Content Warning: swearing, violence, attempted rape

Zelda left quickly after he did.

She really didn't feel like sticking around to have a beer with Kass and Impa, like she usually does, because she still has a bit of homework to finish and that guy with the red cap couldn't take the hint that she wasn't interested. He talked her ear off even after she made it blatantly obvious that her eyes were on someone else instead. Her distraction didn't last very long however, because when the red cap guy intercepted, the handsome stranger she had met at the bookshop bashfully scratched the nape of his neck, sighed, and sent her one last wistful glance before he left the bar altogether.

More bad timing between the two of them, but Zelda's not worried they won't cross paths again. Deku isn't very large and he knows where she works now and they share a class tomorrow anyways. They'll have another chance... she hopes.

Getting the red cap guy to piss off was a bit of a challenge though. It was clear he didn't like being told no when he aggressively asked for her phone number, and she had to tell him twice that she doesn't give it out to just any man that asks for it. He grew huffy with her, but then disappeared when she turned her back to pack up her equipment.

The microphones and small amp that she owns are kept at the Rusty Claymore because she trusts Kilton to take good care of them (and because her room in the shared flat is getting cluttered), so the only items she has to carry back to her Subaru is her small backpack and guitar. She deliberately parks a couple blocks away because she likes the late night walk through the lantern lit park, and the outdoor car lot is usually empty enough where she can belt out a few songs and smoke a bowl before she heads home.

She has been smoking cannabis ever since she moved up to Deku. It's the first and only province in Hyrule where cannabis is legal both medicinally and recreationally. Not only has cannabis helped with her anxiety and past trauma over the years, but she hopes to one day become educated enough on medicinal plants so maybe her research and knowledge will contribute to the rapidly growing field of natural medicines. If only her father knew the type of person she grew into after she had moved to Deku —he'd probably remove her from his family tree entirely. Not that she'd have any complaints if he did.

As she walks through the park, Zelda barely registers a guy's silhouette sitting calmly atop a picnic table, hunched over the glow of a phone. He doesn't stir as Zelda passes, just stays quiet and never looks up at her, so she keeps to herself without taking in his strong build or thick hair pulled back. She passes him undisturbed as her boots click softly on the cobblestone, and walks straight to her car. She loves this beat up chunk of metal. It's been with her since she could afford it in high school when she got her license. Zelda originally wanted this compact SUV because of it's high mileage and low emissions, and as long as it's running, she'll probably never get a new car again.

Opening the back door of her vehicle, Zelda tosses her backpack and keys in the passenger's seat before she begins to load her guitar case. There are several items in her backseat that she has to maneuver around in order to get her bulky guitar in—she's not exactly the most organized person. She has multiple binders and textbooks, lab goggles, empty water bottles, and several items of clothing she keeps forgetting to take out, but she tells herself as soon as she does, she'll end up needing them when her and Impa do another spontaneous weekend road trip.

Since she's not tall enough to reach the small stack of books on the far end, Zelda climbs into the car and plants her knees on the seat as she organizes everything. Soon afterwards, she hears the sound of hurried, heavy footsteps approaching from behind her. It immediately makes her uncomfortable considering her car door is wide open and her buttocks is hanging out. Hopefully, it's just the quiet guy who was sitting on the picnic table from earlier, peacefully strolling through.

It isn't.

"I wasn't done with you at the bar," the guy says aggressively, and the sound in his tone makes her skin crawl.

Before she can maneuver herself out of such a vulnerable position, she feels two cold hands grab at her bare legs and pull, making her gasp in fear. Her vision goes white, but she manages to turn herself over on the seat so she can see her attackers face. It's the guy with the red cap. He must have waited for her to leave the bar then followed her at a distance through the park.

His hands are everywhere on her legs; groping and bruising, wrestling with her as she tries to get away from him, but she's trapped inside her own car. She's twisted stiffly on her back with her phone, keys, and pepper spray just out of reach—she could kick herself for doing that. He tugs and pulls her halfway out of the car with brute force, making her dress ride up too high on her thighs for it to barely conceal her underwear anymore, and her legs are hovering several inches from the cracked pavement with no leverage in reach. The attacker tries to push his body between her legs; his hands rushing and mauling to pry her knees apart, but Zelda sees an opportunity, so she takes it.

