#54 butterfly, don't fly away
Prompt Number: #54
Author: eterninitys
Title butterfly, don't fly away
Words: 2571
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: major character death, too many time skips
Summary:“Thank you for making me your muse?”
Author’s Note: Mods, you guys are seriously the best mods ever and I'm really sorry for all the troubles I've caused. B, thank you for the ideas and your kind help. And not to forget A, whom I love so much. Thank you for everything, dear.
Sunday morning is a summer breeze breathing through the cracks of the walls, birds chirping to sweet melodies, and scents of coffee and cigarette smoke mingling into the air before they dissipate.
At the corner of the confined room, Yifan has his cig stuck between his lips. A cup of warm black coffee-his favourite kind of coffee-has been carefully put on the small desk next to him. A half-finished painting stands silently in front of him; a blue mountain in mid-December with snow on top of the peak, blue and white blending into one. He thinks something is missing, but he doesn’t know what it is.
Perhaps it isn't the painting. Maybe it's just something inside him.
Tilting his head to the side, he puffs out the smoke and crushes the burnt stick somewhere on the desk, leaving a black mark on it. Sighing, he runs his fingers through his hair, feeling lost.
This won't do, Yifan grunts to himself before he grabs the canvas-for the nth time that day-and places it against the side of the wall, somewhere along the other unfinished canvases.
He grabs a new brush and dips it in a brown coloured paint. The image of someone he is too familiar with pops up in his mind out of nowhere; someone he has remembered by heart.
A forced smile makes its way on Yifan's lips, and he lets the brush paint another story; the same one he has been telling to himself for years.
It happened almost two years ago.
Everything happened too fast for his mind to register; a fleeting glimpse and thoughts running around frantically in his mind with the passing of the seconds.
Yifan looked over his shoulder, blinking his eyes rapidly in confusion. What just happened?
He was sure he saw a glimpse of someone walking past him; someone who just caught his attention, completely distracting his mind.
The stranger was no longer there, though. He was probably gone and lost in the sea of busy streets and walking people going to work, by the time Yifan realized something was missing. His eyes scanned the crowd, determined in the way he looked around, but there was no sign of that person anywhere.
Yifan was never the type who’d let things go so easily, so he weaved his way through the labyrinth of faces, shoulders bumping messily with strangers’ at times and eyes sweeping everywhere in search of that young man, but to no avail.
His mind replayed the scene and flew back to the blurred image of the silhouette he walked past earlier; he remembered a soft yellow shirt and the smell of lavender soap, but that was about all. There was nothing more.
It was amazing how a complete stranger could make him feel this way.
His chest heaved up and down heavily, trying to catch his breath once he stopped searching for that stranger. Frustration filled up his mind at the thought of losing sight of the man, and he had almost forgotten that he was late for his lunch appointment. Letting out one big sigh, he pulled out a notebook from his sling bag and held a pen in the other hand. Messy and rushed penmanship got written on an empty page, but he didn’t mind it as long as he understood the words for his own reference later.
Puppy face. Yellow shirt. Brunette. Lavender.
A warm feeling took up a huge space of his heart as he read the words one by one in silence, and with that, he guessed that was enough for now. He would probably come back tomorrow and see if he could still meet the guy in this area.
But who was he kidding?
This was Seoul. It was nearly impossible to meet someone again after having stumbled upon them in the middle of the busy and crowded streets. Chances were there, but he knew it was something unreachable. He chuckled at his stupidity, hands palming his face as he realized how low the chance would be for him to meet the guy again.
Little did he know that it would probably be the only time he met the guy.
Yifan lets out a heavy sigh when the memory of his first meeting with that young man appeared again.
After he puts away the paintbrush in a glass of coloured water, he takes a final look at the finished painting-a portrait of the same stranger who’s always in his mind-and bites his lips.
How many times has he drawn the same painting over and over again? A hundred times? Or is it even more? A familiar strike of pain hits his chest at the thought of that.
“Is it the same person again?" A soft voice asks him. It's his old friend, Lu Han. Yifan turns around and sees the man walk towards the drawing. He responds to the question with a hum a few seconds later, earning a look from his friend.
