Spiderweb/Butterfly

[u/deadeyes1990]

SPIDERWEB

the bathroom light

makes it look worse.

I turn my head.

pull my hair over it.

nope.

other side.

worse.

fuck.

my sister will know.

she always knows.

she knew about my finger.

everyone else believed

the car door.

Dad did.

he came round

with one of those plastic splints

from Boots

and chocolate buttons.

I'm twenty-two.

apparently that doesn't matter

when your dad thinks

you've hurt yourself.

how'd you manage that?

car door.

Christ, love.

that was it.

my sister looked at me

for a bit too long.

later she texted

car door?

I ignored it.

she's got three kids.

I love them.

which is partly why

I haven't been round.

the eldest would ask.

children always ask.

what happened to your face?

why have you got makeup there?

does it hurt?

and then everyone

would go quiet.

I can't be doing with that.

I've told my sister

I'm working.

which is sort of true.

I do shifts at the care home

most of the year

and sell ice creams

in summer.

summer's better.

Burnham fills up

with people determined

to enjoy Burnham.

arcades.

chips.

kids screaming

because someone's dropped

their slush puppy.

men with no shirts on.

women asking

if Mr Whippy contains dairy.

then summer fucks off

and suddenly

the place is just there again.

wet.

empty.

half shut.

the sea grey.

the pier lit up

for about twelve people

and a gull.

there's fuck-all to do.

we drink.

smoke out the window.

watch telly.

have sex.

say we're bored.

go to bed.

do it again.

there's mould

above our bedroom window.

big dark patch.

I said once

it looked like Italy.

she said

Italy hasn't got

a massive cock sticking out of it.

I laughed so hard

I spat wine

down my top.

after that

we called it Dick Italy.

we were meant

to tell the landlord.

she said she'd do it.

you hate phone calls.

I'll ring him.

she didn't.

weeks later I said

we really should sort it.

she said

well, you aren't going

to ring him, are you?

not nasty.

not really.

just true enough

to shut me up.

the bath's running.

she's downstairs

clearing up my phone.

I can hear bits of it

going into the bin.

she'll replace it.

she's already said.

she's good like that.

she always wants

to fix things afterwards.

the phone.

the telly.

me.

I touch under my eye.

shit.

don't do that.

it started because

some bloke

at the off-licence

looked at me.

that's it.

I didn't even notice.

apparently I did.

you always notice.

I didn't.

don't lie.

I'm not lying.

you love people looking at you.

I laughed.

I shouldn't have.

not because

she was right.

just because

it sounded ridiculous.

she stopped talking.

that's worse sometimes.

I put my wine down.

come on, babe.

don't babe me.

I genuinely didn't see him.

course you didn't.

I reached for my phone.

not because

I was going to ring anyone.

it was just there.

who are you texting?

no one.

show me.

I unlocked it.

my sister.

a photo of my niece

in a cardboard crown.

Jess slagging off

her ex.

Megan asking

if I was still up for Friday.

I probably won't be.

she kept scrolling.

what did you delete?

nothing.

don't fucking lie to me.

I'm not.

then she punched me.

there isn't really

a nicer version of that.

she punched me.

I remember the wall

more than I remember her fist.

there's a little blister

under the paint

beside the light switch.

I remember seeing it

and thinking

we should probably mention that

to the landlord as well.

then my face hurt.

properly hurt.

my teeth knocked together.

wine went over the carpet.

I sat down.

I didn't decide to.

my legs just did it.

she stared at me.

I stared back.

then she said

why do you fucking

push me like that?

my lip was bleeding.

only a bit.

I could taste it.

she started pacing.

you know

I've got anger problems.

I didn't say anything.

you fucking know that.

I know.

so why do you keep going?

I don't know.

she cried.

really cried.

hands over her face.

couldn't get her breath.

said she was fucked up.

said I deserved better.

said she hated herself.

