Archive of Our Own ^beta

Zanka had started with good intentions.

Or at least he'd started innocently enough.

"Jabber."

He'd just wanted to get a substantial win against his sparring partner.

"Jabber, come on—"

And maybe, just a tiny, little bit, he'd wanted to try holding Jabber a bit softer.

"Listen to me."

He'd been blinded by his own hubris. He'd been far too ignorant towards the consequences. And now he had to reckon with that, as he slowly realized—

He'd created a monster.

"Abby, ya gotta move." Zanka groaned, pushing against the head that was currently burrowed into his chest. "I gotta get back soon. 'M supposed to help Rudo with some training."

A very clingy, affectionate little monster.

Honestly he should've known this would happen. Damned genius that he was, Zanka should've figured that Jabber would be a menace once he started to get the hang of affection.

It certainly hadn't been an easy road. Since the day of their bet, there had been plenty of hiccups, plenty of setbacks, and plenty more breakdowns from both sides. Even now, it still wasn't as if either of them had managed to grasp the concept fully.

It'd been uncomfortable, at times. Complicated. Vulnerable. Definitely vulnerable.

But they'd kept going.

Kept learning how to blend the softness with the pleasure and the violence.

Kept trying, even when they were failing horribly.

Which led Zanka to his current situation.

Lying down on Jabber's bed, in said Raider's own personal hideout. He still had trouble believing that Jabber had willingly let him in here. He had even more trouble believing that this wasn't even the first time he'd been here.

It wasn't affiliated with the Raiders in any way other than Jabber being the one to live there, just some abandoned building a little ways outside of some town, hidden well against a rock formation. Surprisingly enough, it wasn't all that far from Cleaners HQ, a fact that would've terrified Zanka if you'd told him that after his first meeting with Jabber.

The first thing he'd noticed— after Jabber had practically dragged him here one day after a fight, completely at random, ranting about some new toxin he was making rather than acknowledging the monumental, groundbreaking fact that he was taking Zanka to his home— was how incredibly lived in the space had felt.

Of course, there'd been Jabber's lab, filled to the brim with vials and pages upon pages of notes. Zanka's mind still couldn't begin to comprehend the room, not knowing much about basic chemistry at all, never mind whatever Jabber had going on here.

Then, there was Jabber's bedroom. Plants in the windowsill. Different articles of clothing— normal, casual clothes, not his Raiders uniform— slung over dressers. A patchy, well-loved couch standing against a wall.

It was a silent gesture, but a deeply intimate one all the same. Allowing Zanka to look at all this, allowing Zanka to even be here at all, the idea of it was almost incomprehensible. Giving Zanka permission to look upon his life, to see what he kept tucked away.

It felt like the flow of time went by differently here.

But that didn't mean their time was unlimited.

Jabber seemed to disagree, though.

He was latched onto Zanka, just barely an inch to the side from being fully on top of him, holding the Cleaner's chest like it was a hostage. It was like Zanka was being constricted by a snake, only this snake wasn't trying to kill him, and was in fact, being quite nice about it.

That didn't change the fact that he wasn't listening.

"He can wait." Jabber tilted his head up, planting his chin on Zanka's chest so that he could look him in the eye, chin unwittingly digging into the Cleaner's skin just a bit too harshly. "I ain't done with you yet."

"That's too damn bad." Zanka grabbed one of the arms wrapped around his chest. "I was already late gettin' back last time 'cause of that new paralytic ya stabbed me with. They're gonna start catchin' on if you keep this up."

"I dunno. Think we've got another ten years before Rudo starts catching on."

"It's not him I'm worried about." Zanka rolled his eyes. "Obviously."

The kid had literally flung shit at him when they'd first met. Zanka deserved to insult him a bit behind his back, sue him.

Jabber shifted himself so that he was directly on top of Zanka, head propped up on the Cleaner's sternum.

"I mean it, Abby." Zanka gave him a small look of exasperation.

Jabber said nothing, only staring.

"I have to go."

Nothing, and then—

"Damn, you're gorgeous Zan-zan." Jabber buried his head back into Zanka's chest. "Almost distracted me for a second."

"Complimentin' me ain't gonna help!" Zanka glared down at the Raider, pretending his face wasn't burning red right now.

"It was worth a try."

"I'm gonna push ya off this bed."

"Promise to push hard?"

Zanka didn't dignify that with a response, staring at the top of the Raider's head with a sudden overabundance of bloodlust.

"Can I just have one more minute?" Suddenly, Jabber's voice had sobered, playful tone all but vanishing. "'S important, I promise."

And—

Zanka had always been a strong-willed person. Or at least, he liked to consider himself one.

He stuck to his word.

But when Jabber said it like that?

"Fine. But that's it." Zanka sighed in defeat, letting his free hand rest on top of Jabber's head.

Yeah. He hadn't stood a chance.

To his surprise, as soon as he'd relented, Jabber had slipped off of him, moving off the bed entirely, walking across the room. Zanka watched him curiously, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He'd assumed Jabber had just wanted some extra time being held, but he seemed to be on some sort of mission.

He watched as Jabber stopped right in front of a dresser.

Not just a dresser. The dresser.

The dresser that held Jabber's jewelry hoard, to be exact.

It'd been the biggest discovery he'd uncovered since Jabber had first let him in here. The lab, the poisonous plants, the casual clothes— those were all things that, while unconfirmed, Zanka could still infer. What he hadn't been expecting was the giant pile of jewelry gathered on one of Jabber's dressers.

There were rings, necklaces, earrings, bracelets, and more pieces of jewelry Zanka didn't even know the names of, either hung up and displayed on various racks and other random, spindly-enough objects, or laid out neatly on the dresser. Not a single space on that dresser seemed to be empty, and the worst part was that Jabber had told him there was more in the drawers.

It was almost like an altar, offerings displayed with the utmost dignity.

Despite the excess— yes, excess, because frankly, Zanka had never seen that much jewelry in his life— he couldn't help but respect it. After all, Jabber hadn't bought almost any of it. He'd told Zanka about how he found most of the pieces discarded somewhere, whether that be in ruins, alleyways, or even buried in the ground. He talked about how he'd clean them, polish them up, and fix them if they were bent or broken.

"I think all the jewelry in the world is part of one big family," he'd told Zanka once, admittedly very high, running his hands over Mankira's rings, "So I gotta watch out for all 'Kira's brothers and sisters. Can't let 'em get all banged up and forgotten. Guess they're right about Givers being hoarders."

The strangest part of it was that Zanka hadn't seen Jabber wear any of the jewelry displayed on his dresser. No, instead he just stuck to Mankira and his usual bracelets.

So what could he want from them now?

"C'mere." Jabber beckoned him over, eyes not leaving the mountain of jewelry.

Zanka pushed himself off the bed, ambling over with a confused frown on his face. As soon as he was within reach, Jabber grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him closer, positioning Zanka as if he were some art piece he was studying. He stared at Zanka for a good, long second before snapping back to the jewelry pile. His hands reached for a row of necklaces, flipping throw them expertly, stopping every once in a while to examine one.

Was he—

Just as suddenly as he'd started, Jabber stopped, pausing on one particular necklace. He looked it over for a second more, thumbing over it as if searching for something, then lifted it from its spot on the wrack, pulling it into his hands to undo the clasp.

He turned his eyes back to Zanka, a subtle determination behind them.

Jabber took the two ends of the necklace in both of his hands, leaning forward and clasping it around Zanka's neck.

"I'm letting you borrow this 'till we see each other again." Jabber let his hands linger at the back of the other's neck. "All this stuff is pretty important to me, so you better bring that one back to me in one piece, man. You got that?"

It felt like a ring of glass had been placed on him.

It was just a necklace, a necklace he'd never even seen Jabber wear, and yet it felt like it was precious, and it was, as Jabber had just told him.

And it was being entrusted to him.

Jabber, the masochistic Raider who'd tried to kill him, was trusting Zanka with part of his personal collection, letting it leave his hands with no solid guarantee of seeing its return other than Zanka's word.

Zanka ran his hands over the pendant, a small blue gem with several, small silver chains hanging from the bottom like a tassel.

"Yeah." He nodded slowly, still a bit disoriented by the gesture, but firm in his promise. "I'll keep it safe for ya."

"Good. That's all I wanted." Jabber gave one last touch to the necklace, lightly pressing the gem into Zanka's chest. "See ya, Zan-zan."

It felt like a kiss goodbye.

* * *

It was like Zanka couldn't keep his hands off the thing. For the entirety of his journey back to Cleaners HQ, he fiddled with the pendant. He counted the number of silver tassels, memorized the shape and weight of the gem, felt for every groove and imperfection—

Well. He did have a tendency to get obsessive.

But that was neither here nor there.

Above all else, the fact that he'd actually been given the necklace was still difficult to believe. It was like being let into Jabber's home for the first time all over again.

Only, this felt even more vulnerable.

Because with the hideout, Jabber was always there. He could always see what Zanka was doing; he could always kick him out if he didn't want him there anymore. No matter what, Jabber still had some degree of control.

With the necklace, all control of it was being surrendered to Zanka.

It was a stark reminder of how much closer the two of them had become. Of what an intimate thing this rivalry had morphed into.

The Raider had become such a big part of his life. The most profound part of it was that Zanka knew he'd been changed by Jabber, undeniably and irreversibly so.

It was a heavy thing to acknowledge, no matter how simple it sounded.

Zanka held the pendant again, a smile coming to his face.

Maybe he was more okay with it than he should be.

But when his chest felt like this, so light, bubbling with some sort of, indescribable giddiness, he found it hard to care.

Zanka hardly realized how much time had passed on his journey, only realizing he'd reached his destination when he'd looked up to see the figure of Cleaners HQ in front of him.

And now he was back to the other part of his life, the part that he loved so dearly, the part that loved him back and accepted him in equal turn.

In spite of that—

The necklace now felt like it weighed about five tons.

He lifted it, tucking it beneath his jacket, hidden from sight.

It couldn't be seen.

It could never be seen.

* * *

It was a week or so after that that Zanka really started thinking about it. That was to say, this whole situation.

It was a weird feeling, keeping something like this away from the Cleaners.

From the people he was closest with, above any blood relations or rivalry.

It was weird not telling Eishia the truth about where his injuries came from.

It was weird making excuses to Rudo for being late for training.

It was weird stepping around the truth whenever Riyo asked him what he'd been up to during his outings.

It felt wrong. Every deception felt like a betrayal.

And of course, even more so than anything else, it was lying to Enjin that felt the worst.

Enjin, who he looked up to. Enjin, who'd convinced him to climb out of that well. Enjin, who'd given him so much, much more than he deserved.

And how was Zanka repaying him?

Sneaking around behind his back so that he could spar with and kiss a Raider.

At the same time, he couldn't feel too bad. Because, by necessity, absolutely no one could know about his relationship with Jabber. If they found out, that would be the end of it. No room for arguing, no room for discussion.

And at this point, Zanka was in far too deep to survive that.

Worse, they might consider his actions to be a form of treason against the Cleaners. Obviously, Zanka had never revealed anything to Jabber about the organization, and it wasn't like Jabber had ever asked either, but would they really trust him after discovering all his other lies? He could be considered a liability.

Thrown out.

Even worse than that, far worse—

They could inform the Hell Guard.

So yeah, as guilty as he felt about it, the Cleaners could absolutely, not in a million years, not ever find out about him and Jabber.

"Something got you worried, Zanka?"

Speak of the devil.

"Enjin." Zanka turned around to face the other Cleaner, trying to return his face to a neutral expression. "No, it's nothin'. Just thinkin'."

"You know you can talk to us if something's bothering you, Zan-zan." Enjin ruffled his hair, undoing every bit of styling the younger Cleaner had put into it that morning.

"I know." Zanka tried to steady himself as the contact rattled his head.

"I'm serious, it doesn't have to be me." Enjin increased the intensity of his ruffling teasingly. "Riyo, Eishia, Rudo, anyone that—"

"I know." Zanka pushed Enjin's hand away, unable and unwilling to hide the small smile on his face. "Really. I do. Everything's fine, I promise."

It wasn't entirely a lie. After all, outside of the looming threat of his secret being unveiled, things were actually pretty okay.

"You leaving again?" A shade of seriousness entered Enjin's tone as he eyed the hallway Zanka had been walking down before his interruption, a hallway they both knew led to the reception, and consequently, the front door. "We had a mission earlier, you should get some rest."

"I'll only be gone for a little bit." Zanka tightened his grip on Lovely Assistaff, an unconscious comfort. "I'll be back before it gets dark out, unless I'm runnin' behind."

"Yeah, you better not be running behind. Being out on your own at night 's a pretty stupid idea." Enjin studied him for a moment. "You've been going out by yourself a whole bunch lately. What do you even get up to out there anyways?"

That was the question, wasn't it?

Were Zanka's visits really that excessive?

Yes, they'd been meeting up more often since "The Incident", (or "The Incident: The Second Coming", according to Jabber), but surely it couldn't be that bad.

Could it?

That was neither here nor there, currently his focus should be being used on thinking up some kind of excuse or explanation to appease his senior.

Best to use a little truth in it. It'd help.

"…It's mostly trainin'. Tryin' out different terrains and stuff." Zanka shrugged, avoiding eye contact. "I need to get stronger, and trainin' here is fine, but I'm also used to it. Y'know?"

Technically, it wasn't even a lie. And hey, it was helping. Zanka had been winning more of his fights with Jabber recently, a fact that he took great pride in. I mean, that's how this whole thing started.

No need to mention how it was going.

Enjin looked him up and down for another second, searching and scanning for—

"Okay, but don't push yourself too hard. You're already doing great, you've improved a whole lot." He gave the boy a firm, comforting pat on the shoulder. "Overworking yourself and passing out isn't gonna help anyone, least of all you."

"I've got it. Ya don't hafta worry." The compliment was enough for him to briefly forget his inner turmoil, the smile on his face widening a bit more. "I'll see ya."

"Make sure you get to spend the night in your own bed tonight," Enjin nodded, grinning as he began moseying back the way he'd came from, "not an infirmary one. See ya, Zan-zan."

And just like that, he was around the corner and out of sight.

And now, Zanka could finally take his right hand out of pocket.

Could finally stop trying to hide the bracelet that was clasped around his wrist.

This one had been a bit riskier. At least for the necklaces, hiding them beneath his jacket was no problem. However, said jacket also left his wrists entirely exposed, and hiding them under his undershirt was out of the question.

Which meant Zanka had only been able to enjoy the weight and feel of the bracelet for the short trip back to Cleaners HQ. He'd tried to savor it, but the walk had felt shorter than ever that day.

A small nod to Semiu, and Zanka was on his way out the front doors, starting on his trek.

