Fleeting

A fairy of red and black ember darts across seas of green grass and daisies, erupting from sun-baked soils as though to greet him. His flight is erratic, passionate. A flittering candle of a creature, lit over a drowsy, verdant background.

Symphony was his name. People in the park point and smile at him as he whizzes past; one moment, two moments, then gone with the wind, an angels kiss. Children try and give chase, laughing as they try and catch him between sticky hands, grubby faces covered in dirt from playtime.

Cherry trees blossom overhead, an overcoat of baby pink over the verdure. It's a beautiful spring day today, the warmth of the springtime sunbeams dapple crimson wings that flicker faster than blinks. Tiny black eyes like olives study the scenery overhead, searching.

There are others here, too. Red admirals gather here to give life to the next generations. Some emerged here from cocoons; some overwintered here, awoken from their slumbers at the ringing bell of blooming flowers. Others still had flown many miles to find the park.

Symphony, though, would not sire young of his own. There were many caterpillars already, insatiable and youthful as they chewed through blossom after blossom, their bellies filled with pink and nectar. Not a single one was his.

He spots it, then; a specific cherry tree, aged and fading. The blossoms weren't quite as vibrant as the others, the bark coated in dusty grey lichens, holes from woodpeckers where squirrels would nest. Scarred and gnarled; his home.

Landing on a branch, Symphony calls.

"Song? Song, are you here?"

There's no response- no verbal response, at the very least. Symphony wasn't expecting one. Instead, a tiny rustle of flowers, deeper within the thicket of leaves and blooms. He all but ran towards it.

Emerging from behind faded flowerets, was Song, the dusk within spring. He was different from Symphony. A flame born to burn bright and then fade, a contrast to himself, who would live to see seasons turn and change. He couldn't have called for his lover, even if he wanted to. His kind, the cecropia, had no mouth.

Yet, that did nothing to stop the sigh of relief to see Song still alive, as adoration filled Symphony's inky, black eyes, soulless to an outsider. He approached quickly, thin feelers wrapping around fluffy tufts above Song's head as they held antennae. There's a mournful rustle of wings from the moth.

"I know, my love. I'm sorry," Symphony begins, somewhat bashful, still dripping with genuine guilt. "I... I had to eat. I didn't mean to be gone quite so long."

The moth bristles for a moment- 'eat'- but stills quickly. Before Symphony can continue, he feels Song's grip on him tighten, gentle yet firm. The bristly antenna rubbing up and down. Soothing his whirring mind, slowing his apologies down to a halt.

'It's ok. I forgive you,' Song wanted to say.

Symphony's proboscis unfurls a little, a butterfly smile, as he nuzzles his head into his sessile lovers. His fur was oh so soft, even still, like dust-coated cashmere. An old sweater left in a closet, muted, fading, dependable even still. Song nuzzles back weakly, leaving the admirals head covered in dust.

They didn't have much longer together. Song had emerged just two weeks prior, fresh, bright eyed and doomed. All too aware of his fleeting life. He had swifly abandoned his kin, the pheremones of females, telltale signs of the only purpose nature had given him. And yet, he would ignore them, ignore all of it, ignore the biology within that screamed at him to go back.

"You seem weaker today," Symphony breaking the silence. "Is... is there anything I can do for you at all?"

The moth thinks for a moment. Symphony is then pulled closer, wordlessly.

'Just stay with me,' Song thinks. Thinks as loudly as he possibly can.

Symphonies free antenna droops slightly, proboscis curling up into his face as he mournfully nuzzles further into his lover.

"You're fading... aren't you? That's why you asked me to stay."

Song nods up and down, mechanically, stiffly. Not wanting to think about his inevitable passing. It was cruel, he thought. Not of life, nor of nature. Cruel of himself, to have made such a beautiful thing fall for him, only to have to watch him die. For a creature built to endure like blazing wildfire, to have fallen for something designed to fade into shadow.

Symphony somehow nuzzles closer still, Song's soft fur enveloping him. He felt cold, even colder than he should have felt, sat in the shade like this.

Symphony ponders, just for a moment, and then talks. He was the one to talk for the both of them, filling the empty silence of the air.

"Do you remember when we were little, on this same branch? When we dangled together, dreaming of wings?"

The moths grip on the butterfly tightens. 'I remember.'

Symphony's proboscis unfurls just slightly, eyes wistful. "Then you remember the promise we made to each other, don't you? When you could still talk."

A breeze rustles the branch. Song flinches from the sudden bitter chill, trying to cuddle further into Symphony.

"We said... we said, we'd meet again. When we have wings. When we've changed. And we said, when we have our wings, we'll fly together, back to this branch."

One of Songs legs, bulky yet weak, reaches out, grasping onto Symphonies delicate foot. He's too weak to nuzzle in further, the cold breeze sapping what little energy he had left. This was all he could do.

"We did it, didn't we? We kept our promise."

The light in Songs eyes starts to fade, black eyes turning a subtle shade of grey, as he slowly nods his head, gently drapes his powdery wing over Symphony.

"Maybe... maybe, over the summer, and then when the leaves start to fall, we can stay here still." His voice cracks slightly. "Doesn't that sound nice? Together forever."

Song doesn't reply.

"And maybe, when it's next spring, we can come back here again, too. We can sit with the cherry blossoms. We can watch all the petals fall."

As though on cue, a faded pink flower drifts away, floating next to them in the spring breeze.

"Even if you're not strong enough, I'll carry you. I'll always be here for you, mothie. I promised."

The light of spring begins to die down, as the sun begins to set. Not quite dusk, but certainly, the world was a little darker than before.

"Or... if you stay here, I'll come back next spring anyway. I'll tell you everything I've seen. I'll carry our memories wherever we g-go."

Song doesn't reply. Symphony cuddles in a little more, the dust from the moths wings powdering his own.

"I'll stay here. I'll make more memories for us. I'll carry you with me forever, even if you aren't here anymore. I'll tell everyone I meet all about you. You'll always be alive, then."

Symphony notices it, then. The stillness of his partner, beside him.

"S...Song?"

He wriggles free from his lovers wing, studying his face. Cold, still. Eyes, grey.

It's silent. The butterfly had ran out of things to say. The sun continues to set, even darker now, as dusk begins to wrap its own wings around the pair. The people below had since left, going home with their families, with lovers of their own.

The breeze picks up, more pink petals falling and drifting away into the sky. The sudden chill brushes over Symphony's wings like a comb, though he didn't feel it. He extends a wing, draping it over his lover like a safety blanket, their dust mixing together as nightfall continues to settle. A squirrel scurries by at the base of the tree, unaware of them both.