Phan oneshots

Butterflies to moths

Word count: 557

Warnings: Falling out of love.
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Butterflies. Scientifically known as Rhopalocera. Such simple looking creatures. There's nothing at all unusual about this common insect. Wings, legs, eyes, antennae.  Yet something about these Arthropods make them the spotlight of romantic analogy.

The butterflies live inside your emotions, unnoticed and slumbering. They don't stir until a certain thing causes them to suddenly erupt. Maybe it's a person, a phrase, an event. Whatever it is, it causes a feeling to well inside you, and the butterflies awaken. It's a pleasantly beautiful feeling, just like the butterflies themselves. They flutter madly inside, the tips of their wings barely brushing against the lining of your stomach. It tickles, makes you feel giddy and happy. Even long after the object of your excitement leaves, it takes a long time before the butterflies settle down and sleep once more.

Phil felt butterflies.

A simple glance, hearing him speak, learning he was present all sent the swarm of butterflies in his stomach flying. Along with the fluttering of butterflies was a happy blush and rush of adrenaline. Dan was the object of his butterflies. He yearned to feel his flower-pink lips, touch his breezy-soft hair. He was sure he would smell like a peaceful field, brimming with tranquil nature.

Even long after his wish was fulfilled, the butterflies remained. Even when he could freely kiss, caress, and love Dan, the familiar jittery feeling in his gut was there. Although the infatuation had evened out into healthy affection, the butterflies still danced when he was around him. He still blushed when the other called him beautiful. His heart still thumped at the sight of his bare skin.

He thought the butterflies would always remain.

Then something changed.

No longer did the fluttering feeling bring Phil happiness. Now it made him anxious. Now it made him want to vomit for hope of relieving the tension he felt. It was if over time the butterflies had spoiled like milk.

Why did touches that formerly made him relaxed now feel like nails scratching him? When did soft kisses turn so suffocating? How come he felt uncomfortable at the sight of the others exposed body?

The butterflies had turned into moths.

Dan noticed. He noticed while the butterflies were evolving. He couldn't see them, but he knew. The other tried to hide it, but he still knew. A distance grew between them. When Dan asked the other about his behavior, he only got a laugh and a string of reassurances. A string of lies. Eventually the butterflies withered and dried up, and their color was completely gone. Now brown, dusty, and dull, they felt like rocks in the pit of Phil's stomach. They brought him guilt. The butterflies were still present with Dan, still flying, but now accompanied by a certain weight. A sadness pulled down on their wings, made them slow.

Inside of Dan, the butterflies were still fluttering, but now alone.

Inside of Phil, the butterflies had mutated into moths, and he didn't know how to turn them back.

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I've been on a role with these angsty fics recently. Guess I've been reading quite a lot of tragedy/angst material and I've begun to appreciate them. They're sad, but more mature than the throw-up-because-it's-so-cute writing I've down so far.

This one was kinda like the last one in that there wasn't really a running plot, more of just a walk-through monologue of emotion. I'll probably do more of these which have a sort of theme and purpose behind them.

See you soon!

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