Work Text:
Mipha's first mistake was checking Sheikahgram.
Although, to be more accurate, it was actually her second mistake. She wouldn't find out about the first one for a couple weeks, however, so in her mind that day—and for so many subsequent ones—logging onto social media was her first.
As she unlocked her phone, she justified it to herself as a necessity born of boredom. Link was late to rehearsal, after all, and she'd already done her warm-ups, so she needed something to do to occupy her mind and stave off both the aforementioned boredom and her burgeoning annoyance at his tardiness.
Worry tempered her annoyance, though, because this just wasn't like him. Link was fond of sleeping in, yes, but he always set plenty of alarms, as he was aware of his tendency to be a deep sleeper, and was an incredibly dedicated and disciplined person who tended to show up on time unless something out of his control happened. So what was wrong today?
Perhaps just some unfortunate setbacks at home. Or traffic, though he didn't live that far from the troupe's studio. Not that that would prevent some sort of accident from blocking his way, of course, as they could happen literally anywhere.
She could only pray to Lord Jabu-Jabu that her beloved friend and dance partner hadn't been caught up in one himself.
Shaking off her worry as best she could, she opened up the accursed app with a sigh. It was all too easy to get caught up in browsing an endless feed, which was why she usually avoided logging in unless she was waiting for an appointment or something similar. Maybe it was what she needed right now, though, to distract herself from worries over Link.
From all manner of other thoughts about Link.
Cheeks heating up, she tapped the screen to go to her feed and begin scrolling through. In a marked difference from her usual experience with this app, it didn’t take long to find something that brought a smile to her face and a flutter to her heart. Zelda, the company’s photographer and social media manager, had uploaded a pair of pictures of her and Link, dressed in their costumes for Satori Lake. One was from a couple seasons ago, the other a preview of the upcoming run, as a sort of “throwback” comparison. Accompanied by her usual bubbly caption, of course. Mipha couldn’t help but smile wistfully and tap the like button, admiring Revali’s costumes and Link’s… Linkness, for lack of a better word, both against her will for different reasons.
With Revali, it was because his skill was undeniable, and so was the obnoxiousness of his personality. She couldn’t stand to be in the same room with him, but his work was always as impeccable as his tongue was sharp.
And as for Link, well… she simply didn’t want to feel this way. Didn’t want to be in love with her childhood friend and trusted partner. They were often paired with other people for various productions, of course, but their popularity as a team meant they were most often cast as the romantic leads in various ballets. Which audiences just adored.
As did she.
They were professionals, of course, and capable of getting excellent results even when partnered with others. But there was just something… different about getting to dance with him, even when things were frustrating and difficult. Special. Because when things were going smoothly, when they lost themselves in the dance and their roles, it was possible—even if only for fleeting moments—to pretend that it was all real. To let go of her fears and insecurities, her knowledge that he would never, ever see her that way, and be someone else. Someone he loved.
The way she loved him.
They had mimed the words to each other countless times, in so many different shows. It should have made it easier. Instead, it only made her heart ache a little more each time, that he could never know that she truly meant it, that he would never whisper it in her ear backstage, for real. Sometimes when they hugged each other after a successful show, or their dinner last night, it felt like he might. But then reality came crashing in from the rafters, and she had to let go of her illusions.
After all, that was all they ever would be. Smoke and mirrors and clever makeup, a trick of the stage lights.
Shaking herself out of her gloom, she tapped the comments icon. It was always a little nerve-wracking, embarrassing even, to see what others were saying about her and her fellow dancers, and maybe she really shouldn’t have made a habit of looking at them sometimes. But she was bored, and worried, and needed a distraction. Plus, maybe they’d just be about Revali’s costume work or memories of the previous run of Satori Lake.
And most of them were. At first glance, that seemed to be all they were—the grand majority of people sharing their memories of attending those past performances with family and friends, even on dates, and how special the evening had been for them. It lulled her into a false sense of security, so she kept scrolling.
“AHHHH OMG they’re gonna be the leads again?!?!?! I HAVE TO GO!!! They’re so cute together I SWEAR they must be a couple in real life too!!!”
Mipha’s heart jolted; pulse racing, she scrolled down to see if other people had replied to that excitable person, praying that everyone had ignored them.
They hadn’t.
