Headphone does not own this either. (I own the story though. so you'd better not steal it.)
Painting pretty patterns with your blood.
Isn't the world such a lovely contradiction? It is, and I bet its spite has affected you, at least once. Though I wouldn't know. You never talk to me. It's like a one-sided love, me always chasing you, and you never even turning around to see my annoying self cooing over your cool silent exterior. Oh, how elegant you are, always standing there, hands bound at the wrist, and your blue hair flowing over your face, as soft and simple as it looks. Your name perfectly describes you, Regal. You are as beautiful as I would believe, even if others would call you tough and burly. I can see your inner beauty, the kind that isn't skin-deep.
This is like the saying 'love is blind', it's a beautiful contradiction, it is, and I believe that this is what has bound my eyes to you for such a long time. I can't understand what it is about you that attracts me so much, as I am much more turned on by the lovely damsels that await for me in the capitol, but you, you're the convict, the dirty murderer, and yet, I fell for you. And I fell hard, from sky high to the ground, the impact hitting me like a bulldozer to a house, support crushing and limbs failing. I hate the words 'I love you', since they seem cliché, and I am not one to be cheeky, so instead, when you see me, I'll tell you every ounce of these words.
When did I fall for you, you might ask. It was at my traitorous acts, in the Tower of Salvation, almost an ironic battle field, huh? The night before, I saw you talking to Lloyd, and I was jealous, but not of you, of him. I wanted to be there to be next to you, and hold your hand and pour out all of my words in a river. It was such a sudden switch that it made me sick. When I watched you tell Lloyd to go on ahead, I got sick, and decided to step up and help you, calling away the angels with my authority. It was a priceless look on your face, seeing it distort from that of a depressed variety, to one of the grateful. I think you wanted to die, and that was your death wish, and I apologize, but I couldn't help it. I needed to stand next to you. I hated it, it was like I was almost forcing myself to like you, and I wanted to stop, but it was like every time I saw you, I wanted to like you more.
I greatly dislike forced relationships.
I can't believe I tried helping you, but then again, I can't believe I tried helping anyone. I guess that was just destined to be the day I realized my purpose too late. My blood was everywhere, and the culprit, Mithos, was devastated at the sudden loss, but not as much as everyone else.
"Zelos! Watch out!" There was a shriek, only too late, and I couldn't tell if the tear in the silence was male or female. It was too painful to examine, but I wanted to assume it was yours, as that disgusting, rushed voice in the back of my mind told me it was.
The hole in my stomach burned, and I could feel the tissue around the cut sizzle under the cold air. I passed out, or so I liked to believe in my unconscious thought, but I assumed I was still alive, as seemingly moments later, I was in a hospital, seeing everything through blurry eyes.
The moments were so quick I wanted to die, because I had no control over times speed. It was bright in that room, and I couldn't see anyone in sight, and I wanted to cry, since I knew that no one would want to see a traitor like me. I heard ruckus from outside, and I wanted to believe it was you, but I knew better from the innocently boyish voice that it was actually Aurion's son.
"—Los! How are you?" Brown eyes asked me, and I couldn't help but hate them, even if I was supposed to be their best friend.
"I'm okay, just a little," I took in a breather, my head feeling light at the sudden realization that I had to actually think to talk. ", Just a little light headed." Lloyd looked at me concerned, but obviously didn't care too much about my actual health, as he hugged my neck firmly, saying how he was worried about me, and how the doctor didn't let him see me.
I wanted to punch him.
Sooner or later, everyone was in the white room, turning it into the local chatter box, and when you came to ask me how I felt, that stupid rushed voice in the back of my mind came back. I told you almost exactly how I felt, and when you were actually having a conversation with me, I tried hinting at every single line in the book to say 'I like you'.
But I didn't have to say a thing, as you were the first to make a move, a thank you hug when no one was looking, and I was surprised I didn't flinch. I hate flinching, it shows that I don't appreciate a touch. My blood on that day, that fateful day that we all thought we would die. One week and three days ago, that day was the day I guess that we both fell for each other, and fell hard, as my blood was proof enough, the scarlet liquid being painted on the walls in pretty patterns.