A/N: GRAB YOURSELF BOX OF TISSUES NOW.
Telma woke to an empty bed to her right. She sighed, pushing herself upright and getting up from bed. She put her feet in her clogs, and changed herself from her sleep clothes to her day outfit. Tying her hair in a bun, she looked down to the main floor, to which she saw Link fumbling a tune with her fiddle. She cringed at how off his intonation was, but he was occupying himself from drowning. That pleased her.
Slowly and quietly, she placed her feet on the steps, in attempt to go and sneak up on the boy. Telma reached the bottom of the staircase when the wooden floor creaked under her unbalanced weight. Link jumped, almost dropping the violin. He turned and faced Telma, his skinny face turning bright red, along with the tips of his ears. His lips twitched as he gently placed the instrument back in its case.
He rubbed the nape of his neck with his left hand. "Sorry, I shouldn't have touched your fiddle without asking…" His words trailed off into silence. "I… uh, sorry." He stared down at the floor, his face wide and rosy.
Telma grinned at Link, placing her hand on his shoulder. Immediately, he looked back up at her. "I don't mind." She smiled. "If it makes you happy, I'm okay with it." Link smirked slightly, but almost simultaneously, it disappeared.
Link shrugged. "I'm rather tired." He glanced over at the side room of the bar: it remained pretty empty throughout the day. "Would you mind if I just relaxed over there for the day? I won't bother your customers or business." He rubbed the inside of his left arm with his right and bit his lip: he seemed over anxious for a simple question.
Telma nodded. "You can. I'll check up on you every so often, when traffic gets low." She patted the boy's shoulder. "I've got to start getting the dishes cleaned, so go make yourself comfortable." Link nodded and did just as he was told. As Telma walked behind the bar counter, Link walked opposite to the side room. A musty old couch and a table sat in the side room. He placed himself on a wooden chair.
It was typically used for drunken men, but he felt miserable enough to be drunk. Link watched as each man came in sober, but left an intoxicated, disgraceful mess. It went on for hours, getting worse in the latter parts of the day. By then, Telma had already brought him several glasses of water, and pieces of bread. He only drank he water, leaving the bread untouched. Link only watched the sun set through the window, and the men at the bar were only getting rowdier by the hour.
Link stood from his chair at the small table, and sat up against an empty wall. He leaned up against the corner while Telma dealt with the rowdy and busy customers. His emotions were coming to reality as he pondered his head. He remembered being so happy and care free at one point in his life – now as each day passed, and each misfortune left him feeling mutilated, he felt the burdens growing heavier. He felt that it was growing harder to push himself out of bed in the mornings, and make himself at least look presentable. His heart and head ached often, and when they did, it felt like everything was crumbling and collapsing on top of him. He didn't possess the courage he had back then: when he was with her. He had changed.
He felt unneeded in many aspects after his return from his journey. Back in Ordon, despite it being troublesome, they all had figured out how to deal without him: without their ranch hand. When he had come back, he learned of such, and didn't want to come out. His longing for mutilation was growing stronger by the day, now. He figured nobody would recognize him as what was supposed to be their 'chosen hero', the 'one the goddesses chose, before he was even born, to save the land of light and twilight', the 'noble hero of twilight'. He felt he didn't meet up to any of those titles anymore. Link only felt an empty burden in his heart: a burden that rose in self hatred and sorrow – a longing for a way to cope, a way to relieve the misery.
He took a deep breath, exhaling in a sigh, and looked over his right shoulder to Telma over in the main pub. She made contact with Link for a brief second and her happy smile reconstructed into flat lips when she noticed the lost feeling in the boy's eyes. Excusing herself from a customer, she took another glass of water to the boy. She walked over to the other side of the room and knelt by Link, who was now sitting on the floor.
"Darling, I know you're not okay." She placed her hand on his shoulder. He was cold and terribly skinny. Her hand sunk his sweater and outlined his bony shoulder and back. Such a sight repelled her: she remembered a time – a time not too long ago – when the boy was fit, muscular, and healthy – not on the verge of death. Telma took a small gasp, but it was inaudible – she only wanted to hide her fear from the poor boy: he was troubled enough as it was. "You don't look so good."
Another sigh. Link rolled his head toward the woman, looking at her with his glassy eyes. Quickly, he shook himself back to consciousness. "Y-yeah. I'm fine." He reached for the glass in Telma's hand, taking a sip of the water. He placed it on the floor next to him. Link shivered, tightened the position he was curled up in. Slowly, he turned his head away from the plump woman next to him. He gritted his teeth and tried to hold back, he didn't want to worry the woman any more than he had to: she had done enough for him already. But, she had already noticed his feared expression, and that he hadn't eaten a single thing she had brought him.
