Full Summary: Zelda's been attending NHU for two years now, living life to the fullest in the lively, but secluded, northern city of Deku, and Link is a brand new transfer student trying to start everything over. He grew tired of the life that was laid out for him; following in his father's footsteps, carrying the burdening title of Hyrule's Champion, and committing to a relationship that was bound to fail. He's looking for a new path to wander at NHU and maybe, just maybe, he'll find himself somewhere between the luscious evergreens of Deku and the artsy bookseller with those bewitching green eyes.

Uni AU / Nostalgic / Drama / Angst / Smut / Romance

Late August

It's that time of year again.

When the students storm the store's aisles and dishevel the shelves. When they leave their empty coffee cups on the dark green café tables, and abandon their hastily written lists on the carpeted floor that contain their book requirements for fall semester. They enter through the tall glass doors, nervous and utterly lost under the fluorescent lighting when they try to find the books themselves, and they linger in the café drinking sugary drinks full of espresso until ten at night -until her manager has to announce over the loud speakers that the store has actually closed for the evening.

Somehow, they can't seem to understand that they don't sell textbooks here. This is not a student store -her and her coworkers complain when there aren't any customers in ear shot. It's a retail store. The english, history, and gen ed students aren't too bad because they mostly read chapter books in their classes, and corporate bookstores obviously provide anything and everything from The Epic of Gilgamesh to the newest Zadie Smith novels -but this time of year brings the heavy clouds of naivety rolling in with the harvest breezes of August, along with unaware freshmen, recent transfers, and accounting or science majors looking for $250 textbooks that they'll need for their classes -which has already started, and Zelda has the same response. Every. Time.

"Dude, just find them online."

But Zelda tells herself she shouldn't be too annoyed by the students. After all, she's one of them.

She had actually been shocked to find she was accepted to Northern Hyrule University two years ago. NHU was ridiculously off the map, the campus residing in the small city of Deku that's separated from the rest of Hyrule by miles and miles of woods and nationals parks to the east, west, and south side, then Lake Hylia's huge range of almost 350 miles of water to the north end of town. Lake Hylia is so vast it looks like an ocean, and the majority of merchandise that sells during the summer tourist season usually says 'I've made it to the edge of the world; Deku, Hyrule.'

Deku is full of students and artists, botanists and outdoor enthusiasts. It's very common for alumni students to settle down and start families here because Deku is so isolated from the rest of the country, yet so lively. It's bumpin' with sports and activities, food trucks on every beach front, cozy dive bars and just the right amount of clubs along the city's main strip. It's got coffee shops and boutiques, trails to hike on and rivers to kayak down. It does have a poor excuse for a mall though, but there's too many other things to do in Deku anyways. It brings in tourists wanting to visit the Pictured Cliffs on the edge of town, swim in the glacial waters of Hylia, or experience how exactly a small city like Deku is run by a bunch of university students because let's be honest here; the NHU warriors run this town.

Zelda works at the retail bookstore that competes against the university's textbook store, and many students come in to compare prices on chapter books, study or use their wifi in the cafè, or wander the aisles aimlessly like one naturally does in a book store. She's been working here since she moved up to Deku even when it doesn't pay much. To be surrounded by books while she gets paid to talk about them makes up for every grumpy customer that complains "well, your website says you have it in stock" when she can't find the book they're looking for.

It's a Thursday. The first week of the fall semester, and Zelda has less than half an hour left to her shift. It's been a long day for her; lectures starting too early in the morning that were filled with pointless banter about the syllabus and understanding lab etiquette -which is just the same lab safety video that was made in the early 90's that's still being used for every lab class. But between the 'free' drinks of coffee she sneaked from the cafe and her weekly gig she plays later tonight, her energy and mood is still, surprisingly, pretty high.

"Hey Zel," her manager says from behind, startling her. For the large and thunderous man Daruk is, his dress shoes are completely muted on the carpeted floor of the book shop.

"We're going to have to get you a bell or something," Zelda jokes as she leans away from one of the desk's computers. It's a relatively large customer service desk, used for ordering books and when someone has a vague grasp on the title they're looking for. She actually likes it when a customer comes in with a challenging book title because at this point she's mesmerized where most books are shelved, and in which sections they're in by now.

She hears his booming laugh before she smiles and meets the older man's beady eyes. He always wears a dress shirt to work, despite how wrinkled they usually are, with various shades of blue ties, and khaki's pants. The typical managerial outfit.

"Maybe I'll exchange my lanyard for a metal chain," Daruk smiles down to her. He's always in a better mood when Zelda works with him because he knows she's a great employee. She actually cares about the tidiness of the store, and finding the customer's books, even if she's not that good at upselling.

"How very punk rock of you," she quips, and Daruk holds his protruding gut as he laughs again. He laughs like Santa Claus, Zelda thinks. Kind of looks like him, too.

