Uguu~

:3 I lurves this fanfiction! It's so yummyful.

I AM making a sequel. 3 and a sequel to that. So, yus. BE ON ZE LOOKOUT!

DISCLAIMER: Loveless does not belong to me. If it did, there would be much more SouXRit-chan. x3

*~*Snow*~*

There he lay, embraced by the wonderfully cold snow. It was like a pillow, a mattress. A fluffy cover that slowly –but, surely– began to cover him. A purple gaze slowly followed a snowflake, falling from the wide firmament above. As soon as it touched his hand, it disappeared and was no more. Ritsuka's mind chuckled at the irony. Maybe he too would be like that. Here one moment, gone the next.

His mother's beatings had been merciless this time. Everything was painful. Moving and breathing caused him agony – blinking even. He refused to move from the lawn, this would be his deathbed, if that's what it came down to. So be it. Maybe death would bring relief to his aching limbs. His body sighed involuntarily, causing him to whimper in pain. Ritsuka winced as his blood-encrusted throat vibrated with the sound. The violet-eyed Sacrifice settled down again and let his mind wander.

His pictures would forever keep his memories. Suddenly, he saw a downfall to his method of making memories. A flaw to his ingenious plan of burning images by pixels onto paper. No pixels could capture Yuiko's trilling laugh whenever he smiled. No pixels could capture the mischievousness in Youji's voice, or the kindness in Natsuo's. They couldn't capture Yayoi's comical manner of speaking when courting with Yuiko. And, most of all, they couldn't capture the warmth of Soubi's arms. They couldn't capture the lovely tone of his voice whenever he casted his poetic spells. No pixels could EVER hope to capture all of that.

He had originally thought that taking pictures as memories would help him once the 'real' Ritsuka came back. Maybe the 'real' Ritsuka would be human enough to look over his pictures. Maybe he would take a little time go over the pictures that made up the time of his longed absence – the friends that had been made during the time he wasn't there. Maybe the 'real' Ritsuka would care enough to know the person that was there in his absence. Maybe.

This and much more ran through the young boy's head and soon it began to throb incessantly. With each dull heart beat, a new wave of pain wracked his body. Closing his eyes, Ritsuka succumbed to the darkness of his mind. The dark was comforting, in comparison to the bright white snow. As his breathing became shallow, he concentrated on the warm unfeeling sensation at his extremities. Finally, he released his last breath. The cold turned to a warm numbness. But soon he felt a different type of warmth. Compared to the other heat, his was like a burning fire. It was almost uncomfortable. He contorted his face in anguish. Let me sleep. He thought. Yes, sleep was a good word to use. Eternal sleep and rest. But he soon grew used to the dark fire. He found enough strength to move his fingers and sound a fluffy patch of cloth. And what came next was even more unexpected.

He felt himself being carried by a running figure. But it wasn't him that was being carried, of so he felt. It was like an out of body experience. Someone was holding him close, but it wasn't him. The very concept caused a fresh wave of confusion to thrash about in his head. He abruptly felt a burning pain in his chest. He managed to find enough strength to part his lips and took in a ragged breath. The air burned his throat, but, the pain set aside, it felt good. He finally began to feel the familiar bouncing motion of someone running. Somewhere in the pits of his mind, he realized this and groaned inwardly. Who was disturbing him from his eternal rest? Up until now, all his senses had been shut off, but his sense of touch was suddenly sharper than ever. The contact made with his skin made him wasn't to moan in agony, but he could not bring himself to do it. Slowly, his sense of taste came back and he noticed the vague taste of blood in his mouth.

As soon as the bouncing had started, it ended. Now, instead of some support being on his legs and back, it was evenly distributed throughout his whole body. Ritsuka's hearing came back next. A very faint string of noise made its way into his consciousness. He couldn't quite make out any words, but something was being repeated. Over and over, two syllables. They would break at one point, too. Again, and again. By what, though? A sob? Upon paying closer attention to the words, he realized what they were. It was his name, over, and over again. They were being spoken by a deep, alluring voice. But the voice was broken, and vulnerable. It was Soubi.

"Are you sure he's not dead already? Look at how pale he is. Be rational!" A hoarse voice complained. It was also familiar. Youji. "Youji! Don't say that! You'll hurt his feelings!" Natsuo, of course. "Shut up, you two." A hiss that was almost unrecognizable. But, Ritsuka knew very well who it was.

"S-So… Soubi…?" he managed to stutter out. He heard the sudden shifting of cloth. Soubi must have jerked his head to look at him.

"Ritsuka, Ritsuka! You're all right!" he stammered anxiously. The faint sound of someone tripping caught Ritsuka's attention, and Youji's inquisition as to what he had done proved his suspicions. Natsuo must have elbowed Youji in the ribs causing him to stumble.

His sight came last. The boy opened his eyes slowly to find a bright light hovering over him, but something was partially blocking it. A blonde figure, divine. A chuckle shook Ritsuka's body. "You look like an angel, Soubi."

"He's definitely out of it. Poor kid. Who knows how bad he was beaten. Maybe it affected his head or something. Soubi looks NOTHING like an angel right now." Youji murmured again. "Youji!" Natsuo intervened.