He looked down at the bracelet, being able to appreciate it for the first time outside of the comfort and privacy of his room. It was a simple silver bangle, upon a first glance.

If you looked again, you'd see the intricate engravings that spanned its surface.

It really was pretty. Zanka probably could have gotten away with wearing it. He'd just have to say that he bought it somewhere. It'd only be that simple. Even when it would mysteriously disappear, he could've just said he'd lost it.

But claiming it as his, when it was one of Jabber's prized, carefully looked after treasures, even for a simple lie, felt wrong.

Real nice logic, Zanka. You can excuse lying to your chosen family about half your life, but you draw the line at lying about a bracelet.

He ran a finger over the engravings, feeling over the small, detail-wrought lines.

Ever since that day, back when the Raider had placed that necklace on him, it seemed Jabber had developed a small obsession with decorating Zanka. He'd been a bit more sparing to start, but now it seemed that every visit had to be concluded with dress-up time. Jabber seemed to put a lot of thought into his decisions, often wavering between options and holding pieces of jewelry up to Zanka's body for reference.

Zanka didn't really understand it.

But watching the focused look on Jabber's face every time he pulled Zanka over to make a selection, recognizing the amount of trust involved with such an action, seeing the Raider's dedication to this task over and over again—

It was sweet. Probably sweeter than Jabber realized.

The concept of "borrowing" also made Zanka pause whenever he thought about it. Obviously, he understood that the jewelry was important to Jabber, so it made sense for him to want it back, but he couldn't help but think there was more too it.

Maybe he could try and figure it out on the way over.

It was part of the whole "trust" thing, making Zanka promise to return it. But what more could there be to it other than trusting Zanka to care for his possessions? Why did Zanka feel like there was more to it?

He was probably just overthinking it. In which case, he better cut that out now.

Overthinking about Jabber had historically ended in disaster, after all.

* * *

"I swear, it looks even nicer than when I gave it to you, man." Jabber rotated the bangle on Zanka's wrist, delight dancing across his eyes. "You took real nice care of it, didn't ya? You're always so good to 'em."

"I just cleaned it up a bit." Zanka tried to turn his head away, Jabber's hold on the bracelet preventing him from being able to fully hide his flushed face. "Didn't want it dirtied up from the walk back to HQ. Nothing fancy."

That was a lie. When he'd gotten back to his room that day, he'd gently cleaned out the bangle's engravings with a toothpick. He hadn't had to do too much work, Jabber evidently looked after his collection well, but he'd insisted on being thorough, and had consequently ended up engrossed in the task for about an hour.

"Ain't that nice?" Jabber slipped the bangle off of Zanka's wrist, holding it a bit closer to his eyes, smirking. "'Nothing fancy' my ass."

Zanka watched as the other boy returned the bangle to its resting place on his dresser, a gentle metallic chorus sounding as he adjusted the other jewelry.

"You sure we can't fight today?" The question rolled off of Jabber's lips easily, asked while he was still facing the dresser.

"Not enough time." Zanka stepped closer to the Raider, trying to catch a glimpse of his expression. "'Sides, I told Enjin I'd relax today. He'd be pissed if I came back all bruised up."

"That's alright." Jabber hummed, turning his head lazily to look back at the Cleaner. "You can be my lab assistant, then. I'm on the edge of cooking up something real nice."

That's alright.

From Jabber.

Who loved a good fight more than anything else.

The acceptance surely wasn't out of any lack of a desire for a fight, obviously, that's how both of them were, but—

How did they get here?

Almost unconsciously, Zanka moved closer to Jabber, as if looking him over for any answer, any doubt, any—

"Ya got earrings in." Zanka blinked, surprised, lifting a hand up to Jabber's left ear.

They were simple things, just small, silver ball studs, but they were there all the same. It was the first time Zanka had seen him wearing a new piece of jewelry.

"Hm? Oh yeah." Jabber briefly pinched the earring that was in his free ear lobe. "Decided to check if the holes actually did close up. I ain't put anything in them for a while. I only had to poke 'em through a little bit. No bleeding or nothing."

Zanka grabbed the edges of Jabber's face, turning it towards him before reaching out to hold Jabber's right ear lobe, moving his thumb faintly over the soft skin.

"It's all healed up now?"

"Yep." Jabber chuckled, placing a hand on Zanka's chin, slipping his thumb past the younger's lips, tracing it along the edge of his canines. "Unless you wanna redo it for me."

"I ain't cleaning all that a second time." Zanka grabbed Jabber's wrist, pulling his hand back. "And I don't wanna ruin 'em again either. Not when ya finally might start wearin' some of those earrings instead of just starin' at 'em. They'd fit ya real well."

Jabber went quiet at that, staring down at the hand on his wrist, mouth shifting as he bit the inside of his cheek.

Ah. He knew that face.

Jabber was flustered.

Zanka took a certain pride in being able to do that.

"Aww, do they make me look pretty, Zan-zan?" Jabber grinned in an attempt at recovery, cupping a hand behind his ear to show off the stud.

And even though Zanka knew it was a distraction, knew that it was an act Jabber had thrown on to hide his embarrassment—

There was something about that smile, something about that voice, something about those two silver studs—

"When did I say that?" Zanka sputtered, out of a lack of a response.

"Damn, ice cold." Jabber laughed, holding both of his hands to his chest in mock offense. "Go ahead and call me ugly then, why don't ya?"

"Never said that either." Zanka huffed, rubbing his temples. "What'd ya want me to help ya with again? Better not involve me being the test subject."

"Changed my mind. We'll do it later." Jabber glanced at the bed, stretching his arms above his head.

Zanka knew what that meant too.

Even though Jabber had gotten more comfortable with fitting into the flow of gentle affection, he still seemed to be unable to initiate it. Instead, he left Zanka to play detective, picking up on the smallest of clues, those tiny requests in disguise.

"Yer such a baby, Abby." Zanka grabbed Jabber by the collar of his shirt, pulling him over to the bed and all but throwing both of them onto it.

Asshole. Making Zanka do all the work.

Zanka sat up, lounging against the headboard as he watched Jabber orient himself, awkwardly inching closer to the other, attempting to mask it as just getting comfortable. Sighing, he grabbed Jabber's shoulders, slowly lowering the Raider's head into his lap.

"So," Jabber turned his head so that he could look up at Zanka, "wanna hear 'bout that toxin I'm making?"

They sat there and talked for a little while, Jabber describing what he hoped his new experiment would be able to create, and how he couldn't wait to try it out on Zanka, while said Cleaner shared a few stupid stories about his fellow members of Team Akuta.

Even as Jabber detailed how he would slice up Zanka in their next fight, and as Zanka illustrated how he would bash Jabber's head in before he'd let that happen— it was peaceful, in a way. Relaxing, even.

That's just how they were, after all.

"Man, I'm getting excited just thinking about it." Jabber giggled, looking off into the distance as his violent fantasies presumably played themselves out in his mind. "You better beat my ass straight into the ground."

"Always." Zanka brushed a wick away from Jabber's face. "I'll give ya everthin' I've got. You better be ready for it."

Jabber continued to stare at him, remarkably pleased by his answer, until—

He swung his upper body up, moving his head out of Zanka's lap.

"I wanna give you this a bit early," was the short explanation he offered, crawling over to the nightstand and grabbing something that was lying on top of it, clasping it in his hands. "Open your hands up, Zan-zan."

Zanka obliged, equal parts curious and amused.

Jabber dropped the mysterious object— rather, objects— into his hands, and Zanka could already tell what they were before he got a chance to look.

"Earrings?"

And when he did get that chance—

Wow.

They were stunning.

Two bunches of light pink flowers, delicate petals outlined with gold, single pearls attached to by small chains at the bottoms of them.

"Are these real?" Zanka asked, running his fingers over the tiny petals, because they did look real, but that texture was—

"Nah, they're velvet." Jabber seemed to be enjoying examining his reaction. "Were real hard to clean up."

"They're beautiful, Abby." Zanka was unable to take his eyes off them. "I've never seen anything like them before."

"I keep 'em in one of the drawers. That's where all my favorites go." Jabber pointed at one of the blossoms. "They're supposed to be some flower called oleander."

Jabber brought Zanka's cupped hands up to his chin, letting his face be held along with the earrings.

"It's poisonous, y'know? Makes your heart beat all funny."

Zanka was speechless.

There was something about that smile, something about that voice, something about the two earrings held in his hands—

"I know you got your own earrings," Jabber pulled away, gesturing to his ear, "but they reminded me of you. Figured even if you couldn't wear 'em, you could just tuck 'em in a pocket or somewhere close—"

And suddenly, something clicked.

The earrings laid out on the nightstand.

The earrings that were apparently some of Jabber's favorites.

The earrings that were already laid out on the night stand, before Jabber had gotten any concrete confirmation that Zanka would show up, only having his word, only trusting—

Oh. That was it.

It wasn't just that he trusted Zanka to return the jewelry.

It was that Jabber was trusting Zanka to return.

Trusting that Zanka would keep coming back, even as layer after layer was peeled back.

Trusting that Zanka wouldn't abandon him while he was so vulnerable.

Now that he thought of it—

That day, when they'd made that bet, hadn't Jabber wanted to borrow Zanka's earrings?

Was it for the same reason?

Or, had Jabber been trying to trust himself to come back to Zanka, in spite of all the mixed up feelings that had been in his head?

Zanka got it now.

He got it.

The decorating, the borrowing, the trusting, just like that he understood all of it, and now—

Zanka didn't wait for Jabber to finish his sentence, gently laying the oleander earrings on the bed in front of him, then immediately bringing his hands up to take out his tassel earrings. He tucked the tassels into the fold of his palm as he grabbed those gorgeous little flowers again, carefully sliding each of the earrings into his piercings.

There was a difference in weight, a small, but extremely noticeably, incredibly important one.

It meant everything to Zanka right now.

Then, he looked at Jabber, who was staring at him quietly, who'd laid one of his favorite pairs of earrings out on his nightstand for Zanka, who'd melded so deeply with him—

The feeling of want, the need to grasp, to bite, to hold, to tear, to caress, to consume, to envelop—

It was overwhelming, like it was trying to break out of Zanka's body.

Without much more of a thought, Zanka surged forwards, pushing Jabber's body flat against the bed, bracing himself up against the older boy's shoulders. He leaned close to the Raider's ear, biting the stud, reaching with his free hand to remove the earring back. As he leaned back to drop the stud into his other hand, he caught a glimpse of Jabber's expression, of his growing excitement and anticipation, before he leaned back in to remove the other earring.

He placed the disassembled studs on the nightstand, far from the edge, before settling his weight directly on top of Jabber, straddling his hips.

"I ain't going nowhere." Zanka's voice was low and gravelly, coming from a part of himself that was too deep to ever reach with his own hands. "And I ain't lettin' you go nowhere either. Not 'till I kill ya with my own hands."

He took the tassel earrings in his hand, his earrings, leaning forward again to press them into Jabber's piercings, letting them stab into the Raider's skin just enough to hear that sound, before securing the both of them.

Zanka pulled back, watching the ecstasy gleam in Jabber's eyes. He placed his hands on the clasps of the Raider's jacket, waiting for permission.

Jabber raised his hands to his ears, feeling over the tassels, over Zanka's tassels.

"You said everything." Jabber's voice was breathy, engulfed with desire, reaching up towards Zanka's collar. "You said you'd give me everything, always, always—"

That was all Zanka had needed to crash their lips together, warmth and violence colliding, tongue and teeth—

Body and soul.

* * *

Zanka still felt fuzzy.

He barely registered his legs moving beneath him, one foot in front of the other.

It was bliss.

His brain was very much still stuck on the endlessly addicting drug that was Jabber, far more potent than any of Mankira's poisons could ever hope to be.

The skin around his neck felt raw, even beneath his undershirt and jacket, though it didn't bother him. Rather, it was comforting, the remnants of touches gone far too soon, at least in his opinion.

Zanka yawned, continuing to trudge along. He couldn't wait to collapse into bed. Between the mission and his time with Jabber, he was ready to drift off into the best sleep of his life.

Mentally, he was still in Jabber's room, flipping through memories like a deck of cards.

There was just such a feeling of wholeness, of completeness, when it came to him and Jabber. As if every part of him, everything that was rough, soft, strong and weak, was met where it stood and was balanced out.

Maybe it wasn't how he was supposed to feel about things like these. But he'd stopped caring about that a long time ago.

He thought back to the toxin that Jabber had been working around, that toxin they'd never gotten around to making today. He wondered if he'd be able to push through it this time, or better yet, if he wouldn't be injected with it at all.

He thought about the next time he'd see those eyes.

They really were pretty.

And just like that—

He was right outside the doors to Cleaners HQ.

Finally, he could go to sleep.

Zanka rubbed his eyes, shuffling his way through reception, murmuring out the best greeting he could manage to Semiu, though he didn't even check to see if she was there. (She probably was.)

He continued down the hall, until he could hear the sounds of voices from the common room. Honestly, he'd rather head straight to his room. But in his drowsy state, hearing the voices of his family, it was hard to deny himself the instinct to get closer, even if it was only to wave from the doorway.

Besides, Enjin had been worried, hadn't he?

It'd be good to show him that he was fine.

He pushed the door to the common room open, sticking his head in.

Rudo, Dear, and Guita were gathered around the low table on the floor, focused on something Zanka didn't have the energy to discern. Riyo was lounging on one of the couches behind them, legs laid out and crossed along the whole length of it. Enjin, Gris, Bro, and some other supporters were gathered around the table in the corner, playing cards like usual.

This, this was a different kind of peace.

Maybe he could keep both. The Cleaners would never have to know, after all. They'd want Zanka to be happy, right?

"Hey." Zanka offered a half-hearted wave, alerting the room to his presence.

He got a few greetings in return, which was enough for him to start pushing off the wall to head to his room, when—

"Woah," Enjin had fully turned to look at him, accidentally revealing his hand to the rest of the table, "where'd you get those earrings, kid?"

"Hm?" Zanka reached up to his ears, feeling over the velvet blossoms hanging from his ears.

Oh yeah.

In his defense, Zanka had been tired.

In his defense, his mind had been preoccupied.

In his defense, he'd already made a commitment not to lie about this specific subject.

So, even though he should've been careful, even though he should've been thinking, the words left his mouth, before he could stop them—

"They're Abby's."

With that, he'd been ready to leave, turning towards the hallway, still entirely unaware, until—

"What?"

Zanka froze.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no, no, no.

He'd fucked up.

All traces of tiredness left his body, replace by pure, unbridled panic and dread.

Just when everything had been going so well. Just when he'd come to that beautiful conclusion about Jabber's trust. Just when he'd been getting stronger, getting more comfortable, getting closer and closer and closer—

He just had to ruin it all. Because he couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

Couldn't think for one second, couldn't bother to use his brain for once in his life.