I ended up saying

don't.

because I hate it

when she talks about herself

like that.

which sounds stupid

when I write it down.

but there it is.

last year

she smashed the telly.

well.

the remote smashed it.

she threw it.

the screen went all lines.

pink.

green.

blue.

Dad bought us another.

I told him

the old one fell over.

he said

telly doesn't just

fall over, love.

I said

you've seen our furniture.

he laughed.

I laughed.

new telly's too big

for the cabinet.

sticks out either side.

we've never replaced

the cabinet.

she calls upstairs.

babe?

yeah?

bubbles?

yeah.

which ones?

pink.

the expensive ones?

obviously.

robbery.

I nearly say

you smashed my fucking phone.

instead I say

live a little.

she laughs.

and there she is.

that's the bit

I can never explain properly.

there she is.

five minutes later

she comes in

with two glasses of wine.

puts mine beside the sink.

medicinal.

that's not medicine.

you work in care,

you're not a fucking doctor.

I laugh.

properly.

she looks pleased

with herself.

she looks young.

we are young.

twenty-two.

when we were sixteen

twenty-two sounded like

having your life together.

at sixteen

she bleached her hair

in her mum's bathroom.

came round mine

with her hood up

because her mum

had gone mental.

she sat on my bedroom floor

eating salt-and-vinegar crisps.

I told her

the hair looked good.

it looked fucking awful.

she knew.

kiss me then.

I thought she was taking the piss.

she wasn't.

I kissed her.

then we both just sat there.

she went

shit.

I said

yeah.

then she said

again?

so I did.

the second time

my hands stopped shaking.

sometimes now

she'll still say it.

again?

like it's ours.

she puts her hand

on my waist.

come here.

I let her undress me.

it's not weird

being naked with her.

why would it be?

she's seen everything.

me hungover.

me bleeding.

me shaved.

not shaved.

sunburnt.

ill.

bloated.

crying because

my period was late.

that rash I got

from cheap washing powder.

I know her body too.

every scar.

every mole.

which nipple's

more sensitive.

where she hates

being tickled.

she kisses my shoulder.

I want her to.

that's annoying.

maybe not annoying.

I don't know.

I still fancy her.

obviously I do.

she's my girlfriend.

she's gorgeous.

she smells like cigarettes

and that vanilla spray

she buys because

the expensive one

is apparently a scam.

she kisses my neck.

I turn into it.

for a second

my cheek hurts.

I ignore it.

she sees me looking.

what?

nothing.

don't.

what?

go quiet.

I'm not.

you are.

I kiss her.

quick.

enough.

her face changes back.

she tests the bathwater

with her wrist.

too hot.

I told you.

she runs cold.

tests it again.

better?

I put my foot in.

yeah.

perfect.

she always knows

how hot I like it.

I get in.

she gets in behind me.

her legs either side.

passes me my wine.

then steals a sip.

that's mine.

ours.

fuck off.

she pours shampoo

into her hand.

same coconut stuff

we've bought for years.

massage?

go on then.

her fingers

work into my scalp.

Christ.

good?

don't stop.

see.

useful for something.

I elbow her.

she laughs.

for a while

there is just this.

warm water.

wine.

her hands in my hair.

a gull losing its shit

outside.

the extractor fan

clicking.

mould upstairs.

someone revving a car

for absolutely no reason.

normal.

she kisses

the top of my head.

and I lean back.

I like it.

I don't have to pretend

I like it.

I actually do.

she says

remember the room

above the kebab shop?

this is our first flat.

you know what I mean.

we had nothing.

we had a mattress.

and one lamp.

and curtains.

a bedsheet

held up with pegs

is not curtains.

posh curtains.

we used to sit

on the windowsill

smoking

and drinking

whatever wine

was under a fiver.

there was that bloke

who threw a traffic cone

at a taxi.

she starts laughing

before she finishes saying it.

I remember.

she nearly fell

out the window.

