Chapter Text
The rain pounds down in thick droplets against your back, soaking through your shirt in moments. You run, huddled over your bag, desperate for any sign of shelter amidst the downpour.
Shit.
So much for taking the day to draw outside. How were you supposed to know it would start pouring? There wasn’t even any rain in the forecast. Your breath tears from your lungs in heavy gasps, feet casting small waves below you with each slap against the pavement. You flee the park, crossing the street and running down the sidewalk of the impending block with ever-increasing urgency— the wind’s still picking up. You know you haven’t seen the worst of this storm yet. A shopping strip emerges from the mist ahead, hazy reflection shattered repeatedly by the torrent of heavy droplets. You sprint to the first shop on the block, yanking the door open to duck inside while another clap of thunder rings out overhead.
The sound of spattering rain falls away once you enter the building. Singlemindedly, you drip over to the nearest table, shivering involuntarily at the rapid change in temperature against your wet shoulders. You fling down your bag onto the small tabletop. Still safe! With a sigh of relief, you finish fishing your drawing tablet out of its plastic covering and set it down on the table, safely away from your sodden belongings.
Only then do you feel the piercing gaze following your movements.
Belatedly, you look up at the worker behind the counter, who stares back at you wordlessly while you awkwardly retrace your steps to the pale pink rug by the door to wipe your feet and attempt to shake some of the water out of your clothes. He half raises a hand in greeting.
“Sorry”, you stutter out. “It’s uhm. Wet. Out there.” You gesture lamely out the glass storefront behind you as if the visual indication will bolster your case against the ongoing storm. Your voice cracks when you raise it to speak over the muffled pounding of rain.
The cashier snickers.
You want to die.
Instead, you tear your eyes away from the cashier’s face to inspect the interior of the small establishment you’ve stumbled into. Pastel walls brightened by round hanging lights, clean tile floors, and a quiet atmosphere with soft music you can’t quite make out over the raging storm. The left wall is covered with a large panel of fake grass, sporting an arrangement of cloth flowers in blues, pinks, and whites. Cozy tables in dark wood finish with clustered chairs are spread out across the room, uncommonly bare amid the onset of the abrupt rain.
A café.
It’s empty except for yourself and the person working the counter. Short and slender, with his pointed ears sporting blue metal rings that sway with every movement. The server’s long blonde hair is pulled up into a messy half pony, the rest of it cascading around his shoulders and over the straps of his bright blue apron. He’s busy scribbling something on a notepad on the counter, but looks up when you approach. He catches your eyes and signs briefly- too fast and too complex for you to catch the words.
Oh goddesses. “I’m so sorry- I’m not that good with sign— I’m sorry!!” You have to fight to keep the panic out of your voice. You think you’re losing the battle.
But he blinks a couple times before grabbing for the pen and paper again, flipping a new page and hastily scribbling down a response. He drops the pen and turns the notebook around, holding it up for you to see. His handwriting is messy, barely legible, and you have to squint to read some of the letters.
“no worries. most people aren’t.
thought i’d try.
are u gonna order something?”
Right.
Of course.
A menu hangs above him on the back wall; a meticulously transcribed chalkboard framed with fairy lights in blinking colors. Doodles of five-petaled flowers and interwoven leaves dust the outer edge of the board. Someone clearly put a lot of time into the decoration- somehow, you sincerely doubt it was the Hylian standing in front of you now.
The handwritten script details a plethora of options for tea— milk tea. It’s not something you’ve had a lot of experience with. So, you reluctantly lower your gaze again to the expectant barista, bracing yourself for another embarrassment. you’re acutely aware of your soaked hair forming stringy veins of teal against your skin as it clings to your neck. “To be honest with you, I’m not sure I’ve ever had milk tea before. I don’t really know what to expect from it…. What do you recommend?”
Pen scratching on paper again. He flips the notebook once more for you to read the new line: “what kind of flavors do u like”.
“…Sweet?”
He thinks for a moment, frowning, blue eyes drifting toward the ceiling. “taro milk tea. it tastes like cereal milk”.
“That sounds—”
He yanks back the notebook again suddenly.
“and it’s purple.”
He grins.
You can’t help a giggle escaping your lips as you nod your response.
You finish paying for the order and move to take your seat again, but your attention is brought back by the tapping of pen on counter, and a raised notebook. “what’s your name? for the drink order,” the barista explains.
You make an exaggerated motion to look around the empty room.
He just shrugs. “protocol”.
Somehow, he doesn’t strike you as the type to follow protocol.
