Archive of Our Own

Zachariah loved jump rope. Every day he went to the gym with the sole intention of getting swole. But one day he saw something that changed his life forever.

He met a lookmaxxer.

Zachariah was jumping rope as per usual when someone tapped his big, meaty shoulder. He paused the TikTok video he was recording and turned to the stranger.

“What the actual fuck, bruv? You gotta problem wif me?” Zachariah said, not too happy being interrupted from appeasing his TikTok fans.

“I’m Mitchell. Big fan of yours, I am,” he smiled, putting his hands on his hips. “I couldn't help but notice that you have a negative canthal tilt. If you wanna pull loads of chavs, it’s gotta be on the positive, brotha.”

“What are you on about, doofus? What’s a canal tilt?” Zachariah finally stopped jumping rope to talk to Mitchell.

“Canthal tilt, and it’d be good if you had one.” Mitchell gestured to his own eyes. “Look at my eyes and see how perfect they are. This could be you, my guy. Just gotta do some squint exercises.”

“I’m listening.”

“So you squint your eyes like so, brotha,” Mitchell squinted his eyes at Zachariah, like he was struggling to see something. “This is how I got these wonderful eyes.”

“Okay….,” Zachariah Noble followed Mitchell’s lead, and now they were both squinting at each other in the empty gym. “When do we stop?”

“We go to failure,” he replied, “you’re not gonna be a wuss and tap out on me, are ya bruv?”

“Never.”

Beads of sweat trickled down their temples as they continued to squint. Zachariah could feel his brows begging him to stop, but he couldn’t show weakness in front of a fabled lookmaxxer. He’d heard stories of wandering chads who’d challenge average Joes like him who were just tryna get swole. Though he’d never thought that today would be the day that he’d come across one.

“You… your power?! This… isn’t the first time you’ve… lookmaxed, is it?!” Mitchell said as if each word was a struggle.

“It is.” Zachariah couldn’t help but grin. He’d beat a lookmaxxer at his own game. “Are you gonna tap out on me, brotha?”

“I… I…, “ Mitchell sighed, and he stopped squinting. As he hung his head in shame, he announced, “I’ve gotta rope max, bruv. It’s so over for me.”

“No, no, Mitchell, it’s not worth it.” He put his hand on Mitchell’s shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze. “There’ll still be chavs who’ll go for a loser like you.”

“Really?!” He looked up at him, a hopeful glint in his eyes. “You really fink so?”

“I know so.” Zachariah pocketed his jump rope. “Now let’s go out on the town and find us some chavs, eh?”

Mitchell loves Essex, and Essex loves him. Everytime he goes there, he’s plagued by hordes of chavs, and they all want a piece of his positive canthal tilt. Mitchell loves a girl who respects some dedicated lookmaxxing.

Essex has become a safe space for Mitchell to be who he really is, so taking Zachariah wif him feels intimate. Zachariah may have bested him back at that gym, but here, Mitchell is king.

He leads Zachariah into his favourite pub, where he knows nuffin can stop him. Zachariah’s eyes wander over the whole place in disbelief. He’s never seen Essex before, but he’s learning to appreciate the culture.

They take a seat at the bar, but they only get a few seconds of peace before they’re being interrupted by a chav.

Mitchell puts on his best smile, squinting to enhance the positive canthal tilt he knows she’ll love. However, she doesn’t spare a glance at him, too focussed on the man at his side.

“Hi.” The usual abrasiveness of a chav seems lost on her. Mitchell realizes with abject horror that she’s become shy around Zachariah.

But how? Zachariah has a negative canthal tilt, something that should make him atrocious to any chav in sight. Yet, here he is, getting approached by one.

“Howdy, my name’s Zachariah,” he says, holding out his hand for her to shake. He’s not even squinting. He’s embracing his negative canthal tilt. It’s absurd!

She surprisingly takes it, giving Zachariah’s hand a firm shake. “Don’t fink I’ve seen you ‘round here before.” She smacks her lips a couple times for good measure. “I’m Jess.”

“Wonderful to see you here on this gorgeous Monday morning. Fancy a pint?”

“Oh, I’d love one, good sir.” Jess slides into the spot beside Zachariah, shoving Mitchell out of his seat.

Mitchell stumbles away from the bar in confusion. If Jess had just taken a second to look at him, she would’ve seen his positive canthal tilt, and would’ve talked to him, and not Zachariah. It was because Zachariah was taller than him, wasn’t it? He began to seriously consider rope maxxing.

Taking Zachariah to his favourite place in Essex was a mistake. Mitchell was an idiot to think that his canthal tilt would be a match for the obvious height difference. Fighting the tears brewing in his eyes, he turns and makes for the door.

Zachariah glances up from his conversation with the chatty chav, to see Mitchell leave. His brow furrowed in confusion, and he called after his new best bruv. “Mitch! Where are you going, bruv?”

But Mitchell’s only answer was the slam of the pub door.

