Summary: There is an art to making the perfect paper butterfly.
Written from the perspective of Weiss Schnee
"What are you making?"
"Paper butterflies," Jaune replied as he made another fold.
"That's stupid." It was indeed stupid. Jaune's a grown man making paper butterflies! What's so great about butterflies anyways? I took a seat on the stone bench and watched Jaune work on the grass. Crossing my legs, I leaned on my palm - bored. The entire team was busy. Ruby was being Ruby. Blake was reading as per usual. And Yang Xiao Long was… ugh… being Yang.
There was absolutely nothing to do!
While I sulked, Jaune finished his first butterfly. It was soft blue. He raised it up in the sunlight, the blue paper looking slightly transparent. He smiled at his work before gently laying it onto the side before picking up another sheet of paper and beginning his work anew.
I watched it all, palm resting on my cheek. What could be so interesting about a stupid butterfly?
Jaune worked quietly, carefully, all the while with a smile on his face.
… at least this was better than doing nothing.
"Are you going to use all of those sheets?" I asked.
"Okay, how do you do this?"
It was the lunch break in between classes. My delivery of top-of-the-line folding paper (each perfectly measured out to exact National Paper Folding Organization dimensions down to the millimeter) came exactly on time. I had spent the last night searching instructions and watching how-to videos on folding paper butterflies. It looked so simple. It looked so easy!
BUT WHY WAS IT SO DIFFICULT!?
"You fold it."
"Yeah! I know! Duh! Even a moron couldn't figure that out! But these instructions… Argh! It's witchcraft! Pure and heretical witchcraft!" I fumbled around with the paper a little. "But how comes yours looks so much nicer and mine looks like crap?"
"A couple thousand butterflies and practice."
"Ugh! This is stupid! What deal did you make with the God of Grimm for that?"
"Nope. No deal. Just practice and elbow grease."
"Is elbow grease something you can buy at the store?"
"Yeah," said Jaune with a laugh. "It's next to the headlight fluid."
It was then I realized he was joking.
I mumbled a few choice curses before turning my focus to the task at hand. I wanted to make my own butterfly. I wanted to make the most perfect and beautiful butterfly of all. I wanted each wing to be perfect mirrors of each other.
But nothing worked.
Each fold creased wrong. Each press was misaligned. Nothing worked. Frustrated, I crumbled up the piece of paper and tossed it to the small pile of failed creations.
All the while, Jaune sat on the grass and continue folding his butterflies. He didn't even look at me when he said, "You'll do better if you finished one, even if it's not perfect, you know?"
I scoffed. "I don't need a lecture."
I picked up another sheet of paper. Round #103.
It was a cloud day but still warm. I was sucking my fingertips.
A red line made the source of pain obvious.
Papercuts take a while to heal, or so I've read. It's mostly because you keep flexing that part of your body so it never gets a chance to heal properly.
I hate the taste of iron...
Nevermind that now! I have to continue my crusade for the perfect butterfly! It only stings… a little…
I gave a soft whimper.
"Hey lemme see that."
Jaune took my hand.
"What are you doing?"
"Checking the wound. Looks like you got a papercut."
"Why thank you for that brilliant diagnosis, Doctor Obvious." I was being a bit curt, I know. Who can blame me? It stung! It stung a lot!
Jaune retrieved a first aid kit from his back pocket. It was just a small pouch with a couple of wet wipes. He took a tube of antibiotic cream and uncapped it. Gently smearing the cream over the cut, he asked: "how does it feel now?"
"What's so funny?"
"Your hand is pretty warm, Snow Angel."
"I'm going to murder you."
Round #457 was going to have to wait.
"ARGH! STUPID CONTRAPTION!"
I tossed the crumbled piece of paper against the wall. It bounced off and landed in the trash can. Or it would have if there wasn't already a small mountain of defective crumpled paper in there already.
"Weiss… it's just a piece of paper," said Yang. Yang rolled over in her bed. When did she become such an early sleeper!? "Go to sleep."
Yang then clapped her hands. The lights went out.
"Ugh! It's still early!"
"It's 2:00 a.m. As in 2:00 in the morning," said Blake. I could see Blake's outline on the opposite side of the room, her nose stuck in a book. "You should sleep. You may have better luck when you're awake and refreshed."
"What about you?"
"I'm a night cat. I work better at night."
"Isn't the term 'night owl'?"
"I know what I said." Blake paused. "Also 'night owl' is an offensive term in some circles."
I screamed internally and rolled back to not-so-restful sleep.
"There, you got it!"
I smirked. Jaune's praise was the icing on the cake. I had successfully completed my first paper butterfly. It was beautiful. It was made from a light-blue sheet of paper with a white snowflake. Fitting for a Schnee such as myself!
Everything about it was perfect. The dimensions were pristine. The creases were ideal. C'est magnifique!
Buhawahaha! Jaune will have to praise me now!
"Obviously," I said. "This was a piece of cake!" I said with a flip of my hair.
"Good job. Now make another one."
My heart sunk.
Jaune returned to his own craft. He sat, crossed legged, looking at different page in his book on paper folding.
"What are you making?" I had memorized every fold to make a butterfly. He wasn't making a butterfly. He definitely wasn't making a butterfly.
"I'm making a turtle."
I grabbed another piece sheet of paper and eyed Juane's hands carefully, trying to sneak a peek at his book whenever I had the chance.
Paper Butterflies Fin