An intermittent crackling of cyan flashed in the back of Kijuro’s eyelids. A gulf of black matter encaptured his vision. It was an irregular dream for someone like him, who could usually interpret the whispers of the earth as he walked on it. He could perceive anything upon observation, but to be in a dream devoid of meaning, it brought him out of his sleep.

It didn’t just happen once. It was recurring; replaying three times that spring that manifested with every appearance. The first dream captured no color, and the second blinked cyan intermittently. The last night of dread and uncertainty was the third dream. There, he pictured a butterfly clock—the same one that hung above the soft boy’s head—ticking silently.

That foreboding dream was what caused him to get out of bed two hours before the usual crack of dawn and visit the guest room. A dim light emitted from the slit of the door, and upon opening, he wriggled inside to see Reoni’s eyelids twitching to the dim light flooding into the room. On the side of the bed was Bul, who slept on the floor with a couple blankets the past couple nights to stay beside him. Kijuro understood that his premonition showed itself in unusual ways, and it just so seemed to sense that Reoni was returning to reality.

A small essence of him burned to wake up the entire household and take in the euphoric tears that his family would be shedding after two days of hope was fading. But, he restrained himself, knowing that Reoni didn’t do well with commotion and would feel better if he woke up with a big plate of breakfast. He quietly shut the door.

A few hours later, Reoni who faded in and out of consciousness could now pull himself upright to a hard-staring Bul. His own shot open and he clutched his chest.

“What… I’m… Where—” Reoni blurted his thoughts all at once with no beginning or end. 

Bul simply hushed him and cradled him in an embrace with a tight dimpled smile. “You're back home!”

He instinctively hugged back, though his brain wasn't all there yet. Over time, he collected small pieces of his memory and recalled the room he was in. “How long was I out for…?”

“Two days,” Bul said whilst he slipped away. “You look the most rested you've ever been!”

“I do? I don't feel like it,” Reoni told with a bashful sheep smile he was known for. 

“You will when we eat. Everyone’s been waiting downstairs.” He squeezed Reoni’s hand. Then, he took off towards the door. 

“Key brought you some clothes. Don't keep us waiting, ‘kay?” He tucked himself behind the door, keeping a grin from the other side as he was closing it.

Reoni watched the door a bit longer after it closed. The silence that enveloped him made notice of the strange body aches that were lurking around. The last memory he had before he fainted was running towards a light—and little recollection of the preceding events. 

He peered to the right to see the setup Kijuro made for him. There was a glass of water, a thin and flawless rectangle of folded pajamas, and a little note that read:

As soon as I had witnessed a butterfly in my dreams, I knew you had awakened.

The silken glimmer of your aura is a placid blue,

reflectant of the bright outlooks you bring to others.

Your absence reminded me once again how undeniably missed you are.