Zeus & Byzantine - Chapter 8: The Man

Blue-purple neon lights lined the edge of a minimalist work desk, glowing faintly in the dim room. Three curved monitors surrounded the center like windows into another world. Light flickered against the thin glasses of the young man who sat there, fingers flying over the keyboard.

“Little Tomato!" Zeus groaned dramatically, collapsing face-first onto the desk. "Come back!”

Phew! He crouched hopelessly, forehead pressed against the cool surface.

“Oh, for Olympus' sake... I should never have listened to anyone. I should've followed my heart from the start. Dammit.” His voice cracked with regret. “Byu probably won't come back.”

But with his annoyingly god-level optimism, Zeus refused to give up hope entirely. No matter how dark the skies of Olympus looked, he stubbornly clung to one thing:

(If Byu comes back, I swear—I’ll do better.)

Night after night passed.

No matter how he tried—through dreams, clouds, cards, or music—he couldn’t reach me anymore.

And the more I read about his infamous legends...The more I felt disgust at his recklessness and impulsiveness.

“Whoever's stupid enough to date this crazy bastard deserves a lifetime subscription to heartbreak,” I muttered after finishing another short documentary on Zeus’s less-than-glorious romantic past. “Even if he were a regular mortal man, he'd still be impossible.”

Flirtatious. Impulsive. Immoral.

The perfect cocktail of why Olympus had fallen so far out of favor. If there were ever a god qualified to write “A Shortcut to Eternal Decline from the Human World,” it would be Zeus, without a doubt.