Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter one: Is it too much to ask for a normal life?

The afternoon fall air was cool and crisp, with a sharp biting breeze sending red and gold leaves dancing across the pavement. There was a nostalgic feeling in the air, the kind November brings, the feeling between Halloween and Christmas with the only other holiday being thanksgiving. It was quiet, simple, with no worries or problems, and Link’s favorite time of year. He just didn’t expect it to be so suddenly taken from him.

School around that time was great as well. His restlessness could be written off as eagerness, and everyone was too busy being impatient to notice his outbursts. Tetra was out of town visiting her father, giving Link time to work on her Christmas present as he did every year. Aryll was daydreaming of the holidays, while Linebeck was stressing over what he should do for them. Grandma sent him to school each day with a big tupperware of homemade soup, which filled him with a warm fuzzy feeling. Everything felt centered and balanced, the only slice of the delicious cake everyone called normal he got. 

The wind touched his exposed arms, and he shivered, hefting the back pack further up on his shoulder and adjusting his headphones, trying to speed up against the harsh battering gale. Past the apartments, into the suburbs, through rows upon rows of houses until the walk opened onto a roadway filled with chattering people.

 He stopped, breath caught mid it’s fearful leap in his throat. His heart thundered wildly in his ears, blood roaring in an ever deafening mantra of terror as his knees buckled. Time stood still stock still, and no sounds were heard, not the screams of other bystanders nor the soulful voice of Elvis in his headphones. Slowly, so very slowly, he pulled them down and rested them around his neck. The sounds and shouts of panic rushed into his ears.

It was a crash, a car crash, on such a level of destruction his small fixed brain couldn’t comprehend it. The car lay upside down, almost halfway between the road and a house, with broken headlights, shattered windows, dented metal, and blood, so much blood everywhere. It coated the street in a long dark smear, gruesome crimson color shining in the faint overcast light, hints of strewn flesh and bone everywhere. An ear here. Half a broken arm there. A bit of stomach hanging from the broken door. Above him, the clouds rolled in waves, giant goliath of a white roaring river. Below him, the ground spun into a fire swing on the playground, twisting round and round and round. Link clutched his stomach, fighting to keep his grandma’s cookies from erupting from his throat.

He watched, breathing rapid, as they pulled the body of a teen from the car. Half his face was missing, the ear stripped to wiggling bits of flesh and his teeth exposed through the hole in his cheek. His long blonde hair was tied in a ponytail down his back, matted tufts sticky with hot red blood. His sweatshirt hung in tatters, soaked in the same liquid coating the street. The paramedics couldn’t be bothered to pull a sheet over his body, running back to the broken vehicle for another. Link stopped stock still, staring at the spot where he lay, slowly tearing his eyes away and up.

The same boy stood on the other side, looking from the body’s blood soaked hands to his own slightly transparent ones. Then he glanced forward, and their eyes met.

Link sucked in a breath as the boy’s eyes went wide, hope drawing across his face like the bright bloom of a flower. He thrust his arm in the air, waving frantically. “Hey! Hey, you!” He called, starting towards him. “Hey!” Link didn’t think twice, not caring for others' judgement as he turned and raced down the street, headphones and backpack thumping against his neck and spine, chest mercilessly abuses by the charm around he wore, the charm that was supposed to ward off demons and ghosts. His mother should have gotten him a cross, not some pink butterfly he didn’t know why he still wore. Perhaps it was because it was the only piece of her she left behind.

He twisted and turned, maneuvering around houses  and leaping into neighborhoods not his own, taking lefts and rights he never took before, trying to shake the fading shouts behind him. Then they died away, and Link slowed to a stop, using his knees as a rest for his heaving chest. His vision was blurry, as hot salty tears welled up in his eyes and threatened to spill from their prison. He wiped them away, stumbling back as a constant mantra of his own voice echoed inside his head, a thousand screams growing in volume as they all told him to get home get home start your legs and fucking get home.

Though the neighborhood was big, navigation had always been a skill he was praised for, especially when it came to sailing and geocaching. His uncle jokingly told him he was born with a very strong magnet in his body. Aryll of course took that to heart, going as far as to call 911 and have a meltdown, demanding that they save her brother’s life. The fine and scolding were rough, but seeing her so worried about him gave the blossoming feeling of being loved so unconditionally.

As Link neared his house, calm began to come over him again, relaxation at the hope that maybe, just maybe, he could have his special normal November, one without spirits or mental breakdowns. With the turn of a key and the click of a lock, he stepped inside his house, and was immediately greeted with the smell of warm soup, hugs and kisses, and a hint of sea salt. To put it simply, home.

“Grandma?” He called, slipping out of his shoes and carelessly throwing his pack against the closet door. He was met with a small hum, the random sounds quickly morphing into a tune.  The lullaby grew as Link stepped into the kitchen, swaying along to the song slightly. His grandmother stood at the stove stirring yet another pot of soup, completely lost to the world as the boiling liquid threatened to bubble over. Link gasped, leaping into action, gently pulling his grandma away and throwing a lid on the pot, cranking the knob down from 400 to 0. He sighed, taking the spoon from his grandmother’s hand. “Link? Why did you pull me away? Now I will have to make a new batch of soup.” She wasn’t mad at all, smile still full of care, eyes crinkling kindly through her wrinkles. “Grandma, the soup was boiling over, you might have burned yourself.” He answered, leading her into the living room and handing her a basket of sewing supplies that sat near the armchair. She laughed, picking up the tools and sitting down in the chair. “I do hope I can get this done in two weeks, I want it to be your favorite birthday present.”

His birthday was three months ago.

After calling Linebeck about who would pick up Aryll(neither of them, apparently she was going over to play at Medli and Komalis’ house) and assuring reassuring him that grandma was alright, Link trekked upstairs, unplugging his headphones and placing them on his nightstand. He threw himself on the bed, arms and eyes stretched wide open to the ceiling, contemplating the day’s events. He hadn’t seen the ghost since coming upon the crash, thankfully losing it in the winding rows of houses. Though, Link couldn’t help but feel bad for him. The boy seemed so confused, standing next time the wreckage of his body. So lost, unknowing of the fate that befell him. And then Link realized.

