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His heart sank to see what side of town Warriors was stranded on. It sank further when he finally caught sight of Warriors in the headlights, cowering near a rundown bus stop wearing someone else’s jacket. His face was bruised, he reeked of cigarette smoke, and he struggled to disguise a nasty limp.
“We’re going to the hospital.”
“I don’t need—”
“Either you tell me which one you want to go to, or we’re just stopping at the closest one I find.”
“I’m okay, I am not going to the hospital—”
“You’re obviously not ‘okay,’ Wars!! You’re hurt!” Sky winced at the volume of his own voice. Maybe he was a little grumpy from having been woken up at such an obscene hour, or maybe it was something else. “I’m sorry, but I’m not just taking you home!”
They sat together in the waiting room for several hours. Sky would go with him to the restroom when Warriors needed to vomit. Once they were finally led to a room, he sat on the bed with Wars so that he wouldn’t feel alone. When he had to step out of the room so that the doctor could ask Warriors questions and take some samples, the med student tried to take Sky’s mind off of things with some friendly chatter — another Link, small world. This one went by ‘Hyrule.’
By the time they were leaving the hospital, the sun was already up. Castle Town was starting to wake up again, and people were already getting ready and heading off to work.
The world was getting startlingly back to normal.
“I want to get out of here, Sky.”
Except for the two of them.
The trip from the hospital to their shared student apartment then back in the opposite direction to the upper end where Sunny lived for university took the better part of the day. It wouldn't be until well after midnight that they'd arrived, ragged, dishevelled and grimy from the trip. Sky had never regretted selling his car more than right now. It was lucky enough that their roommate happened to be away for the weekend when he picked the lock to her bedroom in search of her spare key fob when Warriors called him the previous night.
It might have been for the best though. Despite how wired he felt, Sky had never once experienced exhaustion like this in his life; too agitated to sit down and fearful that if he did, he'd never get back up.
They were about halfway there. Warriors, who had been alarmingly quiet in a way that Sky was desperate to address but couldn’t, not yet, not until they were safe, was barely hanging on.
Wars had outright refused to take the medication the ER physician prescribed, and Sky didn’t feel right pressing the matter. He couldn’t articulate it, this sick feeling in his chest. But the cagey stiffness in Warriors’ shoulders as he shook his head, and the hollow look in his eyes…
“Fuck off.” Sky snapped suddenly, glaring at what had to be two high schoolers staring at the state of them. He knew how they looked: Warriors in club attire that Sky had never once seen from his closet, the mottled bruising and smudged makeup. Sky himself in a pair of old pajama pants and a ratty undershirt. Wars had left the stranger’s jacket in the hospital, and Sky didn’t hesitate to shed his own and chuck it at him, offering any bit of privacy that he could provide.
The girls stopped cold, fear evident in their eyes; Sky wasn’t so detached that he refused to recognize it. He slouched further in the seat, bare shoulders sticking the plastic backrest as he adjusted his posture so Wars could rest more easily against him. The whispering continued, slightly more subtle but not nearly enough. Sky shut his eyes to block it out before he lost it completely.
The few times that they travelled together in the past, Warriors was the one who took the lead. He took it upon himself to organize the itinerary, transportation, reservations and contingencies for everything in between. Sky, on the other hand, was content to follow Wars around, carrying luggage and making as little fuss as possible while Warriors guided them from place to place. They made a good team.
This time, hr was the one in charge. And if Warriors wanted out, then Sky would make it happen.
“I didn’t know that your hair was curly.”
Warriors jumped at the sound of Sun’s voice. His hand fell away from the back of neck where he’d been feeling just how far he’d eroded his hairline. Shame quickly rose – he wasn’t expecting her to be home, didn’t even see her as he wandered listlessly toward the kitchen, distracted by what had to be the culmination of months of hair loss gone unnoticed until just now. If he had known she was home, he wouldn’t have spent so long in her shower, just standing there until the water ran cold.
But there she was: Princess Solara the living Goddess, Hylia’s avatar, sat at her kitchen table with a mason jar of a frothy-looking iced coffee. Her hair was bundled up in a silk bonnet, and she was still in her night clothes: a tank-top and a ratty pair of Hebra North-brand lounge pants.
Princess Solara, Sky’s girlfriend, was sleeping in a pair of sweatpants that cost more than Warriors’ entire wardrobe, and they were either vintage or a pair of hand-me-downs. That line discontinued ages ago – he could still remember texting Linkle across the cafeteria, complaining about that one cheerleader she was “talking to” who insisted on wearing what he considered a pair of overpriced pajamas outside of home.
How simple things were, back then. His throat tightened. It wasn’t often that Warriors ruminated on their estranged relationship; he feared he would never stop if it began. Typically, errant thoughts about his twin came from whatever drama was plaguing him that day. He had yet to break the habit of navigating to where their text thread used to be pinned at the top of his text messages.
