# Catching Butterflies Chapter 2

~Catching Butterflies: Chapter Two~
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I stare at the cloudy sky above me, sliding my palms against the damp grass that I've been lying on. I'm glad to be home; it's almost as beautiful as I remembered. I lift my head off the ground, supporting myself with my elbows as I look ahead. From the side of this grassy hill, I can see my old neighborhood. My old house. It barely stands out, since every house on this street looks similar. Cheap, middle class houses birthing suburban communities; it's becoming a lot more common nowadays, and the standardization of it all is almost creepy, but that doesn't matter much to me. It takes some getting used to, but most of my only good memories were in this place. Suddenly, I hear rustling from close behind me. Looking up instinctively, I see a green face with a protruding snout and lush hair that breezes lightly in the wind. A bent-over Olivia stares down at me with a gentle smile, and our eyes meet. The sincerity of that expression soothes my soul, and I can't help but smile back. My eyes drift to her revealing tank top.
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Oh, wow. To hide my embarrassed expression, I lower my head and spin myself around to start getting up, hoping she somehow wasn't paying attention. It was pointless, though, as a howling laughter fills the air and mocks me as I try to stand. Using my knees to steady myself against the ground, I look up once again towards Olivia. Still giggling, she zips up her nylon sporting jacket and offers me a hand. Despite those razor sharp claws, I grab it firmly, and she uses her surprising strength to help me to my feet. Taking a moment to brush my jeans off, I do my best to wipe what's left of the embarrassment from my face and speak to her.
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"So.. is it as nice as you remember?"
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Olivia's eyes drift around the neighborhood in response to my question. It's easy to see at least half of it from up here. Her bittersweet smile reverberated her inner thoughts of reflection. I wasn't quite sure when she moved in, or who else she knew besides me; perhaps she's thinking of things I've never done, or people I've never met. As her eyes dart toward me, I can tell she's found her answer. Olivia's always been excited to talk about how she feels.
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"Dude, it's almost perfect! Oh man, you remember that time when we were riding Razor scooters by that one construction zone and you crashed into a mud pit? Or- yeah, when you would never eat the crusts from your sandwich, so I kept stuffing them into a bunch of anthills and they had to call pest control cause there were so many? "
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Recounting some of our adventures with an energetic smile, she could barely stop giggling by the end of it. She reminisced like it was yesterday, those pleasant memories everlasting in her mind. It brought me an unfathomable amount of joy to see the old Olivia again. I knew I wasn't very expressive, but Olivia could always read me like an open book. She was happy, and she knew I was happy. After the laughter died down, I motioned down the hill, back towards the street.
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"You wanna head back down? I kind of want to see the other side o-"
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"Race you down!"
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Without a fraction of a second for me to react, Olivia bolts down the hill, and I'm left in proverbial dust. I know I can never beat her, but my body surges with adrenaline anyway. I practically flung myself down the hill after her, narrowly avoiding falling forwards onto my face. I ran as hard as I could, a feeling of exhilaration filling my lungs as I watched the green blur in front of me speed ahead. She's waiting for me by the time I reach the sidewalk, and as I stop, I notice she's barely broken a sweat in contrast to my own panting. That teasing expression crosses her face once again, shaking her head in faux disappointment.
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Offering me a few pats on the back as I catch my breath, we soon begin to walk down streets of the neighborhood, looking at the houses in passing. Olivia always walks at a faster pace than I do, and she occasionally glances at me as I try to keep up; I can hear the teasing words before they even leave her mouth. To my surprise, she doesn't say anything about it, and continues to regale stories from our childhood. I'm sure I've heard all of these at least once, but she always tells them differently every time. Even knowing what she's about to say, I couldn't help but find myself drawn in by her words. So much so, that the fifteen minute walk almost seemed like a blur. By the time I knew it, we were at the other side of the neighborhood, standing on the sidewalk. There was an equally large hill on this side, one that was infamous amongst every kid who lived here. Every winter, it got covered in a sheet of ice that was perfect for sledding. I almost debated-
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"Man, we GOTTA come back in January. You remember that one sled race we did, when your mom bought you that blue sled? Hah! A-And then you hit Anthony's fence cause you didn't know how to stop, and his dad got super pissed!"
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While I was sincerely hoping she didn't remember that, Olivia's giggling shed any sense of embarrassment from my mind. I couldn't help but reminisce about it myself.
