I'm not that self-sacrificing.
I can't help but be glad, mind you. I admit that there's a subtle pleasure in the fact that I'm the only one who sees it. It's a relief, if you will, because I know that if they saw it then I'd never have a chance with her, and while I already will never have a chance with her it's a lot nicer to know the never is something of my creation. At least, this way, it's my never, instead of theirs.
I'm glad I don't have to see them together, proving just how picture perfect they are. I'm glad I don't have to see them prove over and over again how much they makes more sense than us. I'm glad I don't have to stand on the sidelines and watch, forcing myself to smile because I know that they are perfect.
I'm glad I'm the only one that realizes it. I'm thankful. I'm glad I'm the only one that seems to see how much easier it is for him to talk to her, I'm glad I'm the only one that sees how even though she insists you're as bad as the company you keep she holds him so much higher in regard than she holds me. I'm glad I'm the only one that seems to notice that if this were Hollywood I'd be the third party. If this were Hollywood, I'd be the secondary character who got screwed out of the marriage to make way for the fairytale couple everyone's been rooting for the whole time. If it were Hollywood, I'd be the new fiancé, the new flame that gets extinguished because the old bonfire comes back.
Because that's exactly what would happen, if I weren't the only one to see it. They're perfect, storybook perfect, Hollywood perfect, perfect perfect. They are perfect perfect and I know that we would be the other kind of perfect. We would be the imperfect perfect. We'd be perfect in the way the old favorite stuffed animal, with the rip on one leg, one eye missing and the fur rubbed off is perfect. We'd be velveteen rabbit perfect, not shiny new Steiff teddy-bear perfect.
They are perfect. They both match each other.
On the bright side, they're both oblivious.
Author's Notes: Not a pairing I usually condone, actually, but I was reading a few wonderful one-shots by the author Pantz and this sort of thing sprang to mind. I figured, I've seen so many of these from the other two points of view, why not this one? The third person perspective.
I'd mention who exactly this was, but that's the fun of it, isn't it? Though I suppose if you found this by way of character search you'd already know... Cookies if you guess correctly. I'm hoping it was reasonably obvious.
I'm imagining this would probably occur somewhere around fifth, sixth year... No specific timeline, really. I didn't want to get into specifics.
Reviews are always appreciated. The characters aren't mine – but then again I never named any, did I?
The title, apart from coming from the last line, is in a way derived from the song I'm currently listening to, Mr. Brightside by the Killers. Quite a nice song, actually, and it fits with this fic quite well.