A/N: The modern love story's a weird thing. This could be seen as an attempt to realize a modern love story, or an extension of the attack on it. Your call.
The setting is AU, modern times, but a modern Hyrule. It's a SheikXLinkXZelda triangle, meaning SheikXLink and LinkXZelda.
I know this is prolly going to get a lotta tl;dr, but hay, that's what writing is for, huh? On with the story.
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Part One
He had left the orphanage on a tip, a promise on the wind going to thef west, and he didn't have any other option than to follow it. At this point his direction was hanging out to dry. There was nothing else to do than go, and his feet were always moving forward. So he hopped a train out going west, underneath the looming dark of the night, the concrete structures, and the cheaply glowing white neon signs; slept part of the way there stretched out across the seats, and woke as a hint of powder blue started to charge into the sky. Arrived on the threshold of daybreak, into more glowing advertisements and changing lists naming places...but then stepped out of the round station and into the city night.
It looked almost surreally twisted, too dark and serious to be anything but a dream picture; everything tall and closed off. People were still bustling off the train, even at this time of night...the cool morning breezes were starting to breath up from summer, along the cobblestone to caress the faces of weary travelers...in the mystic glow, all the tall indifference, he looked about him and was knocked head-on by the dark starry feeling that the night air pressed at his back, thought for a moment that he was really in the right place. The buildings shot straight up from the concrete ground and looked with impassive frowns on the wide empty center of town; rain was dripping down from the metal awning, as though it was the only sound fit to echo.
He was bustled along by some people making their way past him, an old family of aunts and nieces with suitcases. He shrugged into his mind and knew that the first thing to do would be to get a place to sleep.
His body ached and along his limbs he could feel the buzzing hum asking for comfort; his stomach felt pale, sour, and empty. He let out a yawn between a billboard and the entrance to the station, and moseyed on along. An autumn breeze touched his skin and left wet droplets alive on the tremulous flesh, and his eyes were dark blue-green and starry swamp. Light cascaded onto his face as he wondered in awe along streets of coffee shops, all-night hamburger joints, record stores with flashing pictures of LPs, a bank-type place with big windows where the employees were cleaning up, winding down...White facades and the pale glow of buzzing light.
A group of people catcalled at him, but all he did was smile. Each step he took was like a meat hammer to his feet; fell with a heavy gravity, made it feel like the blood was rushing down. His mind whirled around what starry possibilities could be wrenched, twisted out of this purple half-night; spun him up in dreams so that he moved within a world of vivid dreams and hollow bodied aching.
The backstreets of the city winded and twirled through realms of impossibility. This was pretty damn near a maze...suddenly he began to feel a heated panic that he might not find someplace to sleep...the night breeze cycloned up and seemed to warn of the affirmative. He shivered.
Eventually, after wandering, half-assedly navigating the dark street corners, he came upon a building that stood apart from the rest of the city that was square and severe in light stone and concrete, semi-ornate iron gate and square shrubs as a testimony to straightness- also, a flag waving austere in the small breeze. A government resthouse...
They looked at him suspiciously, regarded him with that barely considering haughty look that clerks are wont to give. But they couldn't refuse him a room. He took his suitcase and shuffled into the room when a portly young man opened it for him- as if to say, "Here, take it, it's yours- for tonight..." He didn't have any mind to pay this man though. He just collapsed sideways on the bed.
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He took a quick shower in the morning. Washed off all that grittiness and grime, sweated off the blues of yesterday in the quickly pouring steam...didn't catch breakfast even though hunger was swallowing his mortal mind. Instead, he went to the front desk and asked where the public phones were, and set his mind on phoning his friend- the one who had referred him here, guided him to this strange city...
He finally got a hold of him after two consecutive tries. "Ah, hell-oh?" he answered, winded as though from a jog, hurried as though torn up from a busy day.
"-Hey hey!" (He said it like he was waking from a reverie, suddenly snapping up to cheer.)
"Link!? That you?"
"Yeah," he answered through a hoarse laugh- a laugh that could be noticed from miles away, silver edged and light..."What's, uhm, news?" he continued, shuffling his feet- feeling slightly uncomfortable in the big empty hall...the telephones were lined up against a wall in an empty marble-decked room, and the only other people were a stately lookin' man with a powerful mustache, and a nervously shuffling woman who gave Link the stink eye...every noise he made seemed to be an affront to some well-established law of humanity. He pulled his shirt collar nervously.
"Nuthin' much. How'd you get in? When, I mean?"
His voice was far away, static from another planet- small and metallic. "Uhm, just yesterday night. I went by train," he answered, trying to get into the swing- he peered past two telephones and saw this woman nervously sputtering, "If John takes his coat, if John takes his coat..." His friend was saying something, but he could barely listen to him- he was so far away, and besides, this woman was interesting...but then she looked up and caught Link stealing glances at her with casual slim eyes, and she gave him a death glare and pursed her lips. He laughed sunnily.
"...tonight- hey, watcha laughin' at?"
"Ah, nothing," Link answered, waving it off and mouthing "sorry" to the incensed woman. Her bird's eyes grew smaller and glittered black in indignation before she turned on a stamping heel. The radiosonic waves- colored electricity yellow- brought him back to his conversation.
"'Ah, nothing?' Awright then. Lissen you. There's a party tonight. You oughta come."
Link paused, looking off into the expanse of the room with curious eyes. "Oh, yeah?...Cool." They made quick arrangements; once the phone was hung up, Link was left solitary again- only to his thoughts and impressions. He swung his arms, walked out of the sunny room and tried to make sense back upstairs.
