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The sun had just settled upon the horizon, the sky dappled in darkening orange swathes, as Wild rushed through the door, the bell ting-tinging their arrival. The door frame shuddered as they slammed the door behind themself, and it was enough to shock Hyrule awake from where he was dozing off at the dinky wooden counter.
“Whuh–” He mumbled, rubbing the heel of his hand into his eye as he rose from his seat, eyebrows creasing together as he stared at Wild in confusion before his eyes caught on the night slowly creeping over the sky. A resigned, creeping chill slinked up his spine. He met Wild’s eyes for but a moment before they took off, both fluttering around the trinket shop Hyrule ran for his friend’s uncle in a contained, well-practiced frenzy. Wild reached up on their tiptoes to tip a small clay pot off the shelf by the door so it’d fall into their hands, where they retrieved the keys and locked the door tight, kicking the welcome mat to stuff the crack below the door and then darting off to do the same to the back door. Hyrule pulled the checkered shades closed over all the windows, only stopping to peek outside at the quickly arriving nightfall before flicking the porchlight off. The pines swayed slowly in the darkness, blackened caps creating pointed spires along the sky.
He yanked the shades closed.
There was silence for a moment, only the creaking of old wood accompanying him before Wild stepped back into the main showroom, heaving a sigh as they pushed their long hair over their shoulder so it’d hang against their back, clearly coming down from the rushed panic of locking up the store. They stepped towards Hyrule, leaning forward to wrap their arms around a lanky waist in a comfortable embrace, their head tucked under Rule’s chin. Hyrule hugged them back, running his hands through the long, soft locks soothingly.
“What are you doing here, Wild? I thought Twilight didn’t like you out near sundown?” He asked, blinking down at them with wide, hazel eyes.
Wild shrugged, pulling away from the hug to link their pinkies together.
“You weren’t texting back, so I ran down to see if you’d closed up shop or not.”
Hyrule flushed sheepishly, clumsily fishing his phone out of his pocket and pressing his thumb on the side button. The screen flashed on, displaying a flickering 20% battery icon and almost 30 calls and texts, with the number ever mounting. A handful from Wild, a handful more from Legend, two from Legend’s uncle inquiring if he’d locked up the merchandise, and, recently, a few evidently panicked ones from Twilight.
“S-sorry! It’s been a slow day, I totally knocked out–”
His words fell as though shot from the air as they both whipped their heads to look at the front door as a weak knock sounded against the wood. His eyes flickered down to catch Wild’s face, whose expression had fallen from pretty, pretty fondness to a fragile mask of caution. Wild’s thin fingers wrapped around his wrist as they began to tug him away and up the creaking stairs.
The knocking continued.
Legend’s uncle was as wise as he was a genuine scam artist, so Hyrule wasn’t surprised to find a couple of dusty sleeping bags tucked away in the attic of the shack, lip curling in disgust as he flicked away a spiderweb clinging to the cheap nylon. Wild lingered behind him, having pulled the attic door tightly shut–though, the wood only did so much to muffle the, now rattling-ly loud banging at the front door. A soft weeping whined its way through the oak, the voice desperate in a way that took Wild a long time to convince him was always a fucking lie.
It was a monster, a thing–everyone in town knew it. Knew them. Wild despised hearing him say their name, so, naturally, he didn’t. But when the sun began to set, the people of their town rushed home before they made their way out of the tree line, before they began banging on doors and wailing for help and chattering in Legend’s voice, Twilight’s voice, his voice, Wild’s voice.
Hyrule really hated when they used Wild’s voice.
So they had curfews. When the sun began to make her journey to the western horizon, and the sky was painted orange and pink, everyone–and he really meant everyone–hurried home, making sure to lock up as well as they could before settling in for the night.
And–and it was tiring! Fuck, Rule was so tired of having to hide like bugs beneath the floorboards for creatures who couldn’t even be original. Of having to be alone from sunset to sunrise, blasting his music from his barely functioning iPod because it was the only way to muffle the sounds of pleading and scratches at the doors. Tired of curling up in his closet when the music wasn’t enough.
His mother had sent him here when she’d decided she had never wanted him anyway, and Legend’s uncle had been happy to invite him to live with Legend and himself. And they’d become something so near to family for him, supporting him and caring for him the whole way. But sometimes he just wished she’d stuck around, so having to deal with this was, at the very least, not an everyday experience.
He knew better than to mean it, though.
