A Butterfly, A Louvre, and (Not) A Freer -Part 3-II [The time we've lost can't get back]-
Title: A Butterfly, A Louvre, and (Not) A Freer (3-II/3-III)
Author: Heiji Hatsutori
Length: Three-shot
Genre: Angst (I guess all my stories are angst-y)
Proclaimed: I own them all, even the characters (take note I don't put the name whatsoever, so they can be consider as mine, no? LOL).
Paring: Just put anybody you like from any fandom existed (I'm only familiar with DBSK and SuJu fandom, really).
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters anymore if you decided to put your OTP or whoever in the fandom to the act. Though I would love to have them~ (seriously, who don't? LOL)
Rating: PG (just because...)
Summary: Before the worst, before we met, before today, before too long
Let's try and take it back before it all went wrong
A/N: This is like the only part that goes chronologically. Haha! There are many songs featured in this story actually and in order to please my muse I insert some lyrics (hey, I can even make a playlist of them! You want it?) . Think you can find it? LOL. A basket of cookies for those succeed~ Not necessary this part, other parts as well. ^^
A BUTTERFLY, A LOUVRE, AND (NOT) A FREER
-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3-I [The world we knew won't come back]- Part 3-II [The time we've lost can't get back]
Day 85
“I’m not sorry about what happened before.”
Her voice firm and her eyes stare boring onto his face. They are at the school hall, as their class is assigned to take care of the decoration for the main event there.
“Same here, I’m not sorry walking out on you.”
Since the incident at the music room, everything has changed to something beyond describable. It is not awkwardness that draws them apart, no. Somehow, they just do not see one another save for class time, which seems to gradually decreasing by day as the festival draws nearer.
The hall is huge, which can occupy the whole student body at one time. Despite the size though, decorating it does not really take up energy. All they need is creativity to make it simple yet attractive, and the whole class is just good enough of students to do something complicated when they can go do something better. As the boys carry the equipments and the girls’ starts to cut colorful papers, blowing the balloons and all, he sits at one corner, sketching of what the hall may looks like a few hours later from what the classmates had been planning. So far, everything is looking good, and everyone seems to be pleased with his rendition of the plan, some even takes his detailed sketch to consideration, and he loves it when people take good note on his imagination.
He closes his eyes and unconsciously humming the tune, hands still sketching when she walks to him and sit down on the stool beside him, who is oblivious of the whole thing. It is only when he opens his eyes and hears a soft hum continuing where he stops from his left that he realizes she is there. Even so, he is not that surprised to see her until he sees tears from the closed eyes. He does not want to remember, he does not want to remember, yet still, he did.
He remembers everything now, not that he is telling.
Day 86
Somehow, it slips out, much to his own chagrin.
“You don’t have to stay here, you know?”
They are at the class; again, he sketching at the corner, she sits quietly beside him, the whole class is simply fooling around with nothing better to do now that they had finished decorating the hall way ahead of the planned schedule, and the teacher just called-in sick at the right time, he thinks. Unfortunately, it has been raining a lot these days and somehow, it does not seem like it will be stopping anytime soon, leaving him stuck in the class.
“This is my desk. What can I do about it?”
Originally there is a desk in between them but due to much stuff for the festival packed at the back of the class forcing them to remove the broken desk in the middle and move her desk beside him instead. Seriously, the class is turning into some sort of a paper jungle at the back. Heck, they cannot even see the back door anymore!
“I know, I mean, you can go and talk to your friends or something.”
The rain is still pouring, with occasional thunder screaming once in awhile. The sky is dark and angry and sad, the rain might just be the tears of the hidden sun, unstoppable.
“I don’t feel like it. Must be the rain...I hate it.”
Her eyes blank and glassy as she stares outside, the drops of rain washing the window near them. Yet he does not even bother closing it.
“Same here, there’s too much heartache to remember, perhaps.”