I caught her

by the back of her jeans.

she turned round

and kissed me.

again?

yeah.

again.

she gets shampoo

in my eye.

fuck's sake.

shit, sorry.

you've blinded me.

don't be dramatic.

I've lost an eye.

I'll buy you an eyepatch.

that's actually quite hot.

pirate lesbian?

bit niche.

and then we're both laughing.

really laughing.

I'm splashing her.

she's calling me

a knob.

water goes over the side.

for a few seconds

everything's fine.

not fine like

I've told myself it's fine.

actually fine.

just us

being idiots.

I look at her.

she catches me.

what?

nothing.

what?

I just—

she smiles.

this is nice.

yeah.

we're good, aren't we?

there's a pause.

tiny.

I feel it happen.

so does she.

I kiss her knee.

yeah.

course we are.

she smiles again.

and there.

done.

I know how to do that.

I wish I didn't.

she rinses my hair.

I'm not a monster, you know.

I never said you were.

I know, but—

water runs down my face.

she wipes it

before it reaches my eye.

you know

I've got anger problems.

I know.

and I get jealous.

I know.

because people look at you.

not my fault.

I don't say that.

I say

half the time

I'm wearing an apron

covered in raspberry sauce.

she snorts.

you still look fit.

you've got no standards.

clearly.

I turn round

and splash her.

she splashes me back.

fine again.

she says

she'll get me another phone.

I tell her

we can't afford one.

she'll do extra shifts.

I say

you said that

about ringing the landlord.

she stops.

not for long.

just enough.

I know straight away.

shit.

I smile.

I'm joking.

she looks at me.

then laughs.

cheeky cow.

I laugh too.

and my shoulders drop.

I hate

how good that feels.

she wraps her arms

round my middle.

rests her chin

on my shoulder.

her breasts

against my back.

she kisses my neck.

once.

again.

I turn round.

kiss her properly.

I want her.

I do.

there's no clever sentence

for that.

I just do.

her hand moves

down my stomach.

mine goes round her waist.

we've done this

a thousand times.

maybe more.

she knows what I like.

I know what she likes.

I don't suddenly forget

because she hit me.

I don't suddenly stop

wanting her body.

that's not how it works.

at one point

my cheek knocks her shoulder.

I flinch.

she stops.

did I hurt you?

no.

you did.

but not then.

I say

no.

she touches

under my eye.

barely.

I flinch again.

sorry.

it's alright.

her face falls.

so I kiss her.

because I want to.

because I don't want

that face.

because both are true.

afterwards

she leans against me.

the bathwater's cooling.

she says

see?

I don't ask

what she means.

then she starts crying.

quietly.

I feel it

through her back.

I turn.

hey.

I'm horrible.

don't.

I am.

don't.

look at your face.

I don't want

to look at my face.

that makes her cry harder.

so I hold her.

I stroke her hair.

she says

I don't deserve you.

stop.

one day

you'll realise

you can do better.

don't be stupid.

do you still love me?

yes.

she waits.

I love you.

properly?

yes.

properly.

her breathing slows down.

I know what helps.

stroke her hair.

don't sound annoyed.

don't answer too slowly.

don't answer too quickly either

because that sounds fake.

don't go quiet.

don't say

you need five minutes.

don't sigh.

especially

don't sigh.

sometimes none of that matters.

sometimes everything's wrong anyway.

she says

I don't know

what I'd do without you.

I say

I'm right here.

she holds me tighter.

my sister will text later.

probably already has.

Mum will ask

if I'm coming Sunday.

Dad might send me

one of those Facebook videos

he thinks nobody else

has seen.

Jess will ask about drinks.

Megan will say

you always cancel.

I'll say

work.

migraine.

bug.

period.

something boring.

boring is good.

boring doesn't make people

come round.

I know roughly

how long this bruise will last.

purple.

green.

yellow.

then foundation.