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The black night spun its starry fingers around him as he crossed the street, skipping along a half-jogging pace. The night seemed starless, but maybe it was just the contrast of the lights exploding all around him, humming low- the dimly glowing awnings, the blue party lights of cars spinning past him...a slight rain misted up from the street as tires passed him by. His friend ran up behind him, panting death. "Link! Christ, watch it when you cross!"
"Eh?" Link smiled, bemusedly- Link had never known a car that could run him down. His friend looked him over. Link didn't even seem to be aware that a car could smash him.
He smiled, brought his arm up in a sweep and caught Link in a close headlock, his face brimming with affection. "Aw never mind, you lucky sonofabitch-"
"Owch hey lemme go!" Link laughed, tugging out of his friend's deathgrip. He brushed himself off, and they came to a door painted midnight black. The spots where the paint was chipped showed through bright orange-red- a red like copper blood. Link kicked his shoes along the gummy concrete steps, wondered what they were doing here- the door looked so big and ominous...
His friend knocked secretly on the door and Link pondered whether it wasn't some top-secret signal, some boyscout handshake given over only to the guards of a like perception. No matter- no questions were asked, and the door unlatched quickly (Link didn't notice that a little trapdoor in the middle had flipped up and two black eyes had peered through- too spun up in dreams).
The door opened and they were ushered in like schoolkids, with an almost urgent air. Off of the street and into warm lights- into a corridor that was lonely but painted like warmth, with antique sidetables in black lacquer and two cast-iron chairs. How weird. "Hey," said the non-person who had let them in, and just as noiselessly faded back into the unkown depths.
A motif of dreamy cherry trees and craning birds was fading into city brick above an archway that led into a stream of lights and crowded people. Everything seemed dusty black in this strange foreigner's highway. "Hey, watcha lookin' at? I know some girls here who are packin' it, so let's get on, man," his friend threw back to him, smiling wolfishly.
Link smiled back quickly and finished soaking in the feeling of the corridor to join him- two orphans moving into the world of maddening crowds, of connections and static.
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He couldn't figure out whether this was a house or just some place- it was weird. It looked sort of like a cross between a bar and a living room, not quite a lounge- it looked sort of public, but for the stinging obvious realization that everybody here knew each other- it was so blindingly apparent that Link felt awkward moving into the spaces between people. But there was enough space that you could sit like a shadow on the sidelines anyway.
Anyway, his friend had introduced him to some people- this wailing sad guy called Kamo who seemed to always be on the unfortunate precipice of knowledge, a guy whose face was warm and open, and a guy whose presence was thin as night air, couldn't even see him if you looked a certain way. They were part of the group now, or at least standing on its perimeter [/sidelines?]; Link tapped his feet lightly on the shining beer-colored floor.
There was black lacquer lining the bar, and the fixtures all seemed to be in the style of post-modernist bombings, the after-effects of the nuclear bomb shedding tears onto a city life- that kind of rusted, banged-up urban thing going on, juxtaposed to bright colors in primary vision. But there was such an atmosphere of stars in here, that Link wondered what all the drabness was about. Or maybe the stars were just in his head...he smiled at the thought, and to anyone looking at him, that smile was like a sweet death.
His eyes wandered- everybody here was close-knit as a sweater, and there was no way to breach the bonds. It seemed like everybody here was holding onto some kinda secret, didn't want anybody new to be let in on the big joke. Everybody was already part of somebody else, needed nobody new. One of those parties where everybody turns the mask on. This wasn't the Eden he was hoping for- maybe more like a secret garden- you needed a key, but it wasn't apparent where to find it...
Near to them (paces away, beyond the moving liquid barrier of people) was another group, hotter and closer strung than theirs that Link had noticed as his eyes had flicked around the room half-lazy: four or five guys, and maybe one girl who seemed like a movie extra tagged along for the parade, party to vanity. Something about the group flashed across a sharp-cutting message- maybe it was something in the eyes...there was one guy, strong and solid in build, who had a grin like a tomcat on the run and leading-man looks- who just kept smiling...a couple of others whose eyes were shaded, who had faces like blank canvas.
A guy was throwing up in an ice bucket, his face veiled by stringy hair (some of it caught in the upchuck...gross); standing by him, in the warm alcohol light, someone whose frame was like the night wreathed in blue smoke, laughing richly with his head tossed back, seemingly at the guy who was throwing up. Something in him releasing an energy that was...wild, a little manic, colors throwing off him in every different direction. Clothing like a child soldier, a look that was vital and sharp as death- but also warm, sweet...He was thin, slight, seemed to lean on invisible forces in the air- had a body that made you aware of curve and hip and bone, so slight in the flesh that you could make out the subtle, hungry lines of the fragile human frame...Real lean meat, love song and walking guitar- his hair was dark blonde and he had deep, rusty tanned skin; and when he flicked his head back down and his eyes caught onto Link's, Link saw his eyes were a dark red color, a lot like a scar or dried blood- but had this brighter sheen, a sheen of something loose that Link couldn't put his finger on. Then Link was surprised- there was this graying cloth covering the guy's face that he hadn't noticed before.
A thoughtful look came onto the guy's eyes, but then he just looked away, seeming to be able to look into the infinite space behind solid objects with ease. Link thought he looked interesting and shrugged it off, turned back to his group of loosely affiliated limbs.
