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The Winter Solstice was something she should have been celebrating, but celebrations tended to look a little different over time. Had she still been in school, it might’ve looked like a huge bonfire with her friends and enough drinking for a lifetime. Had she been a child at home, it might’ve consisted of all the sweets she could eat and a firework show. As an adult with a full time job, her Solstice celebration consisted of a work party catered by one of Hyrule’s most esteemed restaurants: Rito’s Nest. The entire company had provided everything: transportation to Hebra, rooms at the Rito Inn, and an open bar that would let them all compensate for the amount of money the company did not pay them.
It was not a terrible way to celebrate at all. Zelda had been looking forward to her first work party ever since she’d started with Sheikah Inc., but never had she expected it to go so…poorly. So poorly, in fact, that she was already hiding in the bathroom.
Her fingers clutched the marble sink of the counter and she fixed her glare on the pathetic woman in the mirror. By all accounts, she looked better than she felt: her updo was in place and the curls framing her face had yet to come undone; her makeup was set and her waterproof mascara hadn’t smudged; her off-the-shoulder red dress had made several coworkers compliment her appearance–but there was a fiery ball of discomfort that had made a home in her chest. She did not want to step foot back into the main room of Rito’s Nest. She wanted to find an empty stall and sit in it until the building closed, otherwise her stubborn emotions were going to spill out of her like water.
This was not how she wanted this night to go. Her knuckles were white as the snow coating the mountain peaks just outside of the restaurant windows.
“Here.” A glass clinked onto the counter just at the edge of her vision. In it swirled a glittering, golden liquid whose movement reminded her of a snowstorm. It must have been one of the fancy restaurant drinks. “Seems like you could use one. Talk to me, Zel.”
Her gaze moved from her reflection to the one of her friend, who was looking at her with wise green eyes expecting an answer for why she’d fled so quickly from their table. Riju could always read right through her, and she wanted nothing more than to melt through the floor. Still, the thought of bringing her medicine to soothe her aching heart was more appreciated than Riju would ever know. It was certainly more than Zelda could express.
Shaky fingers lifted the glass. She didn’t bother to ask what was in it, but when she took a swig, it burned. Maybe she should’ve asked, because whatever this was, it was strong. She would need about three more of these to make it through the night.
“I didn’t know—“ She cut herself off with a groan, turning to face her friend so that she could lean back against the counter. “Do you remember freshman year? When our sorority ice breaker was all about regrets and secrets?” Because nothing brought people together quite like trauma bonding.
“I always thought that was a stupid idea,” Riju replied, crossing her arms over her chest. “What happened to ‘what’s your favorite color,’ or ‘where’d you grow up’?”
Zelda snorted into her drink. Clearly, times had changed.
“Yeah, well,” she continued, her fingers drumming against the glass, “You know how I talked about my best friend—er, ex- best friend, I guess? How I sort of…ghosted him once we started college?” She took another swig. The liquor should have been smooth, but what she was about to say made it feel like sludge down her throat, forcing her to swallow thickly. Her voice was small when she said, “He’s here.”
Riju stared at her as if she’d just said the most incredulous thing. She supposed that, had she not been one-hundred percent certain, she could admit the odds of seeing him of all people were low. But she knew who she’d seen, with black sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She recognized him like they’d never spent a day apart.
“What do you mean, here? Like, with someone from work?” Riju asked, and for some reason, the idea of that made Zelda feel sick. It was a relief to shake her head and say,
“No, I think he’s catering.”
“Are you sure?”
“Riju, I would know him anywhere.”
She’d always thought her best friend was cute. Link was blessed with wild blonde hair that could never be tamed and eyes as blue and clear as the sky on a summer’s day. Freckles brushed over his nose in a way she always envied, and his knack for mischief and athletics kept him lithe and fit. Zelda would never admit how many times she’d thought about touching his arms or feeling the brush of his fingers against her skin.
She had the pleasure of watching him grow up, of going through every phase of life with him. It was by miracle, and maybe several nights begging and making promises to her father on her part, that they were still allowed to hang out as much as they always had as children.
But high school was over, and the next chapter of life had already started its own page. Zelda had been accepted to her dream college, Sheikah Tech University, and Link had scored a scholarship to Central Hyrule University. Their days of spending weekends at each other's houses and taking over the local library’s couches for their study sessions was coming to an end.
Maybe that was what led to their conversation; in all honesty, Zelda wasn’t sure how they’d gotten here. All she knew was that it was the last night they had together before she left for her dorm, and she was getting things off of her chest that they’d never really talked about before.
“I just think it’s so stupid!” she whispered, adjusting her head on her pillow. Sure, Link had a bed, but they were both sprawled across his bedroom floor instead, comfortable on her sleeping bag. The floor was always far more comfortable a place to have conversations like this, and she liked to lay next to him. When she wasn’t allowed in bed with him, this was the best compromise. “Why does anyone even care about whether or not you’ve kissed anyone? Or anything else, for that matter? It’s not their business. What’s the big deal anyway?”
She’d been thinking a lot about how she’d missed out on plenty of experiences considered typical for a girl her age. She’d never touched anyone, never dated anyone, never so much as kissed another person, and too much of that had to do with the fact that she was horribly, irrevocably in love with her best friend. Her best friend who was always by her side, but could do so much better than her. She told herself that was the reason she’d never said anything, and she didn’t think she ever would. They would go off to college and maybe the distance was what she needed to make the stubborn feelings fade. But no matter her feelings, it was…nice to vent it out every once in a while.
“I think people just…I dunno, like the idea of giving a piece of themselves to someone else for the first time.” Link suggested, and it made enough sense that Zelda huffed. She’d only ever wanted to give a piece of herself to the boy laying next to her. Maybe that was her problem. Her hands came up to hide her face, her cheeks burning like someone had set her on fire.
“People are going to think I’m so lame for never having kissed anyone,” she muttered.
“Me either,” Link said. She could almost hear his shrug, as if it wasn’t as big of a deal to him as it was to her. “But hey, it’s like you said, it’s no one’s business what you’ve done or haven’t done. If you don’t want to tell anyone that, then don’t tell them! Boys have cooties anyway.”
Zelda picked up the nearest fallen pillow and threw it at him.
“So you admit you have some sort of boy disease,” she declared, scooting away from him. He was faster than her, though, always faster, and his arm latched around her waist, yanking her back against him as he cackled.
“I’m going to give all of my boy cooties to you, and you’re going to take them to college and give them to all your friends.”
She squirmed, fighting the laughter that threatened to break past her lips.
“You’re not funny,” she declared, but it was well past midnight, and he was funny enough when it wasn’t the time of night that made everything hilarious.
“You’re right. I’m hysterical.”
“If I hadn’t thrown the pillow, I’d smother you with it.”
Link tsk-ed at her and gave her a playful squeeze.
“Zelda, Zelda, just admit you think I’m the greatest.”
“You’re the worst.”
“Denial is the first stage. Let’s skip to acceptance.”
Zelda huffed and tried to wrestle free from his arms, but the tighter he held her, the less she really wanted to escape. Her chest ached; she wanted to be like this forever. But she knew that life didn’t work in the way that her stories did. Her bookshelf was lined with romance novels harboring cracked spines, all about how the boy gets the girl, the best friends fall in love, the girl wins the heart of her boy through a heartfelt confession—but they were going to go to college, and he was going to find a girlfriend, and his arms would be around her, pulling her to his chest, and Zelda would be nothing more than a friend he’s had since childhood.
