Authoress: Okay so this was a little drabble I was inspired to write while I was sitting outside on my porch. Tell me if you like it!
Butterfly: Flirty, flighty, and free. (innocently flirty, unawareably flighty, blissfully free)
(NOTE: This is written from Takashi's point of view.)
When he stopped to think about it, Haruhi reminded him of a Butterfly.
There was one subtle difference, he noted. Butterflies fluttered around aimlessly. Haruhi always knew what she was going to do at each moment. Nothing happened that she could not adjust to, and she set herself in a pattern that she strayed from only when the club interrupted her carefully laid out life. Haruhi may not flutter around in the same sense that some girls did, flaunting their femininity and beauty. No, Haruhi fluttered in a completely different way, a way Takashi knew best.
Like when she moved to pick up a book, he often noticed how her hands would flutter over it, caressing it slightly as if she was greeting an old friend. It was something she seemed to do without thinking, and a smile would pull at the corner of her mouth. Even with school textbooks, they seemed to hold a wonder in her eyes.
Like when they stood side by side watching the sunset after a long day at host club, and the wind picked up, causing her short hair to flutter too and fro. Tempting him to reach out and feel its softness for himself, daring him to move. He always managed to catch himself before he did just that.
Like when on occasion he picked her up and felt her heart flutter against him, often causing him to blush the slightest bit. Often he wanted to cradle her closer to him and lean down towards her, just to see if her heart would beat even faster. He restrained himself, and settled for holding her as gently and carefully as possible, and picking her up every moment he could. No one but Mitsukuni ever noticed it, of course.
Nevertheless, if fluttering was what made a butterfly, then, he supposed, he might also be considered one.
For never had his heart fluttered so much as when Haruhi smiled at him. Her large, brown eyes would look into his and her lips would curve into a soft tender smile. He found it hard at those times not to lean forward and taste what those lips were like. It was a rare, sincere smile that touched everyone who had the opportunity and privilege to see it. Takashi was often the recipient of that smile.
And for that, he would call Haruhi and himself butterflies.
Authoress: Okay, so i worked hard on this, but REVIEW! So i know if its good enough or if i still have to add more and revise. Did i use the word flutter too much? Idk, somehow i thought it worked, but you gotta TELL ME, eh?