He tastes of metal and alcohol, of something that reminds Sheik of the way sunlight dapples the loamy earth in Ordon and the way bird feathers look when the wind is blowing just right. His eyes flash open as Sheik presses his tongue deeper, closer, hears him moan as those slivers of dark sapphire widen, and he shivers. He shivers at the way his hands are hot, dragging across his skin and down his back with a slow sureness that Sheik relishes, at the way his breath is hungry, mingling with his own until Sheik cannot tell who is breathing in or out. His fingers fist in the back of his hair, locks rough, ragged, and his other presses against his navel, cold skin against flesh so hot it sears his every nerve.
Sheik drives his hips down in one hard, rough thrust and the reaction is immediate.
He's never felt quite so alive as then, thoughts so scattered by the taste and feel of this Hylian that all he can think of is pressing closer, closing the space between them and fucking until neither of them can remember anything but the other.
Their mouths part with a suddenness that leaves him gasping, trying to get coherent enough to tell him more, to tell him not to stop because that will break him in so many ways he can't name that—
"Fuck—"
His hands are finally beneath Sheik's jeans, drawing a string of unintelligible curses from his lips as the Hylian's mouth drags along his throat, teeth scraping his flesh. Sheik's fingertips press deep into his flesh, scratch ragged lines down his stomach as he curls them around the Hylian's belt. He's cradling the Hylian's body to him, holding on tightly, desperately, feels the press of him so acutely it makes him want to cry, weep, sob.
And then the Hylian stops.
The Hylian is trembling, and so is he. They are breathless and Sheik's heart is breaking, and the Hylian has his forehead resting against Sheik's collarbone. Still, unmoving.
"…Were you lying?"
"Fuck—why would I—that's your question?" The Hylian releases a breath, so hot and hungry it sends another bout of shivers racing down his spine as the Hylian's hands move again, one sliding up to rest between his shoulder blades, against the bandages lashed tightly there, the other deeper against his spine, sliding down and drawing a low moan from his throat as his fingers tease and—
"I'm not—"
"How do you want me to do this?" The Hylian's voice is hoarse, throaty, and rumbles throughout Sheik's frame like thunder.
No. Lightning.
Quick, devastating.
"Don't really give a shit, just—"
A prayer leaves the Hylians lips, hurried and mumbled and he stands, Sheik clutched in his hands, cradled to his body—Sheik lets out a noise of shock, one that very quickly turns into a different sound because the Hylian pushes him against the table behind them and is tearing Sheik's pants off with his fucking teeth and—
"You're praying already?" It's all he can do, to keep his composure, though he pants the question out like he's been running or some shit. And the attempt to keep himself together shatters and falls apart immediately after the words leave his mouth because the Hylian's tongue slides against his bare thigh, up higher and his breath is scalding as he presses it—
His spine arcs at the contact, fingers clenching and scrapping at the chilled metal beneath him as the Hylian chuckles, groans into him.
"Praying I'm not gonna wake up." The Hylian murmurs, orbs half closed when he finally glances up at Sheik.
And he can still feel the Hylian's tongue, his breath, his body still shaking, twitching, but Sheik smirks anyway and reaches out, catching his hair and tugging him forward.
He's fucked already. He's gone too far to let this play out nicely, to go back—and he doesn't want to. Can't bring himself to focus on the guilt that that brings, or the knowledge of the consequences. As terrible as he knows it is, it is about fucking time he got this. Something like this.
Sheik slides to the edge of the table, traces his fingers down the marks he's left on the Hylian's skin with one hand, captures his chin with his other.
The Hylian has made a complete mess of him already—and still is. He slips his fingers up, into Sheik slowly, deliberately.
"Your place?" Sheik murmurs, pressing himself into the Hylian's touch as he nips at the Hylian's mouth, dancing away from his tongue as he teases him.
"I've got you naked right here. That can wait until we're done." And the Hylian's belt comes undone, finally snaking free of his waist and clattering to the floor. Sheik grips his wrists, pulls his hands up above his head and drops off the edge of the table, legs wrapped firmly around the Hylian's waist.
They kiss long, hard, the sort of slow, ravenous kiss that melts Sheik's bones and burns his senses out.
He wants to forget ever not feeling this way.
"Just fuck me."
The Hylian lets out a hum, a smile on his mouth—
And Sheik stops thinking.
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Good morning. Evening? Afternoon? Well, it doesn't matter.
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The room is dark, and the air is cold. Her keys sound far too loud as she drops them onto the counter, sliding out of her heels and sighing as she finally relaxes.
Home has always been cold, though.
Too big, too empty, growing up. Parents gone, traveling, busy with work, busy with friends. Tetra had taken after them in that regard. She gets postcards, sometimes. Exotic beaches and fierce smiles, meaningless drivel inked on the back.
She's exchanged a large house for a large apartment, emptiness for loneliness. She doesn't mind the quiet, or the stillness…she just thinks it might be nice to come home and see…
It was harder than it should have been to turn her thoughts away from that.
She'd been worried, that morning. Two days gone, feeling exhausted when she'd woken. But with only twenty dollars missing from her purse…
She flicks the kitchen light on, wincing at the harsh light that flooded the room.
There are three missed calls on her phone. Malon, wondering if she is free Friday night. Malon again, asking if she is free Sunday morning. And Groose asking if she is absolutely sure that she is not—
There is a paper lying on the counter.
She reaches out slowly, brushes her fingertips against it as if it is on fire. But it doesn't disappear, or fly away, or whatever she had been expecting.
She pulls it over to her slowly, feeling the pounding in her chest acutely.
She knows that handwriting.
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I am going to ask three things of you.
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He sort of freezes when he wakes up, feeling the shift of a naked body against his, because the movement is slight and languorous and the most sensual thing he thinks he's ever felt, and for a moment he doesn't even know where he is let alone who he's with.
He moves his head down slowly, praying he isn't disturbing his companion and feeling his face burn as he begins to recall the previous night—
—fuck.
Ruby orbs, glittering dangerously in the dim light bathing the room, smirk at him, dipping down to press a kiss to his mouth.
The kiss doesn't come, and he lets out a hoarse whine when his companion slides atop him, warm and soft and instead slipping a finger past his lips, teasing his tongue.
"…Thank you." It brings him no small amount of satisfaction to hear his companion's voice is just as hoarse as his own. Since the moment he'd first seen him, blonde hair lit by the neon lights flashing in the club, knuckles bruised and bloody and crimson orbs dancing with something Link thinks was close to malice, he had been completely in charge of their encounter, even when he was begging for—
Link's thoughts crash to a halt when his companion presses down, opening his mouth and slipping his tongue inside in a movement so smooth that—
And shit. Link's hands are still firmly entangled above his head, tied to the bed frame with whatever the fuck they'd decided to use last night. He pulls at it anyway, draws a low laugh from his companion at his struggles.
"For what?" He asks, breathless, when he finally pulls away.