They were talking bout something largely uninteresting, which was largely a yawn, and Link interrupted for a moment. "Hey, who's that guy?" he asked childishly, pointing uninhibitedly at the group.
"What? Who?" his friend asked, tentatively, craning his head to look past a chick in a sequin top. "Hey yeah, and don't point," he laughed.
"That one with the blonde hair, the- uhm shadow-" he laughed shortly- the group looked in a mass of confused heads- "Do you know him?" His voice was like a little kid's.
There was a short pause; his friend muttered something, trying to figure it out- and suddenly Kamo broke out with a drawn groan. They turned to him. "What?" one of the guys asked, with a slick smile, "You know him?"
Kamo shook his head as if in a dark despair. "No- that's Sheik," he answered, the breath in his voice oppressed by a huge blurred sentiment. He lifted his arm weakly to reach for his drink. "He's fucking crazy," he groaned again, "Don't get involved with him."
Link blinked blue in quiet confusion. "Crazy? What do you mean?" he answered, beginning to smile.
"He's just-...crazy," he answered, shaking his head with woe, like he was trying to shake off a bad memory. Link laughed and was about to say something- the whole group was on the verge of a laugh, for that matter- but he held his hand up as if to dismiss the matter, like a Roman consul. "I mean it- he's nuts. Totally off his rocker." He paused in a shade of chartreuse rue. "Don't say I never told you," he shrugged.
Link paused and thought about it, figured maybe he was exaggerating. His friend laughed. "Dude, you sound like you've been involved or something," he offered in mirth.
Kamo shot up his eyes in a firm, fiery protest- but the rest of them were already hella ranking on him. The topic was spit back and forth with vehemence, but soon dropped into a black pit of dying laughter. "But hey yo, that chick with him is kinda hot..."
The conversation receded. Link caught another glance at the guy- Sheik. Something about him was pretty cool- something about him was like water, or maybe like dying ashes. He guessed it didn't really matter, though. He turned back inward, and when the night was over, it was back to tar and the faceless government resthouse, back to cool air and stars. Back to pondering lightly what he was going to do here.
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Sure, he had seen him- that new face who had been scanning over him before their eyes hooked. For a moment it was strange, and he noticed some kind of light in his perception, noticed that for a moment he was knocked back by a heavy, starry pink feeling.
He looked thoughtfully at him. Something about him was beat, weary angel down- something about him was drizzly and low. He paused and wondered why he looked that way- why he looked like ultrafox caught in between a world of light and darkness, why he looked like he carried such a burden on the crux of his tired shoulders. He looked like he could cut through twilight, looked like he could sweep past light and dark and go straight into the heart of the matter. He looked like he had a lot of heart.
He had never seen this kid before- blonde hair (the shade was more like fucking blonde- a baby blonde shade, looked too delicate to touch) and slightly troubled blue eyes...a worried mouth, but that released a laugh that was light and made of some silver composition, possibly mercury or some other equally starry element. What did that laugh remind him of?
Later when he was alone, embraced thickly by darkness and angled shadows, having a cigarette beneath glowing red neon lights, he thought on the kid again. Definitely Angel Beat. He forgot about it soon, though, caught up with the wine night, went right back into the lights and the people that shaped his usual days.
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Lately Link was wondering just what he was doing here- what game he and everybody else was trying to play. He didn't feel like he was getting anywhere. It had started off a high, windy day, clear and keen blue, but the wind got lower as the day went on- now, nearing pale yellow sunset, it was only stirring small hurricanes among dry brown leaves that hit the ground. Summer was slowly smoldering out, the end of the cigarette.
He ambled on. Everybody had money here. He was right next to broke-down poor. Everything seemed beyond his reach, and aside from this, there was nobody here who could make the days lighter. It seemed like there wasn't even a point to any of it- the days seemed to float by without character, pale and formless. There was nothing really going on with his friends- they passed by and passed out...there seemed to be something going on everywhere here, but it was all inaccessible- or he didn't have the keys.
He passed by the narrow backstreets, passed the quiet and the storm, and began to come on to the commercial roads- that wide circle in the middle of the city where the train station was, past that and into the market on the south side of town. A chill swept up from the gray streets, and the small wind picked up and spun the leaves. At least he had gotten to know his way around...
The market sounds played full on. There was no deep sunset-orange- only a misty yellow color mingled with twilight blue as the night began to ascend. The streetlamps lit in a synchronized succession down the road, and each one made a carnival glow into the medium blue sky. Something that was like stardust seemed to float down from the houses above the flower shops, above the fruitstands and the delis...It came down like liquid warmth and cast a sleepy feeling on the road.
...The road was thick with people. The crowd swelled and ebbed around him as he walked along. People were yelling, hawking back and forth, and everybody had that look on their face that they had something better to do when they got home- that look that you see on the shuffling afternoon commuters rushing for the train to go back. But he was feeling, low, real low, a buzzing in his heart that made his head feel lazy. He didn't really know what he wanted after all...
He shrugged into his jacket and noticed that even through the thick of the crowd there was an oasis somewhere- a spot that seemed unapproachable by magnetic force. It was like a clearing through the crowd. Curious, he stepped forward, pulled on the leash by the beckoning call, and made his way over to the clearing.
Were people avoiding this spot? It seemed so- not even passers-by were cutting through it, they were just going around. Monkey see, monkey do. The pale yellow light softened, melted like butter into the blue. The blue, now a lapis-lazuli, sparked by stray strands of electricity that whirled from the neon signs being turned on for tonight.
