Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It was the day of Zanka’s final tournament, and the excitement sitting in his chest was impossible to ignore.

The entire arena was crowded from corner to corner, packed with people filling the seats while loud whistles, claps, and distant cheers echoed through the massive stadium walls. The atmosphere alone made his blood rush faster.

Zanka stood near the preparation area, staring ahead at the large stage set in the middle of the arena where the tournament mats had already been laid out neatly beneath the bright overhead lights. His hands moved down to tighten the black belt secured around his waist before adjusting the blue protective gear strapped over his body.

Soon after, he grabbed his helmet and slid it over his head, the padding pressing lightly against his cheeks as he exhaled through his nose, preparing himself mentally before the match even started.

Before he could fully gather his thoughts, a familiar presence stepped beside him. His father stood there calmly, arms crossed for a brief moment before speaking.

“Remember what I told you, Zanka. Fight the same way we practiced.”

His father’s voice carried that usual firm tone, though beneath it was the clear sound of encouragement that Zanka had grown used to over the years.

Zanka let out a quiet breath before slowly turning his head toward him, the helmet shifting slightly from the movement.

“I know, Father.”

There was a spark in Zanka’s eyes despite the helmet covering half his face, and his father could already tell he was smiling underneath it. The older man gave him a short nod before lifting a hand and lightly smacking Zanka’s back with his palm, enough to push him forward a step.

“Come on. Get up there.”

Zanka obeyed immediately and began walking out toward the stage. The moment he stepped into view, the noise around the arena seemed to rise even louder. Applause erupted through the crowd along with whistles and distant shouting coming from the audience seats.

He had finally made it to the finals.

This was the last round. The final chance to win everything.

As he walked closer toward the mat, his gaze drifted toward the front rows where his family sat. Even among the massive crowd, he spotted them immediately. Zanka raised a hand and waved briefly, silently letting them know he could see them from where he stood before climbing fully onto the stage.

The second his shoes touched the mat, his attention shifted elsewhere.

His opponent stood several feet away on the opposite side of the arena, already waiting.

They wore red protective gear from head to toe, making it impossible for Zanka to properly make out their face beneath the helmet. Still, that didn’t matter much to him.

He would see their face eventually.

Preferably after knocking enough sense into them to win the match.

At least, that was the plan.

The referee lifted the whistle and signaled for both fighters to approach. The two figures walked toward each other across the mat before stopping at the center. As tradition demanded, they shook hands first before bowing respectfully toward one another. Afterward, both stepped back into position.

Zanka lowered himself into his stance immediately, focused and steady, his eyes locked directly onto the red gear standing across from him.

But his opponent still hadn’t moved yet.

Then suddenly, they shifted into position with a smooth, sharp motion that caught Zanka slightly off guard. Their stance was clean and controlled, but strange and  unfamiliar.

It wasn’t anything Zanka had been taught before, nor was it anything he recognized from the tournaments he had participated in.

Zanka gave them an odd look at first. The stance they were using was unusual—nothing like what he had ever been taught before. But oh well. It’s not like they were going to win anyway.

Once he’ll win this round, he’d be showered with praise and validation from his family and everyone around him, treated like he is some kind of God.

The thought alone made a smirk tug at his lips beneath the helmet.

Several tense minutes passed while both fighters remained in position, waiting for the signal. The entire arena seemed to hold its breath alongside them.

Then the referee blew the whistle loudly.

Immediately, both figures launched forward at full speed.

Zanka was already prepared to crush his opponent.

Or so he thought.

After what felt like an eternity on that mat, Zanka genuinely believed he had the match under control. He imagined himself dominating the fight, slamming his opponent to the ground and proving exactly why he had made it to the finals in the first place.

But reality was far different.

His opponent was the one controlling the pace.

Zanka quickly stumbled backward as the figure in red launched another series of unbelievably fast kicks toward him. One sharp strike aimed directly for the side of his head, but Zanka reacted quickly enough to block it with his forearm before immediately countering with a rising kick of his own.

It should have landed.

Instead, his opponent moved far too quickly. Using their free leg, they twisted their body and slammed a kick directly into the side of Zanka’s ribs.

Zanka let out a rough grunt as the impact sent him rolling harshly across the mat.

The referee’s whistle pierced through the arena.

“Point! One to two!”

Crap!

Zanka felt frustration crawl violently through his chest. His jaw tightened painfully while both fists clenched so hard his knuckles almost hurt beneath the gloves.

Across from him, his opponent didn’t even spare him another glance. They simply walked calmly back toward their starting position as if nothing had happened.

That irritated him even more.

Zanka immediately forced himself back onto his feet and returned to position, lowering into his stance once again. He inhaled deeply through his nose before exhaling slowly, trying to steady himself.

He needed to win this.

He couldn’t afford to lose.

Not here. Not now.

He couldn’t let his bloodline fall because of him.

The referee blew the whistle again, signalling the next round to begin.

Both fighters remained perfectly still for a brief moment, balanced in their stances while silently waiting to see who would strike first.

Then Zanka blinked.

Just once and suddenly his opponent was already in front of him.

Zanka flinched in shock and immediately raised his arms to block the rapid attacks coming his way.

Their movements were sharp and precise, one strike flowing smoothly into the next. An elbow came flying toward his chin, but Zanka managed to dodge backward just in time before quickly trying to regain control of the fight.

He lunged forward again, throwing a clean roundhouse kick toward their side but his opponent dodged it effortlessly.

He closed the distance immediately while they were still shifting away from his attack and lifted his other leg for a powerful back kick, but somehow, they slipped away from that too with impossible speed.

Zanka’s eyes widened beneath his helmet.

What the hell?

He moved back instinctively the moment he noticed their hand darting toward his face. Zanka ducked under it, grabbed onto their wrist tightly, and spun his body into a turning kick.

Blocked again.

Before he could fully recover, his opponent grabbed his ankle using their free arm and swung another kick toward his core. Zanka barely managed to jerk backward in time to avoid taking the full impact.

The moment he freed himself from their grip, he immediately retreated several steps.

This person was getting harder to read.

Far harder than anyone he had ever fought before.

They moved too quickly, throwing combinations of kicks and punches while effortlessly targeting every opening in his defense. Meanwhile, Zanka found himself struggling more and more just to keep up.

Sweat began dripping down the side of his face beneath the helmet.

Frustration slowly twisted into fear.

He needed to win.

No…he had to win.

There wasn’t another option. There wasn’t an “if.” Losing was never supposed to happen.

If he failed here, what would his father think of him?

What would his family think?

What would everyone think?

People would lose respect for him. They would stop seeing him as talented. Stop seeing him as someone special.

The thought alone made his chest tighten painfully.

Zanka bit down hard against the inside of his lip before quickly retreating after narrowly dodging another kick. Then suddenly, both fighters moved at the exact same time.

They each spun into a roundhouse kick simultaneously, their legs colliding together in perfect sync before both attacks were blocked by one another.

The crowd erupted into loud cheers at the exchange.

Zanka stared directly at his opponent afterward, but they still didn’t seem tired. They didn’t even look stressed.

Who the hell is this person?! Zanka gritted his teeth hard.

He rushed forward again, throwing a hand knife strike toward their neck, but they stepped back smoothly to avoid it. Zanka followed with another roundhouse kick. Then another. Then another. His techniques flowed rapidly one after another, sharp and aggressive while his opponent continued dodging with unnerving calmness.

Then Zanka saw it.

A single opening.

Small, almost impossible to notice but to him, it stood out like a crack in glass.

The opponent’s footing shifted for half a second, their balance leaning too far to the left as their guard loosened just enough to expose a vulnerable point. It was brief. So brief most people would have missed it entirely.

But Zanka didn’t.

Years of training had sharpened his instincts to a terrifying level, and the moment he caught it, adrenaline surged through his body. His pulse quickened with excitement, anticipation crawling beneath his skin like electricity.

Beneath the helmet, a slow grin spread across his face.

Perfect.

That opening was all he needed.

Without hesitation, he launched himself into the air, his body twisting smoothly into a high tornado kick meant to end the match in one clean strike but the moment he landed, something went horribly wrong.

His foot hit the ground at the wrong angle.

His ankle twisted too far.

And suddenly, the entire world flipped upside down.

A sharp force shot violently through his leg, so sudden and brutal that Zanka felt the air leave his lungs. His balance collapsed instantly beneath him. The floor that was supposed to steady him instead felt like it had disappeared completely, his body tilting sideways before crashing hard against the mat.

Zanka felt his entire heart drop.

Then he heard it.

A crack.

Not loud.

Not dramatic.

But horrifyingly clear.

It echoed inside his head louder than the crowd around him.

For a second, everything became distorted.

The lights above blurred together, the ceiling spinning violently as nausea slammed into him. His stomach twisted. His breathing hitched sharply in his throat. Pain exploded from his ankle and crawled upward like fire wrapping around his bones, hot and unbearable.

His hands immediately grabbed at the mat, fingers trembling as panic rushed through him faster than the pain itself.

No.

No, no, no!

Not now.

Anything but this!

The cheers from earlier had already disappeared into muffled noise, drowned out by the ringing in his ears and the horrifying realization sinking into his chest. His body suddenly felt heavy, useless, unfamiliar as if it had betrayed him in the worst possible moment.

And all Zanka could do was stare at his ankle in growing horror, terrified to even move it.

The referee’s whistle kept blowing repeatedly, sharp and urgent, but the sound barely registered anymore. It felt distant like it was coming from underwater. The pain had swallowed everything whole, drowning out the match, the crowd, even his own thoughts.

Zanka’s breathing turned uneven almost instantly.

Fast. Heavy. Shaking.

Each inhale felt too short, each exhale too weak. His chest rose and fell in uneven bursts as he tried and failed to steady himself. His body wouldn’t obey him properly anymore; it trembled violently, muscles locked between shock and pain.