His companion presses his wet finger to his nipple, gaze flickering down, and Link lets out a noise of protest because they are trying to have a conversation but—
Oh.
"Said you weren't lying. Weren't last night, aren't now. Not something you're at fault for." It is harder to say it than he'd thought it'd be, to keep his thoughts in order and not just beg for another round when his companion is looking like the sexiest thing on the entire fucking planet literally on top of him.
But he shivers, leans down and presses the full length of his body against Link's and fuck—
He'd taken the bandages off only after they'd gotten back to Link's apartment, and that had freaked Link out because how in the Three was he supposed to go about having sex with him?! Despite his companion's claim to 'not give a fuck', Link had been terrified of upsetting him.
Well, for as long as it took to see him naked because whether or not his body was 'right', he was still the most attractive person Link had ever seen and basically any and all attempt at rational thought had fled at that point.
"You've got my hopes up, Hylian."
"Will you untie me now?"
"If you beg for it hard enough." The chill that runs down Link's spine at the tone of his voice, the smirk on his mouth, the way his hands are sliding down Link's chest—
He thinks he might be in love.
"Gonna have to make me."
"With pleasure."
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You don't have to do them if you don't want to.
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Sheik isn't very interested in saying goodbye, especially when he doesn't know when he'll get a chance to come back. But he forgets that he's waiting for the opportunity to slip away every time the Hylian looks at him with those eyes and smiles, brushes his hand gently against his back or elbow or kisses him on the forehead and asks what he wants to eat, and that no, he isn't a satisfactory answer this time.
So he waits until the Hylian is asleep, naked and hair damp from a shower that had ended only when the water ran too cold to bear and a plethora of rainbow band-aids—his sisters', he'd claimed—covering the more vicious of the scratches Sheik had given him.
He rummages around the complete mess they'd made of the apartment—trying hard to ignore the tremors that run down his spine remembering all of it—and eventually finds the Hylian's wallet.
The Hylian's name is Link, according to his ID. Two years younger than Sheik is, than Zelda is.
Sheik copies down Link's address, name, and telephone number on a stolen piece of paper shaped like a kikwi, and leaves a message on a second.
He is far past the point of just being selfish, and he knows there will be the Dark Realm to pay for it later, but—
He'll take it. Even if it only lasts for another night, another hour.
He barely makes it home in time.
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But I think you will. Before all of that, though, I want you to know that I am sorry.
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Sheik, Link learns, keeps odd hours. Sometimes he will stay a few hours, a night. Never more than a day or two, and those long visits only ever occur sporadically, on weekends or the tail end of weekdays. Sometimes he will show up in the dark hours of the evening, when Link is struggling to keep himself awake waiting. Sometimes he comes in the morning, other times he shows up at the bar they met at, smiles that almost-cruel smile of his and bothers Link until his shift ends. Most of the time they speak through texts and calls—far more frequent then his visits, if shorter.
And Link doesn't mind. Not about the strange way they meet, because Sheik is always so very pleased to see him, genuinely happy to be there with him. He's never seen that honest of an expression on anyone, and seeing it on Sheik—secretive, sly Sheik—warms him more than he could ever say.
Because Sheik hates speaking of himself, his life outside of Link and his past. It's all Link can do to get a straight answer from him about what he likes and dislikes. But he'll let slip little things, not seeming to realize he's done so, and Link never presses the matter—how can he?
"Why a bird?" Link asks, fingers brushing the small of Sheik's back, and the tattoo nestled there, as he presses a kiss to the side of his neck.
The bird is stylized, a collection of sharp angles and gentle curves, and shimmers gold in the light of the candles Link had lit earlier—because romance, he'd insisted, when Sheik had questioned it. Sheik lifts a hand, presses it to his chest, where a second tattoo rests—a stylized black eye, a red tear dripping from its base, disappearing into his wrappings.
"…She wanted one. I got the Eye." He murmurs, and turns to face him, silencing Link with a kiss. His fingers are warm, as they slide across Link's jaw, hold his face close.
And Link lets him keep him like this, making sure he won't speak of 'her'.
Sheik has brought 'her' up a few times, only ever in passing. And Link knows Sheik cares deeply about this mysterious woman, though he never says so. That she is why he is gone so often, so long.
"Are you going to stay for dinner?" Link asks, gently pressing Sheik down onto the bed. Sheik stretches his arms above his head, lips twitching upwards as he cocks his head to the side.
"'Cuz I've already got it in the oven and I'm not gonna let it burn, not 'cuz I'm—" He starts to blurt out, realizing exactly where Sheik's mind is headed. Sheik cuts him off with the thing he likes to do with his tongue because it flusters Link so much before sitting up, ruffling his hair.
"No sex tonight, unfortunately. It hurts, and it's gross, and I can't even stand looking at it." Sheik growls, and Link gets off of him, trying not to pout.
He forgets, most of the time, that Sheik is physically female. Sheik does not speak of or think of himself as a woman, and neither does Link. But it is Sheik's policy to not do anything when he is on his period. Which Link doesn't really mind, except that Sheik never tells him about it until Link thinks they are actually going to do something. Which sucks.
"There are surgeries for that."
He doesn't say it out of anger, or exasperation, or to be mean. When they'd first started seeing each other, it had scared Sheik. That Link would stop treating him like he was who he is because of it. And Link knows just how intensely Sheik hates it.
Sheik's eyes soften—he knows why Link asked. He leans forward, kisses him gently.
"I couldn't do that to her."
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I'm not a very good person, am I?
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"Stop ducking your head. You're an adult, Link."
"Why are we watching this?!"
"You said I could pick the movie." Sheik purrs, wriggling closer and turning Link's head to face the television.
Link had asked his boss what he should do for a date night. She had suggested movie night.
Worst idea ever.
Ever.
"Sheik—!"
"There is nothing on that screen worse than what we've done on this very couch, this very week." Sheik says matter-of-factly, and presses his mouth to his throat, hands somewhere they probably shouldn't be.
Midna has made him watch more porn than Link cares to admit, and he is used to being with others while watching it—because he has some of the most fucked up friends ever, but—
Watching that, which is on an entirely different level from what Midna likes—which is very impressive because she is fucked up and this is what Sheik likes—with his significant other, however, is just awkward.
Mostly because he keeps imagining the two of them in those positions and Farore. Just...Farore.
"That's—"
A barrage of screaming and moaning from the set cuts him off, and Sheik chuckles when he turns red.
"—Different." Link mutters, and Sheik shimmies his pants down, looking so very satisfied with himself that Link can't help but lean forward and kiss him.
Sheik has the best expressions, Link thinks. When he thinks Link isn't watching, or is too busy with something to pay attention…he either looks like the most adorable thing in Hyrule or the sexiest.
Seeing it makes Links' heart beat so hard it hurts.
"How so?"
"'Cuz it's with you."
Sheik goes still for a moment, head bowed and hair obscuring his face.
And then he lets out a string of curses and stands on unsteady legs, hopping away from Link as if he is on fire.
