I wrote this fic a few months ago in Finnish. My very dear friend Khalko read it now and insisted that this have to be translated in English. So she did it and here it is. So tell me, was it worth of trouble. I hope that it was. :)

EDIT: I can't thank Sycocat2 too much. She helped to beta this and she has been a great motivator for me to write more. Thank you 3

Warnings: Mildly spoilers for chapter 102.

So cursive for Soubi and normal text for Ritsuka

Sometimes it felt like his childhood had been an absurd dream, time to time even a nightmare. Now, as a twenty four year old, Ritsuka dared to to think his twelve year old self as a child. After ten years he'd probably recall this moment too as a part of his childhood.

Even still his memories were filled with the pictures of his mother, who believed him to be an enemy, and of Seimei, whose love was always deceitful. He remembered the fights beside Soubi, and the shattering of his heart as Seimei had stolen him from his side. He fought to get Soubi back from Seimei. He didn't want Soubi to get hurt, and now understood that despite his name, Seimei was only capable of hurting others. Even so, like most of his battles, he lost. Both Seimei and Soubi were only memories to him, pictures on paper. While some photographs were older, others were comfortably fresh.

It was strange that he missed his past. At the time he had only wanted peace and a normal life. Now he had gotten it: a normal, lonely, and hated life. He went to study photography. What a ridiculous profession, which would also probably end in failure. Still, he graduated, and worked where he could find jobs. Ritsuka was a very popular wedding photographer, even though he despised weddings. Many told him that he had the most phenomenal skill of capturing love in a picture. Supposedly it was all logical. Loveless could see love all around him, without ever experiencing it himself. Still, the truth was that after work Ritsuka would return to his home alone. He would check that the door to his balcony was open for nothing, and would raise the heating of his house. The past would no longer climb in through his window.

Seimei would punish him tonight. Before the man was not able to physically resist the other, but these days it was easy. Their bond was so close to breaking.

"You no longer belong to Ritsuka. I forbid you to love him. Yes Soubi, that is an order. Don't ever again even think about him" Seimei's words had been clear-cut, yet still, for the first time in his life, Soubi didn't obey. On the days Seimei wasn't interested in him, he had a life. He carefully followed the boy. Ritsuka had always been forbidden from him; first he was so young that he couldn't have done anything even though he had the permission. He didn't give himself permission. Now he was banned but could not stay away. Ritsuka was the only person in Soubi's life that caused him to genuinely believe in his name- Beloved, the one being loved. How much he wished to be born carrying the name Loveless, then he could have lived with Ritsuka. Then there would have been a possibility that he could have a pleasant life.

Soubi was so proud of Ritsuka. He had grown into a fine man. Now he was here, watching the boy's first art exhibition. He knew that he only photographed people before. That's why he didn't wonder about the pictures of crowds or busy streets. In some way he even understood the pictures of the butterflies. They were basically of a person too, of Soubi himself. Ritsuka used to take pictures of his friends, but now only of crowds and butterflies.

He looked for the photograph. Finding the first one was the hardest. He would recognize Seimei's hair from the slightest thing. Next he found the first picture Ritsuka took of him. The photos were always so vague, if you weren't specifically trying to look for them, you weren't going to find a familiar person. The characters were never looking at the camera. It struck him as strange, because Soubi himself had always concentrated his gaze on Ritsuka.

A smile sneaked to his lips. He had always been so careful, and still Ritsuka had noticed, even made memories of him. The pictures were merely an invitation, a message: "I can see you and I still remember you when watching butterflies. You have no reason to stay away." For certain, Ritsuka had grown to be something great. Soubi knew that he couldn't answer the proposition, not for as long as he belonged to Seimei. Despite that, he couldn't help but buy one picture of the butterflies. He may hate the creatures, but not in the picture captured by Ritsuka; they looked stunning only in Ritsuka's pictures.

The first time was an accident. The picture in question was of Yuiko in a mall. From the background he had by chance spotted the familiar silhouette of Soubi. Over the years his past had reminded of itself ever faintly and unexpectedly. He treasured those pictures more than his life and sought settings where he would be easy to stalk. When he could be seen by anyone then it was easier for him to catch his pursuer on film. During these moments, Ritsuka didn't know who was hunting who. Seimei stalked him either to adore or to harm him, yet Soubi's reasons had always remained a mystery to him. Even so, as he developed the film, he felt his heart throbbing with excitement. Who would he find in his pictures today?

He knew that the pictures were only hope in vain, but still he clung to them, refusing to let go of his past. Sometimes Ritsuka feared to find his fighter, he didn't want to find the other and move on. New memories were not allowed to replace the old ones. Ritsuka knew already whom he wanted beside him, and that person was not just someone. For now, Ritsuka could only hunt his past in film. He examined his pictures and beckoned the man, whom he believed was the only one suitable to live beside him as Loveless.

Soubi felt the calling. With every fibre of his being he heard Ritsuka's voice. Now he just waited. As soon as he had the chance, even the tiniest chance, he would answer. For now though all he could do was listen to the call, wait for an opportunity, and paint butterflies.