Legend and his–their?--uncle meant the world to him.
Wild, whom he’d met on his first day working the cash register. Who he’d been so smitten with the moment he’d seen them fiddling with the price tag of a small wooden horse, the one who he’d sat at the edge of the lake with, and held hands with on their morning walks, and who had kissed him, hugged him, cupped his face in their gentle hands the night they’d ditched prom to drink metal capped root beers and eat sweets out of a paper bag. Who was there for him the first time the monsters used a voice he knew, and had cradled his head against their chest and wrapped their legs around his waist and tried their absolute best to muffle the world out for him. Wild, who meant everything to him.
Wild, who was currently tugging him to lay down in the resting spot they'd thrown together–the two old sleeping bags he’d found pulled to lay directly next to each other, an old quilt laid over them and a second thick blanket laying at the foot of the bags, waiting to be used.
As Hyrule fell to sit on the makeshift bed, Wild sat beside him, their thighs just barely pressed against each other. “Do you have your earphones?” They asked, tilting their head down to meet Hyrule’s eyes.
“U-uh, yeah?” He stuttered, quickly plucking the tangled gnarl of earphones out from his pocket. Wild gathered them up with narrow fingers, picking at the tangle diligently. Meanwhile, they nodded to their headphones, smiling when Rule finally leaned over them to grab them and hold them in wait. Once Wild finally pulled the wires apart, they handed them back, blushing faintly at the brush of fingers.
(Hyrule had been with Wild in many ways before this moment. That didn’t make the touch any less of a warm jolt in his stomach.)
Without a word, they both slipped their respective earphones on, opening their phones to their shared album, something they’d created for nights like this. Though they were rarely together at night–Wild’s family was exceptionally protective over their youngest, even Twilight (his friend!) was nothing if not delighted to back his father up on being insanely strict when it came to sleepovers–they’d created a joint playlist that they’d be able to listen to when the night got loud, knowing the other was listening to the very same.
But now, shuffling to lay down together, ignoring the bangs that made their hands shake and counting down through tight, hushed giggles so they’d click play at the same time, he knew it’d feel different.
Wild, lying on their side, staring at him with wide eyes and one hand resting on the quilt between them. The music was so loud it felt like it was all there was. Just the rhythm rushing through his brain and into his lungs, and the image of Wild, glossy, long hair fanned out on the fabric below them as he stared at him like he was everything to them as well.
It felt like something had raked warm, giddy claws up and down his heart.
For someone who had hesitated, overthought, stalled, his whole life, Rule didn’t hesitate to tug Wild into his arms and throw the fluffy blanket over them. He could feel Wild giggling against his chest as they curled into him as well, arms wrapped under his arms and legs hooked tightly over his hips. Wild nuzzled their face into the crook of his neck, the warmth of their breath and softness of their plush lips sending a deep shiver up his spine.
(Maybe Mr. Lon was onto something. He doesn’t think having Wild against his chest for so long was good for the heart. Definitely wasn’t for–)
Rule wrapped himself just as tightly around them, burying his nose in soft locks and placing sweat-palmed hands on a soft waist and smooth expanse of skin. The beat of music urged him eagerly in this whirlwind of touch and sound, and he rubbed a soothing, nervous thumb at the soft skin under his hand. Wild hugged him tighter and, as they often did, made the moment all the sweeter just by being there. With him. On him, all things considered.
He didn’t think he’d be able to make it through the night without the warmth of them against him after this experience. Maybe he could convince Mr. Lon that he was just after the comfort of a friend, or that he just preferred to chill in rooms that weren’t his and were coincidentally that of one of his kids. And, also coincidentally, the one he’d gone to prom with and spent the majority of the daylight hours with. And the one Mr.Lon himself had caught him canoodling with in his orchard’s stable. But the Lon’s family–minus Mrs. Lon, she was an angel–protective dislike for him could be handled somehow. Possibly with snacks. Or money. Or begging–
His thoughts stuttered to a halt, or crashed, or exploded, he didn’t really know how to describe the catastrophic termination of his literal mind when he felt Wild press a soft kiss to the curve where his throat met his jaw. Thank god for eardrum-bursting music, because he was sure whatever sound left his throat sounded just as strangled as it felt.
And as he rolled over to hover over his long-haired, giggling, moon-lit companion, hands pressed by either side of their head as he looked down at him with blown eyes, he believed the night could have something good to offer him after all.