As if Link is the fire.
He catches Sheik's wrist, pulls him down onto his lap, and holds him close despite the squirming. If Sheik really wanted to get away, he'd be gone.
Sheik turns his head, face red, and catches Link's mouth with his.
And bites. Hard.
"I think I love you." There is blood dribbling from his lips, an almost-fear in his orbs, and Link cannot breathe.
"And I know I can't do this to you and that it's unfair but—"
"I love you, you know." Link whispers, resting his forehead against Sheik's.
"And there's nothing you could ever do to change that."
"Is that a challenge? Give me time, Link." And his words are bold, sarcastic and harsh, but his voice is something different. Scared, desperate. Miserable.
Link smiles, leans back into the couch, taking Sheik with him.
"Something's been bothering you for a while. Whatever it is you need from me, Sheik, I'll give it if I'm able."
Sheik is quiet for a moment before lifting a hand to his mouth and staring at the blood staining his fingertips.
"…I'll hold you to that."
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But I love you. And again, I'm sorry for that.
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And Sheik does not return.
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There is something I would like you to find.
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The box is nothing special. An old shoe box of hers, covered in duct tape and worn with use. Sheik is spelt out in messy, jagged ink on the top of it.
She hadn't even known his name, she realizes.
She doesn't know how she's missed it for so long. The box had only been tucked beneath her bookshelf, in the far back, where the note had said. And when she cleans, she cleans everything.
There is a smart phone inside, along with its charger. A small jewelry box containing a handful of piercings and a sticky note that says 'ASK' in all capital letters. Some notes clipped together with a paper clip, strings of numbers and phrases that make no sense to her. A thin silver band, a pocket knife, a thick roll of sheet music tied tightly with a couple rubber bands for a lyre, though the instrument is nowhere in sight. A thicker wad of bandages…and a box of condoms.
This is his entire life, she realizes.
The phone suddenly lights up, flashing.
Low battery, and an incoming text.
She pulls it and the charger out carefully, and checks the screen as she plugs it into a wall.
I will call the fucking police if you don't let me know you're alright by tonight.
From someone named Link. The rest of it is cut off, too long to fit into the notification box. She swipes, and a password screen pops up.
She hesitates for a long moment before typing in a year.
The year.
She realizes she is shaking, when the screen dims and then flashes to the home screen. She does not know what it is she will find, what it is she is expecting.
She wonders if there are any photos, and before she can completely register a folder titled 'ZELDA HERE' she taps on the photo icon.
And drops the phone, stifling a shriek of surprise.
She isn't sure whether she is more surprised by the naked pictures, or the fact that the man in them is very attractive. Either way, it takes her a moment before she picks the phone up and resumes looking through them.
There are exactly one hundred and fifty photos on the phone, most of them of the man. But he isn't alone in all of them.
He is…her. In a way. But his eyes are a brilliant, bloody red, and his smile far crueler. And there is something masculine about him, though he has her curves. Her body.
He wears bandages around his chest in some of the pictures, nestled against the other man. And though his expressions vary from absolutely wicked to annoyed, there are some in which he looks content, genuinely happy. Some in which the other man has a huge, goofy grin on his face and is taking photos of the two of them when Sheik is asleep.
She wonders how he deals with it. With her body. With caring for—sleeping with—the man. She wonders how the man saw Sheik. Sees him, perhaps.
But…it explains the condoms.
Did that mean she'd…?
She closes out of the photos as quickly as she can, unwilling to let herself think that far, and taps on the folder with her name on it.
There is only an app inside, one she's never seen before—but she doesn't play with her phone like Malon does. She barely even uses the thing.
When it loads, there is a long list of videos. Hundreds of them. Each numbered, dated, going back only around six months.
She lets out a slow breath and clicks on the first one.
There is nothing to see for a moment, and then a brilliant flash of movement and light nearly blinds her. She winces, but does not look away.
She's scared to.
"Shit—I almost dropped it. Sorry. But I've redone this too many times and I'm not doing it again."
And there he is. Or, his eye, anyway. He mutters another curse and the camera zooms out.
"To be clear, I bought the phone myself. I've been stashing money since—well, you know. I am mooching off your wireless though. Hooked it up myself and everything, which I'm very proud of, because the stupid shits didn't suspect a thing. Um, sorry, I guess. But I'd rather not write this down. I want you to be able to see me. Hear what I'm gonna say. Since I can't meet you in person, this is the closest thing to it."
He sounds so nervous…and his voice is so different from hers. If she hadn't already seen him…she'd think he is a completely different person. A real stranger, not…whatever they are.
"I don't hate you. Well, I used to, but only for a month about the tattoo, and then you fixed it. Which I am eternally grateful for. I'm not—this is just the way I am. The way we are. It's not like I blame you for it. We didn't have a say in it."
He hesitates for a moment, and then he and the camera move—as if he is sitting down.
The roar of a passing car fills the video, and he does not move until the sound is long gone. He looks so very solemn, half shrouded in shadows and so dimly lit, orbs the only bright thing about him.
"I just…don't know where to start. Too little to say, too much to say. I imagine you'd feel the same…I know about you. About your life and what you do. All of that. I'm…awake, some of the time. I don't know how long, or how often. I can just…see what you see and shit. Not to be creepy or anything. I'm fucking terrified you're going to hate me. I've spent my whole life here, Zelda. In your head, I guess? For a really long time I didn't understand what was going on—you were just my entire world."
She is crying, she realizes.
"So, um, that's why those assholes from your school were so scared of you. You fell asleep in class one time and they figured I was you—my eyes weren't really red until we hit puberty, so for a while nobody could tell until I opened my mouth, that I was me. They said some stuff about you, so I beat the shit out of them. Which I also did to the guy who tried to grab you in—well, you get the picture. So I started figuring out what the fuck I was. Who I was. And—shit, I haven't introduced myself yet. Ah, sorry. I'm Sheik. Figured it made sense with the red eyes, to name myself after the Sheikah. Also, I was drunk, so that's a thing that I do that I know you don't like. But you don't get my hangovers, so please no bitching about that, because I get yours. Not that you drink that often. But…My battery's gonna die soon, shit. It's nice to meet me, Zelda. I hope one day I'll get to see you introducing yourself. Sleep tight."
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Please don't throw any of it out. I'll toss out your stupid stuffed Remlit if you do.
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"...drugs, so relax. But there was this one time I ended up in Kakariko…"
"…don't like to go far from here. Always scared you'll wake up somewhere strange and panic…"
"…how the fuck you tolerate him. Hair aside, he's an asshole. Funny, but an asshole, and he's so into you…"
"…favorite food in the world. I'd love to see your face if you eat the…"
"…Not really lonely. It's just weird missing somebody who barely knows you exist."
"…I hate your sister. She's kind of a bitch. No offense or anything…"
"...I hate being female. I'm gushing out my body weight in blood. Does it hurt this much for you?"