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"Yeah- he threatened to call the police. Dad had to pay to fix it, and I had to mow lawns every weekend over the summer to pay him back. Heh.. you used to stand on the sidewalk-"
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A sudden burst of laughter emits from Olivia. "Y-Yeah, and I would just yell at you to go faster the whole time, and you would get mad, but you couldn't chase me cause you were too tired after you were done!"
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The fond memory causes me to laugh as well. As we both finish giggling, our eyes meet. Those pale, yellow eyes that contain so much of the joy we both shared as kids. My heart flutters briefly, and I look away, blushing. Searching for something to say to break the embarrassment, I speak at random.
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"Y-Yeah, that was the summer you tried to teach me how to catch butterflies, and then you got hit by a-"
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Wait, what?
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I snap to Olivia, confused beyond all expression. She stares back at me, a similar confusion painted across those otherwise pretty features.
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"Got hit by a what?"
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I couldn't help but stare at her legs. The ones that shouldn't work anymore. But she looks just like she did last night, at the-
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My train of thought is violently interrupted by the sound of a car horn. Looking up, I spot a pair of bright xenon headlights barreling towards us. Olivia hasn't even turned her head yet. My body acts on pure instinct. Moving faster than I ever have before, I reach out to the baryonyx with both arms, grabbing her body tightly and violently throwing her out of the way. The expression of fear in Olivia's eyes as she stumbles several feet to the left is the last thing I see before contact, a sudden chill shooting through my body.
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A sudden chill that jolts me awake. My eyes scan my surroundings, seeing nothing but the blurry environment of the small apartment I've lived in for almost a year now. My reptile brain senses no danger anymore, and I lie back down; the chilling wind of what just happened washes over me again. I almost never have dreams that vivid, and the events aren't fading from my mind like they normally do. Exploring those childhood memories with my only friend.. the overpowering sensation of joy and sorrow mesh together to form a disgusting combination in my heart. I almost wish I had never woken up. It's only then that I notice the tears; the ones budding at the edges of my eyes. The positive blanket that Fang had draped over me months ago was pierced, and the protective veil of apathy and avoidance it had replaced could no longer protect me.
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For a moment, I thought about resisting the sorrow, finding some sort of distraction to prevent what little dignity I have from flowing out of my eyes. There was nobody here to prove anything to, but society's always taught me that stoicism is strength. Don't I need to be strong, just like she is, if I ever want to connect with her? What kind of man would I be if I bawled like a child after a bad dream? Practically countering this train of thought, my mind drifts towards something else. Distant memories, lessons taught to me by Bob Ross and Mister Rogers, proliferating in opposition to the fear. The people I looked up to as a child; they all shared the same sentiment. There'll never be a rainbow without the rain. How can I ever find happiness or strength if I don't know what sadness or weakness looks like? These words shine resolute amongst the cacophony of doubt that flows through my head. The will to change, to avoid being paralyzed by fear that things will only get worse, isn't that what I've been trying to find? What harm is there in losing myself here and now? Am I afraid of what I'll see? I make up my mind. I allow the doubts to fade from my head, just like I did last night, and relax. No more struggling.
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I can't remember the last time I've actually cried. Resisting the urge to stifle anything, I allow the tears to flow gently from my eyes, staining both my shirt and my bedsheets. The stream is occasionally dried by the edge of my blanket as I clear my vision. The feelings of guilt from wasted teenage years and the lack of emotional connections fuel the next fifteen minutes I spend like this. My face feels like it's on fire; six years of pent up aggression and sorrow radiate from it and evaporate into the cool morning air. By the end of it, I can barely think; a catharsis so powerful it utterly destroyed anything but the most basic of routine. I lift myself from the mattress, dragging myself towards my dresser, and collect a few articles of clothing without even looking at them. I trudge my way into the bathroom, hanging my clothes on a rack and peeling the soaked white t-shirt from my body. I can't help but stare at myself in the mirror. That expression of pain, of a puffed up frown, of sorrowful exhausted eyes, nearly sends me recoiling. I turn away, getting ready to take a shower.
