Work Text:
YOU WEREN'T PRESENT during breakfast, which was perfectly normal considering you usually sleep in during your day off—and Zanka was fairly certain today was one of those. So, he didn't mind your absence, no matter how much it left a rather large void in his heart.
Nope. He wasn't about to unpack those feelings. Not now. Not ever. Abso-fucking-lutely not. Thank you very much.
But when lunchtime started to creep in and there was still no sign of you, he was willing to admit that his stomach churn uncomfortably.
By now, you should already be up and about, annoying him with that sickly sweet smile of yours, walking down the hall beside him with arms just a bit too close to his, and staring at him with those pretty eyes of yours like he was the only damn person in your line of sight.
Yeah. Safe to say he didn't like not having you around.
Not that he was going to publicly admit that.
And so, he steeled himself with the only excuse he could muster: He was just doing a teammate wellness check. Yeah, one of those stuff. Not worrying, or panicking. Just a good old checking on why you weren't present during breakfast and still not by his side right now. Repeating over and over again that he was just doing a wellness check on a teammate.
There wasn't any other reason as to why he hurried his way down to your room, heart beating loudly against his ears as his chest heaved in and out of exhaustion. There wasn't any reason why he stood frozen in front of your door just a second too long because he hesitated on knocking.
Would it be respect to only knock once, or should he do the standard three times and then, calling out your name? But, what if you had a particular set of knocking you liked done to announce a person's presence?
Damn, he was overthinking all of these too much.
He knocked, three times before calling out your name in a hushed tone. "Ya there?" he asked, pressing closer to the door with a hand resting on the knob. "Ya weren't at breakfast, an' it's already lunch. Riyo's been buggin' me to fetch ya or else Rudo's gon' eat yer share of the sweets."
There was no reply, only suffocating silence that weighed heavily on Zanka's shoulders.
He tried again, voice pressed through clenched teeth. "[Name], ya still asleep or what?" Again, you didn't reply, which only deepened the gnawing worry inside him.
Zanka's jaw tightened as he dragged a hand through his hair, one foot mindlessly tapping against the floor.
He should probably report this to Semiu. She would know what to do since she handled stuff like these with Gris and Enjin, whenever the two men drink too much on a workday. On the other hand, the itch inside him was relentless. It glued him to the floor, wouldn't allow him to take even a step away from your door which was starting to look rather menacingly in his eyes.
His hand twisted the knob, and your door creaked open.
Instantly, worry flooded his chest, colder than anything he'd expected.
His eyes immediately zoned to your bed. You were curled awkwardly around a pillow, hair plastered messily to your face, body swallowed in thick blankets as your chest rose and fell in a rhythmic pattern.
It was odd, definitely odd. You weren't the type to bundle yourself up even in the dead of a winter night.
He stepped inside, the noise echoing hollowly as dread coiled in his gut, clawing at his skin and nerves like parasites. "[Name]...?" he called softly. "Hey, you okay...?" He finally went over you, gently pushing away strands of your hair, only to jerk back at the blistering heat of your skin.
"Shit! Yer burnin' up!" he hissed, eyes widening. He didn't bother hiding his panic as he carefully rolled you onto your back.
Your cheeks and forehead were flushed red, beads of sweat rolling down to your damp duvet. Uneven and shallow breathing left your pale lips, like each one hurt a little more than the last.
Your eyes cracked open, hazy and unfocused as you squinted at him. "Zan... ka? What're... you doing... here? What time... is... it?"
“The better question is why in the hell ya didn't tell anyone ya were this sick?!” he snapped, pressing a hand to your forehead again. Fuck, it was honestly a feat on how high your temperature was. "Damn it—ya could fry an egg on yer face!"
Zanka's sharp words betrayed his panic-soft hands, gently fixing your blankets and lifting your head just enough to support you. Carefully, he sat the edge of your bed, just close enough to feel your immense warmth through the layers of fabrics. He scanned the room, cursing quietly at the overturned, dried-up cup of water on the floor.
"...How long've ya been like this?"
"...Since morning, I think..." you murmured. "I tried to... get outta bed for breakfast, but... got too dizzy... and just collapsed on bed again..."
You then chuckled, voice hoarse. It tugged something inside Zanka. "Think I stayed too long in the polluted zone yesterday... I'll be fine... just gotta... sleep it off, that's all..."
Zanka nearly choked on his saliva, eyebrows raised to his forehead. "Sleep—?! Yer as red as Rudo's beady lil' eyes an' ya think sleep's gon' help ya?!"
You nodded, a small smile plastered on your lips. "Mhmm... just like old times..."
He shot up, heart beating way too loudly in his ears as he moved with a burst of frantic energy he didn't quite understand himself. He fetched a small bowl of water from your bathroom, soaked a clean towel, wrung it out, and returned to your side in record time.
"Hold still," he mumbled, gently pressing the cool towel to your forehead. Your body relaxed instantly, breath easing through your nose as you sighed, falling deeper into your bed. Zanka let out a sigh of his own—full of relief that he didn't realise he'd been holding this entire time.
For a moment, the room fell still.
Zanka's knee bounced restlessly, the small bowl of water splashing against his pants. His fingers tapped against the bed. His lips parted and sealed again. His eyes were locked onto your face, intently watching your content smile while he ran the cool towel on your reddish skin repeatedly
Again, that same large void gnawed inside him like a beast. It twitched and turned at the unfamiliar sight of you—like everything about this was just wrong. You weren't supposed to look like you've just returned from a dangerous battle involving some kind of poison. You were supposed to be smiling by his side, the only redness on your face meant to be on your cheeks when he finally humoured your oh-so-delicious compliments—
Nope. Nuh uh. He refused to acknowledge it. Not a chance. No way.
He huffed, finding himself ridiculous before his eyes returned to your face.
"...Ya know," he started quietly, "yer real annoyin' when ya get sick."
He paused, sighing, as he dragged a hand through his hair again. "Yer annoyin' when yer healthy too, but... this is worse. A lot worse." He grimaced at himself, the honesty slipping out faster than he could filter it. "'Cause I don't know what the hell to do with myself when ya ain't 'round with that smile of yers," he muttered, voice barely audible as his finger mindlessly traced from your forehead to your cheek.
Zanka then froze, brain buffering, trying to digest his own words. Mortified, his eyes flicked toward you—luckily, your eyes were shut, chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm that soothed his fried nerves.
Good.
Thank the sky.
He'd sooner throw himself back into that damn well than let you hear that. No doubt you would be teasing him about it for three to five business weeks.
He leaned back, staring up at the dull ceiling as he silently cursed himself for not having enough self-control. Yet, despite that, he knew the softness in his expression was completely betraying him right now.
A soft sound escaped you as you shifted, and instantly he was leaning forward again—one hand fixing your blanket, adjusting your pillow, and brushing gentle fingers across your temple while balancing the bowl of water on his lap with surprising precision.
His stare lingered on your face for a moment, taking in your peaceful expression. The way your complexion slowly returned to its original warmth, your lashes resting softly against your cheeks, your cute nose, and your partially-opened lips with soft snores whispering out of them.
Zanka let a small, relieved smile tug his lips upward. The void in his heart was no more, instead, it was thrumming with loud drums and a roaring engine. It filled him with lightness—like his world was back to its original axis after a devastating fall. Like seeing you breathe easy again let something inside him breathe too.
"...I'll stay 'til ya wake up," he whispered, voice unnaturally soft in the silent room. "I'll be here to help ya get better an' better, jus' like yer always there for me..."