When I was in 5th grade, the whole class took a trip to the Museum of Natural History in the spring, as a kind of end of school year treat. The Museum has to this day one of the largest butterfly vivariums in the country, and as us kids wandered around, butterflies were flying all over the place, landing on heads and hands while everyone got all cute and giggly about it.

But for some reason, they all avoided me, and it was incredibly upsetting to my 10 year old self. Peter Neel, my resident elementary school terror, pointed to one of the big spotted larvae inching around on a leaf and laughed, saying the larvae was me (this was the same kid who told everyone else in our class that I wore band-aids on my fingers because I had warts, when they were really blisters from violin). Honestly, I wanted to cry.

Seeing I was distraught, one of the girls that worked there took me over to an incubator and pointed out the chrysalises hanging from big monstera leaves. One of them started wiggling, and as the cocoon started to tear, she urged it on, as if that thing in there could actually hear her.

"That one has been wiggling for a few days now," she told me. "It's been in its cocoon longer than usual, but I think it's finally going to make a breakthrough today."

"How do you know that?" I asked her. "What if it can't get out?"

"Have a little faith." And she patted my head with a smile.

Eventually, a massive set of wings emerged, speckled in black and white and burnt orange. It wasn't a butterfly - it was a moth.

"That's an Atlas moth," she told me. "One of the largest species of moth in the world."

When it flew out of the incubator, it found my arm immediately and settled there for a good few minutes, slowly flapping its wings like it was just getting used to them, still in shock that this big, powerful creature is what it had become. I was in awe of it, but the way it stayed there, calm and unassuming, I thought maybe it understood me.

When I got a little older, Silence of the Lambs became one of my favorite "classic" horror movies. The infamous movie poster featuring the death's-head hawkmoth was one of the first tattoos that eventually became my entire horror movie sleeve - but with added moths, to fill more space and because they were badass. Later on, I got two Atlas moths tattooed on my knees. So yeah, I liked moths.

In the movie, the moth signifies "a transformation into something beautiful," and it reminded me of that time at the museum. I waited and waited for my transformation, but I learned that some moths never get out, and they die in the cocoon. As time went on, I kind of figured that would be my fate, stuck behind this protective thing I'd willingly built around myself in hopes that one day I'd be different. But no, I didn't get a transformation because I didn't deserve it, and I was just going to be the ugly larvae forever.

Then she fucking showed up.

At first, all I could do was resent how much she wanted to poke at me, like she was taunting the fact that I couldn't get out of my fucking cocoon. But after we talked at the arcade, I realized she'd just been trying to coax me out of it. It was like she knew I had my wings, and she believed I could do it, just like that Atlas moth at the vivarium. It just took a little longer getting out of its cocoon, just like I did.

Now, I think we finally understood each other too.

Of course, all that was easy for someone who'd probably been beautiful their entire life. I watched her fix her hair in the mirror above the sink in the bathroom of our shared hotel room, leaning forward on her toes to swipe some shiny lip gloss on. I wondered if she knew just how good her ass looked in those jeans.

No. Stop that. I inwardly groaned for even thinking that and tried to shift my focus away. Because the thing is, a butterfly and a moth can't mate. That's not a personality thing, that's a science thing. Scientifically, we were not compatible either, so it didn't really matter how shiny her lips were or how perfectly heart-shaped her ass was.

"Okay, we have to go thrifting," Evie perked up from the other bed. "Manchester has a big thrift store, and I bet there's some real great indie hipster shit from transient Bostonians and whatnot laying around."

Sienna lit up as she stepped back into the room. "Oh, that gives me a great idea. I've seen this all over social media lately, where groups of friends go in and pick thrifts for each other and then exchange them. We could all do that."

Suddenly all the eyes in the room seemed to shift towards me, who'd been sprawled out on the pull out couch on the other side of the room. Even Clark lifted his head out of his book

"Uh...why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Are you actually agreeing to do something fun?" Sienna asked with a coy smirk.

"Oh..." I cleared my throat. "Yeah, uh...that's cool I guess."

Sienna gave me another smile, and when I made a faint effort to give her one in return, I swore I saw the faintest red paint her cheeks.

I guess she seemed to think I needed to stretch my wings.