“Oooooh, yeah!!! I think you’re right, there’s no way they have that much chemistry on stage and aren’t getting frisky behind it, if you know what I mean! ;D ;D ;D Or at least want to!”
“Wow, dirty mind much? I KID. But you two are def onto something, I think there’s something there too.”
“My best friend works at the company and she swears they’re a thing!”
“Okay, you didn’t hear this from me, but… I actually work there too, this OBVIOUSLY isn’t my real name… and they are 100% a thing. Like, honest to Nayru, I’ll eat the lighting if they’re not, what with how they’re CONSTANTLY joined at the hip and always doing stuff together, and how they look at each other when they think no one’s watching. It’s so adorable, I wish I could show you guys proof! Maybe I’ll record something later!”
There were several replies to that last one, begging the poster to do it, but Mipha had seen enough. With shaky fingers and pounding heart, she closed the app and put her phone back in her bag. But for all that it was out of sight it might as well have been a glowing beacon in there, calling her attention back to what she’d just seen. She buried her face in her hands, but the images of those comments, those words, were burned into the backs of her eyelids. All that gushing, that speculation, that… that…
… oh Goddesses. They were serious. They were serious. There were actual, real rumors floating around on the internet—and probably among the crew members of this troupe—that she and Link were—were—
That they were—
That they were a couple.
An anguished groan escaped her, muffled but still so loud in the empty room, practically swinging off the barre like a child in their first ballet class. How could this be happening? How could there be rumors about the very thing she wanted most and yet could never have? What could these people possibly be seeing? Had they just been fooled by their onstage chemistry, how well they meshed together as dancers? It was possible. It was likely.
And it didn’t make it any easier to deal with.
Especially because—
—because what if Link saw it? How mortifying would that be for him? Would he talk to her about it, try to laugh it off? Worse, what if he actually did think it was funny? What a knife in the heart that would be! To have him see this post, those comments, and think it was genuinely hilarious that people believed the two of them were a couple… she wasn’t sure her heart would survive that kind of shattering. And then of course everything would be ruined, because she wouldn’t be able to hide her true pain from him, and it would all come out, and he’d be apologetic and everything would be even more awkward, and it would go on forever, and maybe she’d have to leave this company and try to find a new troupe, and—
The door swung open as she was in the middle of catastrophizing; hoping it was someone else, anyone else, even Revali, she lifted her head. Only for her heart to sink into her pointe shoes as she saw it was Link.
“Hey, sorry I’m late.” He let himself awkwardly into the room, one hand hidden behind his back and his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He’d already changed into his practice clothes, his long, luscious blond locks bound up in a messy bun, and she had to restrain a sigh at the way the clothes showed off his slim yet muscular physique just as beautifully as any of his bespoke stage costumes. “Traffic was a nightmare, there’s new construction on, and there was such a long line at the store…”
“The store?” She frowned. “What were you at the store for?”
“These.” An oddly shy smile on his face, he set his bag down and then revealed what he’d been holding behind his back: a bouquet of sweetly fragrant violets. “For you.”
“M-me?” Panic rose, almost choking her. He’d brought her flowers? That anyone walking by in the studio would have seen him carrying? Towards his private rehearsal with her? Oh, Jabu give her strength… this would only fuel the flames of those rumors, and make it more awkward and awful for both of them. He clearly hadn’t seen the post yet, but when he did… “Y-you, you didn’t have to…”
“I know, but I wanted to.” He held them out to her. “Take them? Please?”
Was this what people meant when they said they were dying inside? Swallowing hard, Mipha reached out a hand she fought to keep steady and took the flowers. “Th-thank you, I… I’ll just put these over here… you should warm up, and then we can start…”
“Sure…”
She averted her eyes from him as she set the bouquet down atop her own bag, though not soon enough to miss seeing the confusion in his eyes. It gave her a pang, but she pushed it down. It was only a matter of time before the rumors reached his pointy Hylian ears, and when that happened, well…
Well.
That would be the end of so much, wouldn’t it?
Best not to think about right now, though. Instead, she took her own place at the barre to warm up again, careful not to stand too close to him or to look at him. As much as she enjoyed seeing him stretch, she had to break herself of that habit. She had to break herself of a lot of habits.
“Maybe I’ll record something later!”
