Link had just settled himself on the couch, his face buried in his knees as he cried, when he heard feet padding downstairs. He wiped his face with his sleeves, feeling so fucking tired but not wanting Ghirahim to see him crying like a baby because of him. When a tired and worried Zelda appeared in the living room and not an enraged Ghirahim itching to beat him up again, Link relaxed. She rubbed her eyes when she spotted him, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing. She obviously hadn't been expecting to find the small boy curled up on the couch.
"...Sleepyhead? Are you okay?"
Link took in her tired form and felt a wave of guilt. The whole family had been incredibly kind and considerate to him, but he knew that it had to be wearing down on them by now. He hated to be a burden, and he was sure that they had to be disappointed the he hadn't made as much progress as he knew that had hoped for. So he gave her a nod to say that he was fine, and then quickly looked away.
"Are you sure?" She mumbled, in between two yawns. "It's late..." she made her way over to the couch, soft voiced and softer faced. "I know you can't tell me what's wrong, but I can try and guess. Did Ghirahim do something to hurt you again?"
She plopped herself down next to him. If she saw his tears, she didn't comment on them, just reached for his hand in silent comfort. Link hesitated to answer. It seemed like everything that he did just gave everyone more reasons to worry about him, and he didn't want to create more trouble. He shook his head no, picking at the sleeves of his sweater, but Zelda wasn't buying it. She started to pout. "...Did he intimidate you?" When he didn't react, she just squeezed his hand tighter and sighed softly.
They could see the night sky through the living room bay window, and the soft darkness encased the room, lit only by the speckle of stars that brushed the night. All was quiet.
"You know, you can tell me anything. I'm sorry that so much has been going on between you and him. I just... really want you to stay!" She admitted, playing with his fingers. "I always wanted a little brother..." A giggle interrupted her words. "Or... I was fine with a sister too, but you work as both, cuz I can still braid your hair for you!" That coaxed a blush from Link, and a burst of quiet giggles fell past his lips, the sound just a soft squeak. He wished that he could tell her that he thought she was a swell sister and that he'd always wanted siblings. "I'm sorry I'm being such a dork," she laughed, tucking some hair behind her ear. "I just... I don't like seeing family fight, and I really love you. I want to see you two happy and getting along, even though I know it's going to take time." She looked down at his hand, letting her thumb rub soothing circles on his palm. "Um... I used to do some pretty bad stuff to myself... dad was never home, and Zant wasn't here yet, so I was lonely a lot of the time..."
Link held her hand tightly, feeling a stir of pity rise within him. He knew very well what it felt like to be lonely, and it wasn't a good feeling at all. It led to bad thoughts and feelings.
Zelda chewed on her words before she finally decided to continue speaking. "...I didn't eat. Ever. And I still have trouble... tasting and looking at food and not wanting to throw up. I used to, um... braid my hair before it all started, but eventually it started falling out." Sadness filled Link's chest and he shuffled closer to her, offering her what support he could. He couldn't have imagined or guessed that Zelda, who was happy and upbeat and always ready to help him, had felt so low in her life.
"When dad finally came home, and figured it out, I weighed sixty-three pounds... I was almost dead of malnutrition. But it was so... hard to even understand why it was wrong. It happened so slowly, by the time it got to that point, every step had seemed rational... I was so obsessed with counting calories and being smaller than a size zero. But it all had just seemed... normal."
Tears pricked the corner of Link's eyes, and he laid himself down with his head in Zelda's lap to hide them. Zelda meant so much to him, and it hurt him to hear of her pain like this. He didn't want any suffering to land on her shoulders because she didn't deserve that. She was a sweet, good person. Her hands went to his hair and she slowly began to braid it. Link noticed with slight relief that the action seemed to soothe her a little bit.
"...It took a long time for dad to trust me again. Every time he left home, he kept calling and asking me if I was okay, if I had eaten today, if I wanted him to bring back anything specific for supper. He was... so mad at himself for not seeing the signs. That's why he took on a different job, closer to home, so that he could be there... it took a really long time for me to recover. I still haven't fully recovered... it's hard not to eat an apple and think about the acid on my teeth. Or look at an almond in the can, and see seven calories." Link swallowed hard, touched that she trusted him enough to tell him this, but hating that it happened to her.
It's silent for a little while, Zelda's hand just running through his hair. "I just... i just know that dad is thinking about this when he looks at you," she finally says, and Link gasped. "He sees Ghirahim teasing and hurting you, and pictures you as I was then; about to collapse and unable to defend myself from my own brain. But he also sees Ghirahim... a poor, abused boy that's lashing out because he's hurting..."
