Nothing Like a Little Good Vice

Link Larkin was not without his vices. Most of them were trivial, well kept secrets; like his regular need to eat strawberry ice cream for example, or the way he would bang out little ditties on his guitar at one a.m. when he couldn't sleep… or the fact that he rather compulsively bought things for his car. None of these, however, were quite as important to him as the need to occasionally find a dark and quiet place to find his calm. It was the key ingredient to maintaining the Link Larkin image adored by all.

At some point during his school years he had found a neglected closet near the basement stairs. It was out of the way and, of course, locked. That hadn't been much of an obstacle for him; he'd simply pilfered the keys and made his own copy. This closet, leaving aside the stacks of grimy old buckets and the musty smell, had become his sanctuary. It was here in the dark that he would lean back against the cool cement wall and just be mellow.

Often times, when least expected, an uneasiness would rise up inside of him, something gnawing and uncomfortable that he couldn't put his finger on. Today was one of those times. As of late, the feeling had been occurring with more and more frequency and over time it was becoming a bit more defined. It wasn't something he was comfortable with. He had never been a person given to examining his feelings; they tended to muck things up, make things complicated.

He preferred things uncomplicated.

And so it was that, in order to aid his quest for this uncomplicated feeling, he had sought out his refuge. He'd shut the door and walked blindly to the opposing wall, leaned back against it and closed his eyes. He had just managed to find the well honed switch in his psyche that allowed him to go from anxious mess to calm, cool heartthrob when the door banged open loudly. Light momentarily spilled into the small space before the door was quickly closed again, plunging the room once more into darkness.

He opened his eyes and tried to see if someone was there, wondering if his cover was blown. Had someone come in? Or had they seen him there and run off? If so, how long until the entire school knew he liked to hide in the closet? What sort of damage control would he need to instigate? He peered into the darkness looking for a presence.

The bare light bulb over head suddenly clicked on and he jerked back, blinded by the sudden brightness, and bumped into the wall. A voice cried out in surprise and he managed to squint in that direction.

For a long moment he felt like the air had been crushed from his lungs and he simply stood there blinking dumbly in the bright light. There, leaning back against the closet door – and looking completely stunned in her own right – was the one and only Tracy Turnblad. He had been avoiding thoughts of her all day and now she was standing less than a foot from him, shut up in a tiny closet.

He wondered briefly if a girl could be a vice.

"I'm sorry! I didn't know… I just needed to… hide. There were so many people and I just… I think they're great and all, every one of them, but a girl needs a moment to herself once in awhile you know? Well, of course you don't know; you're not a girl. I know you're not a girl. Maybe if I had said "person" then you could…"

Her rambling somehow eased away all his tension and he straightened up, adopting his calm, self possessed demeanor once more. He smiled at her, one hand slipping smoothly into his pocket as he pushed away from the wall. "If you turn the light off, they are less likely to realize that you're in here." He reached out and pulled the small chain, effectively enveloping them in darkness again.

"Oh," Tracy responded, a mixture of understanding and unease.

"Don't worry, Darlin'; I'll stay over here, you stay over there. It's all kosher so long as no one finds us in here like this."

"You'd get in trouble if that happened," Tracy's voice whispered to him through the darkness.

"I'm not too worried about me, Doll, I'm more worried about you," he answered, his voice also low.

"Me?"

"Well, yeah; it wouldn't be good for a girl's reputation to be found in the closet with a fella', now would it?" he said smoothly.

Her response was only silence.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness again he could almost make out her silhouette against the door behind her. He tried to think of something to say so that he could hear her talk some more, but nothing came to mind. It was a bit baffling; talking to girls had never been a problem for him, not since around the age of fifteen.

"So," she started finally, and he was glad that the darkness hid his grinning face, "why are you hiding in the closet? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's cool, babe," he said automatically.

More silence. He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie.

"You don't have to do that you know," she said softly.

This time her words caught him off guard. "Do what?"

"Put on the 'cool' act. It's okay not to be cool every second of every day. I mean, you're a person aren't you? People have bad days, it's allowed."

Link was stunned speechless for the second time since she'd come through the door.

"Things aren't always that simple, Trace," he said finally and then, uncomfortable with this shift in conversation, quickly added, "I should get going. I have a test in my next class."

"Of course…" Trace started, but her words were cut off when he bumped into her. For a moment they were confounded, neither knowing which way to go to let him pass; then he placed his hands cautiously on her shoulders and they danced sideways.

The closet's width was considerably less than its length, and with the buckets stacked against the walls, the move had the two of them pressed tightly together. Link breathed in the scent of her, like clean laundry and freshly baked cinnamon rolls. He took note of how nice she felt against him, how soft she felt beneath his fingers, and had to quickly redirect his thoughts. She was entirely too close.

"I'll see you at the studio later," he said quickly and darted out the door, forgetting to check for any stragglers lurking beyond. Luckily, the hallway was empty and he made his escape unnoticed.

He stood there for several moments, his hand almost reaching for the door knob, before he finally turned and walked away. There was no way he was going to make it through his next class.

He was going to need another place to hide.