Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Butterflies & The Net ❯ PROLOGUE: The Stuff of Best-Sellers ( Prologue )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Butterflies & the Net by iloveanimecartoons

Genre(s): Psychological/Angst/Hentai/Drama/Romance
Rating: MATURE
Latest Revision: July 21, 2007

A/N: Hi, media miner members. This is iloveanimecartoons (lover of fan fictions, writer of none—LOL)! I figured it was long overdue. Now, this is my 1st go round, and I decided to go for an original story…yeah, yeah, I know, my bio page says I've got Inuyasha fics on the way…(d'errr…eventually?)… (Yadda yadda yadda…); but, I'm blocked and the only story that's bursting at the seams, waiting to be read, is this one. But, I've gotta admit, I'M SCARED! **big gulp** Shucks, you reviewers can be HARSH! So, I do implore, beseech, beg and grovel for mercy…and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism! Thankies! OHMYGAWD, I need a BETA!!!!! **begs and grovels and gets on knees…okay, now begs for someone to help me up** Oh, word to the wise, I'm a little weird, so, if you don't get the flow of the story, feel free to email me: iloveanimecartoons@hotmail.com. Hope you enjoy!

Another Note (examples): `Sprint SUX! '= thoughts bold and italicized words = Flashbacks “I like pie.”= talking ./' = singing

And yet ANOTHER NOTE: Like my Bio page says, I'm weird, so, don't think that my chapter titles always pertain to the chapter's subject matter.

Like Chap 1, for instance…that was just to be silly. And I LOURVE the Kirby Dance!

On with the show… ^_-

PROLOGUE: The stuff of best sellers…

“This is Marchala Nunez with NetWorthy.com: Prime Time Edition! Giving all you, surfing out there in the cyber world, the who's who in internet for the year 2015! Our top story; the mystery You Tube top member EVER: ButterfliesOnTheNet! She's agreed to give us an in-depth interview on our yearly `Top Ten Net-Worthy Individuals' New Years Eve Special”

The screen shows various You Tube upload comments, best of awards, Google, Ask.com, Yahoo Search, and MSN Search links highlighting ButterfliesInTheNet's You Tube page and Butterfly shrine sites. Suddenly the screen is littered with various animated butterfly, heart and cupid icons and this is when Solya Amarante presses on the OFF button on her remote and rolls over to go to sleep. Unfortunately, rest wasn't trying to find her, tonight…

Rolling over, reaching over her nightstand to grab her cell phone, she presses the on button. “It's 2:30 am! Not too late…hmmm…Jerrod! Let me give him a call!”

Pushing #2 on her speed dial, trying to brush aside the nagging in her conscience that said, in short terms, the time was not guaranteed to be the most convenient time for her friend to just drop by for a visit, she waited as the phone rang. On the fifth ring, a groggy voice greeted her.

“Just 10 more minutes, Mom…” Jerrod slurred into the receiver.

Rolling her eyes, Solya sighed and waited. This was a norm—more so, lately—calls in the middle of the night that left little to the imagination. One of three things… Either talks to her till she could barely hold the phone up to her ear, come over and watch either old Super Bowl games, or, the least rare request—to be held. Solya Amarante hadn't had a very loving and secure childhood or adolescence and the only one to show it to her, in ways that she didn't shy from or block altogether were Jerrod a.k.a. `PB' and her ONLY female friend, Jazmin, now in college.

Usually not taking into account that the one-time night owl, Jerrod, now had a 10-7 job and was, therefore assuming a different sleep schedule, it was a norm for her to call and assume the immediate attentions of her best bud.

Growling under his breath about women with their sick desires to test the limits of sleep deprivation on their best friends, he got up, with the phone mashed between his ear and upper arm, pulled on his shorts and sandals.

“Give me 15 minutes, Sol…k? Ah shi--” Jerrod muttered, rubbing his tender big toe that he stubbed rather painfully on his side table leg.

“Sorry….what, PB? You cool?” Solya inquired, wondering if he fell, noticing the sudden mid-level thump on the other end of the line; that being about all she could truly discern. “Dude, is your phone slipping? Your voice is off.”

“Oh my bad, Sol…let me just finished getting dressed…I'll be there in a bit, `kay?”

“Okay, twenty bucks says you won't make it in 15,” she teased, her usual way of baiting Jerrod into a challenge to deter him from crawling back into bed and resuming his slumber while insuring she wouldn't wait too long. Did she always win? Yup! Chalk it up to living on the 17th floor and the much-too-often broken elevator. Not that she couldn't afford to lose—perish the thought. With all the sponsors, appearance fees and her own savings, she was well-funded enough to be a bit frivolous; not her style, per se, but she could, if she wanted to. Comfortable to have all basic needs met, and a few video games, and gadgets. Not to mention a couple cool outfits every now and then. Solya definitely wasn't a big spender or a craver of money; she was just satisfied to have bills paid, and a treat or two for her and her best buds, sometimes. Her friend chuckled and, with a quick, “I hang up and you start timing me! See ya soon!” he hung up.