The boy didn’t know he was dead.

Link sat up with a jolt, stomach heaving painfully. He was dead, and didn’t know it. He was wandering around, trying to touch people and only receiving a shiver. Trying to talk to people, and getting the cold shoulder. They couldn’t see him, or hear him, or feel him. And he had no idea why. He might wander around for years, even after Link joined his plane, never knowing why, until one day it may dawn on him, and he will realize he is forever alone. Link’s chest ached terribly without him wanting it to. 

Guilt tore a wildfire through his heart, leaving only a land of barren darkness. He knew he shouldn’t feel for the dead. He stopped that years ago, as it only served to hurt him. Still, something about the boy’s tragedy left a dull uncomfortable throb. Suddenly the room felt too small, his thoughts too big, chain the chain around his heart pulling him down, down, down, to the bottom of the canyon.

Link leapt off the bed, grabbing his headphones and cell, thumping down the stairs past pictures of their laughing, happy family, filled with members only he could see. He passed by his grandmother, who had fallen asleep with the news on. “—k Jones was only 18 at the time of his tragic death. His father was driving the car, and authorities think he might have been intoxicated—“ With a click, the tv blinked off, his shaky hands making it hard to set the remote down quietly. Sick, he felt so sick, with a tight chest and a churning stomach and sweaty palms. Glancing at his slumbering grandmother one last time, he stepped out into the yard and ran to the lookout.

The lookout was just a short lookout tower overseeing their street and backyard, only about 12 feet high and level with the trees around it. The ladder lay against it’s base, with paintings and stickers of seagulls and flowers covering it. Linebeck originally made it for both of them, presenting it on Aryll’s birthday when they got back from a month long trip back to outset, but the little girl immediately claimed it as her own, calling it Aryll’s lookout and getting right to work with stickers and paint. It was her favorite place, used for tea parties, picnics, homework, and sleepovers. But when Aryll wasn’t home, or when Link needed some space, she knew that the place became his for however long he needed. Well, she wasn’t home, and he needed it right now.

Pulling himself up onto the wooden platform, he lay staring up at the ceiling breath shallow and eyes blurring with tears. One slipped down his cheek, leaving a dark wet spot on the floor. He was far too tired to sip anymore away, choosing instead to plug in his headphones and swipe through his songs. Tapping on shuffle play, the soothing words of I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You floated through his ears. He sucked in a deep breath, releasing it in the meditating way his grandma taught. He simply needed to relax, and forget what he saw, for in all due time it would blow over and be like nothing ever happened. 

A small breath brushed Link’s left cheek, and he jolted up, taking off his headphones. The sky has faded from bright white and grey to a darker color, sucking shadows into it’s mass. He had fallen asleep. “Aryll?” He yawned, hanging the headphones on the railing. There was a familiar chill in the air, one his sleep addled brain couldn’t place. Glancing to his left, he saw the crouched figure of the ghost boy that chased him earlier. He gave a small sheepish wave. 

Link scuttled back, screaming, arms clamoring for the ladder and escape. “Wait! Wait! Wait!” The ghost stuttered, hands held up in mock surrender as he stood, immediately dropping back down to the ground when Link only screamed louder. “Please I really need your help, I’ll make it up to you, I swear—“ Link ceased his shouts, breathing rapid and eyes wild. “How in the name of Hylia could you pay me back?” He grit out, thrusting his back even farther against the railing. 

There was pain in the ghost’s eyes, shining with tears he could no longer shed. “Once I’m out of this mess, I’ll get you anything you want. I...got nowhere to go. You’re the only one that can see me.” Link stopped. There was such Desperation in those blue eyes, a cold clinging hope that wouldn’t let go. He hung onto the edge, unsure of how he got there, looking up at the tall trees of life, stretching up into the free sky, not ready to dive into the dark canyon of death, not ready to be alone. He saw that and so much more reflected in those blue eyes, the color of hope, clinging to his own green eyes of life, reaching for the salvation they held. He took a deep breath.

“I can’t help you.” Link said, heart wrenching at the broken look on the boy’s face. “No one can. You...you died.” There couldn’t be a sadder expression, emotions leaping from disbelief to anger to confusion to an unhappiness like no other. “No…” He whispered. “That—That can’t be possible. I’m walking. And talking. I’m alive.” Link shook his head, pushing past the fear in his gut and leaning forward. “Haven’t you noticed you haven’t gotten tired? Or hungry? Haven’t felt the pain of your injuries? Look at you.” He broke off, gesturing to the deep wounds covering the ghost’s body. “No one can survive that. You’re dead.” 

Link could tell the boy didn’t believe it still. He hadn’t ever had to tell a spirit they weren’t living anymore. He always tried to avoid them, working hard to keep out of their way and seem like a normal person. The ghost struggled with a response, half intact mouth opening and closing like a fish. The horrible feeling had returned, an uncomfortable ache in his chest as the mantra started up again, this time chanting the words that had been plaguing him since the age of ten. Why me?

“I’m sorry I can’t help you.” Link apologized, sliding towards the ladder. “You May be able to find another ghost to talk to somewhere else. Goodbye—“ The ghost freaked out, reaching out a hand to grab Link’s arm with a cry of wait! Like a flash, sharp pain exploded through his elbow, and he screamed, tearing himself away with heavy breathing. “What was that for?” Link hissed, nursing the now full fading throb. The spirit looked terrified, stuttering in a choked voice. “I didn’t mean-I’m so-goddess, I’m sorry, please don’t go.” He begged. “Please, I can't do this. Please let me stay with you, you’re the only one that can see me.” 

His shining blue eyes stopped Link again, melting all inhibitions he had before. The ghost boy needed this. His death came as such a shock, a sudden plunge into that dark canyon, and he could tell he was only pretending to accept his death so as to not lose the green salvation trying to slip away, not letting it go when it was so close.

“...I guess you can stay, so long as you don’t cause trouble.” He said hesitantly, heart winning out against every screaming voice telling him that this was a bad idea. The ghost boy lit up, getting to his feet. “Thank you. I just...thank you.” He couldn’t seem to put his gratitude into words, choosing instead to follow after Link as he climbed down. “What’s your name?”

