Had to write this. I just couldn't stand all of the LynnxButterfly/Bunbun stuff. Different people, for a change. I wasn't going to use the same character two times, but meh. Plans change, you know. This is really long, and I wrote it all in one sitting, so excuse my spelling mistakes/grammatical errors. I'm so sorry I didn't update this sooner, I was busy on vacation.
Anyhow, the only warning I have for this is incest. That means sisterxbrother love. If you don't like it, GET THE HUCK OUT!
Signed with kisses~
Almond Luver
Part two: Amon, Bunbun, and Butterfly
Lovely stranger
Sing me a song, lover.
The leaves fell, agonizingly slowly, as did the soft splatters of rain on the cool grey cement. It seemed as though everything moved in slow motion, animatedly, on purpose. A young girl held a navy blue umbrella hook steadily in the tiny palms of her pale white hands. Her dark brown eyes rested on the long-raven-haired, dark-eyed, pale skinned, tall, lithe beauty of a man in front of her, who held her gaze steadily. The rain continued to fall at uneven paces on the blank scenery of unending cement next to them. The man strengthened his grip on the black object shaped to shield him from the gentle rain, his long fingers pale compared to the dark color of the item. They continued to stare deep into the others eyes, longing dark eyes meeting clueless brown ones.
Thump thump thump.
At last, minutes later, the man spoke, voice all ice and smooth against the bitter pattering of the rain.
"Butterfly."
My ancient sister resides within the House of Life,
Surrounded by rotting papyrus,
And she the only blossom.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"Amon!"
Frizzy black hair shot up from behind the counter, the owner of the name being too short to be visible. After a long moment of furious silence, the slight screeching of a chair could be heard before the frizzy black hair appeared again, along with an innocent, deathly pale face and wide black eyes. Fingers grasped the counter top, long and lean compared to the short, clumsy body they came with. The young boy stood on the chair, clutching the counter for dear life, being the perfect picture of innocence, of unending light. The boy smiled at the caller, a soft, light smile.
"Butterfly." His voice was like spoon tapped out on a glass cup with a masterful hand. It rang, delicate and soft, like pleasant streaks of sunshine.
In response, the girl, 'Butterfly', offered a smile of her own- a bit more knowing, more masterful, yet shy and kind all the same. Her hair was dark and long, pulled back into a neat braid. She was tall for her age- seven- and slim too, her body already taking a thin shape. "I was looking all over for you."
The thought of his sister being worried about him made the young boy's heart swell with pride. As if natural sisterly love was something he had created. His bright smile widened. "You were?"
She, on the other hand, frowned. Which, of course, she had a right to. She'd been looking around all day long, wearing her thin legs out in searching the whole palace numbers of times, and all her younger brother offered her was a mischevious grin? "There's nothing funny about it," she said, irritated. "I had to walk so much!"
The boy dropped his smile, not wanting to anger the older girl. "No," he replied quickly, as if ashamed. "Of course not." But deep inside he smiled. Nobody knew what he thought deep inside.
Butterfly's tone softened, as did the annoyance in her eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to get mad." Then she huffed, tossing her braid to the left part of her shoulder. She looked at the position her younger brother was in, twisted up and clawing frantically at the marble counter, and walked around it, sitting on the floor. The boy wrestled himself away from the chair and slid down next to her, sitting up stiff and hard, like she did. A few moments of silence later, though, he slid back down, posture forgotten.
"Why did ya look for me?"
Butterfly turned to him, eyebrows raised. He stared back at her, then realized his mistake and sulked. "I mean, Why were you looking for me?"
She smiled, but it was a tight, small smile. He looked at it in wonder. It wasn't pretty.
A few years back, when they were five, the girl was all smiles and laughter. Amon liked that, loved that side of the girl, the knowing, mature yet sweet side. Back then her smiles were free and wild, much like herself- and they were gorgeous. The boy spent countless mornings staring at the clear reflection of himself and trying to imitate that face expression. He never got to it, as much as he tried.
But nowadays, that smile was gone. All that remained of his once cheerful sister was the deadly, hollow bones of her existence. She would sit stiffly, even when she was with him, and smile politely, never daring to let out a single un-royal word. She had turned more like a princess and less like a sister. He stared deep into her dark brown eyes and wondered if that warm gentle smile was lost forever in her.
"Well," she said, snapping him back to reality. "You skipped out on your lessons. Your teachers were looking for you."
He continued to stare. In his childish fantasies, he imagined warmth returning to her cold brown eyes. Was this really the same sister who had urged him to stop listening to the 'stupid things' the teachers taught him?
