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Unlike some people on campus, Jabber had been looking forward to having a roommate. Being in a space with someone he didn’t know meant there were all sorts of possibilities.
Chemical reactions, if you will.
They could mix perfectly together — a little boring, if you ask him — or they could explode and take the whole place down with them — still boring, to be honest, because it’s predictable, but hey, at least it’d be fun.
Zanka Nijiku is somewhere in between, a combination that Jabber’s never experienced.
It makes him perfect, assuming Jabber can handle the variables.
Easy on the eyes and studious to a fault, after two semesters of rooming together, Zanka still manages to keep Jabber guessing. He’s got the personality of someone who grew up with the very real possibility of getting a purebred pony for his fifth birthday or one of those “only five in existence” luxury cars for his sweet sixteen, but he acts like a feral cat ready to strike. Jabber’s learned this the hard way, back when the two were still getting a feel for each other. It had only taken him a week to really piss Zanka off, something about not washing his dishes for days (he was busy, okay?) and drinking orange juice straight from the carton instead of a glass (see previous point about the lack of dishes).
It was such an anticlimactic thing to get mad about, but that’s when Jabber discovered the beautiful way Zanka’s voice sounded when he was swearing and making promises, not threats, because when he said he’d end him if he didn’t do his fucking part to keep the place clean, he meant that shit. Made Jabber see his ancestors for a brief moment when he shoved him so hard against the wall that the bookshelf rattled and nearly toppled everything over.
Jabber’s been in love ever since.
But being in love with Zanka is… well, it’s not difficult, per se. Jabber thinks it’s as easy as breathing fresh air — if that fresh air was on a blistering cold day so it made the back of your throat sting.
That doesn’t mean Jabber isn’t up for the challenge. If anything, two semesters with the prettiest asshole on campus has further cemented how perfect he really is for Zanka. It’s just... Zanka hasn’t realized that yet. That’s okay, though! At this point in their relationship, Jabber has earned the title of being the, quote, “World’s Okayest Roommate.”
In Zanka terms, that basically translates to I love you so fucking much, Jabber. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You- “Why are ya starin’ off into space like that?”
Jabber blinks. Oh right, they’d been in the middle of a conversation, one where Zanka had been talking about... what was it again?
“Great. You ain’t even payin’ attention.”
“Yeah I am, man! Was just thinkin’ ‘bout what ya said.”
“Oh yeah? What did I say, then?”
All Jabber needs is a couple of context clues. He and Zanka are sitting on the couch together, so that means it’s not anything school-related. Not really, anyway. It’s not related to studying or exams, at least, because if it were, Zanka would be at his desk, nearly snapping his pencil in half. But no, Zanka’s sitting on the couch with a box of chocolates in his lap and-
Wait.
Hold on.
Zanka’s got a box of chocolates. He’s got a box of chocolates because it's Valentine’s Day.
Riiiiight, that’s why Jabber had mentally pulled himself out of the conversation and started thinking about things like the first time I fell in love with Zan-Zan. It’s all because, “You was talkin’ ‘bout the box of chocolates someone got ya.”
“Okay good, you were listenin’ to me.”
“Duh! Of course I was. I always do.” Except when Zanka’s suddenly talking about someone else having feelings for him. “Guess I’m just surprised someone had the balls to get ya somethin’.” Besides Jabber himself, of course, but he’s so not the traditional gift-giving type. Zanka’s not either, to be honest. He’s the type to better appreciate a new mousepad or planner, not chocolates in a heart-shaped box.
At least that’s what Jabber thought, but as he watches Zanka absentmindedly run his finger over the velvet of the box, it occurs to him that, on days like this, maybe Zanka is willing to settle for basic ass bitches who give him generic gifts that’ll be clearanced out in 24 hours.
Zanka somewhat confirms this when he frowns at Jabber and says, “What’s that supposed to mean,” in reference to Jabber’s surprise about the gift.
Jabber is far too honest for his own good. “Don’t even start that shit, Zan. You got a prickly ass personality and you know it. But that’s what I like about ya.” Jabber hopes the way he says like indicates how much he means it. He might not offer roses or corporate-manufactured cards, but he does like Zanka a whole lot.
That should be enough, right?
“Fuck off, Jabber.”