“It’s Dae,” you offer, as he nods and moves to write the moniker on the empty cup. Now that you’re closer, you notice the cashier’s hair is pinned up using an old tan rubberband that’s clearly been tied back together in repair, and… paperclips? Yeah. Definitely not the type to follow protocol. “What’s yours?”
“L-I-N-K,” he signs, pointing at his nametag with his other hand.
“Oh. I guess I could’ve read that,” you laugh, “I promise i know how to read.” You shake your wet hair out of your face again, hoping to distract from the pace of the conversation.
“It’s alright if I sit for a while? I don’t want my stuff to get wet, but I don’t have anything waterproof to carry it in.” Sighing, you add, “Maybe the rain will die down so I can get back home.” For better or worse, you did bring your tablet with you. You might as well get some work done while you’re here; it looks like you won’t be leaving anytime soon.
Link has already turned to walk to the back counter, but his hair bounces an affirmation as he nods.
You return to your table beside the floral signboard, grabbing your drawing tablet from its resting place to set it up in front of you. You’re grateful for the opportunity to work without distractions. It feels like forever since you’ve sat down to paint for any length of time, and you’ve missed the process desperately. New canvas, a swap to your favorite brush, and you form a few experimental curves across the screen before laying out the composition in chunky shapes. You’ve barely started planning your color scheme when the soft chime of a bell interrupts you, signaling that Link has finished your tea.
The first sip is everything you hoped it would be. Cold, and sweet. It does, in fact, remind you of the leftover milk from a bowl of cereal; with a dreamy color that makes you want to draw the stars.
The next few minutes are spent in comfortable silence, listening to the downpour outside as you sip your tea. Rain, pop music, and your own quiet motions blend into a lull; pale pink and grey to match the overcast skyline beyond the store’s glass front. Occasionally, you feel Link’s eyes on you from the back corner of the shop, but you do your best to ignore the intrusion, desperate not to make eye contact for fear of obligation to interact with the pretty Hylian again. Mostly, the air is filled with the gentle scratching of his pen, adding depth to the ambience.
You return to your painting after a time, opening the color palette and sliding the cursor noncommitally. With a lazy hum, you take another sip of your tea, eyes flicking toward the hazy lavender liquid. Your stylus makes a couple taps against the glass of the tablet as you begin to lay out the colors of the sky and land.
Purple seems appropriate.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
You can tell it’s getting late by the subtly darkening sky, leaving the café’s hanging lanterns to illuminate the space unaided. Heavy rain continues to fall in lazy droplets from persistent clouds— though it’s still a massive improvement from the downpour a couple hours prior. Your hair and clothes have mostly dried, with the exception of your wet socks. Gross. You’re honestly just grateful you didn’t take the time to dress nicely today; images of trudging through the rain decked out in heavy necklaces, belts, and leather harness haunt your mind as you re-pack your belongings and stand up from the small table, stretching.
Only a few other customers had come in for drinks while you sat at your table, working, and none of them had stayed long. The shop was once again presently empty; quiet walls housing pittering rainfall and the small movements of a pair of silent inhabitants.
It feels odd to leave without addressing the only other person in the room. So you turn back toward the cashier before you leave, drawing a couple steps closer to get Link’s attention.
“Thank you for the tea,” you begin, “and the recommendation. It was amazing.” You glance ruefully out the window. Wavering briefly, you add: “Stay dry out there, if it’s still raining when you finish your shift.”
Link pauses in cleaning off the display case to the right end of the counter, blue eyes flicking between you and the grey horizon. He holds up a finger.
You step forward curiously.
“wait here a sec”. Link slaps the paper down on the countertop and disappears into the back room. He returns a few seconds later holding a seafoam-green umbrella patterned with frogs and pink water lilies. A small plastic charm of an egg-shaped character with one spindly arm raised in greeting dangles from the handle, tied to the umbrella with a striped blue ribbon. He pushes it into your hands wordlessly.
Frowning, you open your mouth in protest. “Wait- are you sure? What if you need it later? I can’t just take your umbrella!”
“not mine
it’s zelda’s”
“…Coworker?”
“ya,” he scribbles again, “she keeps one at work just in case”.
“And you’re sure it’s okay for me to borrow this? What about you?”
Link nods. “i walk home in the rain all the time— it’s nice. i like it.
i’ll just tell zelda i borrowed her umbrella this time tho”
Hesitantly, you smile and accept the loan, drawing it closer to yourself. With fervent promises to return the umbrella, you walk back towards the entrance to the shop, waving back to Link as you step away.
You flash him the sign for thank you as you step out the door. His resulting smile radiates bright enough to banish the remaining clouds from the sky.
As you reenter the drizzle, froggy umbrella in tow, you turn to look up at the sign hanging above the entrance. The florid letters read:
Boba-blin.