Archive of Our Own ^beta

It doesn’t matter what other people think.

Easy. Of course. It didn’t matter what other people thought of him, so why should he care? Why be nervous? Why stand there like an idiot while the others shuck their armor and undershirts to leap into the crashing waves? Warriors gripped the edge of his tunic, panic flooding his veins. 

It’s not difficult. They won’t say anything. And if they do, it doesn’t matter.

Standing around while the others laughed and played was only going to make him more obvious. So, relying on adrenaline to get him through it, he pulled off his shirt and ran into the ocean to join the others. And it was fine, because of course it was. They hadn’t been together long, but long enough that they had traded stories of scars and past battles. Wild was hardly ever uncomfortable with his scars, which were on full display as he attempted to haul Wind onto his shoulders. All of them had been marked permanently in some way. Wars had even shown off the burn scars that trailed up his arm. The scars, though, were not the problem. 

A few of the others cheered as he pushed through the waves to join them. He was almost immediately roped into a game that Wind insisted on. Being the team player he was, he allowed Four onto his shoulders so that he could go against Wind and Wild. No one said anything about his body. The sharpness of his collarbone, his hips, his ribs somewhat visible. The thoughts washed away as he focused on not being toppled by the waves, and not letting Wind knock Four off his shoulders. 

When the others were tired of their game, they came up with new ones. They tossed one another around, splashed and dove, and tried to outrun the waves. It was often too easy to forget how young they all were when taking out powerful monsters. Each of them were strong in their own way, capable of toppling great evil. Today was a rare day where they were allowed to simply be. Given the chance, they all took the opportunity to relax.

Eventually, though, their energy wore thin and they all stumbled back to shore, someone starting a fire as the others pulled out their bedrolls and fresh clothes. He hoped that it would be a quiet evening. The swirl of panic from earlier had died down to something manageable. He pulled on something clean and settled near the fire, watching Wild pull out his cookpot and start on dinner. 

It’s fine. You’re watching him make it. You trust them.

The panic slowly twisted to settle in his stomach. Would he be able to eat tonight? He had been so caught up with the day’s activities, he hadn’t even thought of food. Now, dread settled on his shoulders. Twilight sat next to Wild, helping him chop and dice ingredients for whatever wonderful meal the cook had thought up. He wasn’t sure if it was possible for Wild to make a bad meal, but his mind betrayed him all the same. Did he recognize those ingredients? How could he be certain they were safe? It didn’t matter if there were logical answers, or that his fears were irrational. His gut twisted and he resigned himself to not trying the dish tonight. 

Soon, the smell of cooking food surrounded the camp, and demands to know when dinner would be ready increased. Hyrule earned a wack from the ladle when he dared to get too close to the pot, gasping in mock hurt as he retreated slightly. 

Wars watched as the food simmered, and though he was definitely hungry, his nerves had already decided his dinner for him- if he could eat anything at all, at this point. The anxiety twisting in on itself, making his already unsettled stomach nauseous meant dinner would be a battle tonight. He searched through his bag and found the pouch he kept safe foods in for nights like this. He would definitely try to eat at least a little something- today’s activities had certainly taken their toll on his energy. His gaze swept over the camp, hoping to find a good direction to walk in so he could find somewhere to sit alone. His struggle didn’t need to be viewed by others, not to mention the questions that they would pepper him with.

Wild had finally deemed the food done and began ladling out portions to everyone. They crowded the pot with their bowls at the ready. Wars took that moment to grab his pouch and head for the tree-line, hoping the others wouldn’t question his desire to be away from the group. His mind calmed some as he moved inland, finding a tree he could sit against. He sat down and pulled the orange from his bag, running his hands over the skin, twisting it around so he could check every inch. It was safe. It was always safe. Why did he have to worry so much?

That train of thought never took him anywhere good, so he tried to drop it as he dug his thumbs into the peel, pulling back on it until he eventually had the whole orange done. He stared at it for a moment, trying to work himself up to eating a slice, thinking of the wonderful dinner that was back at camp that his fear refused to let him eat.

Something is better than nothing.

He popped a slice into his mouth and closed his eyes, trying to unwind the anxiety that had curled so tightly around him. He was eating. It might just be an orange, but he was eating, and it was necessary to eat, so it was good that he was eating something. He put another slice in his mouth. He could try again in the morning, when Wild would surely make an exceptional breakfast for them all. He could always try again. Tomorrow was another day. Maybe he would be more level-headed in the morning. He ate another slice. At least he wasn’t having sleep for dinner. He had done that far too many times, with varying levels of consequences.

Wars sighed as he ate the final orange slice. He needed to get back before the others started to worry. Being gone long enough to have someone sent to look for him would yield far more questions than stepping away for a few minutes. He followed the sound of voices back to the beach, quietly moving towards his bedroll as the others talked. Most of them had finished eating and were chatting instead. Hopefully they would just let him be this evening.

His hopes were dashed as Wild walked over to his spot with a bowl of the wonderful smelling dinner he had prepared. He held it forward, offering it to Wars.