“Link.” Link replied, touching the ground and starting towards the house. “And I know your last name is Jones, I saw it on the news.” Upon entering the house, Link greeted his still sleeping grandmother, grabbing a cookie and quietly walking up the stairs. The ghost boy stayed silent until they got to Link’s room, when which he aptly started talking. “The thing is...my name is Link too.” Link stared at him, trying his best to figure out what to do. He didn’t have a panic procedure for a living Link and a dead Link.

 “...Nicknames?” The dead Link suggested, putting his arms up in a shoulder shrug. Living Link sighed. “Yes…” He trailed off, sticking out his tongue while dead Link lit up. “Cool! I’ll be...Wild.” He finished thoughtfully. Link turned to him. “Wild? Can’t say it doesn’t suit you.” He eyed the boy’s tousled and erratic appearance. “You can call me...um...Wind.” He remembered going by the name in elementary school, though not by choice. Mainland kids were kinda bitches. “Wind? Why Wind?” Wild asked, looking around the seashell covered room. Wind blushed. “My last name is Makani, which in hawiian is...Wind.” Wild seemed satisfied. “Honestly, suits you too.” He smiled, giving a thumbs up before getting lost in thought again. “Another thing...why are you the only one that can see me? Is it like a blessing from the goddesses?”

Wind laughed. “No, I think the goddesses fucking hate me.”

Chapter Text

“Link!” Linebeck called from downstairs, making both ghost and boy jump. They glanced at each other warily, unsure of what the other may say. “Listen.” Wind said seriously, eyeing Wild with a fiery glint and wagging a finger in his direction. “You promise not to do anything. Don’t talk, don’t touch, and for the love of the goddesses, don’t walk through anyone. ” And off he went, thumping down the stairs. Wild hesitated. “Wait, I can walk through people?” He said incredulously.

“Big brother!” Aryll shouted, laughing with delight and leaping into his arms. Unlike most siblings, Wind and his sister got on quite well. Sure, there was the occasional fight and cold shoulder, but all in all they were extremely close. Perhaps it was losing their parents together, or switching continents together, or being one of the only other kids on their small island together. Whatever it was, it created that unshakeable bond between them, unbroken love, always there and never forgotten. 

He gave a little wave to Medli and Komali, who had come to drop her off. They smiled and waved back, giving and receiving thanks, shutting the door behind them as they left. “You’re getting too heavy for me to pick up.” Wind grunted, wobbling a little when Aryll only cling on tighter. “Aw come on, at least carry me into the living room!” She giggled. He sighed, unable to keep the smile off of his face. “Alright, Koala.” They passed by Wild on the stairs, the older of the two wearing a strange, furrowed expression. 

As they walked into the living room, Wind caught his uncle’s sharp eye and frantic head shake. He was trying to wake grandma up, giving her arm light shakes and murmuring her name under his breath. “What’s going on big brother?” Aryll asked, trying to wiggle out of his grip. Wind only hefted her up higher, taking a shortcut through the kitchen. “Ya know what Koala?” He laughed as authentically as possible. “You have homework don’t you? Get to work on that.” Aryll whined, huffing at his no buts. “Fine.” She said haughtily, grabbing the comp book from her backpack and almost snarling when Wind grabbed her arm.

 “I need to talk to you about something later. Go to my room after you’ve been put to bed, alright?” She stared at him, eyes wide. “Is it about the-“ He shushed her, nodding. “Later, okay? Now go to your homework.” She huffed again, skipping out the front door all the way around to the backyard.

Wind watched her through the window, waiting until she was all the way up the lookout tower, before turning and racing back into the living room. At some point, Wild has gotten up from his perch on the stairs and was circling around Linebeck and grandma worriedly, debating on whether or not to touch one of them. Wind hissed, leaping into action and taking a spot beside his uncle, making crazy hand gestures at the ghost, stopping when Linebeck gave him a pointed look. He laughed nervously, shooting a glare at Wild before returning to the slumbering woman in the arm chair. “Mom...mom...Evelyn.” She jolted awake, muttering a small Jim is that you? and where are the donuts?

Wind almost laughed, changing the impulse to a broad smile. “It’s your son mom.” Linebeck sighed, taking her hand. “Your son Linebeck, and your grandson Link, remember?” She waved him off, ignoring their sputtering protests as she stood up from the chair. “I know my family boy, you looked just like Jim for a second.” She said, waddling into the kitchen. “Now, who wants soup?”

Dinner went by peacefully, with Aryll finishing her homework and Wild only watching longingly as they slurped up the delicious broth and talked about their days. “I want to go to bed.” Aryll announces as soon as the soup had been drained, setting her bowl down on the table with a clatter. She pranced up the stairs, ignoring her uncle's incredulous look. Wind snickered behind his spoon, smile fading away upon noticing the sad expression on Wild’s face. He ate the rest of his soup in silence.

Soon, grandma went to bed as well, kissing them both goodnight. “I’ll make more soup tomorrow!” She called from the staircase, sending Wind and Linebeck into fits of giggles. “Can I play beat saber?” Wind asked as they walked over to the couch, taking their respective spots on the couch like they did every night. Linebeck stares at him, a cold unwavering gaze completed with the raise of a brow. Wind stared back with a fire to equal the desolation, determination etched into every curve of his face. 

“...No.” Linebeck finally laughed, snatching up the remote and turning on the news. Wind groaned, shooting an evil glare at Wild, who was cracking up on the floor. He grabbed the switch from it’s port, turning on to find his game right where he left it. Wild looked over his shoulder, whispering a “What’s that?” In his ear, causing him to startle and brush Wild’s form again with the tip of his ear. 

The pain exploded through it, a fiery hot sharp sensation like a thousand stinging needles pricking every inch of the appendage. Wind shrieked, jumping back and rubbing the quickly fading pain, shooting Wild a dirty look as he apologized profusely. “Are you alright?!” Linebeck shouted alarmed, leaping up from his seat. Wind grinned sheepishly, smile quickly morphing into a grimace. “Yeah, just slept funny and tweaked my ear wrong.” He laughed, rubbing the back of his head. Linebeck raised a brow, opening his mouth to say more when the news broadcast caught his attention. 

