So the thing about watching the person you love die? It fucks you up. It fucks you up for life, honestly, an unforgettable memory that tucks itself away into the deepest corners of your mind and comes back to haunt you in every living moment you can let it.
The thing about watching his reflection die? The same reflection you’re currently fighting feelings for off with a stick? It only compounds the pain, a very weighty dagger twisting itself into a wound that’s only barely healed. Every time Lloyd blinks, the images of Zelos, either dead in his arms or not even visible, reverted into a core crystal after being killed by his own power - they flash in Lloyd’s mind, torturing him in silence. Dry, aching eyes stare blankly out in the world as he tries his best to cope, grief choking every word he could say and leaving them stuck in his larynx, shock coating everything in a layer of hopelessness and regret. Lloyd can barely find the strength to be awake right now, but the threat of nightmares keeps him from sleeping. The idea of talking just seems like a waste of time and energy, the words unable to be pushed out.
And maybe he doesn’t want to talk. Maybe he doesn’t wanna show just how close he is to losing his goddamn mind.
Because, here’s the thing: Mithos’ reminder that blades can come back to life sends relief through Lloyd’s heart, piercing through the grief like a light in the dark. It’s comforting enough where Lloyd feels like he could allow himself to wrap himself up in it and try desperately to put the pieces of his shattered stability back together. But something else knocks at his head, incessant and maddening, something Malos had told him ages ago, back when Lloyd had first landed in this world’s Meltokio.
“We return to our core crystal until someone comes around to wake us up again-- but, we do lose our memories when we return to our core crystals, so it's kind of like dying, I guess.”
So even though Lloyd rejoices in the fact that Zelos will live, that his flame wasn’t coldly snuffed out like Lloyd’s Zelos’ was, Lloyd is left mourning for the memories this Zelos won’t have, for the late nights and the conversations and everything that had been built up. Zelos isn’t dead, but their friendship is.
And Lloyd doesn’t know if he has the strength to try again.
(But then again, a small, hopeful part of Lloyd's mind refuses to surrender, Mithos had died, and he had kept his memory. Maybe there's still a chance.)
Mithos calls out to him, and Lloyd blinks, staring up at him, distant in mind and body, as he speaks. He’s not okay, that’s the answer, and even though he appreciates the wave of concern he feels from Mithos, Lloyd can’t find it in him to open his mouth and say it. Instead, he grabs his pack, finding a pencil and a piece of paper he can write on, and explains in writing.
Lloyd is volunteering to make club t-shirts
The thing about watching his reflection die? The same reflection you’re currently fighting feelings for off with a stick? It only compounds the pain, a very weighty dagger twisting itself into a wound that’s only barely healed. Every time Lloyd blinks, the images of Zelos, either dead in his arms or not even visible, reverted into a core crystal after being killed by his own power - they flash in Lloyd’s mind, torturing him in silence. Dry, aching eyes stare blankly out in the world as he tries his best to cope, grief choking every word he could say and leaving them stuck in his larynx, shock coating everything in a layer of hopelessness and regret. Lloyd can barely find the strength to be awake right now, but the threat of nightmares keeps him from sleeping. The idea of talking just seems like a waste of time and energy, the words unable to be pushed out.
And maybe he doesn’t want to talk. Maybe he doesn’t wanna show just how close he is to losing his goddamn mind.
Because, here’s the thing: Mithos’ reminder that blades can come back to life sends relief through Lloyd’s heart, piercing through the grief like a light in the dark. It’s comforting enough where Lloyd feels like he could allow himself to wrap himself up in it and try desperately to put the pieces of his shattered stability back together. But something else knocks at his head, incessant and maddening, something Malos had told him ages ago, back when Lloyd had first landed in this world’s Meltokio.
“We return to our core crystal until someone comes around to wake us up again-- but, we do lose our memories when we return to our core crystals, so it's kind of like dying, I guess.”
So even though Lloyd rejoices in the fact that Zelos will live, that his flame wasn’t coldly snuffed out like Lloyd’s Zelos’ was, Lloyd is left mourning for the memories this Zelos won’t have, for the late nights and the conversations and everything that had been built up. Zelos isn’t dead, but their friendship is.
And Lloyd doesn’t know if he has the strength to try again.
(But then again, a small, hopeful part of Lloyd's mind refuses to surrender, Mithos had died, and he had kept his memory. Maybe there's still a chance.)
Mithos calls out to him, and Lloyd blinks, staring up at him, distant in mind and body, as he speaks. He’s not okay, that’s the answer, and even though he appreciates the wave of concern he feels from Mithos, Lloyd can’t find it in him to open his mouth and say it. Instead, he grabs his pack, finding a pencil and a piece of paper he can write on, and explains in writing.
Can’t talk, his messy scrawl reads. I’ll be fine.