The words of the commenter claiming to be a crew member pushed their way into her mind again, and she had to stop herself from shuddering with horror. Was there really someone here, watching them, thinking they were together, wanting to covertly film them doing… something? Were they the only one? That post had been dated barely an hour ago, so… whatever they intended to film hadn’t been done yet.
If Mipha had anything to say about it, it wouldn’t get filmed at all, because she wouldn’t let them have any fodder for their rumors.
It would hurt, of course. Distancing herself from Link would be the most painful thing she could think of. Emotionally, anyway. But she could, and would, do it, if it meant sparing them both even more pain and humiliation. These rumors had to stop. They just had to.
Her gaze remained averted from his face as much as possible as they practiced the steps of their pas de deux, the pivotal one in which their characters fell in love. Such a twisted irony, to be playing at that at a time like this. But then, that was what had gotten them into this mess, wasn't it? Their onstage chemistry as they portrayed various couples in front of the eyes of so many who came to see them perform. And now, because of that, things were about to be ruined. They'd been with this company for a handful of years, starting when they were still in high school, and in the last couple or so had begun to find stunning success as a popular pair.
Ironic.
That success was now going to be its own source of destruction.
More than once she saw Link frown as they went through the motions, looking like he wanted to ask her something but didn't quite have the nerve, or the breath. He tried at one point, but she brushed him off by saying she needed to concentrate on the steps. He dropped it, but she knew there'd be more questioning later. What she needed was time and space to think about what to say when it happened.
To that end, she practically ran from him when their session was over, not even stopping for a cooldown. "I have to go get fitted," she mumbled, shoving the violets into her bag. "I'm already late because you were not on time."
"I... I'm sorry about that, I..." Making the mistake of glancing at him, she saw a hurt, stricken look on his face. He was sweaty and flushed after practice, which always... did things to her, but not today. Not when he looked upset like this, not when she knew what was coming as soon as he looked at Zelda's post. He always left a kind comment on there, so he was bound to see the other replies. "Mipha, are... is everything okay?"
"I'm fine," she said, not for the first time that day and certainly not the last, either. Oh, Jabu, what if he left those comments because he had a thing for Zelda? "I just... I have to go."
She turned her back on him—just as he seemingly started towards her—and fled.
Praying he didn't see the tears in her eyes.
“Ugh, Link, hold still! Stop looking at your damn phone!”
“Sorry…”
He turned his phone over, letting it rest on his thigh as Impa—his slightly grouchy but genius make-up artist—took hold of his chin and forcefully moved his face up. His own reflection, half-made up and with perfectly styled hair, greeted his gaze; he glanced away almost immediately. Fortunately, Impa didn’t notice anything, still humming to herself as she returned to the task of getting him all “dolled up”, as she put it, for the coming dress rehearsal. Nor did she notice the pain in his eyes, the way his fingers twitched near the phone, as if he wanted to pick it back up and start looking at it again.
Not that it would do any good. The opposite, in fact, and he silently cursed himself for torturing himself with it like this. That post had been made almost three weeks ago, why did he keep looking at it? Why did he keep rereading all those comments, reminding himself of everything that had gone wrong and driving the knife further into his own heart? Was he hoping for something to change? For the courage to leave a comment of his own, correcting everyone’s gleeful assumptions? Or was he really that much of a glutton for punishment?
Honestly, he was starting to think that he had to be. He’d certainly called himself that, and worse, over the past couple weeks or so. Ever since the day that everything had come crashing down around him.
It’d all been going so well, too. Or at least he’d thought it had. He’d finally gotten up the courage to ask Mipha out after years of pining for her, and she’d accepted. They’d gone out to a fancy sushi place and eaten their fill, laughing and sharing memories and hopes and dreams, and he’d walked her back to her door afterwards. They hadn’t kissed, but they’d shared a nice long hug, and as he’d bid her goodnight he’d remembered—like the idiot he apparently really was—that he hadn’t brought her flowers. Oh well, he’d figured. She hadn’t seemed to notice the lack of them when he picked her up, so he’d get some on the way to practice the next day. She was sweet enough to forgive him easily, and would most likely lightheartedly tease him. He wouldn’t hear the end of it, but that was okay—the important thing was Mipha’s happiness.