He was a fucking idiot. He was such a—

"Zanka."

Enjin's hand grabbed his shoulder.

Shit

His voice sounded dead serious.

When had he gotten that close?

Here it came. They were going to question him, going to realize what he was hiding, realize just how many lies he'd stacked up, going to figure out what a pathetic disgrace he was, going to send him back to the Hell Guard, to his—

Enjin whirled him around, and Zanka knew it was too late, that there was no going back—

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

…What?

What the fuck?

And then, in an instant, several chemical reactions occurred simultaneously in Zanka's brain, neurons firing to realize—

1. He hadn't said Jabber. He'd said Abby.

2. No one at Cleaners HQ but him knew that Abby was his nickname for Jabber.

3. Abby was usually a girl's name.

4. They thought he was talking about a girl named Abby.

5. Enjin thought he had a girlfriend named Abby.

Oh.

It was almost laughably stupid.

At least, it would've been, if Zanka hadn't been about to combust a few seconds ago.

He wanted to shake his head on instinct, because no, that wasn't right, and lying like that felt like going too far, except—

Wouldn't this be his best option?

If he were to deny it now, that'd only make him seem suspicious. He'd have to figure out another explanation for why he said that, and why he had the earrings on. With in the short time he had, and with his evidently very stupid and tired brain, that was bound to go terribly.

He couldn't lose this. He couldn't lose any of this, the Cleaners or Jabber, no matter what.

So, he let it happen.

"Uhm…" He didn't have to fake the embarrassed look on his face, staring awkwardly at the shocked expressions of the Cleaners around the room. "…must've…forgotten to…mention that?"

A second of silence.

Then—

The room exploded.

"No way!"

"Congrats, Zanka!"

"Really?"

"So that's what you've been up to. Nice job, Zan-zan!" Enjin threw a heavy arm around his shoulders, laughing. "Your very first girlfriend! I'm proud of you, kid!"

Proud.

Proud.

Zanka had all but short-circuited, still stuck on that word as the other Cleaners rushed up to him, bombarding him with questions.

"Hey, hey, let 'im breathe a bit." Enjin raised his hands, shooing the crowd back a bit. "Now, I think this calls for some celebration. Let's get a party going!"

Maybe—

Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Maybe he should've gone with this story from the beginning.

Proud.

Even if it was a lie, even if he knew just what Enjin would say if he knew the truth—

Zanka had always been a sucker for praise.

And maybe, that'd be his downfall.

But for now, he just wanted to cling to that word a bit longer.

* * *

Needless to say, Zanka hadn't gotten to sleep until much later that night.

And only after he'd had to deny answering at least over a hundred questions about his secret "girlfriend".

No, he didn't want to talk about her.

No, they couldn't meet her.

No, he wouldn't tell them what she looked like.

No, they weren't engaged.

No, he wasn't always going out to meet with her when he left, only sometimes— he was still training, just like he'd said, of course. (Never mind how much those two subjects actually overlapped.)

Despite their obvious curiosity, once it had become clear that Zanka wasn't up to sharing much at the moment, the other Cleaners had backed off, also thanks in part to Enjin telling them to stop bothering him about it.

The longer the night had gone on, the more Zanka had realized that no one would be forgetting about this any time soon.

He'd have to be real careful from here on out. At the very least, until this died down a bit and Zanka could say he "broke up" with her. That'd be the best plan, except—

"Gotta say, kid, I was real worried about you for a while." Enjin had said, once most of the others had started heading off to their own rooms. "Thought you might've gotten yourself into something bad. I mean, don't get me wrong, I know you really don't want to talk about her right now, but if this girl ever makes you uncomfortable, or hurts you, you come and tell me right away, alright? Your safety comes first. But as long as you are safe— I get it, and I want you to be happy. So I'm glad you found someone that makes you feel that way. And in my opinion, between you and those earrings— she's got real great taste."

Yeah.

Maybe Zanka would put up with this charade for a bit longer than he planned.

This way, he could have Enjin's approval.

And at least this way, he could wear those beautiful oleander earrings as much as he wanted.

And now he'd been able to receive that smile Enjin had given him when he'd left Cleaners HQ on his own today, just a few days later— it'd made him feel like he was doing something right.

Even if—

"I'm a little sad I didn't get to see you wearing them during our fight." Jabber sighed, letting the earrings hang from his fingers.

"Ya literally told me how hard they were to clean." Zanka flicked him in the head, still a bit sluggish from today's toxin. "Didn't want ya to bleed all over 'em."

"Well, I didn't do too much bleeding today, did I?" Jabber gave him a pointed look. "What had you so distracted today? What happened to 'everything, always'?"

He wasn't wrong. Zanka had been a bit distracted.

Given. Y'know.

The entirety of the last few days.

He briefly considered sharing the story with Jabber, about the great "revelation" the Cleaners had arrived at. The Raider was bound to get a kick out of it.

But on the other hand, if Jabber found out, he'd be absolutely insufferable about it.

Of course, he'd tease Zanka to no end, which, while annoying, would be tolerable. What Zanka really worried about was Jabber using that information to mess with the other Cleaners. They were members of opposing organizations after all, meaning their chances to meet and interact were common. Zanka knew Jabber would do it just to piss him off, but what if one day, he went too far, said a bit too much, and someone would start piecing it together—

Yeah, no.

Zanka would rather not.

"Didn't mean I was holdin' back, asshole." Zanka scowled, running a hand through the tassels still hanging from Jabber's ears. "…Just wasn't used to seein' ya with these, that's all."

And—

Well.

That wasn't a lie either.

"Wouldn't mind hanging onto 'em for a bit longer." Jabber grinned, holding up the oleander earrings again. "I mean, I picked these lil' pink flowers out specially for you, Mr. Bad Attitude."

"You ain't just stealing my shit. And I already told ya I don't wanna ruin those ones." Zanka gestured to the jewelry hanging on the other's fingers, pushing his shoulder lightly.

"Alright, alright. Fine, here ya go." Jabber snickered, momentarily placing the earrings on his fingertips on the dresser with the rest of his hoard, before removing Zanka's from his piercings and passing them over.

Zanka took them, returning them to their rightful places framing his face.

"You'll hafta let me exchange these again sometime." Jabber had grabbed the oleander earrings again, squinting while holding them near Zanka's face, presumably giving himself the illusion that the Cleaner was still wearing them. "They look good on you. What'd you say to me last time? Oh yeah— 'they fit ya real well'."

"Honestly," Zanka's pushed Jabber's hand away, squinting as he reversed the illusion, "I think they'd fit you better. They match ya."

"Why's that?" Jabber brought the earrings closer to examine them, frowning a bit.

"Ya told me they're supposed to be poisonous flowers, for starters. And they match yer eyes." Zanka glanced away, already feeling the heat on his face. "I know yer always in purple for the Raiders, but I think pink…suits ya more. I mean, that's Mankira's color too."

"…Musta thought about that a whole lot, huh?" Jabber ran a finger over the velvet petals, smile deepening. "Maybe I'll wear 'em once in a while. If you 'n that Lovely Lady of yours ask me nice enough."

And despite the burdens of both the toxin and his worries about the Cleaners weighing on Zanka, he felt ready to get right to "asking", to activate Lovely Assistaff and fight with Jabber for the rest of the evening.

Maybe even for the rest of his life.

* * *

"…Another one? Really?"

"What?" Zanka raised an eyebrow at Rudo, who'd just arrived for their morning training session.

He seemed to be more focused on staring a hole through Zanka right now, though. Or rather, his wrist.

His wrist, which was currently encircled by another one of Jabber's bracelets, a simple silver one made to look like a laurel. Which had apparently done something to personally offend Rudo.

"Got a problem with it?" Zanka glared back, shifting the hand holding the bracelet halfway behind him.

Ever since the Cleaners had found out about his "girlfriend", he hadn't bothered hiding Jabber's jewelry. Even though he probably still should've.

The more times people saw, the more they'd be reminded of the whole ordeal, and the more questions they'd have. Which ultimately led to more chances for Zanka to fuck up.

But in spite of that, he couldn't bear to hide them. Not when he'd figured out the true meaning behind them. Not when they were so beautiful. Not when it made whatever he and Jabber had feel more solid, more real, not just some impossible dream that Zanka had been making up all this time.

A physical reminder of that closeness.

A small spike of anxiety went off in his head. Had the kid been able to draw together a clue somehow?

Surely not. It was Rudo.

"It's a new one every time." Rudo's frown deepened, still focused on the bracelet.

But maybe, despite the odds—

"Ya know, it ain't any of yer business, punk." Zanka pressed the bracelet closer into the side of his thigh, in some kind of unconscious attempt to protect it.

"I'm just saying, your girlfriend seems to have a whole lot of fancy shit to throw at you." Rudo finally turned away, muttering under his breath. "And a bunch of cash to blow on buying all of it too."

Ah.

Of course he'd be worried about that.

Zanka let his hand come back to his side, shoulders relaxing.

Given his relationship with what other people thought of as trash. Given how he felt about waste. Given his life in the Sphere.

"It ain't like that." Zanka didn't withhold the reassurance, not when he knew how much it meant. "They're recycled."

Immediately, Rudo's head perked up.

"Really?"

"Yep, h— she finds the ones people throw away," Zanka recovered from the slip-up, grateful Rudo's attention was too focused on the topic of re-use to notice, "and restores 'em."

Rudo's eyes were wide as saucers.

"She does?"

"Uh-huh. Just like you do."

"Oh." Rudo looked off, seeming to recollect himself, caught off guard now that the target of his irritation had been pulled out from beneath his feet. "That's cool."

Zanka hummed in agreement, glancing down at the bracelet.

"But…how?" Rudo suddenly snatched Zanka's wrist, pulling it up to his face to examine the bracelet. "They always look brand new! How does she do that? There's like, no tarnish on this at all!"

"Get yer grubby hands off me!" Zanka shook him off.

"What materials does she use? Is there a technique to it?" Rudo was undeterred, firing off one question after another. "Did she soak it in something, or—"

"Look, I don't know." Zanka put his hands in an attempt to get the younger boy to calm down. "I ain't been around when she's working on 'em."

"Oh." Rudo seemed to deflate a bit, shoulders subtly sagging.

Zanka tried to ignore it.

For all of one second.

"If it makes ya stop pouting," Zanka sighed, "I'll ask her about it next time I see her."

Excitement flashed in Rudo's eyes, quickly replaced with—

"I'm not pouting! You don't have to do anything for me, you jerk!" Rudo pointed an accusatory finger at him, face red with embarrassment.

"How the hell does that make me a jerk?" Zanka raised an eyebrow.

"Shut up!" Rudo crossed his arms, turning away.

He always managed to be a hassle, didn't he?

Either way, Zanka made the mental note to ask Jabber about his restoration process at some point. It probably involved a shit-ton of random chemicals that—

"…Sorry."

Zanka's head snapped to look at his student again.

"Huh?"

"For bad-mouthing your girlfriend. I just got angry because I thought…" Rudo shook his head. "Just— I guess she's not that bad after all."

Zanka paused.

That was actually…kind of sweet.

Of course, the moment passed as Zanka now struggled to fight down laughter at the fact that Rudo was apologizing to Jabber Wonger right now. The same guy that'd tried to kidnap him when they'd first met.

If only he knew.

Suddenly, it wasn't that hard to fight down that laugh.

Yeah. If only.

Wave it away. Get it out of your head. You don't even know what you mean by that.

Everything was fine. They didn't know, and that was fine.

"Abby" was just some normal girl to them. Faceless and nearly nameless. If that was the way it was gonna be, why not have some fun with it instead of moping around?

"You can start apologizing by gettin' to trainin' instead of just standin' around." Zanka lowered himself into a fighting stance, activating Lovely Assistaff, grinning. "C'mon, I got some payback to get to. Can't let ya go 'round callin' Abby a snob."

Damn brat. Thinking he can just slander anyone he wants.

But if Zanka actually did ask Jabber how he cleaned up his jewelry the next time he saw him, that was no one's business.

And if he asked for a vial of the home-made concoction Jabber was using for "himself", that was also no one's business.

And if he snuck that vial into Rudo's room with a long, heavily-underlined note containing an extensive list of warnings, that was— you guessed it: no one's business.

* * *

It'd been a stupid mistake.

A stupid mistake Zanka wanted to beat himself over the head for.

It wasn't that Zanka had been distracted. It wasn't that the hit had been unavoidable. Hell, for once it hadn't been that Zanka wasn't strong enough.

No, instead he'd made a stupid, dumb, idiotic mistake.

Stepped one way when he knew he should've stepped the opposite. He could see the moment in his mind still— see himself making the same mistake, over and over and over again.

And now he was on bed rest.

Trash beasts were supposed to be easy. The Cleaners quite literally fought them on the regular. You'd think Zanka would've gotten the hang of it by now.

But no. Here he was, the only one injured after a completely normal, perfectly average mission.

Of course, the trash beast couldn't have given him the dignity of an actually serious injury, something being worth stuck in bed over.

Nope. Instead, he'd just broken his leg.

(Perhaps it was worth noting that the word "just" being used was a product of his own annoyance. It'd hurt like bitch, after all.)

Well, it was only slightly broken now, thanks to Eishia, who advised him to let it heal naturally from here.

Which meant Zanka was stuck on crutches for a bit.

Okay, maybe he wasn't exactly on strict bed rest. It was more like heavily-advised-instead-of-trying-to-train bed rest.

At the very least, he'd been moved back to his own room. Here he could sulk in peace. He'd rather be caught dead than do so in front of the other Cleaners.

It was annoying.

It'd been a dumb move. He should've known better.

And of course, it'd happened just when he'd thought he was getting better. Just when he'd been getting injured less. Just when he'd been winning more fights against Jabber.

Maybe he was wrong.

Maybe it was because he wasn't strong enough.

Or no, not specifically strength either.

He wasn't good enough.

A good fighter would've never made a dumb mistake like that. Enjin wouldn't have. Jabber wouldn't have. Riyo wouldn't have. Even Rudo, the newest of them all, natural talent that he was, wouldn't have.

Zanka knew he should be sleeping. It was dark out. He'd already cleaned and cared for Lovely Assistaff. He'd been told plenty of times not to stay up and overthink.

But at the same time, it wasn't like he could just leave it. He had to confront this.

Had to confront his weakness. Just like every other time.

It was frustrating. So incredibly frustrating.

To constantly be reminded of how little he'd actually improved.

Maybe he just wasn't meant to. He'd been trying for a good, long while after all.

It got tiring, sometimes.

Zanka let his head fall back against the wall, not bothering to cushion it, letting the pain radiate across the back of his skull.

