The Trouble With Love Is~
Original Prompt: Since tomorrow is Valentine's Day (or even today in some countries?), I want Psyche to be Amor.
So he basically spends his days with making people fall in love, naturally. But, even though he used to claim that seeing people happy and spreading love all over the world is the best thing that can ever happen to him, he's unhappy. Because he wants to fall in love himself.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Psyche was sure that he had screwed up somewhere.
In his opinion, he had the best job ever. He created love in the world.
Well, maybe that wasn't exactly right. He didn't really create love so much as he…inspired it. Rushed the inevitable. Something like that. But still! He got to spend his days watching the beginnings of new love. And not one to let go of his work so soon, he continued to watch love bloom, watch it grow into a passionate blaze, ease down into an easy companionship that would withstand the ages. He was surrounded by the best thing the world had to offer, and yet…
…why did his job have to be so difficult?
The problem was that, these days, people didn't want to just "fall in love." Or, well, they did, but it had to be on their terms. They couldn't just take the gift of love for what it was worth and go with it. And while Psyche could kindle that love, he couldn't make anyone richer, or kinder, or higher in status, or-
Another vending machine sailed across the intersection, accompanied by the usual yelling and jeering and-
"IIIIZAAAAYAAAAA!"
-and that.
Psyche pressed his forehead to his knees and curled up on his bench, unwilling to watch his greatest folly parade in front of him. Again.
He could make them fall in love, but he couldn't take away their denial. And such strong emotions needed some sort of outlet. It was just his luck that it had morphed into…this. It looked like love wasn't enough, anymore.
He was sure it would change eventually. Maybe his timing had simply been too early. They really did love each other, and if they would stop trying to kill each other long enough to think about-
There was another crash, and Psyche jerked, sniffling. This wouldn't do! He was Love! He had to get out of this emotional funk and go do things with his life! Determined, Psyche stood and set off to make the world a little bit better. And if his bow dragged behind him just a tad, well…he ignored it.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
His hands were steady. They always were. If she would just stop bouncing so much!
He let the arrow fly, and it sailed straight into her heart, evaporating in the blink of an eye and leaving only love behind. It would cause quite a commotion if the arrows didn't vanish, he supposed. Psyche was pretty sure that love would be the last thing on his targets' minds, if that were the case.
With a happy little smile, he settled down to his favorite thing: people watching. People-in-love watching. And this afternoon, he'd been a little predictable and decided to hit the high school couple-to-be on the roof during lunch. But the familiarity and the innocence of it eased his heart, and he tried to let go of the scene in Ikebukuro this morning.
Teenagers' voices wove through his headphones, and he was careful to pick out those of most interest - the ones belonging to that couple down on the roof. It wasn't really their physical voices he heard. It was that of their hearts. Their inner monologues, perhaps. And while his headphones could pick up those within a certain range, they couldn't focus on a single voice - he fiddled with the buttons, making adjustments - because it was a project in development, after all.
Psyche heard her argue with herself, coo over his gentle personality, fawn over his good looks.
Psyche heard his disbelief, the fluttering in his heart that he tried to suppress, the shy acceptance hastily patched over by outward bravado.
It was adorable, completely unsurprising, and exactly what he needed.
So, then…why did his heart still twinge? Just that little bit?
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Psyche giggled from behind the the takoyaki vendor (who was currently giving him some very strange looks, but that was okay). He'd shot and run this time, hurrying to get a better vantage point from which to watch, and he peered carefully out from behind the vendor's cart.
Oh, he got major style points for this one. The couple was in front of a fountain, and aside from adding to the ambiance, the water paired with a gentle breeze sent droplets flying to scatter upon their skin, giving them a lovely, dewy glow in the early morning sun.
Psyche sighed. This really was the best job ever.
Psyche watched her giggle and cover her mouth as the boy fumbled through his words, her eyes alight with a joy that he could see even at this distance.
He was busy adjusting his headphones, trying to find their voices over that of the takoyaki vendor (because really, this jacket was adorable and certainly not effeminate or impractical in the slightest!), and so he didn't notice the couple approach the cart until it was too late.