“Dragging my feet won't help…UGH! I wanna be lazy, damn it!” Solya thought out loud. A quick glance around her room and, soon, she was deciding to tidy a bit—a.k.a. throwing everything in the closet and under the bed and putting on a comforter that hits the floor.

“Juvenile…sad…and lazy? Eh, whatever works…okay, this is sad…ah; hell…it's just PB.” Yeah, that's what her lips said, but, lately, that hasn't been the unanimous vote of her entire being. Prerecorded responses to replay as a reassurance that things are just as they should be—nothing different between her and PB? Never!

“Now to get the rest of me in agreement,” she muttered half-heartedly, thinking of every wrestling move she ever got caught in and the intricate steps used in disentangling oneself. Wanting to kick herself for her experiment gone awry, she chalked it up to experience and finished tidying up.

“Thirteen minutes, twenty-seven seconds, and counting…”

<(^^<) <(^^)> (>^^)> (>^^<) <(^^<) <(^^)> (>^^)> (>^^<) <(^^<) <(^^)> (>^^)> (>^^<) <(^^<) <(^^)> (>^^)>

`A quiet evening—err, morning—watching Old School Super bowls, munching on Sun Chips and Gatorade, yeah. Just me and my man, PB…this, I can do!'

Okay, a generally honest person, she could admit some obvious things. Solya stretched out—well, as much as she could with her best friend lounging in a pocket between her side and the backrest of the couch—sighing, watching TV…no, rewind. TV was watching her. Not one to give into serious feminine tendencies—especially around her boys, she tried to tamp down the discomfort in the proximity of their bodies, and the state of dress.

Anemic since birth, Solya wasn't one to use air conditioning much, as it was, in her mind, the equivalent of standing in front of an open freezer all day, she opted to turn on the fan and wear her silk sleeveless PJ top and shorts. Knowing how hot it would be in the otherwise cool house, after climbing 17 floors as quickly as possible—drat, he almost made the bet by 35 seconds—he, instantly stumbled into her shower for a 5 minute wet down and, after determining this was a “football and hang out” visit, he started the first game and plopped on the bed with Solya, shirtless and finally comfortable.

Okay, that was over an hour ago. Now…

`Friggin' HELL! Lawd! What's PB think I am—a pillow? Oh well…guess I ought abe used to this, by now…still…'

“So, PB…?” Solya started, nudging her drooling buddy in the side with her elbow.

Jerrod, little booger he is, actually mussed the area between Solya's back and upper arm in much the same fashion of fluffing a pillow. Satisfied he'd be comfy for at least the next half hour, he sighed and muttered a muffled reply into Solya's Dallas Cowboys tee shirt. “…Mmmm…Sol…? Dang, you're warm!”

“PB!” Solya squeaked, tensing up and easing away when PB unknowingly breathed warmly on one of her GOMs—“Get Off Me”--her term for a hot spot.

Jerrod jerked up, groggily, wiping his chin on the back of his hand. “Sol? My bad, man. Ewww, you got a napkin?”

“Hmm?” Sol asked, slightly preoccupied with the flush of heat that shot from her side to her stomach in a decidedly uncomfy, yet, interesting way…a way she wasn't trying to rightly define.

Shaking his head, scratching the spot on her back that he soon realized he unwittingly aroused, to lessen the effect—he knew his long-time friend of 22 years had serious intimacy issues and wasn't always open with that facet of her life. But, he knew her enough to get it, without pressing her.

“Here you go, Homer, “ she teased, calling him the nickname she chose to deem him worthy of as she saw his drooling on her to be similar to Homer Simpson's reaction to doughnuts—a MUCH nicer nick than the one she used to call him—as she passed him 5 paper towels, already prepared and folded together on her nightstand.

“Thank goodness I finally outgrew `Beethoven'—that was just nassie, “ Jerrod joked, wondering idly if she always had those paper towels there or if it was just his half-sleep mind still trying to attain truly conscious thoughts—man, he was tired! But, he knew the stress Solya was going through and he could take a nap at lunchtime—she was more important. He turned around to the headboard to rearrange the pillows and stretch a bit.

“How the HELL did this get so big…so…so…erm…complicated? I just…I'm lost—” Solya whined, trailing off as she sighed heavily. Jerrod shook his head and waited for the outburst. He didn't have to wait long… “TELL ME WHAT TO DO, MAN!” Solya shrieked, burying her face in Jerrod's back and dissolving into very seldom seem or heard tears. Jerrod slowly turned around, patting Solya's shoulder in an effort to get her to look up. When she did, he offered her a piece of his paper towel and opened his arms wide. “I won't say `I told you so'…I won't rub your nose in it…I won't crush your pride like that…just…c'mere, Sol?” he beckoned, holding his hands out in a welcoming gesture.