Even if he'd been advised against it, he should really do something tomorrow. Whatever he could manage, given his limited mobility, to try and get stronger. Just using his arms, practicing maneuvering Assistaff in his hands, there had to be plenty of things he could do without—

His train of thought was derailed as an evenly-paced trio of loud taps sounded throughout the room.

Slowly, Zanka turned his head towards the window.

A face, pressed up against the glass, ten pointed claws lining the top of the window frame, a giant, eerie grin, two glowing eyes, wide open and staring—

"You gotta stop doing that," Zanka scolded, after having hobbled over to and opened the window.

"Hell no." Jabber snickered, sliding into the room, deactivating Mankira. "This shit's way more fun."

Zanka sighed, making a point to not lean against the wall, even as his injured leg started to ache. (Or rather, because it started to ache.)

"I already told ya I can't fight for a little bit." Zanka didn't pull the window shut quite yet, not when he was expecting it to be exited through so soon. "And I can't really do a lot else right now. Don't know what ya want in the middle of the night, but you'll probably have to come back another day."

"Relax, Mr. Bad Attitude. You don't even know why I came by yet." Jabber pulled the window shut instead, once he'd noticed Zanka was making no move to do so, clicking the latch shut. "Where'd you get hurt anyways? You didn't specify when you talked to me earlier."

Jabber gestured to his choker, eyes scanning Zanka's figure.

"Leg." Zanka avoided his gaze, feeling self-conscious in a way that wasn't warm or soft at all. "It was dumb. I got it patched up, so it'll be fine soon."

"The hell're you standing up for then, man?" Jabber grabbed Zanka by the shoulders, steering him over to the bed. "I'm supposed to be the pain-lover, you're getting the roles all mixed up."

Zanka winced as his knee hit the edge of the mattress, already dealing with the pain from every step Jabber had forced him to take, legs folding immediately as his back fell onto the bed.

"…Oops." Jabber stood there awkwardly, hands drawn close to his body.

"'M fine." Zanka pushed himself back into his previous position on the bed, this time crossing his legs, ignoring the discomfort, instead of laying them out straight.

Jabber joined him, sitting opposite from him.

"So?" Zanka folded his hands in his lap, shoulders slumped. "What do ya want? I already told ya I ain't really useful for much right now, if ya would've bothered to listen."

Jabber stared at him, his expression oddly serious.

Did Zanka's words finally catch up to him?

Maybe the Raider just hadn't been paying attention when he'd first told him about his condition. Or Zanka's wince of pain had just revealed how bad his state really was.

Well, at least Zanka had been right to leave the window open, even if there was something heavy on his chest right now, something that—

"You got nice hands, Zan-zan."

"…Huh?"

What was he on about now?

"I mean it. They're good." Jabber grabbed Zanka's hands from his lap, drawing them into his own. "You've got strong hands."

Zanka sat in stunned silence, face reddening.

"Not a lot of people talk about having strong hands. Mostly focus on the stuff you can see. But it's reeeeeal important." Jabber turned his hands over, prodding at Zanka's palms. "And yours are pretty damn strong. They gotta be, with how quick you whip around Ms. Lovely over there. Don't even need anything else but your fingers sometimes too. 'S real amazing."

Oh. Oh, oh, oh.

There was a tingling sensation in his chest now, like a choir of small bells being rung one at a time, quickly beginning to overlap.

"They do a whole lot for me too." He cupped both of Zanka's hands in his, like he was presenting a handful of ichor, lightly caressing the fingers that spilled over the sides. "Punch me, choke me, hold me all gentle-like— always spoiling me. 'M real lucky."

The praise was almost overwhelming. Almost, but he sat their drinking it in like a traveler who hadn't seen water in days. Zanka's face was fully flushed now; it felt like the heat of a furnace was radiating from his cheeks.

This was beyond praise, this, this was worship.

"Sorry," Jabber had finally looked up, a fond look on his face, "got a little carried away. Couldn't help myself."

He pressed his lips to Zanka's fingers, so reminiscent to that gesture, yet different— of course, they both had their own ways after all—

"You deserve it."

That was the final nail in the coffin.

Zanka felt like he'd lost his ability to speak for the rest of his life, permanently dazed by the warm feeling that was washing over him.

"Aight, I'll answer your question now." Jabber let go of Zanka's hands, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a small, drawstring, cloth bag. "Gimme your left one again."

Zanka complied, not feeling any need to argue after that.

"Shoulda brought some of my other stuff for you," Jabber mused, looking over Zanka's left hand. "Then I could take better care of these. 'Course I always gotta watch my own real well, 'cause that's where I carry 'Kira. Don't wanna mess up my hands and not get to use her no more, you feel me?"

To be fair, he probably did need it; Zanka's hands kind of were a mess, dry and covered in callouses.

"That ain't the point. Getting off track again." With one hand, Jabber grabbed the bag he'd pulled out, tugging it open and dumping the contents on the bed next to him.

"…Rings?" Zanka squinted at the small objects in the dark, trying to make them out.

There were a lot of them, probably more than ten, forming a decently-sized pile on top of the blankets. They formed quite the variety, ranging from thin, simple bands to rings that held large, glittering gems.

"Yep." Jabber scanned over the pile, sorting through it and selecting at least half of the rings. "Figured it was my chance."

He began sliding the rings onto Zanka's fingers, in a manner far too purposeful to not have been practiced. Some rested at the bases of Zanka's fingers, where others fit halfway. Some fingers got only one, while others got two—

"Wait a minute, are ya puttin' all of those on one hand?" Zanka gestured to the now dwindling pile in Jabber's palm, bewildered. "Don't ya think that's a bit…excessive?"

"Can you blame me?" Jabber grinned, continuing his work without hesitation. "I have so many of 'em just lying around, and of course I ain't ever gonna wear them; my hands are reserved. This is my first chance to show 'em off."

"I ain't gonna be able to do anything with all these on," Zanka reasoned, experimentally twitching his already decorated fingers to feel the added weight of the rings.

"That's the point, Zan-zan."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?" Zanka glared at him, feeling like he'd been thrown for a loop for the second, if not the third, time that night.

"I mean that you need to not do anything for a bit." Jabber ran a hand over his now-finished work, tracing the outlines of the rings. "I ain't given you any of these to borrow yet 'cause I knew you couldn't wear 'em while handling Lovely. You'd never risk scratching her up like that. But both of you should be taking it easy right now."

And for the hundredth, if not the millionth time since he'd met Jabber, Zanka was speechless.

"You can't stand staying still. You always gotta try and get better. 'S one of the things that makes you so great." Jabber continued on, exchanging Zanka's left hand for his right one, grabbing the remaining rings from the pile on the bed. "But you also overdo it. Hell, there are times when I know for sure you could've won a fight if you weren't so damn tired from wearing yourself down before hand. Always going at it with training, nonstop— it ain't gonna make you tougher. You're just gonna overwork yourself."

Zanka wanted to argue. Wanted to tell Jabber that he didn't know what he was talking about, wanted to say something mean, something that'd hurt—

But deep down, he knew Jabber was right.

The thing that Jabber didn't understand, however, was that Zanka had no other choice. If he ever wanted to improve, if he ever wanted to be worth something, he had to—

"I know you ain't gonna listen just 'cause I said to. You're stubborn like that. I call ya Mr. Bad Attitude for a reason." Jabber slid the final ring onto Zanka's thumb. "So if you ain't gonna let your hands relax, Imma keep 'em occupied for you. You got plenty of time to train later."

Damn it.

When had Jabber gotten so good at all of this?

It was a long time before Zanka needed to open his window again that night.

* * *

The next morning, Zanka determined that his only regret about the previous night was that he hadn't been able to get a clear look at the rings.

Because looking at them in broad daylight, sitting on a bench in the courtyard, they were gorgeous.

Jabber had obviously put a lot of care into his selection. They were all silver, gems ranging from deep blue to teal, in a water-like mosaic. Zanka had made sure to memorize the position of each ring before he'd taken them off for the night, resorting to setting them up in a mock-map of his hands on his nightstand. He knew that Jabber's arrangement of the rings had to have been very intentional as well

Unsurprisingly, he'd been right about that as well. The way Jabber had placed the rings on his fingers, they didn't scratch at or clang obnoxiously against each other. In fact, it was quite comfortable, outside of all the weight that was now resting on top of his fingers.

In spite of the sheer amount of rings, Jabber's arrangement managed to not look gaudy either. It was almost a miracle. Except, Zanka had long since learned to trust—

"Holy shit." Enjin, seemingly arriving from nowhere, thanks to Zanka's lack of attention, gawked at the younger boy's hands. "That's a lot. Those all from Abby?"

"Yeah." Zanka smiled to himself as he continued to look at the rings, a certain feeling scarily close to pride welling up in his chest at getting to say that. "They're 'get-well-soon' gifts."

"Damn. Pretty extravagant way to say it, huh?" Enjin sat on the bench next to him, a frown crossing his face. "Wait a minute, when'd she get the time to get those to you? You better not've been out anywhere on that leg."

"Oh. Uhm." Zanka shifted awkwardly. "She…came by earlier this mornin'. Real quick. Didn't come inside or nothin'."

"Wait, you mean she was here?!" Enjin gaped at him.

"Just for a little bit!" Zanka put his hands up in defense, panic growing with every second that passed after the lie had left his mouth.

Enjin sighed, leaning his head back.

"Look, kid. I'm not gonna try and talk around it. Just gonna be straightforward." Enjin crossed his arms, letting his head fall forwards again. "I haven't said anything yet because I'm trying to respect your privacy, and I don't really know how to handle this sort of thing, and I don't want to mess it up. But if you and Abby are gonna keep being a thing, I want to meet her. At some point."

Oh no.

"I understand. You've got someone like that for the first time, and it feels like those worlds should stay separate. And I know I'm not your dad." Enjin kept staring straight ahead, sparing Zanka the pressure of eye contact. "But I care about you, and I want to look out for you. Wanted to look out for you since me 'n Riyo first found you. And I don't know how much longer I can go without losing my mind over not knowing if your girlfriend's some kind of secret psychopath or not."

Well, here they were. The consequences of Zanka's actions.

He shouldn't have let it go on this long. Should've cut off that lie a long time ago.

Gone back to tucking Jabber's necklaces beneath his jacket. Stopped expecting Enjin to smile and say "Going to see Abby again?" every time Zanka was on the way to the front door.

And yet—

"I know. Didn't mean to make ya worried." Zanka kept his eyes trained on the dirt beneath him. "It's…hard. Findin' time to spend together. I'm always busy with Cleaner stuff, and she's always…got her own things to work on, so when we actually get time, I kinda just want to spend it with…her."

At least there was a little truth in that.

"Ain't exactly an easy schedule, is it? I get that." Enjin let out a long breath. "I know we don't got a lot of free time, and I know you don't want to waste it. I'm not asking for too much of it. Just once or twice— bring her by. Or take me to meet her. I want to be introduced to her properly, okay?"

Zanka should really cut this off. Before it got any worse.

"I will. Someday."

Classic, greedy, stupid, selfish Zanka.

"I'll be waiting for it." Enjin gave him a solid pat on the shoulder before leaning to look at Zanka's hands. "Don't think I've seen you wear rings like that before."

Zanka nodded absentmindedly.

"I don't. Wear 'em, I mean. They get in the way of trainin'."

Enjin was silent for a moment, a moment long enough that it gave Zanka time to realize the implications of that statement, enough time time to realize just how much he'd revealed.

"…She knows you pretty well, doesn't she?" Enjin mused, pausing again to think. "Zanka, I'm gonna be honest with you. It's not like it's a secret, but I'm not good with relationships. Not the long-term ones. Even now it's…it's been a process. Working on it. What I'm saying is that I'm not exactly the best person to give you advice on this. But like I said, I wanna look out for you."

Zanka leaned into Enjin's shoulder, as undeserving as he was.

"I'm not gonna say anything for sure until I actually meet her," Enjin gave him a pointed look, "but if all this is anything to go off of…she cares about you, Zanka. Seems like she cares about you a whole damn lot. The more I watch you navigate this whole thing, the more it reminds me of my relationships when I was younger. I keep picturing me 'n my old girlfriends, and I keep seeing all the mistakes I made that pushed 'em away. I don't want you to make those mistakes too."

It all felt genuine. Laid bare.

"I know it's easy to get caught up in your own shit, I know it's easier to just want to deal with stuff on your own, I know it's easier to withdrawal when you don't know how to help someone, but if you keep doing stuff like that, in a little while you're gonna wind up with nothing left. Not that I think those are specific things you're gonna struggle with, but—" Enjin sighed, running a hand down his face. "Ugh. This all came out as a big mess. What I'm trying to say is— make sure you talk to her. Make sure she talks to you. Don't bottle stuff up. Talk it out. Don't lose all this over something stupid."

Well, Zanka had already kinda learned that lesson the hard way.

It was strange, hearing Enjin talk about these kinds of relationships when he and Jabber were—

Were—

Huh. He didn't actually have a word for it.

"I know I'm being a big hypocrite right now. Do as I say, not as I do, yada yada. I also don't know if this is even much help to you, but," Enjin placed a reassuring hand on Zanka's forearm, lightly squeezing it, "I want to at least try and do something for you. Relationships are hard. And you seem…happier. I want that to last. So, even though I still want to meet her, and until then I'm keeping my suspicions up, I do mean it when I say I'm proud of you, Zanka."

The feeling never got old. Never lost any of its warmth, any of its impact, but—

You wouldn't be saying any of that if you knew.

If you knew that I was taking your trust and throwing it into the fire.

If you knew that "Abby" isn't anything like you think.

If you knew that I'm not what you think I am.

Zanka didn't say any of it.

Instead, he looked at his mentor, the man that had saved him back in that well, the man who gave him this life here with the Cleaners, the man that had made sure he'd kept living at all instead of rotting in that—

"Thanks, Enjin." Zanka smiled, leaning his arm into the touch.

Because, even after all this time, Zanka Nijiku was still an arrogant little shit who couldn't manage to jump off a sinking ship even as he saw it begin to tip.

Just a bit longer, he told himself.

Let me pretend I've earned those words for just a bit longer.

* * *

"Hey, Jabber?"

They were both in Jabber's room again, lying flat on the bed next to each other, just having finished patching up the aftermath of another fight. One that Zanka had (thankfully) won, their first since the Cleaner's leg injury.

What could he say? He'd been a little…excited.

"What's up?" Jabber rolled his head over to look at the other, taking a break from staring at the ceiling and blanking out.

"What are we?" Zanka remained staring upwards, hands folded over his chest.

He hadn't been able to stop thinking about it since his talk with Enjin.

They'd never defined it. Which hadn't really bothered him before, but Zanka was already starting to spiral for a number of other reasons, and now that had him questioning a whole bunch of things he'd been sure of before.

