The Butterfly and The Moth

36

"Morning."

My voice was light as I whispered into the open door of Sterling's room. The lights were still off,  but I had heard his footsteps moving around his room.

The soft orange light of the sunrise was floating through the small window on his wall. It was the kind of light that made visible the small specks of dusts; the ones that entrance you for just a moment, and make you wonder what else you're not seeing if the perfect light isn't shining on it.

Sterling's head whipped up, suddenly like he was surprised by my greeting. I felt my lips form a smile when I saw his messy hair, and the shock on his face.

"Dahlia, good morning," he stammered, his eyes still clouded with sleep, though they danced with amusement at my unexpected appearance. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, attempting to tame it.

"Were you sleeping?" I asked, thinking perhaps the footsteps I heard were misleading, and just a trip to the bathroom before falling back into bed.

"I was almost asleep," Sterling told me, but the groggy-ness in his voice betrayed him. "I wasn't, though."

I raised an eyebrow at him, and the smile on my lips grew bigger. I felt lighter today. I wondered if that was okay. A part of me didn't think so, it felt like I had lost the right to be happy. It felt like happiness didn't belong in my body, or in my mind any longer. The Dahlia that deserved happiness was gone, wasn't she?

"Are you sure?" I said simply, and even though my brain was arguing against my right to happiness, I still smiled.

"Alright, alright," Sterling chuckled, wiping his eyes. "You caught me."

I laughed, just lightly. I strayed at his door-step, feeling like he was inside a house that I hadn't been invited into. My eyes wandered around his room. It seemed like him, or rather, the him that I had met when I first arrived in Sapphire Cove. There were trophies all over the shelves, basketball, from the looks of it. There were pictures of him playing, too.

My gaze returned to Sterling, who was now on his feet, stretching his long limbs. "You were quite the athlete," I mused, my voice carrying a playful tone.

Sterling smirked, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "I had my moments," he admitted, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. He seemed to appreciate the memories, but he didn't dwell on them for too long.

I continued my glance around his room. I hadn't noticed it before, but there were hints of the Sterling I was now getting to know. Scattered between the pictures of him playing ball, and him with his friends, were pictures of him and August. They seemed to capture small, innocent moments. Sterling pushing August on a swing set; a much younger Sterling holding a baby August; Sterling playing legos on the floor with August.

I turned back to him, slightly stunned to see that he was now fully dressed. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, seemingly watching me look at the pictures. He didn't speak, he was just looking at me. His eyes seemed too busy, and I wondered why they would be.

"You brought me my blanket," I said, leaning against the door frame, the shadows of the room casting a warm glow upon my face.

Sterling looked back at me, just for a second before he dropped his eyes to the floor. He scratched the back of his neck, as though he was trying to find the time to say the right thing. I wasn't sure why. All his words in the last few days had been perfect.

Finally, after what seemed like a few minutes but in reality, was only a few seconds, he looked back up at me. "I could hear you tossing and turning. The whole point of you staying here was so that you could rest. You weren't very restful."