She pulls her knee back into her own abdomen and sends her heel straight in his face, blinding him momentarily. He stumbles back a couple paces, far enough away where Zelda can free herself from the car. Her feet plant on the ground and she screams.

"Don't you fucking touch me, you piece of shit!" Zelda drives her knee into the guy's stomach while he's still keeled over and trying to get his bearings. She stands strong, ready to fight him with hands clenched into fists. The odds are slim; he's a huge dude and may have a gun or he may have a knife, and she doesn't have enough time to grab for her phone or any weapons herself, but she's not going down without a fight.

"You bitch!" The guy yells as he unfolds himself, revealing a bloody nose from Zelda's boot, possibly broken, and charges at her. He shoves her against the panel of the car, making the back of her head bang against it with a loud thud. She's blinded for only the quickest second, but it's not quick enough to avoid the punch that's coming right at her temple. The guy clocks her on the side of the face and she can immediately feel the scorching pain spread across her head and down her entire body.

Her knees begin to buckle and she starts to slip to the ground, but he holds her steady, keeping her standing so he can snake a hand up her chest and onto her neck. His fingers begin to put pressure on her pulse point, and that's when she begins to panic. She was scared to the bone before, but this feeling is worse, suffocating. Like there really is no way out this time, no way she can even scream for help because she can feel his disgusting breath hot reeking on her face while she struggles to bring any air into her own lungs at all.

"Be a good girl. Don't fight me. We both know you were looking for some tonight," he says tauntingly as black spots begin to form on the edges of her vision. Zelda stares into his eyes, trying to memorize every detail of his features; he's a big muscular dude with a beer belly, brown eyes, and that red cap with a symbol of an upside down eye on it. She replies back by spitting in his face.

"You're going to regret that," he growls and tightens his hold on her neck.

Both her hands are trying to peel away his sausage fingers, shaking her head violently to get away from his face that's enclosing on hers, but the more she squirms the harder he presses himself into her. Then one of his hands leaves her neck and she watches in helpless horror as he unzips his pants and starts to pull himself loose from his underwear, but he never gets the chance.

Immediately, her attacker is jerked back with rapid strength, pulled away like he weighed absolutely nothing. The hold he had on her neck is instantly gone, replaced with air returning back to her lungs. Zelda gasps and starts to hyperventilate as the guy is yanked behind the opened car door, completely out of sight, and all she can hear over the sounds of her own rapid breath is the cringing noises of smacking, scraping, and grunting, like someone's being punched to a pulp.

Zelda lets herself collapse and she slides down onto the ground with her legs bent out in front. As she presses her back against the cold car wheel, she tries to process her surroundings, trying to understand what or who stopped him from attacking her, and it only takes a moment to locate the two sets of shoes she can see from underneath the car door. One is a pair of dirty white sneakers that was her attacker, and the other is a pair of clean brown toms.

She's seen those toms before.

It doesn't sound like there's much of a fight because several punches are thrown in one direction before the set of white shoes cowardly scrambles out of sight with a yelp in his gurgled voice that sounded like: "hell no, not you." The pair of brown toms doesn't chase after him, but instead they quickly run around the car door and the rest of his body comes into view right along with them.

"You okay?!" He kneels beside her as his shoulder rubs against her dirty, dusty car. For some reason, she wants to apologize for getting the side of his white shirt all dirty since she hasn't washed her car in god knows when, but he's probably not worried about the state of his clothes considering there's another guy's blood on them now.

Her hand is on her throat, trying to soothe away the lingering pain that will most likely be visible bruises tomorrow, but she nods brokenly to him. Finally, she's able to process his whole figure. Besides the blood on his hand and shirt, there's not a scratch on him. He's wearing the same outfit from the bookshop, but without his satchel across his shoulder anymore, and his right knuckles are a little bloody. Her eyes scan his figure until their eyes meet, and she can see his pupils are dilated and trembling slightly between her own, like he's trying to figure out how injured she is. She feels fine —her throat hurts but her windpipe isn't damaged, and she can feel a couple tender spots forming on her legs from where her attacker pulled her from the car, but she's more shook with fear than anything else. That's when she feels the warm liquid slowly trickling down her eyebrow.