"…nightmare or something so I woke up with her flailing at me, so I punched her. That's why you were never invited back to…"
"…like fighting. I don't do it that often because of you, but I've taken lessons for just about everything. So I'm the reason we have a fantastic body, not your dumb diet shit."
"…I do fuck. I mean, you do too, but—shit, I mean, safe sex and all! Last thing I want is to get pregnant—to get us pregnant, however that works—shit, I think I'm going to vomit…"
"…Met this guy last night, and he didn't care. About me being…well. I didn't tell him, but it's hard to hide tits when you're half naked in…"
"…Have no problem with some make-up, but how the fuck do you deal with all of this shit? Look at it! There's…"
"…Before you freak out, we don't have any piercings. I sure as fuck want some, but that's it…"
"…How the fuck do you eat this shit, Zel? It's disgusting! It's green and smells like mold…"
"…I like to call this not snooping, because we put it away earlier. Yes, I'm the candy thief, ha ha."
"…Gotta be quiet. He's sleeping, but this is Link. Naked. Because I like making people uncomfortable and I know you're blushing. Also, he's gorgeous. You snoop through the pictures yet?"
"…I hide clothes in the dishwasher because you never use it, but Link lets me keep stuff at his place. Well, belts. Some scarves—I like wearing them, don't judge me. Multipurpose things, if you catch my drift…"
"…Found your porn today. Saving some stuff in your favorites that'll be much better reads than this soft shit…"
"…Just am. I'm fine with the body issue, besides your monthly bloodbath. Link doesn't care, and sex isn't an issue because most of the time I just want to fuck, but…"
She spends the whole night like that. Kneeling on the floor, cradling his phone in her hands. Weeping.
Until she reaches his final message, and his final video.
And she makes her decision.
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There is someone I'd like you to meet.
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"I've got to—"
"Calm down."
"If he's dead—!"
Midna rolls her eyes and grabs his hand, yanking him onto the couch with all the force her tall frame can muster—which is a huge amount. She is a beast in the guise of a woman.
"You got a text back, right?"
"Not from him! All it said was he's alright—if he's—"
And fuck, it is all Link can do to keep himself from shaking.
In the six months Link has known him Sheik has never gone more than a week or two between visits, and he always calls or texts every other day or so.
It has been three weeks since Link has last heard from him. He's barely slept the whole time. And a text had come through that morning, but…
"You've got to calm down, Link. The guy's probably got—"
A sharp knock on his door cuts Midna off, and Link is flying across the room and yanking the door open before she can stop him.
It is not Sheik waiting for him, but the woman standing in his doorway is…
She looks like him. If he really were a woman. Her blonde hair is shorter, falling just below her shoulders rather than her hips. Her eyes are just as brilliant as his, but they are a deep sapphire, not red. She wears a sweater and faded jeans, and besides a matching pair of aqua teardrops dangling from her ears, wears no jewelry.
She is beautiful, like he is.
Link knows immediately that this is the mysterious 'she' he always speaks of.
"Are you…is your name Link?" Her voice is what snaps him out of his comparison. She sounds absolutely nothing like Sheik. Feminine. Quiet. He draws in a shuddery breath.
"Y—yes."
She seems tense, but at his word she relaxes, if only a bit.
The slap catches him entirely off guard.
"What kind of boyfriend doesn't even ask his lover where he lives?! Or his last name, or his age, or—and you told him you love him!? And you claim to be worried sick?!" Her anger is sudden, absolute, and the burning on his face shocks a response from him.
"He doesn't like talking about himself."
"So?! It's your fault he's hiding! You let him think It was okay, or that you didn't care, and now he's too scared to even see you!"
Scared? To…
Farore…
"Link, let the woman in before she kills you." Midna is already pulling him away from the door. Link just stares, eyes wide.
"You might want to explain what's going on before you give him a heart attack, sweetheart." Midna says dryly, studying the woman intently. Link's fingers clench at his sides, relaxing and tightening sporadically as he stares. She hesitates a moment, peering into Link's apartment with an unreadable look in her blue orbs, and then steps inside quickly.
"I'm Midna. You apparently know who Link is. You would be…?"
"…My name is Zelda. I'm…Sheik's…sister." There is a quiet, subdued sort of hesitancy in her voice, but…
"I've never met the kid. Well, I've seen his ass, but that was an accident and Link kicked me out before I could say hello. He's very protective of him."
That draws a soft, weak sort of laugh from her.
"I don't think Sheik has ever needed protecting."
Link lets Midna take the reins. She leads them back to the couch, hands Zelda a bottle of water, pokes his back with her long nails until he registers the pain and forces himself to focus.
Zelda is sitting on the couch across from him—the couch was a corner piece. Sheik always sat in the corner part, wedged between either side. Zelda has elected to sit at the far end, pressed tightly against the arm.
"So…Sheik's…he's alright?" He finally asks, fingers a white knot in his lap. Zelda nods slowly, staring at the bottle in her hands.
"He's not hurt, or injured. But he's…scared. I don't…he thought I could explain better than he could. And that took a long time to prepare."
She swallows hard after she finishes, orbs wide. He doesn't know what to call the emotion there, but…
"…Should I be here?" Midna asks suddenly, reclining between the two of them as if she owns the couch. Link waves a hand dismissively.
"She has no intention of leaving either way." Link says quietly, catching the surprise in Zelda's eyes. And she looks relieved, that Midna is staying.
She probably doesn't want to be alone with him, he realizes. He wonders if that is because of her anger, or because of something Sheik has said.
"I don't mind."
"…What do you mean, it took a long time?" Link asks, after a brief moment of silence. He feels like he is going to break at the slightest word from her, as if he is cracked and ready to shatter. As if he is holding in a breath too big for his lungs, and can't draw in enough air to breathe.
"…I didn't…I've never met Sheik. I didn't know he existed, for sure, until a few days ago. He doesn't…he's not awake often."
What? He feels a slow trickle of ice run down his spine as she sets the bottle off to the side. Midna shoots him a look, wary and concerned. He struggles, to keep his mind from racing. From thinking.
She hesitates a moment longer, and then in a single, swift movement, pulls off her sweater.
There is a moment of silence that envelops everything. The sort that could break the world, with the weight it carries.
"Nice tits." And Midna's voice cannot even penetrate the quiet. Link can only stare.
At Sheik's tattoo.
Black curls, elegant even when splashed with the violent red of a tear, grace Zelda's chest. Not hidden by the white press of bandages. Rather, a fringe of lace surrounds the ink, a pale blue matching the material of her bra. She twists, arcing herself gracefully, and a golden bird flashes from the small of her back, wings outstretched, mimicking the flash of a golden loop pierced through her belly button.
"Goddesses..."
Link lowers his head slowly, covering his face with his hands. He feels the tears coming, and the last thing he wants is to cry, but…
"I—I'm not him. And he's not me, either. We just—this is what he couldn't tell you. And he asked me to, and I don't—" She sounds like she is going to cry, as she cuts herself off. Coils her arms about her frame as if to hold herself together.
