...Once again, I have managed to produce a one-shot while neglecting my other stories. Brilliant.

Alas, I had to get this one out of my head. Hmm... looks... drabble-ish... oh well xD I'm sick, so excuse my mistakes, repetitive-ness and crabby ending =3

...Wow! I could have called this story 'The Death and the Strawberry'! But that would've been some form of plagiarism (Bleach xD)
I honestly have no idea why I wrote a summary like that, nor why I wrote 'Remembering a Butterfly' for the title.

OH WELL xD
I'm so dizzy T.T

...On with the story...?

And yes, it's another tragedy. Teehehe =P


It was the day after their wedding when my brother disappeared.

I remember it clearly; the sun, shimmering through the trees, the lake glistening gold. The trees that swayed in the gentle breeze. The lush grass that seemed endlessly green. The sweet honey scent that hung in the air, the smell of fresh flowers. The cloudless sky. It was just beautiful. Wonderful. Perfect.

Wrong.

I remember watching along with the other guests, a stirring feeling in my heart. They were coming out soon, the bride and groom. Everyone was happy. They were laughing, excited, anxious about what was to come. My heart thundered in my chest, my eyes feeling hot and moist. My mind was fighting against it all.

No, it said, this isn't how it is supposed to end. She was supposed to choose – choose with her heart. This isn't how it's supposed to be.

But yet I smiled, glancing nervously at the red aisle placed before me. It was almost time. Silence took hold of the crowd, bringing us to our feet. At the front I could see the blonde man stand triumphantly, a princely grin erupting from his flawless features. Oh how I wished I could rub that smug smile from his pretty face. My eyes flickered to the garden behind us as my heart came to a sudden halt.

In came a young girl, her short brown hair bouncing as she walked. From a silver basket she threw pink and white petals. She smiled at the crowd. We smiled back.

And then she came.

She – a stunning young woman, golden eyes sparkling with happiness – strode proudly down the aisle, her bright pink hair dancing in the summer breeze. She was smiling and blushing. She was proud to be married, proud to be Hotori's wife. The trails of her snow white gown fluttered as she walked. Her smooth arm was grasping her father's, his own honey eyes shimmering with emotion. Behind her was that small blonde girl in white, her brown eyes flicking disapprovingly at the guests, but a small smile plastered to her face. The young girl beamed at me, and I smiled back. The guests around me watched the pink-haired girl in awe. She was beautiful.

The short blonde lifted the woman's dress, and a hand reached out to grab the woman's slender hand. Soft red orbs met her own, ushering her to come. A wave of nausea rushed through me and I swayed in my stance.

It was all wrong.

But yet I smiled onwards.

She took his hands with her own, holding them as the two faced each other. I could see tears in her father's eyes, him brushing them away roughly with a black sleeve. The ceremony began.

I remember the priest beginning to wed them.

I remember the feeling of stabbing pain in my chest throughout it all.

I remember asking, asking those questions to myself. All those questions that began with two words.

"I do."

She said them loud, she said it with happiness. Was it real? I didn't know. But he, he had yet to appear. He who had yet to save her from it all. Why wasn't he here? And then I saw the answer in her eyes. The answer that sparked such emotions that flashed through her eyes as she raised her head, raised them towards the lake.

She was no longer smiling. In a moment all the pride that she had once held was gone. She looked guilty. She was ashamed. Fear played in her eyes, like a child's would when they were in trouble. I watched her every move, watched her sway just like how I did only moments before, watched her eyes swell with sorrowful tears. Watched her regret. I followed her gaze, followed it across the lake.

To where he stood.

His midnight hair fluttered in the sifting air, flashing a clear blue. His black clothes shifted from the still, his pale face watching. Staring. Eyes like sapphires locking her golden orbs in their gaze. I could only watch, watch the price that she was paying. The world seemed to come to a halt. It was just them. The faces of a guilty woman and a betrayed man met each other, and a single tear slid a lonesome descent down her powdered cheek.

