To make my life more miserable, it's been raining non-stop for 2 days now and our beloved home is in high-risk of being flooded! Talk about disaster...before I start rambling though, this is late but Happy AidilAdha to all the Muslims reading this! It's damn late, I know, but then, why not? Nothing much happened last Raya and so as my journey back home so I don't/won't post anything about it...though I did learn something the hard way...
Anyway! Back to the main topic of this post, I'm (finally) posting the one-shot I mentioned here! Yay! Another thing from my list~ As you can see for yourself at the title above, this is the first part of the story...making this not really a one-shot but a three-shot instead...yeah...on my way writing the third part now...I'm hopeless, didn't I? Interestingly enough, I finished Part 2 first then Part 1 (though I made a HUGE editing on it later on)! Really...pardon this weird writer..heh~ About the title...it'll make sense after you reach the last part...as each thing associates with different parts of the story...like..Part 1 is the butterfly, part 2 is the louvre and so on..if you can guess what does it mean it'll be great! ^^ Mind you, I'm not telling...haha~
Darn it, I ramble to much! Here goes the story then! Also dedicated to a friend of mine that practically wants to kill me for not finishing this quick before she went back to holiday...you know who you are...^^
A BUTTERFLY, A LOUVRE, AND (NOT) A FREER
Bolero- The whisper of yesterday’s fantasy
In a form of a grey butterfly
In a form of a grey butterfly
On the floating darkness of the moon’s stage
I saw you dancing in my dreams
I saw you dancing in my dreams
It was a dream.
He does not quite sure at first, but when his History teacher kicks him out of the class it becomes clear enough for him to understand. Still, even after standing outside for almost one hour period he can still hear whispers of the soft melody in his ears. He blames it on the loud speaker his roommate ‘accidentally’ put beside his ears this morning; in an attempt to wake him up, or so he said.
He did not buy any of it.
The air buzzes with excitement; a new student is coming, or so they said. He does not bother, just shrug it off and immediately falls asleep the moment his head touches the desk. He wakes up with a jolt when his Math teacher screams her lungs out and he is kicked out of the class, again. He feels his body burns like fire and he might just catch a fever. Still, he stands there like nothing happens, an angelic smile etched in his brain along with the beautiful melody from what he assumes as the dream like before. When he collapsed later and found himself in the nurse’s office he blames it on the insomnia he suffered the past few days, though the nurse simply said he sleeps too much.
He did not buy any of it.
The whole class let out a frustrated groan when the Arts teacher announced the theme of the next project, humans; as in your own partner. He is truly awake now, Arts is his favorite and perhaps his best subject; although some may say that he still look half-sleepy. He blames it on his droopy eyes but he is not one to care much about other’s opinion on him, so he drops the blame off. Besides, he likes his eyes the way it is. Throwing his glance out of the window, he starts scribbling randomly on the canvas. The odd number of students in the class leaves him with no partner to begin with, not like he cares anyway. Everybody starts moving around and discussing the project when he suddenly feels a presence behind him. He turns just in time to catch all eyes on him, especially the guys, much to his dismay. He do not speak much in class, the odd one out after all, and heck he do not even knows the name of his classmate save for the class president! Ignoring them altogether he turns to the person behind him, a girl, with a beautiful smile and silky long blonde hair.
“The teacher says that you will be my partner. May I sit here?”
“Class, this is your new classmate, please be nice to her, ok?”
The boys are all nodding enthusiastically, hearts forming in their eyes, much to the annoyance of the girls. The new girl smiles warmly, eyeing her new classmates and notices a boy sleeping at the far end of the row seat, next to the window. She takes a seat at the back, an empty seat separating her and the sleeping boy. Her warm and kind nature won the hearts of the girls and she even find lots of new friends in her first day. By the end of the day, she gets to know the name of everybody in the class and befriend them but the sleeping boy who happens to collapse after standing for two hours outside of the class as detention for sleeping.
He eyes her with a confused look in the face. He is absolutely sure that he does not have a partner but then again he might be wrong somehow, he never notices his surroundings after all. He remembered before that they got themselves a new student but he did not quite sure which one is it. Shrugging his messy thought off he just nods and the girl sits beside him, still smiling. He nods in acknowledgement; he does not interact much with people, let alone girls, and turns to focus on his canvas again, putting a new one to get ready for the project. He can feel intense stares from his classmates, mostly from the boys, for this girl is indeed pretty. Perhaps they are jealous of him for being able to have her as a partner, not like he really cares.