It was a fruit stand...nothing really special. Some chick tending it, standing bored as a painting. Thousands of little oranges shone like Christmas lights from the wood boxes organized lazily around. The air at once became softer and clearer to breath- not so hot down and sticky.
The only person there besides the black-haired chick was a lean figure whose balance was recorded in the air for reference. Small and lithe, slightly feminine- receding like a shadow back into the shapes and the sounds. The figure was looking at an orange with intense interest, as though it weighed the balance. Dark blonde hair...Link paused in his steps, surprised. Oh, he knew him- from that party, a week or two ago- what was his name...
There must have been a radar, because the guy sensed somebody within the five-foot clear that surrounded him. He turned slightly, the movement subtle and small, pivoting a little to get a clearer view. Link paused again like he'd stepped on a cat tail, but inhaled and exhaled a bit and then came forward again. The look in the guy's eyes was slightly illegible, but in the dark blood color Link noticed the spark of something vibrant; through the stranger expression, Link saw a hint of light.
He was closer and with one syllabic step remembered his name like a school lesson- Sheik! That was it. He noticed that Sheik still exuded that colorful energy, still held that same magnetic draw, could draw attention with the suspension of his hand. The crowd of cloth was still blocking his full face.
Now next to each other, Sheik turned his head considerately to Link and seemed to be waiting for him to go on. His gesture seemed to say that the orange was still an option though, if Link turned out to be boring.
Well, this was embarrassing...he suddenly had nothing to say. He paused and was almost about to laugh. A sharp citrus smell wafted lazily 'cross the path of his nose. He looked into the mountain of oranges like trying to find a conversation hidden in them. Finding it futile, he settled on what would make the most sense to say.
"Uhm, hello," Link said, kicking the his left heel with his right toe.
A pause hung over the night air, but the fall wind said it was too late. A flash of light passed over Sheik's eyes; a bike spun by and almost clipped a girl walking next to them. Sheik turned to Link subtly- his head only tilting a bit- but it had the effect of looking at him full-on; the hand with the orange lowered. "...Hey," Sheik answered, his eyes lighting up a little.
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The night was a song- started with that deep medium blue of eight 'o' clock and the bursting of white stars one by one to guide the night on. Ice cream in the atmosphere. The day was now windless; what had started out as a small cyclone along the ankles was now dead, a floating spirit on the air lazily wafting into Link's ears and through his brain. Liquid lamplight clarified the twisted clusters of tree branches, retrieved their shapes from florid darkness twisting a veil over form and matter.
It was the end of summer, and there was this fall breeze that kissed the air and ran shivers down his bones. Even in the streetlight pale, though, Sheik was made of graffiti colors- his energy guided Link through the foreign streets that were like a sand-torn desert. They were traveling in crowd of somewhere around five, swimming along, made of pure bronze and meeting the night head-on.
They didn't even need to be doing anything, didn't need to be going anywhere; just this breezy high feeling on the cold night was enough to jumpstart the nerves. Link walked ahead of the lagging group, at the forefront with Sheik who seemed to be guiding him low. The rest of the gang was all rowdy anyway, they were already on their kicks.
Words were pointless; the highest form of expression at the moment was a kick of the limbs, shooting straight out into the night. A felaheen car swooshed by like a turtle, and a young mother was coming out of her apartment building for kicks. The group came onto a neon-lit commercial street and a small argument came up about where to stop.
"Aw, Sheik, let's stop here," Raven said- Raven was the one with the tomcat eyes and the bandit smile who Link had seen at that party a while ago.
"And why?" Sheik answered, continuing to walk like fluid darkness, but stopping on a short turn.
"I'm fuckin' tired of walking," Raven answered, spitting onto the ground. Link lost his balance for a moment and leaned oddly onto his left foot, close to Sheik.
"What place?" some chick at the back of the group asked.
"Gillian's," Raven spat back. Raven was like an alligator- he thrashed through things with a toothy smile and fixed eyes, without regard to form.
"Gillian's? Awesome, this place is supposed to be good," another guy said. "Let's stop here, huh, Sheik?"
Sheik ran an idle hand through his dark blonde hair and seemed to see cosmic space; the look reflected in his eyes was full of the magic darkness of the unknown. He looked at Link, and his eyes lowered a bit; Link jolted from daydreaming at that look- seemed to be asking him something. "Well?" Sheik asked, waving smally toward Link.
"What?" Link asked, dumbly.
"Is here fine with you?"
"Aw don't leave it to the kid," Raven snapped back, and then shrugged huffily, "Imma go in anyway."
"You probably just have some fleece to pull," Sheik threw back at him,- the glint in his eye made Link imagine he was smiling.
"Hah, maybe," Raven smirked back.
"Regardless- Link, what do you think?" Sheik asked.
Link shrugged, the cold wind blowing at their backs. "It's fine with me," he shrugged, cocking his head. Sheik looked at him more intently and Link shrank back- and then they both laughed, and the wind blew up a white light.
Sheik gestured toward a door on the street- any door, choose your adventure- and his hand, small and quaint, held all the authority of the executor, and vanished into the tunneling space of the night. "Your guess, Raven," he said, and his head tipped up a little. The streetlights and the concrete played shadows on his face, secret and magical, and hollowed out the shapes; made shadow-plays on his bones, and struck right through the flesh like a bullet to reveal all of Sheik's cosmic force- made it clear that he resided in the middle of blue neon space. Link smiled, feeling that this was what he'd been waiting for.