Link mulled over her words. He knew that he wanted to make Gaepora proud someday, that he wanted to get better. He wanted to... make peace with Ghirahim somehow. He wanted to be able to talk again and tell this family how grateful he was and how much they meant to him.
"And... with Zant, I've never seen him enjoy physical touch as he does with you. He's usually like a cactus; he doesn't even let dad pat him on the back... He's said it's because when people didn't understand him, they tried restraining him." Link gave her a confused look, trying to figure out how to ask his question without using his voice, but it seemed like she was able to pick up on it pretty quickly. "Oh, he has autism. You didn't know?" Link shook his head, surprised. He hadn't known, no... alarm went through him as he thought about it. He hoped that he hadn't been making Zant uncomfortable by clinging on to him! He had thought that it was okay! Was the older boy just not asking him to stop because he didn't want to hurt Link's feelings? The last thing that Link wanted was to make Zant uncomfortable or unhappy with him...
Zelda chuckled. "Don't worry, Zant always says something if it crosses the line. He hasn't said anything to stop you from cuddling up to him, right?" Link gave him some consideration, flicking through his memories for some time before finally shaking his head. "Then he likes it! Maybe it's just different with you; you do give off the sweet and gently vibe!"
Link blushed, but was relieved to know that he wasn't being a nuisance to the older boy. A smile pulled his lips upwards, and he turned his face into Zelda's lap to hide it. He felt... happy here. He wanted to stay, was overjoyed that they wanted to adopt him... they had done so much for him already, and they made him happy again. Just like his parents had.
Zelda braided his hair for a while, her fingers doing and undoing intricate fishtails until Link's eyelids felt heavy. He stirred at the sound of her giggle. "Did you want to go up to bed?"
Immediately, Link stiffened, his mind remembering what he was doing down here in the first place. Ghirahim had been in his room. Without permission. He might still be there. Zelda tilted her head towards him, until something seemed to click. "Did Ghirahim go in your room?"
Not wanting to create a fuss after everything else that had happened today, Link quickly shook his head in denial and looked away from the older girl. She narrowed her eyes at him before sighing dramatically. "Oh, well... I guess I'll just have to send you up to your room, then! Since nothing is the matter! And Ghirahim is nowhere near your room!"
Oh shit.
Link's eyes widened in panic and he immediately clutched at her nightgown desperately, his eyes pleading with her to not make him go up there. He shook his head again, harder this time, and Zelda sighed, laughing softly. "Come on," she pressed gently. "I'll go with you, to see if he's still there. If he is, I'll make him go, or you can sleep in mine or Zant's room!" Link looked incredibly unconvinced, but he didn't want to argue in case Zelda left him alone. He took her hand tightly in his and let her guide him upstairs, towards his room, where the door was left slightly open.
Zelda peeked in, curious, but when her eyes widened she opened the door fully and stepped inside. More hesitant, but figuring that Ghirahim wasn't in there because Zelda hadn't said anything, Link looked in, and gasped. His room was... clean. Ghirahim was gone, but his stuff was put away, his bed was made, and his floor was swept. The only change was his journal, which lay open on the bed. Link's nervous eyes immediately locked on the book, alarmed. Had Ghirahim gone through it? Why would it be open? He crept forward and carefully picked the object up. As he inspected the page that it was open to, he recognized writing, though it wasn't his own. It was elegant cursive, fancy but still legible. It looked practiced.
The writing barely covered three lines, but Link still feels the weight of the words written down.
I asked you, boy, why with a tongue, an Adam's apple, a windpipe and vocal chords, you could not speak to me.
Whether you know it or not, you gave me an answer.
PS: Your room was absolutely filthy, so I cleaned it. You're welcome.
-Ghirahim
...What did Ghirahim mean? Link hadn't given him any sort of answer. Had he gone through his journal to find what he wanted to know? The thought of that made Link feel sick with unease, and he hugged the book to his chest, pushing back his worries. Zelda tilted her head at him as she waited, chewing on her words before she finally spoke up. "...Is that private?" Link hesitated before carefully nodding, and she gave him a slight, sad smile. "He wrote in it, didn't he... do you think you'll be okay here for the night?"
Link stayed silent for a little while, staring at her and then at the journal. You would have to inspect the other pages, to tell if he'd read anything... did he feel safe enough alone? Right now, Link wanted to cry as he thought about Ghirahim knowing his most private thoughts, and he didn't want to be alone. In the end, he shook his head and shuffled closer to Zelda, feeling sick.
The other girl nodded in understand. "Come on, then! We'll go to my room, so we don't have to wake Zant."