Telma sighed and frowned. She knew the boy was troubled, but she was oblivious to how much trouble he had dug himself into. She grabbed Link's shoulders and pulled him to her chest. She placed her hand on his head, and rubbed his back. She put her head down next to his ear and whispered, "Link, I care for you. Please, if anything is wrong, come to me. I know things are hard for you right now. But, I promise, everything will turn out alright." She tightened her grip on the boy – she didn't want to let go of him. Link only gritted his teeth harder and was fighting back the tears trying to make home in his eyes.
But, Telma heard her name being called by a drunken man in the main hall of the pub. She sighed, releasing the boy from her grasp and leaning him back up against his wall. "Why don't you climb onto that sofa? There are blankets in the closet over there if you're cold." She nudged her shoulder to the doors on her right. Folding her arms, she eyed the boy's eyes: sunken in with dark bags they carried. "That's wasn't a suggestion, that was an order. You need some rest."
The blonde refused to look back at the plump woman, but he knew she wouldn't leave until he attempted to make an effort. He sighed, nodded, and began to pull himself to his feet. Slight remnants of pain singed in his ankle as he placed weight on it. Link picked up on the lift of Telma's frown as he sat himself on the edge of the couch. He still couldn't look her directly in the eye, though. He felt waterworks form along his eyelids, he blinked them away quickly. She couldn't see it.
The plump woman sighed silently, turned her back to the boy, and returned to the main hall of the pub. She had to take care of the ruckus before it turned to disaster. Link cracked a peek and espied Telma turn a corner: he was alone and not visible to anyone or anything. Slowly, Link pulled his knees up to the seat: he rested his head on them as he held them tightly in place. That was when he caved: silently, the teardrops freed themselves from his eyes – they trickled down the side of his cheeks, dripping off his chin and onto the couch.
He felt so empty. He wanted to give up. It had been a lonely time coming ever since she left. After creating such a bond, watching it get crushed right before his eyes hurt. He felt so unneeded. Back in Ordon, they all figured out how to live on without him – he had no job when he returned. The goddesses didn't even need him anymore – unless this mental roller coaster was all of their doing, playing with him like a voodoo doll. He only felt like a nuisance. Since Zelda had found him in his basement, she only was on his tail. He only annoyed her; he only messed up and disappointed her; he had failed to meet her expectations. He only felt that he failed himself, with all the situations he couldn't handle after she left. He couldn't do anything without her anymore.
Once he felt his eyes dry up, he sat himself back up – taking the edge of his sleeve and dried his eyes. Telma caught a peek of the boy hiding his evidence as she turned the corner. She sighed. He was not alright. But she knew that already. She had to stop lying to herself about the boy: Link needed her. Link needed them all. She grabbed yet another piece of bread from behind the counter, enveloping it in a small towel. Excusing herself from her customers, Telma paced to the side room to find Link leaning back against the wall. But, he rested on the small sofa this time. She slightly smiled, she was at least glad he wasn't on the musty and dusty floor anymore.
Taking one of Link's hands, she placed the bread in his palm and wrapped his fingers around it for him. He sat there and watched the woman play with his hand. When she finished, he looked up at her, confused. Her eyebrows were scrunched, but obviously not due to anger. "Eat," she demanded of him. Telma wanted to make sure he ate; she didn't want him collapsing on her due to how thin he was becoming.
Link groaned and nibbled off small bits off the crust of the bread, hoping it would convince her to let him be. His face looked down while his eyes flickered over at the woman who stood there, towering over him. He wanted to throw the bread down – refuse to eat it; but, he didn't want to ruin Telma's beneficial intentions. He only whimpered underneath his breath, hoping she wouldn't notice. But the woman snapped her head back to staring at him. He looked back down at himself immediately. He wasn't going to admit to being a coward.
Telma knelt down to the boy. "Tell me," she whispered to him, "what is so wrong, dear? Is it more than the absence of Midna? I saw you dry your eyes only minutes ago."
The words that left her lips incited the draining of color from Link's face. He just gritted his teeth and turned away. He loved the woman like a mother, but this was one thing he couldn't tell her. He didn't want her to know how miserable he was making himself. It would devastate her even more than she already was."N-no. I'm fine." He shook limitedly. Being sad was one thing: wanting to die and mutilate oneself was another. "I'm not a coward." He knew he was lying: cowards don't feel in such ways.
