Butterflies

Standing amongst the grass with her hands in her pockets, Violet waited as Billy said goodbye to Ryan. They had waited in a park for Grace to get him, and the emptying feeling in Violet's stomach only became a strange sublime. Alone with her thoughts, Violet traced back to her whole journey with Billy. Her mind was heavy, laced with the memories she was sure to be ending as the boys disbanded. After all they were all free from convictions, all free men... So what left her so vacant?

From what started as a simple tangle of words they couldn't think of saying, and words they didn't fully mean, Violet cared for Billy. And that was the easiest way of describing it. They were both lonely rowing boats, Billy riding through a storm that had already taken Violet, and when they collided in the middle he dragged her into his boat with him. It was just the two of them under the dark sky and grey clouds. And the boys as the stars that yelled from above. As she watched him delicately talk to Ryan, she believed she could see what Becca had described to her.

Grace appeared to her right as Violet peered over, still halting where she stood down the path. She was hoping that once he gave Ryan away he would take her hand again and they would go through the trees, back to where a car waited for them. She wanted to have lunch, Violet wanted to have their first day of freedom together. Billy got up and guided the child to the car Grace had called for them, Violet watching patiently. Perhaps she should say something to Grace, to thank her for everything she had brought. For taking her files away and storing them safely, for not letting her leave Billy those months ago.

Ryan got into the car without any complaints, and she could just see his eyes meet hers in the distance with his curiosity. She was too far to truly hear what Grace then said to Billy, but she could imagine the many sets of apologies he would receive after Becca. As Billy walked towards Grace, and he gazed at Violet, his face was gloomy. There was still something missing. Even after taking her hand, letting her lean close to him, there was a feeling that something was gone. Violet was scared of what it could be, scared like she was in the woods when she heard his screams. Was he listening to Grace, because his eyes were only on hers. He was still too far to wonder if his gaze was just forlorn or if there was something under the surface.

Passing Grace, he made his way towards her, until they were merely a metre apart. At first she thought he was scanning her face as though he was waiting for her to speak, but as his chest began to rise faster with each breath, he was locking an image of her in his mind. Violet opened her mouth but there were no words in the universe to piece together how she felt. How his hazel eyes ran down her hair like he was picturing his fingers running through it. Was he letting himself be consumed again, and if so why was he so rushed as he refused to let his hands move from his side? All they could do was flinch, desperate just to reach up to her cheek. It was only then Violet had any sense, any clue why he was staring at her like he was, like a dying man who sees an angel just over the hill of no return.

Her breathing shook as she smiled, wanting to change the feelings that began to radiate off of him, "I was thinking about what I could do now I'm free."

"Yeah?" He breathed like he just wanted to hear her voice, not like he was taking in what she was saying.

"I said before about teaching people music. I want to teach children, I want to watch them shine," that word felt so potent between them, like a single utter of it's vowels stung like nettles. He huffed out a laugh gently, his own cheeks rising just light enough for Violet to feel a race through her stomach. How can a face so hardened be so beautiful in her eyes? She wanted to run her hands through his hair then, up round his ears and resting on the back of his head. Violet wanted to project them into a soft bath of feathers and dusty clouds if it could show him anymore vulnerable than he was smiling.

Why was smiling such a vulnerable thing? Why can't a person share it to the entire world without someone wanted to cut it from their face to put it on their own? If we weren't so cynical of each other's smiles, maybe we would share them more. Why did you have to be weak to smile so much? Why is it not a test of strength to match mother nature with your gratitude? It will never be understood why some feel their smile is not wanted. Because surely, surely there is more than enough reason to see everyone's smile no matter how crooked or perfect, how shy or boastful, or how wide or shallow they were?

"I want you to be free with me," Violet whispered, "I want to be with you."

Cringing, Billy stared to his boots for a moment, before taking a step closer and taking her head in his hands, "you'll never be free if you're with me."

Heart shattering, Violet gripped the hands on her cheeks but they wouldn't move even when she tried to free herself from his grip. What was missing in him was not something she could fill with her fantasies. She could not cry. She would not. Sniffling, Violet shook her head.

"Billy, Billy please-"

"It's my fault. I'm not ready. You need time to heal sunshine," he used a nickname he hadn't in so long and Violet let out a shy sound as she tried to remove herself from his grip once more, "and that can't be with me."

"Please..."

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry," he took his hands from her face and suddenly she was hugging him, her mind going foggy as her arms were unable to wrap around him. He smelt of the leaves and smoke, and she inhaled it as if it could capture a part of him for her to keep. She thought if she used her powers somehow that would make him stay, make him realize she needed him. Like he needed her. His grief was floating in the air around him, mixed with guilt and other emotions Violet tried to rid from her conscious. It was guilt he was running from, and grief he couldn't escape.

Violet leaned back. In another lifetime she would have kissed him in that moment, but if she did then it would be too taunting. It would be pleasurable to allow herself his lips against hers, and Violet wouldn't let herself give in to such desires.

"And when your grief is over, where will it leave us?" She pondered, Billy squeezing her jumper slightly as they fully pulled away.

"I'll call you."

He walked away after that, down the pathway they were meant to go together. She didn't need to look over her shoulder to hear his footsteps get quieter, or feel any of the regret which would get him to run back. He was leaving her there, and even as her heart sunk, she hated that she understood why. Facing away from each other, neither saw the pain on the others face, and perhaps that was better for them. Who would want to see the last look on their lovers face as it faded away.

Does he not need her like she needed him? Violet betrayed her honour not to look around as she spun, watching his figure descend down the muddy path to his car. How could he rid himself of her? Was he not consumed as she truly thought? Turn around. Turn around. If only he just turned around. But he didn't. He would not betray his honour like Violet would, he would not give in temptations like she would. But Violet was weak and needed him to hold her, needed him to put her back together.

Crouching to her knees, Violet let out her tears she was holding in. She hated goodbyes. Why were they always so cold and emptying? How could you fill the void they left when the space they filled was so vast? Goodbyes hurt more when you didn't know when that call could be. It could be weeks, months, years until she heard from him again. How much would she have changed? Her hair would be back to what it was before, she would be healthy, happy, surely. Shaking her head, Violet let every last tear run down her face, wishing she would have kissed him.