Comfort

Thank you all for sharing your achievements with me! You guys passed exams with flying colors, defeated procrastination, opened up to your friends and loved ones, traveled, collected game achievements, and ASKED OUT YOUR CRUSH! You guys are killing it and definitely deserve another chapter. Enjoy!

xx Ace

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Zelda's POV

I pull my hair up into a bun and move to the back of the yacht. The water is mirror-still and the morning air so quiet that I can hear every ripple as the cold ocean hugs my body. Goosebumps freckle my body, but it somehow feels calming.

I wonder what is taking Impa so long. Perhaps she fell asleep on her bed, or maybe she is taking a shower. Or she is talking things out with Kiroh right now.

The coast looks so tranquil from out here. The windows of Malibu's beach homes are not yet lit, the streets not yet littered with cars, and the beaches still spared from the surfers, tourists, families, and influencers that are sure to arrive within the next three hours.

Behind me from the boat's platform, I hear approaching footsteps. I turn to see who it is, though who else, if not Impa, could it be?

To my surprise, it is Link standing in front of me. Barefoot and in nothing but shorts and a shirt, he's looking down at me. His dark-rimmed gaze is marked by the signs of a restless night. He makes me feel uneasy—the way he stands there, stiff and with his hands in his pockets. As though there is something awful waiting to be said.

"Link?" I mutter.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking away. "Hey."

"Is... everything alright?"

His eyes return to me, but they are not accompanied by words.

He then asks, "What are you doing out here?"

I shrug casually. "Just my typical morning workout. What are you doing out here?"

"Looking for you."

I smile. "Is that so?"

He nods. No smile.

"Well, you found me. Now what?"

He takes a moment to regard the sight, the infinitely opalescent Pacific. Is he, like me, thinking about that milky, shifting blue-pink sheen that can only be behold right before the sun fully rises?

His voice comes out as a quiet, resigned rasp when he asks, "Did you wait for me last night?"

I let my body sink just enough to hide my cheeks below the surface of the water. I already know they're going to turn red if I think about last night. It's because I'm embarrassed that I actually went to the sky lounge, thinking we were going to take the next step. How immature and foolish.

Despite all that, I decide to tell him the truth.

"Yes, I waited."

His eyebrows wrinkle with regret.

"It's alright," I assure him. "I just misunderstood."

"Were you sad when I didn't come?"

"A little. But I figured you weren't serious about the whole thing."

"I was."

"Oh. Did you forget?"

"I did not forget."

Just like Impa said.

"Did you fall asleep?"

"No."

"Then..." I take a calm breath. "Did you just not want to?"

"I did."

"Because if so, you could have just told m—"

"Zelda, I did want to."

I glance up at him. Seems as though there is something he isn't quite ready to share with me. But what? And why doesn't he feel comfortable telling me?

"Can I join you?" he asks, gesturing at the water.

"It's cold."

"Can't be much colder than last night." He pulls his shirt off, drops it on the nearby bench, and then dips his toe in. "Holy shit that's cold."

"I told you."

"How are you not shivering?"

"I have mastered the ancient art of pretending I'm fine."

He pulls his foot back out, wary of touching the water a second time. Then he glares at the blue like it's his rival and stubbornness alone could warm it.

When he finally does join me, I can't help but giggle. He's cute when he's trying to act tougher than the ocean.

"It's nice," he claims with trembling lips.

"Liar," I say with a smirk.

"Not lying. Just... adjusting."

I move through the peaceful water until I'm a little closer. "Moving helps. Warms you up."

"Mhm."

"Try it."

"M–maybe once m–my muscles thaw."

"Come on." I nod toward the empty stretch of cyan and teal. Every ripple is a silver moon in the early light.

He drifts closer, surrendering to the water. Every movement feels amplified against the stillness of the morning. The shift of his shoulders beneath the surface, the faint drag of his fingers through the sea. He's close enough now that I can feel the warmth of his body.

Exhaustion sits deep in his eyes, but there is also something soft mixed within those blue hues. The cold seems to have stolen some of the tension from his frame.

"Better now?" I ask.

His gaze flicks to my lips, then back up. "Yeah."

I let my hand break the surface, cupping his cheek gently. He doesn't flinch from the cold. He leans in, just slightly, until the space between us becomes too delicate to break.

Instinctively, I tilt my chin up. I'm sure he's going to close the space, sure enough that my breath catches in my throat. My pulse rises, too. I've been waiting to kiss him for too long.

His head dips toward me. Slowly and carefully. As if he wasn't supposed to kiss me. It feels... sacred. Like something that begs to be cherished.