And he remembers every time Sheik had shown up breathless and refused to let Link enter the bedroom until he was undressed and his clothes hidden. Every time Sheik had stolen his clothing and paraded around in it until he left. Every time he'd ignored the peek of women's clothes behind his dresser, or beneath his bed, or in his closet.
"...That's weird. You really know how to pick them, Link. So, like, is the boy toy going to remember what we're doing now?" Midna touches his temple as she speaks, gently drawing him back to the present.
"…I don't think so. He said he can, sometimes, but…I think he's consciously avoiding it, if he is awake right now."
"Does he not trust me?" Farore, he is crying. Voice already cracking beneath the weight of his tears, and the stinging in his eyes horrendous. He looks up, fists clenched in his lap, praying Zelda will have some sort of answer for him because—
And her gaze softens, warms and glitters with unshed tears as she stands, reaches out to him and pulls him into an embrace. He cannot bring himself to hug her back. To embrace a body he knows intimately—a body that is alien to him, with a stranger inside…
"You gave him something he's never had before, you know. He's…he's never had a friend, Link, let alone a lover. He thought that was impossible, to have a relationship with someone who could look at him and see him, not…not a girl, or…me, or anything…else. You have no idea how much that meant to him. How much it means to him." She adds the last bit too suddenly. Fearful he still thinks Sheik is dead, he supposes. He presses his face against her shoulder, breathes in a scent too flowery, too proper to be Sheik's.
"And I'm grateful, for that." He does not think she is lying. She does not like him. Perhaps because of what he and Sheik have done in a body that is partially hers, perhaps because she truly feels protective of a man she didn't know even breathed until a short time ago. But she is still sincere in her words.
"…Your brother told you what to say didn't he?" Midna drawls, and Link lets out a wet laugh, through his tears.
Sheik has always taken great care, when leaving messages for Link or telling him things, to say nothing more than what he means. He would never have told Link what Zelda had said, not in so many words. Not when something far simpler could have done.
"…Sheik talks about him a lot, but…no. He wanted me to meet Link. I think he's tired, of hiding. And I think that he truly wants us to get along."
"But—"Link starts, sitting back and looking up at her—perched on his lap, she is taller than he is. She carries such a different air about her than Sheik does, and he cannot—he does not understand it. How…
But he knows how much Sheik cares for her, and that is enough.
She lifts her hands hesitantly, her fingers flinching as she cradled his face in her hands. Not because she feared him, but…
"But what? How much do you think he felt he could ask of you? Do you realize what he's already demanded of you?! 'Love me for being something I physically can't be', 'accept me being difficult about who and what I am', 'trust me despite everything going on'—and you thought he could bear throwing me onto that? You make him feel guilty every time he looks at you because he's being so unfair—because he has no choice but to be so unfair—about your relationship. How can you ever be happy with him? With—"
"That is none of your business." He can't keep the sharpness out of his voice, and the violence in it shocks her, sends her hands skittering back to her sides and her body moving back, standing in front of him with cold, angry eyes.
"Do not misunderstand me. If he's not ready to talk, if he doesn't want to talk, then I won't push something that will hurt him, when he's so wound up in protecting you. You have no right to criticize what we do because we do it differently than what you want us to. He knows I trust him. I trust him to not keep something a secret that will hurt him, to tell me when the time comes to it, and to know I am always here when he needs me. And if you're telling me you're here because he doesn't trust me to that same extent, get out."
He is pointing at the door, eyes blazing and mouth set into a grim line. And though his outburst, the fury in his voice, the rage in his posture, seems to have frightened her, she stands strong. Jerks her head up, to better face him, and glares right back.
"I—"
"You're important to him. For that alone, I've let you in here. I don't care if you said he sent you in here—what do you think he'll do if you've said something he didn't want me to know? If you've crossed a line he never wanted me to cross?"
Her eyes flash again, and Link is crying anew, but they are frozen—standing, still, wrapped in their bubble of rage and pain and fear and…so many other things he can't name.
Midna is motionless, silent for once, and her orbs flicker between the two of them steadily.
Zelda moves again, her posture becoming more rigid. Prouder.
"…I don't know if he'll come. But we…switch…when the other one goes to sleep. You are a stupid bastard, and I don't see what he could possibly find appealing about you, but I can't leave until I do what he asked."
Midna is on her feet in an instant, sidling an arm around Zelda's shoulder with a grin on her face. Link sees the look she has—
"Midna, no."
"But—!"
"She can stay in the girls' room. Girls'. You're not allowed in." He says, because he is weak, because she is offering the slim chance of seeing Sheik, because Midna is forcing him to focus on something else.
"With boobs like that, neither is she. There's a difference between girls and women, Link." She shoots back, other hand on a cocked hip.
He is still upset, his emotions in too much of a whirlwind for him to fully process, but…he knows. That continuing to fight with Sheik's…sister, as she's called herself, will only make things worse.
"There's a difference between women and whores, Midna."
"Slut."
"Bitch."
"Jerk. You said it wrong! Yeah, I have to agree with the boy toy's sister. What the fuck does he see in you, if you can't even—shit, duck!"
He hears Zelda shriek as Midna tackles her to the floor, the empty water bottle he'd thrown pinging off of the television set and disappearing behind the DVD shelf.
"I hope you have better aim in the bedroom!"
He lets the comment slide. He doesn't have it in him to continue the banter. He's just…
If he can see Sheik, soon…
He starts the stove, begins boiling water without much thought. Behind him, Midna and Zelda settle onto the couch, talking quietly. He does not interfere.
Cooking calms his nerves, and talking will calm Zelda's. Answer Midna's pressing questions, keep her from calling Zant—or worse, Link's family—as she is usually inclined to do. Tension diffuser, she thinks. And most of the time—at least, when she calls Zant—it is. But his siblings are another matter entirely.
He has not even told his grandmother he is seeing someone. And he won't. Not without Sheik's permission. Not when Sheik is so private, with so heavy a weight on his shoulders. But Midna will have no such qualms, and that worries him.
"I can stay, tonight. But if he doesn't...wake up...I'll have to leave in the morning." Zelda says, cradling a steaming bowl in her lap as Midna accepts a second helping from Link.
"I've got the couch." Midna adds, and Link nods. Trying to contain the relief that pounds in his chest, despite the tension, the fear that still buzzes in his mind.
The questions, too. But those are not for her. Those are for Sheik, if Sheik will let him ask them.
"…Thank you." He knows it needs to be said, because if she had decided not to wait, to just leave...
But he still doesn't want to say it.
He wonders if Sheik knew he wouldn't get along with her. If he knew how she would be. Because she might not have known Sheik, but Sheik knew her very well. Knew her enough, cared about her enough, to…
He doesn't hate her, though. He can't, not when Sheik cares so much about her.
