Because of You│Zelink BOTW & TOTK modern AU fanfic

Voicemail

Ganon's POV

I lay on my bunk, staring at the cracked ceiling. Eight months in this hellhole and nothing's changed.

Every sound echoes, bouncing off the concrete walls. It's the same damn routine, day in, day out. First the clinking of keys, then the shuffling of boots down the corridor. Sometimes, some guy shouts at the guards, other times it's dead quiet.

I try to block it out, focus on the cold metal or empty stares of my cellmate, but for some reason I just can't stay still.

The guard's movin' slower than usual, like he's dreading what's about to happen.

After a stretch of silence, the guard's voice hollers down the hallway. "Ganon!"

I stand, muscles tight. Every step's calculated. When he arrives at my cell, he takes a long look of disgust at me. "You're up," he says, his voice flat and bored. 

He unlocks the cell door—metal scraping against metal—and gestures for me to step out.

"Up for what?" I ask skeptical.

Yellow crooked teeth; he grins a fake smile. "You're getting released. Your bail's been paid."

My eyes widen, brows stiff from the shock. "By who?"

"Shut it and get moving already. I ain't got all day."

I don't say nothin' at first, just let the words sink in. Bail was at a million dollars, if I remember correctly, so there's only one man who could've paid that much money. And he's never done me a favor unless he wanted somethin' in return... 

I walk past the other cells, the fluorescent lights buzzin' above. Some guys nod at me. Others just watch. I keep my eyes straight ahead. Eight months instead of ten years. Who woulda thought.

We reach the front, where the guard hands me a bag with my belongings as if it's a fucking Christmas present. This is literally all the shit they took from me when I got here, and yet this asshole looks at me like he's expecting a thank you.

I get dressed in the same clothes I was wearing during the arrest. The different fabric don't feel right. It's kinda strange after all this time in orange jumpsuits. And the guard's not making this any less weird. He's watching me, waiting for me to say somethin', but I ain't givin' him the satisfaction. I keep my eyes and thoughts to myself.

"Sign here," he says, shoving a clipboard in my face. I scribble my name with a stiff hand, the pen scratching against the paper. "You're all set to go. Don't come back," he snorts at his own joke. I don't even bother responding. No point. "Happy Thanksgiving, Ganon."

I'm not sure if it's actually Thanksgiving or if it's just another joke of his, and my phone's dead so I can't even check the date. 

It don't matter anyways. Once I've stepped outside, I've already forgotten about the guard. The setting sun's blinding me, seagulls squeak up above somewhere in the bright sky, and a gust of wind slaps me across the face. I blink, adjusting. The air smells like sweat, grime, and pollution. But I take a deep breath. 

Wish I could call an Uber or somethin', but I got no charger for my phone with me. 

"Yo, Ganon!" a familiar voice calls out. My eyes slide into its direction. Karusa's leaning against the hood of his car in the parking lot. He flicks his cig away and lifts his hand halfway to get my attention with an awkward wave, but lowers it again when I spot him against the bright sunset.

I walk over and toss my small plastic bag of junk through the open backseat window of his old, rusty Nissan. The silver paint's peeling away at its sides, and with its cracked rear view mirror and gunshot hole in the back, it looks like it's seen better days. Just like us.