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This was getting out of hand.
There wasn’t a day that went by where someone didn’t give Rudo some sort of sweet. Didn’t they know he’d get cavities quicker? Everyone was getting soft on Rudo, and Zanka thought it was ridiculous.
Like, the other day, Zanka turned a corner and saw Gris drop a lollipop in Rudo’s opened palms.
Then, the day before that day, Zanka heard Riyo giggling in the mess hall. When he poked his head in, he saw her perched on the edge of the low-rise table bouncing her knee. Beside her was Rudo, his eyes wide as saucers; in his hand he was cradling a mini, clear bag of macarons.
Zanka scoffed at the scene and headed to his room, his mood ruined.
For the longest time, he just didn’t understand why everyone kept on giving the rascal sweets all. The. Damn. Time. It gnawed at his brain so much that he had to confide in Enjin.
“Why? Just why? Y’all can’t keep spoilin’ him!”
Enjin laughed, gave his thigh a good slap at Zanka’s distressed outburst.
After Enjin’s laughter died down, wiping the tears in the corner of his eyes, he said, “Why don’t you try being nice to Rudo for once? Give him some candy or whatever. I think then, you’ll see the appeal in why we give Rudo candies and shit.”
Enjin got up, dusted his coat and gave Zanka a pat on the shoulder before heading back into the building.
Dumbfounded by Enjin’s words, and the fact that he was unbothered by all the dessert-giving to Rudo, Zanka stayed on the bench.
What the fuck? Had Rudo got Enjin too?
That was when Zanka knew it had really gotten out of hand.
::::::::::
So maybe Zanka was just a little bit curious as to what Enjin meant by the “appeal of giving Rudo candies and shit”. Enjin’s words were what spurred Zanka to find out in the first place.
He was strolling around the marketplace, searching for a stand selling desserts.
Macarons, macarons, he thought. He’s pretty sure those are Rudo’s favorite based on how many times he watched or overheard Rudo explode into happiness at the mere sight of them, the mere bite of one. Zanka’s confident that macarons would make Rudo’s head fall off. He chuckled to himself at the image of a headless Rudo rolling on the floor. The boy’s cheeks, however, would be stuffed with so many macarons.
Zanka was successful in buying himself a mini bag of macarons; he bought five different flavors. His task was done, so he paid and made his way back to the Cleaner’s HQ.
::::::::::
Riyo was walking down the hall when Zanka saw her.
“Hey, where’s Rudo at?” he asked.
At the mention of Rudo’s name, Riyo beamed. “I just spoke with him. He’s in the mess hall.”
Zanka nodded, about to head there, but Riyo conversed with him further.
“Oh, are those macarons? I didn’t know you liked those, too,” Riyo said. “Rudo might get jealous and try to snatch ‘em out of your hands if he sees them.”
“Then I’ll just smack him.”
Riyo laughed but realization made her cut herself off. “Wait. Are those for Rudo?”
Shit. Had he been figured out so soon?
“No! No—like I’d ever give that snot-nosed brat anything! You’re outta yer goddamn mind!”
Turning on his heels, Zanka stormed off, clutching the bag of macarons to his chest.
Behind him, Riyo grinned, a knowing expression on her face. She shouted at Zanka whose back got smaller the farther he walked down the hall that he would see. He’d see for sure.
::::::
Just outside the door of the mess hall, Zanka heard murmuring. Rudo and his little entourage of younger janitors were all sitting around a table…drawing? The sight was maybe just a little bit…endearing. Zanka was quick to smother that thought.
“Oi, Rudo!” Zanka stalked toward their table.
Everyone but Rudo looked up from drawing. Was Rudo being a little shit again? Or was he too immersed in his drawing to have heard him?
Only when Zanka stood beside Rudo, looming over him and giving the leg of Rudo’s chair a kick did he finally seem to notice Zanka’s presence. Rudo stared at Zanka, lips pursed; he nodded his head in shitty greeting, which annoyed the hell out of Zanka. What really did it for him, though, was when Rudo turned his head back to his paper to resume drawing.
Gritting his teeth, Zanka ground out, “Are you ignoring me?”
Rudo shook his head, still scribbling. Remlin, Guita, and Dear Santa continued to stare, but Zanka didn’t care, didn’t even notice their eyes boring holes in him. Rudo was seriously ticking him off.
“You wanna be like that? Fine! Guess I’ll just enjoy this bag of delectable macarons all by myself!” Hopefully, that’ll trigger Rudo.