What else does he have to say? Lu Han knows the answer to the question clearly, so there is definitely no need to explain everything all over again. Yifan wipes his hands clean with a cloth, not giving the other man a look.
"It's been two years. Aren’t you sick of drawing the same portrait for over two years?" Lu Han asks. He pulls out a stool and sits near to Yifan, studying the latter's lazy movement.
Yifan shrugs-no further words are said.
“Don't you think that you're being way too obsessive with this person? You never met him anyway. Isn't that weird?” Lu Han adds, pointing his finger at the drawing. It's a drawing of a person in a yellow shirt in the middle of a black crowd-and there are more similar paintings kept in Yifan's room. Lu Han knows that fact. He has seen those paintings before.
“And I still believe that he isn’t your soulmate, though,” Lu Han adds silently.
“Go away, Lu Han. I’m tired."
There is a silence enveloping the space between them before Lu Han replies, ”Move on, Yifan. I’m serious. We both know it's impossible to find him again. And I know he’s not the one. Stop wasting your time.”
Somehow, Yifan wants to believe everything Lu Han says because waiting surely brings pain to him. But his heart just won’t listen to his mind.
So, he pulls out a new canvas and ignores Lu Han, making the latter leave the room in disappointment.
“Can you tell us a bit about the man in the portrait?”
The cameras’ flashes around him surprise Yifan. He tries to smile and blinks his eyes a few times, adjusting his sight so he can look at each of the interviewers properly.
He has finally made it. Opening his own gallery was one of his big dreams, and he can’t even think of any better dream than this one. It’s not a big gallery, but it’s enough to show people what he has been working hard on finishing and creating masterpieces for over years.
And of course, one of his artworks would be the portrait of that stranger. He has five of the same portraits placed in the gallery, and it raises so many questions to the interviewers that Yifan finds it fascinating.
“I might disappoint many of you, though,” the painter takes a deep breath in between before he continues to say, “Truthfully, I don’t know who this person is. I have no idea who he is, where he comes from or what his whereabouts are at the moment.”
There are whispers and loud gasps surrounding him, probably surprised by the statement they just heard from the painter. Yifan’s lips curve up a little at the responses.
“Where did you find this man?” A journalist wearing spectacles asks him this time. Yifan turns to look at her, and notices that the glasses hang low on the bridge of her nose.
“I haven’t really met him face-to-face. I only saw a glimpse of his face in the middle of the streets. That was two years ago, though. But... something told me that he’s an interesting person. So I think it would be great if I can finally meet him.”
“How is it possible that you still remember his face?” Another question is asked.
Yifan offers a smile at the interviewer in front of him. “I don’t know. My heart just remembers.”
“Have you ever drawn anyone else other than this person?”
There’s a silence, and the crowd waits.
Yifan throws a look at the portrait that stands proudly before the crowd, and he smiles. “No. I don’t like drawing portraits. For me, they are harder to draw than other drawings. It’s a surprise for me, too, when I decided to draw this person, if I were to be honest. Maybe I’d draw more portraits in the future. It depends...” he pauses before he continues, “But I wish I could meet this person to express my gratitude for being my muse. He is the reason why I am here.”
“There’s a call for you.”
“Who is it?” Yifan answers without looking up. He is busy mixing colors on the palette, matching them to create the background on the empty canvas.
Lu Han leans against the wall, shrugging. “I don’t know. He didn’t tell me his name. He only told me he knows the person in those portraits you drew.”
A soft gasp escapes from Yifan’s lips upon hearing what Lu Han has just said. What?
He stands up, stumbling his way towards Lu Han who is waiting for him to respond. “Where’s the phone?”
“Here,” Lu Han says and hands the phone to the tall man.
Without wasting his time, Yifan grabs the phone, his fingers cold like ice. Will his dream come true? Will he get to see the man he has been drawing for years? Someone he has never met nor talked to even once in his life?
Yifan takes a deep breath before he continues to speak, “Wu Yifan speaking.”
“Hello.”
Maybe it’s just Yifan, but the man on the other line has a very soft voice, one that comes from heaven.
