Chapter Text
When the sun heaved high, reaching down to Butter Pretzel’s shoulders, it cradled and embraced her back like the blanket draped over her shoulders.
The morning light has brought its hands filled with light to wake her up gently, bringing her a new sense of clarity. The day felt different. The sun is warming up to her after what it felt months of its soft rays has left her. Her mind feels almost clear, or maybe it’s because she hasn’t fully awakened yet. However, it’s a nice change of pace. It was nice to not wake up with a panging headache.
Maybe Cheesecake was right about needing more sunlight. For a long time, her life was vapid, despite the busy atmosphere, she surrounded herself with constant work to keep her occupied from the disappointment life brings.
She rolled onto her back. Her body slightly aching as she moved into a more comfortable position. Slowly, she pushed the blanket off her, letting it pile onto itself on the floor. Sleeping on the couch has never felt so comfortable.
Her eyes trailed around the messy studio, soon she found the empty bowl on the coffee table. Her eyes blinked for a moment wondering where it came from, but when the realization hit, she sat up quickly.
The night before flew by like a blur, only very small fragments were hazily visible, the but shadowed-silhouette had burned into her mind. There was no doubt she knew who it was.
After a small moment of thought, her eyes were still locked onto the bowl, searching for something. There was something she possibly longed for, or something she did long for, but she wasn’t sure what it could be. Eventually, she gave out a resigned sigh.
She let her eyes lazily trail around the room, perhaps an excuse to opt out from her very strict schedule and take a moment to sit out. Her eyes hopping from the typhoon of dried paint on the floor, to the piles of unfinished paintings, and finally resting on the covered canvas that stood on the easel.
Fabric draped down over the canvas, hiding away the painting Butter Pretzel has worked so hard on. Her eyebrows furrowed, irritation was burning on low heat. Something about her painting under the fabric seemed different. The way fabric has formed around the shape of the painting seems off. A feeling of dread was starting to turn in her.
Her body rose from the couch, her legs taking slow strides to approach the painting.
She never covered her paintings, no matter how much she hated them, and Roguefort knew that. There have been many numerous times where Butter Pretzel had endlessly rant about how peculiar she is with the way she does things, and one being how to never cover her paintings. It was strange to see it covered, but she knew this is another trick that Roguefort has planned.
Her fingers curled onto the fabric, hesitating to pull it back and reveal the grand scheme that Roguefort may be about to pull. Something in her mind tells her, the moment she pulls the fabric away is the moment she is now participating in a game that she didn’t know the rules of. Or has she gone mad? Why does she still think of Roguefort as someone not to be trusted?
She shoved all her thoughts back into her mind, finally, her arm pulling down the fabric. Her eyes widened and her mouth parted into a gasp. She would be screaming Roguefort’s name, but knowing she shouldn’t doubt her gut made her feel otherwise. There was no painting, but the same calling card that used to taunt her every morning has been found on the easel.
Her fingers quickly grabbed the letter, yet, despite working quickly to pry the card open, she held the envelope with gentle care.
The moment she opened the card, a faint smell of roses tickled the front of her nose. Her eyes read across the inked message: “Come find me.”
The message sent her body into action. She leaped over the pile of canvases and used paints. Her knees buckled as she almost crashed her body onto the drawer. Her hands moved quickly to open the drawer and store away the card. The same drawer where she stored all of Roguefort’s calling cards.
There was no time to waste, she was already running to the door with her hat on one hand, and the other ready balled into a fist aimed to uppercut directly at Roguefort’s jaw for ruining her schedule, and for making her step outside.
It was way too early to be running. It was way too early to be this sweaty.
She had one hand on top of her head to keep her hat from flying off, her other was swinging by her side. Her feet kicking the ground as she squeezes herself through an upcoming crowd. She had no idea where she was running to, but her legs seemed to be navigating on their own.
