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Zanka sneezed, it made the back of his throat burn and his already dry eyes sting. He sniffed and coughed, recovery of said sneeze very poor.
He fucking hated being sick, Enjin locked him in his fucking room, and he wasn't allowed to leave it for minimum 24 hours. All because the last time he was sick[Which, as weak as it makes him feel, was more recent and happened more often than you'd think] Zanka was found in the training room on the floor.
So now when he got sick, he either had to hide it[Which worked twice, but now he's been with the cleaners long enough they know his tells.] or he was forbidden from all training and locked in his room to prevent him from sneaking out into the training room at ungodly hours of the night, to be found in a puddle of cold sweat shivering with an 104 fever.
Zanka lied on his left side, and curled in on himself. If anyone else were in the room, he'd probably be laying on his back, huffing like this is unnecessary[because it was… mostly.] and complaining about his boredom, not his headache-bordering-migraine, or his throat that decided it had died and gone to hell, or his pain.. everywhere. Now that he thought about it.
He let out a pathetic noise, something between the makings of a sob and a whine, something that wouldn't even make it to the back of his throat if someone else was around. He hated feeling like this, and he hated that he was stuck like this. He hated being alone while feeling this way, but he knew if someone was around he was going to feel even worse, so he was also thankful for it. Couldn't even really make up his mind about that though, because somewhere in his mind he wanted some kind of presence, and it made him curse his stupid performative strength he put forth—
He didn't even know why he did it at this point, everyone knew what he was here. A failed Hell-guard member, a weakling who loses his fights, gets sick easily, and craves approval from those around him. And yet he keeps his facade up anyway.
Made him wonder who he was doing it for. Others, or himself?
He took the ball of his palm and hit his forehead with it, hating this stupid train of thought.
Why did being sick have to make his mind so fucking existential?
He just kept lying there, trying to ignore his thoughts like usual when there was nothing to be done about them.
…
Just when he thought things weren't going to get any more miserable, and he started floating into a feverish half-sleep, he heard a thud on his window.
THUNK.
Zanka promptly ignored it, assuming that it was just Riyo sneaking out, or something. She did that when it was late, and he didn't know exactly how late it was, but surely it was night, based off the lack of sunlight going through his haphazardly drawn curtains
until…
THUNK!!
A second noise sounded, slightly louder than the last one, and sounded more sharp. Like too much harder and the window would be shattered.
This alarmed Zanka, because as much as he felt like absolute shit, he could not slack if this was someone trying to sneak into the Cleaners base. [Even with his wishing that a rock would somehow fly through the window and fly into his head to crack his skull to relieve some of the painful pressure, he had a duty as a Cleaner.]
THUNK!!!
A third one now was heard, and he sat up, ignoring how his body protested violently with nausea, his vision blurring at the edges, and pain doubling for what he was now officially categorizing as a migraine. A small groan escaped him as he adjusted, and he held his head with his hand, regretting the decision.
He swung his legs off of his bed, and realized just how weak he felt. He also realized that he was now shaking as he stood, grabbing for Lovely Asisstaff leaning against his wall for some needed support.
He barely began to take a step when, as if to say 'hurry up!', a fourth
THUNK !!!
Happened, which now worried Zanka. Before he was just going to check and then turn over and let the quickly snowballing exhaustion take him, but now he might have to actually do something. The dread made him move slightly quicker, emphasis on slightly.
He finally reached his curtain, 7 steps forward later, and he looked outside.
Cold, sharp, and aggressive… Something? Pulled at Zanka's gut. It wasn't positive, whatever it was.
At the ground level, stood Jabber. Smiling all giggly, and a rock in hand, arm reared back to throw a rock. His eyes flashed with recognition, and he dropped the rock before waving wildly, like some stupid giddy toddler.
Zanka and Jabber have been on… Weird terms lately. Ever since the trash beast[Where that fucker Jabber somehow found the chance to exchange their blood on the stupid chokers] Jabber would call him, and then harass him, and then on tough days, Zanka would agree to meet somewhere, they'd beat the shit out of each other, and then part ways.
He only did so because some irrational, selfish, and completely idiotic impulse in his brain had decided to see where it would go. And now it's gone here.
Jabber scaling the cleaner base wall, at some ungodly hour, while Zanka is far too exhausted to do this shit.
When Jabber reaches the window, Zanka doesn't want to open it. He really doesn't.
And then Zanka opens the window.
"Heyyy bad attitude, how're ya on this fineee~ evening?" Jabber greets as he throws his head through the window and swings a leg in, stepping inside like this is normal, completely, totally the norm.