He says it in almost a whisper, that he is kind of surprised that she can even hear it, and each word of it to be exact.
“What do you possibly remember? It can’t be worse than mine, no way.”
And here he slips it out, to regret a whole lot later on.
“Yeah, right. What can be worse than having your blood brother goes berserk and runs away from the jail and steal a broken car to ram onto your best friends of your whole life and killing them right at the spot? Tell me what then.”
He let out a sigh and smirk, turning from the window to face her, only to meet with her horror expression staring at him.
“So you did remember.”
The realization hit him, hard, while she feels her body freezes at an instant.
“Crap.”
Day 87
Contrary to the usual, today is sunny, so hot it makes people wonder if it really was raining cats and dogs before. There is not even a single puddle of water left by the road, he thinks, as he walks away from the school compound. Unbeknownst to him, she is already waiting at the main gate.
“I’ve been waiting for you, senior.”
He raises an eyebrow in question.
“I’m not your senior. At least, no longer am. We’re classmates now, if you don’t even realize that yet.”
She just smiles that brilliant smile of hers, like nothing is wrong at all.
“So? It didn’t change the fact that you’re older than I am.”
He knows he is just not one for words, and the more he talks the more mistakes he made, which he learnt the hard way, so he keeps quiet.
“Here, for you.”
She shoves a ridiculously thick bundled paper from her bag into his arms, taking him to surprise. He stares at it like an idiot, completely at a loss for words.
“This is the complete version of our project. Script, background, heck even to the finest detail of the timing is compiled here! Have it.”
Her smile is so bright it blinds him momentarily.
“Read on, and you get what I mean. I have a copy myself, so don’t bother returning it. This, it is all meant for you from the very beginning. Let’s work hard together!”
With that she squeezes his shoulder and walks off away, making her way back into the school as he stares at her retreating back.
“Don’t bother pretending, seriously. It’s too obvious.”
He walks off the opposite direction.
“No wonder your color’s grey.”
Day 88
He avoids her like a plague, knowing full well what she is up to now. He spent the rest of his night studying the so-called plan; it hurts his head and his heart bad. All that he wants right now is some sleep and as he heads to the infirmary he passes a small room which he knows abandoned for quite some time now but unexpectedly noisy today. Curiosity gets the better of him somehow, which is also quite unlikely of him usually, and he ends up peeping inside from a small opening of the door, the scent of flowers greets him.
The room is dim and the only source of light comes from the only window available, and at the center he sees her, from the side view, in a ballet position, both arms stretched far from her in opposite direction, one leg lifted up higher than another. Involuntarily he remembers his sketch of her and how it painfully similar to the old memories. He knows where the idea comes from now and he has a heavy sensation tying up a knot in his stomach.
She drops her arms to her sides slowly and breaths in deep, inhaling the fresh scent of Iris. As she smiles warmly to herself, enjoying each seconds she is there, the tune drifts off from her memory and fades away into nothingness. She notices the door is opened a bit and frowns. She remembers closing it before she starts her routine though. She feels the knob of the door warm against her hand as she closes it and leaves. For some odd reasons she feels happy somehow, not even knowing why.
Not like she really cares.
Day 89
“The said friends died on me.”
He almost dies on heart attack from the sudden loud voice and turns around to find her standing there right behind him. It is windy and he brings extra books with him to cover his sketches in case they flown away again like last time. Seriously, he does not even hear her coming and to be talked to suddenly like that really scares the hell out of him.
“What?”
Really, for that is like the only thing he manages to choke out of his systems at the moment. The wind blows harder, swaying her long hair to her left. She walks closer to him, until she is an arm away from him. Her steps firm and slow, graceful even, with no sound attached, and he immediately reminded that she is, after all, a ballet dancer; of course he cannot hear her walking.
“You asked me before, what can be worse than having your own blood brother...”
He raises one hand, prompting her to stop.
“Don’t repeat me, for God’s sake. Tell me something I don’t know.”
