This was originally a task for Norwegian class, but I translated it..and winded up liking the English version better.

Ne ne, please rewiew me! And sorry for any error you are likely to find, I try my best!

A butterflys struggle to fly

He could barely sit still in his seat as they parked the car by the new house. It felt like something inside of him was bubbling and in need of being let out, a sort of jo that you only will find with a little child who has not yet learned of reality. His eyes became wide in awe as he stared up at the nice house, staring at the blue walls and white door as if there was something special about them. When his mother and father opened the door to the car and let him out he stood in front of the house with a huge smile on his face before grasping hold of his mothers hand.

I want to see what its like inside, he begged intently and tugged at her hand. She smiled at her son and nodded.

These are the keys, see if you manage to unlock the door yourself, she said and handed him a bundle of keys. He nodded frantically and ran ahead up to the big, white door. He barely avoided falling flat on his face while climbing the little stair, thats how much of a hurry he was in. He then placed the correct key in the keyhole and tried to turn it around. The door swung open on the third try. The boy stepped into the hallwall into his new home.

His eyes widened for the second time as he walked, no more like ran from room to room. He wanted to see everything, and most preferably as soon as possible! But that is how children are, is it not? They have no patience when there is something exciting going on. And to this little boy the age of six it was definitely something big to be allowed to explore the new house on his own.

From the floor below he could hear his mother call his name and he ran down the stairs to meet her without noticing the horrified expression on her face over seeing him run at that speed.

I have told you a hundred times that you cant run down the stairs love, she said in an accusative tone and placed a large box on the third step. But soon enough she was smiling as well. The boy wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her tight, almost as if she was a big pillow. He liked pillows, they were so soft and fluffy. Of course mommies were too. And his mommy always smelled so nice.

He giggled and pulled away to run outside and help his father. There were many boxes to bring indoors. His mother smiled to herself and looked around. This house was larger than their former one. She wondered how things would work out here, on the other side of the country. Far away from their old home. They spoke so oddly around here. Not that it mattered, she was certain they could get along with the inhabitants of this town.

The day had started out very well. His mother had taken him to his new school. He had patiently waited outside the classoom when she knocked the door and had a word with the teacher that was currently in class. The teacher was a short, round woman that reminded the boy of a grandmother. He had taken a liking to her instantly. She had something friendly about her that he liked.

Just go and sit down by the window over there my dear, she said and pointed to a desk with a smile on her face. She spoke very oddly, the boy thought and giggled a little. He placed his bag beside his desk and sat down on the chair beside a boy his own age. The boy looked like any average boy, his eyes blue.

Hello, he greeted.

The other pushed his glasses further up his nose and stared at him in slight wondering.

You want to be friends? he asked the other and extended his hand. But the boy didnt shake it. Instead he turned his head away to stare out the window.

Your accent sounds stupid, he muttered.

Im sorry, he whispered and stared down at his desk sadly. Did he really sound that weird? Where he used to live no one thought the same as this boy. He himself thought it was the people living around here who had a funny accent.

The had a weird tone in their voice when they spoke, a soft tone that made him want to laugh out loud. But his mother had told him that he mustnt laugh at another persons accent, they could get hurt or sad. So he held back his laughter and smiled instead. It wasnt nice to make anyone feel upset after all, he thought and sneaked a glance at the other boy.

He was still staring out the window absently. Maybe he was daydreaming about something fun.

Cant we play together today Samson? he begged and tugged at the boys sleeve. The boy named Samson, him with the glasses, stared at him with narrow eyes for a little while before brushing him his hand off. He stuffed his hands into his pockets.

No. I dont want you to come along when Im with my friends. They make fun of me because I play with you. They think you have the most stupid accent they ever heard, Samson said and the boy felt his heart pick up speed in his chest. This again? Why couldnt he ever come along to play with them all too? Was it just because he spoke the way he did?

Their mums hadnt taught them not to make fun of another person because of that. And he had thought all the time that it was the kind of thing mums were supposed to teach their children.

Sometimes it hurt that they pushed him away. But he did his best to be fun to play with, even if he didnt always like the things they did together. The other boys liked to make him do things they didnt want to do themselves. And he didnt want to say no.