Dozens of voices crashed into him all at once, confused shouts from the crowd, footsteps rushing onto the court, the referee yelling something he couldn’t fully process, overlapping words blending into noise without meaning.

“Is he okay?”

“Did he fall wrong?”

“What happened?”

The voices blended together into one awful noise.

He could feel people staring at him from every direction. Some whispered quietly to each other while others stared in shock. Somewhere in the distance, he could even hear faint laughter.

Everything around him started spinning strangely. His vision blurred while the arena lights above him shifted painfully between too bright and too dim. The noise kept echoing louder and louder inside his head until it became unbearable.

His heart started pounding harder in his chest, loud enough that it almost drowned out everything else around him.

Then his eyes caught something in the crowd.

His family.

They were sitting there, watching him.

The reactions were immediate shock, frustration, disappointment… and something heavier underneath it all.

Shame.

And then there was his father.

Zanka didn’t need to think twice. He already knew that look. It was the same one he had seen before everything fell apart.

His throat tightened painfully, making it hard to breathe properly. The voices around him kept growing louder while his head throbbed harder and harder.

He felt sick enough to throw up right there on the mat.

His trembling eyes darted around the crowd again while the arena lights blurred together above him.

Then suddenly, a shadow blocked the harsh brightness overhead.

Someone kneeled down in front of him.

At first, Zanka could only make out a blurry figure, but as his vision slowly cleared, he realized it was his opponent.

Their helmet was off now.

And for the first time, Zanka froze completely.

His opponent was a girl.

Short white bobbed hair framed her face neatly, soft bangs falling over part of her eyes. Her features looked delicate and feminine, almost beautiful beneath the harsh arena lights, while long lashes framed a pair of large beige eyes that stared down at him with an unreadable expression.

She leaned closer slightly, checking his condition carefully before quietly speaking.

“Are you okay?”

And suddenly, Zanka jolted upright in bed, gasping as if he had just been pulled from underwater. His chest rose and fell rapidly, each breath uneven and sharp, like he had sprinted a full marathon without stopping.

His hands instinctively clenched into the blanket beneath him, gripping it tightly as if it was the only solid thing anchoring him back to reality. It took him a moment to realize his face was wet.

Tears had already slipped down his cheeks without him noticing.

He stared down at the fabric as a few drops fell onto it, darkening the material. His vision stayed slightly blurred, his heartbeat loud and erratic in his ears.

For a moment, the dream still felt too real, too close.

He forced himself to breathe in, then out, dragging air slowly through his lungs until the panic began to settle. Little by little, his breathing steadied, and the tight pressure in his chest eased.

Zanka wiped his face with the back of his hand, then let himself fall back against the bed, staring at the ceiling in silence.

Another nightmare.

He closed his eyes for a second, jaw tightening.

“...not again,” he muttered.

Zanka didn’t sleep after that.

Every time he closed his eyes, he could still see the bright tournament lights burning into his vision and hear the overwhelming noise of the crowd echoing through his head. The memory of that nightmare lingered heavily in his chest, making him too uneasy to even attempt going back to sleep again.

With a quiet sigh, Zanka pushed the blanket off himself and sat up on the edge of the bed. His room was dark except for the faint glow of moonlight slipping through the curtains. He rubbed a tired hand down his face before eventually deciding that trying to force himself to sleep was pointless. Maybe getting water would help calm him down a little. Hydration came first, after all.

Zanka slowly stood up from the bed and made his way toward the door, careful with every movement he made.

The house was silent at this hour, and the last thing he wanted was to wake everyone up accidentally, especially Enjin.

The thought alone made him grimace slightly.

Back in high school, Zanka used to stay awake nearly every night studying because he was so obsessed with graduating with perfect results. Enjin would always catch him sitting at his desk at ridiculous hours of the night, surrounded by textbooks and notes, and every single time it ended the same way.

A lecture. Then punishment.

Sometimes Enjin would even force him to stop studying for an entire day just so he could rest properly. Zanka remembered how annoyed he used to get whenever that happened, mostly because he hated disappointing him and also because he wanted to study.

Quietly making his way downstairs, Zanka reached the kitchen and flicked the lights on. The sudden brightness made him squint slightly behind his round glasses. He adjusted them on his nose before walking toward the shelves and grabbing a glass cup.

The cold air from the refrigerator brushed against him as he opened it and pulled out a bottle of water. He poured some into the glass before taking a long drink from it, feeling the coldness settle his dry throat slightly.

Zanka leaned against the kitchen counter afterward, one arm resting against the cool surface while the other loosely held the glass. He still felt drained, though at least his breathing had calmed down now.

He should probably check the time soon. He forgot his watch upstairs.

Before he could think any further, a sharp knocking sound suddenly echoed through the kitchen.

Zanka nearly choked on his own saliva.His head snapped upward immediately, only to freeze at the sight standing near the staircase.

His head snapped upward immediately, only to freeze at the sight standing near the staircase.

Enjin stood there with one hand resting against the wall, clearly the source of the knocking sound he used to get Zanka’s attention. His hair was messy and slightly damp from sleep, and he wore loose grey sweatpants with a dark red oversized shirt that hung lazily off his frame. Even half-awake, his stare was enough to make Zanka tense immediately.

Zanka forced a weak smile onto his face.

Enjin yawned quietly before narrowing his eyes at him suspiciously.

“Kinda early for you to be awake, ZanZan,” he muttered, voice rough and low from sleep. “Please don’t tell me you stayed up all night studying again.”

“I promise, Enjin, I wasn’t studyin’ this time,” Zanka replied quickly, though the slight defensiveness in his tone gave him away more than he realised.

Enjin looked unconvinced immediately.

Still, he didn’t argue about it yet. Instead, he slowly walked down the stairs and made his way into the kitchen while Zanka quietly placed the water bottle back into the fridge.

Enjin hummed softly as he leaned against the counter nearby, eyes scanning over Zanka carefully. Then his gaze paused.

“…Since when did you start wearing different glasses?” he asked. “I didn’t see those yesterday when I picked you up.”

Zanka paused for half a second. “…Uhm.”

He immediately tried thinking of an excuse.

“It’s ‘cause I accidentally broke the old ones while rushin’ to class,” he said quickly. “I dropped ‘em and the lenses cracked.”

Enjin stared at him silently.

The silence alone already told Zanka the lie failed.

“I know you well enough to tell when you’re lying,” Enjin said flatly. “Try again.”

Zanka groaned under his breath and looked away almost instantly.

“I’m tellin’ the truth.”

“The fact you can’t even look at me right now says otherwise.” Enjin crossed his arms. “Tell me what happened.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Zanka.”

“It’s seriously not-!”

“I will literally go to your campus myself and drag every single person out until someone tells me what happened.”

Zanka immediately looked horrified.

“Okay, fine!” he groaned loudly, rubbing his face in frustration. “Jus’ don’ go crazy over it, alright?”

Enjin stayed silent, waiting. Zanka leaned back against the refrigerator with a tired sigh. “Some idiot at campus messed around with my glasses and broke them.”

Enjin’s expression immediately darkened.

“So somebody’s picking on you.”

“No,” Zanka said quickly. “Well- not like that exactly.”

“That sounds exactly like that.”

“No!” Zanka reacted immediately. “It’s not like that. It’s jus’ some annoyin’ group that thinks they own the entire campus and likes botherin’ me and the others.”

“The others?”

Zanka immediately regretted wording it like that.

Enjin’s expression sharpened almost instantly. “Riyo and Rudo involved too?”

“No, not really,” Zanka corrected quickly. “They’re fine.”

“That hesitation did not help your case.”

Zanka let out a frustrated groan while Enjin pushed himself away from the counter, already looking like he was seconds away from getting dressed and driving to campus immediately.

“Enjin, don’ even start,” Zanka warned quickly.

“I’m absolutely starting.” Before Enjin could move any further, Zanka stepped forward and grabbed his wrist firmly.

“Enjin, no,” he said, voice much more serious this time. “Stop bein’ so overprotective. I know how to deal with this myself, and I can protect Riyo and Rudo too.”

Enjin stared down at the hand gripping his wrist before slowly looking back up at him again.

“And who’s protecting you then?”

Zanka paused for a moment, his grip around Enjin’s wrist loosening slightly. His fingers slowly slipped away from the fabric of Enjin’s sleeve while he looked down at the kitchen floor, avoiding his gaze again.

“If you’re thinking about me doing anything violent, I’m not,” Enjin said after a moment, his voice low and calm, though there was still a cold sharpness beneath it that immediately made Zanka tense a little.

“But I am going to have a word with whoever this specific person is.”

The tone alone sent a slight shiver down Zanka’s spine.

He immediately made a face, somewhere between disbelief and annoyance.

“We’re not kids anymore,” Zanka muttered, crossing his arms over his chest again. “And again, I know how to handle it myself.”

“I know you can.”

Zanka blinked slightly at the response.

For a second, the tension between them shifted. Enjin’s posture relaxed a little, no longer looking like he was seconds away from storming out the front door. Instead, he leaned one hip against the counter and looked at Zanka properly this time, his expression quieter now.

“How long has this been going on?” Enjin asked.

Zanka hesitated immediately.

His throat felt strangely dry again as he swallowed slowly before answering.

“…Probably since the day after our first day there,” he admitted quietly. “Y’know how me and the others joined the band?”

Enjin gave a small nod for him to continue.

“Well… apparently there’s this huge rivalry between the musicians and the athletes around campus,” Zanka explained, brows furrowing slightly as irritation crept back into his expression. “And the person who’s been botherin’ us is one of the athletes. He’s also in one of my classes, so that’s jus’ really unfortunate.”

Enjin listened silently while Zanka spoke, his expression softening slightly the more he explained.

Zanka’s hand fully dropped away from Enjin’s wrist now, hanging loosely by his side while he leaned tiredly against the counter again. His eyes stayed fixed on the wooden floorboards beneath him, shoulders slightly slumped from exhaustion.