Last night, he had cried himself sick, feeling like the hole in his chest would finally give and collapse in on himself. He recalled sneaking into his sister’s room after becoming collateral while breaking up fights between their parents. An eyeshadow palette she quietly replaced when their father found his and threw it against the wall. Poking his head in the kitchen only for Linkle to say, “They’re gone, don’t worry,” pushing a carton of almond croissants toward his seat as the tension eased from his shoulders.
“Warriors?”
“Sorry,” he said reflexively, but sincerely all the same. He was sorry, for everything. Intruding on her space, monopolizing Sky’s attention. Using all her hot water.
Warriors shook his head to clear it, hyper aware of how lightly his hair moved without product in it. He hadn’t packed anything but his glasses, contact solution and the clothes on his back when he and Sky left that night, after… After.
“That’s alright,” Sun said with a smile. Mid-morning light filtered softly through the window, gently illuminating the small but well-maintained kitchen.
Sun had freckles dusted across her nose, just like his sister did. Fairy kisses, his mother used to say, back when they were young, obedient; easier to love. He’d never stood this close to Sun before. He could only imagine how the guardsmen would react knowing he shared such proximity to the Crown.
Simple, simple, simple.
It was only by the grace of Hylia herself that they made their connection. His phone had died hours ago, and Warriors had tossed his own on the train tracks before boarding. Volga had tracked his location on his phone, apparently. Had been tracking it for months.
The subway was crowded, typical for the evening rush, but Sky heard none of it. Wars dozed lightly on his shoulder, and without the distraction of his phone, Sky was left with alone with his own unravelling mind.
He felt nothing.
Back in basic, long before he had received his codename, one of his captains had warned him about this type of dissociative state, shortly after he’d beat the shit out of a trainee that had called Wars a slur behind his back for the last time. It was the type of detachment that iced out everything that kept him human. That smothered the pang he’d normally feel at the sight, the sounds of someone in agony, the crack of bone beneath his fists. He remembered his field trainer sitting next to him after his reprimand, how she’d handed him an ice-pack and warned him to be careful of that feeling.
That was before he’d been dismissed from the Guard.
The subway listed around a turn. Beside him, Warriors grunted in pain.
Sky set his jaw. Clarity struck, and one truth came to him with blinding resolve.
He had already lost everything once before. He could survive it again.
“I made you coffee,” she said, gesturing toward a matching mason jar on the table adjacent to her. “Sky mentioned you prefer tea, but I don’t have any. I asked him to pick some up on his way home from work today.”
“Thanks,” he said softly. Had Warriors been more aware of the passage of time, he would have recognized the lie for what it was: Sky didn't work on weekends. Instead, he drifted toward the table in an automatic sense of propriety rather than true desire.
And then stiffened as he recognized what was definitely a hand-carved table and its matching wooden chairs.
His body hurt. He tugged the sleeve of Sky’s shirt down anxiously. The bruising around his wrists and ankles went deep, and while he wasn’t visibly wincing when he sat down anymore, the ache from the movement resonated deep in his pelvis and lower back, chaining him to that night when all he wanted to do was forget.
He was being unbearably rude—Sun was clearly expecting him to sit with her. The princess had made him a social-media worthy beverage. Gingerly, he reached for the glass and maneuvered himself to lean against the counter. It hurt, the bruising on his hips and lower back were almost hot to the touch. The physician told him he was lucky that there didn't seem to be any kidney damage, but that he would have to return for bloodwork to confirm.
Lucky. Right.
“Come on, just a little more—we’re almost there.”
It was almost over. Sky was running on fumes, worry and terror rushing past the silence in his head the closer he got to his goal. Wars was hurt so, so badly and it was wretched to force him into the building. His friend was listless, and the fluorescent lighting of the elevator exacerbated how pallid his skin was. How deep the bruise on his cheek went.
Sky's jaw hurt.
“Hurts,” Warriors mumbled, head lolling some. The haphazardly packed duffle bag cut into the crook of his arm as he adjusted Warriors’ arm more securely over his shoulder, half dragging the man down the hallway toward Sunny’s unit.
Sky felt insane. This entire ordeal, every single depths-ridden thing about it, had sparked a single-minded panic that crackled like lightning in his veins every time he’d accompanied Warriors to the waiting room’s toilet to vomit. Horror had crystalized into a resolve, teeth clenched as he’d sat in useless silence at Warriors’ side, listening as he’d stuttered through the reason for his injuries to the social worker taking his history. He couldn't decide if it was better or worse than the way Warriors avoided his gaze when he was asked to leave so the nurse could complete the- take the swabs. Samples. For the kit.