“—cause of the crash has been determined as drunk driving on part of the father, resulting in the death of him and 18 year old Link Jones. The crash occurred 1986 street sw, at about 2:40pm—“ 

Wind glanced over at Wild once more. The ghost’s jaw had gone slack, eyes widened to the size of saucers. He was staring at the mangled crash sight on the tv, now probably moved and disposed of. Wind felt sick. The car was all Wild knew of himself, having been left with nothing but his name and a few memories to guide him. He didn’t understand that nothing could ever be done for him, still dangling over the canyon, still reaching for the towering tees and high free sky, still reaching for the green salvation. 

Linebeck gripped his nephew’s arm tight, soft brown meeting brilliant green, an alarmed concern passing between them. “Listen. You ever see anything like that, and you run the other way. I know you walked by it on the way home. You see that shit, you call me and I will tear arse to get to you. Ya got it Link?” Wind nodded quickly, shooting another glance at Wild, who was still fixated on the tv. “Yeah, got it uncle. I’ll call you, I promise.” Linebeck released his arm, apologizing if he hurt him at all. Wind let out a huge fake yawn, stretching his arms toward the sky and standing up, leaving the switch on the arm chair.

“Whelp, I’m pretty tired, so I’m gonna head up to bed. Night Linebeck.” He called, racing up the stairs and beckoning to Wild. It took a few moments and a few hushed whispers to get the ghost awake and away from the tv, clambering up the stairs two at a time. They passed by a red door with painted seagulls and flowers, Wind slowly opening it to check if Aryll was inside. She was not. “Aren’t...Aren’t you going to brush your teeth?” Wild stuttered, arms clenched and crossed, as if he was trying to fold into himself. Wind tched. “No need, my teeth are fine.” He grumbled, swinging open the door of his own bedroom. 

“Aryll!” He cried in a hushed whisper, causing the little girl to almost drop the seashell wreath she held in a rush to hide it behind her back. She smiled sheepishly, slowly placing on the bed and glancing away to avoid her brother’s wicked glare. “Um...hey! Is that the sleeping per—“ Wind leapt at her, hand clamped over her mouth and shushing her frenziedly. “Yes, its the ghost. Now keep it down!” He hissed, giving her head a little chaff for good measure. Wild chuckled, eyes still wide, arms still reaching even though clenched at his sides. 

“Wait...she...she can see me too?!” Wild gasped, stepping forward and looking at Aryll like an exotic animal. She laughed. “Yup. I can see the sleepers, just like big brother. And you have so much paint on you! What happened?” Wild have Wind a sharp glance, shrinking a little under his molten glare. “Um...paintball practice?” He said, raising the end of the sentence into a question. Wind sighed, taking a seat on his ocean blue comforter. “Yes, she can see you too, but you won’t hang out much. There’s me and Aryll, and there’s you, got it?”

Wild nodded, nearly giddy when Wind smiled softly. “Big brother!” Aryll scolded, thwaping him on the head and earning herself a sharp ow! “Don’t be rude to our guest, even if that guest is a sleeping person.” Wind groaned, shooting daggers at his little sister. “Yeah yeah, alright. Now you gotta go to bed.” She giggled, thrusting her arms out to her sides and jutting put her chin. “Carry me.” She demanded with a smile, sending Wild into another fit of laughter. Wind gave him yet another glare, staring his sister down before sighing and picking her up, settling her on his hip. “You wait here Wild. I’m going to take her to bed.” Wind said without a glance back, opening his bedroom door with a grunt. “Goodnight Mr Wild! See you in the morning!” Aryll smiled, waving at the ghost sweetly. Wild raised a hand and waved back, a strange look crossing his face.

“Why are you see mean to the sleeping people, big brother?” Aryll whispered, snuggling deeper into her covers as Wind pulled them up. He sighed. How to explain death to an eight year old? How to talk about the everlasting walk, the eternal sleep to one who didn’t have to worry about it for years upon years to come? Children lived in an innocent bliss, wanting to know everything and anything about the world. Always taking another step closer to that dark canyon, always wanting to stand on the edge and look down, always wanting to see the bottom and come back. Yet the slope is steep, the wet grass slippery, and all it takes is one misstep and then they’re falling, falling down and down and down, wishing they had stayed away from the edge, but by then it is too late. If you stare into the abyss, the abyss will stare back.

“Let’s just say...they aren’t very nice to me.” He whispered, brushing the hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. “But Mr Wild seems nice.” She mumbled sleepily, eyes dropping shut, breath slowing more and more. Wind smiled softly, heart filling at her tired excitement. “Yeah, I guess so. Mr Wild has some problems however, and I’m going to help fix them. Then, Mr Wild will leave, okay?” Aryll’s eyes went wide, body struggling beneath the blankets. “But I don't want him to go, I want him to stay with us forever!” She cried, tearful wet eyes flashing kelly green in the silver moonlight streaming in from outside the window. He shushed her, putting a finger to her lips and slowly pushing her back down onto the bed. 

“Mr Wild can’t stay, he has things to do outside of us. Once I’m done helping him, he has to go and do his things. You don’t want to force him to stay here, do you?” Aryll sniffed, shaking her head. If there was one thing she couldn’t bring herself to do, it was forcing others into things. Wind knew that seeing people suffer for her, dragging their feet and playing along, all to make her happy. She worries, worries that if they don’t like what she does they will leave her behind, leave her for someone better. And then she might be all alone, lost in the blackness, and then there’s no need to walk closer to the edge of the canyon, not if you’re already at the bottom. “Big brother?” She asked, slowly drifting off into the land of dreams. “When is mom coming home?” Wind stopped, needing a second to process the question. “Um...soon, Aryll. Real soon.” And with that bit of reassurance she smiled, closing her eyes and turning over to sleep.