They had always said he spoke oddly. He did still. But since this was the way his parents spoke there wasnt anything wrong about it, was there? As long as he could understand the boys and they could understand him it didnt matter, did it? He didnt understand.

Im leaving now, Samson said and walked away.

The boy waved his hand at his friend. HIs smile faded when he realized he was all alone in the playground. All the other children were elsewhere together having fun..together. Oh well, he would have to make his own fun then! That was what his mother always told him when he felt bored. If you were bored you could find something to entertain yourself. Sometimes he came up with funny games to make time pass. He hummed lowly to himself on a merry tune from a television show as he headed back home.

Mum? Can I stay home today? I dont feel so good, he asked weakly from his place underneath the covers.

Are you sick love? asked his mother in concern over her child.

My stomach hurts, he lied and closed his eyes.

All right then. Ill call and tell the teacher that youre staying home today, his mother smiled and pressed a kis to his forehead before turning off the lights.

The block of ice in his stomach was beginning to melt. He didnt think he had fooled her. Maybe she had sensed that he didnt want to go to school today without asking him. It was very hard to lie to her. She always figured it out. Sighing he buried his face in the pillow and hugged the teddybear closer to his chest.

The reason he didnt want to go to school today was that they were supposed to perform the plays they had made in groups. Samson was the leader of his group. The boy with the glasses was his friend, but he was still scared of him. He always got scared when samson gave him that cold look or grinned when he made him do something he was scared of. Like talking in front of a crowd. They always laughed at him. The others on his group had given him the part in the play where one had to talk the most.

He thought they had done it just to be mean to him. Besides, he always got so embarrassed when he had to talk in front of people. This voice became thin and squeaky and sometimes no sound would come out when he opened his mouth to talk. And it took nothing to make him blush. None of the other boys blushed as easily as he did. They used to tease and call him whimpy girl who cant talk. he could talk..Just not like them.

But they were his only friends after all. Rven if they treated him unfair he had no one else to turn to if he walked out on them. And even if samson treated him bad too he didnt let anyone hurt him or beat him. Samson had always looked after him. That must mean that they were friends right? Samson wouldnt look after someone he didnt like, would he? He smiled weakly to himself.

It had happened again. This was the second time he had run away. He just hadnt been able to take anymore and felt like a coward. The others were probably mad at him, he knew they must be. They had after all given him a bigger mission. Missions, thats what they called the things they made him do. In his eyes it was nothing more than force, forcing him to do things they didnt want to do themselves. Why was he such a coward? He wanted to raise his voice whenever they brought him a new mission and tell them that he didnt want to anymore.

But he could not. Couldnt say no when Samson arched one of his eyebrows in that meaningful way and stared quietly at him. Samson expected that he did as he was told. besides, when he got scared his voice became so weird. The boy with the glasses only had to stare at him to make his knees shake under thew eight of those blue eyes. They were so intense too, they always had been. At least for as long as they had been friends.

He wished they would stop imitating him each time he said something, that they would stop telling him that he couldnt speak properly. But he was too much of a coward. Instead he smiled carefully and laughed with them. Anything to make them pleased. As long as they were pleased they wouldnt hit him. If only he could make them smile they wouldnt look down on him or grin when he was about to open his mouth to talk- making him change his mind to lower his head and stare down at the ground. How many times had he not done that?

He had no one to go to if he left Samson. The others meant nothing to him, theyw ere just Samsons friends. But the boy with the glasses, he meant everything to him. He had kept the bullies away throughout the years even when he was somewhat a bully himself. It didnt happen often that Samson was kind to him..but it did happen a seldom time- every now and then. He could count those times on his left hand. But it made him happy to think about it. It also happened that he hated Samson, that he hated the lazy smirk and blue eyes.

He hated his parents more than anything. They had given him this accent, the accent that everyone liked to mock and make fun of by comparing it to their own. Only two days ago he had fought with his father again. The outcome had been bad on behalf of both of them and too many bitter words had been exchanged between father and son.

