Chapter 3

“So,” Timothy started. “How did it go?”

“Hm?”

“Did Miss Rose approve of your vacation leave?”

“Oh.” Yves shook his head and reclined on the bus seat to get comfortable. “It’s fifty-fifty. We’re understaffed. But she said she might be able to do something if it’s next month. I can’t expect much, though.”

“Let’s hope she finds a way.” Timothy paused, a silly grin splitting his face. “Why don’t you seduce her? I think you’ll have better chances— ow! What?”

Yves bumped his fist against the side of Timothy’s head again. “Idiot. She’s already engaged.”

“She is?”

Ah. He spoke too soon.

Yves covered his mouth, his eyes darting to the side to find Timothy’s expectant grin as if he owed him the explanation of every event happening in the world. He returned his gaze to the front of the bus. “Forget I said anything.”

“Oh, come on! You already said it. You can’t take it back. Who is it? Who’s the lucky guy?”

“It’s just a slip of the tongue. And I don’t know. I just saw her wearing an engagement ring, but I didn’t ask.”

“Eh? Bummer.”

“You’re too interested in gossip for a guy.”

“But we’re talking about Miss Rose here!”

“Lower your voice down. We’re in…” Yves covered his mouth as he yawned. “…public.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, I guess.” Timothy poked at the underside of his eyes. “What’s important is you get to have some actual rest and attend that wedding you wanted to see.”

Yves nodded, turning to his friend as a thought crossed his mind. “Tim, can I ask a question?”

“What?”

“Do you think we’ll get to settle down someday?”

Timothy flinched from his question. “Why are you asking me that now?”

“It’s just…” Yves lowered his gaze to his lap. “Most people our age, they’re already getting married. While we’re here, stuck in a cycle of saving lives and managing the deaths of other people. Not that it’s a bad thing, but I’m just wondering if we’ll even get the chance to do the things we want before we die?”

“Stop talking like you have stage four cancer, you idiot. I assure you, you’re not dying. You just need rest.”

“But if I die, you’ll arrange my funeral, right?”

Timothy’s hand grabbed his face like a claw machine, forcing him to look at his golden brown eyes. “I’d rather attend your wedding than your funeral.”

“I thought you don’t like weddings?”

“Well, yeah. But I can make an exception.”

“You’ll be my best man, then?”

“Why are you planning a wedding when you’re not even in a relationship? Are you stupid?”

Yves giggled. “But someday, if I get to marry someone, you’ll be my best man, okay? You are kind of annoying, but I guess you’ll do.”

The silent stare Timothy gave carried a heavy feeling. With his face still trapped in his grasp, Yves could see the flicker of hesitation reflecting on the golden speckles of his eyes. But Timothy looked away before he could question him, breaking their eye-contact, releasing his hold on his face.

“Sorry. I guess it’s stupid to plan things that far.”

“What are you talking about?” Timothy sighed, resting his arm over his shoulder and pulling him close. “A best man, you say? I’m not really the best, but I’ll be there if you want me there. Weddings, birthdays, even on your deathbed. I’ll be there because that’s what best friends do.” He paused. “I’ll be the best man you’ll ever have.”

“Hm. Thanks.” Yves leaned his head against Timothy’s shoulder and fought the hardest not to fall asleep. But it was a losing battle. “I’m kind of scared of death, so I’d appreciate that.”

Having Timothy around can prevent him from falling asleep during the commute home, but it can also get exhausting to hold a conversation with him. His heavy eyelids kept dropping, and the smooth sailing of the bus along the road lulled him like a baby in a hammock.

“Death is not something to be scared of, Yves. It’s scarier to lead a life full of regrets. Remember that, okay?” Timothy sifted his fingers through Yves’ light brown locks, massaging his scalp. “Why don’t you take a nap for a while? You must be exhausted from today’s duty. I’ll just wake you up once we’re already near your place.”

“Hm’kay,” Yves mumbled, his consciousness already slipping away.

When Yves woke up, he was no longer on the bus but up on his friend’s back like a child being carried after a tiring day at school. He had his arms wrapped loosely around Timothy’s neck, which he pulled away slightly, alerting the other.

“Oh, you’re awake, Yveybs.”

His eyebrows twitched at the weird nickname. Yves pulled his legs from Timothy’s grasp and climbed off of his back, blushing at the stare he received from other passersby. “Why are you carrying me? We’re not kids anymore, you know.”

Timothy crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at him. “How about a ‘thank you,’ you ungrateful bastard? I carried you all the way from the bus stop, which was already three blocks away from here.”

“Right.” Yves suppressed a yawn and waved him off. “Thanks.”

“Wow. I can feel the sincerity of your gratitude.”

Yves rolled his eyes at how dramatic Timothy could get, so he stepped in front of his friend and sandwiched his face with both hands. “Okay, Saint Timothy Mathias, holy embalmer of the dead, thank you for always looking out for me.”

“Was it necessary for you to call me a holy embalmer in the middle of the street, Yveybs?”

“That’s not the proper way to pronounce my name!”

“Sure way, Saint Yveybs Mallari of the holy butterflies.”

“It’s Iyv! And what the fuck are the holy butterflies? They’re not holy. They are…” Yves looked around, suddenly feeling self-conscious of their surroundings. A part of him regretted telling Timothy about it, but that was how they came to know each other and grew up as friends. He let go of Timothy’s face. “They’re just a figment of my imagination, a product of a curse that was passed down to me, so don’t call it holy.”

“Do you really believe that?” Timothy grabbed his hands. “What if it’s your superpower?”

“Are we still in grade school?”

“But what if it is?”

“Tim, it’s called a mental disorder in modern terminology, not a superpower.”

“I still believe it’s your superpower.” Timothy wrapped an arm around his shoulder and raised the other over their head as if he was trying to paint a beautiful image of the night sky. “Imagine the things you can do. You can change the world.”

“It does nothing, really. I just see them fly around people and change color once they die.”

“Then have you ever wondered why they looked like butterflies?”

Yves frowned, his eyebrows merging as he gave it a thought. “Not really. No.”

Timothy sent him a side-way glance and grinned. “It’s because you’re a butterfly fairy.”

His hand shot up to grab Timothy’s man-bun, but it slipped under his fingers as Timothy sprinted off, leaving the elastic band with a golden butterfly accessory. Yves ran after him with a holler. “Come back here, you stupid embalmer boy!”

“What was that, fairy boy?”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Sprout your wings and fly if you want to get me!”

“You wish!” Yves slowed down because there was no way he could ever catch up with Timothy. And he was already in front of his apartment, so he just let him be. His shoulders slouched as he stared at his friend from afar, followed by the tiny dots of light.

Superpower, huh?

If it would allow him to extend the lifespan of others, then he didn’t mind calling it a superpower. But until then, it will stay a reminder that he possessed these eyes just so he could suffer watching people die.