So he’d done just that the next day: stopped in at a shop to buy some violets, her favorite flower. And he’d expected—hoped—to see her eyes light up when he presented them, despite that the stop and the traffic had made him late.
Instead her face had fallen, as if he’d done something wrong. Worse, she’d unceremoniously shoved them into her bag as she all but fled, after an awkward practice session where she’d barely spoken to him, barely looked at him. Gone was the happy, bubbly Zora who’d wiped roe off his cheek with her bare hand and giggled, who’d insisted on holding the door open for him on their way out because it was only fair. Who’d always, always been so happy to see him every day, ever since they were children, and adored spending time with him. In her place was a near-stranger, who couldn’t seem to stand the sight of him and who couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
He hadn’t understood why until he’d taken out his phone over a lunch he wasn’t really touching, and opened up Sheikahgram. Another of Zelda’s posts awaited him there, comparing him and Mipha from a couple seasons ago to their current promo pics for this latest run of Satori Lake. His heart twinging with fresh pain, he’d opened up the comments to see what people were saying.
And suddenly Mipha’s strange behavior made far too much sense.
“Imagine dancing that pas de deux with your crush.”
“Aren’t they dating?”
“Aren’t they a couple?”
“Wait, I thought they were married!”
That had been the top comment and its replies, but it was far from the only one speculating on the status of their relationship. Heart pounding, stomach churning, he’d read several more—he lost count by the end—and then checked the likes.
Sure enough, Mipha had liked the post.
After that confirmation, it was easy even for a dumbass like him to put two and two together. She’d gotten bored waiting for him, starting scrolling Sheikahgram, liked the post, and then dove into the comments to occupy herself a little more. She’d then seen the comments talking about their relationship, and… had been horrified by it. Either she hadn’t realized their dinner had been a date, or she had, and was mortified that people thought they were a couple. Was ashamed to be seen with him, to be with him. Whatever it was, it’d sent her running, resulting in that horrible, awkward—horribly awkward—practice.
Things had only gotten worse from there ever since. They were barely speaking now, and couldn’t look at each other either. Her clear rejection of him was like a spear to the heart; he didn’t think anything had ever hurt so much. But he couldn’t hate her, couldn’t resent her. Why would she want to be with someone like him, after all? And he didn’t want to push her to talk about it, either. She needed her space, obviously, and it’d be shitty of him not to give that to her. So he backed away too, respecting her need for distance while silently suffering, and praying that things would someday go back to… well, something like normal. It never really could be, but if they could at least salvage their life-long friendship, that would be enough. He didn’t want to give up on having her in his life, no matter what form it took.
Even if it increasingly looked like he’d lost her forever through his own stupid actions.
If only, he found himself thinking so often. If only he’d never asked her out. If only he’d never made it clear that he felt so much more for her besides friendship, that he loved her romantically too. If only he’d kept his mouth shut and tried again to find someone else instead. There were certainly plenty of adoring fans who, for some reason, were intensely interested in him and keen to show it, in a bid to gain his attentions. Some of the people working for the troupe were like that too, and he’d considered trying to go out with one of them. But he hadn’t, because he’d known it wouldn’t have worked, and would’ve just wasted everyone’s time.
Because his eyes—and heart—had always been only for Mipha.
And now he’d blown his chance with her.
Forever.
Oh, Goddesses, it hurt. It hurt. Like someone had ripped his beating heart right out of his chest and stomped on it in front of him. Mipha’s face swam into his mind’s eye, and the lump in his throat grew bigger, more painful; his eyes burned, and his breath caught, and he felt that awful pressure building in his head, and if he didn’t stop thinking about this he was going to cry again, and—
“Hey!” Impa slapped him lightly on the chest. “Link! Chill out, okay? I know you’re nervous about opening night and all that, but keep it together and do not ruin my hard work, okay?”
“I…” He blinked rapidly, fighting to banish the growing tears. “I’m sorry, I—I’m sorry. Tonight’s not even opening night, but…”
“I know, I know, but these dress rehearsal things are still nerve-wracking, right?” She leaned closer, peering at him. “Anything you want to talk about? Just to let it all out?”