“I accept that you’re a pain in my ass,” she said.
“So eloquent. How is it that you’ve never charmed anyone into kissing you?”
Because you’re too stupid to get that I want you to kiss me.
“Because I refuse to play into society’s expectations of the timeline of life,” she replied instead. She didn’t need to see him to know that Link had rolled his eyes.
“Time is a suggestion.”
“Time is very much real, and we’re running out of it.”
The reminder made them both quiet. Link’s arms retracted to his sides and the loss of his warmth, the loss of him made Zelda wish she’d never said anything. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth and took a breath, letting her eyes close so that she didn’t have to see his expression if he thought what she was going to say was stupid.
“I just wish I could get the firsts over with, you know? So that maybe the pressure’ll go away.”
Link was too quiet. Zelda felt ill, like she’d said the wrong thing, and she didn’t know how to salvage the conversation he’d let drop. She ran through a thousand possibilities of a subject change in her head, but none of them sounded right. None of them would be enough to erase the air of awkwardness she’d dropped between them. She contemplated sitting up and telling him that it really wasn’t a big deal, but to her surprise, he spoke,
“Maybe you could.”
Zelda turned her head, but he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was fixed firmly on the ceiling, but she could see even in the low light that his cheeks were tinted pink. She furrowed her brows, confused.
“Link, I leave for college tomorrow. I don’t think I’ll find anyone willing to kiss me just for the sake of kissing before then.”
Link swallowed. He looked nervous.
“I could kiss you.”
Zelda could have sworn she forgot how to breathe. Every piece of her body felt like it had been set on fire. She couldn’t possibly have heard him right, but he was sitting up and rambling, and very pointedly not looking at her.
“I mean, I haven’t kissed anyone either, so it’s not like we have to worry about disappointing someone who knows how to kiss, right? And–and wouldn’t you rather kiss someone you know and trust? At least, for the first time? I would. But you can say no if you don’t want to. I won’t, like, be upset or anything. It’s just a suggestion.”
She stared at him, mouth slightly open in surprise, and if he could’ve read her mind, all he would’ve heard was screaming. He made a lot of good points. If she had to kiss someone for the sake of getting it over with, she’d much rather it be someone she trusted. Someone she liked, even. But it was hard to focus on those points because Link wanted to kiss her. Maybe it wasn’t in a romantic sense, but he was offering to kiss her, and her heart was pounding so hard that it hurt, and her face felt like it was going to melt right off of her head. What if this was what she needed? What if she kissed him, and it made him like her the way she liked him? It was a stupid thought, but it was just stupid enough to give her hope. It took her a moment to find her voice, but she spoke just as he did,
“Nevermi–”
“I think that’s a brilliant idea.”
He finally looked at her. Something in her snapped seeing him look as flustered as she felt. She propped herself up onto her elbows and tilted her head, trying her very best to be as casual as possible about this.
“I mean,” she said, “you’re right. I know you, I trust you, and then we could both say that we’ve had a first kiss.”
“Yeah,” he replied absently, almost like he couldn’t believe she agreed. “Yeah, we… Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
It was quiet after that. It was only her and him in his childhood bedroom, staring at one another as if they were seeing each other for the first time. Zelda watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyes darted nervously between her own like he didn’t know where to look, and it was all she could do to keep her breathing steady as she waited to see what he would do.
Slowly, he turned his entire body to face her and crawled closer. She wondered if it would be easier if she sat up, but he moved until he was kneeling over her, and she was fighting for her breath when his eyes fell to her lips.
She’d imagined this moment many times before. Before she fell asleep some nights, she’d think about what it might feel like to kiss him. Maybe he’d set his hand on her cheek to steady her and pull her in for a kiss, or maybe he’d kiss her in the middle of one of her ramblings because he’d realize he liked her too much to not do that. Never did she imagine it going quite like this.
“Zel…” he whispered, loud enough for only her ears. It sent a shiver down her spine, made her think that maybe this could be real. “I just… Is this okay? Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she whispered back, hoping to whatever gods existed above that he hadn’t caught the hitch in her breath. “Let’s…get it over with.”
There was a brief nod from him, another torturous moment of silence, and then the gap was closed. His mouth, soft and warm and beautiful, was brushing her lips, and her stomach filled with the wildest of butterflies. It was hesitant and awkward, with neither of them knowing quite what they were doing, but when Link started to withdraw, it was too fast. Too fast and not enough. Acting on a whim, on thoughts that were anything but rational, Zelda lifted a hand to sink into his hair and pressed her mouth more firmly to his. A sound left him, something of utter surprise, but she didn’t let go. She kissed him, let her fingers wind through her hair, did what she could to make it impossible for him to doubt that she liked him.
And when he met her with equal fervor, when he leaned close enough to press his body to hers and parted his lips, she melted.
If they would’ve stopped there, if they would have kept it to kissing alone, everything might’ve turned out differently. They might have still been friends. Everything might’ve been perfectly fine. But they got carried away in the idea of firsts and of getting them over with, and Zelda had paid the price for it.
“I panicked,” she whispered, clutching her glass to her chest. Her eyes were fixed on a spot on the tile floor. Maybe this was a lot to admit out loud; she’d never spoken about it before. Not in detail. But she and Riju had seen the worst of each other, seen the late night breakdowns over finals and held hair back during wicked hangovers. A little bit of personal talk was nothing. “We had sex and I panicked. It hurt , Riju, and it’s not supposed to hurt. Everyone says it’s not supposed to hurt. So I…went to college and ghosted him. And I feel horrid.”
Riju’s hand fell on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze that was meant to be comforting. All Zelda could do was shake her head.
“I’m sorry, Zel,” she said.
“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Zelda continued, gripping the glass tighter. She was so frustrated with herself that the thought of flinging it against the wall crossed her mind. It took all of her self restraint to keep that from happening. “But I treated him like he did. And seeing him again… Gods.” She leaned her head back, shutting her eyes with a wince. “I liked him so much . And I know what I did hurt him. How am I supposed to go out there and face him?”
“Maybe you won’t have to,” Riju replied. “Maybe he won’t come around you.”
That didn’t make Zelda feel any better. Somehow, the thought that he would want to avoid her completely made her regret ever existing in the first place. But Riju was right. The chances of him going out of his way to do anything more than offer her an appetizer was low. And maybe if she found a table in the very corner…
“Can’t I just stay in the bathroom all night?” Zelda moped, slumping against the sink.
“That would be a very lame way to spend the Winter Solstice Party. As your friend, I refuse to let you be that pathetic.” Riju took her wrist and hauled her towards the bathroom door. With no room to protest (because it would be wasted breath), Zelda downed the rest of her drink and followed suit.
To her relief, there was no sign of Link. Quickly, they pushed through the crowd to the bar, and only when there was another swirling, golden drink in her hand (Hylia’s Punch) did she feel confident enough to find a table.
There was one towards the back of Rito’s Nest, tucked into a corner and flanked by windows that gave them a lovely view of the snowy banks of Hebra. Cozy, perfect, and she was halfway through her second drink when her traitorous eyes found the person she wanted so desperately to avoid.
