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Summary:

"I think," Enjin paused to roll around the words before they left his tongue; "I think it made a difference to him. It made a difference to you."

--

Zanka struggles through the emotional fallout of the Doll Festival. Enjin tries to keep him from finding another well to crawl into.

Notes:

takes place a couple weeks after deadweight

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The look Gris gave him made Enjin groan as he picked up his glass and swallowed the last of his whisky.

“Alright, I’m going.” He dropped the glass back to the table and stood, sending a mild look of irritation at Gris and Follo as they made no move to close up.

“You let him drink, Enjin. Take responsibility.” Enjin sighed and patted his pockets checking for his smokes.

“Yeah yeah.” He could feel Gris’s gaze on his back and waved lazily over his shoulder as he exited the mostly empty mess hall. Zanka had said he was going to bed, so all Enjin had to do was make sure he made it there, had water for the morning, and-

Huh. Well, that wasn’t the way to the residence halls. Enjin started walking down the hall towards where he had seen Zanka disappear around a corner. If he wasn’t actually going to bed, there was only one other place he’d be going. He let his feet carry him down the long memorized path to the training ground, pausing in the doorway for a long moment once he arrived to let his eyes adjust to the dimmer light of the open space.

He wasn’t training, which Enjin hadn’t realized he had been bracing himself for. Instead, Zanka was sat on the ground by the bench Enjin usually sprawled in to watch his team throw each other around.

He watched Zanka watch the sky for long minutes, both of them momentarily lost in their own thoughts. Enjin became acutely aware of the chasm between them; a distance that had been threatening to open since Rudo’s initiation to the Cleaners. Enjin had become accustomed to Zanka’s shadow, his drive to become stronger, the way he would seek Enjin’s particular brand of validation. Now, standing in the opening to the space that seemed to hold both Zanka’s bone deep insecurities and his only path to escaping them, Enjin was struck by how much had changed in such a short amount of time.

"Thought you were going to bed." Zanka didn't startle at the interruption as he finally announced his presence. He let his footsteps fall heavy on the ground as he rounded the bench.

"Had some thinkin' ta do.” Enjin sighed as he leaned against the bench where Zanka was curled over his knees on the ground.

"Booze ain't exactly good for thinking Zanka." The young Giver kept his eyes on the ground and the moment lapsed into a gentle silence. Enjin sighed and moved to sit, stretching his legs out in front of him to cross his feet at the ankles and settle in. He could wait. He'd been waiting. A little longer wouldn't make much of a difference.

"Why are ya here, Enjin?" The question came after it became clear he had no intention of leaving. Still, Enjin delayed by fishing out a cigarette and lighting up before he answered.

"I'm hardly gonna let you wander around drunk Zanka. Especially with a face like that."

"Like what?" Enjin watched the back of his head for long moment. The training grounds were illuminated just enough to see the side of Zanka's face. His eyes were dark and shadowed by his bangs and his mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Same face you've been making since we got back from the Doll Festival." Enjin watched the line of his shoulders tense almost imperceptibly. Rather than agree or protest, Zanka hummed a vague acknowledgement.

"Came out here to brood about your brother then?" Zanka tipped his head up and back, his shadowed eyes catching the dull glow of the lights. Enjin ignored his stare and continued.

"For a family that disinherited you, they hold onto you pretty tight ya know?" Enjin blew a stream of smoke up towards the darkened sky. Felt the heavy weight of Zanka's eyes on him as he spoke.

"How long did it take those bruises to heal?" His casual tone belied the real intent of the inquiry, a pointed remark at Zanka's glaring silence since returning from the fight with Mymo and ensuing realizations.

"Too fuckin' long." Enjin hummed around his smoke and let them lapse back into silence. He hadn’t noticed at first, with all the blood and the panic. Had stepped back to give Eisha space to work and then had to deal with a head wound and Riyo and what felt like a hundred other things. Truthfully, he wouldn't have known about them at all if he hadn't been a nosy bastard and hung around while a nurse changed Zanka's bandages. He hadn't commented at the time; he’d seen the writing on the wall from Zanka's stone faced silence and distant eyes.

"Don't take this th'a wrong way but," Zanka sighed and dropped his head back down to stare at the hard packed dirt; "I wish he'd've just left me there ya know? After takin' tha' hit from Mymo. He shoulda just fuckin. Walked away." Enjin made a soft sound of acknowledgement as he ashed his cigarette. Tipped his head back to stare up at the darkened sky while he let Zanka's words settle over him.

"I can't say I agree." Eisha hadn't been completely clear on whether or not Goka's handling of Zanka had truly saved the boys life or not, but Enjin wasn't going to dissect the details.

"Riyo was nearby. Rudo too. He could'a left me, it wouldn't'a made a difference."