"…When I was ten, I woke up one morning at my grandmother's without knowing how I'd gotten there, or what we'd done the day before. It scared me, but when I went to tell her, she just kept going on and on about how quiet I'd been yesterday and what we'd done, how much fun we'd had. I never got on well with her, so I just…never told anyone about me not remembering it. I went along with it. I figured I was just tired. But…it happened again. And again. Sometimes I'd just notice things missing or moved in my room, other times I'd black out. And I never knew what happened during that time. I'd fall asleep and wake up a day or two later, or a few hours later, sometimes even a few minutes."
Zelda speaks slowly, deliberately, hands folded around her bowl, gaze locked on the steaming soup it contained.
"You never told anyone?" Midna asks, and she looks at Link again as she speaks.
She is just now, he realized, grasping the enormity of what it means, that Zelda and Sheik reside in the same body. How agonizing it is. How truthful Zelda is in saying she's never met Sheik.
"Who could I tell? My parents hold me to a strict set of standards I'm not allowed to break. My sister is the free one—she's off with Din-knows-who, running around Din-knows-where, and she couldn't care less what happens to me as long as she gets to do whatever it is she does. It's bad enough that I'd go missing from their view during those blackouts, what was I supposed to do—tell them I didn't know either? They'd think I was making up excuses, or trying to get attention, or worse, they'd believe me and—" She takes a deep breath, a shudder wracking her frame. Her words had gotten more frantic, run together with her panic and upset and—
Well.
"When I was really little, I had an aunt and a cousin. They weren't related by blood, they were just close family friends of my father's. And the daughter was a year or two older than I was. I remember them finding out she was sick. And I remember her never being home, looking so spaced out, like she wasn't even there. She wouldn't speak, or move, and when she did she was always so scared…eventually she and her mother went away. I couldn't—my parents want a quick solution to everything. They'd have chosen drugs for me, and I couldn't…even if I didn't want to black out, it was still something I could have that they couldn't take from me. And I know that sounds stupid, and I know it was childish of me, I just…"
"…I was really upset about it. And after I woke up from the next blackout, there was a bed of flowers on my windowsill. Tetra said I'd pitched a fit about wanting flowers, but they were the kind my cousin used to love…and I figured that whoever I was when I had the blackouts couldn't be that bad. So I just…kept it a secret."
"But what about his eyes? Yours are blue, and his are red."
Zelda hesitated, nodded.
"Now they are. They weren't…they weren't always. He said his used to be blue, and then purple, because the color wasn't strong enough. By that point I'd moved out, and…I don't socialize much."
That drew a laugh out of Link, before he knew what he was doing.
"He hates the color purple. Refuses to wear it."
"…He sounds more trouble than a PMSing chick."
"He's no less irritating than you are, not that you'd know." Midna scowled at him for that, huffing and crossing her arms over her chest.
"How do you deal with work? Or are you still going to school?" She asked, instead of responding to his comment. Zelda shrugged.
"He's usually pretty good about going in my place to classes. I don't…I help out sometimes, at a local law firm. My friend's uncle runs it. Ingo's a nice guy…he doesn't ask too many questions. But I think he knows, or suspects at the least."
"Want a drink? Link's got some pretty awesome shit, 'cuz of his job and all that."
"…Which is…?"
"Bartender." Link answers, nudging Midna's foot as discreetly as he can.
"Where?"
"Telma's Bar."
She recognizes the name. Her orbs widen, glance between he and Midna and down at her pocket before darting back up to him.
"And Sheik met you there?"
Telma's Bar is not a bad place to go. It is clean, decently priced, and orderly. It does not have a bad reputation in Castle Town. But Telma runs a place leaning more towards physical needs food and drink cannot solve, and the clientele are a little rougher, a little stronger, sometimes a little crueler than what most people are comfortable with.
Which explains why he'd met Sheik there.
"…He plays bouncer sometimes, now, for Telma. Sort of assaulted me that night."
Midna's eyes widen—and Link kicks her before she can say anything.
She'd had to cover his shift for him, that night. Tried to throw a couple of bottles at their backs, when they'd left. The last thing he wants Zelda to hear, on top of everything that's gone on that night, is that he'd fucked her brother within an hour of meeting him.
"Was he hurt? Or did he—did he hurt you? How'd you even end up…?"
She bombards him with questions, as does Midna. And Link does his best to answer. Because Zelda seems desperate to hear about him, to know more about him.
…And if he were in her shoes, he'd be doing the same. He can't blame her, or begrudge her, or refuse to answer her because of that.
She settles into his sisters' room at three in the morning, but he is awake until dawn, sitting in the hall beside the doorframe, unable to face the coldness of his bed. Of Sheik's things still scattered around, or of the pain and fear throbbing in his chest.
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And there is something I need you to accept. Please.
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He moans, rolling onto his stomach and stretching an arm out, searching for Link's warmth.
It registers, an instant before his outstretched fingertips meet nothing, that wherever he is smells strange—not of home, or of Zelda, or of Link.
He bolts up so quickly that he nearly hits his head on a low-hanging bird-fan-thing—seriously, who the fuck would even want that?!—and—
He's naked. In a stranger's room, in a stranger's bed, and the room is covered in—
Well. Not too bad. Star charts and maps, all sorts of related paraphernalia clutter the bookshelves that dominate three of the four walls. The other is glass—sliding glass, opening out into a balcony. A balcony with curtains tied back—and he's—
He rolls out of the bed, hits the floor with a painful thud. And finds his phone, plugged in and charging, on top of a pile of clothes.
Zelda's clothes.
And a note.
Look in a mirror. He's outside.
That meant…
And he remembers what he'd done. That he'd finally…well, not told her, but…
He doesn't know where the fuck he is. Does that mean she'd done it? Or that she'd freaked out and left, or—?
He gets up slowly, and pulls on her jeans, because he doesn't know where the fuck he is. Being naked is one thing, but this….
There is a mirror attached to the door of the room, covered in sticky notes with diagrams and scribbles. But there is enough clear room to see himself.
His hair is a mess, a nest of tangles and knots. Eyes baggy, red lines creased into his flesh.
There is metal glittering at his navel, his ears. Silver, blue from his ears and one of his own rings at his stomach. The one that had reminded him of Zelda, and…
It registers that his hair is far more wild than usual, and when he reaches a hand up, he realizes most of it is gone.
Fuck—
The door slams against the wall with more force than he'd intended, and he is throwing himself out—
—into—
Link's head snaps back into the wall behind him with a loud noise, and Sheik's teeth clack into each other hard, biting through part of his bottom lip, but—
"…Sheik?"
"What the fuck did she do to my hair?" His fingers are fisted in Link's shirt, and his face is pressed to Link's chest, and he is shaking because if he is here than that means—what?
Because anything could have happened and he can't…
Link's arms wrap around him slowly, but they tighten until he can barely breathe, and Link's face is pressed into his hair, and he is crying, and Sheik can't…
"Please don't—please don't leave again. I don't—I can't deal with that." Link's voice is shaking, and Sheik squeezes his eyes shut.