The silence that followed stretched for several seconds. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just heavy with thought.

Eventually, Enjin spoke again.

“Did you buy those glasses yourself?” he asked, motioning lightly toward the gold-rimmed pair sitting on Zanka’s face. “They look new.”

Zanka instinctively adjusted them slightly before glancing up at him for a brief second.

“My conductor gave ‘em to me,” he mumbled. “He said I should keep ‘em.”

Enjin let out a long, amused hum at that, clearly surprised. He studied the glasses for another moment before looking back at Zanka again.

“Well, that’s good at least,” he said with a small smile. “Your conductor sounds like a decent guy.”

“Yeah,” Zanka replied quietly, his voice softening a little. “He’s… really understandin’.”

Enjin nodded slowly, though his eyes stayed on Zanka much longer than necessary afterward, like he was still trying to read through everything he wasn’t saying aloud.

Then his expression shifted again.

“…Why didn’t you fight back?” Enjin suddenly asked.

Zanka looked up at him immediately.

“Look,” Enjin continued, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, “I’m not exactly trying to raise my kids into… uh…” He paused midway through the sentence, tapping his finger against his chin while trying to think of the right word.

“Delinquents?” Zanka offered dryly, raising a brow at him.

Enjin immediately snapped his fingers. “Yep. That’s the one.” He pointed at him briefly before continuing. “Delinquents.”

Zanka rolled his eyes slightly.

“But seriously,” Enjin continued, “I taught you, Riyo, and Rudo to defend yourselves whenever you needed to. Though honestly, maybe I should’ve focused more on teaching self-control too, because back when Riyo and Rudo were in high school, they took the whole ‘defend yourself’ thing way too seriously and ended up in detention more times than I can count.”

Zanka let out a quiet huff through his nose at the memory.

“I do fight back,” he muttered. “I jus’ don’ get into fights.”

He crossed his arms tighter over his chest.

“And besides, fighting people at school is just immature. That’s high school behaviour.”

“I know,” Enjin replied with a grin. “But honestly, it wouldn’t hurt to punch at least one of them.”

He even threw in a playful wink afterward.

Zanka stared at him flatly. “Ya’ are literally provin’ my point right now.”

Enjin only laughed quietly before shrugging. Still,” he said, “you did martial arts for years, didn’t you?”

The second those words left his mouth, Zanka’s expression changed.

His shoulders stiffened almost immediately, and the irritation in his face slowly faded into something quieter. More uncomfortable.

He looked away again.

“…You know I can’t,” he muttered under his breath.

Enjin’s grin disappeared instantly.

The realization visibly hit him a second too late, and guilt immediately crossed his face.

“Oh.” He straightened slightly. “Right… I forgot.”

His voice softened considerably afterward.

“…I’m sorry.”

Zanka shook his head lightly.

“It’s fine,” he said, waving it off even though his tone sounded quieter than before. “It’s all in the past now.”

He paused there.

His fingers lightly tugged at the sleeve of his shirt while his body shifted uncomfortably against the counter.

“…But I’m still cautious ‘bout it,” he admitted softly.

The kitchen grew quiet again after that. Not because there was nothing left to say, but because both of them understood exactly what he meant without needing to explain it further.

The practice room echoed with layered melodies and sharp rhythms, every instrument blending together into something controlled yet alive.

The sound of strings, piano keys, drums, and brass bounced against the walls while the late afternoon light stretched across the polished wooden floor.

At the centre of it all stood Gris, posture straight as he guided the entire ensemble with calm precision, his baton moving smoothly through the air to keep the tempo steady.

Each motion of his wrist directed the pace of the music, softening certain sections while sharpening others. Despite how chaotic it could have sounded with so many instruments together, Gris somehow managed to hold everything in place.

Zanka sat behind the others near the back of the stage, fingers moving carefully across the smooth ivory keys of the large glass grand piano.

The instrument shimmered faintly beneath the overhead lights, the transparent surface reflecting pieces of the room around him every time he shifted slightly. His hands moved fluidly, pressing down on each note with controlled precision while his eyes remained focused on the keys.

For a long time, Zanka used to hate playing piano.

Every lesson, every recital, every performance had once reminded him of expectations that never seemed to end.

Back then, piano had felt less like music and more like another responsibility forced onto his shoulders. Something he had to perfect rather than something he could enjoy.

But somewhere along the way, that feeling had started changing.

Maybe it was because nobody in this band forced impossible standards onto him.

Maybe it was because the others genuinely enjoyed music without turning it into competition.

Or… maybe it was simply because this piano itself felt different.

The glass body reflected light beautifully, almost unreal beneath the stage lamps, and every note that came from it sounded soft yet clear in a way Zanka had quietly grown attached to.

Without even realising it, he had started looking forward to practice.

The final chorus slowly came to an end, instruments easing into the closing notes before the room settled into silence. Gris lowered his baton with a satisfied smile.

“Alright everyone, thank you for your time today,” Gris announced warmly, clapping his hands together once as several students relaxed almost immediately.

The atmosphere shifted the moment practice ended. Chairs scraped lightly across the floor while instrument cases clicked shut and conversations quietly started around the room.

“Remember,” Gris continued while setting his baton down onto the music stand, “our performance is exactly next week, so please keep practising whenever you can at home. And as always, you’re allowed to use this room during free hours. You just need to stop by at my office if you need the keys.”

Everyone nodded while continuing to gather their belongings.

Gris glanced toward the drummer first. “Rudo, you did amazing today,” he said with an approving smile, “but try not to hit the drums too hard during the louder sections. Remember, you’re supporting the performance, not overpowering everyone else.”

Rudo’s cheeks immediately turned pink from embarrassment as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly before nodding. “Yeah… got it.”

Gris then shifted his attention toward the blond pair nearby. “Tamsy, Eisha, you two need to stay more in sync during the opening section,” he explained calmly. “It was slightly messy at the beginning, but after that, you both recovered really well.”

The two blondes exchanged glances before nodding in understanding.

Next, Gris turned toward the side where August, Riyo, and Guitar were sitting together, the three already laughing quietly amongst themselves before he had even spoken.

“You three did well too,” Gris said, though there was obvious amusement in his tone. “But stop rushing the tempo during Chorus 3. You were all speeding ahead of everyone else. Slow it down and control the pacing properly.”

That only caused the three of them to laugh harder while nodding at the same time.

Finally, Gris looked toward the back of the stage.

“And Zanka.”

Zanka immediately lifted his head and turned slightly in his seat, giving him his full attention.

“Your keys were excellent,” Gris said honestly. “There weren’t really any mistakes technically, and your timing was clean the entire way through.” He paused briefly before smiling a little softer.

“But I want you to put more feeling into it. You’re playing correctly, but you still sound too restrained. You’re not really letting yourself feel the music yet.”

Zanka flinched faintly at the comment.

A few amused chuckles came from the others in front of him, causing Zanka’s shoulders to tense slightly, but before the teasing could continue, Gris clapped his hands once more.

“Alright, enough,” he said firmly, though still smiling. “You’re all dismissed now. Go home and rest.”

Everyone slowly filtered out of the practice room, conversations overlapping as instrument cases knocked lightly against legs and shoulders.

The group walked together through the hallways, still talking about practice while heading toward the front of campus. Eventually, the larger group began separating one by one until only Zanka, Tamsy, and August were left walking together.

The three stepped outside into the open campus park where a large fountain sat near the centre, water glimmering beneath the afternoon light.

The entire area was crowded. Students were scattered across the grass with picnic blankets, textbooks, drinks, and laptops spread around them. Some sat beneath trees while others wandered between rows of colourful stalls lined up across the pathways.

To Zanka, it looked less like a campus activity and more like a festival.

The noise alone already made his head hurt.

Laughter echoed from every direction while music blasted from one of the booths nearby. Different clubs were yelling out promotions for their activities, trying to drag students over. Somewhere near the fountain, a group was singing loudly while others clapped along.

Zanka quietly regretted coming already.

“Wait,” Zanka said while looking between the two blondes beside him, brows furrowing slightly, “where exactly are we even goin’ again?”

August immediately spun around while still walking backwards, nearly bumping into someone behind him. “Oh! There’s this activity event thing happening outside today,” he explained excitedly while pointing ahead.

Yeah, I can clearly see that.

 “I gotta go find one of my mates from the fashion club and tell him something real quick.” He turned back around before he walked straight into another student.

Beside Zanka, Tamsy tapped his chin thoughtfully while scanning the rows of stalls. “I wonder if they have any crochet activities here,” he mumbled to himself.

Zanka blinked before slowly turning toward him. “You do crochet?”

Tamsy smiled almost immediately. “It’s a secret hobby,” he admitted calmly. “Only the band knows about it, though, so don’t go around telling random people.”

Then a grin slowly stretched across his face as he leaned slightly closer.

“That’s if you even have any friends outside the band.”

Zanka scoffed loudly in offence and rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

Tamsy only laughed quietly into the sleeve covering part of his mouth.

The three continued walking deeper into the crowded area. Students pushed past each other while voices blended into an endless wave of noise around them. Zanka glanced around cautiously, occasionally spotting club banners or random performances happening nearby, though nothing really caught his interest.

A few minutes later, Zanka suddenly realised the conversations beside him had disappeared.

He blinked.

Then looked to his left.

Nothing.

To his right.

Still nothing.

Zanka stopped walking completely and glanced around the crowd again, only now realising Tamsy and August were gone.

Where the hell did they go?

He frowned immediately, turning in slow circles while trying to spot either one of the blondes. Every second person on campus seemed to have blond hair today because every time Zanka thought he found them, it turned out to be someone else entirely.

Letting out a tired sigh, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, preparing to call one of them but before he could even unlock the screen, his shoulder suddenly slammed into something solid.

Zanka stumbled backwards from the impact, immediately glaring upward, only for his whole body to freeze.

Oh, for frick’s sake.

Jabber fricking Wonger.