She hadn’t gotten much more than a glimpse of him before, but there was no mistaking him now. His wild blonde hair had gotten longer, so long that it was pulled back into a bun that made her mouth dry. He wore all black: shirt, tie, pants, which was new, but it fit him incredibly , unfairly well. He held a tray of deviled eggs up with an arm that looked like it spent all day lifting heavy things, and his eyes were just the same as they’d always been; they were bright and easy, and they’d just landed on her.
Zelda’s throat constricted, her heart slamming against her ribs, and she wanted nothing more than to grant it the opportunity to escape, but her feet felt glued to the floor beneath his gaze. He must have recognized her, because his lips parted and his brows raised under his bangs, and she was grateful she didn’t appear as much of a mess as she felt. He looked like he wanted nothing more than to cross the room to her, and she didn’t know what she’d do if he did. Would he be kind? Angry? He had every right to be upset with her after what she’d done. If he marched over and shoved the tray of eggs into her face, she wouldn’t blame him.
But gods, he was handsome. He was as lovely as she remembered him being. He’d grown well into a sharp jawline and high cheekbones, his face the perfect picture of a sculpted bust. Zelda tried for a smile, but the stretch of her lips felt awkward and her hands were clammy and her heels were suddenly far too tight—
Someone passed in front of him. He offered them an egg, and the spell was broken.
Zelda turned away with burning cheeks and eyes that stung.
“ That’s him?” Riju asked, her brows high. Pathetically, she nodded. Riju’s low whistle followed. “Zelda, I know things might not have ended pretty with him, but if you don’t talk to him, I will.”
Zelda looked at her, brows furrowed, “You don’t like men.”
“I never said I’d talk to him for me.”
She slumped into the nearest chair, pinching the bridge of her nose because she couldn’t rub her face without messing up her makeup. That was the last thing she needed. So much for Riju supporting her decision to try and pretend she never saw him.
“The Goddesses must really hate me,” she muttered. “Is it not enough that I feel guilty on a daily basis?” She had never stopped thinking about him, even though she tried to convince herself that she had.
“Well, maybe this is your chance to make amends. Talk to him, explain things, he might understand.” From across the table, Riju set her hand on her arm. It was a gesture Zelda appreciated, but it didn’t make her feel any better.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I mean…no matter what, there’s no excuse for how I treated him.” No excuse, except for the fact that she was young and stupid and had panicked. Five additional years of experience under her belt had done nothing but point out the errors of her ways, but that didn’t mean she could fix it. What could she say? I’m sorry for ghosting you like you weren’t my best friend for almost eighteen years?
“Maybe not, but-“
“Would you ladies like to try a deviled egg?”
Zelda ached. His voice sounded just the way it had five years ago; smooth, steady, and nothing close to the desperate, shattered edge it had to it when he’d left her that final voicemail, begging to know what he’d done wrong. She never should’ve listened to it. She never should’ve done what she had in the first place. Reluctantly, she dragged her gaze from the glass in her hand to the tray of deviled eggs, up to the face of the boy she’d once called her best friend. Her heart plummeted from her throat to her stomach.
He still had those freckles.
And he was looking at her like he couldn’t believe she was sitting in front of him.
“Thank you,” Zelda replied, her voice tight as she took one of the tiny plastic plates off of the tray.
“I’ve heard Rito’s Nest prides itself on all things egg-based,” Riju said, picking one of her own. Link smiled. His dimples tore her heart to shreds.
“That we do. All cuccoo eggs, of course.”
She hated that she had to fight back a snort. She didn’t know much about the biology of the Rito—frankly, that wasn’t her area of interest anyway—but she was certain the high-end restaurant would use only the best cuccoo eggs.
“Oh, certainly.”
Link’s gaze, electric blue, fell back onto Zelda. She shifted beneath it, her chair no longer as comfortable as it had looked when she first succumbed to her embarrassment on it.
“Zelda,” he greeted with a nod of his head. Her name on his lips made her chest clench. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Five years. Five years of guilt trapped her tongue when she tried to respond, tried to explain what had happened. Instead, all she could get out was,
“You too.” That wasn’t good enough. Link hesitated, as if he wanted to say more, and she knew if she didn’t speak now, that he was going to walk away, and his job would be the only thing keeping them civil. Yet seeing him again, seeing the way he’d grown, seeing the way he still looked at her like she was something to him, made her desperate to keep him there. “I didn’t know you worked at Rito’s Nest.”
His mouth twitched. If he was anything like her, bitter and passive aggressive, he might’ve told her that, yeah, she wouldn’t know that because she hadn’t made an effort to stay relevant in his life after high school—but Link was not like her. Link was gentle and patient, and instead of chastising her, he smiled. He smiled like she’d given him a gift just by speaking to him.
“They offered me a position when I finished culinary school. Of course, I have to work my way up to being a chef, but catering isn’t too bad. The tips can be generous.”
“I thought your major was healthcare? You wanted to be a medic.”
Link’s smile turned sheepish. His shoulders shrugged half-heartedly.
“Turns out medical school isn’t for me. I’m better at the science of cooking.”
“Oh.”
So much had changed.
“What about you?” he asked quickly, as if there was a way to salvage the conversation she’d so easily killed. “You work at Sheikah Industries now, right? That’s cool. What do you do?”
For a brief moment, her heart swelled with naive hope that he knew such a thing because he’d kept tabs on her. Even if she wasn’t speaking to him, even if she’d treated him so piss poorly, he’d cared enough to check in on her life without her knowing.
Then she remembered where she was: her company’s Solstice party that his company was catering, and she deflated.
“I assist in inventing and improving upon the Sheikah technology we use throughout Hyrule,” she answered. “It might not sound like much, but it’s–”
“Please,” Riju scoffed, shaking her head. Zelda kicked her under the table, but it did nothing to stop her friend’s lecture. “Zelda loves to downplay her job. I tell her all the time that it’s alright to take pride in her work; she doesn’t have to be so humble all the time! She’s currently a project lead on the latest version of the Sheikah Slate. When it comes out, we’ll all be texting and calling on her creation.”
Zelda blushed, keeping her eyes on the drink in her hands.
“Wow,” Link said. She could hear that he was impressed, and it made a wicked part of her very happy. “I mean, I’m not surprised. She’s always been brilliant.”
He wasn’t helping.
“Link-” But she was cut off by another server, a Rito with white feathers, who gave Link a nudge and said,
“Your next round is out. Better finish handing out those eggs.”
Link gave them both a smile, and then he was gone. Zelda slumped into her seat, wondering how she could already be exhausted from one simple conversation.
By the time the restaurant was closing and their allotted Winter Solstice party time was over, Zelda felt loads better. She’d eaten, had a few drinks, and was ready to carry on with their evening plan of heading out to a local bar. With no work the following day, she and Riju were going to stay out as late as possible having a good time, and she was a little eager to get out of the stuffy Rito’s Nest. Well, she was the one that made it stuffy, what with the awkward glances at Link from across the building, but all of that was over now.
She pulled her purse onto her shoulder and followed the wave of employees to the door, but before she could set foot into the icy air outside, someone was calling her name. Someone whose voice she knew as well as she knew her own. She’d been so close to leaving, to never seeing him again–but was that what she wanted? To cast him aside and try to no avail to pretend he didn’t exist? He’d been so pleasant to her all night; he hasn't mentioned a thing. Of course, he’d also been working, which might’ve been the reason nothing had come up. Against her better judgment (or maybe it was because the fact that he was calling out to her before she could leave made her feel a strange sort of hope), Zelda turned to face him.