Unexpectedly, he does not kiss me. Instead, he rests his forehead against my shoulder. The water laps softly around us, the only sound between the beating of my heart and the faint, steady rhythm of his breathing.

I don't say anything. I just let him breathe for a moment. I love that he finds comfort in my arms, and I would never want to disturb the moment, but his silence is worrying me. Maybe it's nothing, and maybe I'm overthinking it, but the fact that he didn't kiss me rings some alarm bells. I mean... he only ever dodges my lips when he isn't feeling well.

"What's going on?" I ask quietly, not to pry, just to keep him from drifting too far with his thoughts. I want to keep him anchored and safe.

"It's nothing."

Even if it's subconscious, the 'it' indicates that there is something.

"I want to believe you, Link. But to me it doesn't look like nothing."

He exhales an uneven breath. "Let's just say it wasn't the kind of night I planned on."

"Daijoubu desu," I say, stroking his hair lightly. It's a Japanese phrase I learned during our trip last year and roughly translates to 'it's alright' or 'Things will be okay.' "It wasn't our last night on Earth," I add. "And after tonight, we'll be back in our own home, our own room. Just you and me. We can just... try again some other time. When things feel right."

I thought that would earn me the faintest smile, but he remains still. His eyes close, his breath shallows. I don't press for answers. I'd rather be the place he rests than the reason he tenses.

After a moment, he lifts his head. His eyes are a storm that has run out of lightning.

"I need to tell you something."

I hate those words, but I don't let it show.

"I'm listening," I say.

"It's about Malice."

Alertness kicks in. "What has she done this time?"

Link swallows. "She wouldn't want you to know."

"But you're going to tell me anyway?"

"Yes. I think you need to know. And I don't want to keep secrets."

Hylia. I'm already picturing all the horrible things that might have happened. What am I going to do if he tells me that she assaulted him again? That she pushed his boundaries the way she has so many times before? How would I comfort him? Would I confront her? Would I forgive her? Could I forgive her?

"She... wasn't in a good place last night."

I raise a brow. "She's never in a good place."

"It was really bad." His voice is close to a whisper but lands as heavy as a shout. Something is clearly wrong, so wrong that Link doesn't know how or whether to tell me.

My fingers still against his hair, I search his face for the part he's not saying. He looks like he's about to, then thinks better of it.

"Link? I don't mean to pressure you, but you're worrying me."

He shakes his head. "Malice... overdosed on pain meds."

I gasp, but bite down every impulse to panic. I can feel my body starting to shake. It takes everything to utter the three dreadful words that are choking my throat. 

"Is she... alive?"

"Yes," he says quickly, likely sensing my growing panic. "She's in your guys' room. I stayed with her all night. Made sure she'd drink water, and kept her awake."

"You didn't think of calling for help?"

Is it anger I feel? Or disappointment? Or fear? I can't tell, but I can feel the fire behind my throat rising. Why didn't he come and get me last night?

"Trust me on this, Zelda, if I had called for help, it would've been the last time any of us would have seen Malice. She does not want you, or anyone else, to know what happened. She already thinks of herself as a burden. So much, that she was ready to jump into the water and disappear out of our lives forever. So believe me when I say the last thing she wants right now is more help."

"I don't care what she wants. She needs help!" As my voice rises, his lowers.

"I agree, Zelda. But that help has to come from inside. You understand?"

He patiently waits until my eyes make their way back to his.

"I agree with you," he says again, "she does need help. Which is exactly why I stayed with her. After she told me she overdosed, she said that she doesn't want to die. That's a good thing, Zelda. Malice needed to realize that she wants to live." He takes a shaky breath. "I carried her to the bathroom and made her throw up a couple of times. I don't know if she took enough pills to die, but I figured throwing up would help. I wanted to get you, or to call Mipha, or tell Ramses we need to go back to shore ASAP, but when I got up to leave, she pulled me back by my arm, desperate for me to stay. And so I did. I made sure she'd be okay physically. But recovering mentally is a whole other story. It takes time. When I decided to quit sports, it wasn't because of my injuries. My body was fine. I just wasn't ready mentally. So... Just for today, give her a break. Let her body and mind rest. Once we're back at the townhome, we can discuss what to do next."

Suddenly my breath calms and the world's spin begins to find its pace again. Panic took over my bloodstream for a moment, but just by looking at him, the heat in my nerves has cooled off and my chest has settled down again.

"You..." I whisper, not breaking eye contact, "saved her."

"I kept her comfortable," he corrects me.

"You kept her alive."

He doesn't look proud. Just troubled.

