Ok, I decided to take a different approach here. Sorry if this turns a bit rantish; that's how it works. Don't flame me if I completely screw up angst.
Love.
What a horrid concept.
Who needs love, anyway?
Love is just something they tell you exists.
It makes you happy.
For a while.
But then someone has to go and ruin it.
Like he did.
He didn't mean to, of course.
Helping others, he said.
He was going to help protect others.
Keep them from dying.
But what about me?
Wasn't it me he loved?
So why'd he have to kill me?
He didn't actually kill me, of course.
He would have sooner strangled himself than purposely hurt me.
Wouldn't he have?
I really don't know.
Because I don't think I knew the Houndoom that left me.
I thought I did.
Of course I did; that's why I loved him.
Agh.
That love concept again.
I must stop using it.
I thought I loved him.
But since love doesn't exist I don't have to worry about that do I?
But anyways, I thought I knew him.
And that he wouldn't hurt me.
Then he went and died.
Died, trying to protect others.
Died, fighting for something that hadn't yet touched us.
Might never have.
Died.
Died.
Why?
I don't know.
I don't think even he knew.
He went off to some army.
Supposedly fighting for others.
I guess I can understand that.
But why him?
Why did he, of all those doomed recruits, have to die?
Ugh.
Puns.
I hate puns.
Like I hate him.
I remember.
He sent me one letter.
One.
He was gone for five months.
I got one letter.
It was short too.
If I were the one who left I would have made it a ballad.
AND sent one at least once a week.
20 weeks.
One letter.
Here's what it said:
Dear Lavra; I hope you are doing well. My garrison is about to move out to fight some Puritists. I should be back soon. –Doom
That's all it said.
All of it.
How could he?
I don't give a damn about his garrison!
All I wanted to know is if he'd be safe.
Which he obviously wasn't.
I guess one letter was better than none.
One meant he was safe.
But it also made me wish for more.
Better to have a taste and no more?
No.
A taste makes you long for more.
And the other letter, the one the army sent me.
Dear Lavra; I am sorry to tell you that Doom is now dead. My most sincere apologies,Van.
What the hell?
They printed out a stereotypical letter and some uncaring bastard filled things in.
Sincere apologies?
My ass.
Maybe it would have been better to not know.
No.
I'm glad they told me.
Now I know who to torture.
If I knew who the hell Van was.
Oh, Doom.
How I miss you.
We could have found that thing.
Tortured it.
But no.
You're gone.
You died.
He died.
He left me.
He killed me.
Love.
I hate it.
I see a Ratatta and his mate, walking along the path in front of me.
He licks her.
I torch them with a Flamethrower.
Love.
I just saved them a whole lot of heartache.
Because they're going to die.
And then they'll have to go through what I have to.
Or is that it?
No.
I'll admit that I'm jealous.
That they can have what I cannot.
Love.
Love.
I see another Houndoom.
I almost cry.
He looks just like Doom.
Doom.
I hate you, Doom.
He walks up to me.
How dare he.
I oughta kill him.
Shred him for coming so close to me.
No one should do that.
No one.
I think I may cry.
He walks up slowly.
"Lavra?" he murmurs.
And I do cry.
And through my tears I throw myself at him.
I'm sobbing hysterically.
Do you want to know why?
Because its him.
I don't know how.
Or why.
But it is.
Its Doom.
Love.
And despite what I know I'll go through again I forgive him.
Love.
Such a horrid concept.
One I can't live without.