Her body was coursing with adrenaline. Her eyes peeled, searching through the crowd for a familiar silhouette. All kinds of people have passed by her, but her eyes could not recognize any of their features. It was no use, why would a thief be out in the open, waiting for her?
The constant drumming coming from her heart was catching up to her. Choking on the empty air she swallowed. She pushed herself to keep going. The amount of people she ran past starts to dissipate. The ground below her changed from concrete to grass.
After what felt like forever, Butter Pretzel’s body has dragged herself to an open flower field. She let out a groaning exhale before collapsing onto a soft plane of grass. Her palms dig onto the soil as her weight crashes onto her knees. She’s staring down, feeling the wave of exhaustion crash through her body as her mouth gasped for air like a fish stranded on a beach. She couldn’t bear to have anyone see her like this.
Her breathing eventually steadied, but during the passing time, she became hyper aware of everything around her. The bullets of sweat running down her neck and how it made her hair cling onto her forehead the same way her clothes clinged on the back of her body. She can feel her palms picking up splotches of dirt the more she presses it down the dirt. Her knees are too digging into the grass and soil. Her mind was feeling fuzzy again, perhaps she didn’t breathe enough to replenish the oxygen she had lost from the long run.
Butter Pretzel picked herself up again. Rubbing her messy hands onto her jeans to smear away any feelings of dirt. Her legs moved on again to continue on the journey to find Roguefort.
While walking up the hill, she contemplated adding exercising into her routine. Despite how long it’s been since she participated in some form of physical activity, the feeling of blood running through her veins felt invigorating. She needed to feel alive again. Maybe this is why Roguefort liked having a good chase. The thrill and action that gets your blood boiling is almost addicting. Having the recognition and fame and eyes that give you the attention you deserve was something both could understand. The lifestyle sounds almost too exciting, but, maybe not, if your life was constantly on the line…
Her feet planted on top of a hill, and at the distance she could see Roguefort waving to her. Their hands were placed around their mouth as they called to her, “You found me!”
Hearing Roguefort’s voice sent a small bolt of lightning down her spine, she couldn’t help but smile. All the petty annoyances towards Roguefort seem to be washed away.
She slid down the hill, giggling to herself. Gosh she felt so childish.
“How was the run?” They said teasingly once Butter Pretzel got close enough to hear them.
Butter Pretzel's response was only a groan, waving her hand dismissively as if it was a way for her to imaginary remove their shit eating grin.
“Wait. You saw me?” Her tone is almost accusatory.
The other responded in an all knowing “mhm”.
This prompted Butter Pretzel to look away, almost embarrassed. Her face almost formed into a scowl.
“Ugh, this is all your fault. Just look at me!” She groaned again. Crossing her arms and tapping her feet. She was getting all antsy again.
Roguefort smiled, they could see how disheveled she looked, though it didn’t stray too much from how she usually looked. The only difference was at least she wasn’t trying to let herself rot inside of a grave she dug herself.
Butter Pretzel was too caught up on her own ego to notice the two fingers that lightly pinched her chin. Her eyes widened as her face turned to face the other.
“Just relax, my sweet, look what I brought you.” They cooed before releasing Butter Pretzel from their touch.
“My sweet? What’s up with you and coming up with terrible pet names.” She scoffed, still having her arms crossed. Roguefort gave out a small laugh.
She wouldn’t dare to admit how it made her heart leap a little whenever Roguefort called her all kinds of pet names. She had to cover it up with false annoyance because she didn’t want to give into Roguefort’s tease. Butter Pretzel couldn’t let them win if they knew how they made the butterflies soar in her stomach while getting on her nerves at the same time.
She was to hung up on the pet name to notice the painting Roguefort has brought out. They had to press it closer towards Butter Pretzel to abrupt her from her train of thought.
“My painting!” She said in relief, but her tone was also laced with a bit of pride. She grabbed it and sat down, examining her painting as the sun reached over both their heads. Her eyes carefully observed the previously made brush strokes made from the night before, seeing her painting at a different light.