Slowly, he could see it; the mask of toughness, of self-reliance, of stubbornness, crumbling down like snow in an avalanche. Soon, she was that same `girl' he met 22 years ago, standing her ground in the midst of a crowd of 4th grade boys as they teased her mercilessly and she stood stock still, chin raised, arms crossed...defiant. Sure, trace tears lined the bottoms of her eyes but, there they stood, stubbornly frozen in place, screaming "You WON'T break me!" But, the damn DID break, didn't it? How it happened so simply is still a bit of a 'whoa moment' for Jerrod, to this day, considering all he did was pull her out the crowd, by the hand and looked all the boys in the eyes, shook his head slowly and walked her to the bus stop and waited with her. Something about her, her quiet resolve to weather the storm alone. And, about the boys, as well--the mere fact that they thought they had the RIGHT to do anything even remotely wrong to her...about the entire situation, period! There was SOMETHING about it that made him absolutely furious. Something made him look at her...she was staring into his eyes with this look of awe, of confusion, of disbelief and then the first tear fell. Her face fell into an expression he'd never seen before. Sure, at first glance, it resembled a "You're my HERO!" type of awe, unless you really, REALLY looked into that gaze...then he knew it...it screamed "Someone DOES care!" And he just KNEW. From that day on, he knew. He'd NEVER leave her. And, even now, there was this look in her eyes—not of he tomboy image that everyone knew, loved and were fine with allowing her to assume--the legend in her own mind…the name she made for herself…impenetrable, unshakable and always, ALWAYS in control. she was never much a pushover—not his Solya the Soldier! But, sometimes, she let you in and you SAW it...a REAL person... And this was the person her reached out to...

Solya hesitated...moments of weakness, even with trusted people, weren't really things she gave into easily--but, this was PB! So, after affecting a grudging acceptance of said hug, she leaned into him, slowly, stiffly. Jerrod knew not to rush this. Sure, she trusted him with everything she had, everything she was, and everything she wasn't...but intimacy, even platonic, was always sort of taboo for her. But, damn it, she NEEDED this! Accepting the embrace he offered her, Solya slowly returned the hug, she babbled and whimpered, shaking with repressed emotion and sobbed herself to sleep in his arms—she wasn't looking for an answer, necessarily; mostly a good friend and an open ear. "So the drama"…that was her view of her life and became her mantra. So spent, mentally and emotionally that she couldn't even form simple sentences, she drifted into a fidgety slumber, relaxing, slowly, in his arms.

'Did I have a say? Would she really have listened? She said she valued my input; that what I thought mattered; that we would do this together...I thought she was okay. How could I have been so careless? Sol...aw, man. How do I fix this for you? What can I say or do? Help me help you...oh great! Now, I'm going all Jerry McGuire on her. Okay, I think I need sleep.'

What could he do...really? No. That ball really was in her court. But, first, she need to see that she really didn't have everything under her control and that wasn't a realistic way to view things, anyway. The dawn's rays penetrated the small bedroom as he held her, surrounded her in warmth, in security, in compassion that lacked the air of pity she so despised. All night long, he stayed at her guard, sheltering her from the demons, the skeletons in the closet, the memories that had the power to cripple and maim and crush...he just held her, rocking her back and forth, and stroked her hair, her back. Shaking his head, he held her, thinking back to the beginning. Did we REALLY get it all, back then? Now, he wasn't so sure. Sighing, he laid her down and wrapped his arms around her, wiping her tears off her cheeks. His best friend. How had it all gone so awry? Thinking back, he had to admit, "It all started to simply…"

And the drama all started about seven and a half years ago…

`God, you're so strong, Solya. I see it—D does, too. We all do. Thing is, I don't know if you do.' Jerrod thought to himself, adjusting his hold on his best friend. Slowly falling asleep in his arms, Jerrod kissed Solya's temple, cheek, eyelids. There was nothing necessarily intimate in the contact, he knew; it was just the way he usually comforted her when she let her guard down (which she only did with him). He wished she was confident enough in her own view of self to allow him to comfort her like this at the onset of problems, knowing she'd be calmer much quicker and less likely to get stressed; his family was very physical in their interactions with others—rather `touchy-feely”—so this was natural to him. Now, to Solya Deja Amarante, it most definitely wasn't. But, in this instance, in this slight breaking of her will, she accepted what he offered and fell into a peaceful and, this time, at least, calm slumber. She shifted to accommodate the change in position. Shaking his head, he relaxed further, mentally going over the last nearly 8 years of his life, he resolved, `It doesn't matter…then, now, whenever…I've got your back. I do. Always…'

A/N: Well, that was chapter one…sort of a “Whoa, HTH did we get HERE?!” type of opening…lol! Next chapter is longer and explains things a bit more. Comments and CONSTRUCTIVE criticisms are very much encouraged and I'll try to answer any questions I can ASAP. I'm doing this in a library, for now, since my PC crashed. **crawls into a ball and whimpers** Chapter 1 gives a bit of a background to the foreground, as it where…lol! I need coffee and butterscotch krimpets, ignore that play on words. Feel free to let me know if anything confuses you. Lataz!