Certainly not about him and Mipha. That would, despite her insistence that she found her annoying, make it to the ears of Impa’s sister Purah, who worked the technical side of things alongside her friends Robbie and Jerrin. And they would gossip. And it would end up making it to Daruk, the boisterous head of their department, who couldn’t keep a secret if his life depended on it, especially not with that loud voice of his, the one that didn’t seem to have an indoor setting. And from there it would spread like wildfire to the entire company, humiliating Mipha all over again.
So no.
He could definitely not talk about that.
Link shook his head. “Nothing, just… you know how it is, right?” He gave a weak laugh, one that turned into a sniffle. “No matter how many times you do something, you still worry that you’re gonna fuck it up somehow…”
“I mean, I guess?” Impa shrugged. “It’s easier for me to wipe stuff off your face, though, than it is for you to fix a misstep, though, seems like.”
A misstep. Yeah. How many of those had he made recently? Too many, it felt like. “Yeah, true.” He swallowed. “I just… I hope it’ll be fine.”
“It will.” She gave him an encouraging grin. “You’re gonna knock them dead like you always do. And tonight’s just practice for the real thing, anyway. So go show them why you’re the star!”
Right now he felt more like—like a black hole or something, whatever the opposite of a star was, but he nodded mutely anyway and headed off, remembering only when he got to his dressing room door that he needed to thank her for her hard work and encouragement. He mumbled something that she understood and accepted, and then trudged his way to the stage.
As he took his place among the assembled cast and crew, feeling like every set of eyes—except Mipha’s, for she strangely wasn’t there yet—he tried to pretend that he hadn’t spoken falsely to Impa. That stage fright really was the reason his stomach was in knots, that his heart wouldn’t stop racing, that he just wanted to run home and curl up in bed and cry his eyes out again without anyone knowing.
That he hadn’t irreparably fucked things up with the person he cared about most.
The lie was put to the test within what felt like only a few minutes, however, when Mipha came darting in, apologizing for being late and looking as heart-stoppingly beautiful as she always did. Watching her from the corner of his eye while pretending to look elsewhere, he saw her smile and accept compliments from others on her way to the stage, and then—visibly droop when she caught sight of him, becoming as subdued as he’d seen her be ever since that awful day. Her own eyes seemed to widen slightly as she looked at him, but then she averted them, looking at the floor instead. His heart cracked.
But it didn’t have time to shatter before an exasperated sigh rang out, drawing everyone’s attention to a shadow-draped figure waiting in the wings. “Right, I’ve had it.” Urbosa, the company’s director, stepped forward, heels clacking on the wood like the fingers she was impatiently drumming on her arms. “I’m done with this. Explain what’s going on, and make it quick.”
“What?” The gulf between him and Mipha—wider than Lake Hylia despite that they were barely a foot apart right now—temporarily forgotten, Link turned to face Urbosa with a curious frown on his face. “What are you talking about? Explain what?”
“This.” Urbosa gestured at him, at Mipha. “How much of a fool do you take me for? How much of one do you think everyone else here is? Do you really think we haven’t seen how utterly miserable you two are every time you so much as breathe the same air? I’ve put up with it longer than I should have, thinking it would clear itself up, but now that we’re on the cusp of opening night…”
“It—it is fine, really.” Mipha didn’t even look at him as she made the denial. Link could barely hold back a wince; she’d always been a bad liar, and right now was no exception. There was no way the almost eerily perceptive Urbosa would ever fall for it. “I am simply—nervous about the show, and I am sure he is too, and we are professionals, so—”
“Professionals who can’t even look at each other?” Urbosa’s sharp voice cut through Mipha’s words like a hot knife through goat butter, and Link flinched; Mipha probably did too, but he couldn’t see her expression. “If you can’t convince me during rehearsals that your characters are in love, how am I supposed to trust that you’ll convincingly convey that to the audience during the real thing? I’ve tried to be patient, but I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have. It’s too late to recast, after all, and no one coming to opening night wants to see understudies, especially not when Zelda has been promoting the hell out of you two on social media.”
“We can do it, I swear, just—” Mipha wrung her hands, still not looking at him. “Please, Urbosa, please, just trust—”
“Not without an explanation. Something is causing this strife, and normally I wouldn’t be so nosy, but the show is being negatively impacted by whatever it is, so I need to get to the bottom of it. So—”
“It is fine, I swear it, we—”
“It doesn’t look fine! It looks—”
“Isn’t it obvious?” The last—the very last—voice Link wanted to hear rang out above those of the two women; his hands curled into fists at his sides. “Our golden couple has clearly had some sort of lover’s quarrel, and now we’re all getting dragged into their drama. Which really is the only reason I care about this asinine situation.”