“So, who should start draw first?”
“I don’t mine.”
“Then, can I start?”
He simply nods and is about to stand when she stops him.
“Just stay like that, its fine already. I can draw best from a person’s side rather than in front.”
He sits again as she turns to face him, her canvas between them and starts drawing. He throws his glance out again and starts sketching. Deep inside he feels glad that he do not have to face her, for it will be awkward enough for him. Still, even in this position he feels bad already as he can feel her eyes on him. Focusing on the sketch he pretends like his alone, like she is not there at the first place.
She enters the supposed-to-be-empty class to find her Arts partner sleeping on his seat. The head on the desk, both arms act as a pillow, the body touches the wall, as the face turns to his right, meaning he faces the class. The ray of sunlight shines in through the window and hits his body. She finds it a beautiful sight. Taking her seat like before, she pulls out her canvas, and starts to draw.
“I finished my sketch so it should be your turn now.”
He nods. She turns and makes her way to the door before she turns once again.
“Are you sure you only need my picture? We can arrange some time, I’ll be glad to help. You’re my partner after all.”
He just shook his head and smiles a bit, meaning it’s more than enough already. She nods and starts moving again.
He nods as the door closes. He attaches the full-body picture of her on top-left of his canvas, closes his eyes, hums the unknown melody and starts sketching.
He stands there, at the rooftop. There is no one around for it is actually class time. If he is a studious student he will be in class paying attention to Biology right now, but apparently he is not so he skipped the class instead. He always sucks at Biology anyway, and somehow he is just not in the mood. He closes his eyes, feeling the wind, and he hums the beautiful melody. Somehow, he knows it by heart already. Anybody would, he thinks, when there’s nothing you can hear but the melody whenever you closes your eyes. He calls it a dream, but it’s not like he sleeps every time. Well most of the time he did but this is different. He tries to understand further but he finds himself lost track of the melody and it irritates him somehow as his head starts to hurt. He is not a bright one in thinking after all so he decides to drop it off.
He closes his eyes, relaxing himself. Soon enough he is overwhelm with the melody, lifting him up, crushing into the sky. He can barely feel the ground beneath him. The first few times it happened he think about it too much he developed a massive headache he thought he was going to die. But as time passes by he slowly adapt to the situation and somehow, he likes it. He no longer wants to analyze or try to fight it. He does not even care if it makes no sense at all. He just know one thing, it’s like zero gravity. And that is all he needs to know. Or so he thought. Until he sees the angelic smile, the presence of white he never understands, clearer than ever, for the first time.
He opens his eyes, back to reality. The rooftop door opens as he turns around. She smiles at him.
It’s his Arts partner.
She catches him humming the tune while sketching and he almost dies of heart attack. He never knows who or what the white presence is, and he, being simple-minded and all decides not to bother. But the fact that her smile and the angelic smile is 120% the same did mess up with his poor brain. In the end, somehow, he ends up telling her about it. When he is done, he steals a glance at her face and has the sudden urge to jump from the 4th floor. But instead of being shocked and all she smiles and thank him for telling her that before runs to the rooftop door.
He did not buy any of it.
He finishes the 5th sketch of her at the rooftop yet somehow he is not satisfied. There is something missing in it, he knows, but he is too tired to figure out what it is. His insomniac problem the past few days does not help much either. He is about to hum the tune and lost in the clouds when the door opens, and she walks up to him. She is full of smiles as she thanks him again and again for telling her what she assumes as the out-of-the-body experience. She hands him a poster and immediately it all dawns up to him. It seems that she had joined a club already and decided on it right after he finished told her the bewildering story.
“I’ll re-learn the move to fly.”
He nods knowingly as she smiles. When she gets up to leave, she gives him one of the best smiles she has and he finds out the missing piece instantly. He picks up his canvas and starts to draw.
He looks at his sketch of her, a big marvelous A at the back of the canvas. His Art teacher must have liked the piece so much he offers to buy it from him, which he politely declines. She smiles, bright and all as the teacher displays it for all to see. But she smiles even brighter as he gives the sketch to her as a present. Inside his bag is a sketch of him sleeping, which might earn her a better A if she hand it to the teacher. Somehow, she did not do so.
