It took Ghirahim an embarrassing amount of time to realize that with Link off to take care of morning duties, he was now alone with his friends. The same ones he had been with yesterday, by the taste of things. He was going to have to make conversation with them now, wasn't he? But how would he do that without getting into topics he'd rather not discuss?

The food that Ghirahim had already managed to eat felt heavy in his… chest? Weird, didn't food usually go lower down, into the stomach area? Well, he supposed that it would if he were hylian, which he isn't. He's a demon. Who knows how he processes food?

What if they find out? What if they've already found out? What if they started asking him questions and got upset when he couldn't answer them? What if—

"I think I'd better use the bathroom too," Pipit suddenly speaks up, getting out of his seat rather quickly. "Watch over my food while I'm gone, will you, Fledge?"

"Sure thing," Fledge replies with a cheery smile, completely oblivious to how suspicious this situation is.

Pipit knew full well that Link was still in the restroom, and didn't say a thing about it until he went. This is clearly just an excuse to talk to the Sky Child alone. And judging by the way the senior had been looking and feeling this whole time, Ghirahim had a pretty good idea of just what he wanted said private conversation to be about.

But for once, he kept his mouth shut about it. Ghirahim knew that in the state of mind the other boy was in, Pipit would likely take whatever he would say to him now as further evidence that he couldn't be trusted. And though he knew it was probably justified, and he could very well deserve it, he felt a pang in his heart at the thought of this, a feeling no longer related to indigestion.

Instead, he turned his attention to Fledge. The jumpy boy seemed to have the same idea, a concerned frown on his lips. Ghirahim knew that frown would soon be accompanied by equally concerned words, and that wouldn't do. Not now.

Deflect, The sudden thought came to him. Find something bigger, grander, to take his focus. He can't question it if he no longer notices it.

Where are those ideas coming from? Past events he no longer remembered, no doubt. What sort of life did he live that skills like these were required? Why does he keep asking these questions when he knows he likely won't enjoy the answers?

Unfortunately, nothing very big or grand finds itself coming out of Ghirahim's mouth. Instead, he finds himself saying: "The weather up here is lovely today."

Ugh! Ghirahim would facepalm so hard right now if it wouldn't have just made this situation all the more ridiculous. The weather? Really? Of all the topics for small talk he could've chosen, it had to be that? He must be more out of sorts than he thought; how is he so—

"It is," Fledge said, his frown turning upwards slightly.

Wait, is he actually engaging with this?

"Well, except for the big storm the night before last. Wait." The boy seems to realize something, and his eyes widen. "Was that you, screaming that night? You and Link?"

Aaaaaaaand there it is. Ghirahim can feel his cheeks heating up. "I… apologize for that," he mumbles, subconsciously attempting to get swallowed up in the velvety folds of his cape.

"Hey, it's okay, I just wanted to make sure everything was alright. But oh man, that really scared me when it happened; I was in a dead sleep and then… I thought something really, awful was happening, you know?"

"Sorry."

"It's fine, really."

The two go silent for a while, just enjoying their food. Surprisingly, the silence isn't entirely an uncomfortable one.

But then, Ghirahim's gaze absentmindedly begins to wander the room.

And, as if by fate, eventually it lands on Zelda.

The Spirit Maiden doesn't seem very hungry. A plate of food sits before her, but it's mostly untouched. She stares down at her hands, folded neatly on the tabletop.

Until she isn't.

Slowly, but deliberately, her head raises.

Her clear blue eyes lock with Ghirahim's own deep brown ones.

It is as if a barbed hook buries itself into Ghirahim's heart. Yanking. Strings pulled taut. Strings flowing outward from endless, unyielding spools within the depths of those eyes.

On the surface it's a mixture of wary curiosity but deeper? Deeper, beneath the mask of innocence and purity…

Ghirahim stands up. Rather too quickly, from the way Fledge flinches. "Where are you going?"

"I need some fresh air," Ghirahim manages, his voice coming out much more breathlessly than he had intended it to. Then he's hurrying towards the door, before anyone can stop him or question him.

He knows he's just bringing on more attention to himself; he knows the other boys are all going to have questions later. But he also knows that he simply cannot stay in that room any longer. His senses are telling him, screaming at him, that something terrible would happen if he remained.