"But in all seriousness," Daruk clears his throat, "are you able to stay later?" He asks, drawing a sharp inhale through his teeth. He's too friendly and docile to be asking her, and he already knows the answer to his question, but he has to try anyways -he's the manager after all.

"Sorry Daruk, I can't. I've got my gig tonight." And homework, she adds in her head.

"I figured," he says defeated, but still bearing a large smile, "welp, would you mind reshelving this stack of books before you leave?" Daruk points to the tall and skinny wheeled metal cart on the backside of the desk. It's stacked to the brim with random paperbacks and hardcovers.

"You're the fastest reshelver I've got," he smiles, then adds, "I'll cover the desk."

"Of course," she says, drumming her hands on the wooden desk and sighing loudly, but a smile teases behind her lips. It's actually one of her favorite parts of the job; reshelving miscellaneous books that customers have pulled and placed in wrong sections, or abandoning piles of them on café tables. It eats up a lot of her shift and it beats standing around the customer service desk.

"You're the best."

"I know," she smirks, and tilts the cart with her foot as she wheels it away.

Zelda positions the reshelf cart at a convenient place in the center of the store so she doesn't have to walk back to the service desk each time. At this point in her book seller job, however, she's gotten extremely skilled at balancing an impressive amount of books in her hands, but there's too many for that -so she pushes the full wheeling cart in front of her until she's in the center of the store, parks it next to the closest column so it's out of the way of customers, and starts her organization.

It's not long until the cart is almost empty; out-of-place books back to their proper homes on the shelves, end caps, or display tables, and Zelda is almost lost in her own world entirely. She's thinking about the typical songs her and Kass will play tonight, calculating how long she'll have between now and then to get some homework done, or what she'll eat in-between, when she turns the corner to the history aisle with a cluttered stack of books in her arms. It's almost never occupied -besides the occasional middle-aged white dude looking for Bill O'Reily's 'history' books, but the aisle is occupied and it's not some old guy.

It's a guy about her age with his back turned to her. He's wearing a simple white t-shirt, leather belt, and light blue jeans that are torn unevenly around his shins just above his bare ankles, and a couple loose strings of his pants dangle towards his toms. His jeans are tight but not straining -just the right amount where it makes Zelda's eyes dart down to his backside, and one of her eyebrows actually raises because of the impressive build he's got. He's not excessively muscular and in no way intimidating, but he's got an active body with lean muscles and broad shoulders that make him look tall and robust, agile and flexible.

His sandy brown hair is pulled back in a low tail except for two long strands framing the sides of his face and shaggy bangs that fall over his forehead. There's a leather strap draped across one of his shoulders as the bag hangs by his thigh, and it is large enough to fit a couple textbooks in -which makes Zelda automatically assume he's a student. It's a sturdy bag with leather padding and there's a lone patch that's ironed onto it that displays a UFO in the sky and says "I want to believe."

She doesn't disturb him at first, and he doesn't turn to look at her either, so she picks up the top book in her hands and finds the spot on the shelf where it goes. She's silent for a couple seconds, letting the nameless guy browse leisurely, but as she gets closer to him, she notices he's got a phone in his hand and he's hunched over the screen, scrolling through a list, and she watches as his free hand rises to his face and itches his temple.

She's seen that mannerism before; he's got a specific book he's looking for, and he can't find it.

"Hey," she says gently, "need help finding something?"

"Hm?" His shoulders jump a little when he turns to face her, but his startled expression quickly turns soft and a smile forms along his lips that is even more impressive than his backside. His white v-neck is a bright contrast to the tattoos he has underneath. There's one over his heart, one on his shoulder, and a small one on his wrist that's written in a language Zelda can't place. He might have a few more hidden under his clothing, but definitely not more than Zelda.

The guy has a dimple on his cheek that forms when he grins, and she loses herself to it for an indistinguishable amount of time, until Zelda realizes it's been a little too long since either of them has said anything. She clears her throat and repeats the question, "can I help you find a book?" She nudges her elbow to the shelf he had been facing.

He still smiles at her for a few seconds, scanning her body like she had just been doing to him, but quicker this time, more respectful -lingering on her hair and beauty marks, then their eyes meet and it seems to snap him back to their conversation.

"Oh," he says with another jolt of his shoulders, "yeah, um-" he starts scrolling through his phone meekly, like the title of the book has escaped his mind completely.

She just smiles warmly, admiring the nameless kid's modest appeal, "may I?" she asks, extending her free hand in the air between them. It's much easier just to look at the screen herself so she can have a visual of the book title. Plus, she can tell he's got his personal textbook requirements pulled up on his phone from his student account with NHU. She's familiar with the page and it seems like he's not. Maybe he's a freshman. No -he doesn't look that young. Maybe a transfer?

"Mhm," he hands the phone over gingerly and she takes a step closer to him so they can both view the screen as she scrolls. He's got an iPhone -not the newest one- with a large crack along the edge of the screen and a faded black case showing signs of wear, but she's more interested in the cologne he's wearing. It's not one of those overpowering, unbearable scents that smell like a clash of chemicals stuffed inside an aerosol can -it's soft and masculine, and it's making her take a deep inhale of him. Reminds her of the forest in the rain.