He glares and verbally ignores the stupid nickname he hates, cutting to the chase by asking "What'rya doin' 'ere?" Voice more gone than he'd thought, hoarse with dryness, and his accent is stronger than usual too, sickness and exhaustion preventing him from trying to tone it down any.
"Proving the nickname tonight, yaknow? If you want anybody to really like you you're gonna have to try some smilin' here and there."
The raider goes to visualize this by reaching for Zanka's face, Zanka takes his left arm, the one not using Lovely as a make-shift cane, and grabs Jabbers wrist to stop him. "What. Do. Ya. Want." He clears his throat, "I ain't in the mood for yer shit."
Jabber giggles when Zanka weakly squeezes his wrist for point-proving purposes. "I can tell, you look like death and then some." His stupid smile grows wider somehow. "Which is why 'm here. Got something that oughta make you feel allll better."
Before mankira is even activated, Zanka has already let go of Jabber's wrist and taken a quick step back.
"No-" Something almost like fear slips through his voice at the thought of being poisoned right now, and he hates himself for it, but he already feels like shit, can't Jabber see that?? "No. I ain't playin' none of yer games. Get outta 'ere, Jabber." His voice lacks the intimidating or warning tone he was trying for, coming out more desperate.
And maybe he was, a little. He was hurting from no fault of his own, and he was barely standing straight, and his head hurt.
Jabbers smile, for maybe a fraction of a second, faltered. "Nahh, man, Ya got the wrong idea." He shakes his head an drops his hand. "Your friend here," He gestures at himself, specifically mankira's left claw, "Has actually got some stuff to help you. Ya boy jabber can't have his opponent all sniffly, or he can't fight. And that ain't no fun." While he spoke, he had taken a step forward, smiling turning into a slight frown.
"Why the hell would I trust ya?" He wasn't buying none of this for a second.
"You ain't really gettin' a choice, Za-za."
Jabber stepped forward and when Zanka dodged right to avoid the left claw, Jabber saw this coming[and was also much faster to stop it,] so he blocked the failed escape maneuver by simply jutting out his right arm to stop the side-step, and then took his left hand and scraped Zanka's exposed forearm.
What he didn't see coming was Zanka stepping forward to slam Lovely down on Jabbers foot, so he swiped deeper than he meant to, and as such the cleaner grit his teeth with a wince and Jabber now stepped back.
"The hell was that for, man!? I'm tryyyna help you!" Jabber rolled his eyes.
Blood dripped from Zanka's new wound, which is exactly what he feared would happen. No he was going to have to go on a horrible fucking trip on top of being ill, with gods shittiest liar here to make even that so much worse. "Fuck." He grabbed and activated Asisstaff, with the intention of picking her up for a swing. The anima build up was like a concentrated adrenaline, and for a moment it made Zanka feel like his normal self again.[Mostly]
"Zanka, my friend, you ain't gotta be like this! I prommy it'll feel alright if you just wait a min." Jabber shook his head no, hands raising like a surrender motion.
If it was anyone else, anytime else, Zanka would have swung anyway. But this was Jabber. Who is putting his hands up in surrender. Normally, he would want to get hit, purposefully piss Zanka off to get him riled up, but he isn't. And on top of that, he can still move. There isn't any pain burning his veins from the inside out, and he isn't vomiting up his liver.
So… Unless its a delayed release[Something Jabber had only used once, and it actually fucked him over because Zanka was able to beat him nearly to death before the poison even slowed him down] then he was actually… telling… the truth? "…Ya were… bein' fer-real?" He asked, shocked at this never seen before development.
Zanka deactivated Lovely Asisstaff, settling her back down for cane usage. And as such, the anima that was keeping him upright dissipated, and it felt as if he was going to collapse.
"Yup! I'm always being straight-up." Jabber nodded decisively. "Ya hurt me with your doubts though, as if your boy would ever deceive." He smiled now, and batted his eyelashes.
"Sure." Zanka deadpanned "Now whaddya' even drug me with, I ain't feelin' nothin.", he went to step towards his bed—
But suddenly, something hit him like a soft bag of bricks.
His limbs felt like pure lead, and his bones felt like they were made of jello. His entire body relaxed, not in a paralyzing way but in a way that made Lovely's assistance essential for staying standing. On the outside, he did nothing but lean on asisstaff a little more on the next step. Internally, he nearly fell asleep standing up.
"Don't 'xactly remember, but it got me feeling tip-top after knockin' me out for a good long while when I was down, so it should do the same for ya." Jabber pursed his lips and closed his eyes as he tried to properly recall. "Hit pretty hard and fast though, warnin' ya."