Of all people.

Jabber stood there casually with a can of cola in one hand like he had absolutely nowhere important to be. He wore a grey zip-up hoodie layered over purple, loose white basketball shorts brushing against his knees. His locs were tied into a messy bun this time, though a few strands still framed parts of his face carelessly.

And annoyingly enough, Zanka hated how attractive the idiot looked.

Seriously. It was unfair.

Every attractive person always ended up being cocky, arrogant, or completely insufferable.

Jabber hadn’t smirked yet, surprisingly. Instead, he stood there quietly studying Zanka for a long moment, magenta eyes focused directly on his face.

Or more specifically his glasses.

Zanka’s jaw tightened instantly beneath the stare.

“If ya’ got somethin’ to say,” Zanka muttered coldly, “then say it.”

Jabber blinked once before a slow grin finally appeared across his face.

“Well damn,” he drawled, tilting his head slightly, “since when did you get new glasses, Mr. Bad Attitude? Thought you liked the pair I made for you.”

He leaned down slightly while speaking, clearly mocking Zanka’s height difference again.

Zanka’s brows furrowed harder. “You frickin’ broke ‘em, ya twat.”

“And stop callin’ me that,” he added sharply while stepping back slightly. “I got a name. Use it.”

Jabber straightened back up with a careless shrug. “Meh. Don’t really care about your name.”

That stupid grin widened again.

“Mr. Bad Attitude fits you better.”

Zanka stared at him in disbelief for a moment before scoffing under his breath. “Well, brainless cow suits you perfectly too, so goodbye.”

Without waiting for a response, Zanka brushed past him with his shoulder and tried walking away, only for a hand to suddenly grab onto his wrist.

Zanka was abruptly pulled backwards.

The force caught him completely off guard, causing him to stumble right back toward Jabber. His breath hitched slightly when he realised how close the athlete suddenly was again.

Way too close.

“You really like barkin’ back, huh?” Jabber murmured lowly.

His voice had lost most of its playful tone now. It was quieter. Sharper.

Zanka could feel his breath lightly brush against his skin, and it immediately made irritation crawl up his spine.

“If you seriously think fighting back against the Raiders is smart,” Jabber continued, fingers tightening around Zanka’s wrist, “then you’re even dumber than I thought.”

His grip tightened further.

“Especially while you’re stuck in that pathetic cleaner band, cleaner boy.”

Zanka felt a cold shiver crawl down his spine despite himself. Jabber’s tone wasn’t joking anymore. There was something tense underneath it now, something calculated that made the warning feel deliberate.

And Zanka hated the fact it actually affected him for half a second.

His brows narrowed immediately as he shoved Jabber backwards hard enough to force space between them again.

“Don’ touch me.” His blue eyes glared sharply at the taller athlete.

Jabber only looked amused.

“woah,” he muttered while biting lightly against his lip, eyes slowly scanning Zanka up and down in a way that made annoyance burn hotter in Zanka’s chest. “You really are feisty.”

Zanka looked disgusted. “And ya’ really are annoyin’.”

“Yeah?” Jabber chuckled softly. “Funny thing is, you still keep responding to me every single time.”

“That’s ‘cause ya keep harassin’ me every chance ya get.”

“Nah.” Jabber tilted his head lazily. “If I was actually harassing you, trust me, you’d know.”

Zanka’s expression darkened instantly.

God, this guy is unbearable!

Every word that came out of Jabber’s mouth sounded calculated somehow, like he purposely picked responses that would irritate people the most. He spoke so casually while pushing every button possible, then acted amused when someone reacted exactly the way he wanted.

It was manipulative and irritatingly effective.

Jabber took another slow sip from his cola without breaking eye contact. “You know,” he continued casually, “most people stop talking back after the first warning.”

“Well maybe I’m not most people because I ain’t a coward.”

“Oh, trust me.” Jabber smirked again. “I noticed.”

Zanka clicked his tongue in annoyance and crossed his arms tightly. “Yer’ honestly so full of yer’self.”

“And you act like you hate the attention,” Jabber replied immediately, “but every time I see you, you end up making a scene.”

Zanka stared at him in disbelief. “Excuse me? Ya’ literally start every problem.”

“Do I?”

“Hell yeah.”

Jabber hummed thoughtfully like he was genuinely considering it. “Maybe you’re just easy to mess with.”

Zanka’s glare sharpened instantly while irritation clawed further into his chest. “One day someone’s genuinely gonna punch ya’ in the face.”

“Maybe.” Jabber shrugged again carelessly. “But it won’t be you.”

The confidence in his voice made Zanka want to strangle him.

Jabber stepped slightly closer again, just enough to invade his space without actually touching him this time.

“You’re too controlled for that,” he murmured. “You get angry real easy, but you hold yourself back every single time. It’s kinda obvious.”

Zanka stiffened slightly as he stared at Jabber like Jabber caught something from him and that made Jabber noticed it immediately.

Of course he noticed.

That irritating smirk returned almost immediately, like he had just confirmed something important.

“See?” he said softly. “I’m right.”

With that, Jabber let out another low chuckle, clearly satisfied with himself, and didn’t even bother waiting to hear whatever response Zanka was about to throw back at him.

Instead, he casually shoved Zanka by the shoulder as he walked past him, hands sliding into the pockets of his hoodie like none of that conversation mattered at all.

The sudden force made Zanka stumble half a step backwards.

He immediately turned his head, glaring sharply at the taller athlete’s retreating figure while Jabber disappeared further into the crowd of students surrounding the activity stalls. Even from behind, the guy still carried himself with that same irritating confidence, like he owned every space he walked into.

Zanka’s fists slowly clenched at his sides.

“That little pig…” he muttered bitterly under his breath.

His jaw tightened while he continued staring in the direction Jabber disappeared. The irritation burning in his chest refused to settle down. If anything, it only got worse the more he replayed Jabber’s words in his head.

‘Holding yourself back.’

Zanka’s brows furrowed harder.

He hated that Jabber had noticed that.

Hated the way the athlete kept speaking like he could read straight through people whenever he wanted to. Every sentence felt intentional, like he purposely searched for weak spots just to press harder against them.

Zanka exhaled sharply through his nose before finally turning away from the crowd Jabber vanished into.

He immediately headed in the opposite direction, weaving through groups of students while pulling his phone back out. His thumb quickly tapped against the screen before unlocking it and selecting Tamsy’s contact.

The phone rang against his ear as he walked.

Around him, the campus event was still loud and chaotic. Music blasted from nearby stalls while people laughed and shouted over one another, but Zanka barely paid attention to any of it now.

His thoughts were still stuck on Jabber.

“That guy should be lucky I’ve been holdin’ back,” Zanka muttered quietly to himself while waiting for the call to connect.

His grip tightened slightly around the phone.

“Otherwise, his face wouldn’t even look the same anymore every time he checks the mirror.”

The call finally stopped ringing.

A second later, Tamsy’s voice came through the speaker.

“Hey, where were you?”

The next scene unfolded with far more chaos than Zanka had originally expected.

After inviting Tamsy and August over to his place, August had immediately volunteered to drive everyone there alongside Riyo and Rudo since Enjin was unable to pick them up that afternoon.

Zanka should start learning on how to drive one day...

At first, Zanka genuinely believed the three of them would spend the evening properly studying together, especially with assignments beginning to pile up alongside the band preparations. Looking back on it now, though, he realised he should have known better than to expect anything productive from August and Tamsy when they were together.

August was impossible to control. The blond had been distracting the trio from the moment they stepped into the house, constantly touching random things, moving around the room, and acting more like an excited child visiting an amusement park than someone who had come over to study.

Tamsy, on the other hand, kept drifting into his own world every few minutes, becoming fascinated by the smallest objects in Zanka’s room.

Zanka rubbed his forehead in frustration as he sat at his desk, his notes still barely touched.

“Guys, I thought we were gonna lock in tonight,” he groaned tiredly, turning around in his chair to glare at them both. “Lock the hell in, guys.”

Tamsy blinked innocently before letting out a soft laugh. “Oops, sorry. I just couldn’t help it. You have a really cute plushie in your room.”

He pointed toward the fluffy Siamese cat plush resting neatly near the side of Zanka’s bed.

The moment Zanka followed his gaze, his face immediately flushed pink with embarrassment.

“Dammit, I forgot to remove that before ya’ guys came in,” he muttered under his breath, clearly regretting everything.

“Honestly, I think it’s adorable,” Tamsy said cheerfully, clapping his hands together with zero shame.

“Just shut up, Tamsy,” Zanka grunted, trying to sound annoyed even while his embarrassment kept rising.

Before he could recover, he suddenly heard shuffling coming from the other side of the room. His eyes widened instantly.

“August! Do not touch that!”

Zanka immediately lunged forward as August stood beside his shelves, casually flipping through one of his manga volumes while also poking at several anime figurines lined up carefully across the shelf.

August quickly stepped back to avoid getting smacked while staring down at the open manga in confusion.

“Of course they’re in Japanese,” he shot back while carefully checking the pages for damage. “I’m Japanese!”

Tamsy burst out laughing from the bed.

“Well, no crap,” he replied sarcastically. “I thought you were American!”

August immediately lost it laughing beside him.

Zanka could only roll his eyes in annoyance while sliding the manga carefully back into place. “Ya’ guys seriously suck.”

“We love you too!” August and Tamsy replied at the exact same time. The pair even made heart shapes with their hands against their chests.

Zanka physically grimaced at the sight.

“Yuck,” he muttered. “Don’ ever do that again.”

Still shaking his head in disappointment, he gently adjusted the manga back into the shelf properly. Right as he finished fixing it, the sound of the doorknob twisting suddenly echoed through the room.

The bedroom door swung open.

Zanka turned immediately toward the entrance and saw Enjin standing there, still dressed in his police uniform as if he had only just returned home from work. His blond hair looked slightly messy from the long day, and exhaustion rested faintly across his features, though his expression softened the second he noticed the boys inside the room.

