Mine

7.

Flashback - Age 12

A loud laugh escaped your mouth as you balanced along the side walk down the old pathway to the park; a popular hangout for you and kids your age. The sun was starting to set, indicating a late afternoon, and Light agreed to go on the swings with you. You didn't get to admire the beautiful scenery though; the way orange stained every surface, you were too young to truly admire that. Instead, your eyes stayed glued to the bumpy ridge that you tightrope along, your tongue out of your mouth. 

"Be careful," Light said in a teasing tone as you kicked your shoe on a raised bit of cement. You squealed as you tried to regain your balance. Just as you were tilting to the side, Light's hand reached out and gripped your yellow jacket, stabilising you. 

You were just about to thank him for saving you from falling when your eyes found a bright blue butterfly nestled on the grass nearby. You jumped down, ripping out of Light's hold, and crept over to the butterfly, watching with wild, curious eyes as its wings fluttered open and shut. 

"Light," you whispered in a high pitched tone, barely able to control your excitement. Eventually, you were crouched down right in front of it, your hands twitching as you gently reached out and scooped it into your hands. It crawled onto your finger without hesitation, and your smile grew so big.

"That's very pretty Y/n," Light said over your shoulder, and you stood up to give him a better look. You showed him your cupped hands, watching as it retook its perched position on your finger. 

"Its wing is broken," he commented, and you frowned at him. His finger reached down and pointed to a long, thin rip in its right-wing, and you gasped, your eyes flitting to his. 

"Let's take it somewhere," you suggested, bringing it closer to your chest in an attempt to comfort it. Light shook his head, placing a hand on your shoulder. You blushed. 

"Butterflies only live for a few days anyway, Y/n. The best thing we can do is take her to heaven," his voice was kind, but his words were malicious. You whimpered at him. 

"No, Light. I'll take her home and make a house for her on my desk. She can live there until she passes away peacefully," you argued, turning your heel and heading back in the direction of your house. You had forgotten all about the swings, and the tightroping. 

"She's in pain, you're hurting her by keeping her alive," he called out from behind you, and you stopped walking. You looked down at the butterfly, and wondered if she really was in pain. Was that why she climbed onto your finger so easily? Because she wants to be put out of her misery?

You felt a tear slip down your cheek and trail to your upper lip as Light's shoes crunched on the dead leaves toward you. He appeared in front of you and wiped the wetness away with his long-sleeved shirt, making you look at him. Light's face was sad, and you were glad he was upset too. You handed him the butterfly. 

"We can have a proper burial," he said quietly, leading you off the path deeper into the bush. You nodded and looked around for a lovely spot for her as Light stood close by, looking for something on the ground. You used a stick to dig the ground up and plucked some small pretty flowers from nearby, propping them up around the small grave. 

"Okay, are you ready?" He asked, and you stood up, wiping your hands on your jeans. Light squatted down and placed the wounded butterfly on a large flat rock, then picked up a stone that he had to use two hands to carry. You watched silently as he towered over the butterfly and raised the rock above his head.