“Zelda, wait,” Link said, now that he had reached her. There was a hint of desperation to his voice that she didn’t recognize, and he looked at her as if he was pleading. “My shift ends in an hour. Would it be possible to– Can we…talk? Please?”
Zelda swallowed. There it was. She did not have to be psychic to know what he wanted to talk about. She’d been afraid of this all night. They could certainly talk, but what would she say? What was there to say that would make any of this better? She did not know what to tell him, so she sat in quiet contemplation longer than she should’ve. Link’s face, for the first time all night, turned crestfallen. Sadness did not look like it belonged on him.
“We’re going to Hebra Brews,” she replied. It was within walking distance, but a club posed no real competition threat to a restaurant like Rito’s Nest, which meant that the proximity made a dangerous combination for people seeking a good night. She’d probably regret this later. “You can meet us there after your shift and…we can talk.”
Relief spread across his face like butter on a hot pan, and Zelda couldn’t help the way her lips curled into a slight smile.
“I’ll see you there.”
__________
He did see her there, and what a mistake it was. Two Goddess Punches at Rito’s Nest had been more than enough, but she’d ordered a Noble Pursuit at Hebra’s Brews anyway and had sipped on it the entire time she sat watching the doors. When Link arrived, all black tie and messy bun, Zelda tried her best not to metaphorically fold. They were not here to have a friendly conversation, she knew that. Still, it was hard to ignore the way he smiled at her.
Noble Pursuits were strong. He ordered one right away, and when she raised a brow at him, he gestured to hers with a shrug.
“I have some catching up to do,” he told her. Zelda hid her grin in her glass. At least they both were under the impression that this was a conversation best had under a little bit of influence.
“Take your time,” she replied. “I’m not going anywhere. And I’m definitely not getting any more sober.”
Link snickered and took a gulp of his drink. She watched him swallow, then cringe at the way it burned.
“I’m terrible at holding my liquor,” he admitted, setting his glass down on the bar. “Learned that the hard way.”
“I never would’ve guessed you’re a lightweight,” she said, leaning her elbow on the bar and her chin in her hand. “I suppose having a vacuum of a stomach for food doesn’t necessarily mean you can scarf down anything.”
“It definitely doesn’t.”
Zelda took another sip to suppress her laugh, but Link smiled anyway and turned his barstool just a bit more towards her.
“So,” he began, “you’re at Sheikah Inc. What’s that like? Do they tell you all their secrets?”
“Oh, yes. I know all the codes for our nuclear weapons,” she joked.
“ That could definitely be in better hands.”
Zelda couldn’t help herself. She elbowed him, which made him laugh. Gods, she missed his laugh. She missed how easy it was to talk to him, how steady and sure he made her feel. She missed him , and she had no one but herself to blame for that.
“It’s amazing,” she told him. “I get to study the workings of their technology and, well, like Riju said, help invent things that are going to improve our quality of life.”
“So when the new Sheikah Slate comes out, you’re going to get the billions of rupees that come in sales, right?” he said. She laughed so loud that a few other patrons turned to look at her.
“Yeah, the technicians and I’ll get maybe a twentieth of that. The rest of that’s going to line the CEO’s pockets,” she replied, taking another sip of her drink. “I don’t see him out here, drawing up blueprints and averaging percentages.”
“That bastard.”
“What about you? You said you’re trying to become a chef?” she asked. It felt…nice to catch up.
“Yeah, I figured out that I really like cooking when I got tired of eating microwave noodles. I didn’t expect to get hired on as a five-star chef first after graduation, so I’m working my way up at Rito’s Nest. The owner, Teba, said I have a promising outlook because the current chef’s going on paternity leave soon.”
“That’s wonderful! Will it be a permanent position?”
“I’m sure Rito’s Nest can afford two chefs.”
“I’ll have to swing by when you make your debut, then. You would make a great chef.”
Link smiled. It looked like she’d given him the world with her compliment, and Zelda looked away, taking another sip of her drink. The guilt had returned, ebbing away at her comfort until she was sitting stiffly in her seat, trying to think of what to say next. She couldn’t understand why he was being so kind to her. Maybe that would change when they actually started talking , because she didn’t think he meant casual small talk about their jobs when he asked if they could speak.
“Zelda…” There was no more mirth to his voice. He sounded as melancholic as she felt. She knew what was coming. “I really missed you these last few years.”
She didn’t think she could take the ache in her chest much longer. Bitterly, she pushed her glass farther away from her and traced the ring of condensation left behind on the bar with her finger.
“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I… Gods, there’s no excuse for how I treated you.”
“Can I ask what happened…? I mean, at first I thought you’d just gotten busy with college, but…you never answered my calls or texts. I thought maybe I’d done something wrong.”
Zelda closed her eyes, flinching. She’d imagined this conversation a few times before, back when she hadn’t made peace with his absence in her life. Clearly, she still hadn’t.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He looked as confused as a puppy.
“I…didn’t?”
“No.” The only person that had done anything wrong was her. She needed him to know that. “I…was stupid. I panicked, and I didn’t know how to handle that panic, so I took it out on you, and I’m sorry.”
He still looked confused.
“I don’t understand.”
He would make her say it out loud, wouldn’t he?
“That night, when we…you know,” oh, saying it out loud to him was just as difficult as she thought it would be. She took a breath, then decided the best course of action was to just spit it out. Nothing she did was going to make this any easier. “I didn’t like it. At all. It hurt , and I didn’t know how to tell you that, or how to make it better.
“I thought…I thought something was wrong with me, because everybody always talked about it like it’s something so pleasurable to experience, so I had to be broken, and I panicked because I didn’t want to talk to you about it. I didn’t know how to. So I…I just… I avoided you. I avoided you until you gave up on me, and it was childish and stupid and I’m sorry.” Her eyes were stinging. Maybe sober would have been the better way to go about this, because maybe then she wouldn’t be so close to crying.
“Zelda.” She didn’t look up at him, so he set a hand on her arm. It sent warmth racing through every last part of her body, warmth that she didn’t deserve, and it was such a shock that she couldn’t help raising her eyes. His expression had turned serious, with a crease between his brows and his lips set into a hard line. The only thing glittering in his gaze now was some kind of sympathy. Like everything suddenly made sense, and he needed to comfort her. He really didn’t. “There is nothing wrong with you.”
She knew that now. There were a few people she’d been with afterwards that helped her understand neither of them had done or been anything wrong; they were just inexperienced. It was no one’s fault she hadn’t enjoyed her first time, but how she had treated him after was entirely her own doing. The guilt bit deeper, set on continuing its consummation of her until it swallowed her whole, but to hear it from Link, to hear him tell her with such surety that she was not the problem, made her feel just a little better.
“I’m sorry,” she told him anyway. “I didn’t know how to communicate what I needed, and that’s not your fault–”
“It’s not your fault, either,” he assured her. The hold he had on her arm tightened, his fingers giving her a squeeze. “I didn’t know what I was doing. I could’ve been a lot more attentive to you and how you were feeling. I should’ve helped ease you into it and make sure you were having a good time. I didn’t know how…awful it was for you.”