"Uhuh…" Zanka sat on his bed, exhaustion turning to sleepiness as everything drooped. He didn't care about the blood currently coagulating on his arm, or the raider in his room, or anything, really for that matter.
A shit-eating grin re-plastered on the Raiders face, "Takin' that as a sign it's hitting right about now for ya." He giggled. "You gonna be out soon, prolly oughta lay down." He suggested, as if Zanka had plans for anything else.
When Jabber turned back towards the still open window and began to walk towards it, a pang of something sad made Zanka's chest hurt, in... Some kind of ache. It didn't make full sense to him, but ti was uncomfortable enough for him to want to do something about it.
Zanka stared at Jabber as he went to slip out of the window again, still sitting up, head fuzzy, brain fog and tiredness settling where shame usually sat. "Wait." Zanka spoke, and he hardly recognized his own voice.
Jabber turned, and for a moment his face was neutral, looking at Zanka's half-asleep face, and slightly swaying body, his face broke into a smile. Something that should have been mocking, but came off much more fond than he'd had liked. "Yes, Zan-Ka?" He played with the syllables, knowing that at this point he could've said anything and he wouldn't fully register it anyway.
"Ya can... Lay down too." He didn't really know what he was really wanting, or why he was asking this, or that he was going to regret it in the morning. Yet he asked anyway.
It was less of an ask and more of a tell. A very weak command, but he wasn't asking Jabber to lay down, he was telling him he could. Some kind of pride still maintained in Zanka's delirious state.
"You sure? Wouldn't want ya cleaner buddies on my ass…" Then he considered, "Wellll… Maybe I would want it a lil', but not at the ass-crack of dawn or while 'm tryna get some sleep….."
It took Zanka a minute to respond, Jabber could only imagine trying to think right now would be harder than wading through mud. "Ain't comin' in. They gotta 'let me rest' or sumn'" He did lazy hand quotes. "Jus' lay down so… we can sleep."
Something told him he shouldn't, but he's always done what he shouldn't anyway, "Alrighty Zan-zan, whatever the ill demands," He rolled his eyes with performative purpose.
Zanka lays down then, scooting to the wall so Jabber has space to lay. As soon as his back hits the mattress he swears he's going to be asleep any second.
Jabber felt… Something. When he layed down, and Zanka turned over, and immediately clung to him.
He didn't know, or really care. It felt similar to when took some banging toxin, and his heart would slow but skip, at the same time somehow. His body burned where Zanka had his arms wrapped around him, not painfully. Then Zanka nuzzled. Into his chest.
"Awww Za-Za… You'd be soo embarrassed if you were conscious enough to be…" Jabber made light of this development, not like it was anything serious anyway- and tried to stay still.
He set his right hand on the small of Zanka's back, securing him in a way. Not like he needed to, but it felt natural.
"G'night." Zanka mumbled, holding him as close as his body would let him.
"Night night," Jabber's voice tried to come off as teasing, but it was sweet. Too sweet for his liking.
He was going to have to… compensate for this.
Something about the way Zanka's breathing evened out relaxed Jabber, he was tired before but not tired enough to sleep. But the ambience of the wind outside, weight on his chest from Zanka, and the much better quality beds than the Raiders ever had lulled Jabber to sleep too.
When Zanka woke up the next morning, he felt… Better.
His throat didn't burn near as badly, and his head only had the lingering remnants of a Migraine. He could actually breath through his nose too. He wasn't magically all better, but he was doing better than he would've thought.
He also, was very comfortable. His bed was warm, and his head laid on a pillow. He barely remembers falling asleep though. He must've cried himself to sleep, if he remembers correctly.
The only thing off was his weird ass dream, but he hardly recollects it past seeing… Jabber, of all people during his fever dream. So he brushes it off as cabin fever from not being able to train or fight for a couple days.
He doesn't open his eyes for a second, enjoying the rarely felt comfort.
And when he does open his eyes, he's surprised by what awaits his sight. Regrets doing so.
His drawers are open and clearly rummaged through, his lamp is on the floor, his window is open, and there is a bunch of scratches on the wall that read, "good morning, bad attitude" and there's a little heart next to it.
Zanka sits up, re-assessing what his eyes have already told him.
His pants are unfolded, some thrown on the floor, his polishing cloths for asisstaff are also strewn about, and his top drawer, where he keeps his writing utensils, money, and rock… collection[That he acquired by accident.. mostly.]
He stares at the scratches on the walls. The nickname. The STUPID heart.
It doesn't take much before he realizes, and subsequently, remembers.
"… SHIT."