They made their way over there, and Zelda gave him an old, baggy shirt to sleep in, which Link gratefully put on. He spent the night tucked in Zelda's bed with her, and thankfully, it was a dreamless sleep.
He was awoken at 10am by Zelda, who was already showered and dressed. Groggy, he forced himself up and plodded downstairs while the older girl stayed in the upstairs bathroom and dried her hair. His journal was clutched tightly in his hands, and when he stumbled into the kitchen, his grip went deadly. His eyes met Ghirahim's, his feet frozen in spot.
The smaller boy went pale and began to back away, not wanting to deal with this right now, not wanting to know how much the older boy had read. He just... couldn't. But Ghirahim's gaze went down to the journal in Link's arms, scoffing. "I didn't read it, you buffoon." Link paused in his escape, struggling to figure out if the other boy was lying or not. "I saw that it was nothing but useless, emotional dribble. And regardless, one day you'll tell me those things yourself... whether you wish to or not." Again, his tone wasn't quite as malicious as Link had been expecting. He looked tired; his black eye still looked awful, but his other eye had a sweeping of exhausted purple. He had showered and changed, and instead of cereal, he was eating scrambled eggs and toast.
It smelled... delicious. And Link could tell that there was still more in the pan. The scent of it had his stomach growling loudly, and it made the small boy jump. It had been awhile since any food had made him feel this hungry. He must have made a lot of progress here, which gave him a warm, pleased feeling. He stared at the extra food longingly.
"...You can have it," Ghirahim rasped. "Gaepora left for work early, leaving me to cook something. Quite irresponsible."
He gave the older boy a wary look. There had to be some sort of catch, right? He wouldn't just give Link the food. But Ghirahim just stared him down, looking bored, his eyebrow arched. Link let his gaze slip back towards the food. He supposed that he could take some, but... he still wasn't comfortable with eating around other people. He timidly crept over and grabbed a plate, taking a small amount of the food for himself before turning and scampering out of the kitchen and into the living room.
He set down on the couch and took a tentative bite, hearing Ghirahim chuckle from the kitchen. The food was as tasty as it smelled, flavorful and still warm, but that laughter...
"How rude. Weren't you taught that you should look at someone when they're speaking to you? If you insist on tucking tail and running away, the very least you can do is listen." Link swallowed his mouthful with difficulty, deciding that his stomach could wait to eat until he was alone. Quietly, he set the tempting plate down onto the coffee table and pulled his legs up against his chest, the journal lodged protectively against his stomach.
"I take it that you didn't understand the note I left for you? Hm. I suppose that's to be expected." Link frowned, and almost instinctively opened his journal to the page Ghirahim had written on. "Why, what you told me was simple. Laughably so! You even repeated yourself mere seconds ago," Ghirahim tittered, and Link grew more tense. "You fled boy. With tears in your eyes! Your message was clear," he stated. Link heard the chair scrape the floor as he stood and made his way over to the living room.
Ghirahim turned the corner and Link whirled to look at him, cautious. "You're afraid of me."
Link flinched, immediately looking down at his hands. He thumbed the pages of his journal, just for something to do. His cheeks burned and he wanted to deny what Ghirahim was saying, but it was true, and the older boy had caught his tears. Frustration gripped him harder than ever before as his throat closed up, and he scooted to the other end of the couch, as far away from the doorway and Ghirahim as he could get.
Almost directly out of spite, Ghirahim sauntered over to the couch, plopping himself down on the cushion right next to Link and watching him squirm with a smug smile. "Now, let me make one thing understood," he deadpanned, all ounce of emotion gone. "I don't like you. I have never, and will never like you. But," he practically purred, "If it will eventually earn your trust, and make you speak, I will gladly be as sweet as cherry pie to you. And, quite frankly, if I'm forced to go back to my father's house, my limp corpse floating down the river will have your name written all over it."
Link paled, his back pressed hard against the arm of the couch, ignoring how much it hurt in favour of getting even a little more distance between the two of them. His eyes hardened and he glared down at his hands. He didn't want Ghirahim's fake kindness. He wanted the older boy to leave him alone, because Link was not going to give him what he wanted. Many other people had tried to get him to talk, and he hadn't then, so he sure as hell wasn't going to do it now. Not to Ghirahim, not to anybody. The older boy wasn't going to force him to do anything. Link shook his head with a huff.
Ghirahim merely chuckled, and to Link's surprise seemed to take his opinion into account. "Fine," he said, getting up and setting down a glass of orange juice that he'd been concealing behind his back. He strolled over to the stairs with a practiced ease, not flinching from any one of his wounds, as he went upstairs, wearing a smirk. "Enjoy your meal~"
Link stared after him with suspicion. That had ended way too easily...