After all, maybe he just assumed that his relationship with Jabber was something special. Maybe he'd take that assumption too far, and get it thrown in his face, and—

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm still kinda bricked right now."

"I'm being serious!" Zanka snapped up and grabbed a pillow, smothering Jabber's face with it.

"This ain't helping that problem, just so you—"

Zanka promptly removed the pillow, glaring at Jabber.

"…I am being serious." He laid back down again, hugging the pillow to his chest, voice quieter. "I mean us. What are we?"

"Like relationship-wise?"

"Yeah."

"Oh." Jabber shrugged. "I dunno."

"Thanks, asshole." Zanka rolled his eyes, gripping the pillow a bit tighter.

"Hey, it's not like you know either." Jabber nudged him with an elbow. "You're asking 'bout labels, right? Hm. Like 'boyfriends'? That fits some of the stuff we do."

Zanka stayed silent, not daring to confirm or deny, not daring to share a word of his own opinion until he was certain it wouldn't be rejected.

"But I don't think it fits. Feels a bit childish."

Oh. Seems he'd been right after—

"Too shallow. This," Jabber gestured to the two of them laying on the bed, "feels like more than that. Something deeper. Get what I'm saying?"

Oh.

Slowly, Zanka nodded.

"So, what does that leave? 'Friends'? Definitely not." Jabber snickered, glancing over at him.

"Hell nah. Not in a million years." Zanka huffed out a laugh of his own.

"And 'enemies' doesn't say nearly enough either." Jabber thought for a moment, thrumming his fingers along his chest. "Can't really think of a word that fits. Don't think there is one."

Zanka hummed in agreement. That was along the lines of what he'd been thinking too.

"Then how about just this?" Jabber turned on his side to fully face Zanka. "You're for me, I'm for you. No one else. Not like this."

"No one else," Zanka repeated, almost whispering, copying the motion. "Just us."

Zanka liked that answer. Liked it a whole lot.

* * *

While the conclusion he and Jabber had reached had certainly been helpful to Zanka personally, it did nothing to douse the blazing fire that was the situation with the Cleaners.

More specifically, the guilt that he felt accompanying each lie. Even more specifically, each lie to Enjin.

Then came those thoughts.

They had started simple enough. The obvious stuff.

Enjin wouldn't be proud if he knew I was lying.

Enjin wouldn't be proud if he knew Abby was a Raider.

Then, they'd started to evolve into more personal, targeted thoughts, self-loathing creeping in.

Enjin wouldn't be proud if he knew Abby was a masochist.

Enjin wouldn't be proud if he knew I enjoyed that Abby was a masochist.

Enjin wouldn't be proud if he knew what I was.

From there, they'd only gotten more and more twisted, often pushing past the veil of reason and reality, into things Zanka would normally know weren't true, but as it was—

"Hey, Zanka!" Riyo's voice broke him out of his thoughts. "Semiu said there's a package here for you."

"…For me?" Zanka frowned, realizing the bowl he'd been mindlessly scraping with his spoon for the past however many minutes was indeed empty.

"Yep. Doesn't say who it's from, but I figured you might have an idea." Riyo hooked her arms under Zanka's, pulling him up. "Come on, let's find out what it is!"

Zanka barely had time to grab Assistaff before Riyo was dragging him out of the mess hall. Although, he didn't protest, mind far more focused on the supposed package waiting for him.

Who would send him something?

Just about everyone in his life he was close with was equally close to him in a physical sense, so it's not like they'd need to send him a package when they could just hand it to him instead.

Unless it was from someone he didn't see. Unless it was from a specific set of people he'd do everything to avoid, who he'd thought wanted nothing to do with him—

"There he is." Semiu looked up from her magazine as the two of them came into view. "Found this by the door in the morning. Couldn't really make out your admirer on camera. Already checked it— it ain't dangerous. So, have a look."

A small, cardboard box rested on the counter, no other identifying factors except the singular name scrawled on the side, large, black lettering— and yeah, Zanka knew that handwriting.

"Anything look familiar?" Semiu raised an eyebrow, seemingly amused.

"It's from Abby." Zanka snatched the package, face reddening.

"That so?" Semiu adjusted her glasses. "Nice to know."

Zanka needed to get out of here. Get out of here quick.

If Semiu used her vital instrument on him right now, Zanka was so fucked.

"Thanks." Zanka began stepping backwards, inching closer to the door. "I'm gonna. Uhm. Take this up to my room."

"No problem." Semiu gave him a small smile, looking back down to the magazine in front of her. "Good luck."

With that, Zanka was speed-walking down the hallway.

"Wow, someone's excited." Riyo suddenly decided to chime in, keeping pace with him.

"Shit!" Zanka fumbled, almost dropping the box. "Where the fuck did you come from?"

"Relax, 'm just a bit curious." Riyo put herself eye-level with the box, tilting her head. "So, what's in the box?"

That was a bit of a difficult question to answer.

Knowing Jabber, it could be absolutely anything.

Honestly, even though Semiu cleared it, Zanka was half expecting it to be a bomb.

The list went on.

Some kind of poison?

A bleeding human heart?

A dead bird?

What could've warranted the occasion and ceremony of a mailed package?

"I'm not sure." Zanka continued walking, keeping a mental image of how close he was to his room. "I mean, it's not like she usually sends me stuff."

"Let's open it then." Riyo leaned on his shoulder, pushing him along.

Oh, she wasn't going to let this go, was she?

"Didn't know this was a group activity."

"It is now. I'm interested."

The door to his room was in sight now. If Riyo got inside, she wouldn't leave until she got what she wanted. He was running out of time.

"Look. 'S nothin' against you," Zanka turned around to face her, putting his back against his door, "just…this is kinda…private, y'know?"

Riyo gave the box a suspicious look.

"What, did she mail you nudes or something?"

Again, knowing Jabber, it wasn't entirely out of the question.

"No!" Zanka's face flamed. "That's not what I meant! I…I just mean…"

He trailed off, brain finally running out of fuel for excuses.

"…I know I'm prying." Riyo's smile settled into something more serious. "But you've been real hush-hush about this. And I can tell she's important to you. This is such an important part of your life, and that's why I…don't want to miss out on it. It feels like there's so much that's happening for you right now, and we're all stuck on the outside of it, not able to see a thing."

He hadn't realized how much his lie had affected his fellow team members until his talk with Enjin. The beginnings of the idea had been sparked with the incident about the jewelry with Rudo, but it wasn't until that conversation on the bench that he'd truly grasped the depth of what he'd done.

Of the expectations he'd set up.

Of how much crueler it was to tell someone that there was something you were keeping from them, rather than just keep that secret a secret.

He knew he'd be feeling the exact same way if Riyo had told him she had a partner, then refused to tell him anything else for weeks.

"I know its selfish." Riyo spoke with an earnestness that she rarely gave. "But I want to know about the things that make you happy. I don't wanna be left behind."

Damn it.

That was a killing blow right there.

Okay. He had to think about this logically.

Yes, he didn't know what was in the box. But Semiu had said she'd checked it over, which, knowing her methods, meant she probably knew exactly what was inside. And if she'd just let him take it and go off to wherever he wanted— no expulsion, no emergency meeting with the boss— that meant it couldn't be something incriminating.

Also, Jabber had delivered it to the front door, not Zanka's window. Jabber wasn't stupid— far from it. He would never leave something revealing just out in broad daylight, knowing it could and probably would pass through a few different sets of hands before it reached Zanka's.

Which meant it was probably, technically, maybe okay to show Riyo what was inside the box, even if he didn't know what it was himself.

"…Alright." Zanka reached for the handle behind him, pushing the door open. "Come in."

"Thanks, Zan-zan!" All Riyo's excitement was back, like a switch had been flipped.

She practically dashed into the room, plopping herself on Zanka's bed and gesturing for him to follow her. Zanka pulled the door shut, double checking to make sure it actually was, before joining her.

"Alright, open it up." Riyo peered at the box as Zanka set it down on the bed between them. "I've been waiting way too long."

"It ain't even for you." Zanka gave her an eye roll. "Be patient."

He hooked his fingernails under the tape, peeling it off slowly and discarding it off to the side.

Moment of truth.

Please don't be a bomb.

Or nudes.

Zanka grabbed the box's folds, flipping them out of the way like tearing off a band-aid.

And as for the contents—

"Oh." The sound was drawn from Zanka involuntarily, an instinctual, awed reaction.

Inside the box was a branch of oleander.

Zanka gently extended a hand to brush it against the flowers' petals.

Real oleander.

He was certain that's what it was. The small pink flowers looked exactly like the ones that had been portrayed on those earrings.

"Woah." Riyo's eyes were wide. "…Wasn't expecting that."

Acting as if he was handling porcelain, Zanka lifted the branch out of the box, admiring it.

"How the hell did he get this?" Zanka turned the branch around in his hands, admiring each angle.

While still on the smaller side, for what it was it was decently-sized. Which meant a lot for something like this.

For flowers, here on the ground.

Something so incredibly rare.

Zanka's eyes wandered back over to the box, noticing the two other objects that had been left inside, a small plastic bottle and a note. Carefully, he exchanged the branch for the two items.

Making sure to turn away from Riyo, who seemed to have resorted to just observing, judging by how quiet she'd gotten, he unfolded the note, placing a hand on the back of it to prevent any light from filtering through.

And then, he began reading the familiar handwriting in front of him.

Look what I found. Couldn't believe it when I saw it, I knew I had to give some of it to you. Didn't want it to wilt before you saw it, so I sent it as soon as I could. Hope you like it.

Zanka couldn't help but smile to himself.

Also, gave you some stuff to put on your hands in case you touch it. It's poisonous, y'know.

Wait a minute.

Zanka scrambled to grab the plastic bottle, uncapping it to rub the cream inside on his hands.

That little shit. Putting the note at the bottom, he'd meant for this to happen. And it wasn't like he'd told Zanka that oleander was poisonous to the touch either.

Once he'd finished coating his hands, he suddenly remembered Riyo's presence in the room, and her reasons for being there.

"…These are the same kinds of flowers that those earrings were supposed to look like." Zanka pulled the box close to him, wanting the proximity even if he knew not to touch it anymore. "The ones I wore back when y'all first found out about her, remember? Abby knows a bit about plants, that's how she knew about that. I don't know how she found this though. It's…nice. Sentimental too. She can be real sweet sometimes. "

If he couldn't tell Riyo the whole truth, then at the very least, he could be honest about that.

At the very, very least—

"Don't you mean 'he'?"

What.

"Huh?" Zanka's head jolted over to look at her.

How did she—

"Earlier." Riyo's expression was serious again. "You said 'how the hell did he get this', not 'she'."

"…Did I?" Zanka tried to backtrack, ignoring his growing anxiety. "Musta misspoke."

"No, you didn't." Riyo shook her head, definitively. "That was you talking from the heart. I could tell. That was the truth, not all the other stuff you've been spouting. 'Abby's' a boy, isn't he?"

Shit. He'd done it again.

He really should've learned his lesson by now.

Riyo wasn't going to back down. Not now. Zanka knew that.

He was fucked.

Slowly, shamefully, Zanka nodded.

He'd told himself that he'd be more careful, he'd known exactly what was at stake—

"I knew it!" Suddenly, miraculously, Riyo was laughing. "Had to do a double take when you came in here saying you had a 'girlfriend'. I knew you couldn't be straight, Zan-zan."

"…Really?" Zanka's jaw hung open in mild shock. "That's— that's what you—"

"No, that's not the only part I care about." Riyo sobered up, looking Zanka directly in the eyes. "Why didn't you tell us?"

Oh boy.

This was a hot mess. A mess far hotter than Zanka had ever prepared for when he'd uttered that first lie.

Didn't matter now. He needed to go with it. Needed to improvise.

"I panicked." Zanka shrugged awkwardly. "I didn't…didn't exactly plan on telling y'all about her— about him right then and there, so when Enjin said 'girlfriend', I kinda just went with it."

"'Kay, but that still doesn't explain why you didn't say anything later. You've been sticking to the 'girlfriend' story the whole time." Riyo continued on, without pause. "I mean, it must've been weird hearing people always calling him 'her' and stuff, not to mention you having to do it yourself. Why not just tell us you panicked?"

She did have a point. At any time, Zanka could've explained the exact, half-fake scenario he'd just described. It would've made things easier. Would've made it harder to mess up and get caught in a lie, like he'd just been.

Would've lifted a bit of the guilt on his chest, even if it was only by a hair.

But—

Then came those thoughts.

They had started simple enough. The obvious stuff.

Then, they'd started to evolve into more personal, targeted thoughts, self-loathing creeping in.

From there, they'd only gotten more and more twisted, often pushing past the veil of reason and reality, into things Zanka would normally know weren't true, but as it was—

Enjin wouldn't be proud if he knew Abby was a boy.

Logically, he knew it didn't make sense. After all, it wasn't like he thought Enjin disapproved of those kinds of relationships— Semiu had never exactly been quiet about her preferences, and Enjin supported her 110%.

But for Zanka, it was different. The standards were always different, when it came to him.

Of course they were. He already had so much to make up for. He couldn't add more to the list.

"…It's just…not what people are expecting now." Unconsciously, Zanka began to curl in on himself. "And Enjin—"

"This is about Enjin?" Riyo leaned closer, a firm certainty in her voice. "Zanka, he won't care, I promise you. He won't see you any different."

"I—" Zanka shook his head. "I can't. It's not his fault or anyone else's. I just can't."

A silence fell over them, both parties seeming to have reached a stalemate.

"…I'm not gonna say I understand what it's like. 'Cause I don't." Riyo shifted to sit next to him, on the other side of the box. "I'm not in a relationship. I'm not dealing with all that pressure. I wasn't raised like you. But even if you don't tell us anything else about him, I do think you should be honest about this. I'm not saying you have to like, announce it, to the whole building," Riyo reached over to squeeze his hand, "but I think you should at least tell Enjin. You mean a lot to him, and that includes all the different parts of you. More than anyone else here, he'd want to know."

Even though it didn't make the thoughts go away, it was reassuring to hear that.

To hear a confirmation like that said out loud, truly and undeniably existing.

"Thanks, Riyo." Zanka couldn't fight the small smile that formed on his face.

"I think it'd help you. Genuinely."

And even though he knew he shouldn't—

Even though he knew he'd already hurt them so much—

"…One day. I'll try. I will."

He couldn't stop himself from making another promise he knew he wouldn't have the strength to keep.

"Good. I promise I won't spoil the surprise." Riyo grinned, reaching over to throw her arms across Zanka's shoulders. "'Course, I also love you no matter what, and when you do end up telling other people, I'm totally gonna rub it in their faces that you told me first."