“Revali, just…” Link struggled to control his breathing, his tone. “You don’t know what you’re talking about…”
“Don’t I?” He raised an eyebrow, light glinting off his sharp beak. “You think I see and hear nothing, just because I’m shut up in my workshop all day? Wrong.” His eyes narrowed. “I hear everything. And what it’s all pointing to is that you two had some kind of spat, and now it’s affecting the rest of us. Which, again, is the only reason I care about this nonsense.”
“Yes, you said that already,” Link said through gritted teeth. “And I’m telling you, you’re wrong. We didn’t fight. She and I are—”
“Ha! You’re an even worse liar than she is!” There was no mirth in his cawing laugh. “Do you really think it isn’t obvious that something is wrong between you two? You must be even more stupid than I took you for… and everyone knows you’re far better suited to this job than anything that would require the use of your feeble brain.”
“Hey, now…” Daruk stepped forward now, frowning mightily. “That’s a bit too far, don’t you think? There’s no need to insult—”
“They’re the ones insulting us!” Revali flung his wing out, pointing at Link and Mipha. “Haven’t you been paying attention to those pathetic lies? They think we’re all fools and can’t see that there’s trouble in paradise, and now it’s about to ruin this season’s run of Satori Lake. Which, might I remind you, is our most popular show.”
“You’re the only one trying to insult anyone!” Pulse skyrocketing, Link started towards Revali himself. “I’m telling you, it’s not true, we didn’t fight! Mipha’s not lying, we can—”
“Do what? Ruin this season’s run? Even my brilliant costumes won’t save a performance as bad as that.” Revali tutted. “Urbosa, I know you said it’s too late to recast, but maybe one of them should sit it out? That way, everyone would only be half-disappointed, and still get to see at least one of the precious stars in action.” His eyes traveled over them, lingering on Link, but then settling on Mipha. “I suggest—”
“Me. It should be me.” Now he definitely felt like he was going to throw up. He’d already considered trying to get a position in another dance troupe after this show had run its course, but he hadn’t thought that day would come so soon. He’d thought they could at least get through this somehow. “Put someone else up there—put—”
“No, no, that won’t do at all.” Revali shook his head. “You have so many adoring fans, after all, it’d be a pity to deprive them…”
It was, Link realized, physically paining Revali to admit to his popularity. It’d always stuck in his feathered craw. But apparently he could get past that enough to do this—to try and punish Mipha for the slight he felt had been committed against him. Not because he especially disliked her—although it was true they didn’t get along—but because Link didn’t want him to. Because he was trying to protect her, and because it would hurt him to see her get sidelined. It was twisted, and it was cruel, but it had Revali’s bizarre leaps of logic painted all over it just the same.
“No,” Link managed, a red haze swarming the edges of his vision as he glared back at Revali, neither one budging in their open dislike for each other. No, not just dislike—he now hated him, for trying to hurt Mipha just to get at him. “There has to be another way, we—we can—”
The sound of a door swinging shut silenced him; it hadn’t even been that loud, but in the sudden hush it sounded like a bomb going off. Moving on instinct Link turned, sensing something off about the space just behind him.
It was empty.
Mipha had left.
“Look, I don’t know what you did.” Urbosa’s low voice roiled through the tense air like an approaching storm, and Link almost recoiled back as he met her thunderous gaze. “But you need to go fix it. Now.”
A thousand protestations rose to his lips, but he swallowed them down and nodded, knowing she wouldn’t accept any of them. Knowing she was right, and that time had run out.
That for better or worse, he had to face what he’d done.
Finding her wasn’t easy at first, given her head start. With every door he opened Link held his breath, not sure if he wanted to see her there or not. This had to be done, of course, but… he dreaded it all the same. Dreaded it, and yet wanted to get it over with. He was so afraid of what she’d say to him, but he was also desperate to see if anything could be salvaged. It was the strangest thing, to both need it done with and not want to do it, and it just made it hurt worse as he continued looking for her. Worse, he knew that when he found her, even more pain awaited them both.