"No," he says slowly, his mouth forming the words before his brain had time to think. "I'm not going to be king here."
She looked at him, an utterly horrified look plastered on her face. "What?"
Amon slid away from her, grabbing the counter side to clumsily stand up. Her voice was like venom, and it stung him. "You heard me," he snapped back, with boldness he didn't know he had. He felt himself shaking and he could feel his teeth chattering from the known consequences. But there was no stopping him now. Something had woken up inside him, something filled with sadness that fueled quickly into hatred. Red seemed to fill his vision. "I'm not going to turn...like you." Her eyes widened. "You were sweet and loving. You were an idol to me. But now it's gone. You're gone. Royalty broke you and made you into something like this. So you know what I say? Royalty is CRAP!"
Silence.
By the time he had realized what he had just said, it was too late to clap a hand over his mouth, a habit he couldn't drop. He just watched her, a flicker of unknown emotions passing through her widened eyes. Just when she looked like she was about to kill him, she broke out crying. Wracking sobs that nearly seemed to break her into half, shudders that were full of agony and despair. Amon's thoughts were full of confusion- the cooled down hatred, the wonder as to what she was crying about, the wishing she was nice again, the hope that she would smile at him, the heartache of watching her cry. At the end, he decided to sit down and bawl next to her too. He cried when she cried and wiped her eyes when she did and laughed at himself when she laughed as she saw him copy her. Then she pulled him into a hug and whispered through her hoarse voice, "Amon, I didn't mean to seem...broken from royalty. I just wanted to set a good example for you, but I guess you didn't like that." Then she cleared her throat. "I...I tried so hard. To fit in, to be here. Heck, I was born here! I should be use to it by now. But no, whenever I looked outside I longed to be running. So I thought I should contain myself. I tried to put myself in your shoes and think of how it would be to have a dumb sister who kept breaking the rules. I wanted to change for you. But it's so hard, Amon."
He could feel her vibrate whenever she shook, and he didn't know what she was talking about. Only that she was staring at him, lovingly, and he loved it too. He thought of something he could say that related to what she had just told him. "I...I wear papa's shoes sometimes. But I can't walk in them."
She took one look at his teary, innocent eyes and cried into his hair. "Sorry... Poor thing, you must've been so lonely. I'm so sorry... I made the wrong descision... I'll-i'll be your sister again... I'm so sorry..."
A while later, through the dying sobs and drying tears, Amon managed to croak out, "Dad's shoes are very uncomfortable."
Butterfly laughed.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
He had messed up. He had really messed up. Messed up big. Maybe even the worst he'd ever messed up in his short, fifteen years of life. Sure, he'd made mistakes, everyone did, but none of them had ever resulted in his being stabbed before.
Amon stumbled as he ran, pale hand over his right shoulder, blood staining the black collared blouse he wore. The twenty four year old jack had pulled out a knife and rammed it into his shoulder, before he could even register what was happening. All because he was running in the dark. Running in the dark and getting stabbed by a jack who thought you were a thief. That's how fucked up the world was.
Amon had ran in the direction of his sister's room. He didn't know what else to do; he'd never been stabbed before. The only other grave injury he could remember having was three years ago when he'd almost gotten his damn hand cut off, and even that he hadn't taken care of. Butterfly had, and it'd never gotten infected once. The only reminder of its existence was a faint white line of his left wrist.
Climbing in through the window was agony. The older he got the smaller the window seemed to get, and each time he went in or out of it, it was more of a struggle. Trying to get in hurt his shoulder like hell, and he let out a strangled cry of pain. Butterfly must have heard it, for when he finally got in she was there, hair still flowing as she came to a stop, brown eyes wide and instantly alert. She was out of breath, like she'd been running, and Amon didn't doubt that she had been.
"Amon! You're bleeding! What'd you do? Where's the wound?" Butterfly rapid-fired. She approached quickly and before Amon was sure he had even processed all of that, much less came up with an answer, Butterfly had moved his bloodied hand, gentle even in her distress.
"You were stabbed?" She asked weakly, eyes reconnecting with Amon's. Her face had gone ashy and for a terrible second Amon thought she was going to faint.
"I'm sure it's not as bad as it looks," Amon responded, trying somehow to make light out of the situation.
"You got stabbed deep in the arm," Butterfly replied sarcastically. "I'm sure it's not as bad as it looks."
Amon flinched, unsure of what to say or do. When he was outside, with his subjects, he was strong despite his young age, but when he was with his older sister, he turned smaller.
"Luckily, though," Butterfly said through a bright smile. "I know how to fix this!"
Amon eyed her nervously. "...Oh joy."
