I could feel myself leaning against you, my cheek resting on your thick-headed skull. Your eyes instantly turned to me, snapping you out of whatever memory you had lodged in your overly complicated skull. You jumped slightly at the pressure, but in that same moment, you relaxed, the tension coming away from your muscles. You turned back then, the folds of my jacket covering your once shaking frame. I couldn't help but catch a brief, comforted smile on your face. And suddenly, your empty face brightened.

"Are you okay?" you asked me.

"What with the sorry way you've been acting," I say slowly, "you're everything but."

Memories are so annoying.

With you, they always slink into your mind, one after the other, without any regard for the hopes you've carried, the contempt you used to believe. They've also had a funny way of crashing down on you, with the same, shattering fragments piercing through the moments you were in. It's disgusting, so much so that in fact, that once they arrive, you know that it's already too late to rectify whatever crime you've committed.

No matter how many times you've tried pushing them under, or how long you've kept up your facade, in the end, those sickening memories were always there, beckoning you along from the darkest corners of your mind. The fake smiles you've given me, the conceited kisses that fell from your lips, that crumbling independence that protected your naive emotions, everything that ever mattered to you; those memories still haunted you.

And I hated them.

I hated the way they made you.

And even now, when you've probably forgotten everything, when you haven't even begun to understand the situation, those memories are weighing you down. Your heart might've broken whatever was left from the past, but in the end, somehow, you still remember them. The massacres you've caused, the fires you've instigated, the prejudice that followed you everywhere you went; you could recall some of it. To think of it like that, and even if you don't acknowledge it… I should know better; I was your Queen, after all.

That fateful evening, when you died, when crimson raced over your half-dead body, I could see myself standing there, with the gun in my hand. That cruel moonlight stood above you, with the ghostly pale illuminating every grotesque limb out of place. Shadows danced around you, as you clutched your sides painfully, biting down on your lips to keep yourself from screaming. Your eyes kept getting more and more chaotic, as you tried speaking out again and again, only to choke on crimson. It wasn't long before your gaze turned to me, the order not far from your lips.

I was shaking. The cold, frost-bitten air kept attacking my fingers, as if ice was forming around the trigger, not allowing me to escape through my own panic. The thorns latched to my throat drew from my neck, the withered petals neither enjoying nor blossoming at the sight of the violence in front of it. Raven strands callously drifted over my broken pupils, though I managed to focus on your equally broken body.

From a distance, I could hear footsteps, with eager voices accompanying them. And along with that, shocked howls, the seemingly piercing victory shouts resounding through the air. But as fast as they came, they vanished, replaced by a suspicious fear that followed the defeat of their once hated enemy.

And finally, you managed to open your eyes.

You looked up, and you smiled that same, haughty smile, the one when you knew you were going to win. Even if the methods weren't what you intended, you knew the consequences were going to be the same. There was nothing else you would do, except watch the folds of your own, marvelous work play out before you.

"You really are loyal, aren't you?" you said, just before I shot you.

I could feel your eyes widen at the sudden assessment. You tried scowling playfully, but even I could see the pain behind that smirk. You swatted my knee, before huffing and turning away. "I'm breathing, aren't I? And it's not like I'm some monster or anything."

I couldn't help but chuckle. "No, you're not."

"Ashes to ashes, and dust to dust." you retort.

The familiarity of those words touched my ears. I sighed softly, the nostalgia of that broken promise weighing at my brain. But even then, I kept that wintry night in my head, that haunting gunshot already ringing in my ears. Still, I couldn't help but smile.

How are you even here?

Right now, in front of me?

"Akiza," I suddenly call.

You shrugged your shoulders, as you try looking up, only for me to stop you. I could feel my arms come around you, carefully shielding you from whatever creatures you used to fear, creatures you found chasing you in your nightmares. "Stop thinking about stuff like that. It's only going to weigh you down."

She laughed emptily. "I can't help it. I'm a freak, remember?"

"Yeah, you are."

"Yusei, I get that you're trying to cheer me up, but-"

"Sorry. I'm just…having a really hard time thinking right now."

You fell silent. In that same instant, a frosty breeze crosses by us. I could feel the goosebumps on your arms, and though you start shivering again, you simply hid your discomfort behind a slight frown. You sighed then, before leaning against me. "Forget it," you whispered quietly. "It's been a long night."

"It has, hasn't it?" I close my eyes then. "Promise me something."

"I don't know," you reply sarcastically. "I'm not that good at keeping promises, remember?"

"Then keep this one; go back home, and sleep for a while."

You narrowed your eyes. "But what about-?"

"I'll take care of them," I reassure. "Besides, I doubt you actually killed them; they're probably just unconscious or something."

"How can you be so sure?"

I turn away. "You're too nice."