Enjin raised an eyebrow.

“Oh?” he said casually while glancing between the three boys. “Didn’t know we have visitors today.”

Zanka straightened slightly.

“Sorry,” he replied calmly. “I invited ‘em over so we could do some studyin’.”

As if they were actually studying.

Enjin smiled knowingly before turning toward the two blondes, who had suddenly become unnaturally stiff and polite. Their loud chaos from earlier had disappeared so quickly it almost looked painful.

“Well, hello you two,” Enjin greeted warmly. “I’m glad to see my boy ZanZan finally making friends, so I hope you guys have fun.”

August immediately nodded so hard it looked ridiculous.

“Oh yeah, definitely! Totally fine!”

Tamsy smiled politely beside him, “it’s also a pleasure meeting you.”

Enjin chuckled softly at their sudden change in behavior.

“Well then,” he said while stepping back toward the hallway, “have fun, ZanZan and make sure you don’t stay up all night studying again like you used to.”

The second that nickname left his mouth, Zanka felt his soul leave his body.

“Enjin…” he groaned quietly, face burning with embarrassment.

But before he could protest further, Enjin simply laughed quietly to himself and closed the bedroom door behind him, leaving the three boys alone again.

The moment the door clicked shut, silence completely filled the room.

A painfully awkward silence.

Zanka slowly turned around toward the two blondes, only to find both of them already staring directly at him.

August looked like he was trying not to laugh.

Tamsy looked like he had just discovered priceless information.

The silence stretched so long it almost became unbearable, the faint sound of crickets outside somehow making everything even worse.

Eventually, Tamsy was the first one to break.

“So…” he began slowly, glancing toward August before looking back at Zanka. “Can we discuss how Zanka’s father is actually a hot daddy?”

August immediately snorted so hard he nearly choked on his own laughter.

Zanka stared at Tamsy with the most horrified expression imaginable.

“Oh my gosh, Tamsy…”

“What?” Tamsy replied innocently.

“Bro, forget about Zanka’s dad,” August wheezed through laughter. “Can we talk about the fact that he calls him ‘ZanZan’? That’s actually adorable.”

Zanka felt his embarrassment skyrocket instantly.

His shoulders tensed violently as he stared at August in complete disbelief while the blond continued cackling.

At that point, the humiliation and irritation building in his chest finally reached its limit. Without hesitation, Zanka swung his hand and smacked August hard across the back.

“AUGH-!” August instantly winced from the hit and toppled dramatically off the bed, crashing straight onto the floor while clutching his back in pain.

“If ya’ ever try callin’ me that in public, I will seriously whoop yer’ ass.”

Zanka narrowed his eyes sharply as he glared down at August, who was still sprawled dramatically across the floor after getting smacked off the bed earlier. The warning in his tone was flat and serious enough to make it clear he was not joking around.

August only pouted in response while rubbing the sore spot on his back where Zanka had hit him.

But then, almost immediately, his expression lit up again with that same annoying grin.

“Wait…” August said slowly, eyes widening with excitement. “Does that mean I can call you that?”

Before Zanka could even process what he meant, August suddenly pushed himself off the floor and leaned forward into Zanka’s personal space so quickly that Zanka physically flinched backward in surprise.

“You never said I wasn’t allowed to say it,” August sang teasingly before sticking his tongue out childishly.

Zanka stared at him in complete disbelief.

Sometimes he genuinely wondered how someone could act this ridiculous twenty-four seven without getting tired.

“Still,” Zanka replied flatly while deadpanning at him, “shut up.”

August immediately frowned dramatically like he had just been deeply wounded. He threw himself backward onto Zanka’s bed, making the mattress dip beneath his weight while the sheets crinkled loudly underneath him.

“I’m bored,” he whined while rolling around against the blankets like an overgrown child.

Tamsy let out a quiet laugh from beside the desk.

“We barely even started studying,” he pointed out amusedly. “How are you already bored?”

August rolled over onto his stomach and buried half his face into the mattress with another dramatic groan.

“Because studying is boring,” he complained. “And besides, exams aren’t even until a few more weeks from now.”

Zanka scoffed while adjusting the sleeves of his hoodie.

“That’s exactly why you study early,” he replied. “So you don’t end up panicking later.”

August rolled his eyes lazily.

“Whatever…”

He let out another long sigh before resting his chin against the mattress. For a moment, he stayed oddly quiet, clearly thinking about something while the room settled into a calmer atmosphere.

Then suddenly, his head lifted.

A grin spread across his face again.

“Yo!” August sat upright instantly. “Let’s go do something!”

Tamsy blinked.

Zanka immediately looked suspicious.

The two blondes exchanged glances before slowly turning toward August, who looked way too excited for whatever idea had just entered his brain.

“We should go out somewhere and hang out,” August said while nudging his elbow repeatedly against Zanka’s knee. “Y’know? Like normal people?”

Zanka stared at him with complete disbelief.

“No.”

August looked genuinely betrayed.

“Why?!” he complained loudly. “Come on, please!”

He dragged the last word out dramatically like a whining child begging for candy.

Zanka only rolled his eyes and leaned back against his chair, already exhausted from the conversation.

Honestly, dealing with Jabber earlier had somehow been less mentally draining than dealing with August for several hours straight.

“Please, ZanZan,” August whined again without shame. “Don’t be such a party pooper, yo.”

Tamsy immediately snorted into laughter the second he heard the nickname again.

Meanwhile, Zanka felt irritation instantly return to his chest.

His eye twitched slightly.

The fact that August had already gotten comfortable enough to use that nickname so casually genuinely made him regret introducing the two of them to Enjin in the first place.

Zanka narrowed his eyes at him dangerously.

He seriously needed to make sure August never said that nickname out loud in public.

As the three of them stepped outside, the cold night air immediately rushed against their skin. A strong breeze swept past the street hard enough to make all three of them shiver slightly as the chill settled into their clothes.

“Damn, it’s so cold!” August complained instantly while rubbing both hands up and down his arms dramatically.

Zanka glanced at him from the side with an unimpressed expression.

“And yet yer’ still wearin’ those shades like it’s the middle of summer,” he pointed out while raising an eyebrow.

Tamsy let out a quiet sneeze before pulling his sleeves further over his hands for warmth.

The three continued walking down the sidewalk together while the night carried on around them. Cars sped past the roads nearby, headlights glowing against the dark streets, while groups of people wandered around the city laughing and chatting among themselves. The streetlights reflected faintly against the pavement from the rain earlier that evening, making the roads shimmer softly underneath the city glow.

August and Tamsy quickly fell back into another conversation, talking loudly between themselves while laughing over something Zanka honestly stopped paying attention to after the first few seconds.

Meanwhile, Zanka stayed beside them quietly, one hand tucked into the pocket of his sweater while the other scrolled absentmindedly through his phone.

The warmth from his oversized sweater helped a little against the cold, so he tugged the sleeves lower over his hands while listening to the distant noise of the city around them.

At some point, the three of them had started discussing where they should go eat.

Then Zanka heard it.

A familiar sound echoed faintly from somewhere further down the street.

Music but not just any music either.

The heavy bass, the layered R&B beat mixed with rough rapping vocals, the loud atmosphere carrying through the cold air, Zanka recognised that sound immediately.

His footsteps started to slow down its pace and then he stopped completely.

August and Tamsy both noticed almost instantly when Zanka suddenly froze behind them.

The two turned around.

“Hey?” August called while lowering his sunglasses slightly despite it literally being nighttime. “ZanZan?”

There was a faint concern in his voice now.

Tamsy tilted his head in confusion beside him, letting out a small questioning hum.

But Zanka barely reacted.

For a brief moment, his thoughts drifted elsewhere entirely.

Back toward Jabber.

Toward that irritating smirk.

Toward the mocking tone in his voice.

Toward the way he constantly pushed and provoked people just to get reactions out of them.

Zanka could still hear those words in the back of his mind, lingering there in a way that annoyed him more than he wanted to admit. It irritated him that Jabber somehow kept forcing his way into Zanka’s thoughts even when he was nowhere around.

And honestly?

That irritation was slowly turning into something reckless.

Zanka’s eyes shifted toward the direction where the music was coming from. The distant noise echoed louder between the streets now.

Then slowly, the corner of his mouth curled upward into a faint smirk.

He finally glanced back toward Tamsy and August.

“I have an idea.”

How ironic for someone who despises musicians that literally plays music for their silly game play.

The trio eventually arrived at Jabber’s game night, stopping near the tall metal fence that overlooked the court below. From where they stood, they had a perfect view of everything happening underneath without needing to push themselves into the crowd.

And luckily for them, all three of them had come wearing hoodies.

The dim lighting, mixed with the large crowd and the shadows cast from the surrounding buildings, made it difficult for anyone to properly recognise their faces. Their hoods stayed low enough to hide most of their features, which meant neither the Raiders nor Jabber himself would easily notice them watching from above.

The moment August looked down toward the court, his eyes immediately sparkled.

“Damn…” he breathed out in disbelief. “This is…”

“Jabber’s game night,” Tamsy finished for him quietly, sounding strangely entertained by the entire atmosphere. “Wowiee…”

The place was loud.

Way louder than Zanka had saw weeks ago.

Bright lights had been set up around the basketball court, casting sharp beams across the concrete while music blasted loudly through giant speakers nearby.

The entire place felt chaotic in a way that almost didn’t seem real.

Crowds surrounded the court from every direction, people yelling over one another while whistles, laughter, cheering, and loud music blended together into one overwhelming noise.

Zanka rested his arms against the fence slightly as his eyes focused down toward the court.

And there he was.

Jabber.

The athlete moved across the court effortlessly, dribbling the basketball with sharp control while facing another player head-on. His movements were ridiculously fast, smooth enough to look almost careless. The ball bounced rapidly against the concrete as Jabber suddenly shifted directions, making the opposing player stumble awkwardly over his own footing.

