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skyloftian-nutcase · 1 year ago

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He Runs, She Follows (Skyward Sword ficlet)

Whumptober day 15 - Suppressed suffering, "I'm fine."

There was something calming about the wind. It was a constant companion up in the skies, always caressing or pushing or fighting or helping. It sang or it screamed, carried leaves or uprooted plants. It was always there, always present, a familiarity in a world of change.

The wind on the Surface was different. Its noise was different, a rustling and whistling as it passed through mountains and trees. There were so many barriers to the wind on the Surface that sometimes there was no wind at all. The silence, the stillness of the air… it had been one of the most disturbing facets of that strange new world.

Link sat atop a lone sky island, staring down at the clouds beneath his feet as he dangled his legs over the edge. His loftwing lay curled up and fluffed beside him, feathers gently tickling his right ear. The wind played with his hair and his companion’s plumage alike, peppering a spritz of moisture against his face. His loftwing buried his head further into his feathers, fluffing up further against it.

The world looked so small down below. It was amazing how it was so vast. So empty. So overwhelming.

So exhausting.

Link had never been a particularly energetic person, but his energy had been present. He just wasn’t the best at directing it into focus sometimes. But ever since his journey… he’d just had no energy at all.

He’d tired to attribute it to his illness that he’d gotten at the end. Apparently he’d almost died. He remembered very little of it, and it… honestly didn’t bother him or surprise him that much. He supposed he should be more upset that he almost died, or grateful that he hadn’t, but… it wasn’t his first time almost dying on his adventure, and honestly… he didn’t have the energy to care.

Zelda was safe. It was over. That was all that mattered.

But it wasn’t over, was it? There was no going back to the way things were. He wouldn’t want to go back to the way things were. He was exhausted, but he was restless too. He hated the mixture, such a strange sensation of anxiety, of needing to do something, but also wanting to do absolutely nothing. His mind and body were constantly at war and he never could tell who won anymore. All he knew was he wanted to be alone.

He… felt so empty. His mind, once filled with contentment, was instead blank. When someone approached him he would grow irritable. Today he even started getting short with Zelda, and that was when he’d decided to fly away for a bit.

What’s wrong with me? Why am I always so tired now? I mean… I used to be sleepy before, but this is…

It wasn’t the same. Link wasn’t the best sleeper – he would go in spurts, and he often stayed up most of the night with bouts of energy that would end up with wood carvings aplenty and late morning sleeping and naps anywhere he could find them. But now… even sleep didn’t fix it. There wasn’t enough sleep in the world to heal whatever was wrong with him. And he hated it. It scared him and hurt him and he hated it.

Crimson stirred, his head poking out of his feathers, and he gently bumped his beak against Link’s head. The Skyloftian glanced up at his companion, tired eyes meeting wide, curious ones, and the knight-in-training crumpled in on himself a little. He hadn’t even been spending as much time with his loftwing as he used to because he just hadn’t had the energy to take care of him. The innocent gaze from his beloved companion was enough to make guilt settle into his heart, and he felt all the more wretched for it.

How much time had he wasted lying around doing nothing now? How many people could he have helped? How many times did he almost refuse to help others during his journey as it had dragged on? How often had he pushed Zelda away since its completion? How much had be abandoned his loftwing? Had he even spoken to Groose in the last few days? What was wrong with him?

His eyes stung, but the wind dried his tears before they could fall too far, its whooshing call covered his hiccups as he leaned into his loftwing, hugging his neck.

He almost missed the call of another loftwing over all the noise and emotion, but Crimson stiffened and perked up, calling back. Link hastily wiped the tears away, looking out to see Indigo, Zelda’s loftwing, circling the island. When his eyes caught movement below the loftwing, he saw that Zelda had leapt off and glided down to meet him.

Link tried to muster the strength for a smile. He really did.

“Hey,” Zelda said a little hesitantly. Her soft voice and careful gaze cut into him like a knife. She was approaching like it was her fault he’d been mad earlier, she was trying so hard to be understanding and kind, it wasn’t fair that she had to deal with him like this.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that anyone on Skyloft had to deal with his lack of energy and short fuse. But most of all, he had no right to be putting any burden on Zelda.

Link swallowed the lump in his throat, chest too constricted to speak.

Zelda slid hesitantly down to the ground beside him. His loftwing clacked his beak welcomingly, nodding his head a little, and then returned to curling into his little fluffy ball.

“You okay?” Zelda asked, staring out into the distance.

Link immediately felt himself grow colder than the wind could ever make him. He bit his tongue, he thought of something completely irrelevant, something logical or distant or funny to shut off any emotional reaction he was having. “I’m fine.”

“You weren’t… acting fine earlier.”

That cloud in the distance looked like a kikwi. How lovely. Kind of cute too. “Sorry about that. I think I was just tired. But I’m fine.”

“If you’re tired… maybe we should go back to the academy? You can get some rest, I can get you something to eat and drink.”

Movement meant using energy. Skyloft meant people and dealing with socializing. He felt the anger return, prickling on the back of his neck.

He kept his mouth shut. He didn’t like the person he became when his exhaustion drove him to speak too sharply. Not to people who sincerely meant well, at least. So he just didn’t speak.

“Link?”

He felt like he was made of stone. Immovable and emotionless. But the anger still bubbled, spreading from his back to his chest, scrunching it in like bunched up cloth in his hands. He bit back words once more.

“Link, what’s wrong?”

