I. Aller
I hate them. Butterflies, I mean.
Strange, isn't it? See, butterflies are nice. Like summer. You hear them in songs. They're meant to remind you of love, all that stuff. At the least, they're pretty. Aren't they? Shiny little wings, colourful patterns. Pink, printed on little girls' stationary. In your stomach. In songs. Butterflies.
They have small, black eyes.
It's mostly the eyes.
"I don't think I can forgive you".
The lake.
"I know."
Stood, back to the lake.
Go back. Go deeper.
"I don't know why, but just I thought….if I let you go now, I'd regret it."
Stood in front of her, back to the lake.
"But…you know me. You know what I'm like."
Deeper, go deeper.
"I'm selfish. I'm selfish and I'm….petty."
Stood in front of her, staring into her eyes, back to the lake.
"I'll probably hurt you again."
"I know."
Go back. Go deeper.
Confess it.
"…I wanted to say thank you. For what you gave me. You…it made me happy."
Staring into her eyes.
Confessing it.
"I wanted us to stay like this."
"I know."
"I'm sorry."
Confessing it to Juri.
"I wanted…."
It is a sunny day in Ohtori. On this day, hearts will break.
"I wanted…."
There is a faint humming in the air. Juri's eyes flick to the side. Flick away.
Gently, slowly, the butterfly floats past, its wings white and blank, blank, blank.
And I awake with my fist clutching empty air.
It's too early. The room is dim. I curse that damn dream (again, always, always) because now if I try to go back to sleep I'll see them again, the little…but nevermind. Sulking never was my best trait. Neither was brooding. I tell myself this sort of things a lot, nowadays.
So instead I roll over and feel the surface of my beside table, eventually finding what I'm looking for. They are hard to read in the half-light, but I do. I run my thumbs over the paper surface, making sure not to crease them. Memorise the times, the place exactly. They haven't changed.
Is it comforting? In a way, but then there is also the gnawing ache in my stomach. What if—no. What ifs are bad. They make things complicated. Something else I tell myself all the time. Don't sulk. Don't brood. Don't doubt. Don't be petty.
Don't be jealous.
Everytime I hear that word, it reminds me of something I can't remember.
Carefully, I lay the tickets back down in their place, hug my knees. It is tempting to give it up, to back to bed. Maybe it would be for the best. Maybe. It would certainly be easier. And I am afraid.
What if….
I get up.
Today, the tickets say I am going to get a bus, then a train. They are advance tickets; I have been planning this journey for some time. They were also fairly expensive, but that doesn't matter. As long as I get there. It's good, in a way: if I turn back, it'll be money wasted at the very least. A spur to keep me going.
Outside the window, the world spreads below me. I finger the chipped paint on the frames and for a moment feel the bitterness rise up in me again. No. Push it back down. The flat isn't so bad. Being alone is quite comforting, sometimes. Home might be nicer, but I'd willingly trudge to the Café every other evening to collect my paycheck so I can live here, just to get away from her. That the college was nearby was just a good excuse.
Plus, this block doesn't have an elevator.
I don't like elevators.
It's nearing the time. Here we go: another of those moments to get through. Get up or stay down. Stay or go. For better or for worse.
I get up.
My name is Takatsuki Shiori.
This is my day.
(Author's note: I don't own Utena. Thankfully.
Reviews very much appreciated, as always. Flames accepted with a smile and possibly a weak joke in response.)