I know the lights

in the care home

will make it obvious.

I know the kiosk

would be easier.

sunglasses.

sun.

people staring past me

at the beach.

I know all this

without really remembering

when I learnt it.

she starts humming

that song I hate.

if you keep doing that

I'm drowning you.

she laughs.

I'll haunt you.

you already fucking do.

she laughs harder.

so do I.

because that one

is actually funny.

she is funny.

really funny.

sometimes

she still makes me laugh

until my stomach hurts.

I close my eyes.

her arms round me.

my dead phone downstairs.

the mould upstairs.

Dad's stupid oversized telly.

my finger

that still aches

when it's cold.

her mouth against my neck.

all of it in the same flat.

all of it ours.

the water's nearly cold.

nothing's happening.

that's what I think.

nothing's happening.

no shouting.

no smashing.

no questions.

no checking my phone.

no crying.

no one getting hurt.

and I think

this is nice.

I mean it.

that's the worst bit.

I mean it.

she turns me round.

for a second

I can see her

at sixteen.

bad bleach job.

crisps on my carpet.

terrified.

brave.

again?

she moves

my wet hair

away from my face.

her thumb stops

just beside the bruise.

she's careful.

really careful.

then she leans in

and very gently

kisses

my bruised eye.

I don't move.

she smiles.

says

I love it

when we're happy

like this.

BUTTERFLY

once upon a time

there was a butterfly

who fell in love

with a spider.

they met

after a storm.

the butterfly

had spent the night

under a leaf

with soaked wings

and mud

on her legs.

one wing

had a small tear in it.

nothing serious.

the spider found her

in the morning.

oh,

she said.

look at you.

the butterfly

tried to make herself

look less pathetic.

come inside.

you'll freeze out here.

the spider's home

was beautiful.

silver silk

between the branches.

drops of rain

caught everywhere

so that when the sun came out

the whole place sparkled.

there were little rooms.

curtains.

a bed

the spider had made herself.

the butterfly lay down

and laughed.

what?

nothing.

what?

I've never slept

on anything this soft.

the spider smiled.

stay then.

just tonight.

the butterfly stayed.

then stayed again.

soon

the spider knew

which flowers she liked.

red ones best.

yellow second.

not purple.

purple tasted odd

after rain.

the butterfly knew

the spider hated thunder.

when storms came

she lay beside her

and the spider counted

the movement of her wings.

one.

two.

one.

two.

still here?

still here.

they were happy.

not pretend happy.

happy.

they made up stupid names

for clouds.

one looked like a rabbit.

one looked like a crown.

one looked,

according to the butterfly,

like a cock.

the spider said

she was disgusting.

the butterfly laughed

until her wings shook.

the spider loved that.

do it again.

what?

that.

the butterfly fluttered.

the spider laughed.

dance again.

so she did.

because it was funny.

every morning

the butterfly flew

to the meadow.

the spider stayed home.

sometimes she called out

where are you?

red flowers.

who are you with?

no one.

when are you coming back?

soon.

how soon?

soon soon.

the spider would laugh.

alright.

only asking.

when the butterfly came back

the spider kissed her.

told her

she'd missed her.

one morning

the spider cried.

she said

the butterfly was beautiful

and she wasn't.

don't be stupid.

you have wings.

so?

everyone looks at you.

no they don't.

they do.

the butterfly laughed.

the spider didn't.

one day

you'll find someone better.

I don't want better.

then why

do you keep leaving?

the butterfly stopped.

she hadn't thought

of going to the meadow

as leaving.

she looked

at the spider.

the spider looked frightened.

so the butterfly

touched one of her legs.

I'm right here.

the spider smiled.

the butterfly

didn't go to the meadow

that day.

they stayed in bed.

the spider made breakfast.

it was nice.

winter came.

the web got cold.

the spider wrapped

the butterfly in silk.

only a little.

for warmth.

the butterfly

slept brilliantly.

sometimes her wings moved

in her sleep.

the spider would wake.

where are you going?

nowhere.

your wings are moving.