She had not told him.f

Anguish was painted across his face; such pain was held in his blue orbs. He just looked on for eternity, my heart thudded with each heavy second. Only then, when his back turned, did I realize what I had really seen.

My brother's heart – broken by a single moment. A moment that I will never forget.

He had given her his all, given all the love he could muster from his empty soul. He had teased her, been her friend, been the one she confided in on those lonely nights, been the one she had huddled close to when a storm raged outside. She, blinded by her infatuation with the blonde man that now stood before me, ignored such love and adoration. Only seen her prince. He had loved her nevertheless. He would return to her, no matter how many times she pushed him away. Always there for her. Protecting, guarding, watching out for her.

And so he left. Never to be seen from again.

I remember watching her that day, as she slid to her knees, collapsing in tears and sorrow. The guests stood up, rushed towards her. Brought her to her feet. The groom, his red eyes watching hers in confusion, unsure of what to do. Me, standing, a feeling of anger and hurt bubbling away in side of me. The perfect day was ruined. She was rushed home; she needed to recover from the shock of being married. It rained that night, rained hard. A storm lashed out upon our city, the biggest in over a century. There was no one to comfort her, no one to hold her hand. She was alone.

She often confided in me, that broken girl. I watched as she battled with herself, her broken heart fighting against desperate mind. She told me she loved him, loved the blonde, loved her husband for his kindness, generosity and love. Then she would weep, breaking down in an uncontrollable fit of tears. And I would not comfort her. I could only watch.

The visits to her house became less frequent over time, days becoming weeks, weeks becoming months, months becoming years.

A year. That's all it took.

Exactly one year from the wedding did it take for them to come knocking on my door.

They had found him, lying on the bottom of the harbor. His blue hair, an abnormality they said. They had carried his cold, lifeless body onto the bank, tried to start his heart. A year, they told me, a year he had been under. For a year he had been lying there, gone from the world. His blue eyes, the life gone from them.

My brother was dead.

It was after the funeral she told me. Walking up to the coffin of which he lay, she reached out two pale fingers, stroking his cheek. I watched as her eyes filled with tears, and suddenly she fled from the warm room into the rain.

The rain.

I followed daintily after her, careful not to lose sight of her bright pink hair. And there she was – standing on the edge of lake, watching the rain patter into the dull water, tears cascading down her cheeks. I approached her. I sat. I remember anxiously picking at the wet grass, the silence ticking by. Then she spoke.

"He came to see me, you know," she whispered, settling on the patch of lawn next to me, expression unreadable. "He came to see me after the wedding."

My heart pounded in my chest, yet I continued to stare blankly at the green below me. She continued.

"I was out looking for him. I couldn't bear to see him like that, as if his heart... his heart..." She swallowed back tears. " – as if his heart had broken. I needed to see him, tell him I was sorry, and that I really, truly wanted to tell him before... but couldn't find the right time..."

She looked at me, a small smile gracing her features.

"He met me in the darkness, just before the storm. He asked me if I loved him... if I thought the marriage was a mistake."

I turned my head to face hers, eyeing her swimming pools of gold warily. I did not utter a word. Just watched.

"Do you know what I told? What I told him that night? I told him that I didn't love him, that I'd never seen him in that light. I lied to him, I lied to his face." Her thickly lined mascara was sliding down her face now, she making no attempt to stop it. Then she collapsed on me, her thin arms pulling me close. I didn't move.

"Oh, you should have seen his face! His eyes... his beautiful eyes. Never... in my life... what have I done?!" She was hysterical now, sobbing unshed tears onto my lap. I stroked her hair, my heart still racing. My brother – gone, because of her.

"He's gone, he's not coming back. I lied to him, I betrayed him. I broke his heart, I denied his love. I was so stupid, so naïve... why didn't I stop him? Why didn't I just grab him, why didn't I tell him? He found out... found out about us... his heart, his poor, broken heart. How could I... why didn't I... I loved him! I loved him dammit! And I didn't tell him, never said it to his face. I didn't know... didn't know I wouldn't... couldn't ever..."