Welp.
“I’m serious!”
“Whatever.”
“Zanka-”
“I got a date to get ready for.”
What?
Wait, what?
WHAT?!
“Hold up, you just said ya got chocolate, you ain’t say nothin’ about no date.”
“Oh. Well... thought it was implied, cuz of the chocolate, ya know?”
Jabber feels like his head is going to explode, and not from anything fun like overly loud music or working with too many chemicals without wearing a mask, something he does NOT recommend doing, by the way, unless your name is Jabber. “Cool. Well, have fun, I guess.”
Zanka looks… annoyed, for some reason. Is he supposed to congratulate his roommate turned crush for having a date? “You still ain’t answer my question,” Zanka says.
There was a question?
Jabber sorts through the pieces of his brain, starts checking each door to see if there’s any hint of a Zanka question, but everything inside of him is screaming about how Zanka has a date. He has a date and Jabber really should’ve shot his damn shot sooner — with store-bought affection, apparently. “Right, your question...”
Zanka sighs. “Knew you wasn’t listenin’ to me...”
Jabber wants to pull each and every individual loc of his hair until he has to spend tomorrow retwisting the whole thing. He settles for tugging one at random, hoping the slight sting in his scalp jolts the memory of whatever Zanka had asked him. Zanka has a date — tug — Zanka has a date — TUG — Zanka has a date — fucking TUUUUG. “I was listenin’, ya just kinda caught me off guard with this whole date thing.”
“Is it that much of a surprise that I got a date?”
“I ain’t say that!”
“Why are you yelling?!”
“Dude! Just re-ask the question!”
“Why you got an attitude all the sudden?!”
Because you finna go out with someone who ain’t named Jabber! “Fine, don’t re-ask the question, whatever.”
“No, no, I...” Zanka pauses and takes a breath, similar to when he meditates in the mornings, clearing his mind so he can properly focus. “Sorry, I’m just... I’m nervous. I ain’t never been on a date before, ya know? So I was just... askin’ for advice, I guess.”
Truthfully, Jabber’s never been on a date either. He’s never really met anyone interesting enough to do that sort of thing with. Not until Zanka and, wow, what a stab to the heart that is. “Right, yeah, sure. Ask away.” Jabber can bullshit some answers, can come up with whatever passes for an ice breaker these days. Favorite movies, favorite drink, any pets, no problem.
“How do you kiss someone?”
Jabber chokes on air. Air, of all things. Not water or food or the lingering residue of a chemical mixture, but the very air he’s breathing. “Pardon?”
“Did you just say pardon?”
“Yeah. I did. Pardon?!”
Zanka fiddles with the bow that’s tied around the heart-shaped box. “I mean I get how to do the basics, ya know? Talkin’ to someone about their interests and all that shit. But at the end of the night... a kiss happens, right?”
“Well technically it depends on how well you vibe with the person,” at least that’s what Jabber’s heard if the campus gossips are to be believed. “So a kiss might not even happen.”
“But what if it does?”
Then Jabber will figure out whose lips touched Zanka’s and make a chemical that melts them off their face. He doesn’t say that part outloud, though. That sort of thing would be frowned upon. Probably. “Then it just... does?”
“Right, so, how do I do it?”
“It ain’t exactly somethin’ I can put into words, man.” Not because he’s never done it, but that definitely has something to do with it. He suspects that something so intimate would be better with a more... hands-on approach. He also doesn’t say that part outloud. That sort of thing would be frowned upon. Prob-
“Okay. So show me.”
Jabber thinks his head really does explode this time. At the very least, he can’t stop himself from gasping, eyes wide as... a thing... that’s wide... wow, he’s really having trouble processing Zanka’s request.
Show him?
Show him with like... a video tutorial?
Show him with like... a book reference?
Show him with like... a...
“Okay yeah, that’s totally weird, right? Askin’ my roommate to kiss me so I know what I’m doin’ for this date.”
Show him with like... his lips.
He means show him with his lips!
“... maybe not that weird? You are... reeeeeally smilin’ a lot, Jabs.”
“My bad, man.” Don’t giggle don’t giggle don’t giggle. “Just... not exactly the advice I thought you’d be lookin’ for.”