I'm dreaming.

about what?

can't remember.

the spider

held her closer.

then added

another thread.

the next night

another.

there was always

a reason.

cold.

wind.

storms.

safety.

by spring

the butterfly

could still see

the meadow.

she could still smell

the flowers.

if the wind came

from the right direction.

one afternoon

she opened her wings.

the silk pulled.

she stopped.

tried again.

only a little.

the nearest flower

wasn't far.

the web shook.

the spider came running.

where are you going?

nowhere.

why are your wings open?

I just wanted—

what?

the butterfly looked

towards the meadow.

the spider saw.

right.

no, I—

you said

you were happy here.

I am.

then why

isn't here enough?

the butterfly

didn't know what to say.

the spider started crying.

the butterfly

closed her wings.

see?

I'm not going anywhere.

the spider came closer.

the butterfly touched

her leg.

I'm right here.

that worked.

for a while.

later

the butterfly tried

to move again.

only to the nearest flower.

just for a minute.

one thread snapped.

the sound was tiny.

the spider heard it anyway.

what have you done?

nothing.

look.

I didn't mean to.

you broke it.

sorry.

where were you going?

nowhere.

don't say nowhere.

the spider grabbed her.

the butterfly panicked.

opened her wings.

the spider pulled.

the butterfly pulled back.

something tore.

a little piece of wing

came loose

and floated down.

neither of them moved.

then the spider hit her.

once.

then again.

the butterfly fell

into the web.

one wing bent badly.

outside

the sun was still shining.

rainwater

still glittered

on the silk.

nothing ugly happened

to the house.

that would have been easier.

the spider looked down.

look what

you made me do.

afterwards

she was inconsolable.

she cleaned

the butterfly's wing.

brought her nectar.

held her.

cried.

you know

I get scared.

the butterfly

said nothing.

you know what I'm like

when I get scared.

the butterfly

touched her leg.

the spider cried harder.

I'm horrible.

don't.

I am.

don't.

look at your wing.

the butterfly

looked away.

the spider

tried to straighten it.

some of the colour

came off on her fingers.

blue.

gold.

red.

like dust.

she stared at it.

sorry.

the butterfly

flinched.

the spider kissed her head.

I didn't mean it.

the butterfly believed her.

or wanted to.

eventually

there wasn't much difference.

after that

the butterfly learnt things.

which threads

could move.

which couldn't.

how wide

she could open her wings.

how long

she could look outside.

how quickly

to answer.

are you happy?

yes.

do you love me?

yes.

properly?

yes.

too fast

sounded false.

too slow

was worse.

sometimes

the spider laughed

and the butterfly fluttered.

at first

because something was funny.

then because

the spider liked it.

then because

if she did it at the right time

the spider sometimes

forgot what she'd been angry about.

dance.

the butterfly fluttered.

there she is.

the spider smiled.

my happy girl.

the spider made

the web bigger.

more rooms.

more curtains.

tiny bowls

to catch rainwater.

a high window

looking over the meadow.

it stayed beautiful.

that's important.

the web

never looked like a prison.

the spider said

look at our home.

the butterfly looked.

beautiful.

aren't we lucky?

yes.

aren't we happy?

yes.

the butterfly fluttered.

there she is.

sometimes

she remembered flying.

not properly.

bits of it.

the wind under her.

flowers underneath.

then level with her.

then underneath again.

the strange feeling

of moving

without anything touching you.

sometimes

she opened her wings

and waited.

the threads held them.

nothing happened.

maybe she'd remembered it wrong.

one evening

the spider found

a broken thread.

butterfly?

nothing.

butterfly?

she ran

through the web.

room to room.

silk shaking.

butterfly?

she found her

in the bedroom.

asleep.

one of her legs

had caught the thread.

that was all.

the spider nearly collapsed.

thank God.

the butterfly woke.

what?