"Don't think 'told' is the right word." Zanka huffed, leaning into the touch all the same. "More like 'got interrogated by'."

"Eh, it's the same thing." Riyo picked up the box, pushing it into Zanka's hands. "Now come on, stop moping. Let's go find Delmon so we can figure out how to make these last."

And magically, even with a million problems still weighing on his back, for now, Zanka felt better.

He didn't deserve Riyo.

He didn't deserve any of them.

* * *

"Really?" Zanka glared at Jabber from where the Raider was pinned under Assistaff. "Puttin' the note at the bottom?"

"Warned ya a long time ago." Jabber snickered, a smug look on his face. "Not my fault you didn't remember."

"Shut the hell up, ya knew what you were doing." Zanka planted a foot on Jabber's stomach, resting it there for the moment. "And what the hell was with that note anyways? Ya realize that some of the other Cleaners might've seen it, right?"

Semiu probably had. Riyo had pestered Zanka to read it to her after their conversation.

"Decided to leave the cover story up to you. Little surprise brain-teaser for ya." Jabber tilted his head. "So? What'd ya go with?"

"Said it was some creepy-ass stalker." Zanka pressed his foot down for a second, quickly stopping as his glare deepened. "Don't know if ya deserve this right now, ya little shit."

"C'mon baby," Jabber emphasized the pet name teasingly, hands reaching for Zanka's ankle, "I got ya flowers. And I'm using the other half of 'em to whip up something real nice."

That's what Jabber had been referring to in his note, obviously—

Wait a minute.

"Half?" Zanka paused, caught off guard.

"Wasn't like there was a whole lot of 'em." Jabber rolled his eyes. "Needed to keep at least some for my toxin collection. Greedy ass."

"You gave me a whole half?" Zanka's eyes widened even further than they already were.

"I mean, that's kinda an oxymoron but yeah— ohhhh." Something seemed to click in Jabber's brain, grin returning. "You meant it the other way. 'Course I did."

Jabber's voice dropped to a near-whisper, eyes gleaming.

"You deserve it."

Those stupid words again.

Zanka didn't hesitate to slam his foot into Jabber's stomach, with a renewed enthusiasm.

* * *

"Stop fussin'." Zanka gave Rudo a look. "Told ya I'll be fine. 'M still standin'."

"I'm not fussing." Rudo crossed his arms, caught in the act. "T-Turdface."

That was probably the most half-hearted jab he'd ever heard from the kid.

Another mission, taken up by him, Rudo, and Enjin, this time ending in another injury for Zanka.

Except, he couldn't be too mad at himself for this one. No, this one was completely on Rudo.

The kid had just activated a new, random object with his gloves, quickly trying to get a hold of its abilities, like usual. This time, however, he'd been a bit too reckless.

Which explained the giant gash on the back of Zanka's right shoulder.

Okay. He didn't blame the kid that much. Rudo's power was a difficult one to deal with, and even though he'd made a lot of progress, he still didn't have the same amount of experience as someone like Riyo or Zanka. So, while he was initially irritated by it, Zanka wasn't really mad at Rudo.

Especially not when he stood there fiddling with his hands like that.

"Back up, twerp! You're not fixing anything by standing there twiddling your thumbs!"

Being that they were a little ways away from HQ, Enjin had declared an emergency pit stop.

And who else would he bring them to other than Alice Stilza?

"Sorry ma'am!" Rudo jumped, shuffling to the side.

As grateful as Zanka was for someone to patch him up before he got back to HQ, he did feel a little out of his depth when it came to dealing with the loud doctor. He would've preferred Enjin to be present— Alice seemed to like him at least a little bit— but his mentor had told them he needed to update HQ on their status, and would be back in a few minutes.

"And Blondie! Stop just standing there and sit down!" Alice pointed to a stool. "I'd rather treat you while you're still conscious!"

Oh well. He'd have to bear with it until then.

Zanka sat down, unzipping his jacket and bunching it up in his lap. He could still see Rudo peering at him from the corner of his eye, the boy trying and failing to hide his obvious worry. Zanka hooked his fingers under the edge of his undershirt, when—

Hold on.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Let me have a look at it!"

That was the problem.

He could absolutely not let anyone "have a look at it".

Because while taking his shirt off would allow the gash to be seen, it would also reveal the metric fuck-ton of hickeys on his neck.

Nope. No.

Zanka had put up with a lot through his life. Trash beasts, the Hell Guard, his blood family, but this? No. He wasn't doing this.

"…Is something wrong?" Rudo's voice was uncharacteristically small, the boy more antsy than Zanka had ever seen him.

"I." As many situations as Zanka had been able to lie his way out of, he didn't think he'd be able to pull off this one. "Um."

"Come on, Barcode Brows! Show me before the brat pisses himself!"

"I-I'm not gonna piss myself!"

"Then stand still!" Alice snapped back to Zanka. "Well? You gonna keep wasting time and bleed all over my floor?"

Maybe Rudo should've just killed him instead.

Unfortunately, Zanka had not yet unlocked the secrets to time travel, so he was going to have to compromise. If taking his shirt off was unavoidable for getting his wound treated, then maybe the best he could do was—

"Uh." Zanka's eyes flicked between Rudo and Alice. "Can he uh— leave?"

If it was possible for Rudo to look even more concerned than he was right now, Zanka hoped he would never have to see it.

"Zanka—"

"Oh, of course! Doctor-patient confidentiality is always a priority!" Alice stood up, shooing Rudo out of the room. "You heard him! Come on, scram!"

Rudo tried to protest, but was ultimately helpless as Alice shoved him out of the door. She stomped back over to the stool across from him, planting herself on it.

"Alright, now get to it!"

"Just uh—" Zanka began to slowly inch the undershirt upwards. "Can you please…not tell anyone about this? Ever?"

"What'd I just tell you about doctor-patient confidentiality?" Alice's screaming was beginning to make his ears physically hurt. "Now get a move on, I don't have all day!"

Sucking in a deep breath, Zanka pulled the shirt over his head, the sting of pain from exerting his shoulder really not helping the situation.

He stared at the ground, not daring to move his eyes an inch.

It wasn't like he had a reason to seek approval from Alice, but to hear disappointment or disgust from anyone, regardless of—

"Turn around already! I'm assuming that those aren't what you want me to treat!"

"Yes ma'am." Zanka got the words out as quick as he could manage, turning to expose his back to Alice.

At least she didn't seem to care. And, as a bonus, it seemed she'd gone quiet now that she was working. Small blessings.

After a minute or so, Zanka finally let himself relax. It helped that he didn't have to see her face, preventing his brain from scanning her expression for any kind of hidden judgment. Instead, he was left to stare at the door.

The door that he was completely helpless to stop from opening as the handle began to turn.

Oh no.

"Hey Auntie, how's— holy shit."

Enjin's jaw had practically dropped to the floor.

And despite how mortifying it all was—

Despite how much Zanka wanted to melt into the floor and never be seen again—

Despite how many nights he was gonna be kept up thinking about this exact moment—

He barely managed to hold back the instinctual response that'd popped into his brain.

You should see the other guy.

Because really, if Enjin thought Zanka looked bad, seeing what he'd done to Jabber would probably give his mentor a stroke.

Since Zanka could absolutely not say that, he was left to scramble for any other response in his brain, which naturally, seemed to be completely useless right now.

Once it'd finally began to start up again, maybe after half a minute of just staring at Enjin, Zanka had the decency to bring his jacket and undershirt up to his chest, although that did little in helping his mentor unsee what was beneath the cloth.

"So, uh." Enjin shifted awkwardly where he stood. "Been…busy lately?"

The deep shade of red covering Zanka's entire face had to be setting records.

Another fuck up. No way Enjin didn't think he was some kind of weirdo now. Stupid, stupid, stupid—

"Sorry, sorry, probably not the best thing to say." Enjin pulled over a chair, sitting across from Zanka. "Just caught me off guard. A lot."

Why couldn't they have just left Zanka to bleed out and die?

"You're not in trouble or anything!" Enjin rushed to say, supposedly after having seen Zanka's expression. "…Alright, there isn't really a way for this to not be awkward. I get it. I was your age once. And I know this all feels strange for you, but before you start getting stuck in your head about this, I just wanna let you know that those feelings, or, uh, urges are completely normal. You're not weird for having them, and I'm not gonna judge you for them."

Zanka never wanted to hear Enjin say the word "urges" like that again.

He managed to choke out a short "thanks", still not meeting his mentor's eyes, and having no desire to address the rest of the situation.

"Listen." Enjin took in a deep breath, clearing his throat. "I don't know how much the Nijikus taught you—"

Wait a minute.

"—but as your current guardian, I feel like it's my responsibility to—"

Was he—

"Are we really gonna do this right now?" Zanka clutched the clothes to his chest even tighter, looking at Enjin in horror. "Here?"

"I mean." Enjin glanced around the room. "…Isn't a doctor's office the best place for it?"

"He's right, you know!"

Fuck, Zanka had almost forgotten all about Alice.

"I know it's embarrassing." Enjin sighed, grabbing the back of his neck as he cracked it. "But hey, this day was gonna come sooner or later. Might as well get it out of the way. Alright, so when a man and a woman…"

This was it.

This was officially the worst day of Zanka's life.

Forget the fight in the trash beast. Forget the well. Forget Hyo.

It was this.

After a long, extremely uncomfortable talk that Zanka very much did not need, (he wasn't exactly worried about Jabber getting pregnant, after all), intercut with various brazen (and unwanted) facts from Alice, he was finally patched up, fully clothed, and ready to go back to Cleaners HQ and never leave his room ever again.

He opened the door to the clinic, not bothering to wait for Enjin—

—only to come face to face with a very traumatized-looking Rudo.

Oh. Okay.

Well.

Guess Zanka had to just kill himself now.

* * *

Zanka was standing outside of Enjin's door.

It was two hours or so after he'd had dinner, and he was standing outside of Enjin's door.

He knew his mentor was inside, up to who-knew-what, and he was standing outside of Enjin's door.

He was standing outside of Enjin's door, because he was supposed to tell him that "Abby" was a boy.

Initially, he'd planned on keeping that to himself until the day he'd died. But lately, he'd been thinking about what Riyo had said to him. And he wanted to believe her.

Zanka really shouldn't be doing this. Even if only for the practical reason of not building upon a lie that he knew he had to cut off at some point.

But he couldn't ignore the tiny pain in his chest that was beginning to ache more and more each time he referred to "Abby" as "she" or "her". Especially when he was talking to Enjin. Especially when he was talking to Enjin while Riyo was there.

It was dumb. In comparison to the rest of the truth, this was nothing.

Still, for whatever reason, this was getting harder and harder to stand.

Alright. He'd been standing here long enough.

Zanka raised a hand to knock—

It never met the door.

He couldn't do this. Not today.

Slowly, Zanka backed away from the door, trudging down the hallway.

He felt like an idiot. The task seemed simultaneously simple and monstrously insurmountable. But as much as he wanted to put it off, he knew that the amount of time he could keep putting up with this was growing thin.

Even though any option would lead to disaster, it still felt like he needed to do something.

Honestly, the idea of telling people he had a "boyfriend" instead of a "girlfriend" didn't even bother him that much now. It was just telling Enjin that was the problem. The one person Riyo had said he should tell.

Would it help then, to tell someone else?

The main issue with that was worrying about that person letting it slip to Enjin. So that immediately knocked Rudo off the list. (Not that he wanted to talk to the kid about anything relating to that since…The Incident.)

So who did that leave?

If he was just looking for someone who wouldn't tell Enjin, Amo would be a pretty good choice. But it wasn't like he was particularly close with her, and with how much she seemed to enjoy talking about the topic of love, she'd probably end up telling someone eventually, even if it wasn't Enjin. Still, Zanka wanted to keep strict control on who exactly knew about this. Besides, the person she'd probably be most likely to tell would be Rudo, which immediately disqualified her as an option.

Eishia was similar in that Zanka wasn't really that close with her. Given how much she already had to deal with, he wouldn't want to put a burden like that on her. He of all people knew the stress of keeping a secret, after all.

Who else? Follo? Zanka had a feeling that'd probably be awkward in some way. Semiu? While she also had, uh, similar proclivities, he'd been avoiding her like the plague since he'd started this whole charade, for obvious reasons.

This was hard.

Maybe he should just learn to be satisfied with only Riyo knowing.

Zanka let out a long sigh.

"Is something wrong, Zanka?"

It seemed that during his pondering, he'd wandered his way to the common room, almost bumping into the person who'd just walked out of it.

Gris.

Could he tell Gris?

It wasn't like they were insanely close, but Gris had always been kind to him. Even though Gris was close to Enjin, Zanka trusted him enough to keep a secret.

Should he tell Gris?

He really shouldn't tell anyone else. He really shouldn't go any deeper with this. He really shouldn't risk it, but—

"Gris?" Zanka swallowed, biting the bullet before he could change his mind. "Can I talk to you for a minute? Privately?"

One quick walk to Gris's room later, and okay, this was it. Zanka really couldn't back out now. This was a mistake, he knew it was a mistake, he should've—

"Hey, calm down. Everything's okay." Gris gestured to a small table and set of two chairs by the entrance to his room. "Sit down, and let's talk."

Silently, Zanka sat in one of the chairs, clutching Assistaff to his chest like a shield.

"Okay." Gris sat across from him, a gentle smile on his face. "What'd you want to talk about?"

Was it really too late?

How was Zanka even supposed to start this?

"…I wanted to say…I haven't," Zanka took in a large breath, "been exactly…honest. About something."

"Alright. What is it?" Gris nodded, expression betraying no judgment.

At this point, it felt easier for Zanka to list the things he had been honest about.

"…It's about Abby." He curled further in on himself, if that was even possible.

"Mhm?" Gris sat there patiently, not pressing further, even as Zanka went fully silent.

"Just—" Zanka started again, with a short spurt of confidence that flickered out just as quickly as it'd came. "…If Abby…if she wasn't my girlfriend…would that be okay?"

"What do you mean by that?" Gris's brows creased slightly with concern.

"…If she…if he was actually my boyfriend instead—" Fuck, Zanka's hands were shaking bad. "Would that be…okay?"

There it was. Out in the open again.

"Oh, Zanka." Gris's face softened as he reached across the table to place a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "Of course it is."

And even though Zanka should've known Gris wouldn't care— he'd never been that kind of person, and again, Semiu was right there— it felt like a dam had broken in his chest.

It took a lot of effort to not cry.

It took a lot more effort once Gris started rubbing his hand along the back of his shoulder.

"Is there a reason you didn't tell us?" Gris words were even, not the slightest hint of a doubt or waver.

