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He was doing it again.
They’d been studying together for the last two hours, poring over their textbooks for any relevant detail about flight trajectories and velocities and all the things they already knew how to do without putting big annoying words and numbers to it, thanks, sitting cross-legged on Zelda’s bedroom floor the same way they had since they were kids. And every once in a while, Link’s knee would brush hers and linger there.
And any thought she had in her head would fly right out the window.
It was so stupid! It was just a knee, for Hylia’s sake! Why was she over here thinking about how warm he was and how cozy he was and how firm the muscles of his leg felt against hers?! She wasn’t even touching any of his muscles, it was a knee! Which were notably bony! She was positively delusional.
Just as Zelda thought she might explode right then and there, he shifted again, and the pressure of his knee vanished. It wasn’t an unexpected movement—Link was restless at the best of times, and he’d been fidgeting all evening—but it invoked a lot of feelings for Zelda. Relief, but also…loss.
She wanted him to touch her. With more than just an accidental brush of his knee.
“Zel, do we really have to keep going?” Link yawned. “It’s getting pretty late.”
She rolled her eyes. “You can’t pull that one on me, sleepyhead. It’s not late, it’s just getting dark earlier.”
“Well, what about science? I heard that you’re not supposed to cram for a test, you’re supposed to study throughout the week and practice what you learned.”
“Well, Link, that would’ve been a fine idea if you’d started studying earlier, instead of needing me to force you to do it the day before our exam. What does science say about cramming versus not studying at all?”
He grimaced, but then chuckled. “It was worth a shot.”
“Uh-huh. Get back to reading, slacker.” Her eyes softened as her gaze darted over his messy hair and lovely, open face, and the affectionate smile resting on it. “Ten more minutes, and we can do some practice questions for a change of pace.”
“ Yeees, Headmistress,” Link drawled. Despite his sarcasm, his attention obediently returned to his textbook.
Zelda tried to take her own advice, but she couldn’t keep her focus on the pages before her. It had been growing worse and worse, lately. Whether or not he was around, she spent half of her time with her head in the clouds, and the other half so deeply in the moment that every little action struck her like lightning. It was stupid! This was her best friend, the person with whom she’d spent nearly every waking moment (and many unconscious ones, too) that she possibly could, since before she was actually capable of retaining memories. She shouldn’t be mooning after him like some music-drunk remlit. And yet, here she was.
She snuck a glance at him, just one short peek. His straw-colored bangs were dangling into his face, but she knew him so well that she could make out any expression of his as long as she had even a sliver of visibility. His thick brows—absolute caterpillars that they were—were scrunched in concentration, and she could see the tiredness in the lines around his eyes. Maybe after the question session, they’d take a break.
She sensed the movement in his body before it even began, and dropped her gaze back to her own textbook just before he took his own glance at her.
Hylia, she wished she knew what a peek like that meant for him. Was it to see if she was paying attention; to see if he could slack off, like she was a professor monitoring him in detention? Was it simply the gaze of a friend? Or had he looked for the same reason she had: that uncontrollable urge to just take him in, as much and as often as possible?
She’d realized her feelings for him as the days started getting longer at half-Zenith, when the massage he kneaded into her shoulders after her victorious Wing Ceremony awoke something within her she hadn’t even realized was dormant. And she’d been increasingly obvious with it—holding his hand more than ever, seeking him out in every free moment, sending him loftwing letters in the mornings so that her words could be the first ones he saw when he woke up. Really, the only way her affection could be more apparent would be if she leaned in for a kiss (although she’d probably wimp out before she could get within four inches of his face).
There was no way he couldn’t know, at this point, unless he was literally the most unobservant person to fly the skies. And yet, he had been so incredibly hard to read about it! Hadn’t said anything about the changes in her behavior, in confession or rejection. She knew he could be anxious, often needed time to push through emotional blocks and interrogate his true feelings. But it had been moons. Surely he’d say something soon.
Surely.
All at once, her thoughts shattered like glass as something hairy and heavy impacted her shoulder and stayed there. Link’s head. She turned her own to the side, ready to give him a piece of her mind for slacking off and distracting her, but—
Closed eyes, parted petal lips. Chest rising and falling slowly and evenly.
He was asleep.
Really, it was a miracle that he’d landed on her, rather than tipping over in the opposite direction and painfully sprawling onto the floor. Then again, he’d always been the goddess’s favorite.
“Such a sleepyhead,” she whispered, as quietly as she could manage. “Maybe I should call you blockhead, for how heavy that pumpkin you call a skull is.”
She couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she looked at him, feeling the weight of his head and his trust on her shoulder.
If he didn’t ask her about her feelings—or, goddess willing, confess some of his own—in the next half-year, she’d tell him how she felt after the next Wing Ceremony. Hopefully, he’d win, and she could confess her feelings to him atop the Goddess Statue. It would be suitably romantic, and if he rejected her she could always just leap off the statue.
A year would be a long time to wait with her head in the clouds and a permanently elevated heartbeat, but he was worth it. Always had been. And always would be, even if he didn’t return her romantic inclinations, and she stayed his platonic pal forever.
Zelda let out a sigh—that only slightly shuddered with all the yearning in her chest—and leaned her own head over to rest on Link’s. For now, this stolen moment was enough.