And trigger it did, just not exactly what Zanka was prepared for. Before anything happened, Zanka heard Remlin say under their breath, “Oh no.” He also failed to notice Guita and Dear’s posture going rigid like they were fearful or perhaps bracing for something.
It all happened in a flash. There was a sound of a chair scraping against the floor, a blur of messy white hair invaded his vision next. Then, something—someone tackled him to the ground. His head throbbed; so did his spine from the impact of slamming into the ground.
“Rudo! Get offa him!”
Laughing. Grunting. Shouting. It was chaos.
Groaning, Zanka cracked his eyes open, and came face to face with a drooling, maniacal Rudo reaching for his hand—the one with the bag of macarons.
Right.
Remlin, Guita, and Dear Santa were trying to haul Rudo off of Zanka, but it was tough; Rudo was too strong for his own good, and he only got even tougher when sweets were involved.
“Give me! I want—macarons!” Rudo snarled, nearly incomprehensible like a beast.
Despite himself, Zanka wheezed out a laugh. Was this what the “appeal” Enjin and all the other crazy people here were so endeared by? So intrigued by? It didn’t make any sense to him. Who’d want to wrestle a monstrous Rudo intent on ripping his arm off just for a taste of macarons? If this was really it, then Zanka was sure he was the only sane person here because there was nothing “appealing” about his current predicament at all.
“Holy shit. Yer crazy, ya brat!”
Zanka attempted to pinch Rudo’s side, assuming that maybe then he’ll let up. It was a poor choice that almost cost him his fingers because Rudo’s teeth had snapped at his hand when he tried to touch Rudo.
There’s no way Rudo was this strong. He had three other people plus Zanka ganging up on him, yet the crazy brat didn’t even budge.
“J—just give Rudo the macarons, Zanka! Just do it!” Guita pleaded.
Dear Santa grunted his affirmative.
Remlin let out a strangled, “Yeah! It’s the only way!”
Zanka would have, he really would have if Rudo didn’t fucking get on his nerves or tackled him to the ground. “No chance in hell!” he grunted out.
He managed to use his forearm to push Rudo away from him, digging his elbow under Rudo’s chin. Even then, Rudo was relentless. His hands still blindly reached and grabbed at the air for the macarons. That seemed to be fruitless, as Rudo soon realized. So, he changed tactics and buried his hands in Zanka’s hair, pulling and yanking it in all directions.
Zanka wanted to cry, wanted to yowl in pain but suppressed all those reactions. Rudo was already humiliating him enough as is—he still hadn’t forgiven Rudo for throwing shit at him the first time they met—he wasn’t going to let Rudo do it again.
“Fuck! Stop! Stop! Fine! You win, you win,” Zanka whined. “You can have the macarons!”
Damn it! Damn it all! Did Rudo always have to cow him into surrendering?
On the bright side, his words were everyone’s saving grace: The chaos stopped instantly. The grip on Zanka’s hair loosened, and Rudo ceased his violent jostles and jerks from above Zanka, slowly rising to his feet. The other three peeled away from him relieved that it was over. Standing over Zanka, hair tousled and panting, Rudo held his gloved hand out to Zanka who was still trying to catch his breath from below.
He tossed the bagged macarons to Rudo before dropping his head back down against the floor with a thump. “Ugh.”
Everyone except Rudo made their way back to their table exhausted. Remlin, however, was laughing; everytime, they seemed to get a kick out of an unhinged Rudo fighting for desserts.
“You are such a brat,” Zanka said, lifting his head to glare daggers at Rudo who had lowered himself to the floor, settled between Zanka’s legs, and sitting crossed legged. Zanka would have taken note of it, probably would have flushed with embarrassment at their proximity but was focused on something else.
With gentle hands, Rudo carefully opened the bag, pulling the adhesive seal apart. Reaching with his pointer and thumb like pinchers, Rudo plucked out a pink-colored macaron. He brought it close to his nose and sniffed.
That’s when Zanka saw it:
Rudo’s eyes scrunched up into crescents, wrinkled his nose in a cute way. And it didn’t stop there. No. The apples of his cheeks rounded from the smile that stretched across his face—and was that a sharp tooth, a fang peeking out the side of Rudo’s lips?
In a trance—and that was exactly what Zanka was in as much as he wanted to deny it—Zanka watched, propped up on his forearms, as Rudo took a tiny bite of the macaron.
“Strawberry.” Rudo mumbled, lovingly staring at the macaron between his fingers.