When her attacker punched her, he managed to break skin, so she's bleeding just above her brow. Zelda raises a hand to inspect the injury, grazing her fingers along her brow and winces when she finds the cut. It's small, she won't need stitches, but she'll have to carry the markings of her fight for several days.

"Th-there's a— a kit—" Her voice is hoarse and quivering, so Zelda raises her arm and points a finger at the small red first-aid kit she keeps behind the driver's seat.

Without a word, he nods and gets up momentarily, walks around her and grabs the kit, returning quickly. Placing the kit between them, he takes out an alcohol wipe, rips open the small package, and hands it to her so she can clean the wound herself.

She tries her best, but Zelda's hands are shaking terribly. Her adrenaline has worn off and her breathing is still so sporadic that she can barely get the wipe close to her face before she quits altogether. After several minutes of sitting in silence, she glances at him again. He's staring back at her with a face full of concern and worry, but calm and attentive, like he's waiting for her next instructions. It shows how much he wants to help her in any way that he can, so she lets him.

"C-can you," she coughs and tries again. "I can't—"

"Um," He answers hesitantly before she can properly ask the question. "Yeah, okay." Gingerly, he takes the alcohol wipe out of her hand. With a focused gaze and a gentle touch, he begins to wipe away the drying blood from her temple and brow.

Zelda tries to stay as still as possible, letting him clean her wound as they sit on the ground in the dark parking lot with the light of her open car behind them. He doesn't seem to mind her remaining tremors and shakes because he works quickly, effortlessly, like he's no stranger when it comes to cuts and injuries. As he works, it dawns on her that he's not even breathing heavy after fighting a guy that was bigger than he is. He has no injuries of his own yet he had scared that guy so bad he actually ran off.

Who is this guy?

Dragging her eyes up to his, she tries to express her appreciation to him. "Th—thank—"

"Shh," he says softly and shakes his head at her, not wanting Zelda to strain her voice. He crinkles up the bloody wet wipe when he's done and opens the small packet of antibiotic ointment that helps to prevent infection. He squeezes a small amount onto the tip of his index finger, then applies it to her cut.

His touch is gentle, dabbing lightly as he keeps a generous distance between them even when his hand is on her brow. The proximity of another man, especially someone who is technically still a stranger to her, it's not jarring or unwelcomed after such a terrifying experience. Surprisingly, it comforts her.

He lets the ointment soak into the cut as Zelda finally gains control of her breathing. She closes her eyes and lets her head fall back onto the car wheel as she takes a long, sated inhale. There's no telling what would have happened if he wasn't in ear shot to hear her scream and struggle. Zelda may have been able to put up a fight from her attacker, but for how long? She could have ran, but her attacker would have only chased her, and it's hard to say how far she would have gotten before his gross hands clawed at her skin again.

Thankfully, the quiet company and forest scent of this stranger's cologne is such a nice change from the horrible beer breath of her attacker. This shy guy possesses a calm energy that is certainly helping to reduce the amount of anxiety and fear she just experienced, along with helping to alleviate any terrible images implanting itself into her uneasy mind. After several deep breaths and listening to the guy quietly ruffle through the first-aid kit, she hears him clear his throat softly.

"Um... do you—do you want...?" Zelda opens her eyes and looks at him. His smile is crooked along his mouth and his eyes are bashfully inquisitive as he holds up a band-aid in each hand. One is a generic brown bandage originally from the first-aid kit, and the other from when she threw several funky bandages in there as extras. The one in his hand has dancing cats playing instruments from one of her favorite Disney movies; the Aristocats.

"That one," she points at the cats, and he smiles.

He begins to unwrap it from it's package; pulling off the adhesive covering, and raises it up to her head. He takes his time, making sure he covers the cut, and she feels the bandage stick firmly just above her eyebrow. The guy drops his hands to his thighs when he's finished and smiles sweetly as he stares up at the silly bandage on her forehead.

"Thank you," she tries again with a crooked smile of her own. Her voice is barely a whisper.

"Oh, it's not... you're uh—" His head and eyes fall after he fails to form words, and he goes to scratch the nape of his neck, but his smile is still there.

