Pik's POV
6:00 p.m., Christmas Day

A harmonious symphony pervades the grand living room space, one of clinking glassware, the gentle crackle of the hearth, and the dulcet strains of Christmas jazz. I might never see my home, or my family, with my own two eyes again, but I can still appreciate their gilded sounds of laughter and endearment.

Mom sits across from me, near the fire, regaling everyone in the room with a story from her most recent movie. Dad seems to hang on her every syllable, as if he hasn't heard this story twice already.

"...and then we filmed the dinner scene," Mom says, lifting her voice to a poised yet playful cadence. "There, before us, was a table so opulently adorned it might have graced the courts of Louis XIV, laden with a feast to make Epicurus weep. Straight out of a cookbook, I tell you! I mean, it looked Michelin-starred! Of course, the food wasn't real-ingeniously sculpted but inedible as a banker's conscience. My poor co-star, Summersett, apparently didn't know that the food was just a prop, so the moment the director shouts action, she plunges her teeth into this... thing that was supposed to pass as roast duck. It was like chewing on a stress ball."

A trill of laughter escapes Mom, bright as a bell's chime. Cantabile. I find myself smiling, not for the humor-quite frankly I'm hardly listening to her story-but for the rare and cherished sound of her unguarded cheerfulness. I've missed this so much. I would love to see their smiles too, but having been away for so many years, the simple sound of their voices is quite enough to bring this grown man to tears. I wipe them before anyone notices my silent tantrum over here.

"Some more Madeira, sir?" the servant quietly asks me while mom continues the tale. "Or..." he pauses very briefly. "Perhaps a handkerchief?"

I chuckle soundlessly, shaking my head, and whisper back, "No, thank you."

"No to the Madeira or the handkerchief, sir?"

"Both." I think I've had enough wine for tonight. I recently learned that being blind AND drunk is an awful combination; turns out my remaining senses are sort of crucial for avoiding things like accidentally drunk-calling people while lying on the gallery floor at 3 am.

"By the third take," Mom's voice pulls me back in, "we were all silently daring each other to actually eat the prop. The laughter you'll see on screen? Utterly authentic; born not of script but of survival!"

"When does the movie premiere again?" Leo asks, his words slightly slurred. He's had one too many glasses of GlenDronach-single-malt, aged twenty-one years. Probably costs more than my rent.

"February, wasn't it?" his wife, Isha, replies. She's seated between Leo and me, her hand idly stroking Navi and occasionally running into mine.

"Yes, February 7," Dad declares with unabashed pride.

"Right in time for awards season," Ramses says, to which Dad suggests: "Shall we host a soirée that weekend?"

Mom deflects with a casual, high pitched laugh (practiced nonchalance) as if we're not talking about the next big release that's already generating Oscar buzz. "Enough you guys, I'm utterly sick of talking about me." I hear the light clink of her empty glass as she places it on a servant's tray. "Pike," she says, and I sense all eyes turning toward me. "This is the first Christmas in ages we've had you home. What is new in your life?"

"Nothing," I reply with a shrug, making it sound deliberately unremarkable. Yet, the silence stretches laden with expectation. "Really, there's nothing," I assure them, but the silence prevails. "Well, except for the obvious," I gesture toward my cane and raise the brows that crown my defective gray eyes.

"What about that lovely girlfriend of yours? You've been dating for, what, a decade now?" And here it is: Mom with the intrusive curiosity that seems her birthright.

"Oh, yes!" Dad chimes in. Way too eager. "Why isn't she here today? You did invite her, right?"

Before I can answer, Ramses swoops in, taking the seat to my right. "You're asking all the wrong questions, Dad," he says, his intent clearly to mock our parents. He nudges me from the side, but I don't turn to look at him. "Have you set a date to propose? Picked out baby names? Put a bid on one of those suburban houses with the white picket fences?"

I know him well enough to understand that it's a throwaway joke, but it lands like a firecracker. What should have been a passing quip to entertain Mom and Dad ignites a blaze of excitement that somehow turns this is into a real discussion.

"You are proposing?" Mom gasps at the same time as Dad orders the maid to grab six glasses-the expensive hand-blown crystal ones.

"When each of you boys were born, I bought the most expensive bottle of wine I could find to open on the day you get engaged." He claps his hands. "I shall go to the wine cellar right away to grab the Château d'Yquem!"

"Hold on!" I shout into the room, unheard. "You guys!" My attempts to stop them fail as the room erupts in gleeful chatter.

"Don't worry, son," Dad says, passing by me on his way out, "I've got another one saved for the wedding!"

