a little g.anlink blurb
its just that last g.anlink thing i screenshotted a little while ago
“I’m leaving.”
The world seemed to grind to a halt around Link. The idly spinning air, the hum of the fridge, the battering of his heart, the blood in his veins, all seemed to sputter to a stop, die down to silence, freeze and still and hang heavy in the air as Ganon’s gaze burned into Link’s, foul and tight and cold. This was not real. It could not be real.
And then Ganon moved. And everything came whirring back to cold, reanimated life. It was silent. His ears were numb. His chest felt like a vice, ribs clenching around his heart, squeezing the air from his lungs, stealing the power from all his muscles. To turn around, to stumble after him as he stalked into the hallway seemed to take an eternity and a half. He reached feebly for him, hands small, pale, weak, thin fingers trembling despite the terrible heat of all of this.
“Please.” His voice was soft, shattered, blasted into a billion infinitesimal shards of sorrow, tight and sputtering in his throat. Just this had left him breathless. Ganon ignored him easily. He finally caught up to him, watched him shove clothes into a duffle bag with such an intensity it seemed easy to Link to imagine it was him he really wished to crush in those deadly fingers.
“D-- Don’t. Please.” It was awful to hear himself, to hear the mournful pleading in his voice, feel the blistering desperation coursing through him, burning at his skin, tearing careful claws through the weakest parts of him, of his heart. “Please. Please.” Ganon let him touch him, let him dig his deplorable fingers into the hot, horrible brown skin of his forearm, let him flinch away at the flex of the thick, ropey muscle beneath. His hand curled in his shirt, held the fabric in a shivering palm, crushed by trembling fingers. “Don’t-- I love you. I love you. I love you so much, please. Please. Don’t—”
Link couldn't keep up, couldn’t do anything but cling to him as he collected his things, shoved them messily into his bag. His face was tight, tension caught up in all the worst places on him, but there was little more than that. He held his fury in his body, in the high, tautness of his shoulders, in the crackling power threatening to explode from him with every motion, every step, every turn.
“I’ll d— I’ll do anything, I promise, whatever you want, just don’t— Please, Ganon, don’t—.” He was panting now, made breathless by the sheer agony in his chest. There was no air in his lungs, no air anywhere in the room, anywhere in the world, no matter how many mouthfuls he gulped down. His head was dizzy. His grip was weak, so weak.
“Anything.” Ganon’s voice was cruel, laced with poison and full of hate. “Anything. You’ll do anything? Bring her back.” It pushed the warmth, the heat, the vitality from Link’s blood, tore a dagger through his frail heart. “Bring back the daughter you murdered. Bring her back to me. Give me back the child you stole from me, and then I’ll stay.”
Link trembled at his words, his breath dying in his throat and hot, sickening guilt overcoming him, filling his stomach with fetid, rotting things. The tears collected in his eyes fell, rolled easily and pathetically down the curve of his cheeks, ran together and collected at his shivering, wrinkled chin. He watched Ganon turn, sheer, crushing anger wafting from him like heat from an iron; move to sift through the bottles and pens and papers on their dresser. His breath came in gasps, high and tight and terrified as he reached feebly for him, his rock, his lifeline, his Ganon, again.
“I’m sorry.” They were choked out through a sob, through the fat heavy rotten tears staining his cheeks, wetting the front of his shirt, stealing his voice from his very throat, clawing monstrously at the very spark within his heart. “I’m sorry. Please. Please. Please, Ganon, I’m— I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I didn’t— I didn’t mean to, you have t— You— I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry! I’ll g-give you another one, I promise! I’ll— We can— We can have a daughter. I’ll keep her safe, I’ll have her, sh— She’ll be perfect. She’ll be perfect. She’ll be yours. Please, just don’t— Don’t! Please! Ganon—”
His silence was deafening. The boiling panic rising his his throat only burned hotter as Ganon left their bedroom, his bedroom, as it now seemed. He shoved shoes onto his feet, ripped his coat—the expensive, lush leather one Link had seen him in when they first met, the one that smelled like cologne and car wax and money, the one he had tucked around himself innumerably many times, the one that seemed on him like a second skin—from the closet. A newfound strength in Link let him wrap cold, bony fingers around Ganon’s arm, let him sink his desperate nails into his murderous arm.
“Don’t! Don’t. Don’t, please. Please, please, God, don’t! Ganon— Please, I’m s—”
“Get your fucking hands off of me!”
Link was thrown back, some force kicking him in the chest hard enough to steal his very breath from his lungs. Sheer, visceral power rolled off his very form, made Link’s knees buckle in terror, let him crumble pathetically at Ganon’s feet, loud, terrified sobs choked from his gaping mouth, filling the room to bursting with wretched sorrow, deaf yet to Ganon’s ears. His gaze was venom, the same golden things that had once held so much love, so much affection, so much desire for him now bleeding only cold, bloody hatred, hard and hollow and as painful as any strike he could have given him. Link’s tears became tight, softened and fatigued and desperate, so terribly, breathlessly desperate he could scarcely think.
“Please don’t leave.” He was too weak to stand. He fought to keep himself there, to keep his head above the water that was so quickly coming to overtake him. “Please don’t leave. Pl—” The heaviness in his chest, perched and concentrated right on his breastbone, right over his heart, crushed his ribs in its grip, strangled the words in his mouth. He could barely work down even half a mouthful of air. He was certain he was dying. Something had died inside him already. “Please. Please. Don’t. Don’t— Don’t leave me. Please. Please.”
Link just missed the soft metallic jangle of his keys, the scrape as he turned the lock, opened the door. His chest heaved greatly, sucked down a huge lungful of air, let him curl in further, forehead nearly touching the ground, tears flowing together to drip from his nose and pool on the hardwood.
“Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Pl—.”
The door slammed shut. Suddenly, inexplicably, the house felt a dozen degrees colder, a thousand times bigger, a million times heavier. The only warm thing inside it was not so, was already cooling, was already rotting. The only warm thing inside was left, left kneeling, left with pathetic, deplorable sobs tearing from its horrid throat, left echoing in its own ears. The only thing within was without; the only thing within was alone.