"Shut up, you!" The smile hardened into a scowl. "You'll have to stay in my room for the night-" She was interrupted by a snickering Amon. "I know exactly what you're thinking, young man, but that's not what I meant. You'll be screaming your head off."
"I don't doubt it," Amon replied snidely, smiling.
"You shouldn't," Butterfly snarled back, word for word. "Lay down on the windowsill bed and take off your shirt."
"I can't help but think you're going to do something to me..."
"I am. Going to kill you. Or at least pain you to death."
Amon snorted and unbuttoned his shirt, exposing a surprisingly well built, milk-white skin, currently stained with dripping blood. Wincing, he lay himself on the hard bed, where the moonlight welcomed him by bathing him in pale light. Then he turned his face and flashed his older sister a seemingly innocent look. "Please be gentle."
She tossed her long braid across her back. "We'll see. Look away. This isn't pretty."
Up until then, Amon hadn't realized what his sister was going to do to him.
When he saw the flaming knife she was holding, he was awe struck with fear. It felt as if she had already performed the horrid task on him. He felt like he couldn't breathe, like his neck was clogged off with unstoppable fire. "You're not...you're not going to..."
Butterfly smiled, pityingly, her dark brown eyes wide and sympathetic. "Sorry. Look away." And with that, she slowly lowered the flaming tip, noting the piercing black eyes that followed her every move.
When the knife hit the skin, all hell broke loose.
0000000
"Never," Amon panted, his transculent skin damp with sweat and medicine an hour after his careless operation had started. "Never tell me to come to you for help."
Butterfly laughed, brushing the younger boy's hair down with her small fingers. "Never come to me for help."
"Augh." The boy covered his face with his long, big hands, talking into the wide of his palms. "That hurt like...crap."
"I know." She reached out and cooed the hands covering his face away, looking into his eyes with a warm, sweet smile in her own. "Naughty boy, I told you to be careful!" The moonlight made her seem sweeter, more mysterious, and sort of...
...beautiful.
Amon stared at her, the brightness of her eyes, the tiny, thin features and the soul smiling down at him.
Wait.
There was something else in her eyes. What was it... sorrow?
He tried to sit up, but failed miserably, squirms ending in his panting and laying back down. She looked at him inquisitvely, the hint of sorrow completely gone.
Or was it hidden behind those curious brown eyes?
"You-you l-looked u-unhappy," Amon sputtered, gasping for air and feeling blood splash around in his throat. Butterfly only stared at him, looking somewhat distant. "W-What, sad you didn't" he gulped in air "kill me?"
His sister opened her mouth to protest the ridiculous notion of her killing her own brother, but Amon took the oppurtunity to shut her up, using a weak hand to pull her head down so that he could kiss her. His tongue slid into her mouth, cool and sweet with a hint of metallic blood. She tasted the way she looked- warm and full of smiles and helpful thoughts. If she was surprised, or if she even objected, she didn't show it, for she didn't make any motion to break the kiss, only to deepen it. Infact, he was the one to break it, coughing for air. She pulled away and looked at him, eyes glazed over with thoughtfulness.
"S-sorry," he managed to gasp. "That...that was just a...sudden urge."
She looked at him, the sorrow he had spotted once again sneaking out of it's hiding place behind her other emotions and showing itself fully, twinkling in the light of the stars and the moon. "No," she muttered dreamily. "I'm going to be your wife, remember?"
And she smiled, the sorrow spreading itself all over her face.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"AMOOONNN~"
An annoyingly over exagerated cheerful voice shot through Amon's head and his sleep, forcing him to wake up and pop his head out of the cocoon of a blanket he'd wrapped around himself to keep the cold coming off the floor from seeping in. He growled; Butterfly was back.
"You're still sleeping? I left three hours ago! Come on, get up lazy. I've got a surprise for you." Butterfly kicked him none too gently in the side and with another growl, Amon emerged completely from the blanket and glared at the girl standing above him.
"Well I had a long night so my sleeping in is perfectly justifiable," Amon grumbled. Butterfly smirked and leaned over, then poked him square in the forehead.
"Well I had a long night too but you don't see me complaining. Now come on, I have a surprise for you," Butterfly said. Amon grinned to himself as a wicked idea formed in his mind. He grabbed the other teen by the ankle and pulled her forward, causing Butterfly's smirk to transform into surprise as she fell and landed with an "Umph!" on top of Amon and the blanket. Slightly winded but certainly not giving up on his plan, Amon rolled over and climbed atop the other girl, straddling her.
"Ha! Gotcha!" He licked his lips and smiled brightly, proud of himself.
