Chasing Butterflies

Colors

"Hey Jimin, isn't that your jacket?"

The rapid smacking of feet on the ground echoed across the otherwise silent street. Izzy was still in her haze. At this point she could scarcely differentiate between up and down.

"Hey!" Another voice screamed out. She counted at least four of them so far. Either it was a group of guys or Izzy was just hallucinating this whole thing.

"Hey lady!" It called again. Izzy ignored it. She didn't recognize this voice, so she kept walking. She had an ex-boyfriend to tell off. And a disembodied voice that probably wasn't even talking to her was not going to distract her from her mission.

A sudden pull on her elbow tugged her to a stop. It was the arm that she had been scratching earlier. The leather of her jacket dug into the cuts, sending a bolt of pain up her arm. Izzy turned slowly, still not being very stable on her feet. Her bleary eyes were met with pink leather. The pastel jacket hung comfortably on his shoulders. Izzy's red eyes barely made out the vague form of a man. All she managed to see was white boots, blue jeans, and that pink jacket before the colors started moving and mixing together.

"Hey, are you okay?" His voice cut through the fog in her head.

She shook her head to clear the mist. It worked just a bit, enough for her to realize that he still had a hold on her elbow. Izzy quickly tugged her arm out of his grip, taking a small step back. She squinted hard, trying to see the man that was standing right in front of her.

His brown hair was streaked with green, and a black choker circled his neck. The chocolate brown of his eyes swam in and out of her vision as she struggled to focus on his features.

His hands reached out hesitantly and took hold of her shoulders. The pink-clad man steadied her frame, which she hadn't realized was swaying dangerously back and forth, on the verge of falling over.

"Um are you okay?" He asked once again.

Izzy threw her head from side to side again and this time some of the fog cleared out, allowing her to see. For the first time, she noticed the hoard of guys standing in front of her. There was seven of them, if she was counting correctly, and in her state she couldn't be sure that she was.

"Tae, maybe you should let go of her?" A tall boy with bleached hair said to his friend. He was the voice she heard across the street earlier. He also wasn't bad looking.

Actually, they were all attractive. Had she passed out during her trip and landed in some weird, hot-guy-infested dream? Well, she wasn't complaining. Izzy only wished that she wasn't so stoned right now, then maybe she could look at them without looking like a squinting idiot.

They looked at her wearily, still waiting for her answer. "Um," her voice sounded like sandpaper, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired, sorry," Izzy rubbed the heels of her hands against her eyes to make the lie more convincing.

They seemed to buy it. At least she hoped.

"No offense or anything, but do you always stop random girls you don't know on the street?" Now that she was coming to her senses, Izzy could rationally scrutinize the situation. And the situation was weird.

Pink-jacket guy, was Tae his name? His face flushed, cheeks turning a cute shade of pink. "W–well no. I just um, I saw th–your jacket and well I—" a hand came out of nowhere and covered his mouth, cutting off his nervous sentences.

"Taehyung it might be better if you just sit this one out," the guy who did the mouth-covering spoke. This man extended his free hand to Izzy, which she hesitantly shook.

"Hi I'm Jin, it's nice to meet you. Sorry about this one," his eyes flickered to Tae, "But we were across the street and noticed your jacket." One of the guys in the back elbowed his orange haired friend in the ribs. With lots of gesturing and eyebrow movement they had some sort of unspoken conversation between themselves. Meanwhile, Jin kept talking to Izzy, whose attention was obviously split.

"What about my jacket?" She questioned, a bit hesitant. The orange haired boy in the back of the group fidgeted where he stood, the tips of his ears were burning red. His friend in the green and black jacket kept staring at him, also looking anxious. Izzy knew she was stoned and not in her right mind at the moment, but she was sober enough to know that they were keeping something from the rest of their friends.

"Well our friend Jimin here," a guy with bluish green hair shoved the boy to the front of the group, "He lost his jacket a few days ago, and you're sort of wearing it." Jin looked a bit awkward at having to confront her about this. The boy that had grabbed her, Taehyung, was still blushing, now hiding partially behind his friend in the loose blue sweater, who had thrown an arm around him.

Izzy just stood there, eyes darting between Jin and the orange haired boy, who looked indescribably flustered. She noticed that, despite the biting wind, he wasn't wearing a jacket, just a thin white t-shirt. Maybe the jacket really was his?

"Look, I don't know where I got this jacket. I fell asleep in some railway station the other day and when I woke up it was laying on top of me," she let out a sigh. She didn't have the energy or the will power to continue this conversation. She was angry before, but this conversation was making her lose steam, and her anger was fading. She couldn't have that. Izzy would need all the rage she could muster up in order to deal with Youngkyun.

The group of boys in front of her just continued to stare at her, as if they were waiting for an answer to fall from the sky. Izzy didn't have time for this. She needed her stuff and she needed it soon, because the clothes Cassie had given her were not going to cut it. She could feel beneath the jacket that the thin white tank top had risen up her stomach. They stood silent for a total of 72 seconds—Izzy counted—before she rolled her eyes and let out a frustrated breath. She ripped the jacket off her shoulders, ignoring the icy wind that pierced her skin, and threw the turquoise leather at the orange haired boy.

"Just take it. I have places to be." Well only one place, but she still turned and stomped away, letting the slapping of her boots on the pavement distract her from the cold. Her numb ears tried to make out the shouts behind her, but her mind didn't really want to listen.

"Wait!" Izzy's pace sped up. She didn't want to hear whatever it was that they wanted to say. "Hold on!" One voice shouted frantically after her but she just kept walking, finally able to see the door to her old apartment building.

Izzy yanked open the rusty metal door. Running feet echoed through the street behind her. She practically sprinted up the stairs, her anger was newly fueled. Four flights of grimy stairs later, she found herself standing in front of that familiar black door. She realized in this moment that she could turn back. She could rise above how that jerk dumped her and she could walk away. If she just let it go, Izzy would never have to see him again.

She froze, her fist just an inch away from the black wood.

Maybe it was the drugs in her system, but for once, Izzy didn't want to be the bigger person. Her fist reached out on its own and pounded on the door. She didn't care if he was asleep or busy; Izzy just kept banging on the door.

The old wood finally swung open, revealing his shirtless body. Youngkyun wore gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips and nothing else. Izzy couldn't help but notice the fresh hickey on his neck. His face scrunched up at the sight of her.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He grumbled out. His annoyance at her sudden arrival made Izzy even more angry.

"I'm here to get my stuff," she snapped at him. "If you think back, you'll remember how you kicked me out of here at midnight, with no stuff and nowhere to go." Izzy was outright pissed. And she was not going to let this ass of an ex-boyfriend throw her away again.

Izzy pushed him aside, making him stumble slightly on his feet. "What the hell?" He cried out. She marched past the doorway, down the hall, and towards their old bedroom. "Goddamn it Izzy, don't go in there," he sounded angry now. Good. Because so was Izzy. And she was ready for a fight. She stomped through the rickety dorm and slammed open the bedroom door.

Izzy froze in the doorway.

There, lying naked on the bed, covered by nothing but a thin white sheet, was a girl.