Her first sketch of him being awkward and all earn a B++, and she is satisfied already, much to his amusement.
The class ends earlier than usual today, as everybody excluding him is busy with the meetings for the upcoming school festival. The festival is less than 2 months from now but the excitement already fill up the air around him, not like he really cares. He gathers up his belongings and makes his way out when he bumps into his Arts teacher at the door.
“I was looking for you! Can you help me for a bit? Well, it’s the usual thing actually, if you don’t mind this time...”
He answers before the teacher can even finish his sentence, and smiles, agreeing.
The hallway is full with posters for the upcoming festival and he do not fail to recognize one of them as the one she showed him before. Black and white contradicts yet beautifully blends with each other. He does not exaggerating when he thinks that the poster outshines the others in terms of Arts. Maybe the black background color leaves an impression to him. He always loves black in his painting as he thinks its mystery, cool, and beautiful.
“The poster is not just pretty, don’t you think?”
He nods. There is a certain aura perhaps on it that makes it stand out. He wonders who creates it but then again it must be one of teachers. It’s from the Arts department after all.
“Do you have some time? There is something I want to show you.”
He simply nods and follows her from behind. The festival has always been considered as the biggest event in the school after the graduation and the whole school is getting involved, whether in exhibitions, performances, anything to make it more interesting. While many would prefer to take part or even organizing and be in-charge, he feels contempt enough to observe the situation from the rooftop, and scribble something. If he is in the mood he might even sketch on his canvas, or just strolling around aimlessly.
They reach the third floor and there are less people around. Most of the rooms on this floor belonged to the old clubs that do not even existed or function now and left abandoned, for new clubs occupies the first or the second floor of this building. He is a member of the Arts club, though he never even goes to the club’s meeting once to save his life, he only joins because it is compulsory for each student to participate in co-curriculum activities. The advisor of the club, who is also, happens to be his class’ Arts teacher never really mined his behavior, as long as he helps him occasionally with the Arts gallery outside the club room. And he does not mind one bit. He loves drawing, sketching, painting, anything to do with Art. He can never grow tired or bored with it.
She stops in front of the door of the room which is at the far end of the hallway, opening it and motions him inside. Somehow, he feels like he just loses himself and when he realizes it he can feel his eyes grow wider at the sight and he turns to face her. Shock and surprised clearly written on his face.
Her smile is so bright it can beat the sun effortlessly.
Somehow, he ends up falling asleep at the rooftop and for the first time in his life, he skips the Arts class, much to his own chagrin. When he wakes up he realizes that he had skips almost 3 classes already, with the Arts class at the beginning of his schedule. Grabbing his canvas and his bag he rushes to the teacher’s office; today is the due date for the Arts project. As he runs, his surroundings are nothing but a blur; grey and white filling the background, like his sketch. He can hear nothing but his own heart pounding hard, threatening to escape from his ribs. He can hardly feel his legs, as if it has gone numb already. Somehow, he feels like he is in a different world altogether, for he can feel like his body is flying, and even his poor brain knows that it is not possible, at least not to him.
He blinks once, twice, three times, and he is a goner.
He is not one with sports; at least that is what he thinks. Like now, when everybody is baring the heat and shouting their lungs out to support their team in the competitions, he is up here, at the rooftops, looking down and rolling his pencil between the fingers, searching for something good to sketch. It is the final day of the Sports Week and all the final events are being held today, which explains the high atmosphere on the air at the moment. He enjoys this actually, the spirit of everything, for it may be a great idea and subject for his art. The scorching sun shines brightly and the breeze that blows softly adds up to the blissful feeling. He hums the nameless tune and closes his eyes, feeling his heart grows lighter. The sound of paper catches him off guard and before he knows it his sketches are already scattered high above him, gone with the wind. The sight is fascinating, even to him. He must have forgotten to put his bag on them so that they will not go off, like now. Realizing the situation, he immediately snaps his head and watches in horror as all his precious sketches fly away from him and falling to the ground. He cannot bear losing them, not his sketches. One step backwards, two, and he runs off, determines to get them back.
He runs and runs, like there is no tomorrow.