Her eyes stares right into his, unfazed.
“Those seniors, they died on me. I let them die, in front of me.”
Those dark brown eyes seem focused no more as she grab his collars with both hands, to his surprise. Her hands cold, like ice against his body.
“I killed them.”
Day 90
“I might kill you.”
Her smile seems off somehow, and while her voice makes it sound like a joke, her glassy eyes tells a thousand different stories.
They are at the rooftop, he sketches as usual, and except this time the image on his canvas is her just like how he saw her before with the wind, the hair sways away, simply standing there.
“Why?”
She stares off to the space.
“No reason.”
He almost gagged.
“Maybe because I cannot remember the tune, and cannot dance without it.”
The sketch is finished.
“Find other song then.”
She steals a glance at the sketch while he steals a glance at her direction.
“I don’t want to.”
No reaction.
“I’m making the plan a reality. I’ll be performing it on the festival at the hall.”
He knows where this conversation will head to.
“The only thing left now is the song, the piano, and you.”
It is just like how he thought it would be.
“You might as well go on with it.”
She is facing him now. He stands up, giving out the sketch to her and packs up his things, preparing to leave.
“Go on.”
She is facing his back now.
“Go on and kill me.”
Day 91
He wakes up at the hospital, much to his own amusement. He remembers hearing the voice of a doctor who he assumes is his telling somebody maybe about his condition. He remembers something along the line of tired, overworks himself and lack of sleep?
He does not but any of it.
On the room right next to his, she is sleeping soundly; the left wrist is heavily bandaged. Her doctor speaks no word about her, simply shaking her head a bit. This is not the first time she have her as a patient.
And this is not the first time she has to bandage that wrist.
Day 92
They bump onto each other when they are leaving the hospital, and overhearing something they should not have known about each other.
“I thought you’ll be killing me first.”
There is a smile.
“And here I thought you’d spent any given time sleeping.”
He snorts at the remark.
“You’re one to talk.”
She smiles brilliantly.
“I’m looking forward for the song to complete.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“I heard you humming it. Don’t even try to deny, I know what I heard.”
Day 93
The class is filling with chatter as everybody enjoys the unexpected free period from P.E teacher due to him having a sudden meeting or something, not like the students really cares. It amuses him to no end on how he cannot seems to able to take his eyes of her left wrist, still perfectly bandaged under the long sleeves while she can go on talking and joking freely like there is nothing going wrong at all. And it appears that nobody really notices that he is absent before maybe because he is not always there either and he has to say that he is glad. Unlike her who had been pestered by her friends on the sudden leave this morning.
He throws his gaze outside and feels incredibly calm that his eyes closes voluntarily, his body feels like floating before he feels it going down to the gravity.
He does not remember hitting the floor though.
Day 94
He opens his eyes to meet an amazing bunch of purple flower in a vase beside him. He is at the rooftop, lying on the floor and is it a bag under his head? The sky is so blue above him, with no trace of clouds at all. His head feels dizzy and he tries to get up, only to be pushed down again later.
“You should sleep some more, I think. Who knows when can you sleep again after this? Better grab the opportunity.”
He gets up and sits, eyeing the flower with a sheer interest in his eyes.
“I have enough of lying on the cold floor, thank you very much.”
“The happiness of the believer, that’s the meaning.”
He simply raises an eyebrow.
“The flower, it’s Iris.”
“So?”
“Each flower has a meaning on their own.”
“Oh.”
She smiles softly as she said that, and he notices a new bandage on her left wrist. He decides to not ask about it.
“What do you believe in, then?”
“You.”
“Why me?”
“No idea.”
Maybe it is best of him to ask, after all.
“Why did you do what you do? You know what I’m taking about.”
The look on her face as she smiles truthfully haunts him.
“I’ll tell after the performance. Just one time, and it will be over. Everything is going to end there, so please, say yes.”
There is an invisible chill behind the back.
