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Yellow was zoning out, waiting for his turn at the talent show, when he saw an angel gracing the stage. Blue glided across the stage, jumped effortlessly, and posed with all of his body held in perfect poise down to the fingertips. Every movement flowed seamlessly together. The beauty of music and ballet made sense to Yellow in a way they never had before.
Now, that angel looked lost, standing under an awning to avoid the rain. He was loosely holding a sequined butterfly mask with a stick attached to it in one hand. Yellow peeked around the corner. Blue must be in some kinda situation...I gotta ask if he needs help. It took a bit to counter his nerves and awkwardly shuffle into Blue's field of vision.
He should say hi first, but he had lost his chance. Blue was already looking straight at him. “Hello.”
“H-hi!” He squeaked.
“You’re Yellow, right?”
“Y-you know my name?”
“Yes. I remember you doing a cowboy show at the talent show.” he put a hand over his mouth and giggled. “It was quite impressive.”
Yellow blushed, fidgeting with the handle of his umbrella. He had no idea Blue would also remember him. “You really think so?”
He made all the props himself and wrote the script, though on stage his brother helped by doing all the hand-puppet stuff. It only got a scattering of polite applause from the adults, but he was pretty proud of it.
Blue held the butterfly mask over his face and said: “Criminells of the law, fear your downfall…”
He instantly recognized the line from his show. “For the cowboy of JUSTICE is ‘ere to stop y’all!” He posed as best as he could while holding an umbrella in one hand.
Blue laughed, a tinkling, gentle sound Yellow wished could go on forever. He let it wash over him for a moment before awkwardly asking: “Er…so what are you doin’ here in the rain?”
“Oh.” Blue startled as if he just remembered where he was. “The dance studio teacher went on vacation without telling me, and everyone is at work or school…so I was just waiting it out.”
“Y‘should come with me!” He declared, then stuttered, “I-I mean…I can walk you home. Then you don’t have to get your purdy clothes wet.”
“Saving a damsel in distress, hm? What a noble cowboy you are.” Blue tittered as Yellow blushed even harder. He stepped out of the overhang into the umbrella, and they took off together onto the rain-soaked streets.
"By the way...I really liked seeing you dance, too.”
“You did?”
“Uh-huh. It was real purdy.”
Blue's smile softened. “I'm glad. Me and my parents worked so hard on making everything look perfect. Trying on all those costumes and makeup was really tiring... I wish I could dance on stage wearing whatever I want.”
“I would like to see that too!” Yellow blurted, then added, “Y'd look just as purdy even if ya danced in sweatpants.”
Blue blushed, then held the butterfly mask over his face. “Mr. Butterfly is flattered."
“Who's Mr. Butterfly?”
“When I feel too much, Mr. Butterfly says the things I want to say instead.” Blue lifted the mask to his face again, voice going soft and formal. “Mr. Butterfly thinks Yellow is very sweet.”
“Thanks, Mr. Butterfly! Y're a great fella for helpin' Blue out!”
They walked on a little further, the rain pattering against the umbrella, until Blue slowed to a stop.
“That's my house. Thank you for helping me.”
“Ain't a problem. It's a sheriff's duty to help those in need after all.” Yellow tipped his imaginary hat.
Blue opened the door, then paused and glanced back over his shoulder. “Oh, and say hi to Flowery for me!”
“Wait, y'know Flowery?” They hadn't mentioned him anywhere during their conversation.
“Didn't I say? We're in the same after-school literature program together.”
And with that, Blue slipped inside and shut the door, leaving Yellow standing on the step, speechless.
As soon as he arrived home, Yellow burst into Flowery’s room. “Why didn’t you tell me y’were all friendly with Blue???”
Flowery looked up from his book, confused. “Did I have to?”
“Erm.” Yellow scratched the back of his head, deflating. “Not really, I guess…”
Looking back, he never actually told Flowery that he had Blue in his mind. It was embarrassing, and he thought there wasn’t a point in telling him. Now he’d gone and shouted at his twin for no good reason. It was just like himself to mess stuff up.
But before he could apologize, a comprehending look dawned upon Flowery’s face. He stood up and gripped his shoulder, energized to a disorienting degree. “Wait, I did have to! I'm sorry for not telling you sooner!”
