His love. His eyes. The way he walked, the way he spoke, the way he didn't care what people thought him, the way all he ever thought about was me, all of it; all of it seemed to be so perfect. I wouldn't have wanted to change anything about him. Even his flaws. Even though he didn't think things through, even though he couldn't accept other's ideas, even though he didn't care about grades or school, he was perfect. His flaws made him perfect. They made him who he was, who I loved, who everyone got along with. To most he wasn't perfect. When I'd tell them all that he was perfect, I could always expect the reply "Nobody is Perfect." That really isn't true. Technically, no, nobody is perfect. When you're in love all the flaws disapear, though. I loved him wit such deep intensity I'd die for him. He loved me in the same way. All his flaws were flawless.... His perfect flaws.