Twenty-one Questions: A Zelink story

Chapter twelve

It had been a week since that horrible night.

Link had been emotionless and drained for each and every of the relentless seven days, pushing me away and promising me everything was fine.

He would very often lash out at me, screaming at me for things that I didn't ever mean to do. Sometimes just a smile would set him off; he would insist that I was trying to comfort him and yell at me that he was fine, that he didn't need my help, that I was relentless and useless.

One night I swore I heard him crying to himself, but I'd never mortify him so bad by bringing it up. Well, not anymore, anyway.

I would often see him grip his shirt in the chest area, as if it were too tight for him. I told Lisa about it and she seemed concerned about that in particular.

All in all, the week had been painful. I was tired of pleading Link to open up to me and being met with nothing but raw anger and frustration, and he was no doubt tired of all the small talk behind his back and everybody babying him and pitying him behind closed doors.

Right now, he probably just wanted me to act like everything was normal; act like we were still enemies. But I simply couldn't bring myself to do that.

All I wanted was for him to just trust me, just talk to me about it. We both knew he wouldn't be able to go on like this.

I lightly pushed the door open, creeping inside to be met with Link sat writing on the sofa after his training.

"Hey." I said, my voice sweet.

He looked up at me, nodding. 

I kept my hopes up and moved into the bedroom as it was getting rather late. I had been coming in later and later these past few days after learning that Link seriously didn't need or want me around.

I was afraid that I would set him off again- I know it seems like he was being a bad person, but I knew from the start that he was simply upset, and he had to deal with everybody constantly tending to him all day and wasn't allowed to tell them to stop. Whenever I came home, he would just reach the end of his patience and he knew that it was okay to shout at me because, well, it's kind of what we had always done to one another.

He followed suit a little later, resting his papers on the desk as his face remained solemn. I saw him close his eyes and droop his head as his hand retorted to his chest once more, gripping and tugging at the material as he exhaled shakily.

I ignored it at first, knowing it would bug him if I talked to him about it.

But it didn't pass. He kept tugging at his shirt, kept breathing in and out unevenly.

"Link?" I asked. "Link, are you okay?"

"Yes, for the love of God." He muttered. "I'm fine." his words began to drawl and stutter. "I am perfectly-"

His knees buckled as he almost hit the floor, but I caught him in time.

"Link, come here. You're not well." I placed a hand on his chest and felt the impeccably rapid rate of his heartbeat. "Oh my goodness." I whispered to myself.

His face screwed up in fury as he tried pushing me away again. "Just leave!" he yelled, but he didn't get very far before he actually fell to his knees this time, gripping his chest so tightly that his fingers dug into the material as he winced.

"Link, listen to me, please don't push me away again." I held onto his shoulders as I tried to get him to focus on me, calm his breathing, but his eyes were still squeezed shut. "I knew this would happen, I knew it'd all come out after bottling it up for so long.."

He began breathing in and out faster and shakier, to the point where the breaths were so drastic that his eyes would widen with every inhale.

Plain and simple; he was having a panic attack.

He stood up and staggered towards the bed, gripping onto the posts as he tried to madly control his breathing. 

"Okay, Link, look at me." I ordered, but his eyes were still wide with fear, his hand still clutching his shirt. "Link, look at me!" I said, louder this time. He looked at me with remorse in his eyes and I held his hand and began breathing slowly and deeply. "In, out." I said as he tried to copy, but to no avail. "In and out, Link." I could tell that he was just as scared of this as I was.

I sat him down on the side of the bed, still holding his hand, as he closed his eyes again and drooped his head as I saw tears roll down his flushed face.

I interlocked my fingers with his, feeding him words of comfort as he struggled to get a hold of his breaths.

I made sure to keep my breaths slow and steady just incase he needed a template, and kept holding on until his breathing finally matched mine.

"There you go," I softly mumbled, stroking his hair as he lifted his head.

My worried expression returned, though, when he looked at me as if he really were about to burst. 

I still remember his face, because it was the first time I had ever seen him wear an expression that indicated that he needed help.

we both looked at each other for a moment until his shaky breathing returned and his face screwed up.

He was crying.

I had never seen Link cry before, and it scared me.

"Come here." I soothed as he embraced me, his hands gripping me tightly.

I held onto him as he began sobbing into my shoulder and I kept one of my hands in his hair, rocking him back and forth as he wailed and whimpered into me for what seemed like hours.

I didn't let up, though; I kept rocking him, saying things like, "It's alright," or, "I've got you."

His cries slowed at one point as I grabbed a towel from the post of the bed and wiped his cheeks dry, pushing his hair out of the way before he continued crying and crying, and crying.

After a very, very long time, he began to die down and I could tell he was close to sleep. Every time he would waiver in and out of sleep, he would wake up and grip me even tighter than before, as if he was trying to keep me here.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to let you go." I reassured him.

The noise soon stopped as his breathing grew steady. I lay down with him still in my arms, terrified of waking him up, and turned out the lights, falling asleep just like that.

So I had finally cracked him.

I wasn't sure if things would ever be the same again.