Abandoning Jess and his drink at the bar, Zachariah storms after Micthell. His long legs thud on the bar floor, announcing his tall, negative canthal tilt presence to all the chavs in the surrounding area. With a loud cry, they all rise from their seats and follow after him.

“Mr. Noble! Mr. Noble!” They all croon, stomping after him.

Zachariah sends a worried glance over his shoulder, but at the moment he cares more about the wellbeing of Mitchell. Opening the pub door, he’s met with the chilly air of that Monday morning. He looks both ways, but he can’t catch a glimpse of Mitchell’s blond locks.

“Where is that lookmaxxer?” He mutters to himself, but his thoughts are interrupted by the pub door falling off its hinges as hundreds, if not thousands of chavs pour onto the streets behind him.

Zachariah is forced to give up the search for Mitchell in order to survive. He bolts into a run, his long legs carrying him blocks and blocks away. Still, he can hear the resounding call of all the chavs hot on his heels. No matter how far he seems to run, they continue to go after him.

Zachariah wipes his forehead, huffing and puffing. He ducks into an abandoned building near the outskirts of Essex. He’s ran that far. He puts both hands on his knees to catch his breath. Once his heart rate returns to normal, he leans his head back against the wall, swearing under his breath.

“Having fun?”

Zachariah flinches, and once his eyes adjust to the darkness around them, he spots Mitchell there, with crossed arms and a glare plastered on his face, showing off his positive canthal tilt.

“What are you talking about, brotha?” Zachariah asks.

“Zachariah~!” A chav calls from outside the building. Zachariah immediately ducks out of reflex.

“That,” Mitchell answered. He looked upset, and his eyes were red with tears.

“Look– I didn’t know that this would happen.” He tries to explain, but his words fall short.

“It doesn’t matter. You’ve won, alright? You’ve proved that all of my lookmaxxing doesn’t matter if I’m not tall like you are.” He gestures wildly to the chavs outside. “All of those wonderful chavs went crazy at the sight of you. But they won’t even look at my positive canthal tilt.”

Zachariah hangs his head in shame. “I’m sorry, bruv. I can’t control how the ladies feel about me, but I get your struggle. I was short once too, but then I grew taller.”

Mitchell buries his face in his hands. “I just… I just want to be tall like you, Zach. All these years, I’ve always admired your height. I thought lookmaxxing would get me there, but it didn’t. Now… what do I do? Nothing matters if I’m not tall.”

Zachariah thinks for a moment. “How about… I carry you on my shoulders, and you can feel how it feels to be me.”

Mitchell sniffles, thinking it over. “You’d do that for me?”

Zachariah steps closer, a smile working its way onto his face. “Yeah, bruv. I’d do anything for you.”

With the chavs still roaming outside, Zachariah hoists Mitchell onto his shoulders. He has to duck to not hit his head on the ceiling.

“I… have to duck…,” Fresh tears well in his eyes, but this time they’re tears of joy.

Zachariah opens the door to exit the building, and he sees all the chavs turn to look at him. Fear crawls up his back, and he wonders if he’ll ever see his family again. But then, to his amazement, their eyes raise to look at Mitchell.

“Mr. Eliot! Mr. Eliot!” They all chant, adoration in their eyes.

“They’re calling my name…,” he says in wonder.

“This is how it feels to be me, Mitch. Drink it in.”

“You’re my favourite gas engineer, Mitchie!” One of them calls, and he lets out a choked sob of joy.

The chavs all back away, clearing a path for them to exit Essex. The path seems to stretch on for miles.

“We’re never going to make it back home in time,” Mitchell says.

“Don’t worry.” Zachariah reaches into his pocket and pulls out his favourite jump rope. “I never leave home without this bad boy.”

With both handles in hand,he thrashes the rope onto the ground with a resounding boom. The pavement shakes with the force, and a couple chavs lose their balance. Letting out a breath, Zachariah begins to jump rope all the way home. The rope stretches over Mitchel’s head and passes under Zachariah’s feet. With each jump, they soar into the sky.

The saying goes that white men can’t jump, but Zachariah puts that to shame. He works on his vertical jump every time he jumps rope, and now it’s come in handy to get him and Mitchel home before sundown.

The sun sets around them as the best buds glide through the air. They can see their house approaching in the distance, and they take their time to admire the British scenery around them.

Finally, Zachariah puts the jump rope away, and they’re standing on the doorstep of his home. Zachariah crouches to let Mitchell back on his feet.

Zachariah’s house is an expensive one, since he’s a personal trainer. Mitchell is only a humble gas engineer and he could only dream of affording a place like this.

Mitchell looks around in confusion. “But, this isn’t my house, Zachariah.”

“This is our home now, Mitchell,” Zachariah says, a pleased smile on his negative canthal tilt face. He holds out his hand, gesturing for Mitchel to take it. “Shall we?”

Mitchel fails to hide his amazement as he takes Zachariah’s hand. “We shall.”

They both walk into the house together, ready to open a new chapter where they’ll be best buds forever.