Chapter Text
The bar is crowded, as expected for a Friday night. Zanka bumped into at least a couple of people on his way back with a drink in hand, joining Riyo who is sitting on a stool along the wall. Photos of regulars and signatures covered where the paint once used to be pristine and there’s a heart carved into the wooden trim. Balancing their drinks in hand, Zanka lets himself look at its rough scratches a second longer.
“So, tell me about this crush of yours,” Riyo starts after she has secured her beverage.
“He’s not a crush.” Zanka corrects her, resting his palm on the back of her chair. “Well…”
Zanka Nijiku had high hopes for this semester. He’s feeling ready, his laptop settings configured, well-rested and readings done days ago with annotations. This is a higher level mathematics class and he’s not looking forward to writing out those answers, but it should be a walk in the park and the top score is just waiting for his name to appear next to it.
He arrived early to the lecture hall. Most of the students hadn’t arrived yet and he’s presented with numerous choices of seats; he picked the one close to the center aisle and in the middle of the room, so he can get out of his seat as quickly as possible at the end of class and also to give the professor the best visibility of his presence. Zanka arranged his notepad, pencil case, and sat his laptop to the side. Perfect setup, as it should be.
The students filtered in slowly, clearly already feeling the toll of the semester, despite it being their first day. Zanka can’t help but glance at their wary faces with contempt. The names of the people sitting next to him won’t matter in a few weeks when the test scores are up—-they just have to know who he is, that’s all–maybe not even his name, just him as the best in the class, or the brightest student in the mathematics major.
No one took the seat next to him and Zanka sighed, pleased. Everything’s going so smoothly. There won’t be anyone bothering him with questions, nor disrupting him in class, nor look at his answers or anything like that…
The professor started off with an introduction of the class content. As if they don’t know this already. Zanka pulled up the syllabus anyways and nodded attentively, only sparing one glance at the person materializing at the door with a bang of the door handle against the wall. The newcomer scanned the room; Zanka locked eyes with him for a second. Both of their gazes drifted to the empty seat next to Zanka.
Shit. Is there nowhere else? He watched as the tardy student walked toward him. He’s got a strange bounce in his step and he came unhurriedly, even though the professor was practically glaring behind his back. His hair swayed before Zanka’s eyes as he bent down and asked, despite the painfully obvious answer, “...is anybody sitting there?”
“No,” Zanka whispered, shifting his chair just a hair forward to not seem rude but to make sure the message gets delivered. The other man got slightly stuck behind him and he felt him there for a second longer, but he was able to wiggle free and plop down on the seat next to Zanka before it got any more awkward. His long legs stretched out into the row ahead of them as he leaned back far into the seat, his rummaging through his bag too loud for Zanka to hear over. Zanka tried to put up with it for a while but eventually ran out of patience, and as he turned around planning to hiss to the other guy to tone it down a bit, he saw that all he’s produced from his bag were his phone, a bag of chips, and his student ID that he somehow forgot to put away.
Catching Zanka staring at him, the other man traced his glare to the card and pushed it to the front like a business card, the other hand dropping his bag to the floor. It stood on its own for a second before falling limply over onto Zanka’s own laptop bag.
That was the last straw. Zanka hated this guy already, even before he asked for a pencil so he could solve all the questions that the professor tossed their way, or when the top score of the class showed a different and higher–a higher! –number than Zanka’s own. But on the first day they met, he only took another quick look at his student ID to make sure he remembers this rude buffoon by name: Jabber, not an easy one to forget.
Zanka tried his best to get away from Jabber after that first day’s encounter. He only had to surrender his best seat, but that’s a small price to pay, considering how insufferable it is to have Jabber as a neighbor. He just doesn’t bring a good attitude to class, that’s it, Zanka thinks as he secretly notes another time Jabber pulls out his phone under the desk. He’ll even do it on the desk–completely irresponsible. He could never remember to bring a pen or pencil, even on the day of the tests, and once he got a hold of one of Zanka’s, the speed at which he’s writing out the equations just drives Zanka insane. The scratching of penstrokes against paper was so loud, carving through his eardrums and echoing through the hall, although no one else seemed to be bothered as much. He has tried every single seat in the hall, and Jabber is always sure to spawn from thin air right next to him.
Second place. Zanka is sure the second place is his, even though he can never seem to score over Jabber. Jabber finishes his exams fast anyways and he waits outside the lecture hall like how it goes after any other test, twirling his pencil in hand. Zanka opened the door with a scowl knowing Jabber is on the other side of it; the sight of him just made his studying fatigue so much worse.
The mechanical pencil’s clicky part faced him as Jabber extended it out. “Thanks, Zanka,” he’d always say with a lazy smile on his face. At an arm’s distance, Zanka will have to look slightly upward to meet those dark, rosy eyes. The pencil still had his temperature on it when Zanka took it into his own hand; of course, he didn't say much back.