He couldn't even stomach the thought of the word. How the hell was he supposed to do this?
In those last frenetic moments, while pounding on the door with increasing desperation now that rest was so near, Sky forgot one crucial detail.
“Holy fucking three! Sun—Solara! It’s me! Sky!” he shouted at the gun in his face. Point blank range.
One hand flailed in supplication while the other clamped down on Wars to keep him upright. In front of him, the steely look in Sun’s eyes melted, shock overtaking her as she smoothly clicked the safety back into place. “Sky? I’ve been texting you all—” A gasp. “Warriors?”
“Sorry,” he hissed, dropping the duffle over the threshold and kicking it out of the way. “My phone died," he said weakly.
His jaw hurt.
“Get inside, now!”
The door slammed shut behind him as she dragged them inside. Warriors flinched.
A noise that could have been a laugh or a sob bubbled out of him, shrill and bordering the edge of hysteria as he dragged Warriors to the sofa.
His lungs trembled with relief. Safe at last.
Sun was unfazed, crossing her legs in a movement that oriented her in Warriors’ direction. “I hope you like it; I wasn’t sure if I should leave it black and let you fix it up yourself, so I made you what I usually make myself. If you don’t like it, there’s more cold-brew in the—”
“It’s good, thank you,” Warriors lied to interrupt what was quickly becoming an anxious ramble from Sun. He really hated coffee, and hated himself more for being ungrateful. While Sun’s coffee wasn’t as thrice-damned bitter as what he was accustomed to, he just… really wanted to go home.
Sun snorted, drawing him from his spiral. “You’re a liar, but the effort is appreciated.”
Warriors huffed a laugh through his nose, caught off guard by her candor. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed. But amusement gave way to grief; he missed his sister, desperately.
All at once, Warriors wanted nothing more than to thank her. For everything. She had opened her home to him when he and Sky had turned up on her doorstep after leaving the hospital. Didn’t ask questions even though she must have had them, especially after he’d begged Sky not to tell her while right in front of her. Didn’t comment on how often he left the bathroom with red-tinged skin and the meals he left untouched, unable to stomach anything even when her eyes tracked him with concern.
He could barely bring himself to look her in the eye.
“What happened?” Sun barked. Her eyes widened in horror at the whimper Wars gave as collapsed hard on the sofa, even with Sky steadying him.
His shoulders stiffened under Sky’s hands, and when Sky caught his gaze, Warriors’ eyes were fever-bright with terror.
“Don’t tell her,” he gasped, weakly clutching at Sky’s forearms with trembling hands. “Sky, please- please don’t—”
“Hey— hey, it’s okay, I won’t tell, I promise—”
His entire body was shaking now, and it had to hurt but Sky couldn’t calm him down. Sobs wracked his frame, shaking his head over and over again as he begged. Sky didn’t know what to do, and everything was hitting him all at once- he was so out of his depth and Warriors wasn’t hearing him—
“Wars, hey.” Sun cut in suddenly, and Sky could have sobbed with relief as something in her voice latched onto Wars’ attention. “I don’t want to know anything you don’t want to tell me,” she said firmly, but achingly sincere. “What do you need?”
Warriors jaw worked for a long, precarious moment. His breath hitched with barely suppressed sobs, piercing through Sky felt as though he was on the precipice, like one false move would send them all into freefall.
“Shower.” Wars finally stuttered out. “I need—get these clothes off me, I need- Sky—”
“We can do that.” Sky assured, trying to channel the resolve he felt on the train. But something in his chest loosened with Sun’s steady presence at his side, another set of hands to carry this weight. She nodded toward the bathroom, an imperative gesture, and Sky took the reins once more. “Come on, let’s go.”
They made it to the bathroom, bigger than the one at their apartment and much easier to maneuver in. He guided Wars to sit on the toilet seat, pawing at his clothes while Sky fiddled with the temperature for once.
Warriors’ hands were shaking too hard to properly disrobe, and maybe it was a combination of both the exhaustion and pain catching up to him, but he didn’t or couldn’t resist when Sky gently tugged the mesh shirt over his head, shifted his body to remove his pants while Sky tried not to stare at the injuries littering his body.
I'm going to kill him.
He helped Warriors into the shower, kicked off his shoes and followed him into the stall, clothing and all. Warriors leaned hard against the tile, the last of his strength finally leaving it seemed. As soon as the hot water hit his skin, his face twisted. Slowly, he slid to the floor and began to cry.
Sky followed him down.
“I have you, buddy.” Sky’s whisper was lost over the rush of running water. His hair clung to his forehead, as he pressed close to Warriors, holding him as tightly as he dared through the tiny noises Warriors was making. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”
“My father’s half Calatian.” Wars gestured to his unruly, dried out curls. Sky’s cursed body wash-shampoo-conditioner concoction was not kind to his hair and skin.