"I think," Enjin paused to roll around the words before they left his tongue; "I think it made a difference to him. It made a difference to you." Zanka scoffed and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“I wish I could jus’ hate him.” The words echoed in the space between them with a level of brutal honesty and raw hurt that Enjin knew he had no hope of soothing. Zanka heaved in a shuddering breath and Enjin tried not to feel guilty. He had long assumed he knew Zanka better than anyone. Sometimes even more than the boy knew himself. Had drawn him out of that well and watched him come alive under the acknowledgement his family and that damn academy had starved him of. Led him out from the oppressive shadows of the Nikiju’s expectations and illuminated the path towards strength on his own terms.

He knew Zanka’s relationship with his family lay at the core of his insecurities. He maybe even had an inkling at the true heart of it. That didn’t stop the raw confession from landing like a punch to his gut. The twisted thorns that caged Zanka’s perception of himself grew tighter with each tear he shed, drunk and emotionally devastated from an interaction Enjin hadn’t even known was happening until it was too late to do anything but observe the end.

“Sometimes the people who hurt us the most are the ones it’s hardest for us to hate.” Zanka’s back shuddered through another silent sob.

“That’s so fucked up,” he said around a hiccup. Silently, Enjin agreed.

“I spent so long tellin’ myself I didn’t miss ‘im,” he whispered, “so why’s it feel like this?”

“Because you didn’t stop loving him Zanka.” Enjin’s words sounded hollow to his own ears. It was a sore spot he tried his damnedest to avoid pressing on, the way Zanka’s family treated care. Something about driving a kid to want to rot in a well and then shun him for the strength it took to climb back out because it wasn’t the kind they could manipulate into line never sat well with him. Kyouka had ripped into him in that sharply efficient way of hers enough times that he had a pretty good fucking idea of what they were really pissed about.

Enjin was well aware of the way Zanka soaked up his praise and chased his approval. In the early days, he had genuinely thought he could fill that glaring hole in Zanka’s life, be the older brother Zanka had clearly wished Goka had been. Only, Goka had been what he wanted, once, and Enjin realized he could never make up for what Zanka had and lost, only for what he never knew at all. Enjin felt a sick twist in his gut; breathed through the heaviness of the dark thing that lived in him. A selfishness he hadn’t rooted out and burned, but coaxed to the surface and nurtured. It was a well known fact that throwing his name around got Zanka to do just about anything, and he should have done something about it before it came to this, but the smug satisfaction that bubbled in his chest each time doomed them both.

He had long since reconciled with the fact that he couldn’t replace Goka. So he had sought to become someone Goka could never be.

“I hate the way they see you,” he admitted. Their inability to give Zanka what he needed had never translated to ignorance. No, instead it was Kyouka who knew exactly what Zanka was made of; what he could achieve. Her cold hostility came from his inability to do it under her hand, believing his vital instrument to be a hindrance, and her resentment of Enjin amplified by his role as the catalyst in Zanka breaking free of their family’s chains. Goka took his lead from their sister, but his antagonism came from his own failure to keep Zanka where he could keep his eyes on him.

“I don’t even know how they see me anymore,” Zanka confessed. Enjin wanted to ask what Goka had said in those first minutes after Zanka carved a wound through Mymo’s face and had his chest caved in in return. Rudo had told him a sliver of it, shaking with adrenaline and rage at Goka’s nonchalant and chastising attitude. Enjin hadn’t known how to explain that those were the hallmarks a Nijiku’s love while Zanka lay unconscious and bloody between them.

With a deep sigh, Enjin stubbed out his cigarette and flicked the butt away.

"We aren't going to solve the mystery of your dysfunctional family tonight Zan. Up with you now, it's time for bed." The blond stood and extended a hand down towards the teens hunched body. It took a few long moments before he reached up and grasped Enjin's warm palm. He yelped in surprise when Enjin tugged him up quick, causing him to fall against the bigger man's chest. The arm Enjin wrapped around his shoulders kept him close under the guise of steadying him. Zanka’s hands curled in the fabric of Enjin’s shirt and he could feel where his tear stained face rested close to his collarbone. He bent his head until his nose brushed the ashy strands of Zanka’s hair.

"Sometime soon, we're gonna have a real talk about how your brother looks at you, and the meaning of the threats your sister sends my way," he promised almost too quietly for Zanka to hear. His lips whispered across the top of his head where it was bowed into the warm safety of Enjin’s throat.

"But not tonight,” he acquiesced with a sigh. Tonight, he was going to wrestle with his own demons before rising in the morning to drag the rest of Zanka’s out of him.

“Tonight your mopey ass is gonna go snuggle with Riyo. Don't bitch, I know the two of you have sleepovers. Rudo's shit at keeping his mouth closed." Zanka’s shoulders slumped in relief despite the irritated grumbling Enjin couldn't make out.

"Watch it, or I'll tell Rudo you had a sleepover without him tomorrow."

Notes:

still choking on those flashback manga panels while zanka's being hauled around like a sack of potatoes.