The guy completely lost balance and crashed onto the ground.

An ankle breaker.

Jabber laughed immediately.

“Make sure you stand on your feet!”

The crowd burst into laughter alongside him.

Before the other player could even properly recover, Jabber sprinted toward the hoop and jumped high enough to slam the ball directly through the net with a loud dunk that echoed through the entire court.

The crowd exploded.

Whistles pierced through the air while people shouted loudly from every direction. Some cheered his name repeatedly while others yelled things Zanka could barely make out through the noise.

Though one name stood out clearly.

“Mankira!”

Zanka furrowed his brows slightly.

The hell is Mankira?

Down below, Jabber only grinned wider at the reactions around him while someone from the crowd tossed the basketball back his way. He caught it effortlessly with one hand before lazily spinning it against his finger like it weighed nothing.

Zanka clicked his tongue quietly under his breath.

That stupid grin again.

Then suddenly, a loud high-pitched voice screeched from somewhere nearby the benches.

“WOOOO!! YESSS JABBER!!”

The voice was so loud it nearly made Zanka flinch.

He looked around briefly before finally spotting the source of the noise further below near the sidelines. Tamsy caught on almost immediately and hummed in recognition.

“Ahh,” he muttered while pointing downward casually, “I recognise that annoying rat voice.”

Zanka leaned slightly closer against the fence to get a clearer look.

And there she was.

Amo Empool.

Or at least, Zanka was pretty sure that was her name.

The cheerleader captain sat near the benches while loudly cheering Jabber on with way too much excitement, practically acting like some overly supportive sibling at a professional game.

Zanka stared at her for a moment.

He remembered hearing Rudo complain about her before.

There had been one afternoon after campus when Enjin had picked them up, and Rudo spent almost the entire ride home grumbling about some girl bothering him nonstop just because he didn’t think she was cute and preferred hanging around girls like Guita instead.

Zanka’s brows furrowed further.

Yeah.

He definitely didn’t like her.

Especially not after hearing how much she annoyed his little brother.

The three musicians continued watching the game from above while the atmosphere below only grew louder and more chaotic with every passing minute.

And the more Zanka observed the place, the more he started noticing things beyond just the basketball game itself.

Toward the back of the crowd, several rough-looking punks were gathered around folding tables, aggressively handing cash back and forth between one another. Some people cursed loudly while snatching bills out of other people’s hands, clearly irritated after losing money.

Other tables were covered with chips, drinks, cards, and betting sheets.

People were gambling.

Betting on who would win.

Zanka narrowed his eyes slightly while taking in the scene below.

So Tamsy really hadn’t been exaggerating earlier.

As the night dragged on, the games only became more intense. One after another, different players stepped onto the court to challenge Jabber, yet every single round ended the same way with him winning effortlessly.

Sometimes he would face two people at once, sometimes even three, and somehow, he still managed to dominate the entire court like it belonged to him alone.

Zanka hated how naturally talented he looked while doing it.

Every movement Jabber made was smooth, quick, and annoyingly controlled, as though basketball had been built specifically for him.

The way he dribbled the ball, the way he moved around people like they were standing still, the way the crowd screamed his name every time he scored the hoop, it irritated Zanka more than it should have.

Because there was nothing bad about his skill.

Nothing sloppy. Nothing weak. Nothing to criticize.

The only terrible thing about Jabber was his personality.

And somehow that made it even worse.

Zanka’s jaw tightened as he stared through the fence, fingers curling tighter around the metal wires until they pressed harshly against his skin. The louder the crowd became, the more irritated he felt watching Jabber grin like some untouchable king ruling over the court.

It was unfair.

So unbelievably unfair…

Zanka could feel frustration burning hot inside his chest, building higher and higher until he suddenly snapped his head toward August beside him.

“August,” he said flatly, voice low but serious, “I’ll give ya’ $200 if you call the cops on ‘em.”

August froze instantly. His eyes widened behind his shades as he slowly turned toward Zanka, nearly letting the sunglasses slip down his nose.

“W-Wait… seriously?” he asked, stunned. “For that much money?”

Zanka immediately grabbed his shoulder with a firm grip.

“Too cheap?” he asked without hesitation. “Okay, what ‘bout $500?”

“Yo, wait- ” August sputtered, completely caught off guard. “I didn’t mean it like that but $200 just for me calling the cops on them?” He paused for barely a second before grinning. “You’re overpricing it dude but hell yeah, deal!”

Tamsy looked genuinely horrified by how quickly August agreed. He immediately grabbed onto Zanka’s shoulder and forced him to turn his way.

“Zanka,” Tamsy said sharply, worry obvious in his eyes, “what did I tell you? That is ridiculously risky. If the Raiders find out you’re the one who snitched on them, they are never going to leave you alone.”

For a moment, Zanka hesitated.

The warning sat heavily in his chest, but the irritation bubbling inside him refused to die down.

“Exactly,” Zanka muttered, folding his arms tightly.

“That’s if they find out it was me. They won’t haunt me around in campus if they found out it was me who snitched on ‘em. They would probably assume the cops had found ‘em.” Zanka said but he continued, “And honestly, with how loud this place is, they’re dumb if they think nobody would notice this eventually.”

Tamsy paused for a second, thinking it over before shrugging slightly.

“True,” he admitted, though he still looked uneasy. “But this still feels risky…”

“That’s okay!” August announced proudly while already pulling out his phone. “I’m calling the police!”

Zanka couldn’t help the faint, almost devilish smile tugging at the corner of his lips while Tamsy stared at the both of them in disbelief.

“Oh my god,” Tamsy muttered, rubbing his forehead. “I really hope we don’t get caught.”

“We won’t,” Zanka replied quietly as he leaned closer against the fence again, eyes dropping back toward the court below.

Still, Tamsy frowned thoughtfully before pointing toward the court.

“Honestly, though… I don’t think the cops would even get here in time,” he said. “Look.”

Zanka followed where he pointed.

Tamsy was right.

The energy on the court had started dying down. Some people were already gathering their things while others moved away from the benches. Even Jabber himself no longer looked particularly interested in continuing. There weren’t many challengers left, and the excitement from earlier had slowly started fading.

“Jabber looks like he’s done for the night,” Tamsy continued, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “He doesn’t even seem motivated anymore.”

Zanka let out a quiet hum while staring down at the court again. Beside him, August was already speaking into the phone, explaining the location to the police while trying not to sound suspicious.

Zanka’s attention drifted between August, the crowd, and Jabber himself.

Ideas kept flashing through his head one after another, but none of them felt useful. None of them felt enough.

He stood there silently for what felt like forever, gripping the fence while his thoughts tangled together. Tamsy was probably right. By the time the police arrived, the entire event would already be over. Everyone would disappear before anything even happened.

But then..

Zanka froze as his eyes locked onto a familiar pair of glowing magenta eyes staring directly at him from below.

His breath caught in his throat instantly.

Jabber had spotted him.

The noise around the court suddenly felt distant as Zanka found himself trapped under that stare again, those sharp pink-magenta eyes looking straight through him like they always did.

Crap.

Jabber had completely stopped moving. His body stilled in the middle of the court as though something had caught his attention so suddenly that everything else no longer mattered.

And then Zanka realized something even worse.

Because of the lighting, Jabber could only really see him. Tamsy and August remained hidden further back in the darkness, barely visible behind him.

Meaning Jabber thought Zanka came here alone.

Zanka felt his stomach drop violently.

He is so cooked.

The tension stretched heavily between them despite the distance. Jabber simply stared for a moment longer before a slow grin spread across his face.

Not just a grin either, that dangerous kind of smirk that immediately told Zanka he was planning something stupid.

Something awful.

Jabber suddenly spun around toward the crowd, lifting one arm high while the basketball rested casually in his other hand.

“Yo!” he shouted loudly. “Hold up, guys! Night’s not over yet!”

The crowd erupted almost immediately, whistles and cheers exploding around the court once more.

“We got one more round!” Jabber announced.

The audience roared excitedly at the sudden announcement, instantly gathering back toward the court with renewed energy.

Tamsy blinked in confusion.

“What is he doing?” he whispered.

Zanka swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes off Jabber.

“I… I don’ know…” he admitted quietly.

But deep down, he had a horrible feeling he already did something that convinced Jabber to make a terrible idea.

Down on the court, Jabber suddenly raised both of his hands high into the air, easily drawing the crowd’s attention back toward him.

The loud music continued blasting through the speakers while people cheered, whistled, and shouted from every direction around the court. The lights reflected against the chains around his neck and the sweat along his skin as he spun the basketball lazily on one finger like he had all the confidence in the world.

“Sorry, y’all!” Jabber called out with a grin, his voice echoing through the court. “Just realized we got a special round tonight.”

The audience immediately reacted with excitement, loud whistles erupting through the night while others shouted in confusion, curious to see what he meant.

Zanka’s brows slowly furrowed while staring down at the tan athlete from above.

Something about the look on Jabber’s face made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

“So listen up,” Jabber continued smoothly while spinning around beneath the lights. “We got ourselves a special guest tonight who’s gonna compete against me for the final round.”

And then his magenta eyes lifted upward.

Straight toward Zanka and Jabber let out a knowingly smirk as the crowd erupted even louder around him.

Zanka immediately felt his stomach drop.

No.

Absolutely not.

Beside him, Tamsy quickly caught on after noticing where Jabber was staring. His expression immediately shifted into concern as he turned toward Zanka.

“Wait-! Zanka-”

But before he could finish, a harsh white spotlight suddenly flashed upward toward the fence.

The light hit Zanka directly.

Everything froze.

The brightness swallowed him whole, exposing him instantly against the darkness while hundreds of heads below tilted upward to stare directly at him.

“Everyone!” Jabber shouted dramatically while pointing upward toward the fence. “Meet my friend, Mr. Bad Attitude! The cleaner boy!”