But he hated him. He hated them for deciding to move to this place. Maybe if they had stayed in their old place he would have some friends for real now. Friends that treated him better than the ones he had now. That was all he really wanted. A friend.

Was that so much too ask for? He couldnt understand that it would be. He had nowhere to go anymore. Had he ever had?

Samson..Cant I be with you today? Please, its been so long since just the two of us were together, he begged intently. He silenced when the other boy turned his head to the side to stare at him from his place on the grass. His glasses were sitting loosely on his nose and he pushed them back up. Intyense, blue eyes sparkled behind the glass. The boy felt knots appear in his stomach.

He dearly hoped Samson would say yes this time. Just this once.

It is just the two of us now stupid and you say its been ages? said the boy with the glasses and arched an eyebrow in question at him. The knots worsened in his stomach.

Please? Samson..., he begged again.

Dont say my name that way. You know I despise your accent, the other pointed out sharply.

Im sorry...I just want to be with you, he muttered.

You sound so desperate. Am I really that fun to be with? asked the boy with the glasses and rolled over onto his stomach to be able to watch him when he spoke.

I..I dont know.., he lied. To answer yes would be a lie. It wasnt because it was fun that he had asked. It was because he was the only person left for him to ask. The only one who bothered to hang out with him without being forced to. Why couldnt he be perfect so Samson would like him back?

If he hadnt been such a coward or stammered as much as he did. If he hadnt talked the way he did- would Samson have liked him better? He didnt know. It was never easy to know what was going through the other boys head.

You dont know...I think you are lying. You hate me- just admit it, he said lowly.

What do you mean? asked the boy puzzled. It was true..But how did the other know? But he couldnt only feel hatred towards the other. Because he was fond of him too.

I think you know very well. Or have you really become that stupid now? Youve always been stupid, Samson said in that same low voice.

Sorry..I just want you to like me, he whispered bitterly and turned his head away so the boy wearing glasses wouldnt see the tears brimming in his eyes. It was so hard to hold them back. But if he started crying now, what would the other think of him then? Surely nothing good. He didnt want to cry in front of him, not now, not ever.

I have always liked you, Samson said from beside him.

But...You always said you hated my accent and that I am a whimpy brat, he mumbled. His heart was picking up speed now. He was confused, more confused than he ahd ever been before.

You ARE a wimp. And I do really hate your accent, it sounds terrible. Look at me, he ordered.

The boy rolled oevr to lie on his side, tears still visible in his eyes. They stared at each other for a little while before Samson raised a hand to his face and removed the glasses to leave them lying on the grass on his left. He didnt understand what was going on. In the next moment a weight was pressing him down into the soft, green grass. he stared up at the other boy with eyes wide as plates. A lump in his throat made it impossible to even speak now. But he hadnt needed to say anything after all.

He closed his eyes when a pair of warm lips were pressed to his own. A kiss. A million different thoughts were racing through his head faster than the oncoming express train and hesitantly he returned his first kiss. It was odd really. He always thought the first person he kissed would be a girl. But then and there it made no difference. He would rather have samson kissing him than any girl in the whole world. Even if samson hated so many things about him.

The warmth withdrew, though he was still trapped underneath the other. When the boy opened his eyes he stared into that pair of brilliant blue ones. They were so much prettier when they weren not hid behind glasses. Even so he hated them with all of his heart while admiring them.

You can come with me home today, Samson said and removed himself. He stare din mild wondering at the boy now without his glasses. Samson picked up his glasses and pushed them back onto his nose where they belonged.

Thank you, he smiled and grasped the hand that was extended to him.

Maybe he shouldnt hate his parents that much after all. Everything had started after they moved here, had it not? Maybe if he had stayed in the same place as before he would have played football with his friends, gone to parties and kissed his first girlfriend long time ago. But he wouldnt have the same butterflies in his stomach that he was having now as he looked down at their linked hands.

He hated him, he really did. Samson was the cause of all his problems, it was he who(with or without meaning so) had pulled the strings and gotten him into so much trouble. But maybe it was true that the line between hatred and love was thin. Maybe the sleeping butterfly could still free itself and flap its wings for the first time in the open air. But only maybe.

-end-