His housemate came running in, shaking water from his snow-white hands, and Blaine found him unbearably beautiful all over again. It’s a creature’s instinct to want to tease something lovely—and Blaine, no exception, pulled those soft, still-damp hands toward him with a mischievous smile.
“…Could you… show me your wings?”
“…What?”
The butterfly, who always wore a painted-on smile and never showed much surprise or emotion, looked genuinely flustered for the first time. And for some reason, that reaction brought Blaine a rush of pleasure.
A shiver ran through him. Barely suppressing his laughter, Blaine’s eyes sparkled.
For a creature with wings, they were essentially treasure. It made sense: wings were delicate. The slightest damage meant you couldn’t fly—and in this world of ruthless survival, that was a straight path to a bad ending.
Especially for beings like honeybees and butterflies, who lacked real weapons. He’d heard that such creatures never showed their wings to anyone except those they truly trusted or cherished—not even close friends.
Blaine was curious. Maybe even testing him. Either way, it wasn’t out of kindness.
No—call it what it was. It was mean-spirited. Driven by pride, curiosity, suspicion, and a selfish need to feel special. It was anything but pure.
“Can’t you show me?”
Even throwing out a line like that—taunting and deliberate—made it clear this wasn’t innocent. Maybe not malicious exactly, but it was driven by all the wrong impulses. And that one small misstep would soon upend Blaine’s entire life.
That’s how it always was. Creatures never see what’s coming.
“Ah, well, I guess that’s a bit…”
“I’ll show you.”
It was Blaine’s turn to be stunned by the calm reply.
“If it’s Bee-Bee asking… then I’ll show you. My wings.”
***
A butterfly’s wings weren’t just for flight. They also served to ward off predators—meant to startle and scare them away.
Sure enough, Hurel’s snowy, soft-looking wings were streaked with jet-black markings that stood in eerie contrast against the pale backdrop. They radiated an ominous energy. But even so… they were beautiful. So beautiful, Blaine couldn’t look away.
Maybe that was it—maybe some predators failed to attack because they were stunned by this strange, haunting beauty.
Lost in thought, Blaine suddenly realized he hadn’t swallowed in a while and gulped.
“…Can I… maybe touch them?”
He hadn’t meant to say it aloud—it just slipped out. But that was rude, wasn’t it?
Yet Hurel simply smiled shyly and nodded.
From the moment he’d pulled off his shirt and turned his back, Blaine hadn’t been thinking straight.
Moving stiffly, like a wind-up toy, he reached toward the pale wings.
“…They’re beautiful.”
Again, the words slipped out before he could stop them.
The wings were softer than anything he’d ever touched—so delicate, they made powdered pollen seem coarse by comparison.
They reminded him of silk. Or a painting on the finest paper.
Hurel let out a sleepy little laugh, as if the touch tickled.
“Beautiful, huh? That’s the first time I’ve heard someone say that. Most creatures say they’re creepy or gross…”
Blaine had meant to object, to say that’s not true at all, but stopped short.
Because instead of feeling angry that someone could insult such beauty, something much darker swelled inside him.
A surge of emotion boiled up like lava, searing and cold at once.
His chest went tight. His head burned. What the hell was this feeling? Blaine—deeply unsettled—blurted out a question without thinking.
“…Have you shown your wings to anyone else before?”
What was that? To anyone else but me?
Was he… jealous? What right did he even have to feel that way?
“Haha.”
Hurel let out a soft, amused laugh, like he found Blaine adorable.
Blaine felt his face flush with heat. Caught up in witnessing such surreal beauty, his mouth was running wild—blurting out things better left unsaid.
Was there no magic spell to suck the words back in?
“Ufufu, really now… oh my, you’re just too cute.”
Still laughing. Too much, even.
That dreamy, silky laughter continued endlessly, sweet and airy like powdered sugar. And somehow, that made Blaine uneasy.
Hurel wasn’t the type to mock people so openly. It was strange. Off.
“You’re just precious, Bee-Bee. No need to get so worked up.”
His voice now… sounded a little off. Almost eerie.
“Huh…?”
That’s when Blaine finally noticed—something was different about his vision. The space around him had… tilted? Distorted?
What was happening?
Just as panic started to creep in, he felt a warm, gentle touch against his burning cheek.
He realized then—it wasn’t the world that had shifted. He’d collapsed.
What…?
He tried to move—to push himself up. But his fingers wouldn’t move. He tried to speak—but even his tongue felt stiff, frozen at the root. All he could do was blink, helpless and paralyzed like a wooden puppet.
“You’re just too precious… it’s almost a problem.”
Blaine tried desperately to signal to Hurel with his eyes, but the butterfly only stood over him, smiling.
That beautiful white wing still spread out before him.
Why? What’s happening?
And then—Panthiana’s voice echoed in his mind.
“…Ahh. I thought I’d go crazy, having to wait so long. But how kind of you to lay the feast out yourself.”
“…?”
There was no reason to refuse, was there?
Smiling sweetly—so, so sweetly—Hurel leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Blaine’s cheek. Then, ever so gently, he lowered Blaine’s large body to the ground.
It felt like a gift had dropped right into his lap. He was delighted—ecstatic. If he had any less dignity, he might’ve squealed with joy.
Blaine, meanwhile, was drowning in horror and confusion, his eyes rolling wildly as he tried to grasp what was happening.
Hurel, of course, had no obligation to explain a thing.
There was no need to mention that the powder on his wings carried a neurotoxic venom strong enough to take down even apex predators. Nor that if Blaine had been the least bit less his type, he’d have ended up just like the rest. Nor that, ever since moving in with Blaine, Hurel had been secretly sabotaging his hunts from the shadows. Nor that he’d been luring predators out one by one and turning them into Blaine’s meals.
“I mean, with how dangerous it is out there, how could I possibly let my precious Bee-Bee wander around freely?”
If anyone else were here, they might’ve screamed: You’re the dangerous one!!
But sadly, it was just the two of them.
A paralyzed spider, helpless in a trap, and a butterfly who’d just captured a predator so big, any other prey would’ve fled in terror.
Unable to contain his glee, Hurel beamed from ear to ear.
A soft, syrupy laugh spilled from his lips.
“Don’t worry—it’s not bad for your health.”
He whispered it sweetly, lovingly. As he pressed his plush lips along Blaine’s sharp jawline, chin, and neck, again and again.
“Huu…”
“Relax, Bee-Bee. I’ll take very good care of you. I’ll love you so, so much. And you won’t have to lift a single finger. Just like always—I’ll make you tons of delicious food, too.”
Blaine couldn’t make sense of a single word.
But neither could he speak. He couldn’t even protest.
Frozen in place, he could only blink and tear up, on the verge of crying.
Why is this happening?
Blaine regretted it—regretted it all—far, far too late.
Side Story: IF. Butterfly x Spider – The End.