He shut the door gently behind him, creeping back into his own room where Wild sat on the bed, swinging his legs back and forth and watching them go through the frame. He looked up upon Wind’s arrival, opening his mouth to speak but stopping when Wind shushed him. “Listen...I guess I’m sorry, about all this. I know you just died and don’t remember how, and I know I’ve been kinda a jerk tonight. I just can’t get used to a ghost being here. I always tried to keep them away, ya know?” He said, pulling his pajamas out of the dresser, motioning for Wild to turn around as he changed. “So...that was me? My body?” Wind didn’t need to clarify to know exactly what Wild was talking about. He breathed in sharply, pulling on his pants and walking over to the bed. “Yeah. Do you believe me now?” He asked, sitting down with a bounce. Wild slowly turned, eyes once again wide as saucers, wide enough to watch the abyss as it watched him. 

“...A little. I still can’t really wrap my head around it. I...don’t want to get used to it.” He hesitated, taking Wind’s seat as the boy dug himself under the covers with a sigh. “I know. I don’t think you will for awhile honestly. Right now, it’s just something ya gotta exist with.” He took care to avoid saying the word ‘live’, reaching over and pulling on the string of the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. “I have to go to bed. Maybe you can try, but I have school tomorrow.” Wind mumbled, turning onto his side and squeezing his eyes shut. Perhaps, if he went to sleep and woke up everything would just be a bad dream. There would be no crash, no strange pains, and no weird ghosts that shared his name. He would wake up, safe and cozy in the confines of his blankets, opening the start to another normal November day. With that pleasant thought in mind, he drifted off to sleep.

It didn’t work.

Wind groaned, throwing off the covers and stomping over to the closet, shutting himself inside. Wild jumped awake, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, even though he had no need to. “What’s goin on?” He murmured, standing up from the bed and looking around the room, attention focusing on the muffled curses coming from the closet. The door swung open, revealing a very angry young boy wearing the same blue and white shirt he did the previous day. “Did you turn off my alarm?!” He snarled, grabbing socks from his dresser and shoving them one. Wild looked over at the clock, reading the time. 10:09. “Um...maybe?” He shrugged with a sheepish smile. “It went off super early, so I tried to reach out for the button, and I guess it just stopped.” He flinched at Wind’s fiery glare, eyes burning bright. “My school started two hours ago!!” He hissed, throwing open the bedroom door and crashing down the stairs. Wild sighed. Just another way he messed up.

“Late? That’s quite unlike you.” Grandma smiled from her armchair, watching Wind scramble around for a quick breakfast. “My alarm clock didn’t work Grandma. Not my fault.” He growled, catching the counter as he slipped on the smooth tile kitchen floor.the toast popped up with a ding, and Wind snatched it from the toaster, shoving both pieces in his mouth. Wild watched from the staircase, face lighting up when a jerk of Wind’s head told him to follow. He nearly flew down the stairs, waiting patiently as Wind tugged on his sneakers and slung his backpack over his shoulder, slipping through the door as it slammed shut, leaving the house in silence once more. Grandma smiled, her needles flying, knitting more onto the bright red scarf in her hands. “Kids these days. Always in such a rush.” She chuckled. Barely noticeable, it was a soft brush of air, a small shift in the wind, too small for anyone to see. “Yes…” the breeze whispered in a tone no one could hear, for there was no breeze in the house. “Perhaps they should slow down, for a few seconds…”

“Wow! This is your school?” Wild exclaimed as they ran into the courtyard. A large tree grew in the center, with the rest of the buildings surrounding it. Around the back sat a slope, leading down to a large inky lake, covered in water rushes and driftwood. The red bricks shone in the grey white light of the overcast day. “Yes. And I am in so much trouble.” Wind groaned, opening the door to the office and signing in. The woman peered at him from behind her spectacles, long hooked nose taking a sharp sniff as she handed him a lunch duty slip and a late pass. “Such wonderful timing, Mr Makani.” She huffed haughtily as Wind exited the office. Wild glared at her, anger coursing through every specter of his being. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t let it go, thrusting his arm into her chest and pulling out just as quickly, leaving her screaming on the floor. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. Truly. But something inside him wanted this, wanted to see her suffer. With one last huff, he walked through the office door.

Wind was waiting in front of a brightly colored door on the other side of the circle, scanning the courtyard for signs of his ghost. Upon noticing Wild, he stuck his hand in the air, beckoning violently. Wild rushed over, grinning sheepishly at Wind’s glare. The boy raised a brow, warning him to be quiet one more time before swinging open the door to the classroom. Every pair of eyes, blue, green, black and brown, was fixed on him. Wind grimaced, setting down his backpack and slipping into his chair at the back of the classroom, handing the teacher his late pass as he stalked over to collect it. “Slept in, which Mr Makani?” He sniffed, reading the slip. “My alarm clock broke.” He corrected, immediately regretting the action at his teacher’s stare. “If we may continue without and more interruptions, please open your books to page 394 and fill out the next five pages.” The class groaned, some shooting Wind a glare. He shrunk down in his seat, bitterly opening the dog and filling out the questions.

“You forgot to carry the five.” Wild said into his ear at 3 minutes to the bell. Wind slowly turned to him, an incredulous expression on his face. “...This is English class.” He whispered back. The ghost shrugged. “Is it though?” He grinned chaotically, causing Wind to double check his paper. “You suck.” He muttered, trying to grind out the last question before the bell rang. No such luck. 

With three mighty bongs the clock struck 11:45, sending kids scrambling for their things and clamoring out the door. Wind sighed, turning the unfinished book in and shuffling out the door. “Today sucks.” He grumbled, returning Mila’s small wave as he walked past. Why him? Why did he have to wake up late, earning him a lunch duty and half his English class’ hatred? Simply unfair. He stopped, throwing his head back and releasing a long groan. “Ya know what? Fuck it. No way in hell am I going to do that stupid lunch duty, I’m out, I’m gonna take a walk, lolo kanapapiki , ai kukae a make …” He trailed off, stomping in the direction of the lake, leaving a very confused Wild behind.

“Wait, Wind!” He called out, racing over to the now sprinting boy. “What? What could you possibly say that could make me feel better right now?” He stopped, holding a hand up to his nose, where a trickle of blood had slowly rolled out. “He mea ka’u kahe ana kekahi ihu.” He muttered bitterly. Wild caught up and flipped in front of him. “Just stop for a second! Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for turning off your alarm, I’m sorry for making you late, and I’m sorry for distracting you when you were trying to work. It was my fault, I admit to it—“

He didn’t get a chance to finish, for right then a small red monster attacked them.