"It's not any of yer faults. 'S just me." It felt important to get that out first, to let Gris know who the sole person responsible was. "…I mean, 's just what Enjin said first, and I didn't know what to say. And I really…I really don't have a problem with the others knowing now. I just— just—"

Zanka put his hands out, like he was trying to grasp the air.

"…I just don't want Enjin to know."

"Enjin?" Gris frowned, withdrawing his hand as Zanka shifted back. "Why not?"

"I don't think— it's not that I think he doesn't approve of that sort of thing." Zanka rushed to defend his mentor, not wanting to make it sound like he was insulting or slandering him. "The problem is— for me—"

This was the hard part.

"Enjin's proud of me for having a girlfriend. And I don't want to disappoint him.

Gris went quiet, folding his hands on the table, letting Zanka speak.

"He keeps tellin' me how it reminds him of when he was my age, and the relationships he had. And those, those were with girls." Now that he'd started, it was hard to stop. "I keep thinkin', if he knew, if he knew the truth, then that'd stop. I wouldn't— wouldn't remind him of himself anymore, and I want to keep hearing that, it makes me feel, I don't know, more connected to him."

Zanka barely remembered to fit in a breath.

"And I know he doesn't care about people— other people— being— being gay—" Zanka's voice dropped to almost a whisper on the word, like it physically pained him to say it. "But what if he thinks I'm weird? What if he thinks I have some kind of crush on him— I don't, I don't see him that way, I promise— and he stops being…stops being so nice to me? What if he stops pattin' my head, or stops huggin' me or— What if he thinks I'm disgusting?"

Zanka gripped his hands into his hair, tugging at the strands hard.

"H-He's proud of me Gris, and I don't want him to stop."

That final admission felt like it'd taken all the air out of him, leaving him to gasp, leaving him with lungs that weren't working—

"Hey, hey, Zanka." Gris had rounded the table, placing his hands on Zanka's wrists and lightly guiding them away from his hair. "Breathe. Just try and copy me, okay?"

It was a while until Zanka felt like he could breathe properly again, straining his ears to hear Gris's exaggerated breaths, ears still ringing from the spiral he'd just gone down. Only then did Gris return to his seat, leaving Zanka with a reassuring squeeze to his hand.

"Alright." Gris's expression turned serious. "Do you want to hear what I think? Being completely honest?"

Zanka nodded.

Even if it would hurt, even if it would tear him apart, he wanted to hear the truth.

"Zanka," Gris reached across the table to lift the boy's chin, making sure he was looking him in the eye, "that man loves you. You're his kid, just like Riyo, just like Rudo. That isn't going to change. Not ever."

Oh.

Zanka had thought it in his head plenty of times, thought about how he saw Team Akuta as his real family, thought about how Enjin felt like his father, but to hear it from someone else, to hear it from Gris, someone so close to Enjin—

It was enough to break him.

He didn't bother to wipe away the tear that slipped down his face. Or the next one. Or the one after that.

"He won't think you're weird. It won't change how he treats you. And you having a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend won't stop him from seeing himself in you." Gris continued, expression melting into something kinder again. "And it definitely wouldn't stop him from being proud of you. I don't think anything could."

If only he knew.

Out of any of the people at Cleaners HQ, Jabber had probably hurt Gris the most, after all.

But still, even with that in mind, it was always the same story with Zanka—

"Thanks, Gris." Zanka sniffed, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "I mean it. Really."

He just couldn't resist taking what he didn't deserve.

"It's no problem. I'm glad you trusted me." Gris smiled, tilting his head curiously. "So, is there a different name I should be calling 'Abby'?"

"No!" Zanka shook his head quickly, on instinct, rattling his already disassembled brain. "Sorry, I just— I actually do call him that. 'S a nickname. And…I don't think I want to share his real name. Not…right now."

Not ever, really, but it felt unfair to say that now.

"Alright." Gris nodded. "Abby it is."

"…Please don't tell anyone else. Please don't tell Enjin." Zanka took in a deep breath, feeling a little bit more like himself. "I want to tell him at some point. I've been tryin'. I promise. I'm just…not ready yet."

"Of course. I won't say anything. Besides, if it helps," Gris pulled off a glove, holding his hand up, "I've got a feeling Enjin won't mind as much as you think."

Hold up.

There was a black ring on Gris's finger, with a thinner red ring resting above it.

The imitation was clear, he knew exactly whose tattoos the rings reminded him of—

"Wait, ya mean you and Enjin are…" Zanka gaped at the man across from him, thrown completely off guard.

"I figured it was only fair. After you told me something so personal." Gris laughed softly. "It's part of the reason I said he'll still see himself in you— he doesn't want to tell anyone yet either. Mind keeping my secret for me too?"

Fuck.

Zanka felt like the worst person in the world.

Here Gris was, being honest with him, while Zanka was still lying to his face.

"…I won't tell anyone." Zanka tried to put a smile on his own face, trying to not let any of the guilt shine through. "Thank you for tellin' me. Thank you for all of this."

"Already told you," Gris reached over to pat his shoulder again, "it's no problem."

How much longer would Zanka be able to stand this?

"Thanks for telling me the truth."

Not long. Not long at all.

* * *

Despite his inner turmoil, Zanka had missed missions with just him and Enjin. Obviously, the supporters were there too, but Enjin's attention would mainly remain on Zanka through the duration of the mission.

(Something, something, "wasn't hugged enough as a child"— shut up, he was fine.)

He had mixed feelings on the fact that Gris wasn't there for this mission. On one hand, his presence had felt extremely reassuring since their talk. On the other, he didn't know if he'd be able to stop looking between Gris and Enjin if the Supporter was here, trying to pick up on any signs he'd missed about their hidden relationship.

But that wasn't the point. He was at work right now; he needed to focus.

"Looks like this one won't take long." Enjin rested Umbreaker over his shoulders. "Maybe we can even stop somewhere fun before heading back."

"Wouldn't mind some free time." Zanka activated Assistaff, fixing his eyes on the hulking silhouettes of the trash beasts in front of them.

Really, between the two of them, it'd be an easy mission. Nothing more than—

"Awe, Mr. Bad Attitude, didja come all the way out here to play in the trash?"

Zanka whirled around, just in time to see Jabber jump down from the pile of debris he'd been standing on, landing with a solid thud a few feet away.

"That's reaaaaaal boring." Jabber grinned, something hungry flashing in his eyes. "How 'bout you 'n I play together instead?"

It wasn't the first time it'd happened. Sometimes, especially when they hadn't gotten to see each other in a while, Jabber would crash his missions. Of course, it was the perfect pretense for a fight.

Even if they had to hold back on certain aspects.

Or, well, at least Zanka did. Jabber could get away with pretty much anything, given his reputation among the other Cleaners.

Still, a fight was a fight, and that alone was enough to send a spark of excitement up Zanka's spine.

"I'll handle him." Zanka didn't even turn back to face Enjin, his focus narrowing in on the Raider in front of him.

"Alright. I'll go clean up the trash then. You've made a lot of progress, so go kick his ass good, Zanka." Enjin gave him a solid pat on the shoulder.

His mentor began to head towards the trash beasts, before his footsteps stopped, followed by the sound of his shoes swiveling against the ground as he turned around—

"Hey, if you win, you can tell your girlfriend all about it! Bet she'll be real proud of you!"

Jabber's eyes widened, face falling deceptively neutral.

Uh oh.

"Might even give you a kiss as a reward!" Enjin laughed, continuing on towards the trash beasts. "Give him hell, Zan-zan!"

And with that, he was gone.

Somehow, he always managed to say the worst things at the wrong times. It was like that mission in Amo's tower all over again. Zanka suppressed the urge to run after his mentor and strangle him.

Instead he was left staring at Jabber, an impending sense of doom weighing on his mind.

He put a hand up.

"Wait—"

Jabber lunged at him, with a speed that seemed impossible, Mankira bursting into her full form.

Ah, yes.

How could Zanka forget the classic saying?

Hell hath no fury like an emotionally-closed-off-masochist-just-recently-opened-up-to-the-idea-of-gentle-affection scorned.

Zanka barely had time to raise Assistaff up to protect himself, arms almost buckling as Mankira's blades clashed against her with the force of a truck.

Shit.

He pushed off of the claws, trying to put some distance between him and Jabber

"Didn't know you were a two-timer." Jabber's voice was dripping with pure fury, smile absent for once.

Zanka needed to fix this. Fast.

"I can explain—"

He was cut off by another blow, one he barely managed to dodge.

"Really? You can?" Jabber didn't hesitate to swing his other set of claws at Zanka. "I think it's pretty damn clear!"

The back of Mankira's blades smacked into Zanka's side, sending him flying into a nearby pile of debris.

"You're a liar. You're a fucking liar!"

Fuck.

Jabber was going to kill him. Jabber was going to kill him, and it was entirely Enjin's fault.

Okay. Maybe it was also Zanka's fault. Like a lot.

But it wasn't like he really had time to worry about that right now.

Not when ten giant claws were flying at his face.

Zanka remained on the defensive, not attempting any attacks of his own, trying and failing to convince Jabber to stop, every sentence cut off before he got more than three words out. He could barely keep up. If he'd thought Jabber was fast before, if he'd thought Jabber's hits had had a lot of power behind them before, that was nothing compared to how the Raider was fighting right now.

Hell, the only reason Zanka was still standing was because of how reckless Jabber was being. This was nothing like how he usually fought— each of his moves lacking their signature precision and careful calculation, driven by nothing but pure rage and grief.

And the worst of it was—

"You really are a sadist, aren't you?" Jabber took another wild swipe at Zanka, a manic, yet joyless, grin having formed on his face at some point. "Gettin' me all soft and vulnerable, just so you can carve me up!"

Jabber's locs were blown out of his face with the movement, giving Zanka a clear look at the Raider's eyes.

He looked hurt.

More hurt than Zanka had ever seen him before. There was a real, undeniable pain in his eyes, and not the kind that either of them enjoyed.

And even though it was a misunderstanding, one that could easily be cleared up if Jabber would just let the Cleaner talk, Zanka couldn't even blame him for his reaction. Hell, if he'd been told Jabber was seeing someone else, after everything they'd built together, he'd be reacting the exact same way.

Still, he needed to do something.

Zanka had started with good intentions.

Or at least, he'd started innocently enough.

"Jabber!"

Another hit.

He'd just wanted to stop the other Cleaners from finding out about their relationship.

"Jabber, come on—"

Another near miss.

And maybe, just a tiny, little bit, he'd wanted someone to be proud of him.

"Listen to me!"

He'd been blinded by his own hubris. He'd been far too ignorant towards the consequences. And now he had to reckon with that, as he slowly realized—

"What happened to 'no one else'?" Jabber was laughing, hollow and empty. "What happened to 'just us'?"

—he'd really fucked up.

Distantly, he could hear the sound of approaching footsteps, followed by a concerned shout of his name.

Enjin.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

Zanka really didn't need that right now. If Enjin came over here, if he got in the middle of this, tried to fight Jabber, at least one person, if not more, would be coming away from this incident severely injured, an outcome Zanka didn't want for any of the three of them.

He needed to find a way to get through to Jabber, and he needed to do it quick.

The only problem was that Jabber wasn't listening to a word he was saying.

Wait.

There was an idea. Except, to pull it off, he'd need to be able to actually speak for a minute, uninterrupted. That meant he couldn't just dodge. He needed to physically make Jabber stop for a moment.

This was a really stupid, dangerous idea.

But it just might work, and it wasn't like he had a lot of other options, nor time to consider said, non-existent options.

He waited for Jabber's next strike, watching carefully, knowing exactly what was at stake, knowing the timing on this had to be perfect—

There.

In a flash, he dropped Lovely Assistaff, hands reaching out towards the claws swinging at him, not in defense, but to grab. Firmly, he gripped the blunt end of the claw attached to Jabber's left ring finger, only to find he was severely unprepared for the amount of force that followed it.

The blow knocked him to the floor, flat on his back, momentum carrying the blade further, further, further—

Zanka stopped Mankira's blade maybe less than an inch above his throat, arms shaking with the effort.

The movement had also brought Jabber to his knees, straddling Zanka, surprise and something that looked like fear flashing over his face. He paused, Mankira no longer being pressed forward, being pulled back, even, just slightly, a small hesitation—

Perfect.

Zanka sucked in a large breath, taking in as much air as his lungs could manage.

"Calm down, Abby!"

Please, let that have been loud enough.

He wouldn't ask for anything else, just as long as that'd been loud enough for—

"…You really gonna call that now?" Jabber pulled back his left hand again, this time with the obvious intent to drive Mankira forward instead of pulling her away. "You sadist—"

"Wait, that's Abby?!"

Jabber froze at the interruption of Enjin's voice.

Oh thank fuck, it'd worked.

Zanka could already see the gears turning in Jabber's mind, trying to make sense of the whole situation. Mankira hung over Zanka's neck with no force behind it at all now, providing no resistance as he guided the blade to be planted in the dirt beside his head.

Jabber was smart. Zanka knew he could piece it together just from the few clues he had now.

Still, given all the stress Zanka had just put him through, a little reassurance wouldn't hurt.

"He was talkin' about you." Zanka gently stroked the side of the claw he'd just moved, hoping it'd work as a temporary substitute for physical comfort, given their current positions. "He just didn't know it."

A second passed.

Then another.

Then Zanka saw it, the exact moment that the truth clicked.

Jabber broke out into a fit of laughter, Mankira deactivating as he gripped his sides.

Zanka let out a sigh of relief.

Unfortunately, now he had a whole new problem to deal with.

"I thought she—" Enjin sputtered, completely and truly at a loss for words. "How—"

In his fit, Jabber had rolled off of Zanka, allowing the latter to start to stand up.

"But she— she let you wear her jewelry!"

Jabber kept laughing, amusement seemingly endless.

Zanka let him. Honestly, he owed it to the Raider, after the whole mess he'd just caused.

Besides, as annoying as it was, this was far better than having to see that pained look on his face.

"She put all those rings on you when you broke your leg! So you wouldn't overwork yourself!"

The Raider started kicking his feet against the ground, seeming to be unable to contain himself.

"She brought you flowers!"

Jabber was just about in hysterics.

"I mean yeah, she was a little bit of a freak, but— wait a minute, do you mean all of those hickeys were from—"

The volume of Jabber's laughter reached a new peak. He wheezed, almost choking on air.

Finally, the lie had unraveled. Zanka didn't know how he was going to recover from this one.

Maybe the humiliation was his punishment.

"Hold up."

Jabber had jumped up to his feet, laughter abruptly cut off, expression completely serious.

"You talk about me to the other Cleaners?"

Uh oh. Was Jabber mad at him again?

He didn't know what answer the Raider was searching for, but given the mess he'd just gotten himself out of, he really wasn't eager to start lying again.

"I guess?" Zanka nodded, a look of uncertainty on his face. "Kinda?"