“...it wasn’t completely awful,” she murmured, averting her gaze. “But I…could’ve… I should’ve said something. I shouldn’t have ghosted you.”
“I can’t say I blame you.” He sounded sheepish. “I mean, I did some experimenting in college. Your first time getting…uh…penetrated can be…not so fun. I…ghosted someone too after that.”
Zelda stared at him, her eyes wide.
“You– I-”
“Yeah, well, um, I just– You’re not alone, is what I mean. And it’s better than what I thought, you know? I thought you hated me because I’d done something wrong.”
“I could never hate you, Link.” She set what she hoped was a reassuring hand over his. “I just… Gods. I can’t believe I had sex with and then ghosted my best friend.”
To her utter surprise, Link laughed. He laughed as if it didn’t bother him as much as it bothered her, and that couldn’t be true. But she didn’t get to say that, because he was speaking again,
“If I could go back in time and do it again, I swear I’d make sure I’d get it right.”
Zelda’s mouth went dry. She’d heard him, had processed what he’d said faster than she would’ve expected to, but her response did not come as quickly because she was reeling . Around a tongue that felt stuck to the roof of her mouth, she asked,
“You would do it again?”
She met his eyes. Again, his gaze had changed and that trace of sympathy was gone. Replacing it sat an expression she’d never quite seen on his face before. There was no fluster, no hint that he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. He looked at her like she was the last drop of pure water in the world and he was on the brink of succumbing to his thirst. He looked at her like it hurt that he did not have her. He looked at her, looked at her face and dress and finally her lips, and she swallowed.
When he spoke, his voice was a quiet sort of desperate that she couldn’t be sure was the doing of the alcohol,
“I would do anything to have an opportunity to fix my mistakes.”
So would she.
Something precious in her snapped. In the middle of the bar, Zelda let go of every ounce of decorum she had left and leaned forward, crashing her lips against his. She needed to know how he tasted now, how he felt after five years of separation, because she felt an urgency to have him closer and closer, to feel him against her so she could know for sure that he was real. That he did not hate her for the things she’d done. That he wanted to right their wrongs as badly as she did.
There was no hesitation, no moment of surprise on Link’s end. He met her eagerly, as if he’d been waiting his whole life for this, and the thought made liquid heat puddle in her very core. His hand, warm and heavy, dropped to her thigh, and she craved to feel it without her thermal tights getting in the way. She clawed her fingers into his hair, marveling at how soft it felt, as if there had been no change to his routine other than simply letting it grow. He tasted like the remnants of their Noble Pursuit, and she wanted to drink him dry.
It was hard to hear over the music, but Zelda was almost certain she’d heard him groan something against her lips. She’d certainly felt it, met his parted lips with her own, but if they ventured that far now, she worried she’d never stop.
She broke away from him with a gasp for air. His blue eyes were dazed, like she was his high, and her red lipstick was smeared over his lips. She thumbed over the streaks with a stupid grin, ridiculously proud of herself.
“Now that’s a first kiss,” he said, giving her thigh a squeeze that made her dizzy. Or maybe that was the alcohol she’d consumed. Either way, she laughed and dropped her hands so that she could take both of his.
“I have a room at Rito’s Inn, all paid for by my work,” she told him, looking at him with a sly smile and a tilted head. “It’s well within walking distance, if you’re interested.”
“Holy Hylia, Zel,” he replied with a shake of his head. He was flustered , his hair starting to fall from his bun (all thanks to her), and Zelda couldn’t help the want that seized her very being. So when he looked at her, electric eyes full of eager desire, she wasted no time in sliding off her barstool and tugging him towards the exit. She never let go of his hand.
There was no time to complement the interior of Rito Inn’s guest rooms before Link had her up against the nearest wall, his lips pressing along the length of her neck. This was new, a development that made her gasp, pressing her head back in the hopes that he would give her more . His mouth was so warm, so attentive; Zelda dug her fingers into his hair, her nails scraping his scalp. His hair had already started to fall from its bun, but when she found his hair tie, she freed it the rest of the way and slipped it onto her wrist.
He made it so easy to melt beneath him, spoiling her with salacious kisses that made her knees weak.
“I hoped you’d kiss me like this,” she admitted, voice a bit strained.
“I’ve learned a thing or two since high school,” he replied, breath hot against her skin. “I’ve dreamed of showing you them more than I’d like to admit.”
As if in demonstration, one of his thighs pressed between her legs and, with a humiliating sort of desperation, she sagged against it. It rode her dress up to her hips, but she didn’t care. That ache for him, the one that had subsided with the length of the walk, was back in full force now, and it had her grinding down against him. A whimper drew from her throat; Link squeezed her hips harder.
“You’re making it very hard to breathe in this dress,” she slurred, trying to pull him back to her lips by his hair.
“Then let me take it off,” he replied like it was the easiest answer in the world. It was almost funny—he had no idea how badly she’d wanted him to rip her dress off all night.
“Please,” she said. As soon as Link so much as lifted his head, Zelda was on him, her mouth covering his. She wanted to steal the breath from his lungs, make him crave her until he’d never want anyone else ever again. She wanted to be selfish in the way she should’ve been five years ago. She felt his hands move, snaking behind her back, down to over her ass, and when he squeezed, she bit his lip.
“Careful,” he warned her, amusement clear in his voice, “you’ll make me bleed.”
“And if that’s the goal?”
“Kinky.”
Zelda snorted, dropping her face into his shoulder. Years later and he can still make her laugh like no one else can.
“Hold tight,” he told her as she weaved her arms around his neck. She felt his muscles flex around her as he lifted her clear off of her feet, so she hooked them behind his back. She had the brief, exciting thought of Link pressing her up against a wall and taking her just like this—but he set her on the large bed in the middle of the room and crawled atop her like a starving man eager for his last meal. His mouth covered hers and she let her hands roam up his strong arms, over his broad shoulders, down his chest and firm abdomen that flinched pleasantly beneath her fingertips. She found the buttons of his dress shirt and popped them one by one, as quickly as she could.
When he parted from her lips, Zelda brushed her mouth against his ear and said,
“I want to know how much you’ve learned.”
Her dress was already hiked to her hips. All Link had to do was hook his fingers in the waistband of her tights and yank them down her legs, taking her underwear with them. The air was cold, cooling her heated skin, but his warm hands were there to ignite a fire as they slid down the insides of her thighs. She shivered, breathless.
“The first thing I learned is that your body needs more stimulation than mine.” With ease, his thumb found her clit and moved in slow, torturous circles. Zelda squirmed beneath his touch with a sigh. “But I didn’t know how to go about touching you then. I wanted to; gods I wanted to.”
His eyes were fixed on her face, on the crease of her brows and the part of her lips, and she felt like she was going to shatter under his fingertips.
“You’re touching me now,” she said, sliding her fingers under his open shirt. His muscles were firm, his skin warm, and he leaned as easily into her touch as she pressed into his. “Keep touching me. Gods , keep touching me.”
Link’s lips quirked into a smirk.
