SDMN| Stories

• The Butterfly Project

Pale blue eyes met dusty shelves, taking time to read the spine of each aged novel and imagining the unique, detailed stories inside. With delicate hands he would hold the small world, reading the blurb before placing the book back and finding another.

Pacing down the isle, he stopped when he saw a dark, yet shiny book that caught his attention. Gold lines swirled down the spine, and it wasn't long before they were being traced by his soft fingertips. A small smile came to his bitten lips, teeth subconsciously digging into the flesh as he carried the novel to the check out.

"Name?" The librarian smiled with glossy lips, her skin housing delicate wrinkles that crowded her cheeks as she beamed at the boy.

Golden swirls shook as they were placed tenderly onto the desk, gentle leather meeting hard wood. Hesitating, he met her friendly brown eyes before he too, smiled.

"Haro- um, Harry Lewis... actually. Just Harry Lewis."  It was nothing more than a breath into the cold air, but it was enough to make the boy cringe at himself. A frown formed at his brow, however, her smile didn't falter and the soft clicking of keys became audible.

Harry noticed a slight rhythm in the tapping, and his finger seemed to follow it. He was good at that - finding a pattern in everyday sounds. It was a soothing method, but also something his mind was forcing him to do. Control, on the other hand, wasn't something he was good at; the boy acted on impulse, sometimes doing things he didn't want to before thinking it through. Impatience, it's called.

"Here you are," the book was pushed to his tapping hands, "It's a good read, that one. Have a good day now, love."

Love is such a weird word, he thinks as he turns and begins walking back to his seat. It's thrown around so loosely, becoming an overused expression more than something with deep meaning. He has love for his mother and father, siblings and other relatives. He does not have love for the librarian. Did the librarian have love for him?

The gold and leather was back in his arms, tucked neatly under his fingers and the bottom was pushing into his soft sweater. Harry liked his sweater.

"Hey, Vik. I found a book." Softly spoken words fell upon deaf ears as Harry sunk onto the cushioned booth seat, his hands coming to rest on the table next to the placed book.

Across from him was another boy, his head resting on his arms as his coat bagged around the sleeves. It was two sizes too big and wasn't usually worn inside, however, it was getting into the coldest winter months so it was allowed. Harry listened closely, staying silent himself. A few deep breaths and a greeting of a prolonged blink told him that Vik wasn't asleep.

After seeing no attempt from his friend to grab the book, Harry took it upon himself to open it. A few pages were carefully turned, stopping at chapter one. Now open, it was slid in front of the other boy.

The coat looked heavy as it lifted from the table, the small boy coming to life. He investigated the book with only his eyes before the muddy pools met an ocean. Blonde strands fell over the ocean like sun rays before cloudy fingers quickly moved them away.

"Thankyou, Harry."

"No worries, my friend." Vik gave a slight nod before pulling the book closer, feeling the old material that housed this treasure.

Harry watched as his expression changed, focusing  on the patterns of the spine rather than the lines of text on the page. Seconds passed before Vik looked up again, lips curled in the slightest of smiles.

"The cover is beautiful."

"I know."

They were whispering, cold breaths meeting with the even colder air despite how many layers they wore. School libraries always had something wrong with them, and this one seemed to have heating issues. The pair had watched countless maintenance workers come in and out, had waited days for their favourite place in the school to reopen due to the repairs, but to no avail.