With a snarl and a ferocious whirlwind of claws, it leapt at them, somehow landing on Wild and began trying to tear into him. Wind screamed, tripping over his own two feet in an attempt to get away. Wild grabbed the beast from his shoulder, throwing it up the hill. It landed with a crash, skidding across the grass before leaping up with a snarl of gnashing teeth. “Go down to the lake!” Wild shouted, readying his arms in a defensive stance. “Go done, and wait for me there! I’ll catch up!” Wind looked at him with a cry of “Are you crazy!?” Which quickly morphed into another scream as the creature leapt again, aiming directly for him, with it’s lithe body and floppy ears. 

Wild grunted, throwing it off again and pinning it to the ground. “GO!” He shouted and for a moment Wind was frozen, frozen in fear, frozen stock still until Wild called out his name again, shocking him out of his petrified state and sending him tumbling down the hill.

His thoughts were rushing, brain crowded and heart racing, mind barely able to comprehend a single letter per minute. What was that thing? Why did it attack us? How did it see, much less touch Wild? How? What? When? Why, why, why? Before Wind knew it the ground had grown soggy and soft, each step soaking his sneakers and socks with marshy lake water. He sat down on a relatively dry spot on the bank, drawing his knees up and hugging them tightly. 

He could barely breathe. It was as if a rope had wrapped around his heart, leaving his chest wound up and so very small. Tears sprung into his eyes as sticky coated his nose, and he raised a dirty hand to wipe it all away, only succeeding in smearing his face in a mixture of all three. A frustrated sob escaped his lips, and he clamped a hand over his mouth. Then he noticed the person sitting beside him.

He sat cross legged on the bank, leaning slightly, cool gaze fixed on the calm waters. His hair was a sandy blonde, holding an almost orange tint, save for the pink strip of hair on his left. His skin was a pale white, dark purple shadows creating a large contrast under his eyes. And every inch of him, from the blue beanie on his head to the 1980s style boots on his feet, was soaking, dripping wet. Duckweed and water rushes hung off of his body, each a shiny dark green. Wind choked, staring at the boy and catching his attention. “W-what, what are you doing here?” He gasped.

His drenched hair flung a few drops of water into Wind’s face as he turned around, checking behind him and beside him for anyone his new companion could be talking to, and finding nothing. “Wait...you can see me?” Wind groaned, slamming his head into his hands because he had, once again, acknowledged a ghost. It was a wonder he didn’t realize it before, but a dark cloud had passed over the light, plunging the world into semi darkness and dimming the ghost’s transparency. Now that the light was out again, the slightly see through effect was obvious. 

“Yes!” Wind cried, standing up and throwing his arms out. “Yes, I can see you and I don’t want to. I hate this! I hate seeing ghosts, I hate being followed, I fucking hate my life!” He sat back down, heaving sobs wracking his body, vision going spotty because he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe and he felt like he was dying. The ghost looked at him awkwardly, eyes darting left and right before he spoke. “Listen man, ya gotta calm down, ya gotta breathe.” Wind laughed hysterically. “What would you know about breathing?!” He shrieked, slapping his knee as the ghost balked, expression slightly hurt. “Okay, ow, dude. Rude, why on earth would you say that? Whatever.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Listen, just try my method, got it?” Wind laughed again, still struggling to breathe, for what did he have to lose?

“Think of a beach. Or a bank, or a cliff, or a river. I don’t care. You see the tide going out and coming in? Breathe in as the tide goes out, and let it go as the waves crash on shore.” Wind pictured it. He imagined the soothing sounds and songs of his island, the smell of the salty sea air, the whisper of the palms as the breeze flew through them. And though his brain screamed, though his thoughts rushed, though his heart thundered on a warpath, he forced himself to relax, squeezing his eyes shut and focusing on the crashing waves. They go out. Breathe in. They come in. Breathe out. He repeated the motion over and over, lungs expanding more and more until his heart returned to it’s normal rate. And he could breathe.

And he was alive. 

“H-how…” Wind trailed off, opening his eyes. No way in hell was a method supposed to work that well. He had never had anything like it, never felt that almost instant soothing effect. “I just got breathing help from a ghost.” Wind exclaimed, astonished. The boy looked at him, expression blank, before a small chuckle escaped his lips. “A drowned ghost actually. Even better.” Wind laughed, glancing behind him to check for any creatures cresting over the hill. No creatures. But no Wild either.

“What’s your name?” Wind asked, turning back around. He didn’t enjoy talking to the ghost, as it gave him the same queasy feeling meeting Wild did. But he seemed nice, and Wind needed someone to talk to at the moment, someone to distract him from his racing worries. More than anything, he didn’t want to be alone. “Link.” The ghost replied. Wind stared at him, looking for any sign that he may be joking. He wasn’t. “How about you?” The boy asked, resting his head on his hand. Wind took a deep breath. “Link.” He stated proudly, turning away from the other’s shocked face. “But I go by Wind, because there is another Link I know that’s on his way. So...why don’t you choose a nickname too.” The ghost opened his mouth to argue, before sighing, thinking for a moment. 

“...Legend.” He mumbled, turning away. “What was that?” Wind teased, crossing his arms. “I said, just call me Legend! Ya know the legend of the guy who died here? Well you’re looking at him!” Legend snapped, eyes burning with a cold blue fire. Wind stared at him, jaw slack. “That was you? All those years ago?” He whispered. “What happened?” Legend sighed bitterly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” Wind glared at his angry expression. “Try me.” He dared.

Legend looked at him, raising a brow for comformation. Wind said nothing, only leaning forward with an impatient huff. The ghost sighed again, sighing as if he had air to breathe, for while the air stayed the same with no pushes or pulls, the sound rang clear as a bell. “Well,” He started. “It was the summer of ‘94. I had just lost my uncle to a crazy murderer of some sort, like a cultist. This was a dark time, ya know. There was suicide, sacrifices, you name it.  People were offing each other left and right. See, here’s the tea about tradgey. You never expect it to happen to you, and you never will. If everything is going phat, then what is there to turn that around? You feel untouched, above those who lost loved ones, not realizing they felt the same way. After I lost my uncle, I went to live with my two younger cousins. And I won’t say they didn’t help. But she...she was able to make me smile even as I watched the world burn.”

