Ghiralink Drabbles

Cigarettes and Beer

A/N: inspired by a soulmate au prompt where scars that person A inflicts upon them self also appear on person B. This is a modern au and the characters are aged down to 14 or 15: basically freshman in high school.

Ghirahim couldn't do anything as it happened. The silvery scars spiderwebbed across his forearms. Once in a while, they'd appear in other places like his legs or stomach. He didn't mind them really, it just distressed him knowing that someone else was in this much pain.

Some nights he wouldn't be able to fall asleep and found his fingers tracing them. He tried to imagine how the other must feel needing to inflict pain upon them self, but he always came up empty. He just couldn't understand it.

Other nights, he'd stare at himself nude in front of a mirror. He'd get mad, rarely, but the annoyance would still bubble up inside of him. People made fun of him at school, thinking he was the one that injured himself. It wasn't fair.

Yes, he would feel distressed, confused, and mad, but he didn't truly feel sad about the scars until a new student shared the same class as him.

The blond had walked with his head down, immediately plunking down into the seat farthest away from everyone. His hair had been tangled and his knuckles were a bright red, as if he had been punching a wall before school started. The new student kept his head buried in his arms for most of the time, so Ghirahim could only catch a few glimpses of his face. Of what he could see, he wasn't that impressed. Flat, blue eyes stared inattentively at the teachers and a pink tongue would occasionally dart out to lick chapped, splitting lips.

The boy was just unremarkable. Why wouldn't someone take better care of them self? Did the boy even shower? Ghirahim subconsciously narrowed his eyes as he continued to stare the boy down. However, he quickly adverted his attention back down to his class work as his cheeks burned in embarrassment when the boy turned his head and glared at him.

A week later, he learned the boy's name was Link.

Rumors had spread across the school like wildfire about him. Some believed he was a pervert, having to switch schools after forcing himself onto a girl. Others thought he lived on the street, not being able to take care of his hygiene as well as he should. However, the most popular rumor was that his own father had raped him, and he and his mother had moved away.

Ghirahim chewed on the tip of his pen, studying the glum boy. He didn't know why he was so intrigued by the grungy teen, but he couldn't stop himself from staring at the other all through their one shared class. However, Ghirahim wasn't sly. Link always seemed to catch him. The blond would either glare or roll his eyes at him before staring blankly out the window again. Ghirahim had quickly grown out of being embarrassed when he was caught, instead, he learned to embrace and it would raise an eyebrow cockily at the other.

The bell suddenly rang, breaking Ghirahim out of his thoughts. He tried to quickly, yet clumsily, stuff his papers into his book bag as his classmates began to filter out. A presence hovering over his desk made him pause his actions.

"I'd appreciate it if you stopped gawking at me every class period," Link stated. His voice was gruff and gravely, perhaps from not using it a lot. Ghirahim stared dumbstruck at the other while fighting the urge to crinkle his nose as the pungent stench of cigarette smoke came from the other. Link rolled his eyes. "This was pointless," he sighed out, walking away from Ghirahim. The taller male seemed frozen, only able to swallow nervously as his eyes trailed down the retreating backside of his classmate.

That night, Ghirahim was trying, and failing, to do his homework. His mind kept betraying him, preferring to dwell on Link rather than Algebra II. He let out a purely frustrated groan as he let his head slam onto his textbook. He screwed his eyes shut tightly, wishing that his classmate would leave his head for just one second. He got his wish as a tingling sensation started to run across his wrists. He let out another frustrated groan, knowing exactly what it was.