“Who is this?”
There’s a chuckle. “Ah, what a deep voice you have,” the caller comments.
Yifan has his brows knit upwards. What…
“My friend told me something yesterday and the news has really captured my attention. I heard I’ve made you famous,” the caller continues to say, the mysterious underlying tone is so clear it makes Yifan’sgoosebumps swell.
“Who is this?” Yifan repeats the question, eager to know the answer. Something inside Yifan tells him that miracles do exist.
“If you dare, come and find me.”
Yifan’s lips stretch into a smile.
“I will. I’ll find you wherever you are.”
A chuckle follows right after. Yifan’s heart swells at the soft laugh.
“Great. I’ll wait for you then.”
“Wait,” Yifan interrupts before the man could end the conversation. He bites his lips before saying, “At least tell me your name.”
There is a pause in between before Yifan hears the voice again.
“It’s Byun Baekhyun.”
The line is cut off before Yifan manages to respond. The corners of his lips turn slightly upwards when he places the phone away, hand still gripping it tightly.
Byun Baekhyun.
Baekhyun.
“What are you doing?” Lu Han asks when he sees Yifan rush towards his bedroom. He follows the tall man from behind, slightly frowning when he receives no response. He taps Yifan’s shoulder, and the latter turns around to face him properly.
"What are you doing?" Lu Han repeats the question.
“I need to search for something,” Yifan says. He’s taking out his laptop from underneath his pillow and sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Who called you just now?"
"Baekhyun." Yifan answers shortly, hands busily pressing the keyboard. The words Byun Baekhyun appear on the search box in the web browser.
"Baekhyun?"
Yifan sighs. "It's… really none of your business."
Lu Han raises his brows at the response. “Is he the same person in those paintings?”
Yifan nods.
“What did he tell you?”
“Nothing... He just told me his name.”
“That’s it?” Lu Han asks.
“And-” Yifan contemplates, trying to remember his conversation with the mysterious man on the phone earlier.
“And…?”
“He told me to find him,” Yifan says.
Lu Han sighs heavily. He is now crossing his arms against his chest. “Are you sure he is the same person? What if he’s just an impostor?”
Yifan turns to look at Lu Han who is standing behind him. He studies Lu Han’s face for a moment before proceeding to answer with an, “I don’t know.”
“See?” You don’t even know if he’s the right person. What if this is just a waste of time? If he was the same person in your drawings, he should’ve come here and met you instead of being mysterious like this. Don’t you think so?”
Yifan shakes his head, obviously clueless. “I don’t know, Han. I don’t have any clue about him. But… I have this feeling that he is the one I’ve been searching for.”
“How can you be so sure of that?” Lu Han asks, slightly irritated when he realizes that his friend won’t give up on his dream.
“It’s my heart, you know? It tells me everything.”
Yifan reads the address written on a crumpled paper he has brought along with him. He was surprised to know that Baekhyun’s house was located just a few states away from his-so close, so near to him-and he honestly couldn’t even think of any other possibilities that might happen once he would meet Baekhyun.
But maybe, maybe this possibility is the one that he has never thought of before.
Yifan stares at the crying woman before him-tears staining her cheeks and lips-and he can only chuckle silently at everything that is happening to him.
”He’s gone. Baekhyun’s gone. A car… a car hit him while he was on his way from a photography shop and everything just-”
And Yifan doesn’t listen to the rest of the words said. His mind goes blank at this and honestly, why does he have to face this? Why did the world take his happiness away from him?
The world is a cruel place to stay in and Yifan can no longer believe in miracles. Maybe there’s no such thing as a miracle.
He’s about to say something to the woman when he sees an opened envelope and some crumpled pictures-Baekhyun’s pictures-in the woman’s trembling hands. He remembers the smile. He recognizes it very well.
Without any words said, he takes the pictures from the woman and notices that a message had been written at the back side of the envelope, and that is when his heart crushes the most with no one else can save him anymore.
To: Yifan
Nice meeting you! These are my gifts for you and I hope you can finally draw something else based from these pictures! It can be boring if you keep drawing on the same picture, don’t you think so? :D And thank you for making me your muse?