Legend looked out over the lake, a faraway look in his blue eyes, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he thumbed something in his pocket.

“Her name, I won’t say. You wouldn’t recognize it anyway, but she was my everything. My sun, my moon, and my stars, my light in the darkest of nights. We met when I was about 15, and were together for 4 wonderful years. I remember when I was angry, she was the only one that could calm me down. And when I was sad, she would sing to me with the voice of a goddess, so tender and soulful, a voice that exists only in the world of dreams…” Legend stopped. “Fuck, sorry, went off on a tangent there.” He whispered. Wind leaned forward even more. “What happened to her? To you?” Like the flash of a daydream soaring by, Legend’s eyes changed from the blue of a youthful rainy day to a stormy night filled with thunder clouds, lightning flashing and burning. 

“Drowned.” He muttered bitterly. “We drowned. It was a warm sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. Back then this lake was cleaner, bigger, and we loved to rent a rowboat and go out on the water. So, we did just that. And for awhile everything was fine. Then the storm came. The sky went dark and the waves on the lake-once smoother than glass-tossed us around like ragdolls. We yelled for help, but no one came. I think they all ran. And then...she went under. I dived down after her, going deeper and deeper until she...disappeared. I know I lost her, because how can a person just disappear? I searched until I couldn’t stay under any longer. I tried to go up, but...didn’t make it.”

He shuddered. “It wasn’t fun. There’s something about opening your mouth and only taking in water, having your lungs scream at you for air, feeling that terrible burning pain in your chest...It hurts so much. When I woke up I was under the water, and panicked, before remembering the drowning. When I got up to the surface, I saw them hauling my body out of the rushes, the same ones covering my body. But here’s the thing,” He spat, eyes narrowing dangerously. “It’s not that they never found her body. It’s that they never fucking looked. It was like everyone forgot she ever existed. Erased. Gone. This is the last thing she ever gave me. The paramedics took it out of my pocket and threw it into the cattails.” He yanked a droopy, soggy hibiscus flower from his pocket, one with a few missing petals. “All I ever wanted was for her to have a grave next to mine. All I ever wanted was for her to be remembered.”

Wind stared at the flower in his hand, thinking deeply. Simply losing a body, simply having no records of a person ever existing, it wasn’t possible. And yet Legend seemed so sincere. His deep blue eyes shone with the color of bitterness. The color of anger. H had given up on climbing up the edge a long time ago, choosing instead to make a slow descent, yet not done walking. Not ready to kiss the world goodbye, drifting alone on a sea of memories, desperately searching for land. “Why am I even telling you this? You’re just an illusion, something my so called mind made up for company.” 

Wind startled, narrowing his eyes at Legend. “I am very much real.” He huffed, crossing his arms and giving him a glare. “I can prove it. Look.” And with that, he stuck his hand inside Legend, pulling out soaked in lake water. “See? Would a so called illusion do that? I’m more real than you, so watch it buster.” Legend stared at him, shocked, mouth opening and closing to the likeness of a fish. “Holy fuck.” he whispered, eyes tracing the water flowing through Wind’s hand. “You can actually see me? How?” Wind shook his head, shrugging. “I don’t know. I wish I couldn’t, believe me. People always talk smack about how cool it would be to see ghosts, but honestly, it fucking sucks. Anyway, where did you say that flower was thrown?”

Legend was shocked into silence, staring at the boy as he got up from his spot at the bank and began brushing apart the rushes. “W-well, it was thrown into the brush over there…” He pointed to a large clump of cattails close to the nearby dock, and Wind started towards it, brushing around every stalk of grass. Legend peered over his shoulder, eyes scanning it with him. “You won’t find it.” He muttered, leaning in to look further. “I looked when I came out for the real thing and couldn’t find it. And even if you found it now, 25 years later it would be wilted-”

 He stopped, eyes wide in wonder, as Wind brought his mud covered and blood coated hands from the rushes, revealing a hibiscus flower with only three petals. Just like the one in Legend’s pocket. “Impossible.” He whispered as the boy stood, cupping it close. “Impossible. It's been 25 years.” Wind smiled at him, carefully placing the blossom in his pocket. “Fuck it, I’m helping you out. You seem like an alright guy, and this gal you keep talking about, well it seems like she deserves this. I’ll make you your grave.” Legend sputtered angrily, glaring at Wind with cold eyes. “No fucking way, I don’t want your fucking pity, asshole.” 

Wind raised a brow at him, putting his hands on his hips. “I’m not pitying you. I’m just helping you out, dingus.” He huffed, starting up the hill. “And I’m doing it whether you want me to or not.” Legend sighed, smacking a ghostly hand onto his face. “What about that friend, huh? The one you were waiting for?” He growled. Wind stopped, expression morphing from determination to horror to a matter of seconds. “Oh goddesses...WILD!!” He cried, turning around and scanning the hillside for his friend frantically. 

“Yeah?” A voice sounded behind them, making Wind jump back with a shriek. Wild threw up his hands, screaming “Don’t shoot!” Legend stared at his torn scarred face, the underlying exposed burnt muscle and sinew making him grimace. “You didn’t tell me that your friend is fucking dead!!” He hissed, throwing his hands on his head. Wild glanced at him for a second, turning but reattaching his eyes in a flurry. “Woah, wait, HE CAN SEE ME TOO?!” Wild screeched, spazzing out. 

Legend sighed, lifting his legs off the ground casually. “Of course I can. What would dead people do for fun? Float around or play pranks on the living like the dumb idiots they think we are? No way.” Wind groaned, slapping a hand into his face. “Wild, what happened with that thing?” Wild grinned smugly, sticking out the hand behind his back.

Wind screamed, jumping back through Legend and ending up soaking wet. “Aw, come on!” He moaned, shaking his arms as free of water as he could. Wild sniggered at him, keeping the strongest grip he could on the screaming creature in his hands, which jerked and snarled with a ferocity like which Wind had never seen. Legend hissed, snatching the creature away by the head and chucking it into the lake. “NICKI MIMINOGUE!!!” Wild cries, racing past the two to get to the water's edge. “Bokoblins.” Legend sniffed, staring after the frantic ghost. “Nasty, annoying little demon buggers.”