I remember sitting there, a burning sensation in my heart as she cried through the night. It was almost midnight when she dragged her sodden body into my car, tears still dripping from her eyes. We did not speak a word that night. It was just me, her, and the banging of our hearts.

Their marriage did not last. It was spring when she returned to me, collapsing on my doorstep. She cried for weeks, months even. After that everything became silent.

I had never heard her talk since.

Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can see his face, his dead blue eyes. He whispers things, his mouth barely moving. Time and time again have I awoke; sweat dripping from my pores, my mind drifting back to that day.

I can see him now – holding his poor broken love, clutching her to his chest. She treated him like he was nothing, used him up and threw him away. Did she realize? No, I think not. She didn't know what she had done, did not recognize that feeling in her chest. Infatuated with another man, the blonde boy who lived down the road. She was blinded. She didn't know.

She did not understand until it was all too late.

Because I remembered it all. Remembered her smile, her delicate pink hair. I remembered his smirk, his Chesire-like grin. I remembered how her eyes would light up unknowingly at his name, how she would blush at the very thought. He would comfort her, hold her in his arms, tell her everything was alright. She would hug him close, and he would whisper sweet nothing into her ear.

I didn't know it at first, that my brother had fallen in love.

And then he smiled at her. It was the day when she came over to our house, grinning from ear to ear. She was going to America, she said, on a scholarship. She then turned to him, a dark crimson blush on her untainted cheeks.

"Do you want to come with me?"

With those words I saw his face shine with happiness, a smile breaking over his features. I saw him lean forward, his eyes dancing as he whispered he would love to. I saw her move closer, her nose brushing with his. They were close, too close for comfort. I had to stop it. But then he pulled away and ruffled her hair, the stupid grin still plastered on his face.

I was jealous at first, angry even. But then I knew I had to let him go. He deserved to be happy. But only if I had known the cruel truth, that a certain blonde boy with ruby red eyes would soon ruin it all.

My brother had fallen for something he could not have.

They're both gone, now, swallowed by darkness and eternal sleep. She didn't last long, that young woman, her sorrowful heart eating away at her body, the guilt consuming her whole.

I visited her a few days before her passing. Her once shining cotton hair had become dull and lifeless. Her golden eyes swam with sorrow, her face gaunt and pale. She was sitting in an old wooden chair and her hands clasped onto a small frame. She didn't seem to recognize me as I sat next to her, she giving a soft smile before returning to the picture.

Him and her, side by side, at the amusement park that was. She was smiling, arms wrapped around his shoulders. He looked bored, but I could see the happiness. The happiness that he had hidden so well.

I had left without a word that day, bowing as I left her small cottage.

It was then, I knew, that I was truly alone.

A butterfly – nothing more, nothing less – free to roam the world as she pleased.

Listening.

Watching.

Waiting for the moment that she would wake up, and for the nightmare to be over.

Never forgetting the day it began.

The day when my brother disappeared.


...And once again Ikuto commits suicide =D Hurrah! ...Don't look at me like that =.= I'm sick of Amu killing herself, y'all hear?

I was actually going to write 4 different POVs for the event, but I decided on just having Ms. Butterfly (you know who I'm talking about xP)

She's always a butterfly, isn't she? Just like 'prince', 'strawberry' and 'cat' ^^

Oh well, they all sound very poetic =3

DID YOU KNOW TIM BURTON'S MAKING AN 'ALICE IN WONDERLAND' MOVIE?!
I'm so happy xD Johnny Depp's gonna be the Mad Hatter. BOHAHAHAHA.
Tim Burton + Alice in Wonderland = awesome freakishness

Oh hey - I just managed to write a whole story with only one name mentioned.

SCORE!

Review please =D