Being in a world filled with magic and super powers had its perks; there were things like never melting ice cream, 100% accurate weather forecasts, and a general feeling of hope and excitement for the future. It was great, but every good thing had bad things to counteract it.

For example, I'm a blessing and a curse. I'm a blessing to everyone around me, but I'm my own worst nightmare.

I try not to think about it too much, but it's kind of impossible not to notice the way almost everyone's eyes follow me wherever I go; just in this Starbucks alone there's at least five people continuously looking my direction. It's not like I want this 'gift'. I wouldn't even call it that. How would you feel if every single person saw you as their ideal significant other?

I don't mean that everyone gets feelings of interest from being around me, I mean my literal appearance is different for everyone. I'm everyone's dream guy. That girl I passed on the street who's eyes widened upon seeing me? Probably saw some fit, blond, surfer dude. The gay guy next to me on the bus that was trying his best to get my attention? Probably saw some tall, dark, and handsome man with incredible fashion sense. You heard me correctly, even my choice of clothes doesn't matter.

People see what they want to see in me, and that, is never actually me.

I let out a sigh, looking out the window of the Starbucks at the busy city just on the other side of the glass. My 'gift' was a constant reminder of the painful truth that no one ever wanted me; that could seriously mess up your mind.

"Sir?"

Blinking out of my thoughts, I look up to see the barista I'd given my drink order to. He was smiling a little nervously, looking hopeful. "Yes?"

"I was wondering if perhaps, I could sit here?" he asks before gesturing to the otherwise filled booths. "I'm on my break, but I've nowhere to sit. This is the only table with an empty seat."

I bit my tongue to stop myself from pointing to the outside seating, knowing he's probably have some excuse for why he couldn't sit there prepared. I nod and he grins wider as he slides into the booth across from me. Seeing as we were going to be seated together for some time, I take a moment to look at him.

His name tag read 'Roman', a handsome name for a handsome person. He was; the slight waves of his milk chocolate colored hair fell perfectly on his head and shown like caramel when the sun shifted and landed on them through the window. His eyes shimmered and sparkled a warm amber-brown. I felt a little warmth spreading through my chest just looking at them, which was odd.

I never really let myself fantasize about romance. No one would ever love me for me, so why would I even try to find someone to love? My thoughts reminded me of the fact that Roman the barista was looking at me with wide and awed eyes.

"Well..." I say, raising my eyebrow as I sighed. It was unusual that someone actually acted on their attraction to me. "Let me take a guess, hmm... I would guess you're probably into guys with black hair, blue eyes, who wear cute clothes. How close was I?"

He scowled, looking confused. "Huh?"

"My appearance, how close did I get?" I say, rolling my eyes. Roman still looked confused, and it then occurred to me that he might never have heard of my 'gift' before. I sighed again, looking down at my drink. "I've got a gift, you know? My appearance changes to whatever someone's most ideal person looks like."

His mouth formed an 'o' as he looked down at the table. "So... that's why a lot of people are looking at you?" he asked. "You look like the perfect person to them?"

I nod, wishing I hadn't said anything. "Yeah, that guy in the back? Probably sees my hair as blue, and I'm probably a biker," I say, nodding to him. "I'm usually really good at guessing what people see in me. Like the chick behind you probably thinks I'm a jock with great hair."

"So, no one knows what you actually look like except you?" Roman asks, connecting the dots on his own.

I nod, shrugging; I don't like talking about it, but he asked, so I couldn't exactly just drop the conversation now. "So how close was I to guessing what I look like to you?" I ask, trying to keep my voice light and amusing.

"Pretty far off, you have brown hair, and the tips are purple," he says.

My heart drops and my smugness falters. That... that was an accurate description of my actual hair. I swallowed and arched my eyebrow at him to try and cover my slip up. "You're pretty pale, and your hair covers your eyes a little, so I can't really see what color they are clearly, but they look brown," he continues. I feel heart rate increasing. "You also have black eye shadow beneath your eyes, and you have this cool black hoodie with purple flannel patches."

"H-How-"

"Oh! I think there are some freckles on your cheeks!" Roman then giggles, grinning. "You're really adorable to me!"

I flush for a few different reasons, my mind racing and my heart hammering in my chest. He knew. He knew what I looked like. What I looked like. I've never told anyone. I've never shown anyone pictures because they'd never believe me. I'd come to terms with the fact that no one wanted me.

Tears start to drip from my eyes, making the barista gasp and look concerned. "Oh gosh! Did I say something wrong?!" he asks worriedly.

"N-No one's ever..." I stammer, reaching up to wipe my eyes, furious with myself for breaking down in public. "No one's e-ever wanted me... I'm always perfect when I'm not me... but you want me. You want me the way I am... I j-just..."

I continue to sniffle and hiccup through my tears as Roman seems to understand. His expression drops into one of sadness and sympathy as he stands and moves around to sit next to me. I don't resist when he pulls me into his arms. "Oh gosh... I'm so sorry, it must be so terrible to feel like no one wants you," he murmurs, shaking his head at the thought. I nod into his chest in agreement as he continues. "I'm so sorry you've been made to feel like you weren't good enough, or that you were unwanted. I'm so sorry. I want you. I want you, Virgil."

"H-How'd you-"

"You told me when I made your coffee," he points out, chuckling a little as my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "It's okay, and Virgil? I think you're really freaking perfect to me."

I can't help it when I grin and a few more joyful tears slip down my face. I let myself cuddle further into his embrace, not even caring about the people that were definitely looking my way. If Roman was looking, that's all that mattered to me.