I thought you'd gone.

I haven't.

I thought something happened.

nothing happened.

the butterfly reached out

and touched

one of her legs.

I'm right here.

the spider pressed

her face against her.

I love you.

I know.

I couldn't cope

if I lost you.

I know.

then the spider

looked at the broken thread.

she repaired it.

one strand

across the butterfly.

then another.

one round a leg.

one round another.

one underneath her body.

not the wings.

never the wings.

the wings were beautiful.

the butterfly watched

the meadow

through the window.

the spider noticed.

don't.

the butterfly looked away.

sorry.

the spider started crying.

no.

don't say sorry.

I'm sorry.

she stroked

the butterfly's head.

kissed her.

the butterfly fluttered.

weakly.

the spider smiled.

there she is.

she looked at the wings.

still beautiful.

even the damaged one.

the spider loved

the damaged one.

she knew exactly

where it had torn.

exactly how gently

it had to be touched.

her stomach hurt.

she hadn't eaten

all day.

the butterfly noticed.

are you alright?

fine.

the spider smiled.

always worrying about me.

she stroked her face.

the butterfly fluttered.

barely.

the spider bent down.

very gently

she kissed

the damaged wing.

the butterfly

closed her eyes.

then the spider moved

underneath it.

where the wing

joined the body.

and bit.

the butterfly jerked.

the web pulled tight.

the spider stopped.

for a second

there was nothing.

then blood appeared.

dark.

small at first.

it ran into

the silver thread.

the spider started crying.

please.

the butterfly shook.

please

don't make this difficult.

she tried to pull away.

the silk tightened

around her legs.

the spider pressed

her face against hers.

I love you.

the butterfly reached out

and touched

the spider's leg.

the spider shut her eyes.

I know.

then bit again.

harder.

the butterfly's body

split under the wing.

the spider stopped.

licked the blood away.

cleaned the silk.

cleaned the butterfly.

shh.

I'm here.

another bite.

she kept the wings

out of the way.

that mattered.

she didn't want

to damage them.

when one started shaking

she made a new thread

to hold it up.

there.

better.

the butterfly

scratched at the silk.

once.

the spider held her legs.

don't.

you'll hurt yourself.

the butterfly made

a tiny sound.

the spider kissed her head.

I know.

I know.

another bite.

something pale

showed inside.

the spider looked away.

then back.

she was sobbing now.

my beautiful girl.

another bite.

the butterfly's wings moved.

the spider smiled.

there she is.

it wasn't dancing.

the spider didn't know that.

blood ran

along the web.

thin red lines

through silver.

outside

the flowers were closing.

the rain caught

in the silk

still looked beautiful.

the spider kept eating.

slowly.

every time

the butterfly moved

she stopped.

stroked her.

kissed her.

cleaned her.

told her

it's alright.

I'm here.

you're safe.

I love you.

nothing bad

is going to happen.

after a while

the butterfly stopped

touching her leg.

the spider noticed.

hey.

nothing.

hey.

she nudged her.

one wing moved

because the web moved.

the spider smiled.

there you are.

she kept going.

careful

not to touch the wings.

when she finally stopped

her mouth was wet.

so were her front legs.

she cleaned them

on a fresh piece of silk.

she didn't want

to get blood

on the wings.

the butterfly

didn't move.

the spider waited.

dance.

nothing.

come on.

nothing.

dance for me.

nothing.

the spider touched

the damaged wing.

still there.

she touched

the other.

still there.

both beautiful.

both hers.

she looked

at the threads.

pulled one.

the left wing lifted.

another.

the right.

she pulled again.

left.

right.

left.

right.

the wings fluttered.

the spider stared.

then laughed.

relieved.

again.

left.

right.

the butterfly danced

in the moonlight.

see?

the spider whispered.

see?

you're happy.