The Butterfly and The Moth

54

A sigh escaped me, a puff of air that carried with it all the thoughts I had yet to speak. I nestled into Sterling, the comfort of his arms relaxing me.

"Sterling," I started again, an idea tugging at the corners of my mind. "Do you ever wish that we could just... run away? Together?"

The question was left hanging in the silence, its enormity stretching out between us. For a moment, Sterling was still beneath me.

"Yeah," he admitted, the word whispered against the silent room. "I do, Dahlia. I wish that more than anything."

There was a trace of wistfulness to his voice, a longing that mirrored my own. But even as he admitted it, I could feel the thread of reality tugging at the corners of our dream.

"But you can't come, can you?" I murmured into the darkness. The statement was not a question, but a sad acknowledgement of our circumstances.

"No," Sterling admitted, "I can't leave my family... and I can't leave August."

His admission filled the room, even though I already knew his love for August meant he could never leave with me. The knot in my chest tightened, my heart aching with the bittersweet understanding. It was nice that August had that. 

Even though he was a moth, he had a family of butterflies that would never leave him behind.

And yet, the wish, the longing for Sterling, clung to me stubbornly.

"I wish you could," I admitted. 

"Where will you go?" Sterling asked, breaking the silence that had settled over us once again. "Back home?"

His question stirred a bitter taste in my mouth, the memories of my past rising up like ghosts in the dark. The thought of returning to a place so tainted with pain made my stomach churn.

"No," I murmured, "there's nothing back home for me. Only painful memories... and a childhood I never got to have."

As my words floated in the dark room, the truth of them hung heavy between us. The past was something I could not outrun, a ghost that had left its mark on the core of my existence.

Sterling's arms tightened around me, offering silent comfort. 

"I don't know where I'll go," I admitted, the reality of my confession bringing with it a small sense of saddness. "Maybe I'll just go to the bus station and pick a place... any place."

"Doesn't it matter?" Sterling's voice was soft. "Where you'll go?"

"I guess it should," I confessed. "But all that matters to me is that it's not here. Not here, and not home either. Somewhere new, somewhere where no one knows who I am or what's happened to me. Somewhere where there are no expectations, no disappointments."

I could feel his gaze upon me, heavy and filled with concern. His hand traced circles on my arm, a comfort in the sea of the unknown.

"I don't want you to be alone, Dahlia," he sighed out, his words raw and sincere. "Aren't you scared to be alone?"

I let out a dry chuckle, an ironic twist of my lips accompanying the sound.

"No, Sterling," I stated, the truth bitter. "I'm not scared to be alone. I've been alone most of my life. Apart from my dad, no one ever cared about me enough to stick around... until you."

"Dahlia..." His voice was soft, a whisper carrying the weight of unspoken words. "I would come with you if I could. If it were possible, I wouldn't hesitate for a second to leave Sapphire Cove with you."