Why he chose to share that of all things, he would never understand. It felt pointedly weak given the state of everything. But Sun justnodded, accepting the new information easily enough.
“That makes sense, though I never would have guessed otherwise. I suppose that’s ignorant of me.”
People said the same about his father, though Warriors knew the man had some cosmetic procedures done to support that particular delusion. His mother had photo albums featuring his original ears, narrow tipped and protruding like those of the Great Faeries. It was the least of the countless secrets his family had swept under the rug.
Stalling a bit, Warriors took another sip, licking the foam clinging to his upper lip, absently noticing that he needed to shave. The coffee was sweet and smooth once he got around the bitterness; nutty from the chickaloo milk and lightly sweet from what was likely the raw courser bee honey, imported from Hateno, still sitting on the counter. Sun had even drizzled chocolate sauce along the inner rim of the jar– overkill, if he was being honest, and a ridiculously expensive drink crafted for someone like him. He didn’t even like coffee, but the consideration behind the gesture made his heart squeeze dangerously.
“My mother is as Hyrulean as it comes. I tan beautifully in the summer, thanks to him, though.” He explained, aiming for nonchalant and missing entirely. He was homesick, more than he realized. But Warriors had no home, and he could hardly return to the house he grew up in, where the only warmth came from the wrath between his parents. Something in his gut yawned with deep longing, crying out for home. Somewhere familiar, simple; where he could let all of it go, not have to deal with anything anymore, and trust that it would all be fine.
“Well, your natural curl pattern is gorgeous. Maybe not up to its fullest potential with Sky’s hair products though.”
His lip quirked, too exhausted for a true smile, but it was enough for Sun. They lapsed into what could have been an easy silence if not for the oppressive weight of his thoughts, that night, his miserable excuse for an existence slowly tightening around his throat. Eventually, the pressure of it all pulled him under, dragged him so far into the cavern of his soul that he couldn’t withstand it any longer. Fatigue took hold, and he excused himself for a nap just to get some reprieve from himself.
Sun was waiting for him in the kitchen after Sky had helped Wars into bed. Her bed, at her order. While they were in the bathroom, Sunny had stripped the bed and replaced the sheets. She’d already arranged the couch for the two of them to share, as well.
Sky felt like a wrung-out cloth, but when he collapsed sideways into one of the kitchen chairs, the heavy silence between them made dread well in his chest.
“Please, don’t make me choose, I promised—” Sky started, breaking the silence.
“I meant what I said.” Sun whispered firmly. Her gaze skittered sideways, staring at the bedroom door that was left slightly ajar, just in case...
In case of what?
Sky didn't know. He couldn't fathom how this could possibly get worse. But he wanted to be ready.
“It’s the boyfriend, isn’t it.”
It was a conscious effort to relax his jaw. He didn’t say anything. Didn't need to. Not when he'd been complaining about Warriors' new boyfriend for months instead of helping his friend.
“Hey.” She was kneeling in front of him, watching him with an odd, meanginful look in her eyes. One of her hands held his softly, rubbing over the tightly clenched knuckles until they released. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Sky’s self-control finally gave way. Tears he’d been holding back for goddess knows how long sprang forward. He doubled over, elbows on his knees as he held his head as he finally cracked under the weight of the day. Sobs came in gasping breaths, trying to stay quiet even as Sun hushed him quietly, holding him as he fell apart.
“It’s bad, Sunny,” he inhaled sharply. “He- he might get kidney failure? And we have to- go for follow-up testing, and—”
“Sky,” Sun soothed. Sky caught her gaze through the tears. Her mouth was pulled down in aching empathy, but the look in her eyes… “Don’t do anything stupid,” she repeated.
He took a deep, stuttering breath, trying to get it together. “I won’t leave him,” he swore. “I won’t leave you.”
Sun’s eyes widened, but then her face softened all at once. It hurt to look at. His eyes squeezed shut, tears slipping freely as his face crumpled.
“Oh, Sky,” she whispered, and then she was crawling into his lap. He clung to her like a drowning man, trembling.
“I know. I know you won’t.”
And when Sky dragged another set of blankets to the bedroom floor, curling up as close to Warriors as he could without intruding on his space, Sun followed. Tucked herself in his arms and held him while he counted Wars' breaths.
Hours later, when he was stumbling in the late-evening light, in search of his contacts, Warriors found a freshly laundered silk pillowcase and a rich blue bonnet folded neatly on the dresser. Next to the pile was an expensive looking Gerudo-brand shampoo and conditioner set, and a folded piece of notebook paper with his name written in looping cursive.
Affection swelled in his chest. He read the card over and over again until his eyes blurred with emotion.
no one deserves 3-in-1.
~Sunny xoxo