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The tile of the bathroom is cold against Zanka as she sits on the floor, looking towards the ceiling, while Riyo stands at the sink, staring at themselves in the mirror and humming.
“The time we most understood each other was when I had tried to kill him with a kitchen knife. It hadn't been something we had planned; it wasn't a fight or like-” She groans in frustration. “Anything like how we normally fight. We had been cooking together, he told me he liked Gris’ salmon and wanted me to show him how to make it.”
“That shit is banger.”
Riyo bobs their head as they straighten their shirt and move to sit on the ground a bit across the room from Zanka. She agrees absentmindedly and continues talking.
“We had been going good, like really good, he would take me out for dates, he told me I was pretty, which..” She pauses.
“-I don't know why, but it felt so weird. Anyways, I had the knife in my hand.” She looks down, imagining the scene in her head.
“And all I felt was anger. Anger because I used to be like- I know it wasn't true, but in that moment it felt like he took away my strength. I wanted to build my walls, but he passed them, fuckin’ took every brick I tried to place and crumbled them with a gentleness I didn't think he fuckin’ had! I never thought he was going to love me in the first place. But he did! He is so fucking stupid for that! Regardless,” Zanka practically mumbles out and shakes her head as she continues.
“I held the knife to him, and in a moment, the only thing on my mind was, it’s either him or me. Because I just felt so unsure. Like-” Before she can finish her thought, Riyo interrupts.
“Love makes you feel unsafe because it's something.. uh, fickle?”
She nods, looking back up at them.
“That's kind of what makes it so nice, though, like. Hate is something safe; you can hate something with all your heart, and that never changes. One thing won't shake that; they can't do something that miraculously makes it better. But if you love someone, it can all fall apart in a moment. Like how life works, too.”
“Sometimes hate feels better.”
Sighing for a moment, they move ever-so slightly closer.
“Yeah, but I know ya, Zanki, you can't live without love. It’s cliché as hell, yeah, but it’s what you deserve, sometimes you gotta gamble. What's that dumb thing Enjin says, hold on-”
“Are you talking about the ‘ninety-nine percent of gamblers who quit before they hit big’ shit he talks about?”
That makes Riyo laugh, and Zanka follows, her laughs much softer and more tired compared to her sisters.
“Listen. Don't listen to Gris- he hates gambling, but that's what we do all the time, loves a gamble, and if you don’t roll them slots, then how are ya gonna win anything?”
“But that's how people lose everything.”
They look up reassuringly, some giggles still escaping them.
“You just gotta choose the right machines. Think about it, you’ve been with him for what-”
Remembering a play-fight she and Jabber had had a few hours prior, she looks back at her watch.
“Two months, five days, an hour, and forty-seven seconds until our year anniversary.”
Riyo raises an eyebrow and fully laughs, clutching their stomach before looking back up at their little sister.
“You’re down, bad girl!”
“I only know because he taunted me with that last time we fought, fuckin’-”
Shaking their head and taking a breath to calm themselves, they let Zanka talk again.
“He looked me in the eyes, and he could tell this wasn't one of our play fights, told me there was something off in my eyes. You want to know what he did?”
Tears threaten to well in her eyes, and she holds her head in her hands.
“He held my hands, like I was worth the fuckin’ world to him. And he asked me what was up. Not his normal way but like- god it was so full of love, and it both made me feel like I had nothing to worry about but also so much fucking worse.”
Riyo nods and motions for her to keep going.
“He held me. Gently took the knife from my hands and wrapped his arms around my shoulders so I couldn't move. Not in a mocking way, sometimes it shocks me how he doesn't make me feel bad. He has been trying to teach me how to fight better, because objectively, he is much better than I am, and rather than making fun of me, yeah, he teases, but not like.- Augh, do you know what I'm tryin to say?”
“I take it that made ya feel worse because ‘if the guy I love who literally used to try to kill me can do this, why can't-” Before Riyo can finish, Zanka looks up at her with a tired expression.
She backs off and makes an all-good motion.
“I cried. I fuckin’ sobbed in his arms, and even then, he didn't tell me I was weak, didn't talk shit about how I should be better than this, he just stood there until I backed up and he made sure I was okay again.”
“Sounds like that's the right slot to use.”
Humming for a moment, she buries her head back in her hands.
“Touch?” Riyo asks, voice gentle.
Zanka nods in response and hears the other woman scoot up next to her and carefully card slender fingers through her hair.
“Are you wantin’ to grow your hair out? It’s getting pretty long, and we haven't talked about it much.”
“Kinda feels like I have to.”
Riyo hums.
“The only thing that makes you a girl is if you want to be one. I used to feel like I had to change how I looked, since I'm not like.. A normal girl, I guess. But having long hair makes me happy; hair isn't gendered. August shaves his legs, Semiu doesn't, and there is nothing wrong with either of those. Ya just gotta do what feels right for ya. Earlier, you said it felt weird when he called you pretty. Is that a romance thing or a gender thing?”
Zanka processes what they’re saying for a moment before starting again.
“Like, when I was back there, my parents, siblings, they made it seem like it was an insult. Being called pretty or feminine was bad, because- damn, I never realized how sexist they were- because women were like weaker, so my sister had to work harder, but also I think that a lot of the time it led to like, I don't know. I have thought about talking to August about not making flowy stuff like he did last time, it feels wrong on me?”
“Sounds like the problem is the expectations others put on you about how to express yourself.”
She nods, and Riyo scratches behind her ear, making them smile at how Zanka raises her head ever so slightly to go further into the touch.
“I don't like the redesign of the uniform he did. He was so excited about getting to redesign all the clothes and stuff as he did for Eishia, but like-”
“It’s not you then.”
She sighs and nods.
“Thanks for doing this for me. Being here.”
Riyo stands, extending a hand down to her. Zanka raises her head and takes the hand, walking back with her into their room.
“Of course, you're my little sis. Wanting to sleep in here tonight or head back to your room?”
Zanka gives them an expression that can only solidifies that and makes them laugh lightly, walking over to their closet and pulling out a mattress that would seem much too small for her. There had been a sale a while back that sold toddler mattresses at an insanely low price, so the cleaners had basically bought all of them and stored them because someone had a tendency to collect children. On the rare nights that Zanka comes to Riyo for comfort, rather than the dads, Zanka used to opt for sleeping on the floor. Now they just use two of the beds, slotting them together at the side of her bed like one would do a dog bed, throwing Zanka one of the blankets from their bed, and grabbing another one from the closet for them to use.
Once they had finished this little ritual of theirs, Zanka hugged them. While not a sight never seen, it’s something rare, reserved for moments like this.
“I love you, Zanka.”
Zanka holds their head to her chest, the voice practically reverberating through her ribcage, and when she backs up, they motion for her to bend down and leave a kiss on her forehead.
“Are you tired?” Zanka says, as more of a ‘I am, but I don't want to make you feel like you have to do something just because I want to.’
Riyo nods, a soft smile on their face as they sit down on their bed.
“Yeah, you’ve had a long day, don't think you took a nap after that fight either.”
Curling up on the mattresses, she sighs, there isn't a magical way to fix her problems, her issues with love are something she's going to have to work through for years, but small moments like this feel like band-aids on the canyon that's her mental fuck-ups around the subject. One day, she supposes it will get better, it will be hell, but she's gotta try.