I'm sorry, he wanted to say, choking on the lump in his throat and the tears he was trying to fight off. I'm so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you or make things awkward for you.
But he had. He had. He’d ruined everything for her, and now one or both of them would have to leave the company and start over fresh. And they’d probably never speak to each other again. Years upon years of friendship and partnership destroyed, all because he’d fallen in love and hadn’t had the sense to keep it to himself and get over it. He really was as stupid as Revali said, wasn’t he? Probably even more. Knowing that that jerk was right just made even more infuriating.
He’d leave. He’d decided that already, and this just confirmed his choice. The burden of finding a new job, of starting from scratch in a new company and enduring the growing pains there, that should fall to him. He was the one who’d fucked things up here, after all, and the last thing he wanted was for it to hurt her even more. He’d find her, apologize, and then head back to Urbosa and resign. They’d all be better off without him anyway, he rationalized; he wasn’t that good, and any fans he had were more interested in how he looked than how he danced, for all that he didn’t understand that either. There was no reason for Mipha to leave her friends and everything she’d worked for here, not when this was all his fault. He was the problem, and needed to be removed.
I’m sorry.
The practice room door made no noise as it swung open, yet Mipha looked over immediately as he entered. She blinked, and for the first time in weeks didn’t immediately look away from him. “Link…?”
“I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out before he could stop himself. “Did… did you need to be alone? Urbosa said…” He let the words trail off, feeling hopelessly stupid for neither the first nor last time in his life.
Stupid. It’s all stupid. Me, this, all of it. I should be leaving her alone, that’s why she left… but Urbosa only cares about the show, the show must go on and all that. She—
… no, that’s not fair. This problem is bigger than just the two of us, everyone’s jobs are relying on us having another successful season. Urbosa and Revali are right, we’re dragging everyone else down with this soap opera, we—
—no. I. This is my fault, and I have to make it right.
“I…” Mipha’s gaze darted around, to the barre, their reflections, her own feet, his—everything but his face. “I don’t know, I…” She buried her face in her hands. “Forgive me, I am just… so confused.”
“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “This is all my fault, I know… I messed up. But I promise I won’t make you put up with me anymore, I’m going to go tell Urbosa I quit, and she can have someone else take my place, I’ll get a job with some other troupe… you’ll never have to see me again, I swear, I’ll stay away from you now.”
“What?” Her hands dropped, horror joining the confusion in her eyes, and completely baffling him as well. “That—that isn’t what—why would you…”
“I know you don’t want to be around me anymore.” Now it was his turn to stare at the well-polished floor. “I’ve embarrassed you, and made you uncomfortable, and—and hurt you. And you don’t deserve that, you don’t deserve to have everything you’ve worked for disappear just because of—because of me.” His voice broke on the last word.
“What are you talking about?” She scrambled to her feet. “Link, I… I don’t understand… what…”
“The picture. Zelda’s post.” He rubbed at his stinging eyes as the tears began to slip through despite his best efforts. It would ruin Impa’s hard work, but that didn’t matter anymore, did it? Not if he was going to just go quit. “I saw it—I saw everyone talking about… about us.” His heart shriveled in his chest like fruit gone bad. “And I’m at least as stupid as Revali says, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that that’s what made you run. I…” He took a moment to breathe, trying not to let his voice shake too much. “I’m sorry… I know it’s embarrassing to be seen with me, or… whatever it is that bothered you… I wanted to apologize for this before, but I wanted to give you your space. I guess I messed that up too.”
