A/N: Imagination gone wild. Anyways. This for you, Arsa Stanleia. Your requested fanfic, thank you again for reviewing Lettuces and Mignonettes. Its not much, though I hope it reaches your satisfactory appetite. :D

30.11.13

12.09 AM

|If Ayato is really God then Yuri has lost the battle she longed and prepared for. |

/g u i l t /

Win and die or lose and die. Only seemed like two choices with contradictions that stirs confusion in everyone's heart, if they were ever presented the ability to choose.

And if Yuri was able to pick, she'd obviously—of course—pick the first one. [And] If ever it was a losing battle, she wouldn't go down without swinging; because Yuri doesn't want the same consequences to happen. (ever again)

But, it seemed that no matter what path she chose or choices she picks it always leads to one ending, one conclusion.

And it's never a pretty conclusion. Never neat, clean and no scratches—always bloody and messy, leaving everything around her and the ones she loves:

Torn and broken.

Yuri swallows the blood in her throat and regrets.

/G o d h a s b e e n c h o s e n/

Ayato smiled with triumph and looks down at Yuri's form with nothing more but joy clouding his gold eyes. 'You should have known better than to rebel against God'

And if Yuri had the strength to do so, she would laugh out her lungs at such absurdity. Throwing her head back and exposing her neck to danger, she would laugh until her throat aches (and bleeds), until her vision blurs and her eyes sting badly. Until her also absurd laugh turn into cries of her heart.

Echoing and resounded in her shaded memories.

Because—she laughs louder—because if he is really God, then—though her vocal cords bounced and it ended up more of a choked cry—they have lost. She has lost to him. And it wasn't much of fight.

Though Yuri knows that she knows better, he is not God. And and and…Yuri's belief flies out of her chest and is caught in the web of blood in her throat.

The moment she looks at him out of the corner of her eyes and finds that the way that Ayato's gold oculi shines; looking straight at hers in such distance: is too close for comfort.

/ h e a r t/

In some other time, place, era, universe. Yuri is a disenchanted queen with her atrocious past that has caused her a lot of episodes. Ayato on the other hand is a psychiatric renowned with his hypnotizing golden specked eyes and was decidedly hired by Yuri's closest advisor.

Ayato snaps his fingers and Yuri eyes slips half close and as vertigo clouds her head, she is caught by a hand holding her wrist and shoulder. A slight tinge of déjà vu.

His hands felt light, as if ghosting around her wrist and shoulder, Yuri falls into a deep slumber, his face looking down at her and his heart beating near her. The last thing she sees and hears.

But in their current time; he is never so kind in handling—if that's even the right term—her.

He clutches her wrist, hard enough to leave bruises; he grips her shoulder, tight enough making her attempts to break free futile.

Ayato smiles victoriously down at her (and Yuri is not sure of what she sees, but there something distant hidden in his features), pulling her closer to him—for the deadly kill. And Yuri thinks—slightly amused—that there is a feel déjà vu again in this.

And so she struggles again, thinking: that was then and this is now. Ayato puts pressure in his grip and steadies Yuri, pulls her closer so he could whispers his poisonous mantras and sends her away into her rightful slumber.

Nearer, towards him, so she could hear it clearly (the clearer the more deadly). Ayato tugs. Until, until until—the half of Yuri's back is pressed against his chest.

And he could feel her heart beating against his chest. (in sync pattern with the pattering rain)

A/N: Run, amok your imaginations must! R & R. Request are also accepted.