Wind stiffened, wide eyes catching Legend’s stormy blues. “D- demons?” His voice quivered and shook, the same jerky movement copied by his hands. “Yeah. They come out of whatever hell hole they are born from and attack whoever they are ordered to. I don’t know their boss, I just know what they are. You do know about the other spirit entities besides ghosts right?” Wind struggles for an answer, hands balled into fists at his side. “Yes, but- demon.” He whispered, feeling the flower in his pocket and the charm around his neck, reminding himself of his promises. Taking a deep breath, he turned around.

“Come on Wild! We have something to do.” He called back to the lake, catching the ghost’s attention. Wild sniffled, standing up from the bank and trotting beside them. “Don’t you have class? And how the hell are you floating?” Legend raised a brow at him, kicking his feet in the air and putting his hands behind his head. “Comes with the years I guess.” He smirked at the other ghost’s wide eyed expression. Wind laughed. “And to answer your question, fuck class. I can afford to skip a day. Now, Legend, where’s your body buried?”

They stood in the cemetery of Kakariko church, staring down at the grave of Link Chavez. “Wow.” Wild whispered as the breeze ripples through the yard, sending waves through Wind’s hair. “1994, huh? What was it like growing up?” Legend smiled softly. “Oh, ya know what they say about the magical 80s. It was totally rad.” For a moment, light shone through those stormy eyes, a flint of a dream, a spark of memory. Then the clouds returned and the skies darkened, and all that was happy was once again lost to the ages. “Let’s just...find a rock, or something, okay? Something that’ll work as a headstone.” Wind sighed, taking the left part of the cemetery to look.

The breeze shifted, a gentle gale that tousled his shirt. Soft ringing music sounded from the chimes that hung from the small shack attached to the back of the church, multicolored metals shining dully in the overcast light. Attached to the shack, however, was a rock garden, a gathering of painted and plain stones. Wind checked left and right, dashing over to the garden and picking through the rocks. The painted ones showed pictures of four different boys, each wearing a different color under a hospital gown. Some showed them with an old man, some showed the old man by himself. But they already had markings, so Wind ignored them, ignored that as he moved on the people on the rocks grew less in numbers and greater in sadness, until the last painted one showed the boy in green alone, a shadow cloaking his eyes and tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“Try this one.”

Wind jumped at the tired voice next to his ear, breathing heavy and heart a thunderous roar. And old man stood next to him, smile kind and back hunched over his knobbly cane. Four different colored stones hung off the top, each with a different design. He held a smooth flat stone in his hand, and a bucket of black paint and a small brush sat at his side. “T-thanks…” Wind hesitantly took the rock from from him, grabbing the paint as well when the man gestured to it. “Never forget those close to you. Give them what they deserve, for it speaks the words you were never able to say.” Wind nodded, and bolted away. He turned back at the top of the hill, watching a moment too long as the man stopped over and began fixing the rocks, lingering on the one of the four smiling boys. 

A shudder wracked his body. He was being watched, and he knew it. But the old man was busy with his garden, and Legend and Wild were on the other side of the graveyard. Slowly, Wind drew his eyes up to the large stained glass window of the church, and his face drained when he caught sight of a man with Snow White hair. He wore normal priest clothes, and his eyes were shut, yet still on him at the same time. Not wanting to stay a second longer, Wind turned and raced towards Link Chavez’s grave.

“Legend! Wild!” He called, holding the rock aloft. Two heads peeked out from behind two stones, one floating and one running over. “Didja find one?” Wild asked, staring at the objects in Wind’s hands. He nodded, setting them down and readying the brush, dipping it in the bucket. “So, um, what do you want it to say?” He asked. Legend hesitated. 

“M”

“A”

“R”

“I”

“N”

Wind paused. “Ma-”

“Don’t say it. That’s something that’s mine.” Legend hissed, silencing Wind with a cold glare before relaxing. Wind shut his jaw with a snap, keeping quiet a moment longer before asking Legend if he wanted anything more, to which he replied no. Placing the headstone next to his, Wind stepped back, joining the ranks of those simply staring at the spectacle. Legend landed his feet on the ground and stepped forward, kneeling.

“I hope this is enough. I cannot begin to express my sorrow, my anger, my regret.” He smiled. “I also cannot begin to describe what you did to me. Your smile was the brightest of sunny days, your laugh like a thousand angels singing the most beautiful song. When you were near I felt as though my soul were aflame, and my heart beat as if I could fly. With you at my side I could have taken on the world, the oceans would have parted, just for you and me, us, as a two. I know the stars would have built a spaceship just for us, flown all the way to the moon. And now that you’re gone…I can’t live, even in death. I can barely exist. I’m sorry, and I hope that someday wherever you are you are, you can give me the forgiveness I don’t deserve.” 

Legend stood, and for the first time, Wind saw him. He saw the pain hidden in those blue eyes, a deep abyss of confusion, not knowing which way was up or if learning left or right mattered anymore. The canyon he had fallen into filled, rising higher and higher until it was an ocean, and he was stuck, stranded on a sea of memories, so desperately searching for the land of dreams. For behind the walls he wore was a shell, which the darkness had stripped of happiness and anger and fear and left only an aching loneliness behind, an empty abyss, before filling and sending him up, up, up, to the waters he so strongly feared. Though he had grown used to the bleak of the canyon, no one could get used to and much less understand the thundering desolation. “I guess I’ll head back to my lake.” The ghost said. “Thank you for your help. If I can repay you...please let me know.” 

And with those words hanging like stars in the night sky, he started to slip away. And for reasons beyond him, Wind didn’t want to let him go. “Wait!” He called against the council of his judgement, glancing once at Wild’s confused expression, sucking in a breath of air and continuing. “You could...come with us. Ya know, not be down at the lake for the rest of eternity, um, find a way to repay your debt?” Legend stared at him, face shifting from anger to confusion before settling on a half hidden gratitude. “Yes. Yes, I think I’d like that very much.”

A thousand years and a hundred miles away, a heartbeat shook the desolate ocean.