Roguefort took a seat right besides her, placing down the paints, paint brushes, and a painting palette.
Butter Pretzel set the painting on top of a plane of grass, adjusting the equipment that Roguefort gave to her.
“If only you stole my easel as well…” She grumbled to herself.
Roguefort let out a chuckle, “I thought I was forbidden from stealing from your studio?”
“Don’t forget, you did steal my painting…and my things! If you stole my easel as well, that would have made up for it.” She popped open a new tube of paint, applying some color onto her palette.
Roguefort hummed for a moment, watching her set up. They were familiar with the way Butter Pretzel started her painting process.
“Perhaps, I can make it up to you.” Roguefort mused.
“And how are you going to do that?” The other responded, still focused on setting her paints, but nevertheless the thief has piqued her interest once again.
“Will these flowers satisfy?” They gave a half smirk while pulling out a bundle of flowers in one hand, tied together by a laced ribbon.
The painter paused momentarily, the way her eyes shined gave away that her heart skipped a beat.
“Where’d you steal these from?” She spoke abruptly.
“You’d be surprised where.”
“Ugh, come on.” A glint of disappointment was in her eyes, but it faded away as she adjusted herself to sit more comfortably.
“You can tell me” she poked, curious nonetheless
The thief gave a small smile, “I stole it from my own garden.”
A brief moment of silence occurred. Butter Pretzel’s face twitches, the corners of her lips press upward. Her arms rest on her stomach as her mouth opens into laughter.
“You- you are so strange,” she laughed in between breaths
The thief was confused, looking at her laughing and then returned the flowers at hand.
While the painter sputtered more incoherent words, Roguefort noticed how her cheeks perked up as she laughed. Her face brightens in a way they don’t see often. Like the sun, it was warming them.
After she finally caught her breath, she wheezed, “The scallions.”
“Hmm?” Roguefort gave a frazzled look, “I suppose, it is strange when a thief gives you scallions rather than steal it from you.” They recall the soft orange light beaming above them, as they quickly sliced the scallions on a cutting board.
“No-no, no.” She shook her hands and head, leaning in as she placed her elbow on her leg so she could prop her chin onto her hand.
“You.” She points at Roguefort’s chest.
“Garden.” She punctuated.
“Oh, that’s right. What about it?”
“Out of all people, you garden.” Her voice dragged out to add emphasis.
“I quite don’t understand. What’s so shocking about me having hobbies?” Roguefort leaned in, raising an eyebrow. They’re unsure where she’s going.
“You never tell me anything about yourself.”
Silence washes over them, the same way it did the night before. Roguefort gave a soft smile while leaning back.
“I’m rather secretive. There’s a lot I don’t tell people.” They paused for a moment, almost as if they’re carefully selecting the words they say next. “I guess that makes you the first.”
Idle chatter continued, their words flying with the wind and dancing with the grass.
“That reminds me. The scallions. Did you grow your own?” Butter Pretzel asked, her voice heightened from excitement. The moments where Roguefort talked about themselves were sparse.
“Ah, keen eye you have. No surprise coming from an artist like you, but to answer your question: yes I grew them myself.” Roguefort gave a cheshire-like smile, then followed it with a wink.
Butter Pretzel could feel the blush creep along her cheeks. To keep herself occupied, she returned back to the painting.
Roguefort remained seated by her side. It was hard to tell, but their posture seemed rather relaxed. Almost as if they’re content to be at the present. Their half hooded eyes watched Butter Pretzel’s hands and the way she deliberately chooses to make bold marks on the painting. It was admirable to say the least. Roguefort’s gaze was focused more on her rather than the painting, and she knew it all too well. She could feel their presence placed on her and there’s no doubt that they could see her hand tremble just a bit.
“It’s an honor to watch a skilled individual like you effortlessly paint beautiful works of art.” Roguefort’s words were genuine, but their voice was smooth like silk. Compliments that came from them do not inflate Butter Pretzel’s ego, rather, it made her melt.