"Okay, time to get your royal self OFF me now," Butterfly instructed. She was trying to look stern but the corner of her mouth curled upward into a smile, completely ruining the look she was going for.
"But I don't want~ to~," Amon pouted, cocking his head to the side.
"Well, you've got to. I have something to show you!" She was serious this time, Amon could tell. He yawned and pressed himself up, sighing at her. "You know you're completely abusing a seventeen year old guy? It's only 6 am! You're usually the one to wake up later."
0000000
Amon almost had to run to keep up with Butterfly. She was obviously very happy for some reason- a smile was gracing her deep features. She looked like she didn't have a care in the world. Amon liked it when she was happy. And he liked it when Butterfly was this happy with him. Maybe he still wasn't sure what love was, but he had passed the possessive part of the test with flying colors.
What she finally showed him was a small, golden box. It wasn't decorated- just a small, shining golden box- but it was fascinating. The boy thought he could stare at it for hours on end. Butterfly's chocolate eyes twinkled in amusement as Amon watched the unmoving box in awe. "It's a music box," she explained softly, whispering into and tickling his ear, as if not wanting to disturb the moment. "If you open it, music plays. I bought it for you so...you know, maybe you can listen to it when i'm gone."
She noticed the color draining from her brother's face before she was slammed into a nearby, cream white wall. Not harshly, but slammed nevertheless. She looked up to see burning, passionate black eyes studying at her. And she saw the fear, the helplessness and hurt in them. "I-," she started, tears welling up in her eyes. "I didn't mean...i'd leave you..or i'd go anywhere. I just meant...if I.." She trailed off, unable to continue.
He pulled her into a hug, desperate, unsatisfied, hungry. Red red red red. A hint, a foreshadowing of someone's leave..."Promise me," he whispered, the thought of losing her suddenly horrifying him. "Promise me you won't leave me here."
She was silent for a moment, as if deciding what she should say. Then she snaked a thin arm around his broad back and gave him a tight squeeze. "... I promise."
And the two stood there, hugging each other and seeking out comfort, the golden music box completely forgotten.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"You know," Butterfly called out to the younger man tossing around pots and pans in the kitchen. "You don't have to learn how to cook."
The twenty year old boy grinned. "I know. But it's your birthday."
The girl smiled, grateful. "And you thought the black rose you gave me wasn't enough?"
"No." Clank clank.
"How about the glass butterfly you made?"
"Nope." Clank clank.
"Orrrr the dance?"
"Nuh-uh."
"Look, I can come up with a billion of other presents but you'll say 'no' to all of them, right?"
"Right."
"...How about you just give me a birthday kiss?"
"Now you're talking." The man appeared at the doorway with a smile on his face, his eyes shining with amusement. It was their joke, the birthday kiss.
He licked his lips sensually and leaned down to connect his mouth with Butterfly's, instantly pushing his probing tongue into the other's mouth. And then he broke it, suddenly. Instead, he kissed the corner of Butterfly's lips and then the contour of her cheek before completely pulling away.
"Happy birthday."
"Thanks." She pulled him closer and leaned on his shoulder, rocking back and forth, slowly. "You know," she whispered into the darkness of the unlighted room. "If you really really love each other, you can find each other after rebirth. You, like, recognize each other."
"That sounds like those crappy stories adults tell you to get you to go to love your enemies or something."
"No, it's true!"
"You sure?"
"I swear! Tell you what, we'll meet in our afterlife! I'll be reborn exactly as I am right now, and i'll love you."
"Uh-huh."
"I'm serious!"
Amon laughed, pulling away from his childish sibling. "Sure. I'll look forward to meeting you again. For now, I think i'll cook."
Butterfly fake- sighed, trying to hide a smile. "You'll never give up, will you?"
"No."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
The wind chimed in, brushing against the twenty-four year old boy's sculpture-like bare torso. He twirled his long, silky dark black hair with a pale, slim finger, chewing boredly on his bottom lip, his dark eyes half lidded. Familiar footsteps sounded through the room, followed quickly by the owner of the sound- Butterfly. She had a smirk on her face, despite the fact that she had just ran from her room all the way to his- the former king's.
"So," she said, mock-bowing. "Hello, your majesty."
He played along, his face expressionless and stony as he waved his long fingers against the current of the wind. "Leave the tea and go, my maid."
"But," his older sister said playfully, pouncing on his half-naked figure. "I'm not your maid!"
He collected the thin figure in his arms and placed her on top of him, watching her snuggle up to his chest with a small grin. She pressed her ear to the left side of his chest, listening for his heart beat, her hair falling over and tickling him. "You're the king now," she whispered, her voice velvety. "How does it feel, your majesty?"
