AN- I'm not going to move this into my one-shots collection for Four Swords, simply because I really want this to stand on it's own. So, let me explain a little.
After their adventure, Green begs to find a different way to keep Vaati and Ganon sealed, rather than turning back into one. Zelda stashes the sword in an ultra-powerful chest used specifically for sealing away demons. Green is in love with Vio, but it aware that Vio is still in love with Shadow, who is now "dead", and only living in the dark world. Vio progressively becomes distant to the others, and Green takes specific note of this. . .
There he is again. It's nearly ten o'clock at night and he's still sitting on that tree stump, reading. At least, that's what he'd like us to think. He can't be reading. He just can't be. He has no lantern, no light source, and absolutely no night vision. I can see right through him.
He's thinking about Shadow. I know it. And every second I steal a glance at him, I hate Shadow more.
But Shadow is a part of us. He's a part of the body, a part of our family. He's just as much of a hero as I am. We couldn't have done it without him. But I still hate him more with each passing moment.
Nothing will ever compare to the betrayal I felt when he crossed to the dark side to join Shadow. Shadow had tricked him, warped him, brainwashed him! I kept repeating it over and over in the depths of my mind. The real Vio was still there, deep down, I knew he was. Vio couldn't be gone, he just couldn't be. . .
Thank the goddesses I was right. And wrong.
Shadow hadn't brainwashed him. Vio was never really part of the dark side, just a double agent searching for answers. I was never more relieved in my life. Watching Vio betray the creature of darkness was bittersweet and satisfying.
But it wasn't over. I should've known. I should have known.
Because Shadow came back. He wasn't evil. He just wanted to be noticed. He wanted to be special. He wanted us to care. And for a moment, I did. Until it hit me so hard I lost my breath.
Vio loved him. He still does. That's why he's staring off into the black-and-white pages of his book, as if it contained the answers to his calls.
Shadow broke the mirror. He broke himself. He lost it all just for Vio's sake. He loved Vio back. He really did, and for that I hate him. I'm aware of how selfish it truly is, but nothing could stop me from hating every inch of his existence.
He wanted to be noticed. Loved. Important. He already was. He still is, dead or not.
These shards of broken glass aren't going to clean up themselves. And as I watch Vio through the darkness, I already know what will happen.
I'll spend my time memorizing the rhythm of his footsteps, the sound of every breath, and the number of colors in his eyes– all the blues and greys and purples. I'll do all the hard work and get nothing in return. Not even a glance or a smile. He's too preoccupied to think of me.
And he'll spend his time– when he thinks no one is looking– repairing the mirror, piece by piece. (He's not aware of me knowing about the shards he kept– each and every one.) He'll work until he solves the puzzle, and then he'll stand up and walk away from it.
But of course, he'll come back.
He'll come to us and tell us he's leaving; he's not secretive unless he needs to be. Red will cry, and Blue will shout, and I'll just play the peacemaker, like I always have.
And as he leaves I'll chase after him, hoping for one last goodbye. I'll call out to him, and he'll stand still for a moment. He'll know it's me. He'll know I've been watching. He'll know that I love him. Maybe he already does.
And then he'll turn around, slowly, his face as expressionless as he can keep it. He'll steal a glance at the mirror behind him; his road to paradise, to what he wants. He'll look right through me. He won't see who I really am. He won't care. He won't understand. And I'll love him all the way through that.
And then he'll look up and finally meet my eyes. And for a second, everything will change. He will understand, he will care, and he will see who I am and what I truly need. For a second, everything is how it should be.
But of course he doesn't want it that way.
He'll take a step back towards the mirror, looking at me the whole time, and he'll. . .
He'll. . .
I'll. . .
. . . Well, these shards of broken glass aren't going to throw away themselves.