Telma sighed in defeat. Link wasn't going to open up anytime soon, and it was quite obvious to her. She already knew he was depressed over Midna's leaving, but something more was going on – something he didn't want to tell her. Watching the boy in his current state hurt Telma, she hated not having much to do for the boy. She wanted to help lift the weight of the world off his shoulders, but each time she attempted he refused. And besides what she had just forced him to swallow, he hadn't eaten. Back when they first met, he came in and ate her food up like a pig: but now she barely could get him to eat a crumb. Despite the duties placed on him, and the stress on Hyrule – those were better times for Link.
The two sat there in silence, but it was cut short by the shouting of a drunken man and a shatter of glass. Telma shot up and grumped to herself – something about hoping nobody was hurt. She turned to Link for a second, and smiled widely as he looked up at her, despite his expression being the same of a lost child's. "I'll be right back. Hopefully these idiots haven't broken my things, or themselves." She rolled her eyes sarcastically and quickly stepped into the main hall.
Link nodded and lightly smiled for the woman. Deep down, he didn't feel like putting a good expression on his face – he only did it for Telma. Sighing, he took another nibble from his bread, hoping to subdue the ache in heart from his longing and emptiness. He had no honest desire to eat, he wasn't physically hungry – at least he convinced himself of so. He didn't deserve the food before him, he had taken so much from her: emotionally and mentally. He couldn't take anything else.
"Get out! Get out!" Telma yelled to the drunken men: Link jumped by her harsh tone. "You drink much of my liquor, and then you get in a fist fight of a quarrel and hurt an innocent man! I must take him to the doctor now – I better not see you here ever again. And I mean it." She shoved the last of the men out. "I cannot leave you children alone, can I?" Her voice intensified as she spoke.
Link only sat and watched as Telma shooed the last of the men out of the pub, the injured man sat slumped in a chair. She took the man over her shoulder, and turned to Link. "I'll be back soon, hopefully." She shot a wavered glance at the drunken man. "Don't get in too much trouble!" She falsely smiled at the boy and waved before exiting the pub, closing the door behind her. Telma didn't feel safe with leaving Link alone, but giving him some sort of confidence may help, she figured.
As soon as he heard the doorknob click shut, Link shot up from his spot on the couch and went to the bar counter. He rummaged behind the scenes for paper and ink. He found an inkwell, pen, and blank receipts: it could do for his purposes. He dipped the pen in the ink and brought it to paper. He started writing with the typical Dear Telma, but he quickly shook his head and crumpled the paper. Link stood there, pen in hand, for several minutes. His face was scrunched up as he was pained by the words he wished to say. All he managed to write was I'm sorry. He left the scribbled receipt on the counter, visible to Telma for when she returned.
He felt his stomach churn over and over as the thoughts of what he was about to perform crossed his mind. Link gripped his head in his hands. He had burdened too many people in too quick of a time: Telma, Zelda, Eric, Ilia, his dead mother, and Seth. He couldn't handle the pressure of it all. He cursed at himself, going over to grab his boots, bundling his feet in them. Link pulled an ownerless scarf over his neck before heading back over to the bar counter.
Behind the counter was an array of a variety of wines, rums, whiskeys, liquors, vodkas and beers. Telma had arranged them in the strength of the alcohol residing in them. Link sighed, and pulled two full, unopened bottles of liquor off Telma's shelf. The boy reached into his wallet, pulling out a purple rupee, and placed it on Telma's counter – on top of the note. He figured it would be enough to cover the expense of the drinks he was taking.
Link reached for the front door of the bar. He twisted open the doorknob, cringing as he pushed open the door. He walked through the threshold, and closed the door behind him. He stared up the starry sky, hands hanging by his side, with a liquor bottle in each. Tears began to bubble up in his eyes, but he blinked them away. It was not time for that. Yet. Link sniffled, rubbed his nose with his sweater, and shivered. The late autumn night was growing colder by the minute.
Sighing, Link began to trek to the castle. He wanted to apologize to Zelda before he left completely. If he didn't do so, he would've burden more than he would have wanted to. He popped open the cork of one bottle with his thumb and brought it to his lips. He cringed. The caramel liquid was bitter and gross, like his soul. He knew what he was doing was dumb, stupid – yet he was going to continue doing it anyways. He could only think of what she would say to him for his actions. He imagined her in his head – he imagined that little imp sitting on his shoulders, giving all the advice he needed. She had already become the voice tramping around in Link's head.
She would tell him to stop. She would tell him what he was doing was stupid. It would all be out of love and care, though. "This is for almost dying." He brought he bottle back to his lips and took a shot-size gulp. Did he feel resentment for their whole time together? Or was it just that he felt a bitter regard toward the uncertainty of the end?
She would curse at him. Plead for an ear. Beg of him to listen to her. She would want him to stop. "This is actually dying. You scared me, so much." More of the tan alcohol disappeared into his mouth.