She didn’t deserve to be treated like this. She didn’t. It wasn’t like she hadn’t gone through hell and back, like she hadn’t had to sacrifice herself to protect everyone. Had he even considered how her journey had left her feeling? Especially since Impa had died?

“I’m sorry,” he finally choked out, and it was like opening a hatch to those geysers in the ancient cistern, because damn it all he could not keep his heart off his sleeve for long when it was bleeding so much. “I’m sorry I’ve been like this. I’m sorry I’m always tired. I’m sorry I’m—”

I’m not okay. I’m not okay I’m not okay I’mnotokay—

The silence was filled with the wind. It pushed the words back into him, pushed the thoughts away so he could just… exist again. Zelda’s eyes were intense on him, a heaviness and heat that was scorching him like the sun, but he ignored her, continuing to look at the kikwi shaped cloud.

“I’m sorry too.”

Link finally looked at her. Her gaze was on her hands, which were bunching up fistfuls of her skirt.

“Don’t,” he immediately said before emotions caught his voice in a chokehold. He swallowed against it. “Don’t be sorry.”

“This is my fault,” Zelda argued, her voice wobbling. “You almost died because of me, you’re exhausted because of me—”

“And if I wasn’t?” Link fired back, facing her, his anger spilling out of him. “If you hadn’t chosen me? If you were just down there alone with Impa? You would still be sealed away in that crystal, forever trying to hold Demise back only for the seal to break and for him to destroy everything and everyone. I would have died if you hadn’t chosen me.”

Everyone would have died. Not that Link was trying to emphasize that he rescued everyone… it honestly still didn’t really click. It felt wrong to even argue that point now. But what did feel right was to be angry, to immediately tear down Zelda’s faulty logic, to make sure she knew that this was not at all her fault.

But the tears on her face immediately made the anger recede, and he was left feeling guiltier than ever. He tried softening the blow. “Besides, Ghirahim’s a creep, and you definitely would’ve met him if he wasn’t too busy whining to me about everything.”

This finally pulled a laugh from his friend, though a sad little hiccup followed, and she wiped her tears away. It gave Link a moment, just a moment, to find a shred of energy in himself to actually be empathetic.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated his earlier apology.

“You don’t get to start that too,” Zelda huffed sadly, giving him a weak punch in the arm. “If I can’t apologize, then you can’t.”

Honestly, he needed to apologize. His argument to Zelda had been correct – she couldn’t help the circumstances they had ended up in. She couldn’t help that destiny had demanded they sacrifice their innocence and sanity to protect everyone else from another war, from an apocalypse. But he could help snapping at everyone. He could help his own behavior. However, trying now, pushing past her rebuttal, would only bring the tears back and he… didn’t have the energy for that. He didn’t want to deal with that.

He felt so drained. He dropped the subject altogether.

“Link… are you sure you’re okay?”

This conversation was going in circles and it was going to drive him insane. Crimson grew agitated, sensing his own frustration.

“Look,” Zelda continued, rising to her feet. “I… I don’t know what’s wrong, but I know something is. And if you can’t talk about it, then… then okay. But… at least let me help?”

How the hell could she help?! What sort of help could anyone offer? He was just tired, he wanted to be left alone.

But this was Zelda. He couldn’t say that to her.

Link closed his eyes, and the wind blew harder. He took a deep breath, letting the moving air overinflate his lungs, giving him a dizzy spell, speeding up his heart rate as the gust pushed him back into the island a little bit. He tilted forward to fight it, losing himself to the sky for a moment.

Zelda was grieving and he had no right to add to that. Zelda was processing everything and he had no right to add to that.

“Let’s go back to Skyloft,” he said to appease her, though he didn’t move.

Zelda was quiet for a long time. When she finally acknowledged him with a small okay, it didn’t sound any more reassured than before. Crimson chittered anxiously, slowly standing and stretching one wing.

Link took another breath, energy flooding him with some unnamed emotion as the silence grew too deafening, the wind too quiet, Zelda’s stare too intense, and he pushed himself off the island altogether. The instant lift in his stomach, the immediate disappearance of the earth below, the sudden sensation of freefall overtook him, and goddess above he just wanted to be like this forever, freefalling with nothing to land on, nothing to hurt him, nothing to catch him, nothing to run to, and nothing to run from.

His loftwing flew alongside him, awaiting his call. The clouds grew closer, though the barrier they used to create was long gone. He passed through a small wisp of one and was instantly soaked and freezing, the air knocked out of his lungs. The jolt of reality came back to him, and his fingers found their way into his lips to whistle, bringing his loftwing below him.

When he started to climb once more, settled on Crimson’s back, Zelda and Indigo flew alongside him. He threw her a smile, and she gave a small one back.

The pair circled Skyloft for a minute or so before they both leapt off their mounts. Link landed closer to the academy so he could interact with as few people as possible. Zelda followed him.

“Link,” she called as he made his way to his room. He turned to her, and she gave another smile, small, hurting, but hopeful. “We’ll get better. I promise.”

Her words were so simple, and had so little energy behind them. She looked as exhausted as he felt. He was overcome with guilt once again, but this time he didn’t have energy to maintain it. Instead, he just walked towards her, falling easily into her embrace as the two leaned against each other. He remembered catching her just a week or so ago when she had exited that wretched crystal. He remembered how she’d trembled when she’d been walking alongside him. He held her tightly, trying to support her, but by all that was holy all he wanted to do was just sink into her arms as she had into his. But he wouldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t.

“We will,” he promised in return.