Disclaimer: I don't own anything Super Smash Brothers related. Just a fan of the franchise.
There he is, about twenty feet away from me at his own table with his own friends. We're in different worlds, he and I. It seemed like only a couple of days ago that I could easily trace his face with the tips of my fingers, though I'd already memorized every detail of him, every blemish on his face. It seemed like only a couple of days ago when I could just blurt out a completely inappropriate thought, and he wouldn't be surprised, the way most people are when they hear me say something impolite. It seemed like only a couple of days ago when he tucked my blond hair behind a pointed ear and whispered that everything was going to be alright and that he'd never leave me.
But that was almost a year ago.
"Zelda?" It takes an enormous effort to staunch the overflow of memories. I blink them away and look over to the person who'd called my name. I'd thought Samus was completely engrossed in her physics textbook. "What are you looking at?" she asks irritably as she scribbles down work on scratch paper.
"Nothing," I say after a moment. She wouldn't understand the way my body still seems to be stuck in the past. My heart doesn't realize that it isn't supposed to beat quickly at the sight of him anymore. My eyes don't understand that I can't look at him this way anymore. My fingers, usually warmer than usual, are frigid and stiff. And why, Goddesses, why am I constantly replaying, reliving our last days together?
Shit, I can't do this. I can't. Don't look at him, Zelda. Don't look at him if you know what's good for you. Stop, don't do thi- Dammit, you're looking, aren't you?
Why can't I listen to myself? But before I can beat myself up over my failure to listen to the sensible part of my mind, I'm eagerly drinking in the details of the God-like person that I am staring at. He'd cut his blond hair shorter, but this only served to make him more handsome. I watch him say something with that perpetual smile on his face. His bright blue eyes are glittering in amusement at something. He is so unaware that I am looking at him, marveling at his animated blue eyes. I have to wonder, if he knew I was staring at him like a moonstruck fool, what would he do?
Scarcely does this thought course through my brain when my conscience decides to address it.
I swear to Din, Zelda, if you get up and head over to that table...
My legs pay no mind to the open-ended threat. They've pulled me up and are leading me to that table where he sits with his new group of friends. I'm vaguely aware that Samus is asking me where I'm going, but I don't deign a response. My mind has blocked out any thought that doesn't involve Link. Right now, it's just me and him.
I walk over until I'm right next to one of the people at the table. My eyes, so greedy for his face before are suddenly shy, unsure. All of a sudden, I'm feeling uneasy about my oh so clever plan for him to notice me. But I can't turn away right now. I'd look stupid approaching this table without a thing to say.
"Peach!" I exclaim, a little too enthusiastically for my taste. The princess at the table swivels around in her seat, her eyes widening, taking in my appearance.
"Hi, Zelda!" she exclaims in a tone that's more enthusiastic than mine. We hug because that's what Peach does to anyone who greets her. I wonder if she can tell that my body is trembling and has gone ice cold. My mind is so wracked with incoherent and incomplete thoughts thoughts that I scarcely know what to do. I dimly register that this was a bad idea. "What are you doing here?"
My body senses that my brain isn't working well, so it goes on autopilot. I jerk a thumb backward to where I was sitting with Samus. "Just studying for a class," I say casually. Or I hope I'm saying that. I can't tell I'm just making noise or if I said something intelligible. Evidently, it's the latter because Peach nods in understanding. Meanwhile my pulse is racing faster, my blood seems to be draining from my face.
Oh for Nayru's sake, just look at him and see if he's been looking at you! That's what you came here for right?
My eyes refuse to obey. I don't dare look at him. I'm scared to find out. I hear myself laugh as though from far away at something Peach has said.
How could he not notice me? Of course he's noticed me and has done nothing about it. But I don't think I particularly want to read the expression on his face. I'm afraid of what I might find out. And so, determinedly, my eyes stay on Peach, Ike, Roy and Fox. I do not look at him. I'm a coward. My brain finally slows down and resignedly acknowledges that nothing is going to happen.
What in Farore's name did I think was going to happen? Was he going acknowledge me, and then walk towards me and sweep me off my feet the way he did nearly three years ago? Figuratively speaking, of course. Goddesses, I am so stupid. I should have listened to my conscience.
The disappointment is seeping into my brain like arsenic. My face is about to break down with the acknowledgment of this truth. I can already feel my nose turn crimson, anticipating the waterworks. I've always been an ugly crier. But I especially did not want to break down in front of him. It would be weak on my part. He no longer had the right to look at my vulnerable state.
So I hear myself make up an excuse to leave their table and force myself to walk away in a normal pace towards the ladies' room. I wanted a reaction from him so badly. The dam that I'd carefully built up around the questions that I didn't want to ask anymore suddenly breaks.
Why did he break up with me?
Was I just not good enough for him?
Was I not pretty?
I probably wasn't nice enough. That was probably it, right?
Was I too insecure? Too bitchy?
Each question tears cleanly through my brain like a bullet but rips through my heart like barbed wire.
The tears. Oh Godesses, the tears are threatening to well up and flow over my waterlines. But I can't cry until I've reached the restroom.
The disappointment finally hits its peak when I reach my final destination. I get the courage to look at my reflection and I'm not sure what I'm looking at anymore. I focus on the tears that I've barely been holding in, slowly letting go of the control.
The first tear is fat. It squeezes out and over my waterline, down my eyelashes, hanging there for one agonizing fraction of a second before it oozes onto my cheek. It slides down like a snail, leaving a salty trail. Oh, look. There's a second tear, equally as fat as the first, perhaps even more so.
Yes, Zelda. Let it all out. This is your own fault for getting your hopes up, you idiot.
I can't look at myself anymore.
I turn away from the mirror and I finally let loose a sob that's constricted my throat for awhile. I want him so badly. I want him to just look at me and feel what I feel when I look at him. I want him to smile at me, and only at me. Want him to regret breaking up with me. I want him to take me back.
It hurts so much. He is so close yet we are in separate worlds now. The answer is right in front of me, what I need to do next, but finding the answer is far easier than doing it. Even though I have the answer, will I be able to do it?
Because letting go is the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
So can I?
Sorry, I'm a bit sleepy, and so if this sounds blah to you, just remember that it's 1 in the morning and I've only spent about an hour on this (Minus the proofreading). Please, constructive criticism is ALWAYS encouraged, and I would love it if you left a review of what you thought about it.