“You flatter me too much.” She said in a deadpan fashion. Her hands reached to the bridge of her nose to scratch, but it was an attempt to hide away the heat that was rising in her face.
“I can’t help it, someone like you deserved all the praise she could get.” Roguefort smirked, leaning back to see how she responded.
Butter Pretzel’s eyes met with Roguefort, the way they smiled was a tell tale sign that they’re trying to tease her.
“Oh you…” She held her hand into a fist, her eyebrows furrowed, but she couldn’t hold back a smile.
“I would have punched you by now,” she protested, her hands gesturing as she spoke, “ if you weren’t so…” Her voice trailed off.
“So?” Roguefort inquired, eyes narrowing in that same mischievous signature look they always have on their face.
Butter Pretzel choked on her own words, it seems she had cornered herself in an awkward position, so she surrendered.
“Forget about it.” Her face scrunched as she murmured, mentally scolding herself for constantly speaking the first thing that came in her mind.
Roguefort let out a warm-hearted laugh, which caught Butter Pretzel off guard. Her eyes narrowed in scrutiny as she tried to read the features of their face. She’s confused as to why they’re laughing, and why did their laugh make her pulse spike.
Butter Pretzel’s companion brought a finger to their eye, brushing away the tear that pricked on the corner of their eye.
“I was afraid I almost lost you there! I really missed seeing your sourful attitude, truly.”
Butter Pretzel’s jaw clenched, the same way she would before she gave a half-assed defensive remark, but the realization dawned her.
She was far too deep in the grave to notice how long she trapped herself inside the studio, and didn’t realize how others had begun to notice the change in not only her routine, but her personality. She wasn’t hesitant to say the first thing that came to her mind, but her responses became dull and bitter.
She paused for a moment before she spoke, “Huh, I guess I almost lost myself there.”
The air between them became tense as memories from last night hang true to the state Butter Pretzel was in. She let out a deep sigh, returning back to her painting.
The grass swayed closely to Butter Pretzel’s legs in a comforting manner. Reminding her to stay grounded. Her breathing steadied, soon enough her body was swaying with the grass that danced with the wind.
“I forgot to say thank you for bringing me out here.” She spoke, her eyes remaining on the canvas.
Roguefort smiled, leaning in closely. The hairs at the front of their face hung close to Butter Pretzel’s shoulders as they watched her paint.
“It was my pleasure.”
The sun bathed its light over the two as long as it could. Even as the sun reached towards the ends of the horizon, the both of them were still chatting away.
“Roguefort, quit moving around!”
“I’m not moving dear.”
The sun would have loved to stay and watch the two’s relationship blossom, in celebration, the sun laid out its own painting across the sky. Streaks of warm orange stretched across the horizon, yellow hues peaked through the orange. Colors akin to Butter Prezel’s own paintings. Eventually, the warmer hues were taken over by the color of the night.
“I fear the night may be calling out to me.”
“Hold on, a few more minutes. Hold your pose.”
“Must I remind you that you have said that several times within the past hour?”
“Yeah, yeah. You owe me this for stealing my painting.”
Butter Pretzel had her canvas propped against a nearby tree, her hand moving freely. Paint splattered across her canvas as if she was conducting an orchestra.
At a distance, Roguefort stood, holding their pose for the painting that Butter Pretzel needed.
Roguefort gave out a relieved sigh, watching Butter Pretzel move eagerly in spontaneous bursts of energy. The inspiration that sparked hours ago still has fuel in its tank. It doesn’t seem like Butter Pretzel has any time of stopping.
“How does this pose look?” They teased, leaning forward just a little to distort the pose. They quickly fixed up their posture before they could be bombarded by commands.
The moment they shared would only last for another hour or two, before they had to part their ways. It was moments like these where they were taken away from their world to live without the eyes of an audience.
The stars above them twinkled once more, guiding them back to the places they needed to be, only to be soon to guide them back together again. Sharing another conversation that is held between them and the stars above.