"I don't love you."

A small white petal fell down from his lips. Ayato took a convulsive gulp of air. How painful it was for him right now.

He fell on the cold sand. His blue hair flew around his head in a short, tousled fan. His sharp adam's apple quivered with each sharp intake of breath.

A shadow rose above his figure and he turned his head painfully when he saw her. {{user}} stood in front of him, fearfully examining his bloody shirt and gardenia petals on the sand.