Progressively, Rudo’s cheeks and button nose flushed; he looked so content. And all because of a damn macaron.
Maybe Zanka had assumed wrong; maybe this was the “appeal” and not Rudo becoming a crazed sweet-lover.
There was a crumb on Rudo’s philtrum. Absentmindedly, Zanka brought his hand to Rudo’s face and thumbed it away.
Rudo’s red, doe eyes flickered to Zanka. He cocked his head to the side, and Zanka watched his hair bounce with the motion.
“Thanks, Zanka,” Rudo said. The same words of gratitude he expressed when Zanka had helped him figure out the function of his vital instrument.
(Zanka wasn’t sure if Rudo was thanking him for the macarons or cleaning his face, too entranced with the gentle features of Rudo’s face to discern which.)
However this time, it was completely different.
So very different.
Rudo’s voice was softer, timid. This time, he looked Zanka in the eyes. And his blush—it made Zanka’s heart flutter in his chest. He swallowed thickly to calm himself.
“You like macarons, too?”
Rudo’s voice cut through Zanka’s daze. “Y—yeah,” Zanka said dumbly. Rudo’s cheeks looked so soft, so pinchable.
(Like…mochi. Zanka would have to buy some and see what kind of reaction it got out of Rudo next.)
His eyes followed Rudo’s hand as he brought the half-bitten strawberry macaron to his opened mouth.
Shit, even his lips looked soft.
Just as Rudo was about to take another bite out of the macaron, probably finishing off the whole thing, Zanka blurted out, “Strawberry’s my favorite flavor.”
The macaron’s path to Rudo’s mouth halted instantly just as it brushed his upper lip. It hovered there a few seconds longer before Rudo pulled it away from his mouth and brought it closer to Zanka’s instead.
“Sorry,” Rudo said, blinking slowly like he was sleepy. “I didn’t know.”
Cute.
A determined look was on Rudo’s face. “Here.” And Rudo nudged the macaron against Zanka’s lips. Opening, Rudo pushed the macaron in, watching as it disappeared into Zanka’s mouth. As he chewed, Rudo watched intently.
The macaron was delicious. But something about eating the other half of it after Rudo had bitten off his portion made the flavor better, made his mouth tingle and ache. Because of that, Zanka made an extra effort to savor its texture and sweetness and creaminess as it melted on his tongue.
Zanka swallowed, licked his lips. Rudo’s ruby eyes glinted.
“ ‘s good, right?” Rudo said excitedly, seemingly happy to share his love for macarons with someone else.
Remembering that he had a bag of macarons, Rudo held it between their chests as an idea crossed his mind.
“Wanna share?”
Something in Zanka was slipping but he couldn’t tell what. All he knew was it had to do with Rudo, Rudo, Rudo.
For once, Rudo’s smile wasn’t distorted as he directed it at Zanka. Rudo definitely had fangs, Zanka was starting to accept. (They're not cute, not cute at all.) Soft and cherubic, soothing to stare at was what Rudo’s smile was like. It was infinitely better when Rudo didn’t force it. That way, Zanka would be able to enjoy the sight, especially if it was meant for him.
“Which one?” Rudo asked.
He was looking at the other four macarons, all differing in colors and flavors, trying to decide which one they should try next. With furrowed brows, he observed each one, planning out the order of which they might eat them. And if that didn’t make Zanka feel less hostile towards Rudo (it did), then his pout definitely did. Made his lips protrude cutely and cheeks puff out in a way that reminded Zanka of a squirrel with way too many acorns stored in its stretchable cheeks.
(Zanka had an urge to lean in and catch the jutting flesh of Rudo’s lips made from his pout, between his teeth. Wanted to tug on it and make it sting. Rudo would wince. And by obligation, Zanka would have to make it all better by licking at Rudo’s lips and giving it a gentle kiss to erase the pain.)
Rudo was still sitting between his legs, but he must have shifted closer to Zanka since he didn’t recall Rudo’s knees brushing his inner thighs before. Also, Rudo was no longer sitting crossed legged; he made himself smaller, took up less space by sitting on his heels instead. By now, Zanka was propped up on his palms so that he and Rudo were at eye-level.
“Green one,” Zanka suggested. It was probably green tea or something he guessed.
Rudo hummed, pleased. The sound made Zanka want to puff his chest out in pride because for once, he and Rudo were on the same wavelength.
