910 Words

Surprisingly, nobody has asked Link about his absence, or why he looks like a living corpse. The dark circles under his eyes haven't budged since they came near the start of his coma, and his shirt drapes over him in a way that barely hides how thin he's become. I know how it is, though. I've seen it.

I can see a bit of his bandages peeking out from under his collar. I sigh quietly, remembering when I put them on for him. He got really mad and kept trying to slap my hands away but I won in the end. 

Link participates in the conversation as if nothing was amiss, and most of the people around the table do the same. Zelda keeps casting me confused looks, sitting across from me. She gestures to him.

"Zelda, he's fine. He's a grown adult and decided he'd come with me today. It's fitting, since this meeting concerns him too."

It's mostly a political meeting but there are a few things to discuss about the guardian population. It seems to be growing slightly, and most of them are still hostile. As much as I hate to admit this, Link is one of the only people who could do some damage to these things. 

The small talk dies down as the first course arrives, being replaced with political discussion. Muzu was kicked out by my father for some unknown reason. Link looks at me.

"Sidon?" Under the table, I pat his leg. "I haven't heard you in a while."

From the other side of the room, my father winks at me and mouths gay in the same way a teenaged girl would.

Ah shit. I guess our façade needs work. Hopefully he won't tell anyone for the time being — I trust him.

I glare at him and he laughs, startling Riju and her guard Buliara, who are beside him. I think my father has a young mental age, considering most of his snide comments.

I look around the table. Yunobo and the Goron chief are here, as is Impa. Purah finally perfected her anti-aging serum and Impa is now a beautiful young woman again. She sits to Link's right and is currently conversing with Zelda.

Suddenly, Impa says, "Link, dear, this is a question all of us have been asking ourselves. What happened to you?" 

The room grows silent immediately. Link swallows hard. "I-I just hurt myself pulling another stunt, as I always do," he laughs nervously. "I'm okay now."

Zelda slams her cup down on the table, making Link wince. "Excuse me?" She sits up straighter, putting down her cutlery. "Link was stabbed six times. Sidon found him damn near bleeding out and had to use magic to revive him! The last time I saw Link he was in a coma! A coma! Why are you lying? Is it because you feel weak, letting someone hurt you like that? Well surprise, you're blind and it's normal!" 

Face red, she sits back down. Everyone looks at Link, faces somber. Impa speaks again. "Is that true?" He nods, looking down into his lap. I can see that he's swallowing to keep the blood from his words in his mouth. Impa sighs. "Oh dear."

The room is silent for a moment, then conversation starts again, slowly but surely. In a few minutes, the incident seems to be mostly forgotten, although people keep sending me confused glances.

Link doesn't speak for the rest of the night.

"That was terrible." Link says, sitting on the bed. The meeting lasted longer than I expected, going long into the night. We're both tired but his exhaustion shows. "Horrible and terrible and bad." 

I sit next to him and immediately he pulls me into a kiss, twining his arms weakly around my neck. I'm careful not to hurt him as I kiss back slowly.

He pulls away as suddenly as he came, frowning. "Just as I thought. It's different now. You kiss me differently."

"Well, I—'' I have to be more gentle, or else I might hurt you. "I could hurt you."

"I knew it." His face twists in hurt. "I knew it. I'm like a child to you. You're always treating me like I need to be taken care of. It's just a damn kiss, Sidon."

"It isn't, though. We're young and kissing is as violent as fighting sometimes." I mumble that quietly but he hears it nonetheless, sitting down on the bed heavily.

"I don't want you to treat me differently anymore." He practically begs it, looking sad. "Please?"

I let out a long, drawn-out breath. "I can't guarantee anything. You're severely wounded, and anything could hurt you more, not just me."

His expression grows bitter. "Fine. I'm leaving." He grabs his bag from the dresser and storms over to the door, shaking the handle. It didn't budge.

I locked the door when I came in. 

"You can't keep me in here forever."

"Not forever, just until you come to terms with your condition. I care about you, you know. I hate seeing you in pain." My voice almost breaks at the last part, and I look away. "I'm sorry. The door stays locked."

He glares in my direction, sitting in a ball against the door, clutching his knees to his chest with a wince of pain. "Fine. I hate you."

"I love you too."