"Did you —did you hurt him?" She asks and his smile begins to fade, but maybe she wasn't making herself very clear. He looks at her under his lashes and stays still, and waits. "Did you give him a black eye?" She reiterates.

He just shrugs and breaks their gaze to stare at the car wheel.

"Did you split his lip at least?"

He nods slowly, but still doesn't look at her.

"Good," she sighs. "That guy deserved every punch you gave him. Hopefully you broke his nose."

But he shakes his head and looks at her out of the corner of his eyes as a smile creeps along his lips, "you did."

"Did I?!" She says eagerly, forgetting the pain in her throat, and it makes her cough. She's a little surprised she was able to hurt that guy at all. Her attacker had been a full head and neck taller than her and his arm muscles were almost as big as her thighs. "Damn, I'm stronger than I give myself credit for," she adds and he nods, smiling softly.

After awhile, he places his palm on his knee and rises before her, tucking the first aid kit under his arm and offering his other hand out to her. She takes ahold of it willingly —his hand warm and calloused under her own as he helps pull her onto her rickety feet. Their hands linger in the air between them and she looks down when she feels his thumb graze across her knuckles. It's one of the softest touches Zelda has ever felt and if she wasn't hypersensitive with everything right now, she'd probably never notice it. She smiles and looks up at him to see that he's looking down at their hands like he's mesmerized by them, like their touch is just as electrifying as it is for her, too.

Quickly, his breath hitches and he retracts his hand, clawing it through his hair instead. "Sorry," he breathes, and hands her back the first-aid kit so she can put it away, and when she turns back to him he stands awkwardly for a brief second before he reaches for her guitar.

"Here, let— let me." he adds, and picks up her guitar case still lying on the pavement. Zelda steps out of his way so he can load it into her backseat, but something stops him.

One of the stickers that Zelda has collected over the years has caught his eye. She's assuming it's the UFO with the famous saying underneath, 'the truth is out there,' but he points at the one right beside it of Chunk doing the truffle shuffle.

"Nice," he smiles.

"Thanks," she smiles back, and he continues packing the guitar case into the backseat. She shuts the door then looks at him. "Do you need a ride home? It's honestly the least I could do." Her hand is on the driver's door handle, thoroughly ready to drive this guy home.

"Oh, uh—" He stuffs a hand into his jean's pocket and scratches the back of his neck again. That must be a nervous tick, she thinks. He doesn't answer her with words, but he slowly, almost reluctantly, shakes his head. She doesn't buy it because there's only three other cars in the parking lot besides her own. One of them is Kass's, another is a beat up pick-up truck, and the other is a bright yellow bug. Neither of those fit his whole reticent personality at all. True, he could live within walking distance, but the apartments downtown are much more expensive, and if he's a student he must live near the campus like she does, and that's at least a few miles away.

"Okay, well, thank you—again," she sighs weakly. "If you weren't here, I don't—I don't know what would have happened."

Nodding shyly, he claws a hand through his mane and averts his eyes from hers. His other hand is still stuck in his pocket as his shoulder rises up to his ear with unease. It's clear he doesn't like praise, or doesn't know how to properly accept it, or maybe he doesn't like receiving it at all, but he did just save her from what could have been one of the most terrifying nights of her life.

Since he's already a man of very few words, Zelda assumes that he wont speak again so she begins to open the car door, but then his hand slowly extends out to her. He never touches her, but the movement gains her attention, and she turns to look at him with an inquiring gaze.

"I'll um... I'll wait to leave until you do," he says. That's the longest sentence she's heard him say so far. His voice is naturally quiet but a little scratchy, and there's something about it that's oddly familiar to her. Like she's heard it before somewhere deep in her memory, but there's no way she can fish it out right now.

Zelda nods once with a soft smile, "goodnight."

"G'night," he smiles back and starts to walk away.

He stayed true to his word. Quickly, she got herself situated in the driver's seat, started her car, and watched his tall figure walk across the parking lot to retrieve the bicycle still locked at the bike rack. Of course the lone bike would be his, he probably doesn't even own a car. Not wasting anymore time, Zelda decides to immediately head home. As she's pulling out of the lot and onto the street, it dawns on her what she should have asked him.

She still doesn't know his name, and she's beginning to think he doesn't have one.