“Saved you some.”

Of course he had, Wild was considerate like that. But he couldn’t take it. He felt the tendrils of anxiety squeeze around his heart as he quickly plastered on a winning smile. The one be saved for the nobles and high ranks of his era. The one that said, “I am in control of this situation. Everything is fine.” He hated it. Hated the bowl of food in front of him. Hated his stupid fears and hated having to eat when he didn’t want to and-

“Thanks, Wild, but I’m good for tonight.”

The cook frowned, and fear lanced through Wars’ heart. But Wild just nodded, bit his lip, and turned to leave Wars alone. He wanted to exhale in relief but refused. There were eyes on him. He could feel their gaze burning into his skin, searching for imperfection. There was concern, pity, confusion, questions forming on lips-

“Watching your figure, Captain?”

Of course, the Vet would throw the first punch. A dagger between his ribs. It’s a joke, a playful jab, so he laughs because that’s what you’re supposed to do. They tell you how lucky you are to be so skinny and you smile and bat your eyelashes. They put their hand around your wrist, talk about putting meat on your bones. You laugh, promise to try whatever it is they’re offering next time. You dance around the buffet tables and answer that you ate earlier, it’s really no problem. He feels the smile on his face falter but holds on. 

But when he laughs that hollow laugh he’s practiced a hundred times, he sees the way the Vet’s smile changes, like he knows the sound, knows that it is empty. Even when the others giggle and laugh into another topic, Legend’s eyes linger on Wars for a bit longer, and he feels caught. 

Caught like hands on his back, fingers touching his hair, soft words that are supposed to be compliments but instead dig deep into his skin like claws. It’s a compliment. Skinny is good, skinny is pretty, and oh you’re so lucky to be so pretty. You don’t even have to try.

The Vet has looked away, they all have, but Wars could feel himself spiraling. The smile falls and he is tired. He lays down on his bedroll, turns away from the fire and the friendly conversation. Shame lights a fire on his skin and he wishes so desperately that he could just be… normal.

Wars focused on his breathing, distancing himself from the rabid emotions and hateful thoughts. He was trying. And trying is hard. The others don’t know, and it’s not their fault. 

The camp of heroes eventually fell quiet, as the others took to their bedrolls with full bellies and content smiles. Wars rubbed the fabric of his blanket between his fingers, focusing on the texture. He tried to distract himself from the swirl of hunger-anxiety-nausea that was keeping him awake. Hopefully exhaustion would claim him soon.

The stillness of the camp was broken somewhat by a quiet shuffling. There were soft footsteps coming towards him. He considered feigning sleep, as he really did not want to deal with whatever was coming his way. 

It wouldn’t have mattered if he had tried, though, as the person who came to sit by his bedroll was Time. Time, who had once been Mask, his little brother, who often tried to feign sleep when the captain tried to talk to him. Maybe he should have tried, just out of spite. The thought made him smile a little, and he tried to use it to reassure Time. But his brother was older now. He had seen more, done more, and somehow managed to come out the other side with a (mostly) normal life. So while Warriors floundered as he tried to read Time as he once had Mask, his brother still saw right through him.

”You haven’t been eating.”

His first instinct was to lie. To wave away concerns with false pleasantries and platitudes, to make sure the other person isn’t concerned, regardless of his own feelings. But his brother knew them all, had heard them a hundred times as he placated anyone concerned about him. The one person who knew how to get through his walls was sitting in front of him, and he had no idea what to say.

”I had an orange.”

It sounded so weak. A pathetic attempt at getting out of the conversation. And oh, how sad Time looked now. He wished for any other emotion- anger, concern, but not this deep disappointment. Mask had never been good at talking about his feelings, and while Wars was certain that Malon helped bring him out of some of his worst habits, he still struggled around the other heroes. Time didn’t say anything. He instead reached out and let his hand rest over Wars, the one that was rubbing a hole into the blanket with his worries. 

“I’m trying.”

It was hardly more than a whisper, but he didn’t trust his voice. The emotions of the day were threatening to overwhelm him. 

“What can I do?”

Time had made his voice just as soft. His hand stayed on top of Wars’. The question threatened to break him. What could he do? The presence of his brother was enough to settle his nerves, his hand a reassuring weight. But with eating? How exactly could he help when the battle was internal, when even logic couldn’t defeat the irrational fears that plagued him? He shook his head and blinked away the tears that threatened to spill. He let go of the blanket and turned his hand to hold Time’s.

”This already means more than you know.”

The waves crashed against the shore. Time went and got his bedroll and moved it to lie next to Warriors. He held his hand out, and it was quickly taken once more. The two brothers laid facing one another, hands loosely clasped. No more words were exchanged as the two basked in the safety of each other’s presence, their breathing evening out as they drifted to sleep. 

Tomorrow would bring more challenges, more fear, more questions and pain. But it would also bring peace, laughter, and understanding. Every day was another chance to try.