“I will...no, I had already finished it actually.”
He can never describe it.
“I’m in.”
Author: Heiji Hatsutori
Length: Three-shot
Genre: Angst (I guess all my stories are angst-y)
Proclaimed: I own them all, even the characters (take note I don't put the name whatsoever, so they can be consider as mine, no? LOL).
Paring: Just put anybody you like from any fandom existed (I'm only familiar with DBSK and SuJu fandom, really).
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters anymore if you decided to put your OTP or whoever in the fandom to the act. Though I would love to have them~ (seriously, who don't? LOL)
Rating: PG (just because...)
Summary: Before the worst, before we met, before today, before too long
Let's try and take it back before it all went wrong
A/N: This is like the only part that goes chronologically. Haha! There are many songs featured in this story actually and in order to please my muse I insert some lyrics (hey, I can even make a playlist of them! You want it?) . Think you can find it? LOL. A basket of cookies for those succeed~ Not necessary this part, other parts as well. ^^
A BUTTERFLY, A LOUVRE, AND (NOT) A FREER
-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 3-I [The world we knew won't come back]- Part 3-II [The time we've lost can't get back]
Day 85
“I’m not sorry about what happened before.”
Her voice firm and her eyes stare boring onto his face. They are at the school hall, as their class is assigned to take care of the decoration for the main event there.
“Same here, I’m not sorry walking out on you.”
Since the incident at the music room, everything has changed to something beyond describable. It is not awkwardness that draws them apart, no. Somehow, they just do not see one another save for class time, which seems to gradually decreasing by day as the festival draws nearer.
The hall is huge, which can occupy the whole student body at one time. Despite the size though, decorating it does not really take up energy. All they need is creativity to make it simple yet attractive, and the whole class is just good enough of students to do something complicated when they can go do something better. As the boys carry the equipments and the girls’ starts to cut colorful papers, blowing the balloons and all, he sits at one corner, sketching of what the hall may looks like a few hours later from what the classmates had been planning. So far, everything is looking good, and everyone seems to be pleased with his rendition of the plan, some even takes his detailed sketch to consideration, and he loves it when people take good note on his imagination.
He closes his eyes and unconsciously humming the tune, hands still sketching when she walks to him and sit down on the stool beside him, who is oblivious of the whole thing. It is only when he opens his eyes and hears a soft hum continuing where he stops from his left that he realizes she is there. Even so, he is not that surprised to see her until he sees tears from the closed eyes. He does not want to remember, he does not want to remember, yet still, he did.
He remembers everything now, not that he is telling.
Day 86
Somehow, it slips out, much to his own chagrin.
“You don’t have to stay here, you know?”
They are at the class; again, he sketching at the corner, she sits quietly beside him, the whole class is simply fooling around with nothing better to do now that they had finished decorating the hall way ahead of the planned schedule, and the teacher just called-in sick at the right time, he thinks. Unfortunately, it has been raining a lot these days and somehow, it does not seem like it will be stopping anytime soon, leaving him stuck in the class.
“This is my desk. What can I do about it?”
Originally there is a desk in between them but due to much stuff for the festival packed at the back of the class forcing them to remove the broken desk in the middle and move her desk beside him instead. Seriously, the class is turning into some sort of a paper jungle at the back. Heck, they cannot even see the back door anymore!
“I know, I mean, you can go and talk to your friends or something.”
The rain is still pouring, with occasional thunder screaming once in awhile. The sky is dark and angry and sad, the rain might just be the tears of the hidden sun, unstoppable.
“I don’t feel like it. Must be the rain...I hate it.”
Her eyes blank and glassy as she stares outside, the drops of rain washing the window near them. Yet he does not even bother closing it.
“Same here, there’s too much heartache to remember, perhaps.”
He says it in almost a whisper, that he is kind of surprised that she can even hear it, and each word of it to be exact.