He started to turn away, but stopped as Mipha ran after him, her shoes slapping against the floor in her haste. “Wait—no—I still don’t understand—what do you—us? What… is that…” Her breathing sounded just as unsteady as his. “What do you mean, embarrassed to be seen with you? I…” She paused, and he could practically hear the gears whirling in her head. “Is… when Revali said we’d had a lover’s quarrel, you… you didn’t question that… do you… wha…”
Her thoughts seemed to be all in a jumble, or at least her words were, but all the same something clicked in his head as he finally looked at her again. She’d never looked so startled, he didn’t think; and yet it was as if some sort of truth was dawning on her that she’d never seen before. Staring at her, the pieces of the puzzle snapped together for him too. Or at least, some of them. “Oh, shit. I…” He pressed one hand over his face, his eyes burning almost as hot as the humiliation rising in his chest, all the way to the tips of his ears. “I really messed this up, didn’t I? Even more than I thought…”
“Link, explain…” She swallowed audibly. “Please… I… make sense of this for me…”
“I thought…” He turned his head away, trying vainly to hide the tears he couldn’t hold back any longer. “I thought I did make it clear… I asked you out, and… I thought I was obvious about what it was, what it meant to me… you seemed to have so much fun that night, and I thought it was a new beginning for us… but then you acted so weird the next day, after seeing that post of hers, so I figured you’d changed your mind because… well, why wouldn’t you, after seeing that? Why would you want to be with me? But…”
“I…” He dared a glance at her, saw that her eyes were wider than ever, the light of understanding kindling in their gorgeous amber depths. Goddesses, she was so beautiful. It hurt to look at. It hurt to know he’d made such a fool of himself and ruined what they’d had. “I didn’t know that—”
“I’m an idiot, I know, so I’ll—”
“—that you felt the same way—”
“—leave, and never both—” His words and thoughts ground to a halt as what she’d said registered. “Wait… what do you mean, you… what?”
“Link, I…” She drew a shaky breath. “I thought that… when I saw that post, and what people said… that you would be embarrassed that people thought you were with me, I…”
“No.” He found himself shaking his head, feeling almost like he was looking down on this scene from afar. Did she—what was she saying, she couldn’t possibly mean that she— “No, never, I would never… I thought it was the other way around, I thought… I thought that you—that you—”
His stumbling words crashed to the floor in a heap as she flung herself at him and kissed him; he could have cried again, but didn't. Instead he pulled her closer, clinging to her as his knees went weak and his heart threatened to burst from sheer joy and relief. She felt the same—she felt the same—it was the only thought that could penetrate the blissful fog consuming his mind as they submerged themselves in this magical first kiss.
And he couldn't bear for it to end, no, he didn't want to let it end, not now that he finally had her in his arms. Not now that he knew his years-long yearning, his aching, wasn't unrequited after all. Not now that he was kissing her—that she was kissing him, and had initiated this beautiful moment.
Was this how the hero in Satori Lake felt, during that pas de deux with the heroine? Was this how everyone felt, when they finally kissed their true love? It was magic, it was something out of a fairy tale, it was everything and more. He’d wanted for so long to have this, to hold her and kiss her like this, feeling her arms around him, her soft lips pressed against his. There—there it was, that contrast in emotions again. Torn this time between disbelief that it was real, and staggering, overwhelming euphoria that it was happening.
Her eyes were bright and shimmering, as teary as his, when they finally broke for air; she touched his cheek so tenderly that he began to silently weep again, his feelings too much for his body to hold in. The mutual tears, the kiss, had ruined her makeup too, but she still looked just as lovely as ever. Just as happy as he’d never thought he’d see her be again. Never thought he could ever make her.
"Mipha, I love you," he whispered raggedly when he could finally speak, his trembling fingers finding her cheek in an equally tender touch. It felt unbelievably good to say the words aloud, after feeling them burn so painfully in his heart for so long. "I love you..."
"I love you too." Her voice cracked, some of her tears slipping out to leave trails down her pretty face. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, I didn't realize how you felt... I would never have run if I had known, I swear it..."
"I know." He breathed out harshly, his lungs still struggling to get enough air. Kissing her had left him gasping for breath as if he’d just performed two strenuous solos in a row. "I know that now, it's okay. And some of it's my fault for not making my feelings more clear, for not just talking to you about it. Let's not do this again, okay?"
"Never." She shook her head fervently. "Never again. We will always talk about things, from here on out." She kissed the corner of his mouth. "We must, in order to make this work and stay together."
"We will." Link smiled, feeling dizzy at the prospect of a long, beautiful future together with her. Together. Three amazing syllables, resonating through his still-racing heart like the tolls of a temple bell. "We always did before... this is just a weird blip, I think."
“A misstep.” Mipha took his hand and kissed his palm, the inside of his wrist. “But not a fatal one.” She gave him a watery smile. “Our show will go on.”
“Yeah.” He couldn’t help but smile back at her again, couldn’t help but laugh, the sound brimming over with the wonder filling him from head to toe. “Yeah, it will.”