“I can do better,” he replied, and before she could ask what he meant, his head was dipping between her thighs and his tongue was rolling warm and wet across her folds. Zelda’s head fell back with a moan, her hands flying into hair, working to make sure he didn’t lift his head. Sweet Hylia in heaven, don’t let this man lift his head. It was sweet, salacious bliss, reducing her to tremors beneath his mouth. Where he’d learned how to do this, she wouldn’t dare ask. What mattered was that he was using the skill on her , and she couldn’t help herself from speaking,
“Oh gods, you have no idea how badly I—“ Five years of guilt. Five years of craving his friendship again, of wondering what would happen if they tried again. Five years of imagining how it would feel if she communicated this time, told him just what she wanted, and then succumbing to the thought that she did not deserve a second chance. Five years of pent up emotions, all threatening to spill over under the influence of his tongue. “I've wanted this since I first set eyes on you again.”
Link hummed. If he wanted to say something, he didn’t want to say it badly enough to break the seal his lips had on her, and she wasn’t complaining. Her nails caught on his scalp when he dipped his tongue into her, teasing her with the promise of being full. Her legs were shaking already.
“ Link .” Forming words was becoming difficult. There was no comprehensible thought in her brain. She’d become a puddle beneath his ministrations, each flick of his tongue pulling her higher and higher, drawing her body taut. Her heels hooked around his shoulders, just another way to try and keep herself tethered to the earth. Then there were his fingers gliding so easily into her, crooking carefully like they were searching for something, and it didn’t take him long to find it. Her body couldn’t keep still beneath it all; she twitched and squirmed and her voice rose with a whimper.
Link was driving her absolutely wild. Between his hand and his tongue, she wouldn’t last. She was already floating, her place secured among the highest of clouds, and each wave of pleasure that wracked her body made her eyes sting. There was no time to warn him. The feeling came so quickly, so intensely, that she couldn’t get a word out. It was only a soft cry as the line snapped, as she plummeted back towards the world, squeezing the poor man between her thighs.
In the wake of her orgasm, his fingers slowed. Zelda only laid there, fighting to catch her breath as her descent to reality shifted into something featherlight.
“You sound so sweet,” Link murmured. She didn’t have to open her eyes to know that he was close, because his wet lips were brushing her forehead. She didn’t even mind. “I’ve always wanted to know that.”
“Always?” she managed.
“I didn’t offer to kiss you that night just to have the right to say I’d done it.”
It dawned on her slowly what he’d meant. Her heart was already racing; now, her chest just hurt. Zelda opened her eyes to see him, his fallen hair framing his face and his glistening lips and bright eyes, and drew him down for a soft, slow kiss. She let herself get completely lost in the presence of him. His fingertips ghosted up her arms, to her wrists, tugging them carefully from his hair so that he could lace their fingers.
“What else have you learned?” she whispered against his lips, because if he said any more, if he told her those three little words she’d always wanted to hear from him, then she would burst into tears and ruin the mood.
“I’ve learned how to be gentle,” he replied as he lifted his head to look down at her. One of his hands slipped free so that he could cradle her face, and there was a question in his eyes that they both already knew the answer to. Zelda hooked her legs around Link’s waist, leaning into his comforting hand.
“You’ve always been gentle with me,” she said. He offered her a half smile and repeated,
“I can do better.”
He wanted so badly to do better.
“I believe you,” she told him, brushing his shaggy bangs from his face. “And I can’t wait to see it.”
The corner of his mouth twitched and he ran his thumbs over her cheekbones.
“If you’re uncomfortable at all , tell me.” He sounded close to begging. “Promise me, Zelda.”
There was still an underlying guilt eager to make itself reacquainted with her at his words, but she had ruined this once before and would not repeat the mistakes of her past. Not when she was being blessed with the rare opportunity to redo this.
“I promise,” she replied, and she kept him from talking about it any further by pulling him back into another kiss. She would never get tired of kissing him, of getting to let him know how she felt in a way that words couldn’t express. He must have trusted her word, understood what she was trying to say, because he broke apart and shifted off the bed so he could remove his pants and undergarments just as he’d done hers: in one, eager go.
She tilted her head and eyed him, shameless in the way her lips formed a grin. He was hard and flushed, a bead of wet sitting at his tip, and if he hadn’t climbed back on the bed, she’d have offered to repay the favor and take him into her mouth.
He’d already positioned himself over again and lowered his hips to hers, a soft grind against her wetness that had him parting from her mouth with a gasp.
He was warm and solid, hard against the soft flesh of her body, and just the touch of him felt good enough to make her core ache. Zelda hummed, letting her mouth wander the length of his jawline and neck, savoring every grunt and pant that left his lips. They delighted her in a way she couldn’t appreciate five years ago, but now she wanted to swallow them whole and make him give her more.
Each time the length of him slid across her clit, it made her crave him all the more.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice strained. She dug one of her heels into his back to coax him to keep going. It was more than okay and there were plenty of ways to help him know that.
“I want all of you,” she told him. “It’s more than okay because I just want you .”
The raw sincerity behind them must’ve given him all he needed, because he cradled her cheek and kneeled upright. All the better for viewing purposes, she supposed.
“If you’re not ready—“
“I’m ready.”
He looked at her, then nodded. She watched him shift, gather himself in his hand, and press the head of him against her. Once he was aligned, his eyes never left his face. He’d watch her, be fully attentive to any sign of discomfort, wouldn’t he? She’d set a paranoia into him. Gods above, she needed to undo that. She wanted him to want her confidently, fearlessly. But regaining that right would take time she wasn’t guaranteed to have. She would just have to do her best to reassure him.
Zelda took a deep breath and nodded, and her body tensed against her will with the intrusion. Link’s hand on her hip gave her a gentle squeeze and he paused.
“Are you okay?” he asked, and it couldn’t have been more clear to her that he was going to take this slowly. It was one of the sweetest things she’d ever experienced, and though her other partners had done the same, it was different coming from him. Everything was different with him. But she wanted him to stop worrying and enjoy himself. She wanted to rid him of the fear of hurting her.
“I’m okay,” she replied, wrapping her fingers around his arm. “It doesn’t hurt.” And it didn’t. It was nothing like her first time had been; her body was ready and welcoming, the wetness between her legs making it easy for him to glide in, and now that she knew what it felt like to be stretched by another, it was tolerable. Maybe not the world’s most comfortable feeling at first, but she would adjust.
Link’s face and silent gasp as their hips pressed flush together made her wish her body would adjust faster.
“Worth the five year wait?” she teased, a smile on her lips. He gave a breathless laugh and ducked his head to kiss her.
“ So worth it. Gods, you’re so warm.”
“You can move,” she said, shifting just enough to make herself comfortable on the bed. But he hesitated.
“You’ll tell me if—“
“Link, I’m not made of glass.” She nudged his back with her heels and when that didn’t work, she rolled her hips into him. It sent a wave of pleasure racing down her spine and her head pressed back into the pillows. “I want you to move.”
With that, the hesitation in his expression melted into desire. He looked at her like she was the only thing in this room, the only person in the entire world, and he obliged her wish with pleasure. It started slow, a steady glide in and out, and Zelda’s eyes fluttered shut with a moan.
“Zel,” his voice was breathless all over again, “you’re so beautiful. I didn’t tell you that yet. You’ve always been beautiful but tonight, and like this—“
Her cheeks felt warm, her heart all but bursting in her chest. He couldn’t even find the words to say what he wanted to say. Her eyes burned with fresh tears, so she squeezed them tighter.
“Link,” she tried, but he’d picked up speed and the only thing she could coherently manage was his name.
