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17 June 2004 @ 01:00 pm
 
A Perfect Match
Pairing: Benji/Idaho Guy
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened.
Summary: Benji looks for his perfect match.
Notes: Originally written for a complementary colours challenge eons ago.



Benji dyed his hair that ungodly yellow colour on a Tuesday afternoon when no one was home. He had no one to persuade to go out dancing with him or to grab a drink at Jack's. He had a plan in mind; it wasn't just 'ugly, desperate hairdressing' as Patrick so harshly put it.

When he saw the finished job in the mirror, he had beamed because it was yellow (pure yellow, and nothing short; none of that tint, or pastels). He needed to go to the gym, needed to make the rounds at Jack's, and if it had to be with Taylor just to hear about his latest forays with his 'long term relationship', then so be it.

He was proud of his hair.

Because it was yellow, and because the complement to that yellow was purple.

It was perfect, and anyone had to admit it. The official colour of the gay man, Howie could tell you, was purple. None of that rainbow crap, and Benji had always associated that with those little unicorns that pre-teen girls fawned over. No, it was purple; the colour of the gay man, the colour that painted the flag of their nation was a shade deeper than lavender and tasted like wild berries.

So then, by all rights, with his new yellow hair, all Benji had to do was find a boyfriend who embodied the purple. He had to find someone who was purple.

"Why don't you just hook up with Purple Guy?" Dennis cracked one evening at dinner, giggling over his own joke. Benji fixed him with a distasteful and snotty look as he haughtily took a bite of his pasta.

"Because, you fag, I don't feel like breaking up a relationship," Benji shot back before taking a sip of water but after eating the strand of fettuccine.

"Jesus, and you had to dye your hair that colour to make this statement?" Howie murmured, sinking into his seat a little further as his eyes traversed around the restaurant. "I bet you that half the people in here are staring at it."

"No, that'd be you and your incredible attempts to vanish, you queer," Patrick rolled his eyes, and lightly smacked Howie in the arm. "Could you at least sit normally?"

Benji couldn't find anyone though. He wasn't like Cole; he couldn't just meet someone and immediately charmed the pants off of him. Benji needed to get to know them, and to find an inner secret. And so, when he found Idaho Guy, he prayed that as he got to know him that he would turn out to be purple.

But he wasn't.

Idaho Guy was a gym bunny through and through, and that painted a gray sheen in Benji's mind. Or maybe it was just the drugs. They had a wiping effect on Benji that seemed to take his world and wring it through the washer before returning it to normal, a shade duller than it had previously been.

He tried desperately to look for purple everywhere. He looked for it in the people that walked down the streets, in his friends, and even in the people who worked in jobs around him every day. When he folded jeans at Structure, he saw the same thing. Beige. When he walked down the street, he saw a passive indifference that was painted with red. He saw distrust and green sick in the eyes of his friends when he dared to look.

He couldn't find his purple, and it made him want to scream.

One day, he almost took brown hair dye to his hair, but his boyfriend (his beloved gray Idaho Guy) had come over with some drugs, and all notions for that day had gone done the drain in a flurry of highs and fucks.

His complementary purple had never seemed further away in his life. He had devoted all his time to his gym-bunny boyfriend; to a man who was expressly what he wasn't looking for, and who knew where his very own Purple Man might be out there in the world.

He had to make it his mission. He had to find a way to find his complement, no matter what the cost was, and Benji was stubborn in that way. He knew it could happen.

And then Jack died.

And his world went black.

THE END