“Y-you are?” Yellow was confused.
“Yup!” he gestured at the air with a flourish. “But I’m going to make it up to you, partner! You two will be good friends sooner than you know it."
Yellow didn’t know why he said it that way, but he was happy. Everything would work out if his twin (slash pardner) was helping him. After all, Flowery was perfect at everything.
Flowery was his fraternal twin (born 9 minutes earlier), but he's so put together. He gets straight As, and is just generally good at anything he tries his hand at. Even appearance-wise, he always managed to look flawless while Yellow always gets caught with his shirt hanging out, or stuck with a hair strand that just won't lie down.
One time after school, he got called to the teacher’s office to get a talk about his terrible exam scores. By sheer chance, Flowery was also there, but he was getting praised for getting perfect marks. Again.
They were doing a great job not acknowledging each other's existence until Yellow's teacher looked over.
"Hey Flowery, you're Yellow's twin brother, right?"
"Yes, ma'am." He was holding his hands behind his back.
"Always so polite. And such a diligent student on top of that! Nobody would guess that you two are twins. Yellow is, well...won't you help him out a bit? You're family, after all."
Flowery's smile was an unmoving mask. "I will see what I can do."
They got their bags and headed home. Flowery hadn't said a word since. He's probably annoyed at me.
Yellow eventually worked up the nerve to speak up. “Sorry...I guess now you gotta waste your time tutorin’ me…"
Flowery stared at him. "What? Oh, yeah." He shrugged. "I won't if you don't want me to. Studying is boring for you, right?"
"Yeah, Sorta..." He would describe it more as 'impossible' rather than 'boring'. Especially math. He couldn't hold numbers in his mind at all; they kept getting jumbled.
Flowery went on. "Adults are weird. As long as one of us gets good grades, that should be enough, no? What would be the point if everyone got perfect scores?"
Yellow didn't quite follow the logic here but nodded anyway.
Flowery patted him on the arm. “Don’t mind that. You should do what you actually like instead. Candy?” He held it out on his palm; it was the one he saw Flowery's teacher give to him earlier.
"Great job, Flowery! Your parents must be so proud..."
He shook his head. "But...it's yours." Flowery got it for doing good. He didn’t deserve to take it away from him.
His twin seemed to contemplate this for a moment, then pointed ahead. "Then let's race to that bridge over there." He was pointing towards the bridge for trains, casting a shadow someways off along the path. "Whoever reaches the shadow first gets it fair and square, got it?"
Without bothering to wait for an answer, he took off.
"Hey, wait up!" Instinctively, Yellow started running after him.
He always found it easier to focus on physical activities. Soon, everything disappeared into a blur. The only sensations he could feel were his lungs and legs working seamlessly.
Before he knew it, the bridge was right above him. He turned around to see Flowery behind him, looking genuinely out of breath, hands weighing upon his knees.
"Yo-you're pretty fast." He straightened, still panting. "Here, you won it fair and square." He fished the piece of candy out of his pocket and offered it to Yellow once again.
He took it numbly. He was surprised by his victory, but more than that, he could guess what Flowery was trying to do for him. "Thank you...pardner."
Flowery smiled, a genuine one this time. "Hey, don't let your guard down. I'm gonna get you next time."
They raced regularly after that. Sometimes he won, sometimes he lost.
What was certain was that Flowery was the best brother anyone could ask for.
...Which was why it doesn't make sense for Yellow to feel bad when looking at him right now.
It was the day after he spoke with Blue. His homeroom teacher was going on and on about some assignment or what have you, to which Yellow wasn't paying attention at all, and was feeling less and less guilty for doing so. As the end-of-day announcements dragged on, kids from other classes started gathering in the hallways, waiting for their friends in this class to be dismissed.
Because he was one of the tallest kids in school, he always got assigned a seat at the back of the classroom. From here, he could see Flowery and Blue chatting away amicably in the hallway. Flowery was talking animatedly, making big gestures as he was wont to do. Blue was seemingly interjecting with his own comments, smiling and laughing occasionally as he did so. What could they possibly be talking about?