He is ready to run now. He can feel his head thumping hard, dizzy. His breathing quickens in pace, makes himself choke of air. He does not want to see it; he does not want to remember. He has been successful in forgetting it all completely before, he would not let it all go in vain. He feels angry with himself; he should have seen this coming, and it is not like he does not know what the room they are entering used to be before, he knows it damn too well, for he had spent almost all his time in school avoiding it like a plague. He closes his eyes, turns back to the door where she is still standing and ready to make a dash for it when she shield the door with her body, the right arm spread out, leaving him no room for the door. No matter how indifferent a person he is, he does not think that he could just simply runs past her straight away. He is a boy after all, there must be a difference in their strength, he might hurt her somewhere along the way, and he does not want to do that. He does not think he can bear it, hurting a girl. And for the first time he hates himself for being so considerate when he feels like dying himself just by simply be there.
He takes a step forward, and when their eyes meet, he can see flashes of determination in the pair of hazel eyes, she just will never let him go easily for sure. Still, he wants to leave, and he takes his chances, by moving another step closer, yet, she is still there. This extreme twist of event is perhaps a bit too much to his brain he cannot seems to think straight but he do knows that this girl is indeed stronger than she looks, heck she does not even flinch one bit!
The air somehow becomes so thick and tense he does not know what to do. She knows, he thinks. She knows something, she might already know him somewhere before, it is weird for somebody to be friendly with him anyway, no matter how kind a person is. He has to admit that she is a kind girl, and all this thinking is driving him up the wall. He is tired now, the silence is killing him and his mind has gone blank. He wants to go, leave the room, the music room with the black grand piano. He cannot take this, not after all these years. He hangs his head low, walks to the door, not even sparing a glance or look at her. He only stops when the only thing separating him with the big wooden door is her right arm spread across. Her eyes are still on his, eyeing his very movement, never let go. He reaches over to the doorknob and she breaks the silence.
“I’m not going to let you leave, no, not anymore.”
He takes another step and turns the knob.
“You heart and mind may forget it all but your body remembers. When you saw the piano you went straight to it, you opened the piano lid. You stop just before you hit the key.”
Slowly, he grabs her arm with his right hand, pushing it aside, clearing the way and opens the door. There is a strong sense of déja vu the moment he steps outside.
“Don’t you get it? The tune you’ve been humming to? I know that you know what I know.”
All that he knows is she is looking at him now, he can feel her stare on his back.
“Your color is grey.”
He walks on, does not elaborate further. She might not get what he means by it, but maybe she does, he does not know. From the end of the empty hallway, her voice reaches him before he disappears from her sight.
“I’m not letting you runaway...”
It echoes between them.
A/N: How is it then? Kudos to those who spot the reference to David Archuleta's song in there...Comments are love~
EDIT: This is one of the rare times I hate my blog...(seriously considering on starting the first post on Livejournal) I already have different settings for this story, one part being at the middle, at the very right of the page, and so on but when I post it, it all becomes just plain paragraphs...I don't know whether it is just me not knowing much on blogging (mind you, I'm new here) or it's just the way it is...people, help me before I end up killing somebody out of frustration...(the nearest might-be victim is my pillow) do help me~
Music of the day: Gundam Seed- River
P/S: This is one of the OSTs for the anime Mobile Suit Gundam Seed...I have to say I never watch the anime and don't really have the intention to do so...not really a fan of Gundam after all...but have to say they got pretty good songs for the soundtrack...and this is the one I like most! I have no idea who the singer is (his voice is charming for me) but the remix version of this song (will put it in my playlist later if I found it) have the name as Tatsuya Ishii...so that might be the singer...going to search for him in Wikipedia after this...the opening guitar part is really good and I'm seriously thinking of looking for the instrumental version of the song...do try listen to it people! As always, it's in my playlist...^^
Noticed that my post usually comes out during late at night..same goes to my writing...maybe internet results in the insomniac me? *gasp*
EDIT: -And-damn-frustrated-like-what Heiji
He peeks from the small opening of the door, fears he might get caught. Curiosity kills the cat, they say, but he is not sure whether it can kill people too.
Slowly, he opens the door wider and steps outside. He can hears a squeak from behind him, he knows he has been discovered already. Still, this is one of the rare chance he gets, and he knows, it is now or never.
He runs off towards the open arms of the world, and never looks back.
Even for once.