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᯽Capítulo 18⊰᯽
᯽⊱❈═ A U D R A ═❈⊰᯽
It wants me well, it wants me badly, it wants me well, it wants me badly...
That's what that poor flower was being asked as the burgundy-haired one plucked a petal, and then another and another, without even knowing the purpose or reason for it.
"This is stupid! Why do people do that?" he couldn't help but show immense indignation as he got up off the ground with everything "how would a flower determine that? How would I prefer i-..." only one petal was missing, one just after a 'barely me that. ' "silly thing..." he plucked the last one, thus blushing and hiding his face with one hand.
It was extremely ridiculous that something like happiness was filling him at that moment, all because of a petal that was like a premeditated bet, or at least one that seemed very premeditated.
No, it wasn't premeditated...
Almost nothing was, destiny was something abstract but at the same time something that made too much sense.
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