“What do you possibly remember? It can’t be worse than mine, no way.”
And here he slips it out, to regret a whole lot later on.
“Yeah, right. What can be worse than having your blood brother goes berserk and runs away from the jail and steal a broken car to ram onto your best friends of your whole life and killing them right at the spot? Tell me what then.”
He let out a sigh and smirk, turning from the window to face her, only to meet with her horror expression staring at him.
“So you did remember.”
The realization hit him, hard, while she feels her body freezes at an instant.
“Crap.”
Day 87
Contrary to the usual, today is sunny, so hot it makes people wonder if it really was raining cats and dogs before. There is not even a single puddle of water left by the road, he thinks, as he walks away from the school compound. Unbeknownst to him, she is already waiting at the main gate.
“I’ve been waiting for you, senior.”
He raises an eyebrow in question.
“I’m not your senior. At least, no longer am. We’re classmates now, if you don’t even realize that yet.”
She just smiles that brilliant smile of hers, like nothing is wrong at all.
“So? It didn’t change the fact that you’re older than I am.”
He knows he is just not one for words, and the more he talks the more mistakes he made, which he learnt the hard way, so he keeps quiet.
“Here, for you.”
She shoves a ridiculously thick bundled paper from her bag into his arms, taking him to surprise. He stares at it like an idiot, completely at a loss for words.
“This is the complete version of our project. Script, background, heck even to the finest detail of the timing is compiled here! Have it.”
Her smile is so bright it blinds him momentarily.
“Read on, and you get what I mean. I have a copy myself, so don’t bother returning it. This, it is all meant for you from the very beginning. Let’s work hard together!”
With that she squeezes his shoulder and walks off away, making her way back into the school as he stares at her retreating back.
“Don’t bother pretending, seriously. It’s too obvious.”
He walks off the opposite direction.
“No wonder your color’s grey.”
Day 88
He avoids her like a plague, knowing full well what she is up to now. He spent the rest of his night studying the so-called plan; it hurts his head and his heart bad. All that he wants right now is some sleep and as he heads to the infirmary he passes a small room which he knows abandoned for quite some time now but unexpectedly noisy today. Curiosity gets the better of him somehow, which is also quite unlikely of him usually, and he ends up peeping inside from a small opening of the door, the scent of flowers greets him.
The room is dim and the only source of light comes from the only window available, and at the center he sees her, from the side view, in a ballet position, both arms stretched far from her in opposite direction, one leg lifted up higher than another. Involuntarily he remembers his sketch of her and how it painfully similar to the old memories. He knows where the idea comes from now and he has a heavy sensation tying up a knot in his stomach.
She drops her arms to her sides slowly and breaths in deep, inhaling the fresh scent of Iris. As she smiles warmly to herself, enjoying each seconds she is there, the tune drifts off from her memory and fades away into nothingness. She notices the door is opened a bit and frowns. She remembers closing it before she starts her routine though. She feels the knob of the door warm against her hand as she closes it and leaves. For some odd reasons she feels happy somehow, not even knowing why.
Not like she really cares.
Day 89
“The said friends died on me.”
He almost dies on heart attack from the sudden loud voice and turns around to find her standing there right behind him. It is windy and he brings extra books with him to cover his sketches in case they flown away again like last time. Seriously, he does not even hear her coming and to be talked to suddenly like that really scares the hell out of him.
“What?”
Really, for that is like the only thing he manages to choke out of his systems at the moment. The wind blows harder, swaying her long hair to her left. She walks closer to him, until she is an arm away from him. Her steps firm and slow, graceful even, with no sound attached, and he immediately reminded that she is, after all, a ballet dancer; of course he cannot hear her walking.
“You asked me before, what can be worse than having your own blood brother...”
He raises one hand, prompting her to stop.
“Don’t repeat me, for God’s sake. Tell me something I don’t know.”
Her eyes stares right into his, unfazed.
“Those seniors, they died on me. I let them die, in front of me.”