He hadn't…he hadn't realized what it means, to Link. And Link is crying…
He'd expected Link to be angry. Upset, hurt. But not…not this sort of hurt.
"She—she said that you were—that you didn't trust me. And you left because—"
Ooh, he hadn't thought of that either. Zelda is…well, she isn't stupid, but she jumps to conclusions. Sticks on things, once she gets them into her head. And he hadn't really said anything about Link, besides the fact that Sheik loved him and that he was very attractive. And the pictures. And the videos, but Link was asleep in them and…
"No!" The vehemence in his words makes Link flinch, and Sheik shudders because he has missed Link.
It took two weeks to prepare everything for Zelda to find, to work up the nerve to finally write the note. And for some reason, he hadn't woken up often, or for long, during that time. And when everything was done, and he'd just been lying there in her bed…
It had taken all of his self control to keep himself from standing, leaving, going to Link.
And now…
"It had to be her, Link. She's not my secret, I'm hers. If she didn't want to meet you, that was one thing. If she didn't want me to stay…" He swallows, hard. He can't finish that sentence.
Because if she had panicked, refused to want him to stay in contact with Link…
He presses as close to Link as he can get, slips his hands up and cradles Link's face in his hands. Kisses him hard enough to bruise, until his lungs are screaming from lack of air.
"It's not because I don't trust you, or because I hate you. Link, I love you, and I can't—"
"…You need her to be okay with it. I get it. I just—fuck, Sheik, I—"
"I am sorry. And I don't know what I'm apologizing for and what I'm not sorry for but, please, Link, I—" Link cuts him off. Crushes him to his chest, holds him.
And Sheik is so very grateful for that, because there is too much that needs to be said, and he doesn't know where to start, and Link is just content to hold him, and that is what he needs.
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…I don't know what I'll do if you don't. If you can't.
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When he wakes up, Sheik is asleep, slumped against him and legs tangled with Link's.
And for a moment, his relief is intense…until he recalls Zelda's words, that he wakes when she sleeps, and she wakes when he sleeps.
"Sh—Sheik? Sheik, hey—"
Red eyes blink open, and Link feels tears burning at the back of his eyelids again, because Farore…
A fist presses hard against his hip as Sheik pulls himself up, presses a kiss to the corner of his eye.
"I'm tired. But we should probably talk."
He nods, rests his forehead against Sheik's as he runs a hand through Sheik's hair.
Whatever had possessed Zelda to cut her hair had pissed Sheik off. He likes having his hair so long. Link has a feeling he'll beat himself up more about that than he will scaring Link so badly, with his disappearance.
But he doesn't begrudge Sheik that. Or hate him for that. He isn't even angry about it—because Sheik is alright, and he isn't…
"I don't know what I'd have done if you'd have left."
"I don't think I could leave if I tried." Sheik murmurs, pressing his knuckles deeper into Link's flesh as he leans forward and kisses him.
There is a thump and an 'oh, shit', that is not from Midna, and Sheik jerks back, head swinging around to glare at whoever has intruded on their probably-soon-to-be-fucking moment.
Sheik lets out a noise of surprise as Link promptly squashes him to his chest, because Sheik doesn't have a shirt and Zant is as much an asshole as Midna.
"How the fuck did you get in?"
"I brought groceries." Zant hums, fluttering his fingers in that way of his.
"From the good store?"
"Mmhmm."
Well, that is a different story.
"…You can stay." Link mutters, wincing as Sheik pinches him and wriggles back, apparently unconcerned with his nakedness. Which rankles Link, because he is so self-conscious about it with him, and Zant is a fucking stranger, but—
"I know you. You're that bastard Ganondorf—"
Zant leans down, eyes nearly black with a sudden, mad rage.
"Speak his name, bitch, and I'll—"
Link tries to make himself as small as possible, because Sheik has Zant on the floor in a chokehold in about four seconds, and for all his strength Zant is fucking useless.
Midna slides into the hallway, probably drawn by the thumping of Zant's feet against the floor, and promptly bursts into peals of laughter.
"Wanna keep talking? No…? Come on, I haven't even broken anything yet..." It occurs to Link that Sheik has not fought anyone in a long while.
But Sheik doesn't whine very much when Link scoops him up—just wraps his limbs around Link, scowling, and lets Link carry him into the kitchen.
"Glad your face looks as good as your ass." Midna calls after them, and Sheik's eyes narrow on Link.
"That's Midna. The guy you pinned is Zant."
"Do they come over often?"
Sheik is angry with him. Very angry. Link knows that tone too well.
He sets Sheik on the counter, cradles Sheik's face in his hands as he presses a kiss to Sheik's mouth.
"I've been more concerned with making sure you're comfortable here, and with me, to worry about introducing you to everybody." Sheik doesn't even blink.
"Does Ganondorf come over often?" And he has no idea what Sheik is getting after, and it makes him nervous. He can't tell if Sheik is angry or upset or what anymore. But still, that Sheik knows him…
"…If you tell me you've done work for him I will ground you."
That startles a laugh out of Sheik.
"Telma pays better."
"You know fucking everyone. How'd we not—?"
"I'm more surprised by the fact you know him, Link." Sheik purrs, loops his arms around Link's neck.
"He's my uncle. He was my dad's friend growing up."
Sheik lets out a hum, and falls quiet.
"…It's not like I want to hide—"
"What did Zelda say to you?" Sheiks' fingers brush his cheek, tuck strands of hair behind his ear. His words are little more than a murmur.
He swallows, hard.
"…That you left because of me."
Sheik's orbs flashed open in an instant, his shock nearly a physical thing.
"She said I made you think I didn't care, and that you didn't matter. And that you were scared of me so you left, and it was my fault because—"
Sheik is very, very warm. He pulls Link into an embrace, fingers wrapped so tightly in the fabric of his shirt that his nails feel like they are breaking his skin.
"No. I don't—no. That had nothing to do with anything." He says firmly, and presses his forehead to Link's.
"I've never told anybody. Never let her think I could do anything more than move her shit around the house or wander around the block. It was unfair to you, and to her, to keep lying about what I am. To keep stringing you along on whatever this is, to protect her, and keep her in the dark to protect you. I got…I didn't mean to leave you like that. I got wrapped up in how to tell her, how to keep her from panicking. Because I want you two to get to know each other, to like each other, to at least get along."
"If I made you think I don't care—"
"Of course you didn't." Sheik says gently. They are so close that each breath is shared, every movement made in unison. Link is clinging to him, even more tightly than Sheik is holding him, and…
Sheik's eyes are soft. So are his lips, when he leans forward and gently presses a kiss to Link's mouth.
"You have no idea how much that meant to me. How much it means to me. I don't think I could've survived if you weren't as stupidly courteous as you are, and I love you for that."
Link feels his heart stop, at that.