Both of his hands gripped her waist, holding her in place, and her skin was hot where his palms met her. She’d always liked his hands, but watching them as they carried around trays that night had really done her in. She wanted them all over her body, not just stuck under the ripples of her dress skirt. She really should’ve taken that off.
Oh well.
He folded himself over her, his chest pressed to hers, and Zelda buried her face in his shoulder. Her arms lifted to wrap around him, one hand in his hair and the other digging her fingers into the fabric of his shirt.
“You’re so good,” she told him, gripping the strands of his wild hair in a fist. “You feel—“ She couldn’t focus enough to form the words. Frustration coursed through her veins; she needed him to know. She needed him to know how much he was driving her wild.
“I’ve wanted to try again for so long,” he said, hips moving with a rhythm that had her arching her back off of the mattress. “I always wanted it to be you.”
His confession settled into her dazed mind like it was a fact she’d always known. Of course he wanted it to be her, just as much as she wanted it to be him. It made sense. They made sense. If she had gotten drunk around him sooner, maybe they’d have made this revelation a lot earlier. Still, it made her want to cry.
“I’m here,” she hugged him tighter, squeezing him between her thighs. “It’s me now, and you’re so perfect.”
One of his hands moved, leaving the skin of her waist beneath her dress cold; she almost whined for him to put it back, to hold her against him and drive into her like a madman, but then his thumb was between her legs, making slow circles on her clit. Her eyes snapped open with a gasp, and he lifted his head to meet her gaze with a look that shattered her.
His blue eyes were bright enough to glow, drinking in the sight of her panting and squirming beneath him. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and he swallowed before saying,
“I’ve learned—just now—that I want to make you come again.”
And his rhythm began to reflect that, a quick in and out that opposed the slow motion of his thumb, but she knew without a doubt that beneath those watchful eyes, it would do its job.
Fuck.
She clawed a vice grip on the arm between her legs, moaning out some incomprehensible jumble of words her mind was too occupied to find. Link filled her perfectly, with each thrust leaving her body shaking. She would live, breathe, die by his body—would come undone for him if he so much as said the word.
Gods, she loved him. She’d never loved anyone the way she did him, and he would never understand the depths of that.
“Link, I-“ she tried, but there were little words that could break past the panting she was doing. Speaking took up too much of the breath she didn’t have. But he didn’t stop, didn’t lift his hand or slow his hips. He only lowered his head to kiss her, then pressed his forehead to hers with a soft murmur of,
“I know.”
She couldn’t pause to wonder just what it was he knew. She’d reached that cloud again, brought high by his movement, his fingers, him, and feeling his labored breathing fan against her lips, hearing his moans and gasps reach like sweet music to her ears, watching the roll of his eyes on thrusts that hit particularly deep—it all brought her to leap.
She felt like she was free falling, adrenaline and pleasure raking through her body like it was a drug she needed, and she dug her nails into the skin of his arm and his hair. His name tumbled from her lips in the form of a gasp. She plummeted, lower and lower and lower, until she crashed hard enough into the threshold to make it snap. Waves engulfed her, her body shaking, and Zelda was reduced to whimpers beneath him, beneath the sight of his beautiful smile.
“My Zel,” he marveled. “That’s my Zel.”
She tried to catch her breath, she really did. But, well, Link was above her, wild hair down and framing his face, with his black dress shirt hanging open, his sleeves rolled up, and he was still moving. Still riding her through the last tremors of her orgasm.
And his brows creased, and his lips parted, and when his hips stuttered, she tightened her hold around his waist to keep him there.
“Link,” she murmured, lifting her hands to cradle his face. She brought him closer, pressed her lips to his ear. “I want you to finish.”
The sound that left him was a broken cry, his body shuddering as it released all the passion it had built up. He must’ve came hard, because his head dropped to her shoulder and his entire form went limp against her, save for the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he gasped for air. Zelda grinned, all giddy and drunk and satisfied.
She’d done this to him, rendered him useless jelly. And he’d learned, gods had he learned, to please her in a way she couldn’t possibly forget.
She wondered, if she gave him the chance, would he do it again?
Gods, I hope.
—————
At first, Zelda thought the pounding was in her head. It certainly matched time with the throbbing reminder of just how much she’d had to drink, but the pounding went away as abruptly as it started, followed by the sound of a door squeaking open. Quiet voices convened just at the very edge of her hearing. Brows furrowed, she ignored the begging of her body to just stay still and slowly turned her head, curiosity turning to an unpleasant churn in her stomach. The door to her hotel room shut and turning to her with a tray of breakfast in his hands was her childhood best friend, looking just as disheveled as she felt. His long hair was in its natural wild state, his black button-up dress shirt crumpled and left open, and when he noticed she was awake, he smiled.
“Room service,” he explained, setting the tray down onto the bedside table. There was a bowl of oatmeal, a stack of waffles, fruit cups, and a pitcher of water. “I thought some breakfast might help relieve the hangovers.”
For a moment, all Zelda could do was stare at the horribly kind gesture as the memories of their night caught up with her. The feel of his body pressed to hers, the sounds of his breathy gasps against her ear, the warmth of the towel he’d used to gently wipe the makeup from her face. He hadn’t let her fall asleep after; he’d gotten her up from the bed, helped her wash up, helped her find and throw on her pajamas–
Her eyes blurred over and she wiped at them furiously. When she’d gathered enough courage to glance at him, the smile had fallen from his face.
“I…I know I should leave,” Link said, slowly lowering himself to sit on the bed with her. “But Zelda, I don’t want this to end the way it did five years ago. I don’t want to walk out of that door and never speak to you again. I meant what I said last night when–”
“Please,” she begged, pushing herself up on shaky arms. The world lurched around her, threatening to send her tumbling off of the bed, but she held fast because if she didn’t, she was positive her head would crack against the bedside table and she’d done enough damage to Link without him having to watch her bleed out.
“Zelda-”
“No.” She looked at him through her tears, at those blue eyes so full of hurt, and flinched from him when he reached for her. “I don’t– Why don’t you hate me?”
He looked as if her words struck him.
“What?”
“I hurt you. You can’t tell me I didn’t. We were inseparable for eighteen years, and it was ruined all in one night because I couldn’t just talk to you! For five years , I made you think you’d done something wrong! I read every single one of your texts, watched your calls go to voicemail, listened to every one that you left me, and I never tried. I didn’t want to try. And when you stopped trying, I was relieved because I prayed it meant it didn’t hurt anymore. I left you, didn’t bother after you’d given me the most intimate part of yourself, and now– Now you come in after all these years and you tell me that you genuinely wanted it, that you’d do it again. You treat me like a princess and take care of me and order me breakfast and I– There is no world in which I deserve this.”
There were hot tears streaming down her cheeks, her skin burning with embarrassment and shame. She could see it written all over his face how badly her treatment of him hurt, yet he’d come back to her. He’d gone to her hotel room with her and given her the affection she’d dreamed of since she was old enough to truly understand what love felt like, and she couldn’t understand why.
For a moment, he was quiet. His eyes fell to the white bed sheets, no longer watching her anguish, and for that she was grateful. But the longer the silence stretched on, the more sick she felt. Zelda turned to pull her legs from under the heavy sheets, opening her mouth to suggest that he leave, when he finally spoke,
“It did hurt.” His voice was low. “You knew me better than anyone else, in every way possible. I didn’t know what to do without you. I thought I’d fucked up suggesting that we kiss, that we have our first times together. I was so scared I’d coerced you into it somehow, that you didn’t want it, and that was why you never answered me.”