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The cool water sprays down on my face and swirls down the drain, taking any evidence of the last twenty minutes with it. My empty mind slowly comes back online as I wash my body, and I can't help but think of Olivia. Knowing she's gone through worse than I could probably ever imagine, the thought of her broken down in tears almost makes me cry again. But that thought doesn't last; as I close my eyes and let the water cleanse me of my guilt, she slowly changes shape in my head. Olivia's barely presentable attitude, masking the years she's spent struggling, gives way to one of happiness, love and affection that reminds me of who she used to be. I open my eyes, trying to reach some sort of conclusion in my head about what *I* actually want. Do I love her, or are we just friends? Are my feelings born from genuine kindness, or am I just trying to change someone for my own benefit? Try as I might, I can't come to an answer. I tell myself it's alright; Rome wasn't built in a day, I still have time to think. After my regular shower routine of soap, shampoo and rinsing, I turn off the water and step out, drying myself off. My clothes barely match, but I put them on anyway.
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While walking towards the door of the bathroom, I can't help but stop and stare at myself in the mirror. Brushing the light steam from the reflective glass, I stare at my face again; the broken expression that adorned it earlier has all but vanished. I can't help but smile at myself. The reflection in the glass is normally someone I barely recognize, but today, I genuinely see me. I don't need all the answers right now, I just want to do everything I can for her. The shimmer in my pale blue eyes reminds me of something beautiful. It only takes me a few moments to realize where I've seen that uplifting gaze before: on that stage, in Fang's eyes. I was right; there is something more for me, just like there was for her. Content with myself, I leave the bathroom, only to hear the familiar sound of a jazzy phone alarm going off.
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I spot my charging phone on top of my dresser. I reach for it, unplugging the cable and grabbing my phone carefully. I blink to clear what remains of my blurred shower vision, raising the screen towards my face. Thumbing the red dismissal button, I check the time. One thirty in the afternoon. Checking my notifications reveals nothing new; a few Snoutchat messages from a group chat, full of people I haven't spoken to in ages. A mobile game reminds me of limited time in-app purchase deals. I have one text message from Olivia.
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Opening the message quickly, I see a post-ironic piece of esoteric humor, as has been custom between us for the last month. An orange cat stares at the screen, with a caption in comic sans stating, "Dear Federal Agents, all my posts are serious and I am a threat to society." Hah. It was only sent a few minutes ago, so maybe I should say something to her. I'm not an expert at texting by any means, but I'll give it a shot. Deep breaths.
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"wyd rn?"
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A classic. Just casual enough to be noncommittal, but still gets my point across. I really should stop thinking so hard about this, though. I stare at the screen as I move over to my desk, sitting down in a tiny office chair. The latest in phone technology is too expensive for me, so I don't have any sort of "Read" notification to go off of. It takes about three minutes, during which I continue to stress myself out, but she replies.
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"playing re4"
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I do feel a slight amount of guilt for interrupting someone while they're playing Resident Evil 4.
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"wanna go somewhere?
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My thoughts wander towards various places in this city, thinking of a good place to hang out. Maybe not anything that costs money. The reply I get is difficult to decipher:
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"?"
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I'm not sure what just a question mark even means. Does she want to know where, or is that more of a "really?" response? Regardless, I still have to think of something. It takes a few minutes of thought, but I remember a small park that's nearby where we work. I used to go there after school occasionally; it's a nice place to relax, especially in the summer. Maybe she'll like it? Just in case, I try to answer all potential questions at the same time.
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"bored. how bout everglade park, 3:00?"
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This time, it doesn't take her long to respond; only about half a minute.
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"hang on"
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My mind races back and forth, trying to decide whether or not that response is a good or bad one. I get no response from her for several minutes, so I place my phone on my desk and power on my old desktop computer. It takes a bit, but eventually I can get onto the internet and actually look up the park. I've never done anything there besides walk around, so I want to see if there's anything cool to do. From what I can find, it just looks like a bunch of gazebos and barbecue pits; there is a playground, but I'm not twelve anymore. I can't help but let doubt poison my thoughts, and I consider finding some other place, but I'm interrupted by my phone going off. It's two o'clock right now, and Olivia sent me another text. Let's see.
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"sure"
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While it's an uncomfortably short response, having her actually agree to hang out somewhere that isn't work or school is a new experience for me. I can't help but find myself excited, it'll be good to just talk without any distractions. Maybe I'll learn a little about what she's been up to in the last few years. I have about an hour to get ready, but I don't really need that much time. I dry and comb my hair, put on some deodorant, grab my wired earbuds, and browse the internet for about half an hour before I decide to leave. I'm not sure what the next few hours will look like, but I'm hopeful. I take the elevator down to the parking lot of the apartment, approaching my old silver car. After unlocking the door, I take a moment to breathe.
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It's a nice day out. A butterfly flutters over my head. Everything will be alright, as long as I try my hardest for her. For Olivia.
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~END~