"It feels..." he searched for the word, and came up with the only thing he felt at the moment. "...ticklish."
She laughed her special, sunny laugh, and swung her hair over her shoulder, propping herself up on him with her elbows. Then her expression softened. "We're getting married soon, huh?"
"Yeah," he whispered back. "We are."
The same sorrow he had remembered on her face nine years ago returned, forming the same smile on her older, more mature face. It was haunting. But once again, it quickly faded away, replaced by a mischevious grin.
"Sing me a song, lover. Sing me a song of our futures together."
Butterfly began idly drawing random designs on Amon's skin.
"What?"
She looked up at him, brown eyes positively sparkling with love and happiness, and she smiled and said it again.
"Sing me a song, lover. Sing me a song of our futures together."
Amon smiled and played along, telling Butterfly he couldn't sing and pouting and laughing with her.
"I love you, Amon."
He felt like his heart would burst with overflowing happiness, that he didn't deserve this, and he was afraid that if he spoke... the moment would be ruined, the fantasy would break, the dream would shatter and he'd wake up. He was speechless with joy, unable to open his mouth and reply, tell her that he too loved her to no ends. But she seemed content without an answer, continuing to snuggle into his chest and trace out circles and squares and triangles on his chest.
He, stupidly, thought that he would never have wake up.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"She's gone, majesty!"
Red. Red everywhere.
Sing me a song, lover...
0000000
All that was left of her was her empty room and the memories of her lingering smile in his memories.
She was gone.
And he was alone. In her room, full of her scent and her posessions and...the golden box that she had given to him, but was forgotten about in the drama of that day. It was all wrong. Everything about her, everything, was here, would always be here.
But she wouldn't be.
"Sing me a song lover. Sing me a song of our futures together."
The promise was broken. There would be no singing tonight. The time for singing was over. There would be no future between the two of them. The only thing there could be was an empty room and enough madness to fill him with it. Because that's what love was, after all. That's what their love had always been. A blank, an empty room, where he was always inside the room, two steps behind her, where she had just left. It was madness for him to hope, madness for him to dream, madness for him to think that one day they could be happy together. Madness to think that they could even have a future.
It bubbled up from deep within him and stuck in his throat like a bone. It stayed there for a second or two, then Amon could hold it back no longer. He began to laugh. Small laughs at first, then his laughter become so extreme that his shoulders were shaking and the tears that ran down his face were no longer because he was crying but because he was laughing and because he could not stop. It wasn't funny, it was horrible and disgusting and made him sick but he couldn't stop it any more than he could bring his wife back to him.
He didn't know how long he sat there, laughing his mad, uncontrollable laughter, cradling the cold golden box in his arms. He didn't know how many times he tried to stop but couldn't. He didn't realize that his limbs turned numb and the tears on his hands and clothes and face dried. The dream had shattered. She was gone.
Naughty boy. I told you to be careful.
She was gone and the world was red, and it was slowly consuming him. The red was taking over, covering him in it, making him cold, making him lonely, making him want to feel Butterfly once more. The red came closer and then it was all that he could see. His sight was red again, now in both eyes instead of only one, and his Butterfly was no longer here to help him recover from his fatal injuries. She was gone.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"Butterfly."
If you really, really love each other, you can find each other...
The unending cement seemed wider, farther- they seemed to be isolated. The girl's brown eyes flashed, knowingly, softly, almost... almost happily.
"I..."
She cleared her throat, her voice hoarse from too much exposal to the cold wind surrounding her. With a furious shake of her head, her hair tossing around, she tried again.
"I... don't know who you're talking about."
The strange man with the black umbrella seemed to tense, seemed to search for something in her eyes. He made her feel uncomfortable, a mere stranger studying her as if they knew each other well. Who was he, even?
"...Ah," he replied, his voice cold and hard and stony. "Forgive me. You look alot like someone I know." With this the man gave her a final, last stare and turned, black trench coat flying behind him as he whipped around and left, dissapearing into the darkness of the rain.
There was sorrow in his eyes. She was positive, she had seen a flicker of longing and sadness in his eyes before they had dissapeared into blunt coldness.
Deciding not to pay too much attention to the stranger, she held her umbrella more closely and walked away...
...Ignorant of the figure studying her, choking with unshed tears from a steady distance away.
And words, whispered softly into her back, words he could never say in front of her, never boldly.
"I love you, Butterfly."
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Sing me a song, lover.
Sing me a song, my starry-eyed lover.
Sing to me of life and death.
Sing to me of a close we almost had.
Sing me a song my poor, ill-fated lover.