“Right, of course.” Zanka starts to shift his body to turn away from Jabber. “Definitely crossed a line with that one, huh? I’ll figure it out myself-”
“NO!” Jabber doesn’t mean to scream. He doesn’t mean for his voice to crack either. Or maybe he does, he’s not sure anymore. What he is sure about is that he’s not going to miss a chance to kiss Zanka. He’s certain there’s some sort of conversation to be had about the morality of it all. He’s been into Zanka for centuries (two semesters), so yeah, he’s taking advantage of the situation. Take him to court, sue him, put him on trial, find him guilty, and lock him up; he really doesn’t give a single, solitary fuck. “I’ll show ya.”
“Oh.” Zanka turns so he’s facing Jabber on the couch. “Cool. Thanks, Jabber.”
“Yeah, man. Of course. No problem.”
Jabber takes the box of chocolate from Zanka and tosses it onto the floor. No need for that reminder to interrupt the moment. Zanka opens his mouth to complain but Jabber presses his finger against his lips, shaking his head as he says, “Don’t ruin the moment.”
“Jab-”
“Shhh. Let the moment happen, don’t interrupt it.”
Jabber has no experience with kissing, but he does have a Master’s degree in thinking about kissing Zanka, imagining what his lips feel like, taste like, what sounds he makes when he feels good. Like a good little chemist, he’s worked through it multiple times and is eager to show Zanka the results of his imagination running wild.
“Jabber?”
“Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Close your eyes, Zanka.” Jabber leans in close. “Just let yourself enjoy it.”
Jabber watches as Zanka closes his eyes, lips parting on their own as he sits and waits. Is that patience? Anticipation? Jabber’s too eager to find out.
There’s no fireworks.
Fireworks aren’t enough to describe the feeling.
Jabber does feel a sense of wonder when they kiss, but not like that awestruck feeling of seeing colors light up the sky. No, this feels more like figuring out an equation he’s been poking at, one of the ones you can write an entire thesis on because it leads to some kind of scientific breakthrough. Zanka’s lips are so undeniably him, soft in a way that beauty bloggers talk about, but there’s a fire at the edge — not an orange one, but a scalding hot blue one that Jabber wants to sink himself into.
He’s supposed to be showing Zanka how to kiss, but all Jabber wants to do is push his roommate down onto their amazing thrift store find of a couch and kiss him for so long that he skips out on his date.
That doesn’t happen.
What does happen is Zanka moves forward and pushes him down onto the couch instead.
“Wha-”
“Shhh.” Now it’s Zanka who’s pressing his finger against Jabber’s lips. “Let the moment happen, don’t interrupt it.”
All Jabber can do is nod.
“Close your eyes, Jabber. Just let yourself enjoy it.”
In normal circumstances, Jabber would have a smart ass reply in regards to how Zanka is repeating his supposed lessons right back to him. Instead, he simply nods again, not bothering to stop the giddy little sound that slips past his lips before Zanka kisses him.
A few things occur to Jabber in that moment. First and foremost, Zanka is a fucking liar. There’s no way he’s never kissed anyone, not when he so easily slips his tongue into Jabber’s mouth and does this thing that Jabber can’t describe. It’s completely indescribable beyond yes and good and more, and it’s making Jabber’s heart beat in a way that he’s sure Zanka can hear. So yeah, Zanka lied about that, which means he lied about needing kissing practice, which means he, quite possibly, lied about this date and-
“Do ya know how hard it is to outsmart a genius?” Zanka asks.
Jabber can’t say that the soft whine he makes when Zanka stops kissing him is embarrassing because not a single part of him is embarrassed about how deliriously high he feels right now.
“There is no date, Jabber,” then Zanka reaches down to grab the box of chocolates, pushing them against Jabber’s chest. “These are for you.”
Jabber finally finds his voice and uses it to say the first thing that comes to mind, eyes full of warmth and cheeks flushed from the memory of kissing his one and only. “So you’re the basic ass bitch?”
“… what?”
Jabber spends the rest of Valentine’s Day munching on overpriced chocolate filled with various artificial flavors, listening to Zanka call him an unappreciative piece of shit in as many words as he can come up with.
He handles all of the variables that make up Zanka Nijiku with a smile. He wouldn’t have it any other way.