⋆ ★

For the end of October, it was warm in Manchester compared to where we'd been the last few shows, so it was nice enough to walk from our hotel downtown along the river that snaked through the middle of the city. The sun's reflection beamed off of it, its surface clear glass like a mirror.

"Guess I won't need to ask you for your jacket," Sienna teased as she bumped my hip with hers. While the gesture itself wasn't aggressive, the feeling of her effortless touch made my knees want to buckle.

"Guess I won't have to tell you you should have brought your own," I countered with a faint grin.

It was quiet enough to pick up on all the unsubtle whispering going on behind us, and when I whipped my head around, Evie glowered at me. She had both her arms looped around Clark and Gareth, who smirked like they were in on all the secrets.

Mind your business, she mouthed at me.

I rolled my eyes and tried to avert my attention anywhere but Sienna, but everything reminded me of her - the guy in the truck across the street delivering pink flowers, the jewelry store we walked past that had a gold heart necklace on display in the window, the smell of coffee in the air.

When I finally willed myself to look back at her, she was gone. In fact, they all were.

I whirled around on my heels to see them standing at least 10 feet behind me, waiting at the entrance to a store with a maroon awning.

"You just let me keep walking?" I groaned as I doubled back to join them.

"You were like, in la la land or something," Sienna giggled, and it made an embarrassment of heat flare up in my face.

"We wanted to see how far you'd walk until you realized we stopped," Gareth chimed in before elbowing Clark. "Pay up."

Clark rolled his eyes and reached into his wallet for a dollar bill before smacking it against Gareth's chest.

The thrift store was massive, with long racks of clothes that ran from one end of the store to the other. In the back were crammed shelves of donated home items - everything from dishes and mugs to whole ass couches. If you threw anything you didn't want into a wormhole, it would end up here apparently.

Since Raf decided to stay back (suspiciously saddled with more meetings and phone calls), there was an uneven number of us to play Sienna's little "game," which meant someone got left out. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that Evie volunteered and designated herself as the "host" for our little game. She used a randomizer on her phone to see who would be thrifting for who, and to literally nobody's surprise, Sienna and I got each other.

Evie probably rigged it. I didn't know how, but I knew in my bones that she did.

"Alright, you guys have 20 minutes to find your person the thrifted item that fits them best." Evie held her phone up to go live on Instagram, and I rolled my eyes so hard I think I saw into the back of my skull. "On your marks, get set, go!"

Everyone bolted off except for me, who stood there dumbfounded and shrugged while Evie continued filming.

"Are you having regrets?" she asked with a smirk.

"So many regrets," I sighed and shook my head.

"Well, you're being timed," she reminded me in a sing-song voice. "So get to it, your majesty."

I surrendered with a groan and slunk off. You'd think a place like this would be more organized given all the stuff that seemed to explode from the drywall of the store, but all I could manage to find was something that resembled a women's section, with shirts and jeans and god knows what haphazardly thrown onto the racks.

In theory, this could have made the whole thing more fun, but neurons were firing off and ricocheting all through my body faster than I could keep up. I didn't want to get something dumb and have her think I didn't know her at all, but I also didn't want to expose myself as some mushy idiot by getting her something that she'd perceive as a romantic gesture of some kind. I also never wanted to assume a girl's size. That was a major danger zone. Especially because certain sections of her torso were larger than others.

And then of course, I wanted to win and get her back for hustling me in Mario Kart. Nothing was ever simple for me, was it?

After going through a few racks and finding nothing of substance except a sequined dress that I definitely thought was a shirt, Evie came skipping up to me, phone in hand and up in my face.

"What do you want?" I groaned, keeping my head down as I aggressively scraped through the next rack.

"Find anything you like?" she asked, her shit eating grin wide and almost maniacal, like the cartoon movie villain whose elaborate plan has finally come together.

"No," I grumbled, dropping my gaze back down to the racks. "This is bullshit."

"I'm inclined to remind you that we're liveeee, and there's like, 10,000 people watching right now." She sang the word live in a high soprano pitch.

So I lifted my eyes back to her, looked directly into her iPhone camera with the flattest expression I could muster, and flipped her off. But when Evie continued grinning that slick grin.