Baekhyun
Author: eterninitys
Title butterfly, don't fly away
Words: 2571
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: major character death, too many time skips
Summary:“Thank you for making me your muse?”
Author’s Note: Mods, you guys are seriously the best mods ever and I'm really sorry for all the troubles I've caused. B, thank you for the ideas and your kind help. And not to forget A, whom I love so much. Thank you for everything, dear.
Sunday morning is a summer breeze breathing through the cracks of the walls, birds chirping to sweet melodies, and scents of coffee and cigarette smoke mingling into the air before they dissipate.
At the corner of the confined room, Yifan has his cig stuck between his lips. A cup of warm black coffee-his favourite kind of coffee-has been carefully put on the small desk next to him. A half-finished painting stands silently in front of him; a blue mountain in mid-December with snow on top of the peak, blue and white blending into one. He thinks something is missing, but he doesn’t know what it is.
Perhaps it isn't the painting. Maybe it's just something inside him.
Tilting his head to the side, he puffs out the smoke and crushes the burnt stick somewhere on the desk, leaving a black mark on it. Sighing, he runs his fingers through his hair, feeling lost.
This won't do, Yifan grunts to himself before he grabs the canvas-for the nth time that day-and places it against the side of the wall, somewhere along the other unfinished canvases.
He grabs a new brush and dips it in a brown coloured paint. The image of someone he is too familiar with pops up in his mind out of nowhere; someone he has remembered by heart.
A forced smile makes its way on Yifan's lips, and he lets the brush paint another story; the same one he has been telling to himself for years.
It happened almost two years ago.
Everything happened too fast for his mind to register; a fleeting glimpse and thoughts running around frantically in his mind with the passing of the seconds.
Yifan looked over his shoulder, blinking his eyes rapidly in confusion. What just happened?
He was sure he saw a glimpse of someone walking past him; someone who just caught his attention, completely distracting his mind.
The stranger was no longer there, though. He was probably gone and lost in the sea of busy streets and walking people going to work, by the time Yifan realized something was missing. His eyes scanned the crowd, determined in the way he looked around, but there was no sign of that person anywhere.
Yifan was never the type who’d let things go so easily, so he weaved his way through the labyrinth of faces, shoulders bumping messily with strangers’ at times and eyes sweeping everywhere in search of that young man, but to no avail.
His mind replayed the scene and flew back to the blurred image of the silhouette he walked past earlier; he remembered a soft yellow shirt and the smell of lavender soap, but that was about all. There was nothing more.
It was amazing how a complete stranger could make him feel this way.
His chest heaved up and down heavily, trying to catch his breath once he stopped searching for that stranger. Frustration filled up his mind at the thought of losing sight of the man, and he had almost forgotten that he was late for his lunch appointment. Letting out one big sigh, he pulled out a notebook from his sling bag and held a pen in the other hand. Messy and rushed penmanship got written on an empty page, but he didn’t mind it as long as he understood the words for his own reference later.
Puppy face. Yellow shirt. Brunette. Lavender.
A warm feeling took up a huge space of his heart as he read the words one by one in silence, and with that, he guessed that was enough for now. He would probably come back tomorrow and see if he could still meet the guy in this area.
But who was he kidding?
This was Seoul. It was nearly impossible to meet someone again after having stumbled upon them in the middle of the busy and crowded streets. Chances were there, but he knew it was something unreachable. He chuckled at his stupidity, hands palming his face as he realized how low the chance would be for him to meet the guy again.
Little did he know that it would probably be the only time he met the guy.
Yifan lets out a heavy sigh when the memory of his first meeting with that young man appeared again.
After he puts away the paintbrush in a glass of coloured water, he takes a final look at the finished painting-a portrait of the same stranger who’s always in his mind-and bites his lips.
How many times has he drawn the same painting over and over again? A hundred times? Or is it even more? A familiar strike of pain hits his chest at the thought of that.
“Is it the same person again?" A soft voice asks him. It's his old friend, Lu Han. Yifan turns around and sees the man walk towards the drawing. He responds to the question with a hum a few seconds later, earning a look from his friend.
