PART TWO.

It's of Amsterdam that Taehyung's best work lies in. It's simple matter and the sentences are shorter than usual but he always finds himself coming back to the words of his first time here. How filled of wonder and dazzle they still remained after such a long time.

This time, he stops just for a couple hours before he catches the train to Berlin. He settles for the train station square that is closely bathed by the creek of the river, there's a small coffee shop, hidden between two old buildings of a squeezed-in street. It's on the third floor and the big window from the left side allows the sight of the city to sweep in the glass, in all its golden sunsetting glory.

He sits next to the big window, something sweet on his plate and a cup of chamomile tea. Small boats pass by the calm river waters, mooring nearby the dock.

It's mid-April and the flowers start to blossom, Taehyung can tell by the vivid red and pink of the tulips blooming freshly all through the small flower beds you can still catch around the well-hidden streets.

They remind him of that time he visited the Keukenhof, those fields spreading on end through plains painted in delicate brushes of every color shining under the blushed-tone sunlight. Where no petal of the ficklest of the flowers was the same as the next and they were all drawn in gild.

Back home, there's a saying 'butterflies come to pretty flowers' and, Taehyung wonders if dreaming of becoming a butterfly and visiting every single flower was as delightful as the thought of dreaming itself. It was an arduous progress, he knows it. From the very start of coming out of the shell, abandoning everything that was once all he knew, to the long path of hardships and failures that comes with surviving on his own to persist and keep going until he bursts into color and learns how to fly.

He supposes he would fall a couple times before getting the hang of it and the journey from flower to flower, from tulip to rose, would still be challenging but the mere thought of being able to spread his wings, strong and beautiful on their own, even for just a couple seconds has him already thrilled with the idea.

So, when he grabs one of the postcards the café had on disposal, on his way out, he quickly scribbles his wish,

to, one day, become a butterfly and go back to the pretty flowers.