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The place was even more warm than the last party- had a decor colored like beer and an aura of silver sequin that gently poured down from the ceiling- but like that last place, it was vague. It was maybe a lounge of some sort, but everybody still seemed to know each other. Link was a little confused, but not caring much- he was having fun, and as everybody saw, when he was happy he exuded a particular brilliance- a certain shine that smiled blindly and cheerfully. He was still a little reserved- he was new, after all, and didn't want to give the wrong impression- but he was effervescent and electric, a voltaic battery in silver and platinum gold.
You could hear his laugh across the room. Sheik smiled. They had stuck together most of the night; now were at the bar, near a man who was sunk in the misery of bein' drunk. "Nobody understands," he moaned, as though in pain- but then he lifted up his head and seized them with a look. "But you've- gotta understand!" He flailed his hands; the look in his eyes melted like molten silver.
Link turned his head to him, surprised that the man was addressing them, but Sheik just turned his eyes as if it were expected, had known the drunk was looking toward them all along. "Excuse me?" Link asked, blinking, in innocent confusion.
The man paused, seemed to be surprised to be answered; and then he looked over Link, and saw something in the brilliance of his person. Without warning he lunged forward and got a death grip on the cloth at Link's shoulder, the other hand following suit; Link jumped a little in complete confusion. "The world," the man despaired, shaking his head of some kinda pain. "The world- when this all comes to an end, nobody's gonna- I mean who's gonna- you know be here? To tell the tale?"
Link's eyes turned to a baby shade of alarm and concern, and Sheik almost let out a rich laugh. "Yeah- uhm," Link managed to answer, looking at the man's hands on his shoulder.
"Right! Right? Nobody's gonna be able to- tell, you know? Tell? Yeah? I mean- and it's- important!" He shook Link a little, as if he'd forgotten he wasn't holding onto a beer mug anymore. Link's expression said "help me!" in the worst possible way, but Sheik was watching with intent and amusement. "And the worst is- when it explodes- it'll all be- lead! Lead and plastic! All that lead, and all that plastic- all that shit we use every day- and fucking- ahem- and can you imagine? Nobody will be able to tell! Do you understand- do you get it? Do you under-stand?"
"Yeah, I kind of, uhmm, get what you...hahaha," Link answered as best he could, dissolving into light, nervous laughter.
"But of course," Sheik cut in, sliding off the stool he was sitting on in a smooth movement, "when the world explodes, there will be more- confetti skulls, the silk bat, manic gumballs- the slashed forests razed to a pity, and the fallen stars in a blaze; the dying fanfare. In addition to the lead and plastic."
Link and the drunk man had both turned to Sheik, with different reactions. Link had a huge grin smack across his face, to which Sheik eyes lit knowingly. But the man had risen from despair into a panicked light- and then right down into the black hole of anxiety, much deeper than misery could ever be. It was as if the ingredients Sheik had thrown into the pot had changed the formula of thought dramatically. "...wha- What?" the man asked, looking into himself at the ruined puzzle.
"Hey! Watchyou losers doin' here all night?" Raven bit through the atmosphere, apparating suddenly from nowhere, "There's a whole fuckin' party goin' on! And women for the fuckin' picking." He grinned, and though Link noticed his wolfish eyes scan over the drunk man, he seemed not to take him into consideration.
Somebody had taken over the bar piano, Link noticed as notes and chords trickled, beat through mind for a moment. Sheik indicated going with a slant of his hips, seemed to have converted the drunkard into empty space-to forget about him in a flash. Sheik made a gesture to Link that said gently that he should come if he wanted to and then began to imperceptibly make his way away from the bar. Link looked back at the drunkard and thought for a doubtful moment that they probably shouldn't leave him alone; but then weighed it, and decided quickly and happily that he'd probably be okay on his own. Just for safe measure, he gave the drunk dude a small reassuring pat on the shoulder as he passed him and headed off behind Sheik, by which he unconsciously made it all the more worse. But this was the night, and these were its stories- the cutting night will always be indifferent.
The moon was even shining in here, yellow and crepe paper and dusty wine. The silver dreamy quality was still wafting about; and Link trailed behind Sheik in a small puppy walk, while Sheik moved with slim assurance, liquid dark. Link smiled at a woman who waved to him nearby. "People are strange," Sheik said just ahead of him, and Link snapped his attention back to Sheik, "Memory is an illusion."
Link smiled, gleaming softly. "Sometimes, the way things are, people become second to the scenery, I guess," he agreed, with a small shrug.
Sheik's eyes changed a shade and he looked at Link consideringly, as though weighing a new thought. "But- it'd be unwise to let them know," he answered, with a slick, dangerous tone and a light in his eyes like smiling. Link laughed in return, as though to promise- Sheik was still trying to figure out what Link's laugh reminded him of...
They were moving on when out of the warm space suddenly came two figures, and bam- Link almost bumped into them dizzily. He looked over them for a moment. "Oh, hello, Sheik," one of them said, his speech very gentle and deliberate- sounding very well-thought out.
Sheik's eyes turned another shade- were like wheels, in fact, always revolving, always changing to match the mood. "Ah, Shad," he answered, his voice light as his feet.
Link was introduced to the soft-spoken one, Shad (a guy with messy hair and round scholar's spectacles, but with very cautioned manners, and a soft way of behaving) and then introduced to the other one- but, hey! He knew that guy- it was Kamo, that guy who was crying about Sheik at that party. Link noticed, indeed, that the expression on the dude's face melted like butter into pale horror, his eyes in death alarm- but Sheik seemed not to notice. Link waved smally at him, but Kamo didn't acknowledge him back, so he dropped.