What else does he have to say? Lu Han knows the answer to the question clearly, so there is definitely no need to explain everything all over again. Yifan wipes his hands clean with a cloth, not giving the other man a look.
"It's been two years. Aren’t you sick of drawing the same portrait for over two years?" Lu Han asks. He pulls out a stool and sits near to Yifan, studying the latter's lazy movement.
Yifan shrugs-no further words are said.
“Don't you think that you're being way too obsessive with this person? You never met him anyway. Isn't that weird?” Lu Han adds, pointing his finger at the drawing. It's a drawing of a person in a yellow shirt in the middle of a black crowd-and there are more similar paintings kept in Yifan's room. Lu Han knows that fact. He has seen those paintings before.
“And I still believe that he isn’t your soulmate, though,” Lu Han adds silently.
“Go away, Lu Han. I’m tired."
There is a silence enveloping the space between them before Lu Han replies, ”Move on, Yifan. I’m serious. We both know it's impossible to find him again. And I know he’s not the one. Stop wasting your time.”
Somehow, Yifan wants to believe everything Lu Han says because waiting surely brings pain to him. But his heart just won’t listen to his mind.
So, he pulls out a new canvas and ignores Lu Han, making the latter leave the room in disappointment.
“Can you tell us a bit about the man in the portrait?”
The cameras’ flashes around him surprise Yifan. He tries to smile and blinks his eyes a few times, adjusting his sight so he can look at each of the interviewers properly.
He has finally made it. Opening his own gallery was one of his big dreams, and he can’t even think of any better dream than this one. It’s not a big gallery, but it’s enough to show people what he has been working hard on finishing and creating masterpieces for over years.
And of course, one of his artworks would be the portrait of that stranger. He has five of the same portraits placed in the gallery, and it raises so many questions to the interviewers that Yifan finds it fascinating.
“I might disappoint many of you, though,” the painter takes a deep breath in between before he continues to say, “Truthfully, I don’t know who this person is. I have no idea who he is, where he comes from or what his whereabouts are at the moment.”
There are whispers and loud gasps surrounding him, probably surprised by the statement they just heard from the painter. Yifan’s lips curve up a little at the responses.
“Where did you find this man?” A journalist wearing spectacles asks him this time. Yifan turns to look at her, and notices that the glasses hang low on the bridge of her nose.
“I haven’t really met him face-to-face. I only saw a glimpse of his face in the middle of the streets. That was two years ago, though. But... something told me that he’s an interesting person. So I think it would be great if I can finally meet him.”
“How is it possible that you still remember his face?” Another question is asked.
Yifan offers a smile at the interviewer in front of him. “I don’t know. My heart just remembers.”
“Have you ever drawn anyone else other than this person?”
There’s a silence, and the crowd waits.
Yifan throws a look at the portrait that stands proudly before the crowd, and he smiles. “No. I don’t like drawing portraits. For me, they are harder to draw than other drawings. It’s a surprise for me, too, when I decided to draw this person, if I were to be honest. Maybe I’d draw more portraits in the future. It depends...” he pauses before he continues, “But I wish I could meet this person to express my gratitude for being my muse. He is the reason why I am here.”
“There’s a call for you.”
“Who is it?” Yifan answers without looking up. He is busy mixing colors on the palette, matching them to create the background on the empty canvas.
Lu Han leans against the wall, shrugging. “I don’t know. He didn’t tell me his name. He only told me he knows the person in those portraits you drew.”
A soft gasp escapes from Yifan’s lips upon hearing what Lu Han has just said. What?
He stands up, stumbling his way towards Lu Han who is waiting for him to respond. “Where’s the phone?”
“Here,” Lu Han says and hands the phone to the tall man.
Without wasting his time, Yifan grabs the phone, his fingers cold like ice. Will his dream come true? Will he get to see the man he has been drawing for years? Someone he has never met nor talked to even once in his life?
Yifan takes a deep breath before he continues to speak, “Wu Yifan speaking.”
“Hello.”
Maybe it’s just Yifan, but the man on the other line has a very soft voice, one that comes from heaven.
“Who is this?”