"Ladies and gentlemen, did you expect anything less from the Prince of Darkness?"

She laughed again as she skipped off, the chains on her big baggy jeans clanging and banging like fireworks.

I sidestepped over to the next rack, nearly tripping over a discarded hanger on the floor. When I went to pick it up, I realized something was still half hanging from it. Something pink. It was a tiny zip-up sweatshirt made of that soft, velvety kind of material. The pull tab to the zipper was a silver J, and I couldn't help but smirk when I turned it over, where it said JUICY in purple glittery script.

Winner winner chicken fucking dinner.

When our 20 minutes was up, we all reconvened at the front of the store. There were people shopping who'd tried to make it subtle that they'd stopped to watch us. Maybe we looked like somehow we were actually famous, despite looking like a rag-tag brat pack of heathens.

"Okay, Clarky and G-Money," Evie announced with the theatrical tone of a game show announcer. "You guys go first."

Clark held up a purple pullover that looked like it had seen much better days, and on the front was a logo for the Reno Jazz Festival, the bright neon letters cracked and peeling.

"Cute, we all know Gareth's a sucker for jazz," Evie said with a grin. "Okay, now Gareth."

Gareth pulled out a stack of books that looked to be in even worse shape than the sweatshirt Clark had, grinning ear to ear proudly.

"What is that?" Evie asked, scrunching her eyebrows together.

"What? They're classic literature books, which is exactly what Clark likes. There's Hemingway in here." Gareth's expression morphed into one of bewilderment. "You said items, not clothes."

"Okay, fair point," Evie shrugged. "Now then...the one we're all waiting for. Polly Pocket and the Prince of Darkness."

Sienna and I shared a side-eyed glance, and I tilted my head to let her go first.

"Okay, so..." she held up a black t-shirt with a graphic of a zombie-looking guy tearing his guts out of his stomach, and I couldn't hide the grin as I recognized the dripping, bloody Cannibal Corpse logo at the top. "I just saw blood and guts and cannibal and immediately thought of you. I mean, I don't know what that says about you, but..."

She quickly handed it to me as if even touching it grossed her out. It was the right size and everything, and I felt all my own guts start to warm up like I was being cooked on a stove.

"It's a band," I told her flatly. "A band I do happen to like, so...good job, I guess."

Evie turned the camera to me. "Okay Dev, moment of truth."

I held up the hoodie, keeping my expression flat. "Juicy. Enough said."

Sienna squealed and clapped before bopping over to me to take it. "Oh my god how freakin' stinkin' cute is it? I've been dying for one of these, I..."

Her voice trailed off when she realized just how eager she'd been and took a noticeably massive step backwards with her new hoodie.

"Okay, okay, okay." Evie shook as if she could barely contain her excitement. "Now all of you vote." Undoubtedly referring to those 10,000 people watching the livestream. I tried to swallow a groan.

Thank you, Sienna mouthed at me, a faint smile still tugging at her pink glossy lips. I smiled at her, and her smile spread into something beaming and beautiful. We did really just understand each other now.

Evie snickered as she scrolled through the phone. "Okay, it's hard to really keep track with all the comments coming in, but I see Devon's name way more than I see anyone else's."

Sienna scoffed as her jaw dropped, reaching over to playfully shove my arm. "Cheater! Emotional manipulation! Mine was so better."

I snickered and offered her a casual shrug. "Would you look at that? I won. So what do I get?"

Sienna mirrored my grin as she shook her head, and before I had time to react to what she was doing, she rocked forward on her toes and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. The sweet, candy scent and the stickiness from her lip gloss lingered behind on my skin after she pulled away. My heart seized in my chest.

"That's what you get, you big jerk."

She smirked, looking way too satisfied with herself as she walked away, leaving me to make futile attempts to resuscitate myself. Time of death, 1:34 PM, October 23rd.

⋆ ★

i love our cute thrifty angel demon boy (this gif was actually from a merch drop video, which i may or may not have bought like 4 things from)

once again shoutout to my new hampshire plug oliviaxtucker for giving me the inside scoop

so now we've got a CHEEK KISS? ARE WE ALMOST THERE??? who's to say, really? not me. i don't know anything.