"How have you been?" Shad asked politely.
"Between a thought and a scream," Sheik flashed, "But it would be useless."
Shad smiled. "Ah, ever yourself," he remarked with a nod of his head. He looked curiously over to Link and smiled, a very soft smile that Link imagined looked almost weary. "And you are?"
"Oh, my name's Link," he answered with a curious blink.
"Good to meet you," Shad answered, and they shook hands. Kamo just stood there wet as a noodle, looking sunkenly at Link. Shad noticed this and it became a bit awkward. "Well, it was good to see you, Sheik," Shad nodded.
Sheik and Link watched their retreating forms- Link curiously wondering why Kamo had looked at him so sullenly, and Sheik with his body on the precipice of balance, held by a red thread- and Sheik suddenly spoke, with a manic energy in his tone of voice. "Shad is a scholar- everything is 'good' with him," he observed with a certain tone.
Link looked at him and smiled. "He seems nice. Who was that guy with them?"
"Which one? The blonde?"
"Yeah, nobody said anything about him."
Sheik paused, and his expression read mild curiosity- eyebrows raised a bit. "He's a writer." He seemed to crack a smile. "Writers never have friends for long."
Link paused in awe, his mouth contemplating, pondering on the mysterious truth of that as a song full of bright city lights and whirring starstruck nights played joyously on the stereo overhead. How could Sheik see through so much?- he had eyes that looked into the core of everything, that penetrated into empty space- and seemed to live in a world separate, full of intrigue and erratic circumstance. Forget theory- this was it, plain and clear.
But then Link realized that his throat was dry. "Let's get something to drink!" he suggested sunnily, so the two of them made their way over to some kinda communal watering hole or another. Low lights moving, and the feeling of breathy space howling abovehead- a banshee scream, inaudible to mortal ears for pitch. The rose in the atmosphere bloomed on full.
They were sitting around on cursory stools at the lounge when a woman with long dark hair and the heavy, sad eyes of a saint reached over Link to get a drink. Seemed a normal enough happening; her thin white wrist underneath his nose, her eyes not falling on him- but she noticed him and got embarrassed. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she fumbled, hurrying to an apology with a light laugh that made a bright contrast to her darkness, the sensual heaviness of her hair and eyes and mouth.
"Oh, no problem," Link answered, smiling, "I like your perfume, anyway."
She paused and smiled, quirked her head a bit. "Well, thank you," she answered, smiling right back rosily. There was a silent moment that was all smiles and quiet roses, and she looking at Link with wanting eyes.
She had already gone when Link turned back to Sheik with a topic on his tongue to find Sheik looking at him with lidded, smiling eyes. Link laughed. "What?" he asked, quizzically.
"Ah, you're that way," Sheik answered with a teasing tone, mysteriously.
"What?- What way?" Link asked breathlessly, feeling under accusation, almost knocking over his drink as he flailed.
Sheik leaned in his seat as though to dimiss it; but then looked at Link dead-on. "You're good with women, hm?" he answered, the rhythm in his words making the mark exactly.
Link smiled sheepishly. "Oh- I don't know," he answered, in all honesty. He had always noticed he made friends with women easily, but he didn't think of himself as any kind of Methuselah, not a lady-killer by any stretch of the imagination. He didn't really even think that was such a good thing to be, anyway...
Sheik's eyes just turned a shade and he seemed to consider it in the strangest way; Link wondered if Sheik was thirsty- or if maybe he wasn't drinking because of the face mask.
The night spun off in an empty impression; things happened too rushed to be remembered, memories didn't even have a chance to be born, busily hurried off from the womb- only recalled by a series of colors and feelings in the dark, moving like a picture show. Link was half-buzzed and his feet were dreaming- he half-stumbled out of the place when the it was over, wondering how to get home.
Sheik and Raven were beside him, along with a surly chick who was brooding under Raven's arm. Raven was chattering about something and the girl snapped nastily at anything he said- he'd say the sky was blue, she'd refute it for the sake of her honor. Under her bob and her heavy mascara she was just itching to get back to her apartment, but he had other plans.
"Aw, c'mon, babe, let's go back to my place," Raven was pleading with her.
"Nah, I gotta go home and change the cat's litter," she answered, yawning loudly. Link thought she must be having a hard time or something- thought maybe she had some secret sadness in her life; she must, if she was acting that way.
"Aw, come on, fuck the cat!" Raven scoffed, turning his head, his eyes sharpened.
She slipped out from under his arm. "Well, I told my mother I'd be home at one," she reasoned, "I can't just be home tomorrow morning, what the fuck do you think I am?"
"Fuck your mother!" Raven answered; Sheik let out a loud laugh and Raven began to smirk. Link couldn't help but giggle a little, but the girl shot him such death eyes that he quickly stifled it behind fake coughing.
"Fuck my mother? I bet you guys all think you're really funny," she spat.
"Come on- we'll call your mother and set things straight- and forget about the cat- Sheik, tell her- shouldn't she come back to my place?" Raven countered, turning to Sheik on a half-pivot.
Sheik paused and shrugged. "Sure, she should," he answered, turning away toward the street, his silhouette lean and hungry under the lonely lamp. There was no sound in the street except for their voices echoing off the brick.