There’s a chuckle. “Ah, what a deep voice you have,” the caller comments.
Yifan has his brows knit upwards. What…
“My friend told me something yesterday and the news has really captured my attention. I heard I’ve made you famous,” the caller continues to say, the mysterious underlying tone is so clear it makes Yifan’sgoosebumps swell.
“Who is this?” Yifan repeats the question, eager to know the answer. Something inside Yifan tells him that miracles do exist.
“If you dare, come and find me.”
Yifan’s lips stretch into a smile.
“I will. I’ll find you wherever you are.”
A chuckle follows right after. Yifan’s heart swells at the soft laugh.
“Great. I’ll wait for you then.”
“Wait,” Yifan interrupts before the man could end the conversation. He bites his lips before saying, “At least tell me your name.”
There is a pause in between before Yifan hears the voice again.
“It’s Byun Baekhyun.”
The line is cut off before Yifan manages to respond. The corners of his lips turn slightly upwards when he places the phone away, hand still gripping it tightly.
Byun Baekhyun.
Baekhyun.
“What are you doing?” Lu Han asks when he sees Yifan rush towards his bedroom. He follows the tall man from behind, slightly frowning when he receives no response. He taps Yifan’s shoulder, and the latter turns around to face him properly.
"What are you doing?" Lu Han repeats the question.
“I need to search for something,” Yifan says. He’s taking out his laptop from underneath his pillow and sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Who called you just now?"
"Baekhyun." Yifan answers shortly, hands busily pressing the keyboard. The words Byun Baekhyun appear on the search box in the web browser.
"Baekhyun?"
Yifan sighs. "It's… really none of your business."
Lu Han raises his brows at the response. “Is he the same person in those paintings?”
Yifan nods.
“What did he tell you?”
“Nothing... He just told me his name.”
“That’s it?” Lu Han asks.
“And-” Yifan contemplates, trying to remember his conversation with the mysterious man on the phone earlier.
“And…?”
“He told me to find him,” Yifan says.
Lu Han sighs heavily. He is now crossing his arms against his chest. “Are you sure he is the same person? What if he’s just an impostor?”
Yifan turns to look at Lu Han who is standing behind him. He studies Lu Han’s face for a moment before proceeding to answer with an, “I don’t know.”
“See?” You don’t even know if he’s the right person. What if this is just a waste of time? If he was the same person in your drawings, he should’ve come here and met you instead of being mysterious like this. Don’t you think so?”
Yifan shakes his head, obviously clueless. “I don’t know, Han. I don’t have any clue about him. But… I have this feeling that he is the one I’ve been searching for.”
“How can you be so sure of that?” Lu Han asks, slightly irritated when he realizes that his friend won’t give up on his dream.
“It’s my heart, you know? It tells me everything.”
Yifan reads the address written on a crumpled paper he has brought along with him. He was surprised to know that Baekhyun’s house was located just a few states away from his-so close, so near to him-and he honestly couldn’t even think of any other possibilities that might happen once he would meet Baekhyun.
But maybe, maybe this possibility is the one that he has never thought of before.
Yifan stares at the crying woman before him-tears staining her cheeks and lips-and he can only chuckle silently at everything that is happening to him.
”He’s gone. Baekhyun’s gone. A car… a car hit him while he was on his way from a photography shop and everything just-”
And Yifan doesn’t listen to the rest of the words said. His mind goes blank at this and honestly, why does he have to face this? Why did the world take his happiness away from him?
The world is a cruel place to stay in and Yifan can no longer believe in miracles. Maybe there’s no such thing as a miracle.
He’s about to say something to the woman when he sees an opened envelope and some crumpled pictures-Baekhyun’s pictures-in the woman’s trembling hands. He remembers the smile. He recognizes it very well.
Without any words said, he takes the pictures from the woman and notices that a message had been written at the back side of the envelope, and that is when his heart crushes the most with no one else can save him anymore.
To: Yifan
Nice meeting you! These are my gifts for you and I hope you can finally draw something else based from these pictures! It can be boring if you keep drawing on the same picture, don’t you think so? :D And thank you for making me your muse?
Baekhyun