I sigh to myself, wishing I was not blind but deaf, if only to avoid this whole misunderstanding. I was going to wait until after dinner to... well... ruin dinner, but I guess I'll have to tell them the truth right now, before things get even more awkward.

How do you break it to the two most insufferable, love-drenched idealists since Tristan and Isolde that their son still hasn't managed to figure out his love life, despite their best efforts to script it like some Shakespearean tragedy?

Just as I rise from my seat to explain that Mia and I are not getting engaged, that we in fact did not work out at all, my phone rings.

"Will you excuse me," I say gladly, already retreating toward the corridor. Whoever is calling, telemarketer or scam, tonight you are my Joan of Arc.

I bring the phone up to my ear. "Hello?"

"Thank Hylia, you answered!" Zelda's voice bursts out, frantic and breathless, her words tumbling over one another in despair. "Are you okay?"

"Um..." Taken aback, I take a second to consider why I wouldn't be. "Yes, I'm okay. Are you?"

"Nobody is answering my calls and Malice is gone, and I don't know what happened but I think it has something to do with Ganondorf!"

"Woah, slow down." I keep my voice as calm as possible to counter her rising panic.

"Malice is gone," Zelda cries out. "Pik, do you hear me?"

"Yes, I hear you, Zelda. But... what do you mean she's gone?"

"I came home and nobody was there! I was only gone for an hour or two at most! I was at the police station and then I had to stop by campus but then I came back and suddenly the whole house was abandoned and I don't know if I should call the police because I remember Malice warning me they might be corrupt, but I was about to hand them some sensitive evidence and now I don't know if I can trust them!"

"Zelda-"

"Please Pik, I don't know what to do!"

"First, you need to breathe," I say. I didn't intend for it to sound comical, but given her current state, the advice to exercise her lungs does seem slightly comedic. "You said you were at the police station? What were you doing there?"

"Two officers showed up at our house earlier and told me to come with them. They said it was urgent! They needed me to confirm something so they could arrest Ganon! So I went with them!"

"I thought Ganon was-"

"He got released," she says, and follows with, "On Thanksgiving."

"Oh no..." It doesn't take a genius to put one and one together. I frown at the thought of her father's passing. "Zelda, I'm so sorry..."

"No, don't even worry about that right now. I'm sure the police are trustworthy and that they will take care of it. I just need to know where our friends are. Do you think Ganondorf might have taken them?"

"Let's not jump to conclusions. Who was at the house before you left?"

"Everyone," Zelda swallows forcefully, her voice trembling. The way she's gasping for air is starting to unsettle me as well, but I can't let it show. I need to stay perfectly calm for her. "Link, Malice, Impa, Revali, err... Sidon, Kiroh, Mipha... They're all gone now and nobody is answering their phones."

"Is it possible that they all went somewhere together? Christmas market? Dinner? Light show?"

"Unlikely. Malice doesn't trust half of them enough to leave with them, especially not in broad daylight. Something serious must have happened for her to vanish like that."

I lean against the wall behind me, pensively grasping for any explanation, logical or absurd, for their sudden disappearance.

"Pik," Zelda's voice comes as a feeble cry, small and defeated. "I'm scared..."

"Don't be scared, Zelda. I'm right here, you got me." I pause to allow her to hear and adapt to the rhythm of my breathing. "We're two relatively smart fellas, right? I'm sure we can figure this out."

Her breath steadies slightly, yet, something about her voice sounds broken when she reluctantly asks, "Can you... come over?"

I stand stock-still for a beat. It's not hesitation, not quite. I'm just processing the whole situation. It must be serious if she is asking a blind man for help. Then again, I'm probably the last person she called.

Let's hope Link doesn't mind me filling in. Actually, at this point it would probably be a good thing if he minds; it would mean he's well enough to worry about me, rather than-you know-death.

"Sure," I say to Zelda. "Just stay where you are. I'm on my way."

----

I know this chapter was a bit shorter than usual. I'm working on making those printed books happen, which means I have to reread the whole YOU series and check for typos and format everything the way it would be on paper :') It demands a lot of time. My semester is also starting in two days, which means I gotta lock in for school again Ḩ̴̱̭͚̈́́͘Ë̵͍̙̬̜͕́͘L̸̲̟͂͗̎̀P̵̹̹̹͑̽̈́̅

But don't worry, some longer chapters are coming up soon, so I hope you'll enjoy those! I'm also working on character art for Ravioli, Mipha, Malice, and maybe Kiroh? I know it's been requested a lot :)

In the meantime, talk to me :D Leave me some comments here, because I miss chatting with you guys! (curse Wattpad for removing DM's!). If you have any questions about the YOU series, or the printed books, we can do a mini Q&A here in the comments 🡆🡆🡆