Sheik has never said 'love' as a good thing. Rather, he's always treated the subject as something that is better left unsaid. And now Link understands that—that he could not stand loving someone as he was lying to them with every breath—but it is still…uncharacteristic.
Still stunning, to hear those words come out of his mouth.
"I'm sorry." And Sheik holds him, and they are both crying.
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Because I can't choose between the two of you. So please, please, don't make me.
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"I don't know how to do this. At all. And I'm going to fuck it up something terrible."
He looks scared. Not…just worried, she supposes. Not truly fearful of Link. He's just never been in a situation like this before, and she is beginning to realize that he is young.
Intelligent, mature, but young. She was ten years old the first time he woke, and…in all honesty, he has barely lived. Especially when compared to her. And being in love is something she is not even prepared for. Something she has never even considered, or thought of.
And Sheik…
"You've got to help me."
"No." She says it without thinking, the word escaping her as a gasp.
"I know you don't give really give a shit about the dumbass with the hair, but you keep him happy. Or, from running off with Malon. Same damn thing. Because I can't do the cuddle shit."
She is not dating Groose. Never has. But she has no problem with the way he treats her. Overbearing, sometimes, but he offers to pay for her meals or tickets to things, and he is genuinely good company.
She does not have close friends. Because of Sheik, because of her fear. But that Sheik is assuming she can help him with love….
"Like, I know we can't get married, thank the Three, but just being comfortable is what I want. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells and it's pissing me, which irritates him, but he's not gonna say anything, the considerate fuck."
She is furious, she realizes. That Sheik assumes there is something more than what there is between her and Groose.
She isn't stupid. Not when he is so obvious in his fawning. But they are not together. She doesn't need a person in that way.
"And now he's making me meet people—which, granted, I know Ganondorf already, but still. You have no idea how much it pisses me off, to see other people acting friendly with him. Especially because that whore keeps hitting on him, and she knows, the bitch, that it pisses me off. I'm not kidding when I say I want to kill them all."
Of course, she hates being lonely. But Sheik is…it makes her want to cry, what he's done for her.
She doesn't need a lover, someone like Link is to him in her life. She just….needs people.
Sheik has made her life warm, now, with Link and Midna and Zant and Telma and—
Because she is allowed to be there, even when she isn't Sheik. And…
"And that little slut Zant too. He fucking creeps around everywhere….I'm doing that thing again, aren't I? Midna's a whore. Not Zant. He just doesn't get it if you don't tell him to get the fuck out of your personal bubble. Which drives me insane. And then the shit with your work—I actually like Ingo, but I've been waking up more lately for some stupid ass reason and the ginger chick, what's-her-face, keeps mistaking me for you."
His face suddenly lightens, and he straightens, the screen becoming a blur as he jostles his phone about.
"Oh, but, Ingo was talking and he said that he could enroll me in classes—like, my own classes—online so I don't have to worry about you or anything. Legally I'm nothing right now, but he's helping me look through shit. Instead of doing any work. Hey, he didn't hire me. And—shit, here comes Link. Anyway, sleep tight. And I put our shit in your drawer so just look for the chest if you wake up naked or something I love you bye."
Zelda rolls her eyes.
They'd bought her a chest. A beautiful piece, polished deku wood carved with lines and lines and lines of ancient Hylian script.
Sheik knows how much she loves history, and…
A hand slides down her thigh, startlingly warm, and she slaps Link's hand with Sheik's phone, through the blankets heaped over them.
"Ow!"
Link's orbs eye her balefully, peeking out of the blankets, as he scoots into a ball on his side of the bed and nurses his hand.
"You should know better than to do that."
"I was trying to figure out who it was without having to open my eyes."
"Why?" She asks slowly, not quite sure she is going to like the answer.
"Gotta work late tonight. Gonna get more sleep, but now I'm up."
"No, why would that tell you who it was?"
He blinks owlishly at her before replying.
"'Cuz he cuddles. Not that he'll admit it." Link sighs.
She allows him to inch closer, mulling that over as she twists Sheik's phone around in her hands.
She likes this. Learning little things, strange quirks and mannerisms, of Sheik's through Link. Likes this closeness, though it hurts that she will never see Sheik in person.
"D'ya got classes today?"
"Yeah. You know…you're welcome to come home, with him. It's not like…you don't have to spend all of your time here."
"We fuck everywhere, Zelda. Not to be gross, but—"
"Men aren't the only ones allowed to be horny, Link."
"GET OUT!" She's never heard Link yell quite so loudly before, but she helps him chase Midna out.
She doesn't mind the constant intrusions, the snooping. Midna is not a cruel person, and means nothing bad by what she does. And she knows Link doesn't mind either, or else he wouldn't allow her the freedoms he does. But when it comes to her, he is very protective of what Midna does.
He acts even more protective when it comes to Sheik, she knows. Sheik likes to pretend to complain about it.
Her belongings have been moved into the chest, for the most part, rather than scattered around wherever Sheik deemed safe. She'd once found her shoes on top of one of Link's stupid artsy bookshelves—the thing is shaped like a spiral. He claims it is a gift from his sister, but…
There are a handful of missed calls on her phone, but she hasn't been out for very long, so it was nothing more than Malon being her usual hyperactive self.
"My sister's in town this week. So she'll show up without warning and your address is on the fridge so, um—"
"Your entire family is made of stalkers, aren't they?"
"I don't stalk Sheik or you. My siblings are just pains in the ass and nosy." He grumbles, and flops off of the bed onto the floor.
Her phone buzzed, and Zelda finished pulling her shirt on before scooping it up.
It was a calendar notification.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! YOU'RE OLD NOW. HA. Present at home. No Link!
The deal had been that if she got to play with Sheik's phone, he got to play with hers, but still….
And she's happy. It's dysfunctional and crazy and more a mess then she's ever known before, but she is happy.
"I think Sheik just bought me porn."
"As long as he doesn't watch it with you."
She is still smiling when she gets to class.
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I love you, Zelda. And thank you for everything.
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This was supposed to be more focused on multiple personality disorder, but I don't think I understand it or know enough about it to trust myself to write it accurately, without fudging it up terribly. The last thing I want to do is spread misinformation about something that serious. It'd be like claiming cancer comes from unicorn shit. It was also supposed to go into a sort of 'end of treatment' bit too but again, that would have made my cry and I couldn't stand it. I like this too much as it is, and the idea wouldn't leave me alone so I've morphed it until it's pretty much unrecognizable. Also, there's sex, which the original wasn't gonna have. So be glad!
The song 'Colors' by Halsey inspired how I went about writing this, I highly recommend you listen to it ;3 I've been binge-watching LeafyIsHere on Youtube too, which inspired the video content part (I don't like youtubers who don't actually create content or any of that, usually, but I really enjoy his videos bc he's hilarious). And I just couldn't resist throwing the Supernatural reference in there Lol. Been saying it a lot to my sister.
I don't plan on this being a series series, but there will probably be connected oneshots :3
For my 100 theme challenge, prompt #97: 'ID'.