Rudo plucked the macaron out of the bag and offered it to Zanka for a bite; they were sharing after all. Leaning close to Rudo’s hand, he bit half of the green macaron, bangs brushing the tip of Rudo’s nose. His lips grazed Rudo’s fingertips, and Zanka almost leaned down again to kiss Rudo’s fingers and knuckles but couldn’t because Rudo pulled his hand away before Zanka got the chance to do anything.
In anticipation, Zanka watched as Rudo swiftly brought the remainder of the macaron to his own mouth and dropped it in. He ate the rest of the macaron that Zanka had taken a bite out of.
They were sharing. Sharing food. Together. Him and Rudo.
Suddenly aware of the implications of their actions, Zanka blushed deeply, wanted to clutch the bottom half of his face but didn’t. How could he when Rudo smiled at him like that again?
He had been right; it was green tea-flavored. By the looks of it, Rudo enjoyed that one as much as the strawberry macaron. Zanka wanted to ask Rudo what his favorite flavor was, that way he’d know which one to buy more of in the near future. But then everything about what they were doing, what it looked like from an outside perspective: from sharing food, to Rudo sitting between his legs, so close that their hair—blonde and white with the tip singed black—blended together, nearly entangled and sticking to the other’s bangs, causing their foreheads to itch; to Rudo’s smile making Zanka feel funny, breath quickening; to Zanka’s thoughts betraying him because How could he find this snot-nosed brat cute of all things? all slammed into him at once.
Like Zanka said before, this was getting out of hand.
The finishing blow to all of this was when Zanka remembered that the two of them were not alone.
Rudo’s little entourage: Remlin, Dear Santa, and Guita, they were still there, weren’t they?
Sure enough, when Zanka looked to the table they were sitting at, three pairs of eyes stared back at him and Rudo with looks ranging from disbelief to disgust to pure joy and awe. As Zanka floundered, Rudo on the other hand wasn’t paying attention, too busy looking at the bag of macarons like it was his most prized possession.
The blush on Zanka’s face burgeoned and spread to his ears and neck. He stuttered and sputtered, tried to come up with an explanation. Nothing understandable came out.
His face felt hot. He needed to get out of there right now.
His limbs went into overdrive, fueled by the need to remove himself from the situation altogether. Scrambling to his feet, his head knocked into Rudo. Too focused on booking it out of the mess hall, the pain did not register. Had he seen the hurt look on Rudo’s face, Zanka would have apologized in an instant. He dashed to the door and slammed it shut on his way out, not even bothering to spare Rudo a glance. In fact, he didn’t look back once; the embarrassment was too immense.
::::::::::
By the time he made it to his room, he was out of breath, heavily gasping for air. He slid down the door. When he was fully seated on the floor, he touched his fingertips to his lips.
He and Rudo just shared food.
Ate from the same macaron.
And Rudo’s smile—it was a real work of art.
Yeah, Zanka could definitely see the appeal to giving Rudo any type of dessert now as clear as day.
The day’s event was nice, Zanka will admit. It’s just that something was bothering him now. Nagging at him.
He was not the only one who made Rudo smile all sweet and grateful. In fact, he was probably the last person to do it; everyone else got to experience the (cute) unobnoxious side of Rudo. Everyone knew the way to Rudo’s heart: through his stomach by giving him sweets.
And for some reason, Zanka didn’t like that at all. He kind of wanted to keep that part of Rudo hidden. Only accessible to him. A content Rudo, smiling, cute and dazed, wasn’t something that Zanka thought everyone had a right to. It was a privilege. Therefore, it shouldn’t be treated like a free handout; that was insulting.
Perhaps Zanka could intervene somehow. Contemplating, ideas began to percolate:
He could keep an eye out on the other cleaners. If they were planning on giving Rudo anything, Zanka could always step in—as the middleman, of course—and be the one to deliver the sweets himself on behalf of them. That was plausible.
Or, he could be the one to buy and give Rudo sweets whenever the boy craved it. Zanka was a good provider, didn’t mind allocating a portion of his paycheck for purchasing sweets solely for Rudo.
Yeah, that seemed like a way better plan, eased Zanka’s heart a little more. He could ensure that Rudo was getting the quality sweets he wanted all the time.
It was decided, then.
::::::::::
Tomorrow, Zanka would invite Rudo to a stroll through the market, specifically where the dessert stands were heavily concentrated.
And if he made a mental plan for how their day would go, which stalls they’d check out, which desserts and candies he wanted to introduce to Rudo, and already created the perfect excuse that would allow him get his hands on Rudo’s face to squish and pinch his cheeks, that was for Zanka to know only.