Those dark brown eyes seem focused no more as she grab his collars with both hands, to his surprise. Her hands cold, like ice against his body.
“I killed them.”
Day 90
“I might kill you.”
Her smile seems off somehow, and while her voice makes it sound like a joke, her glassy eyes tells a thousand different stories.
They are at the rooftop, he sketches as usual, and except this time the image on his canvas is her just like how he saw her before with the wind, the hair sways away, simply standing there.
“Why?”
She stares off to the space.
“No reason.”
He almost gagged.
“Maybe because I cannot remember the tune, and cannot dance without it.”
The sketch is finished.
“Find other song then.”
She steals a glance at the sketch while he steals a glance at her direction.
“I don’t want to.”
No reaction.
“I’m making the plan a reality. I’ll be performing it on the festival at the hall.”
He knows where this conversation will head to.
“The only thing left now is the song, the piano, and you.”
It is just like how he thought it would be.
“You might as well go on with it.”
She is facing him now. He stands up, giving out the sketch to her and packs up his things, preparing to leave.
“Go on.”
She is facing his back now.
“Go on and kill me.”
Day 91
He wakes up at the hospital, much to his own amusement. He remembers hearing the voice of a doctor who he assumes is his telling somebody maybe about his condition. He remembers something along the line of tired, overworks himself and lack of sleep?
He does not but any of it.
On the room right next to his, she is sleeping soundly; the left wrist is heavily bandaged. Her doctor speaks no word about her, simply shaking her head a bit. This is not the first time she have her as a patient.
And this is not the first time she has to bandage that wrist.
Day 92
They bump onto each other when they are leaving the hospital, and overhearing something they should not have known about each other.
“I thought you’ll be killing me first.”
There is a smile.
“And here I thought you’d spent any given time sleeping.”
He snorts at the remark.
“You’re one to talk.”
She smiles brilliantly.
“I’m looking forward for the song to complete.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“I heard you humming it. Don’t even try to deny, I know what I heard.”
Day 93
The class is filling with chatter as everybody enjoys the unexpected free period from P.E teacher due to him having a sudden meeting or something, not like the students really cares. It amuses him to no end on how he cannot seems to able to take his eyes of her left wrist, still perfectly bandaged under the long sleeves while she can go on talking and joking freely like there is nothing going wrong at all. And it appears that nobody really notices that he is absent before maybe because he is not always there either and he has to say that he is glad. Unlike her who had been pestered by her friends on the sudden leave this morning.
He throws his gaze outside and feels incredibly calm that his eyes closes voluntarily, his body feels like floating before he feels it going down to the gravity.
He does not remember hitting the floor though.
Day 94
He opens his eyes to meet an amazing bunch of purple flower in a vase beside him. He is at the rooftop, lying on the floor and is it a bag under his head? The sky is so blue above him, with no trace of clouds at all. His head feels dizzy and he tries to get up, only to be pushed down again later.
“You should sleep some more, I think. Who knows when can you sleep again after this? Better grab the opportunity.”
He gets up and sits, eyeing the flower with a sheer interest in his eyes.
“I have enough of lying on the cold floor, thank you very much.”
“The happiness of the believer, that’s the meaning.”
He simply raises an eyebrow.
“The flower, it’s Iris.”
“So?”
“Each flower has a meaning on their own.”
“Oh.”
She smiles softly as she said that, and he notices a new bandage on her left wrist. He decides to not ask about it.
“What do you believe in, then?”
“You.”
“Why me?”
“No idea.”
Maybe it is best of him to ask, after all.
“Why did you do what you do? You know what I’m taking about.”
The look on her face as she smiles truthfully haunts him.
“I’ll tell after the performance. Just one time, and it will be over. Everything is going to end there, so please, say yes.”
There is an invisible chill behind the back.
“I will...no, I had already finished it actually.”
He can never describe it.
“I’m in.”