She would beg more. She would plead. She would cry for him. She would hold him, hit him; she would do anything to get his attention. She would try to knock some sense into him. "This is for leaving." He brought the bottle to his lips, but paused. "Leaving without a way of return or visiting." Another gulp.
Crying and tears. She would try her hardest to get some sense into him. She would use all she had left in her to get him. "This is for suckering me into saving that damned land of twilight." He took a larger gulp of the half empty bottle. No matter what he would say to her, she wouldn't believe him. She knew him better than he did – she knew when he was lying before he did. "This is for becoming my best friend – my lover." He swallowed even more of the drink this time. "And then leaving." He was almost finished the first bottle, and he wasn't even halfway to the castle.
She would be speechless at that, honestly. But she would trudge on, trying her hardest to get him to think straight. She would to anything for the boy. "This is for making me feel like hell." Tears started to stream down his cheeks as he finished the last of the bottle. She would have felt hopeless by now. Despite giving her all, at this point, she probably would've given up on changing his mind.
Link… I… See you.
The words repeated themselves in his mind. He cringed and doubled over. He hurt even more. Link dug his fingernails into the side of his arm until a crimson fluid trickled out. "Damn it." He threw the empty bottle on the ground and it shattered on impact. His head ached and heart raced; his eyes bloodshot and raw. The liquor he chugged hasn't even hit his system yet – he consumed it too quickly for it all to affect him. He fell to his knees as he buried his face in his hands, covering the mass flood of tears trailing his cheeks. The glass on the ground cut up the boy's knees as he sat there, crying.
Sick of the cold, Link stood again. He was determined to get to the castle. He began walking normally, but too quickly he began to stumble around alleyways, unable to control himself. He was tripping and bumping into everything. Shortly, Link gave up on trying to get anywhere and leaned up against a wall of a building. He sighed and popped the cork off the second bottle of liquor.
"Here goes nothing," the words escaped his mouth slurred as he brought the second bottle to his lips. He swallowed approximately a third of the bottle before allowing his lungs to breathe. He smirked and stared at the bottle. "Link, you're such a filthy coward and liar." He brought the bottle back up to his lips and swallowed another third, then returned it back to where his hands hung at his sides. "I wouldn't be here, doing this, if I hadn't met her. Hell, I wouldn't be like this if those goddesses didn't make me their damned hero. I wouldn't be this miserable – I wouldn't be the worthless coward that I've become." He laughed in a saddened way, as tears streamed down his cheeks. Link was begging to feel sick to himself, but went ahead and drank more of the liquor. "I give up," he sobbed, removing the bottle from his lips.
He felt like he had been hit by a train: everything hurt – his heart, his head, his body, his arms, his legs. He panted, trying to keep his cries hidden behind his pain. Surely, nobody wanted to be woke up by a drunk, sad man in the middle of the night. He gritted his teeth to keep his screams deep in his throat. He forced his eyelids shut so he didn't have to see the world around him become a blurry mess as the alcohol entered his blood. He allowed the tears to continue to fall.
Then the bottle returned to his lips one last time, taking a big gulp before his knees failed from underneath him and he fell to the alley ground. "Sh-shit," he cursed, slowly and slurred. His felt each part of him began to become pungent with pain. Still, despite all the liquor he had drank and how drunk he was becoming, he still couldn't forget her. If she were still here, he probably wouldn't be like this. He wouldn't feel so empty; he wouldn't feel as if a part of him was missing.
"Goddesses damn it." Link brought the bottle to his face, but before he took a drink he opened his eyes. He couldn't see straight anymore – it was all a blur. He choked before releasing another river of tears. "I'm sorry, Midna. I can't do this anymore. I'm a pitiful failure." He shoved the bottle to his lips and took another gulp. He then removed it, and threw the almost empty bottle across the alley. He bent his knees up and placed his head between them.
Who knows if I'll wake up again? I really hope not. I've felt like hell and I don't want to anymore. This life I live is as miserable and empty as it is, I just want to be relieved of my misery. Things are starting to fade. I think I'm starting to fall asleep. Actually, I don't know. Maybe I'm dying? Who knows.
Link's eyes slowly closed, his breathing slowed, and he reeked of alcohol and sweat. It was the middle of the night and he was passed out in the middle of an alleyway in the depths of castle town. An eerie wind blew through the streets that night. A cold chill burdened the bones of all those who knew him. The goddesses wanted them to know that their hero was on heaven's doorstep, but hell's sanctuary.
A/N: This chapter broke my heart to write, but I needed to get it done. I hope you like it! Reviews are would wonderful... please send me some?