In the distance, beyond the ageing apple trees and lingering with the fresh scent of fallen pine cones, were two butterflies. One painted a rose red, the other, a ghostly white. Both glided effortlessly through the gentle breeze, almost as if they were allowing the wind to whisk them away to whichever destination it pleased. They somehow changed their minds during the end, as neither butterflies have yet to fade from the area I had first discovered them.

A blanket of loose flower petals with colours of pastel blues and yellows lay below the dancing pair, not too far from the bunch at my own feet — a mixture of red, white and pink. Autumn truly was a beautiful season. Possibly, one of my favourites.

"I hope tomorrow will be different from today. It would be a shame if you wasted the day as you are now."

The voice of the teen echoed in my mind for some reason, leaving me in a state of disarray. Nevertheless, I kept my gaze.

My silence seemed to irk him somehow, as he had attempted to continue the conversation. "Whatever you're drooling over, I suggest stopping now. If you had bothered to look at the time, you'd know you're late for class."

"Is there anything troubling you?" My gaze was fixed onto the floating specimens, from this angle their movement started to resemble that of poorly structured paper planes. The red one, especially. It was almost as if it were struggling to escape the area the wind had trapped it in.

My speaking certainly did fill him with a wave of accomplishment, although it was short lived before he realised I had asked him a question. "I'm sorry?"

"Do you...ever feel as though you're running from something?" The white butterfly, I had noticed, was purely trying to stay stable as its red counterpart continued to hassle.

"Do you want to run away from class? You're trying to bunk, aren't you? This isn't like you, yet why am I not surprised?"

I ignored his accusation and proceeded with a whispered, "there are two kinds of people. Those who run and those who are too afraid to. Which one are you?"

"The third option," he said bluntly. Then, after a heavy sigh, "the one who runs in place."

I pondered his statement. I didn't know how to respond in my usual witty manner, exactly, so I asked a question. "Have you ever caught butterflies when you were little?"

"Haven't even attempted. Why?"

I smiled. "Follow me."

"Don't you think they look like paper hearts?"

We both laid on a stack of orange and red leaves, accompanied by the slight glance of those pastel petals. The butterflies had also decided to rest, having used up all their energy escaping our frantic hands. "Paper hearts? I guess."

"Fragile, colourful, floating about with no destination whatsoever... I love the thought. Don't you?"

"The thought of having no place to go?"

He chuckled. "The thought of not needing to have a place to go. Wouldn't that be wonderful? Just living life, spending time doing whatever with whomever we please. Having no worries. No stress about whether or not you'll graduate."

"I don't know what I'm going to do after graduation. It stresses me out to no end." My watch beeped. I glanced at it and frowned. "It's late. Do you want to run away from class? You're trying to bunk, aren't you?"

He only smiled. "I see. Anyway, it looks like you have company."

The red butterfly made itself comfortable on top of my head. I remained still — I refused to move and disturb my new best friend. Little Red, on the other hand, had something else in mind. The wind had started again and both butterflies were up and fluttering the second I shivered. I followed suit — the butterflies were whirring now. I didn't even notice how strong the wind had become. The leaves and petals we were laying on earlier had now circled around us with immense force. I couldn't see anything; neither he nor the butterflies. I was pushed to and fro and various other directions I couldn't seem to identify. My arms flailed, my legs stumbling with the impact of the leaves slashing my skin. I tried desperately to escape, find a way out of this whirlwind, for who-knows how long.

I wanted to leave. I wanted to run away and never look back — never return in case I cross this event again. I didn't want to deal with the stress anymore — with the expectations of being able to get through everything on my own. I couldn't break free from this, there were no openings. I'd end up suffocating if this continues. Already, my rapid breathing was making nothing better. I didn't know what I had tripped on, but I thank it for allowing me to catch my breath.

"Are you alright? You didn't hurt your head, did you?" The next thing I knew, he was by my side. Shifting my person into a more comfortable position.

"I—What—Didn't you see the whirlwind? What happened to it? Where are the leaves?" I didn't move. I didn't want to. My head hurt too much for even the slightest of movements.

"What are you talking about?" He gave me a skeptical look. "Well, never mind. Just lay here for a bit. You passed out after that butterfly rested on your head."

"The butterfly?"

He nodded. "The white one seems to have taken a liking to me. See?" He raised his arm and I was soon face-to-face with the white butterfly. It flapped its wings slightly, almost as a greeting. "Anyway, you still shouldn't rush into things. You're way too young to be that stressed. It's better to focus on graduating for now. All the other things will come after. If you have too much on your plate you won't be able to get through it all."

The butterflies flew away.

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Just a little reminder that I'm alive, loves. Expect an update soon on one of the chaptered stories.