As silence fell over the living room, his hunger awoke again, and the small boy's gaze slid down to the plate of barely touched food, now accompanied by a glass of orange juice. He had to admit that the food was really good, and he really did love orange juice...
But Ghirahim had made everything.
Stubbornly, Link held back another moment, checking the stairs to make sure that Ghirahim wasn't hiding there and waiting for him to move. But the coast was completely clear, and Link hesitantly reached out to pull the plate onto his lap.
One bite led to another, and soon the plate was empty, practically licked clean. His stomach still growled, and he eyed the glass of juice longingly. Well... he already ate the food... so it wouldn't really do any harm..
Link took the glass with two hands and gulped it down, eyes widening as the taste fell over him. This... tasted better than most of the processed stuff, and it made him pause for a second, wiping his mouth. Was this... freshly squeezed? Curious, Link got up off the couch to peak into the kitchen, and sure enough, Ghirahim had brought out the juicer and made it himself. There was still half a pitcher left.. and the pan still held another portion of eggs and toast that called his name... Throwing another glance over his shoulder to make sure that Ghirahim couldn't see him, Link gave in to his stomach and scooped up the rest of the eggs and toast, and spreading strawberry jam on the bread. Shoving food in his mouth, he glared at the pitcher of juice. Damnit, that was some goddamned good juice and he was going to have another glass.
He was light on his feet when he pranced over to the kitchen table and began to scarf down the food in peace, though he told himself that Ghirahim couldn't buy his love with food. He couldn't.
When he heard rhythmic feet coming down the stairs, Link froze with half a piece of toast hanging out of his mouth, but as soon as he saw Zant, clothes still ruffled from sleep, rubbing his eyes, come into the kitchen, he let out a sigh of relief.
"Good morning," Zant rasped with sleepy morning voice, going to grab a box of cereal. Link nodded in greeting at him, quickly swallowing his mouthful and wiping his mouth and washing it down with his glass of orange juice. As Zant sat down, Link pushed back his chair and brought his dirty dishes over to set in the sink, shooting glances towards the older boy. Zelda had said that if he was making Zant uncomfortable, he would say something. Still...
Link bounced back over and hesitantly pushed his chair against Zant's, climbing onto it and relaxing against the tall boy as he watched his face. He didn't seem uncomfortable... Link grinned. Zant didn't say anything, merely continuing to eat his cereal as his younger brother practically laid down on top of him. Link's eyes flickered down to the cereal and then back up at Zant, pouting as he began to feel guilty. He had ate all of the eggs and toast without saving some for the other household members... Chewing on his lip, Link's gaze slid over to the pitcher of juice. There was enough in there for at least one more glass. Brightening up, the small boy slid off of his chair and grabbed the pitcher, marching back over to Zant and proudly placing it in front of him.
Zant blinked, staring at the jug for a few moments before looking over at the pan on the stove. "Oh. Ghirahim cooked." Then, he looked Link, trying to read his expectant expression. "...I don't eat eggs. At least not scrambled. They have a weird texture... it's the same with orange juice. The pulp gives me trouble." When Link seemed visibly relieved yet saddened, Zant turned his attention back to the pan. "Ghirahim knows that..."
To Link's surprise, Zant got up and walked over to the stove, opening the oven. Sitting on a plate, warming for a while, was a small stack of blueberry pancakes. Zant giggled, and Link couldn't help but smile and relax against his chair.
So Ghirahim cooked sometimes.. and was clearly talented, judging by the taste of that breakfast. He watched Zant settle back down and begin to eat the pancakes with a dab of syrup, his cereal forgotten and smiling so sweetly that it was infectious. Between bites, he watched Link's expression, and talked.
"Ghirahim cooks when dad's at work. I'm nervous with an oven. Zelda is bad at it... and doesn't like the smell. Dad is okay. We still order way too much takeout. But Ghirahim likes it... He's had to care for himself. His dad doesn't do anything besides mix drinks." Link nods, resting his head on Zant's shoulder and closing his eyes while he listened. His stomach was happily full, he was warm, and there was this weird truce thing between him and Ghirahim.
The older boy thought that he could get Link to talk with acts of kindness and food, but Link knew better than that. Ghirahim can waste as much of his time as he wants, Link wasn't going to stop him. In fact, he was going to keep his mouth shut and take advantage of it, and Ghirahim could tire himself out on his own.
The small boy grinned. This was going to be... interesting.