"And you call me Abby even when I'm not around?" Jabber held unyielding eye contact, barely blinking.

"…Yep."

Where was he going with this?

"And all the Cleaners know you're with someone?"

"Yeah." Zanka frowned, still very much confused.

Jabber grabbed him by the face, pulling him in to plant a wet, messy kiss directly on his lips.

The noise Enjin made sounded like a dying bird.

"You got no idea how that's got me feeling, Zan-zan." Jabber pulled back by just barely an inch, pressing their foreheads together. "Next time we see each other, you can do anything you want to me. Whatever sick thing your mind comes up with, I promise, I'm all yours—"

Zanka slapped a hand over Jabber's mouth, officially at his limit.

Please tell him Enjin hadn't heard that.

Please.

Just a few a minutes ago he'd begged for the opposite, but now he took it all back.

Jabber pulled Zanka's hand off his mouth, leaning over to yell to the other Cleaner.

"Don't keep him locked up too long, okay? I want him back at some point." He gave Zanka one last grin. "See ya, Mr. Bad Attitude."

With that, he was gone, disappearing somewhere through the ruins and piles of debris making up the landscape.

Leaving Zanka and Enjin. Alone.

Slowly, Zanka turned around to face his mentor.

"…I-"

"Really? Really?"

This was going to be a long car ride.

* * *

As predicted, Zanka had been absolutely right.

Too worn out to process anything until he was able to crash in his room, he'd tuned out most of Enjin's rant, which, from what he'd gathered, was a monologue following a very accelerated run of about half of the five stages of grief.

Denial.

"There's no way. You've gotta be fucking with me."

Anger.

"In case you forgot, he's a Raider! Y'know, the enemy? Also, he's batshit insane!"

Bargaining.

"If only I'd noticed sooner— why didn't I realize something was wrong?"

He seemed to loop right back around to the start after that. If Zanka were paying a bit more attention, maybe the words would've cut a bit deeper, but honestly he was kind of done right now. As it was, the pain in his chest was mostly a dull ache right now.

I mean, it was a bit hard to focus on that when he was fearing for his life.

Seriously, Enjin's driving seemed to be twice as reckless, and Zanka hadn't even thought that was possible.

Miraculously, they arrived at Cleaners HQ alive.

It appeared that Enjin had no intention of ending his lecture at the door, continuing even as he followed Zanka aimlessly into the building. He'd looped back to anger (rather, extreme passive-aggressiveness) by the time they'd approached the common room, the door to which was being held open by Riyo, who'd presumably heard Enjin's voice from down the hall.

"…What's going on?" She glanced between the two of them curiously. "What happened?"

Behind her, the rest of the inhabitants of the common room seemed equally interested. From where he was standing, Zanka could see Rudo, Amo, Guita, Dear, Follo, Tomme, Gris— and okay that was way too many people.

"I met 'Abby' today." Enjin stopped in front of the doorway, gripping the sleeve of Zanka's jacket to stop him from going anywhere, voice low.

"Oh." Gris put a smile on, clearly trying to diffuse whatever situation was going on. "That must've been nice."

"You'd think. Except Zanka here," Enjin pulled at said Cleaner's sleeve aggressively, "somehow forgot to mention that 'Abby' was short for Jabber fucking Wonger."

Looking out onto the collective shock and subsequent commotion from the common room, Zanka knew in his heart of hearts that there was no way he would ever live this down.

"I mean, come on kid!" Enjin threw his hands up, giving Zanka an exasperated look. "You've been lying all this time? Hell, you didn't even tell us you liked guys, never mind—"

Well.

In his defense, Zanka was in desperate need of escape, and he saw an opening.

And after everything else that had happened since Zanka had walked into this common room with those oleander earrings in—

He'd lost his sense of shame.

"I told Gris." Zanka quickly pointed a finger at the man.

Enjin paused his rant with a loud gasp, staring at Gris, eyes wide in a look of betrayal.

Sorry for throwing you under the bus, Gris, Zanka telepathically apologized as he inched down the hallway, breaking into a sprint towards his room once he was around the corner. Thank you for your sacrifice. I hope you can forgive me for this one day. For all the other stuff too.

Eventually reaching his room, Zanka shut the door behind him, face-planting on his bed, exhausted.

At least it couldn't get any worse.

"Zanka?" Semiu's voice crackled out of his choker.

Damn it.

"Could you come down to the Boss's office? He wants to talk with you."

Zanka's heart dropped to the floor. Suddenly, he didn't feel so tired anymore.

In all of his embarrassment about the situation with Enjin, he'd completely forgotten about the other, more serious reasons he should've been way more careful about all of this.

He could be considered a liability.

Thrown out.

Even worse than that, far worse—

They could inform the Hell Guard.

Shakily, he reached for his choker.

"…I'll be right there."

Here they were. The real consequences.

Zanka's heart was beating a mile a minute as he made his way to the Boss's office.

He knew he'd messed up, yeah, but was there any chance at all they'd let him stay? He couldn't be separated from the Cleaners. He couldn't lose this new family that'd found him, that'd loved him—

Before he knew it, he was knocking at the office's door.

This was it. Judgment Day.

"Come in." Corvus's tone revealed nothing, leaving Zanka to walk into the office completely blind.

Corvus was sitting at his desk, Semiu standing nearby. Zanka had been half-expecting to see Kyouka, somehow, as impossible as it would be.

He ran over the piss-poor explanation he'd crafted over in his head during the walk here, hoping they would at least let him say—

"So," Corvus smiled, resting his chin on the backs of his hands, "did the rest of them finally find out?"

"…Yes, sir." Zanka started to nod, feeling like a pinned bug—

Until he realized—

"Wait, what do you mean 'the rest of them'?"

Corvus laughed lightly.

"Zanka, did you honestly think that between me, Semiu, and Shikage, no one would know about Jabber?"

Oh. He had a point.

Zanka actually had kind of assumed they just…hadn't noticed. It felt dumb now. Really dumb.

It made sense. Semiu had probably used her vital instrument on him at some point, given how okay she was with his avoidance of her and things like Jabber's package. Speaking of which, she'd probably lied about "not being able to make out the admirer on camera". And Jabber had been able to get into the building, on multiple occasions. Zanka should've figured that Shikage knew.

But if all that was true—

"Why didn't ya say something?" Zanka looked between the two adults, stunned. "I mean, isn't that a big deal? He's a Raider! Why didn't ya stop me, or kick me out, or something?"

It seemed that in his astonishment, he'd thrown all his survival instincts out the window.

"You know that our organization doesn't really mind what its members get up to in their spare time," Semiu answered, seeming to be amused. "Y'all seen me reading my magazines at the front desk all the time."

"But isn't this different? Like really different?"

"Of course, it was cause for concern when we first found out. But after some more investigation, we decided the relationship didn't pose a serious threat to the Cleaners. I trust you enough to know what not to say to a Raider, after all." Corvus's relaxed demeanor was almost frustrating to Zanka, given how anxious he'd been over all of this. "Besides, it's honestly a tactical advantage for us."

"Tactical?" Zanka frowned, thrown for yet another loop. "How?"

"Even if he'll keep fighting us, don't you think having one Raider that at least won't kill any of our members is advantageous?"

Huh?

"What do you mean?" Zanka blinked, fully lost. "How do you— Why—"

"Think for a moment." Corvus tapped his head, voice calm. "If Jabber killed a Cleaner, would you still continue your relationship with him?"

"Of course not!" It made Zanka angry to just think about the possibility. "That'd be— ohhhh."

"You get it now?"

Zanka nodded slowly.

Now that he was thinking about it, even today, when he'd caught one of Mankira's claws, when Jabber had almost stabbed him in the throat, the Raider had looked scared. Even when he'd thought Zanka had betrayed the most vulnerable parts of him, when he'd probably be the most justified in killing him, even when Zanka would've done the same in his position— he'd stopped.

They always said they were going to kill each other one day, but did they ever really mean it?

Could Jabber kill him?

Could Zanka kill Jabber?

What would happen if one day, the Raider's boss—

"At any rate, I'm sorry for stressing you out. As it is, I see no problem with you continuing your relationship with Jabber." Corvus gave him a small nod of approval. "Everything else will be left up to your team leader."

No need to remind him.

Zanka stood up straight, offering Corvus a bow of genuine gratefulness.

"Thank you, sir." He turned to give the same gesture to Semiu. "And you too, Semiu."

That'd gone better than he'd ever expected it to.

Walking to the door, it was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Oh, and one more thing." Corvus called out to him before he could reach for the door handle. "If you could, I'd like to ask you to keep…certain activities out of the building. For Enjin's sake, along with the others."

Zanka's face flamed. He barely managed to squeak out a "yes" before he made his escape from the office, making a beeline back for his room.

Never mind, he'd been wrong. Jabber had killed him.

Jabber had stabbed him in the throat, he'd bled out and died, and now he was in Hell.

That was the only possible explanation.

* * *

Somehow, in spite of all the lies, in spite of how much Zanka had hidden, the bedroom he was lying in was still his.

He hadn't been kicked out of the Cleaners.

And he'd cleared things up with Jabber too, keeping their relationship in tact.

Almost everything had managed to pan out nicely in the end.

Almost.

There was still a price to be paid, after all.

Zanka curled in on himself, laying on his side.

Enjin's approval, gone in a puff of smoke. He deserved that, after everything he'd done. He'd never really earned it anyway.

Still, it stung.

It'd be a long time before Enjin ever looked at him without some kind of disgust or disappointment, if ever—

A knock on his door.

"Zanka? Can I come in?"

There he was. Zanka really wanted to say no. Enjin had already yelled at him enough today. If he continued now, when Zanka's brain had finally calmed down enough to start working again, it might break something inside the boy.

But even over something this small, he couldn't say no. Not when he had more to make up for than ever before.

"…Yeah." Zanka shifted into a sitting position, mentally bracing himself.

The door opened with a creak, Enjin shutting it quietly behind himself. He didn't say anything as he stalked further into the room, plopping down heavily next to Zanka on the bed.

"I still don't think the shock's worn off." Enjin groaned, rubbing his temples.

Zanka winced.

"I mean, it's not as bad as it was then." Enjin started gesturing with his hands as he spoke, loose, meaningless movements. "I really, like really wasn't expecting that. And…because of that, I think I said some things I shouldn't've. Didn't react how I should have. I've never been good at all that tactful stuff, knowing how to handle things like that. So, kind of just— forget everything else I've said until now. Starting from here, this is my official response, okay?"

Zanka nodded, not daring to make a sound.

"I'm not gonna lie, you broke my trust with this. A lot." The man let out a long, tired breath. "Knowing the truth, I see why you lied, but still. Talking about this girl for so long, telling me you'd let me meet her at some point? If you felt like you couldn't tell me something, I'd rather you tell me that you couldn't share it rather than flat out lie."

That was fair. The rational and irrational parts of Zanka's brain at least agreed on that.

"It's gonna take a while for that trust to build back up. But I am going to be open to letting you build it up again, okay? I wanna make sure you know that. As for all the other stuff—" Enjin paused, a guilty look crossing his face. "I talked to Gris. He told me about…some of the things you said to him. Don't be mad at him, I wouldn't leave him alone 'till he told me."

Given how he'd left Gris to that fate, that was the least that the man deserved to do to Zanka.

"So, anyways, let me make it clear right now. It's perfectly okay that you like guys. And I'm sorry I made you feel like you couldn't tell me."

Zanka shook his head, opening his mouth to deny his mentor of fault, only to be cut off before he could get a word out.

"Let me talk. It doesn't matter to me at all, you're still the same Zanka to me, no matter what, okay? And that goes for everyone else at Cleaners HQ. None of them are gonna judge you, and if they do, let me know so I can go beat the shit outta them."

A small laugh escaped Zanka's lips.

"…And now for the Jabber stuff."

Zanka's mouth immediately morphed back into a thin, straight line.

"I already told you, I'm not good at being tactful. So I'm just gonna be blunt about how I feel about it. I'm confused. I'm concerned. About a lot of different things involving this. And personally, I think you could find someone a lot better, Zanka. But—"

Enjin placed a firm, solid hand on top of his head.

"That doesn't mean I'm not proud of you. I'm always proud of you. Even when you're doing things I wouldn't, even when a responsible person probably wouldn't be. I've been proud of you since the day you climbed out of that well. And that isn't going to stop, crazy Raider boyfriend or not."

Finally, finally, Zanka looked at Enjin.

He was smiling. Genuinely, truly smiling.

"…That goes for this too. I'm proud that you found someone you like, and someone that apparently likes you, even if that person is Jabber Wonger." Enjin shuddered at the name. "As much as I don't like the guy…I'm gonna assume all those gifts weren't just stuff you faked."

"Nah." Zanka held back the instinctual desire to shake his head, not wanting to risk chasing away the hand on top of it. "…They were all real."

Unfortunately, Enjin removed it anyways, running it through his own hair.

"Yeah, that's a whole other can of worms. Not even gonna try and think about that one today." Enjin rested his elbows on his knees. "I know I'm probably overstepping. I know I'm not your dad, and—"

"Yer not," Zanka rushed to say, before realizing that could apply to either of the things Enjin had said. "Oversteppin'. I didn't mean— I wasn't talkin' about the second—"

The implications were clear. Damn it.

If this experience had taught Zanka anything, it was that he was really bad at keeping secrets.

"Oh." It seemed to be Enjin's turn to be shocked now.

Then, a wide grin spread over his face.

"You don't understand how nice it is to hear that, Zan-zan." He threw an arm around Zanka's shoulders, pulling him close. "Well, that's about all I had to say. Anything else you want to tell me? About anything?"

Honestly, Zanka also felt like he had nothing else to say. Miraculously, all the pieces of this complicated, ridiculous puzzle had ended up fitting together so nicely in the end. Zanka was fine with leaving this matter here.

This matter, at least.

There was one thing he had left to say to Enjin.

"…Don't fuck things up with Gris." Zanka leaned into Enjin's side. "Gris 's a good guy, so don't go forgettin' yer own advice now. Talk to him. Don't leave when things get hard."

"Shit, you know about that?!" Enjin gaped at him, alarmed.

Whoops.

He'd figured that when Enjin had talked to Gris, the latter had gone over everything they'd discussed.

Guess he just had to add that to the pile of things he owed Gris for.

"No, no that's on me." Enjin sighed, deflating. "I've really been meaning to tell at least you kids. Makes me a real hypocrite, doesn't it?"

"Yeah." Zanka smiled. "Yeah, it does."

How it'd all managed to end like this was beyond him. He couldn't help but be grateful for it.

"Oh, and Zanka?"

"Hm?"

"You're grounded. Like super, mega grounded."

"…I know."

Hey. He could live with that.