Sometimes he wished he could just drive the tip of the pencil into Jabber’s hand instead of taking it and saying “don’t worry about it”. Bring your own next time, idiot.
This class is ruined for him, ruined, Zanka gritted his teeth as he goes through yet another concept video in the library. He has never seen Jabber here, not even once. Jabber doesn’t keep notes like he does, nor does he seem to have prepared any study materials. He sat in class looking mildly interested at best only to put out the best performance in the end. Zanka can’t stand him; he can’t stand people like him.
He just needs to put in more work, that’s all. Zanka convinced himself even though his eyes were burning from focusing onto the screen for so long. He was not sure if he understood anything from these lectures–he’ll have to practice, and then probably look for more to solve, just to make sure that he has it down.
Zanka was getting dizzy. What time is it? The number at the bottom of his screen told him it’s not late enough. He could get something to eat, or he can power through this bit before taking a break. The sharp, cold lights of the library had drilled a pounding pain into his head. …how many hours of sleep did he have? It doesn’t matter. The test is coming up in a few days and he just has to beat Jabber in it. He needs to, Zanka thinks to himself as he flipped to a new page in his notebook.
“Hard at work?”
“…Jabber.” Zanka nodded curtly, focusing his eyes on his work again.
“How long have you been here? You look terrible.”
“How long I’ve been here has nothing to do with you.”
Jabber shrugged, pointing to the seats across from him. Zanka had chosen a booth in hopes that he wouldn't be disturbed, but Jabber’s unexpected appearance had truly messed that up for him. “You mind if I join?”
“You can have it.” Zanka planned on his escape. Jabber is the last person he wants to see while cramming; a stab of anger shoots through him. Does he think he's that much better, that he doesn’t need to put in any effort?
“Seriously, you need a break. Come walk with me. I saw you come in after class… when was that, like four hours ago?”
“But you just came in.”
“I feel like taking a walk.”
Zanka sighed, getting up from the couch, only for his world to black out for a split second. He could feel vaguely that his body is launching toward the floor, but he can’t seem to correct it——
He fell into Jabber’s arms. It was just a second and the scene of the library came back into focus, but he’s sure it happened, even when his body was straightened immediately and Jabber’s hands slid down his shoulders and fell back to the other man’s sides.
“You see what I mean? A break is good for you.”
“I can’t.”
Jabber cocked his head and the ends of his locks slipped off his shoulders. Zanka allowed his gaze to follow them for half a second before narrowing his eyes at Jabber again. “You have an A in this class. You can most definitely afford a break.”
Zanka shook his head in disbelief. “You just don’t get it.”
“So tell me, Zanka.” Surprised, Zanka didn’t have time to shield his expressions before exposing it all to Jabber. “What is it that I’m not getting? That you need sleep to think?”
“That was nothing. I can keep going.”
“Of course you can. You can also do that after you have a little nap.”
Zanka glared at him. “Why don’t you just find somewhere else to be?”
“I’ll even tuck you in,” Jabber smiles.
Zanka thought he’d rather die than to take this from Jabber. He’s tired and a nap does sound so good right now, but he’s not the person he wants to hear it from. “Fuck you.”
“You know I’m right.”
Zanka took his seat and sighed, feeling Jabber sit down next to him. He took out his phone to set a timer for 30 minutes, only for Jabber to interrupt with “I’ll wake you.”
“...I think not.”
“I will. I’m using your study spot, remember? I’ll be here for 30 minutes longer.” Jabber patted his own shoulder lightly. “Come.”
“No.” Zanka refused, bowing his head.
He fell asleep almost immediately. Maybe he didn’t have enough caffeine earlier in the day, he thought groggily at the edge of sleep. The library suddenly seemed cold and he shivered, feeling the radiation of warmth from his side. He’s really still here, thought Zanka as he finally surrendered his thoughts to the darkness.
He woke up to the faint smell of coffee. Zanka squinted, the artificial lights in the library suddenly too harsh for his eyes. A cup has emerged in front of him and it reads his name. That’s convenient, he thought, before he realized he’s leaning against something mildly warm and soft and very much human.
Zanka bolts upright to look at Jabber, who’s working through some foreign assignments.
“Morning,” Jabber said, turning toward him. “I got you coffee.”
Zanka reached gingerly for the cup. It had the familiar logo of the school cafe, and he could tell it was a normal latte just by the weight of it considering how many times he bought from there, but he just had to inspect it some more. He turned the paper cup to the side and it read his own name.
“What? It didn’t take that long. You still got a good 20 minutes with me.”
Zanka huffed. “I’m not drinking this.”
“Alright.” Jabber didn’t seem offended, only flipped one more page in his notebook.
“...what are you doing?”
“Hmm? My homework for my other class.”
Zanka stared at him, dumbfounded.
“I’m a chemistry major.”