"Every time she tried to close her eyes, I got her talking. About anything. School. Hobbies. TV shows. Music. Tattoos. Gym class. I checked her breathing regularly, made sure she wasn't choking. I had her sit on the floor with me, leaning against my shoulder until I was sure the worst had passed."

"Link, you saved her life," I repeat, full of admiration, fear, and care.

Link must have been running on adrenaline for hours, holding himself together for Malice's sake.

My arms circle his shoulders, his hands settling at my waist under the water. His forehead rests against mine, our breaths mingling, the taste of salt in the air.

I don't know who moves first, maybe both of us, but the space between us dissolves until our lips meet. My heart picks up, and I realize that the world is only as big as the water around us.

The kiss lasts, deepening in small increments as his fingers tighten at my waist. I feel the chill of the ocean everywhere except where we touch.

When we part, our foreheads stay pressed together.

"Thanks for taking care of her, Link. And for being her friend."

"There's... something else I need to tell you."

Goodness, what else can there be?

He murmurs a quiet, "I love you," and all the weight suddenly drops from my heart. "You have no idea how much you mean to me. I love you like crazy. "

A new set of goosebumps rattles my bones, but this time they're not from the cold.

"Same to you, Link."

He pulls me closer. My hands slip down his back, and he exhales like he's been holding that breath for hours.

"I don't ever want to lose you," he says.

The memories of him in the hospital flash through my mind, when he was covered in bruises and scars, and attached to tubes everywhere. It felt like I was losing him back then. Is that similar to what he experienced with Malice last night? Is that why he's suddenly worried about losing me?

"You are not going to lose me," I promise.

The horizon has shifted from pale silver to warm gold, the sun climbing higher, but it still feels like we're the only two people awake in the world.

I rest my cheek against his shoulder. His heartbeat is steady, proof that, for now, everything is okay. "We should probably get out soon."

"Are you cold?" he asks softly, almost drowsy.

"Not when you're close to me."

He gives a tired half-smile, then glances down at his clinging, heavy shorts. "These aren't exactly helping."

"What do you mean?"

"Less fabric equals more heat."

I let out a soft laugh. "Are you suggesting taking them off?"

"A good boyfriend should make any necessary sacrifice to keep his girl from freezing to death."

I offer him my most unimpressed expression. "Is this truly necessary though?"

"If you wish to survive, very much so."

I narrow my eyes, fighting a smile. "You're ridiculous."

I'm glad to see him more relaxed. He's almost back to himself now, and nothing could make me happier.

I hook my fingers into the waistband of his shorts, peeling the heavy, sodden fabric away from his skin. "Fine. But this is strictly for survival purposes."

"That goes without saying."

"No funny business."

"I don't know where your dirty mind is going, but this is a simple act of civility."

"And they say chivalry is dead."

I toss his shorts onto the yacht's platform. When he reaches for my bikini, I push away, teasing him.

"Hey! This only works if you take yours off too," he whisper-shouts.

"Ha, you wish."

He catches up with me, hands immediately drawn to the back of my bikini. He fumbles with the strings until the knot loosens.

"This isn't very civil of you," I chuckle.

He goes for my bikini bottoms next, and after he's dropped them both off next to his shorts, he's back in front of me, closer than before. It's odd how different the water feels when there is absolutely nothing separating me from it. I feel exposed and protected at the same time. I can't see past his chest, the water is too dark, but I still know what's there. Weird. It's the same feeling as knowing something is about to happen when everything already has. I'm surprisingly okay with both. There is no one in this world I'm more comfortable with than Link.

I don't mind his hands on my body or the press of his mouth against mine. They feel like they've always belonged there. His touch sinks lovingly beneath my skin and settles in places I didn't know could ache for someone so much.

The way his palms move over me is reverent, as though he feels honors to experience my shape by mere touch. And maybe that is true for both of us. My own hands roam in return, mapping the lines of him beneath the water.

His arms are firm from years of discipline. I trace the long, lean curve of his biceps, the taut line from his shoulders down to his forearms, and I feel the subtle flex under my touch as he pushes us closer.

I follow the contour of his spine down to the narrow taper of his waist, feeling the steadiness there. Every part of him is special, and I'm certain he must think the same about me.

I let him hold my back. My waist. My hips. He wants to move lower, I can tell, but he's in no rush. Even if he were, he wouldn't go there right now. His thumbs prefer to draw small hearts in the spaces near my belly button. With every motion, a delightful swarm of butterflies tickles my stomach.

How did I get so lucky?

I am convinced he is my soulmate. 

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OMG you can add polls on Wattpad??? And you DIDN'T tell me???