The crowd burst into loud laughter and cheering almost immediately, while whistles and mocking noises echoed throughout the court and people began craning their necks for a better look at the person trapped beneath the spotlight.

Zanka froze completely.

The second that bright light hit him, his body locked up so suddenly that even breathing became difficult, because the harsh spotlight burning against his face felt horrifyingly familiar in a way that made panic crawl violently up his spine.

For one terrible moment, the basketball court no longer felt real to him anymore.

Instead, all he could see were those tournament lights from years ago, blinding him from above while the crowd stared down at him from every angle possible, watching his every movement with expectation and pressure so overwhelming that it still haunted him long after the injury itself healed.

He could almost hear the sharp whistle from the referee again, almost feel the rough texture of the mat against his skin after collapsing, almost hear the sickening crack from his ankle twisting the wrong way while the audience gasped around him.

Zanka’s breathing immediately became uneven while panic crashed into him all at once, because everywhere he looked now there were eyes staring directly at him again, hundreds of them focused on him so intensely that it made his stomach churn violently.

The noise around the court began blending together into distorted echoes inside his head, and suddenly the laughter from the crowd no longer sounded like normal laughter anymore because it reminded him too much of the whispers from the tournament, the pitying stares, the judgment, the humiliation, the disappointment he saw on his father’s face while laying injured in front of everyone.

His body instinctively stepped backward, but his legs suddenly felt weak beneath him while nausea twisted painfully through his stomach hard enough to make him feel like he might actually vomit.

Sweat began forming across his forehead despite the cold night air, and his chest tightened so painfully that every breath felt sharp and wrong.

“Hey…?” Tamsy said carefully after noticing how pale he suddenly looked. “Zanka, are you okay?”

But Zanka barely heard him anymore, because the spotlight above him felt suffocating and the noise around him kept growing louder and louder until the voices around the court started overlapping inside his head in a way that made him feel trapped.

Then his eyes landed on Jabber again.

Jabber was still standing in the center of the court beneath all those lights, still grinning up at him like this entire thing was entertaining to him, while casually bouncing the basketball against the concrete as though he had already decided the outcome of everything before Zanka even got the chance to react.

“C’mon, Mr. Bad Attitude!” Jabber shouted loudly while motioning him downward toward the court. “Get down here already!”

The crowd laughed again, louder this time.

“Don’t be shy,” Jabber added mockingly, chuckling underneath his breath while staring directly at him. “We won’t bite, alright?”

More laughter exploded throughout the court immediately afterward, and Zanka could physically feel his hands trembling now while his fists clenched so tightly that his nails dug painfully into his palms.

For one brief second, anger surged through him hard enough that he genuinely wanted to jump over the fence, sprint down there, and wipe that stupid smirk off Jabber’s face himself.

But the fear hit harder.

Because the second Zanka realized what Jabber was actually trying to do was not to humiliate him, panic completely swallowed him whole.

Jabber wanted him on that court.

Jabber wanted him to play.

And Zanka couldn’t.

Because of his ankle.

The thought alone made his chest tighten even more painfully while his eyes instinctively flickered downward toward his ankle, because the memory of that injury still lived inside his body no matter how much time had passed.

He could still remember the burning pain shooting through his leg after landing wrong, still remember collapsing in front of everyone while the crowd stared at him, still remember the humiliation of realizing he could no longer continue doing the thing he loved most without fear destroying him first.

His breathing became shakier and shakier while his thoughts spiraled completely out of control, because all he could think about now was what would happen if he stepped onto that court and his ankle gave out again in front of everyone.

What if he collapsed again?

What if everyone stared again?

 What if he embarrassed himself again?

What if he couldn’t move properly again?

Zanka swallowed harshly, but the nausea only worsened until his stomach twisted so violently that it physically hurt.

Seeing the state he was falling into, Tamsy immediately grabbed onto him and pulled him backward out of the spotlight before his legs completely gave out beneath him, and the second the harsh light disappeared from his body, Zanka collapsed onto his knees against the concrete hidden behind the shadows while struggling desperately to breathe properly.

“Zanka!” Tamsy huffed while kneeling beside him, panic beginning to creep into his voice. “Hey, look at me, you good?”

But Zanka couldn’t answer him.

His breathing had completely lost control now, uneven gasps ripping out of his chest while his entire body trembled violently beneath his hoodie, and the pain tightening around his chest felt so suffocating that he clawed desperately at the fabric near his collar like he physically could not get enough air into his lungs no matter how hard he tried.

Sweat rolled down the side of his face while tears burned at the corners of his eyes without him even realizing he was crying.

August rushed over immediately after finally noticing what had happened, his expression immediately shifting into panic the second he saw Zanka struggling to breathe on the ground.

“Wait, what happened?!” August asked frantically while crouching beside them. “I looked away for one second and then the spotlight caught him-”

He stopped speaking the moment he properly looked at Zanka.

“Zanka, breathe,” August said quickly while rubbing his back, his voice growing more panicked himself. “Seriously, breathe.”

Tamsy grabbed onto Zanka’s shoulder gently while trying to keep him grounded, but Zanka could barely hear either of them anymore because everything around him sounded distant and distorted beneath the violent pounding of his heartbeat inside his ears.

His vision blurred worse and worse by the second while the lights outside the shadows stretched strangely in his eyes, and the sounds from the court melted together into unbearable noise inside his head until it genuinely felt like the tournament all over again.

His body shook harder while his breathing became more broken and desperate, because no matter how hard he tried to calm himself down, he physically could not stop the panic swallowing him whole.

Somewhere far off in the distance, police sirens finally began echoing through the streets, but the sound barely registered in his mind anymore while darkness slowly crept into the edges of his vision.

Tamsy and August’s voices sounded faint now, almost impossible to understand beneath the ringing inside his ears while his body slumped weaker and weaker forward against the ground.

And before Zanka could even process anything else around him anymore, his eyelids finally gave out beneath the overwhelming exhaustion and panic consuming him, and everything around him disappeared into darkness completely.

After what happened that night, Zanka barely remembered anything clearly afterward. Everything after the panic attack near the basketball court felt distorted and fragmented in his mind, as if his memories had been ripped apart and scattered too far for him to properly piece together again.

The next morning, Zanka woke up in his own bed with Rudo and Riyo beside him, both of them clinging onto him after realising he was finally awake. T

hey had genuinely believed something terrible happened to him, and the relief on their faces was painfully obvious.

The situation itself only made Zanka feel even more guilty for worrying everyone around him.

Things did not exactly go smoothly afterward either, especially when Enjin pulled him aside before driving everyone to campus that morning.

 The older man remained overly protective and visibly worried after hearing about what happened, while Zanka kept brushing it off and insisting that he could handle things on his own. No matter how much Enjin tried pressing him about it, Zanka stubbornly pushed the concern away, refusing to admit just how badly the incident affected him.

Things did not exactly go smoothly afterward either, especially when Enjin pulled him aside before driving everyone to campus that morning. The older man remained overly protective and visibly worried after hearing about what happened, while Zanka kept brushing it off and insisting that he could handle things on his own. No matter how much Enjin tried pressing him about it, Zanka stubbornly pushed the concern away, refusing to admit just how badly the incident affected him.

Thankfully, Tamsy and August kept the entire situation private.

Neither of them told the others what happened at the court, and they never once brought it up around the rest of the band either. Zanka appreciated that more than he could properly express because the last thing he wanted was for people to look at him differently or pity him after seeing him completely lose control like that.

Eventually, after a lot of hesitation, Zanka finally opened up to the two of them about his past and how deeply everything still affected him even now.

He explained the injury, the tournaments, the pressure, and the anxiety that continued following him years later no matter how much he tried burying it away.

Both Tamsy and August were shocked to find out that Zanka used to be an athlete, especially one who had once been deeply passionate about martial arts before everything was taken away from him.

Still, neither of them judged him for it.

Instead, they listened carefully, respected his boundaries, and comforted him in a way Zanka honestly had never experienced before outside of his family.

And honestly, that realisation alone made him feel strangely relieved.

Later that afternoon, the band gathered once again inside the practice room for another rehearsal session.

Gris remained just as serious about practice as always, carefully guiding everyone through the performance while making sure each member stayed focused on their timing, coordination, and control.

The room quickly filled with layered melodies and instruments blending together smoothly beneath Gris’ direction, his baton moving gracefully through the air while he controlled the flow of the music with practiced precision.

Over time, Zanka found himself slowly developing more and more respect for Gris.

Not only because the older man gave him the glasses after Jabber broke his old pair, but because of the way he treated everyone around him.

Gris carried this calm patience and warmth that made people naturally feel comfortable around him, and he always seemed to understand others without making them feel judged or pressured.

Eventually, after rehearsal finally ended, everyone began packing their instruments and preparing to leave for the day.

“Alright everyone, thank you for your hard work today!” Gris announced warmly while lowering his baton with a smile. “Remember to keep practicing the notes I pointed out because the performance is exactly next week, and I want everyone fully prepared before then.”

The group nodded while gathering their belongings.

“And for the Akuta siblings,” Gris continued while pulling out his phone, “I still need your numbers so I can send over the updated keys later tonight.”

The three siblings exchanged numbers with him, and only a few seconds later, Zanka felt his phone vibrate inside his pocket. He pulled it out and unlocked the screen, only to immediately furrow his brows at the sight of a newly created group chat.

The Cleaners

Zanka stared at the title for a long second before lifting his gaze toward Gris.

“Seriously? Yer’ actually gonna call ta’ group ‘The Cleaners’?” Zanka said flatly.

Gris laughed instantly at the reaction. “If I’m being honest, it’s actually kind of a cool name.”

“Oh yeah! I gotchu, Gris, I see your vision,” Riyo immediately agreed while high-fiving the conductor enthusiastically.

Nearby, Guita remained intensely focused on her phone screen while rapidly tapping away without even paying attention to the others around her.