He stared up with wide eyes, trying to seem as unsuspicious as possible - considering that he was crouched in hiding and wearing a white, fluffy coat in the middle of spring - but he needn't have worried. They were so in love at the moment that he probably could have sprinted around naked and they would not have spared him a glance. He laughed a little to himself at the image, trying to take the edge off the newfound ache that seemed to have developed in his heart.
He was happy for them. He really was. He was Love. He loved love and humans and sparking love between humans.
So why did this - why did they - make him sad, somehow?
Distressed, Psyche's eyes began to tear up. What did this mean? Was he forgetting how to love? Was he no longer good at this job? He bit his lip when it quivered, watching the new couple wander off in their bliss, and as soon as they had moved far enough away, Psyche broke into quiet sobs. What was wrong with him?
He felt a light tap on his shoulder and looked up through his tears to find the street vendor extending a small stick of takoyaki. Psyche took it with a trembling hand, noting the vendor's kind eyes despite the general confusion lacing through his headphones.
Psyche wasn't particularly hungry but...they were a gift. He gave a shaky thank you and popped one into his mouth.
He burst into tears at how good it was, hoping that the residual heat would warm his heart, too.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Mere days later found Psyche perched on the roof of Orihara Izaya's apartment, listening intently. Izaya was desperately trying to focus on his work, Psyche knew, but he kept hearing strains of other thoughts as they broke through Izaya's concentration. He could feel the love that was present, but it was buried deeply by pain, fear, confusion… There was actually no hate there, or else Psyche didn't think his arrows would have worked at all - he wouldn't put it past Izaya to defeat even Love's arrows - but Izaya was so angry. Angry at Shizuo, angry at himself, but worst of all, he was angry at Love. Angry at Love who had thought fit to bring him together with someone he-
"…so clearly hate…"
Psyche cuddled into the soft lining of his jacket, willing the harsh words away but refusing to leave. He wanted to help, somehow, but he didn't know what else he could do.
"…worthless target, stooping so low…never allow myself…"
He felt so lost. And alone. His heart…his heart hurt. And he didn't know what to do about that, either.
He had tried throwing himself more completely into his work, but every couple left him feeling even more empty than the last. And so he visited his past targets, checking in to see how they were doing, but that was even worse. Their love was old, strong, solid. Psyche had predicted that surely that would make him feel better, but he was in desperate tears after the third attempt. So he thought that maybe he should try to help along the relationships mired in reluctance and denial, and Izaya and Shizuo were on the top of his list.
Which left him here. Alone on a rooftop, skin damp from crying. How could he fix others when he couldn't even fix himself?
He slowly made his way down, lost in thought. Magenta eyes clouded over, and he wiped at them in frustration. He needed to think. He needed a quiet place. Someplace calm and beautiful. He allowed his thoughts to drift further, jumbled mess that they were, and he trusted his feet to get him where he needed to go.
Concrete gave way to grass, and the sounds of traffic became muted by a barrier of trees. Straying from the winding pavement, Psyche shuffled tiredly through the park, avoiding curious glances, wandering until he was stopped in his tracks by something that smelled almost…sweet. He blinked in confusion, trying to figure out where exactly he had ended up.
An old tree stood proudly in front of him, its branches heavy with greenery. He had quite nearly walked straight into it. Soft grass extended out from every side, sprinkled with delicate flowers, their soft petals swaying with the slightest movement of air. For whatever reason, the area was devoid of other visitors, and Psyche collapsed gratefully against the side of the tree.
Closing his eyes, he found that sunlight filtered through the leaves above, dappling the darkness behind his lids with flecks of grey, and while he was shaded by the tree's branches, he wasn't cold in the slightest.
It was a perfect place to think.
Except that, the more he thought, the more frustrated and saddened he became. Voices continued to float through his headphones, though he couldn't see to whom they belonged: their hopes and wants, how much they yearned for love, how much they needed it.
Shaking, he brought the little pink and white device up and glared at it. What about what he wanted? What about what he needed? He spent every waking minute working to give everyone else the gift of love, but why was there so little left over for himself? With a small whimper, he tore the headphone jack free and was cast into silence. He curled against the trunk of the tree, crying freely, and by complete coincidence, the same hand that had disconnected him from the world came up to press that small piece of metal against the bark.
Psyche thought his aching heart might stop when he heard…humming?