The girl's mouth tightened and she glared at Sheik, trying to burn through his figure which was in fact impenetrable. "Why should I listen to him? He's a misogynist," she answered, her words stewing in thick, swampy negativity.
Link sent a questioning glance toward Sheik. A misogynist? What did that mean? Sheik hated women...? It didn't seem that way, but then again, these people knew him better. Sheik's only response was a half-manic stare toward the street and a light laugh.
Raven struggled for another thought- strategy failed, gotta move to plan B...he looked toward Link, standing innocent by the curb and looking at an empty soda can. "Well, how bout the kid- hey, should she come with me?" Raven rejoined as Link kicked the can toward Sheik, beginning a small soccer game.
"Huh? Uhm...I guess, why not? It could be fun," Link answered through a blonde block of bangs.
Raven and Sheik laughed- Raven's laugh booming and assertive, Sheik's dark and full, small and seismic. "Man, Link, you're funnier than I thought," Raven answered, getting his name right for the first time that night.
The girl looked at Link with a new dark thought forming, and Link and Sheik went back to their game of soda can soccer- looking like two young favela kids. "Come on, let's go call your mom," Raven offered, gesturing toward the girl.
"'Let's'? What do you mean 'let's'? You want to make my ma worry to death?" she snapped.
"Aw, you shut your mouth," Raven answered, now sounding verifiably pissed. All he wanted to do was lay this chick and she was makin' it so fucking hard!- "Thank God for the kid!" he called to the street, whooping loudly- the hollow clank of the can clattering in the background.
"Thank God? And why should I listen to that kid anyway? He's barely outta kindergarten," she laughed bitterly, sending a glance to Link that was strangely hot.
"You're such a bitch," Raven dismissed, slipping his arm around her waist; didn't work though, she smacked him off with a vengeance. "Alright, catch you faggots later," he waved off, and him and his girl stalked off toward the nearest payphone.
"Goooooooaaaaallll!- oh, see ya, Raven!" Link turned hurriedly to say, interrupting a cheering dance to wave at him. Someone from a window above groaned, "oh my God, shut up," and Link yelled "sorry" back.
He turned back to Sheik with a broad smile, to which Sheik couldn't help but laugh- Link was angel down, but he was also so vibrant and sunny, for what reason he couldn't tell. "So, you're a misogynist? Jeez Sheik, I don't think I can even be your friend knowing this," Link grinned.
"Do you have a permit for this hareassment?" Sheik answered, swiftly blocking the can and sending it back in one quick movement.
Link laughed. "Watch this- it's like karate," he said, beginning to demonstrate the beginnings of a complicated kick- which totally missed. Sheik clapped softly in the darkness and Link sent a surly glance toward him. "Well, whatever- penalty kick!"
"What do you mean by that?"
"I don't know," Link laughed, "Either way, I'm going to win."
"Win? I don't believe there are any rules- without the structure there's no way," Sheik answered, "And what are you playing for?"
"What do you mean? Like a prize?" Link asked, thoughtfully, kicking the can back. A boyish smile overtook his face, he said, "Gee, I dono- why don't you let me see your face?"
"Cute," Sheik answered, kicking the can back.
Link shrugged and smiled. "Oh well. What time is it?"
"Quarter to one."
"Aw, crap," Link answered, his foot tentative on the can. He paused thoughtful.
"You have to be home?" Sheik asked, folding his arms in a graceful, light way, standing contrapose with the cars and the curb backing him.
Link shrugged. "I mean, I just don't know if they'll close up or anything," he answered. Sheik's glance was questioning, so Link continued. "The latest I came home was like 1:30 and they almost locked me out."
Sheik's odd balance teetered, and the foot that was poised inches above the ground set firm on the sidewalk; "We'll go then," he said, starting to walk as his posture corrected itself into slick straightness.
"Okey," Link answered, barely audible but for the stillness of sound, and kicked the can onto the grating of a babbling gutter. The silence pervaded and stretched a feline hand luxuriously down these back roads; but the dark stillness of 12 'o' clock midnight was already lifting, transforming into lonely purple.
Link could barely see Sheik ahead of him, marked his path by his small-sounding footsteps; in beats of lamplight Sheik's whole colors would be illuminated into being, but when the darkness swallowed them up and the lines of character were inhaled into vagueness and left to a half-dim memory, he could only make him out by the low red of his eyes and the odd hunger of his figure. Silence was the mode for moments that seemed like swallowing hard- and Link could almost feel the spirits of things moving around him.
"I guess we'll get a taxi?" Link asked out loud, not liking the silence- his voice breaking through the dream quiet like the neon of lightning.
"Sure, a taxi would be fine," Sheik responded mildly, ahead of him a bit.
Link paused. "Hey, Sheik," he started, tentatively- but the sentence faded into the headlights of a truck coming down the avenue.
"Hmm?" Sheik answered...the tones of his voice warm like copper bells even through the cloth. Link was surprised he could hear him from behind the mask.
They were heading toward the commercial street, toward the center of the city; there would be a taxi to hail from there- even if a guy was on a break, eating or sumthin, he'd take a passenger at an hour this dead. Cold was only a hint but there was a feeling of snow all around Link's limbs, and he felt a bit dizzy. Maybe it was alcohol digesting- maybe it was the odd way he was feeling.
"Oye," Link said in surprise as a black cat jumped out from the darkness of an alley and made a death lunge between his ankles to get at some garbage near him. Link wondered if Sheik was still expecting an answer; probably not; Link was taking inventory of what he had actually meant to say; again, probably not.
