Butterfly Kisses | ✓

16 | verbena

V E R B E N A

[aloysia citrodora] ➳ tenderness.

ISAAC SAT WITH HIS legs stretched out on the grass, his face slanted towards the sky. I tiptoed around the remaining flower pots and watered between the stems until he spoke again.

"I ran away when I was sixteen." His expression was impassive, but his voice had acquired a gravelly texture. " I lived with my mom up until then, but she remarried and the guy's a dick. My dad has a new family, too. My step-brother's an asshole."

I considered this, my thoughts dancing as fragments tried to form constellations. After dousing and nearly drowning a peony plant in my daze, I found the safest response I could think of. "Those are strong words, Isaac."

He laughed, a bitter edge now attached to every sound that came from his throat. "You've never met them. It was hard to live in either of those houses, so I just left. My dad's always been on rough terms with his parents, so me staying with them was kind of a nice 'fuck you'."

I finally set the watering can down and sat next to him on the ground. I felt awkward just listening to him but it wasn't like I could take notes, so I fiddled with a long blade of grass to keep my hands occupied, unfamiliar with the unspoken trust that had suddenly blossomed between us.

The breeze billowed the loose fabric of my shirt and sent black curls floating in front of my face. He continued. "Anyway, it all fucked up when my grandpa went missing. My grandma wasn't doing so great, so last year she moved into a nursing home."

My eyebrows knotted. "You live alone?"

Isaac lifted his shoulder as though to say it is what it is. "It was hell at first," he admitted. "But I'm eighteen now, so once I graduate — if I graduate — all this is behind me."

For some reason, it was the fact that he was eighteen that sent a ripple of acknowledgement through my chest. Instinctively, my hand extended to touch his shoulder, but I changed my mind and reeled back at the last second, before he noticed. "You had a dog, though, so you weren't totally alone."

"Yeah. That kinda sucked. I loved it, but I had to feed him and stuff." He smiled at a patch of soil on the ground, yet to look me in the eye. "That's why I work at shelter — they gave us free dog food back when I needed it."

That didn't make me feel much better. I swallowed a lump in my throat. "Your parents weren't financially supporting you." For some reason, I was stating rather than asking.

Isaac nodded. "Legally, they didn't have to, since I was sixteen when I ran. They were both pissed, so they just started pretending I never existed."

For a moment, we both just stared at the fading sun, its rays leaking light through the tall buildings on the other side of town. Then, in an obvious effort to lighten the mood, he added, "Dogs are crazy good company, though. It was worth it. And for the record, Oberon liked that one best."

He pointed at a shrub of yellow forsythias.

"What?" I blinked, taken out of my reverie. "Those aren't in bloom anymore."

"They were two months ago." He chuckled, leaning in as though he was about to reveal his biggest secret yet. "You know how we only adopted Oberon after we found him wandering around on the streets one day? There was something weird about him from the start; he was antisocial, kinda reluctant to do anything. But he'd willingly crawl under that fence —" he pointed to it, "and run up to sniff your flowers all of the time."

His voice went quiet. "He liked them so much."

All this time, I'd struggled to comprehend why he'd ever stolen from me.

But now we'd come full circle. In that moment, I saw Isaac with the startling clarity of complete tunnel vision. Just earlier in the day he'd accidentally given my father the second-most terrifying experience of his life, but right now, he was a dimpled smile and the signal that sent my heart into overdrive. 

"I like you," I whispered.

And just like that, I'd snatched him out of the moment too. His eyes widened, finally allowing me to take in the green of his irises. "What?"

"It's stupid," I said quickly, heat radiating from my cheeks and my lungs constricting. "Nothing, it's just —"

"No," he said. "I like you, too. I like you a lot."

While  the sun had been setting all along, I didn't notice the starkness of our shadows beneath us until now. Isaac nudged closer, and I gravitated towards him in the same fashion. 

Reality slammed hard into me when I realized at least one of my parents was still inside the house. I bit my lip, unsure what we were supposed to do next. I wanted to say it again, and hear him say it again, because despite every compliment he'd given me and every meaningful look I'd given him, it still felt surreal.

But instead of repeating my feelings, I slid my hand off the grass and found the necklace hanging over my chest. The hard silver offered me no comfort, and the familiar ridges of the butterfly's wings only sent nervous oscillations up my spine all over again.

A shadow crossed Isaac's face. "I don't know why I said that," I mumbled, trying to fill the silence. The nape of my neck felt damp and further down my back I was sweating profusely. I straightened, knowing that if we got any closer I'd feel his breath on my face, and I doubted I could handle that right now. "I wasn't going to say it."

He watched me fidget with the necklace for a moment longer, a tiny smile invading his cheeks. "Well, it's only embarrassing if the other person doesn't like you back, so you're all good."

"Shut up," I said automatically. He grinned. "If it wasn't for the fact that you literally only have one shirt, I would throw dirt at you right now."

"Ren." Isaac stifled his laughter. "I have more than one shirt."

I scrunched my nose up at his hoodie. I was almost certain he was wearing his usual white t-shirt underneath. "Prove it."

He brushed a hand through his auburn hair. "I don't see the point," he said, "when I've already impressed you."

I didn't see the point in flinging dirt at him either, but I did it anyway. It was a perfect throw; brown specks burst off his shoulder as the sky doused its orange with purple. 

He retaliated instantly, grabbing soil from the peony pot and hurling it the tips of my hair, which bristled in the wind. Even as my mouth fell open and I chucked another handful of dirt right back at him, the air felt alive, suffused with the sweetness of the memory we were making.  

When Isaac eventually left my house, it through the front door instead of the broken gate, cementing the fact that he'd been upgraded from local thief to welcome guest. After shutting the door, I lingered in the hallway and toyed restlessly with the butterfly over my chest. 

And between moments of terrifying optimism, I came to a conclusion about why wearing the necklace had always felt so right: because between two beating wings, I had a heart tugged in opposite directions, threatening to break me in half.