It’s time.
“Ash,” he says gently, laying a hand over the back of Ashton’s neck where there’s no fresh ink to turn the touch painful, “sweetheart, I think we’re done here.”
Link can feel Ashton shudder slightly beneath his hand, and while he can’t help but wonder if it’s a reaction to his touch rather than the anxiety of facing the music, he doesn’t ask. Instead, he offers Ashton a hand up, immediately needing to swallow down his own panic when he registers the nervous expression on Ashton’s face, the way Ashton’s eyes stare back at him pleadingly.
Internally, Link reminds himself over and over that Ashton’s trauma has nothing to do with the things they’re building together. That whatever Ashton is feeling right now, inthismoment, is his to go through. It isn’t a reflection on Link, or even his work. Well—not yet, anyway. He hasn’tseen it.
Forcing himself to slap on a bright smile and refusing to let himself be mired in his own bullshit, Link moves his hand to the small of Ashton’s back and gets them moving. Gently but firmly, he guides his friend toward the mirror set-up at the back of the room.
“Let’s do this,” he enthuses.
“Wait,” Ashton blurts out suddenly, stopping dead in his tracks with a hand raised. “Can you just… ” He trails off, glancing around before reaching over to grab Link's wrist, maneuvering it so that Link's hand is covering his eyes. “There,” he says, sounding terribly relieved. “I think—it’ll be easier for me this way. I’m not entirely sure that I can force myself to step in front of those mirrors while looking into my own eyes.”
“Hey, have a little faith in me,” Link replies lightly. He’s mostly joking, but Ashton immediately stops walking again and ducks away from the hand he just molded to his face. Blinking into the light, Ashton cups Link's cheek and yanks him in for a kiss, which is wholly unexpected but not remotely unwelcome.
“It is notyouthat I lack faith in,” Ashton says fiercely, holding unflinching eye contact after they separate. He stares expectantly until something clicks and Link nods his understanding. “It never has been,” he adds.
“Yeah, alright,” Link says. “‘Course, sunshine. Don’t worry about me.”
“I love worrying about you,” Ashton says, before nodding in return and squeezing Link's hand against his side. It’s an affirmation, and one that releases the vice currently squeezing Link's heart. Something in his face must relax in kind because Ashton smiles warmly and then replaces Link's hand—the one he’s currently holding—over his eyes.
“Lead on, cowboy.”
In front of the mirror, it’s Link's turn to hesitate. Not the greatest look after all that, but thisisa lot for him, too, considering what’s at stake. Also, Ashton can’t exactly see him, so he figures it’s a victimless crime. Link takes a brief moment to suck in a ragged breath, hold, and release the lungful completely before removing his human-blindfold hands and stepping to the side.
Once free, Ashton’s eyes find him immediately in the mirror, and Link nods in what he hopes is an encouraging manner. At the very least and if nothing else, Ashton smiles back.
He starts to focus and Link steels his nerves, but before the reveal can progress, before Ashton’s eyes can even really find the design on his back in the mirror, the Soul-arium’s main door creaks open rather ominously. The sound echoes, bouncing off of the walls framing the cavernous atrium and reverberating throughout the library. It draws both of their attention immediately, and they exchange a concerned glance.
What the hell,Link thinks, irritated. He went to such major lengths to keep this from happening, and here they are, anyway.
“Maybe it’s just Sam,” he murmurs softly to Ashton, but his eyes are focused on the iron stairwell. Something doesn’t feel right.
ItisSam. Distantly, Link can make out his sister’s voice, muffled by both the height and the grating of the door in its frame. Link frowns. It’s hard to tell, but it seems as if Sam is conversing with someone just outside the entrance, someone who is trying (maybe a little too hard) to come in. As poor as Sam’s timing might be, she’s not the issue.Thatinterruption would have been minor—Sam’s sensitive. She would’ve popped in, said ‘hey,’ and then bounced to give them space the very second she realized it was go-time. Entertaining strangers, though? Not on Link's agenda.
But Samisn’tcoming in, and Link knows his sister well. He can recognize most emotions in her voice without even trying, and right now, Sam isangry.
Concerned, Link strains his neck trying to hear, but all he manages to catch are scattered word fragments and Sam’s frustrated, heated tone. On instinct, he glances over at Ashton again, finding him already looking back, frozen and with worry written all over his face.
“Go,” Ashton says, without flinching. “I’m just going to find a shirt and I’ll be right behind you. Maybe a weapon, as well,” he mutters, patting his pockets and looking around.
Link barely waits for the end of Ashton’s sentence before bolting from the room. He’s not especially proud of that particular, instinctive reaction, and he’ll definitely apologize for it later, but in his defense, Sam’s been his ride-or-die since the day she was born. With an oft-absent mom and a drill sergeant wielding a high-powered needle for a dad, Sam neededsomebodyto look out for her the way a parent’s supposed to.
Everything that came after—the kid becoming Link's best friend, her growing up thinking the sun shined out of his ass, Sam turning into an adult and thebaddestchick on the block, capable of basicallyshovingLink into pursuing his every dream to fruition—that stuff’s all just fuckin’ bonus material. He is, first and foremost, the guy who stands between Sam and harm’s way. And sure,technicallySam doesn’t need her big bro to chase away bullies on the playground anymore, but old habits die hard.
Bolting across the atrium, Link scales the steps leading to the exterior door two at a time. He knows Sam’s still at the top, can hear her arguing, but she must be standing on the other side of the cracked door, out of view. Link makes it just over halfway there before Sam comes stumbling back through the opening, tripping over her feet and sending the door swinging wide. She can’t quite regain her balance, body crashing full-force into the iron balustrade, which wobbles more than Link would like for the only thing that’s standing between his sister and a two-story fall.
Sam yelps as the railing connects with her flank, letting out a grunt as she doubles over. The rough impact shows on her face, but at least she wasn’t pushed hard enough for the momentum to send her tumbling headfirst over the edge.
Alright,now Link's pissed.
“Sam!” he shouts fearfully, immediately regretting both revealing his positionandshowing his emotional cards to whoever’s trying to invade their home, but it is what it is. His ingrained need to protect his sister isn’t something that he can just override, and definitely not likethis.
Everything happens so fast, it’s confusing. Link glances between the open door and Sam, his heart beating a mile a minute and his chest tight with fear. Thankfully, while Sam winces as she uses the railing to straighten up, she waves away Link's concern, signaling that she’s fine.
“What thefu—”
For better or worse, Link doesn’t have the chance to finish his curse before thelastperson that heeverexpected to see come through the doors to the Soul-arium saunters across the threshold like he freaking owns the place.
