"Ritsuka, I'm so sick of all this. All these stupid, ignorant people, and all of the rules. All of the limits. I wish you hadn't died."1
Soubi's eleven year-old face was soft, yet expressionless. He reached into the box behind him, pulling out a blue butterfly with a slip of paper nailed into one of the wings. The only think he had left of Ritsuka. There was a single, crimson word inscriped on the paper.2
-Beloved-3
Soubi had always wondered what that meant...
Another Sorta Fanfic by me!!
Comments
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what?? hehe... my knowledge is incomplete when it comes to this kinda stuff. i really love it though! write MOOOOORRRREEEE!!! me want. *pout*
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