The street lights were coming closer together as they moved down the street, weaved past a music school and a group of guys talking at the corner. There was a little more noise. The few people they passed gave them odd looks- angel blonde and shadow child, Friday's children, but with the touch of another world.
"Hey, Sheik," Link started again, with an inquisitive tone- a tone that said that maybe he was looking to see if this would really work.
"Yes?" Sheik replied.
"Doesn't this place ever make you lonely?" Link asked, looking up to the iron sky.
Sheik paused and turned to Link, eyes hard at first- but then turning to a considerate shade. "Everywhere is lonely," Sheik answered, from his mouth the culmination of a thousand years of wisdom.
Link's mouth turned and he considered it. "I guess you're right," he finally answered, smiling. "But I guess it matters more on who's looking at it. It depends more on whether or not the person is lonely. I guess."
The pause between speech was filled with stars and darkness. Sheik's voice came up from someplace that was hidden; "A person stands on the precipice and in front of the mouth of a cave," he started, his eyes cutting through matter. "The individual feels the wind at his back and comes under the heat of his life but can see nothing. A man is a blind horse. And yet," he continued, with a slight pause on the stopping point, his eyes lifting- Link waited like a child in awe for the next part of the story, "you'll reach out for something and your hand will slip through; you'll look for a friend among a mob that turns out to be faceless. Is it lack of facility in communication? or is it that bones and blood are not a guarantee of similarity?"
Link looked over Sheik's frame, receding back into the smoky shadows, and swallowed- feeling that what he'd said was true, but that it was reflective in some of the sadder things he'd seen with his eyes. Was it hopeless then? He'd never felt it was hopeless, and he didn't think that Sheik would feel that way either. The white lights of all-night joints were beating fast into his mind. "That's so sad," Link mused, looking softly at the concrete.
"But it's not impossible," Sheik said, his voice now softer, his eyes looking windily into the plane of the street ahead. Then he turned his head quickly to the side to glance at Link. "There's always a chance at light."
"Yeah?" Link answered, with a smile. "I always thought so." His smile quirked up at the end, crooked and catty. "I didn't think you would abandon me to pessimism."
"Of course," Sheik agreed, "Watch your step there."
"What? Oh, sheesh," Link answered, stepping gingerly over this monstrous eruption of concrete in the sidewalk- a tree root or a pipe or something must have been pushing the block up. "The question, I guess, is what's the light?" He walked in a sort of spinning dance ahead that Sheik regarded with interest- a free type of windy movement. A streetlight was made into a stage light behind him and he turned backwards, walking with his face to Sheik.
"Who knows?" Sheik answered, shrugging- eyes strong- "It could be a person. Could be a thing. Or, the perfection of yourself."
"Some people, it's animals, even," Link said with an excited look on his face, "Like, once, I knew an old man who always walked his dog, ate at the table with his dog- he really loved his dog- I guess that it was keeping him from feeling alone. Isn't that funny? Or this woman who always read books, lived with her books. Maybe it's just harder to love people?"
"Love's odd out," Sheik responded, eyes full of energy.
"I don't know," Link shrugged simply, "Seems nice."
"Seems so," Sheik answered teasingly.
"What? What now?" Link asked, but the way he said it was devoid of irritation- just pleasantness, a smile.
But the conversation was different as they neared the center of town. When they were about a block away, with the train station, the gare grande, looming round in sight, when they found a taxi slowly trudging down the street. As if at the gun of the referee, Link broke into a pointed jog, flailing his arms and yelling for the taxi to stop. The taxi driver, bewildered by this crazy kid in the corners of the night, slowed to a stop in the middle of the street. Link ran lightly over to the driver's window, laughing at something Sheik said along the way- that light, airy laugh- and then tapped on the window. The driver rolled it down. "Hey! Can you take me?" Link asked, as if the driver wouldn't. The driver, confused as shit, nodded, his eyes like saying- "...yes?"- and Link smiled broadly. "Oh, good!" he answered, then whirled back to Sheik and joined him back on the sidewalk.
"The guy says he'll take me. Are you sure you don't want- ?"
"I'm fine," Sheik waved off, leaning on invisible air. Link didn't bother to ask where he lived, or how far away- something in him knew Sheik knew what he was doing.
"Okay," Link answered, smiling. He laced his fingers together and stretched, catlike. "Do you want to uhm meet up tomorrow? To do something?"
For a moment, the air was odd. A pause fell between them that Link felt shouldn't be there. Confused, he looked up to Sheik's face- where the look in his eyes had completely changed. No longer warmth or energy. Now, there was only a hard- scrutiny- or what was that? A look that cut like a flint edge, that regarded Link as though he were a piece to be weighed- that judged, suspicious and acidic. Link shrank back in confusion, sort of wishing he hadn't asked at all.
The look lasted too long. Link was about to ask him what was wrong, or else just say forget it and go to the taxi- but there was a turn of Sheik's head. As though he had come to some conclusion, he answered, "Alright," and shifted the balance of his body.
How confusing. What was that look for? Link nodded and let out a short laugh and Sheik's demeanor changed back completely with ease, as though it was only a skin he needed to shed. They decided on a place to meet and a time, and Link gave him a sunny smile and a wave and ran back to the taxi. On the drive home, he looked at the white street lights that drew shadows and reflections on his face with a buzzed, tired smile- confident in them, and in the spinning tunnels of the night that blew wind onto the street and carved dreams for the sleepy morning.
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
A/N: Thanks for reading and stick around!