Disclaimer: All appearing characters and places belong to Namco unless otherwise specified.

The O-dai themes belong to the Zeroshii-Wa, but it has closed down now. Ain't that so sad?

Setting: In-game.

Warnings: One-sided loves, might be Zelos-centric, general angstiness.

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Dark Version,

#1 – Tragic Love

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It was not that he didn't want to tell her.

Every time they were together, just the two of them, every time she asked him whether he was alright after a battle, every time she actually laughed at one of his jokes, every time he saw her looking at the brown haired leader of the group, hoping he'd turn around and smile, all those times he'd wanted to tell her.

"Hey," he'd say – and it wouldn't sound nice. It'd be gruff, aggressive, territorial even. "Hey. Look at me. Look at me! I promise I'll look at you, too. Only at you."

But she'd get angry, that much he knew. She wouldn't appreciate being talked to like that; as if she was someone who could be ordered around.

So he never did tell her. It was not that he didn't want to; it's just that he didn't know how. Because she, unlike all the girls he'd known, she was real, and honest, and sincere, and he thought that what he felt for her was real, honest and sincere.

So every time they were together, just the two of them, every time he saw her looking at that other man, he wanted to tell her –

Everything

What he thought of her

What he thought of himself

What he had gone through in the past

What he was going through now.

He wanted to ask her to be with him, as more than just friends. He wanted to ask her to hold him in her arms and just be for him what no woman had ever been before...

But he had never felt like that before nor had he ever thought things like that before, so he didn't know how to say and the only words that came to his muddled mind were always the same.

"Hey.

Hey!

Look at me.

Only at me.

Love me."

But she wouldn't appreciate being talked to like that, so every time he was about to say anything he changed it into a joke or a tasteless remark about her physical attributes.

He didn't blame her for being angry.

Time went by and, instead of growing closer, he could feel the gap between him and his companions becoming larger and larger with each passing day.

And still she wouldn't look at him and instead longingly stared at the one who just wouldn't return her feelings.

She was suffering (or so he thought) and he was too, and years of emptiness crowned by the refusal of she whom he desired had turned him selfish enough to just stand by and let things happen.

Such a tragic situation, he'd say to himself and smile, trying to enjoy the drama and the romance and being unable to.

And he'd console himself, thinking things he knew were lies

"Who knows.

It's just another whim. It'll pass.

Perhaps she's just like the rest, anyway."

And sometimes the lies were helpful, sometimes they just didn't work.

And then one day came in which he had to make a decision, one so important that he couldn't ask his comrades for advice.

And yet he couldn't help it. That night, as snow fell for the last time in a city he would never visit again, he left his room behind and made his way to hers –

He had to ask her.

He had to tell her. Perhaps now the words would come out correctly, and perhaps her answer would help him see which path to take.

But before he could get much further, there she was – standing by the window, eyes firmly set on something outside.

"Hey!" he called, "Enjoying the scenery, sweet-buns?"

It had been the wrong thing to say. He had known it, but it was even clearer as she turned around. She looked about to cry and she looked angrier than he had seen her before.

"Leave me alone!" she yelled and stormed into her room, slamming the door behind.

He stared at the wooden frame for a few instants before walking to the window. Outside, walking closely together, were two figures: the first clad in red, the second with hair bright and golden.

He knew who they were, and he understood why she, the one he had been searching, had escaped.

Once more he stared at the door and wondered if he should knock, and console her. Wipe her tears away and assure her that she wasn't alone, that he was there for her – always – whenever she needed him to.

"Love me.

Because I will love you."

Zelos Wilder turned around and walked back to his room.

He wouldn't see much of tomorrow.

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Notes: If that's not tragic I don't know what is. I'm bad at angst. That's why this was so short. I enjoyed writing this, though – for detailed reasons look down to WDR talks Lit, though it's not particularly interesting. Here I'll only say that, when I first started writing the O-Dai I had decided to make each of them an experiment... this was a nice experiment, too.

So it kinda followed Zelos, though you're not told 'till the end... eh, I worry about the IC-ness of it all, but since I enjoyed it, I'm not sure I care. And yes, even if Lloyd was talking with Colette, this was thought of for the Kratos route. Don't complain, it was titled Tragic Love, what else could you expect?

I actually wrote this almost right after finishing with the last one, but for almost two weeks I was deprived of internet access, meaning I was unable to post it 'till now. As much as I liked it, I didn't check it... again... so any corrections and/or comments will be very welcome.

See you next time! Hope you enjoyed,

WDR

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Ten Cups of Sugar #1 – Next to you

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WDR talks Lit

A Latin-American writer once said that a short story wins by knock-out, a novel wins because of all the rounds it endures.

What that means is simply that a short story needs to have unity of impression for it to work: it comes; it hits the reader and leaves but leaves an impression. This is achieved by the use of a series of rhetoric elements and most importantly, I believe, by the mood.

Think of any story by Raymond Carver (a writer I recommend), he sets the mood from the very beginning by the use of certain key words; if you for instance read "dirty", "muddy", "crowded" and "dark" in the same paragraph then the mood you'll imagine won't be particularly happy.

I tried to do a vague, somewhat ominous mood in this O-dai. The elements I used were mostly

- The vagueness. Notice how no names were used 'till the very end? Vagueness also created a feeling of universality.

- Abruptness. The story doesn't move until the last moments.

- The focus. While the Narrator keeps in a 3rd person it penetrates the mind of one character alone, which makes the reader feel connected to said character.

- Repetition. Key sentences were repeated to create the illusion of confusion and indecision in the character.

- Structure. This one had a lot of full-stops, mostly to try and imitate the way thoughts tend to appear in one's mind, as if they fell one after the other. They abrupt separation of dialogue may also indicate the character is afflicted by some sort of madness, such as Charlotte Perkins' exellent The Yellow Wallpaper, another short story I really recommend.

If you read that all, I thank you. There are times one feels the need to write silly things like that. Who says studying literature does no good? Look! It helped me write fanfiction!

WDR (who is sorry for the short length of the O-dai.)