When they caught him looking, Flowery did a peace sign, and Blue waved. ...Then they turned away to continue their conversation.
They're probably talking about Shakespear, and Playdoe, and Socratease...all sorts of things I don't got a clue about.
Flowery is perfect, Blue is beautyful...ain't them the most wonderful pair?
Luckily, before Yellow could spiral into more paranoid thoughts, the teacher finally, finally dismissed the class. He grabbed his bag and shot out the door. As soon as he got out, Flowery waved him over. “Hey partner! Blue’s coming home with us today. We’re gonna hang out!”
Blue smiled. "Partner? Can I be your partner too, Yellow?"
A part of Yellow wanted to say yes; Blue can be whatever he wants to be. In reality, he answered: "Erm...it's more of a twin thing, sorry."
Flowery pulled him into a side hug. "Shame. Guess you'll have to find something else to be for Yellow." He winked at Blue.
Blue leaned towards him, speaking in a conspiratorial manner. "Yellow, dear...your brother is quite a handful."
"He...means well?" Yellow said, strangely defensive. No one had reacted that way towards his twin's antics before. Flowery laughed heartily.
They walked home together. Despite his worries of being excluded, Yellow found himself at the center of attention more often than not, mostly by Blue. Flowery hung back, uncharacteristically subdued.
Feeling more and more weirded out by this, he turned back towards Flowery in the middle of explaining to Blue how this decades old western was way better than any movie in the theaters now. "What d'you think, pardner?"
Flowery startled. "Huh? Oh, don't mind me. Just admiring the lovely...grass. And water."
Yellow looked at the boring, shallow river they walked by every day.
"...Alright?"
That was odd. He'd usually agree. Or loudly disagree, just for the fun of it.
This went on until they came near the bridge—the same one with the train tracks, the one that cast its shadow over the path every afternoon. Yellow perked up despite himself. This was their spot. He and Flowery had raced here more times than he could count, and something about the familiarity of it settled the nervous flutter in his chest, if only a little.
“Oh, hey,” Yellow said, pointing ahead. “That's the place we always race at.”
Blue tilted his head, curious. “Is that so? What are the rules?”
Flowery piped up. “Yeah, we usually bet on who gets ice cream, or who gets the better controller. This time, how about…” He considered it for a moment, then grinned. “The winner gets a kiss on the cheek from Blue!”
“Wait, what?” Yellow jumped, but Flowery had already turned to Blue. “Does Mr. Butterfly agree?”
So he knows about Mr. Butterfly too. Of course he does.
Blue lifted the mask to his face and dipped into a small curtsy. “Mr. Butterfly finds these terms... acceptable. He will be acting as judge.”
What is this? Why is this happening?
Yellow's head was a swirl of messy thoughts as they lined up at the starting line. They're rarely this proper about it. He distantly registered Blue's voice counting down the numbers, and they started running.
Does Flowery like Blue too?
That explained his odd behavior and this sudden bet. If they fought over Blue, would Yellow win? Does he even want to?
What do I do?
Lost in turmoil, his foot caught on nothing at all, and he went sprawling face-first into the dirt.
He didn't even feel the sting of it. His mind had already run off without him — conjuring up some far-off future where Flowery was cool and easygoing, Blue was radiant and lovely, and the two of them fit together as they were always meant to. Prom. Growing up. A wedding, even, with Yellow standing somewhere in the back of the crowd, clapping along and smiling so nobody would notice he was crying.
He was tearing up now, actually. Right there in the dirt. Because he loved Flowery, and he didn't want to hate him. Yet here he was, hating this made-up future with everything he had.
“...But who said the winner was whoever crossed first?” Blue's voice cut through the fog in his head.
“Huh?” Flowery and Yellow said it at the same time.
“That's the usual rule,” Blue said, “but Mr. Butterfly's rules are a little different.” He crouched down next to Yellow, tilting his mask.
“The winner is whoever put in the most effort. And that's you, Yellow.”
Before Yellow could even process what that meant, Blue leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
“Congrats on the win, partner,” Flowery said, clapping like he'd been rooting for this outcome all along.
Yellow was too happy to notice the dirt on his face, the burning in his cheeks, or the fact that Flowery had never actually made it to the bridge's shadow at all.