Her chest was tight.
“Link,” her voice cracked, but he shook his head.
“I’d lost my best friend. I had to start from scratch, knowing I would never make the connection I’d made with you with anyone else. I…was angry, Zelda. I was so confused and hurt and mad at you, but I never hated you. I could never hate you, because I didn’t think that whatever choice you’d made was something you made lightly. No matter what had really happened, I didn’t think you meant to hurt me.”
It felt like she was drowning, like her guilt was an ocean intent on drowning her. It filled her lungs and made it hard to breathe, but the words were spilling out of her like they were desperate to escape, to finally be spoken out loud.
“You think far too highly of me,” she admitted, ducking her head. “I wish I could say I didn’t mean to hurt you. Gods above, I wish I could say that. But…maybe I did. I was so upset, so angry that you seemed to have it so much easier, that maybe I wanted you to feel something like I felt. The pain, the confusion, the desperation to undo what we’d done. I was awful to you, Link. There are no words that can make you aware of just how…unfair to you I was, and no apology is going to undo what I’ve done. I can sit here and tell you that I know now, I understand what happened, I know what I did was wrong and immature, and that I’m so deeply sorry, but none of that changes anything. And I am. I am so, so sorry.”
There was a pause. The bed shifted under his weight. Zelda glanced his way, surprised that, despite their awful conversation, Link had moved closer.
“I will never understand what it was like for you,” he told her. “I will never understand what it’s like to be a woman, to experience things like sex in the way you do, and I can’t fault you for that. I…think I was in over my head. I really didn’t know enough about what we were doing to…to think about what it must’ve been like for you. But, uh, if I can be honest…” He met her gaze, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He was almost sheepish. “I was really relieved when you told me that that’s what happened. It…answered a lot of questions I’d been asking myself.”
“I don’t understand how you can be so…okay with this,” she replied and wiped at her eyes with her sleeves. He met her with a soft laugh.
“I’m not okay with it,” he corrected. She didn’t know what she expected to hear, but his reply still made her look away. He followed her back into her vision though, offering a smile she felt she didn’t deserve to see. “But when I saw you last night for the first time in so long, I…I didn’t want to be mad anymore. I thought that if I could just talk to you, if we could just sort out what really happened like adults, then it would be so much more worth it than avoiding you the entire night.”
Zelda leaned her head back against the headboard, wincing.
“I wanted to hide in the bathroom all night,” she admitted.
“That’s not a very fun way to spend a party.”
“That’s what Riju said.”
“I’m glad you decided to come out. I had no idea what I would even say to you, but I wanted to try.”
“Nothing like an egg to start a conversation,” she muttered sarcastically. Link shrugged his shoulders.
“They’re pretty good eggs.”
She wouldn’t know. She’d left hers untouched after he’d walked away, too absorbed in her bitter thoughts and miserable emotions to appreciate the appetizer.
“Even if you wanted to sort things out, I still… I don’t know. You know the truth now. You knew it before you even agreed to come back to the hotel with me. Anyone else might’ve…I don’t know, yelled at me? Told me how much of a bitch I was? Walked out after the sex? Why didn’t you do any of that? Why are you still here, helping me to bed and ordering breakfast?”
The widest smile of the morning crossed his face. Zelda’s brows furrowed; she didn’t think she’d said anything worth smiling at. But he laughed, short and loud, and shook his head.
“Gods, Zel, none of that sounds like me.” And he was right, but she wouldn’t say that out loud. “Honestly, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever known. You graduated top of our class and you’re out here inventing Sheikah gadgets for our everyday use. I don’t know how you haven’t pieced it together yet.”
Not a single thing he’d said had answered her question in any way. In fact, he just looked utterly amused. Her hand clenched on the pillow by her side, tempted to smack him with it.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“Zelda–” he leaned closer, as if the issue was her hearing and not the cryptic way he was talking– “I’m in love with you. I’ve been ridiculously head-over-heels with you since high school. If there was any sliver of a chance last night that I could somehow get the girl I love back into my life, I wasn’t going to ruin it by being a grudge-holding jerk.”
Her lurching world had come screeching to a halt at his words, the words she’d dreamed of hearing for the longest time. There was nothing but sincerity on his face, and he seemed so content with the confession he’d made, while her heart was thundering in her chest, blood rushing in her ears and under her cheeks, making them burn. Her eyes prickled and blurred all over again.
“You’re–?” she asked.
“Crazy, stupidly in love with you.”
This time, she let his gentle fingers brush the tear from her cheek. A broken giggle passed her lips.
“Say it again,” she requested. His smile almost reached his eyes.
“I love you,” he repeated, leaning closer. Her cheeks hurt from the stretch of her own ridiculous grin.
“Again.”
“I’m absolutely in love with you.” His forehead pressed to hers. His skin was warm against hers and, seeking that comfort, her hands went around his neck.
“I’ve wanted to hear that for so long,” she whispered.
“That makes two of us.”
But before she could even part her lips to say it back, Link was kissing her. His lips were slow and gentle, molding with hers like they were simply meant to be together, and Zelda melted. One of his hands threaded through her hair, sending her heart fluttering, and she decided that if she couldn’t say it back, she would show him.
She tilted her head just enough to deepen their kiss, her fingers sinking into the hair at the bottom of his neck. She held him in place, pressing him so close that she could feel the rise and fall of his breathing as his chest brushed hers. She would steal all the air from his lungs, kiss him until he sunk into the bed sheets, drag her hands along every contour of his body until she had it memorized.
One of her hands fell to his chest, where his open shirt allowed her to press her palm to his bare skin. She felt the hitch of his breath, the beat of his heart beneath his breast, and her lips curled into a smile around his. She drew a path from his heart to his abdomen, then ghosted towards his back.
That was when he parted from her with a groan that spoke to her very soul.
“Gods, Zelda, if you were an effective hangover cure, I would take you so quickly.”
She couldn’t help a laugh, but he was right. Her head was still aching, and all of her crying certainly didn’t help. They needed food and hydration, otherwise they were going to be miserable and useless for the rest of the day. She withdrew her fingers from his hair and beneath his shirt so he could grab the breakfast tray from the bedside table. She watched him, simply admiring him as he placed it carefully on the sheets, then poured them each a glass of water.
“Thank you,” she told him, “for everything.”
“The woman I love only deserves the best.”
She took the glass in her hand and smiled. She wasn’t able to take his hand, so she settled for placing hers on his arm.
“I love you, Link. I never stopped.”
He turned his head to her, his grin one of pure adoration.
“Hearing it is so much better than I ever could’ve imagined.”
__________
Once their breakfast had settled and their hangovers lessened, Zelda climbed atop him and made him say it again and again, I love you I love you I love you, until her world had narrowed to just her, her best friend, and the ironic endearment that their story, though nothing like the ones lining her shelves at home, was all the more romantic for the rocky road they’d taken. Books could be too perfect; that had been her error. This , this was real in every way.
And it was beautiful.
And to Riju’s text that dick better have been worth leaving me at this bar. hope your hangover sucks xoxo lol , Zelda sent a well overdue reunion picture of Link sleeping in her lap.