"Let's see," she murmurs slowly and starts scrolling through his textbook list, glancing at the classes he's taking this semester. It's mostly gen ed classes, with a lean towards sports education. With a body like that, he must be on the soccer team, Zelda thinks. Or at least trying out for it. Maybe track and field, or swimming, even. She ponders this as she passes a class she recognizes.

"Hey, you're in my World Literature class-"

"Yeah?" He says eagerly.

"Yeah," she smiles, "you'll like the professor, everyone does. Doctor Robbie wears these weird goggles for glasses. He says they're his 'prescription' but no ones buying it. He's a good teacher though."

He chuckles softly behind a closed smile -all masculine and breathy and thoroughly distracting and -what was she doing? Right. Books. She scans the rest of his classes. "We don't sell your bio or phys ed textbooks, try Chegg-"

"No, uh-" he says shyly and points his finger at his history class.

"Ah, I see, you're looking for….Ansary…Destiny Disrupted?"

"Yeah,"

"'kay,"

"Yeah," he repeats.

She glances at him quickly, astutely aware of his charmingly coy demeanor, but he's caught her eyes and they both can't seem to stop staring. To stop smiling. His eyes are gray blue and his white shirt is doing wonders at complimenting his light tan skin and collar bones.

Then his phone vibrates in her hand and she goes to look at it instinctively. It's a text from a person named Mipha.

link?

Maybe he needs to send his girlfriend a link to something. She hands him his phone back and he takes it slowly, then locks the screen and stuffs it in his back pocket, ignoring the text completely. Hm, maybe it's not a girlfriend.

She goes to scan the shelf in front of them, pretending to search for the book though she knows exactly where it is. She's actually surprised he didn't find it himself. It's right there.

"Professor Symin is a great teacher, you'll like him, too. I had him last semester for Philosophy and our final was just writing a comparison essay of Plato's Cave and The Matrix." He does that deep chuckle again, holds onto his satchel strap, and tilts his head. She carries on, satisfied to see that he's intrigued with her, "Destiny Disrupted is a really great book as well. I just read it over the summer because Symin recommended it."

He may have wanted to say something because his lips started to part, but then someone large, familiar, and dressed in pink, moves swiftly just beyond the guy's shoulder. Someone's walking past the aisle behind him, and she makes eye contact with her coworker for a brisk second before he disappears out of sight, but then he slowly retracts his steps and stops at the entrance of the aisle.

"Yo, you still playing the Rusted Claymore tonight?" The gangly coworker asks.

"Yeah, Si, you going?"

"Yeah, I'll be there, but..." he checks the watch on his wrist, "didn't your shift end five minutes ago?"

"Oh, shoot," she lost track of time, "can you finish the reshelves for me then?"

"Ah, such a noble quest," Sidon bows sarcastically, "I shall continue the endless battle of disarranged books for you, my lady."

"You're the best, Si," she yells over the aisle as he continues his walk in the same direction he was before.

"I know, darling," she hears after he's already vanished out of sight, and she's left with a patiently waiting customer.

"Right, sorry," she says, "here ya go," she moves wistfully as she pulls the book from the shelf. She had been hoping she could coax a little more out of this guy besides one worded responses, but she doesn't have time. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

He takes the book from her in much the same manner, like he wants more interaction, too, but he just exhales, sends her another dimple filled smile, and shakes his head reluctantly.

"See you in class then," she smiles playfully at him as she turns and starts heading down the aisle, but then she has a second thought and turns back to him as she continues walking, "or the Rusted Claymore tonight..?" She tries her luck.

"Where-?"

"Third street and main," her eyes takes one last sweep down his body selfishly, and it makes his cheeks tint pink, but the last winning smile he sends her before she turns completely is sultry and charming and she has a nagging suspicion his eyes are on her backside when she walks away.

When Zelda is clocking out at the register, Sidon floats up to her with an overflowing stack of books in his hand, but that's not what he's commenting about.

"That guy asked about you," Sidon leans over her shoulder conspicuously.

"Really? He talked? What -what did he say?" She says avidly and swivels to face him the second she's officially punched out.

"He said, and I quote, 'what instrument does Zelda play?'"

"But, how did he- Did you tell him my name?"

Sidon shakes his head over the colossal pile of books he's holding, "must have read your name tag."

"Huh-" she says, dumbfounded and baffled, but a smile creeps on her lips all the same.

"He seemed familiar actually," Sidon shares his thoughts, "but I can't place him. Maybe he's a kid in my class? A guy I dated? -no…I'd remember that a-"

Sidon keeps making guesses on who the nameless guy is, but she's stopped listening. That shy, blue jean wearing, X-files watching, book browsing student was nothing short of bashful -but also cheeky. Maybe he'll show up tonight, she thinks. And maybe she'll get to learn his name this time.