Rudo glanced at her strangely. “Why are you staring at your phone like your life depends on it?”

“Shush,” Guita muttered while continuing to tap furiously. “I’m in the middle of the final battle against the Godzilla God.”

“Jeez,” Rudo scoffed. “You’re in college and still playing games? Go live a life.”

Zanka smirked slightly from beside him. “I wouldn’t be talkin’ when ya’ literally cry over sweets.”

Rudo immediately shot him an offended glare.

Right before he could argue back, Zanka heard Gris calling his name from nearby.

“Hey, Zanka. May I have a quick word with you?”

Zanka paused for a moment before walking over toward him slowly. “Yeah?”

Gris cleared his throat lightly before speaking again.

“Hey... um, I have a question.”

Zanka gave him a slightly confused look. “Go on.”

Gris adjusted his grip on the baton before continuing carefully.

“So, during the performance, there’s supposed to be a special stage transition scene after the band finishes performing, and we planned on having a piano solo during that part.” Gris paused briefly before looking directly at him.

“I was wondering if you’d be willing to do it.”

Zanka hesitated almost immediately.

“When you say solo...” he started quietly, “do you mean I’ll be performing alone?”

Gris nodded. “Correct, but only if you want to.”

The moment those words settled into his head, Zanka felt his stomach tighten uncomfortably.

A stage.

Spotlights.

People staring directly at him.

The memory of the basketball court suddenly flashed through his mind again so vividly that it made his chest feel tight for a moment.

Zanka rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before glancing away.

“Can it be someone else instead?” he asked quietly. “Like Eisha? She’s really good at violin.”

“She’s incredibly talented,” Gris admitted calmly, “but the lack of confidence makes solo performances difficult for her, and this particular scene was specifically written for piano.”

Zanka shifted uncomfortably where he stood.

He already knew he could not do it.

Not alone.

Not with an entire audience staring directly at him.

Not after what happened the night before.

He lowered his gaze toward the floor before quietly speaking again.

“Sorry... but I don’ think I can do the solo part.”

Gris remained silent for a brief moment before his expression softened gently.

“That’s alright,” he said warmly before lightly patting Zanka on the head.

Zanka flinched slightly from the unexpected touch.

“I’m glad you were honest with me,” Gris continued calmly. “There’s no pressure.”

Zanka slowly glanced up at him through his gold-rimmed glasses before giving a small nod in response.

Gris smiled softly before turning back toward the rest of the group again.

“Alright everyone!” he called out cheerfully. “Get home safe unless you’re living in the dorms! See you all tomorrow!”

Eisha and Riyo exchanged one last hug before the blonde violinist finally walked off toward the opposite side of campus.

The rest of the group slowly began separating as well, each member heading their own way while conversations faded into the background beneath the warm evening atmosphere.

Guita casually tossed a lollipop toward Rudo before leaving, clearly remembering she forgot to give it to him earlier to give it to him during break.

Rudo caught it effortlessly with one hand without even looking, immediately shoving it his mouth while muttering a quiet thanks beneath his breath.

The three siblings barely made it farther past the entrance gates before an obnoxiously loud car horn suddenly blasted through the entire front area of campus.

The sharp beep immediately caught the attention of nearby students, making multiple heads turn toward the entrance.

Zanka physically cringed.

His shoulders immediately hunched inward as if he could somehow shrink himself out of existence before anyone recognised him. Unfortunately for him, the familiar black car pulling up near the gates only confirmed exactly who it was.

Enjin rolled down the driver’s window with loud R&B music practically shaking the entire vehicle. Black shades covered his eyes while one arm rested casually against the side of the door like he genuinely believed he looked cool doing this.

“Sup, gang,” Enjin grinned confidently.

Zanka stared at him with complete disbelief.

“I hope y’know, Enjin,” Zanka muttered flatly, “ya’ not that cool.”

Riyo immediately snorted into laughter while Rudo simply blinked blankly at the interaction like he was too tired to even react properly anymore.

Enjin frowned dramatically from the driver’s seat.

Before he could defend himself, a familiar female laugh suddenly came from the passenger side.

“See? Even Zanka gets me,” the voice laughed. “You are not trying to aurafarm right now.”

Semiu leaned forward from the passenger seat, peeking around Enjin with an amused grin resting on her face.

The moment the three siblings recognised her, their expressions immediately brightened.

“Aunt Semiu!” Riyo practically squealed before rushing around the car and nearly climbing through the open passenger window just to hug her.

“I missed you, girl!”

“Yeah, yeah, I missed you too,” Semiu laughed while hugging her back. “Has Enjin been taking good care of you guys?”

Riyo nodded immediately while Rudo already climbed into the backseat without hesitation. Beside him, Zanka opened the door before tossing his bag inside afterward.

Enjin shot Semiu an offended look.

“Hey,” he complained, “you’re supposed to ask me if my kids are doing good.”

Semiu rested both arms behind her head lazily while glancing at him sideways.

“In my head,” she hummed casually, “you still act like a childish teenage boy.”

“Huh?!” Enjin snapped instantly. “What do you mean by that?!”

Riyo laughed loudly from the passenger side while Zanka climbed into the car beside Rudo, only to immediately wince when the music blasted even louder the moment the doors closed.

Several students outside were still openly staring at the car now.

Semiu rested both arms behind her head lazily while glancing at him sideways.

“In my head,” she hummed casually, “you still act like a childish teenage boy.”

“Huh?!” Enjin snapped instantly. “What do you mean by that?!”

Riyo laughed loudly from the passenger side while Zanka climbed into the car beside Rudo, only to immediately wince when the music blasted even louder the moment the doors closed.

Several students outside were still openly staring at the car now.

“Enjin,” he muttered tiredly while rubbing his forehead, “please hurry up ‘n drive.”

Riyo laughed again while climbing into the car from the other side, forcing Rudo into the middle seat in the process.

“Yeah, Enjin,” Semiu added while smacking his shoulder hard enough to make him flinch. “You heard what Zanka said. Let’s move already.”

“Ow!” Enjin winced dramatically before rubbing his arm. “You still got that violent high school attitude, huh?”

Semiu rolled her eyes.

“Oh honey,” she replied smugly, “I’m still in my prime.”

Enjin snorted a laugh at that before finally lowering the music volume, which instantly relieved Zanka more than he wanted to admit.

“Anyways,” Enjin said while glancing at the kids through the mirror, “how was campus today?”

Then his gaze shifted toward Zanka specifically.

“You still okay, ZanZan?”

Zanka paused briefly before giving a slow nod.

Semiu immediately noticed the slight tension in the atmosphere.

“Did something happen?” she asked while raising a brow curiously.

Enjin only waved it off casually.

“Just some stuff happened at campus involving Zanka,” he said vaguely before offering a weak smile.

Semiu hummed quietly but did not push further.

“Oh right, I heard you guys joined the Ground Giver University band group.” She looked toward the siblings with interest. “How’s that going?”

Riyo answered almost immediately.

“It’s great! Our performance is in about a week, so you should totally come watch with Enjin!”

Semiu smiled faintly.

“I would,” she admitted, “but I wouldn’t wanna go with this stupid man. He makes me feel like I’m the mother here.”

Enjin scoff a laugh, “oh trust me “ he pulled with a flashy grin on his face, “I would’ve take you out anyway if I didn’t know you were into women.”

Semiu burst out laughing while Riyo snickered from beside her.

Zanka quietly watched the interaction from the backseat.

He still remembered the story behind their relationship. Back then, Semiu and Enjin dated for a short time during high school before Semiu eventually realised men simply were not for her. Instead of reacting badly, Enjin respected it completely, and somehow the two still stayed incredibly close afterward.

Honestly, their friendship sometimes made more sense than an actual relationship ever would.

Enjin finally adjusted himself properly in the driver’s seat before preparing to leave.

“Alright guys, let’s gooooOOOWOAH.” His sentence abruptly cut off.

Everyone blinked in confusion when Enjin suddenly froze while staring out the window with his jaw slightly dropped.

Semiu frowned immediately.

“Yo, what?” she said while looking at him strangely.

Enjin kept staring outside like he had just witnessed something life-changing.

“Enjin,” Rudo spoke slowly, “what are you staring at?”

Suddenly, Enjin turned around so quickly he nearly twisted his neck before aggressively tapping the seats to get everyone’s attention.

“WHO IN THE HOLY MOLY OF SEXINESS IS THAT?!” he practically shouted while pointing dramatically toward the campus buildings outside.

Zanka immediately gave him a tired look before glancing toward the window anyway.

“Who?”

“That guy!” Enjin said loudly while jamming his finger against the glass. “The one over there with the nice blonde hair!”

Zanka squinted slightly through his glasses while Rudo and Riyo leaned over him to look outside as well.

“I’m sorry,” Riyo said slowly, “what guy?”

“There!” Enjin repeated dramatically. “Near the building! Talking to someone!”

The three siblings stared outside for several moments while trying to follow his horrible directions.

“THERE!” Enjin insisted again.

“I can’t see,” Zanka muttered flatly.

“THERE! LOOK!”

After another few seconds of confused searching, Rudo finally blinked in recognition.

“Oh,” he said casually. “You mean Gris?”

Riyo paused.

Zanka immediately froze.

Rudo turned toward Enjin again.

“You’re talking about the innocent-looking man with the slick blonde hair wearing the beige sweater over the white button-up with rolled sleeves while talking to Eisha and August right now?”

Enjin stared at him.

“I have no idea who Eisha and August are,” he admitted immediately, “but yeah, that guy!”

Zanka groaned loudly while dragging a hand down his face.

“No, Enjin...”

“What?!” Enjin defended instantly. “That guy is fine as hell, damn!”

Semiu looked out the window herself now, clearly studying Gris from afar.

“He does look pretty handsome,” she admitted thoughtfully before glancing sideways at Enjin. “But he’s way too good for you. No chance, honey.”

A visible vein nearly popped from Enjin’s forehead.