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To say Zanka is pissed would be an understatement.
He had gone by the cafeteria to pick up some food, and then Gris has cornered him like Zanka had stolen his dog, eyes hard, mouth set. He had asked where Follo was, and Zanka had replied with How the hell should I know?
However, deep inside, Zanka had known. He hadn't known how he'd known, but then again, it wouldn't be hard to guess.
Because Follo is now like that dog Gris is overprotective of. A dog with a big meaty bone that will make him sick if he's not careful with it.
So he had decided to keep this between him and Follo — something that has become a regular occurrence nowadays, and not one Zanka necessarily dreads — and track him down. That hadn't been difficult, given that it was halfway between nightfall and midnight at that time, and Zanka had already seen Follo just hours prior.
Zanka had screamed at Follo hours prior.
Yes, he had been harsh. Yes, it had been a bit over-the-top, but the sight of Follo's broken arm had made Zanka tense like a trash beast was nearby, had shocked shivers through his nerves. So much had been happening in that room. Follo's arm practically disfigured, the idiot avoiding eye contact with Zanka, his hammer lying on the spare bed looking almost noticeably dull.
Eishia had been hovering near Follo like a spooked bird, extension cord in her hands, fear in her eyes. That had been the final rope snapping around the bull of Zanka's rage — at Follo for overworking himself, at whatever happened to make Eishia reflexively not believe in herself, at Zanka's own incompetence because why is Follo always winding up in the infirmary? Is Zanka still not good enough, not even to teach something that he objectively has a better grasp on? Even with Rudo, the brat had proved himself some type of prodigy with some gassed-up vital instrument in his possession, and here Zanka is, still utterly, utterly useless.
The minute Follo's arm had been healed, Zanka had stepped forward, arms crossed, and let Follo have it. He can't even remember exactly what he said now. The only thing left in him is shame, gnawing and bitter in his bones.
There's also a sneaking feeling of concern, expanding until it becomes a near-tangible presence in his lungs: a desire, a need to check on Follo, to speak to him, to apologize—
Then he had passed by the infirmary and saw Follo's arm broken yet again and that feeling had soured instantly.
(It's still there though, rooting him to the spot he's lurking in, making him wait until Eishia fully heals Follo's arm again.)
Of course the idiot had disregarded everything that Zanka had said — or screamed — to him and went ahead and fucked up his arm yet again. It's a little disappointing, because Zanka had considered Follo at least slightly more levelheaded than the rest of the weirdos Zanka has to deal with on a daily basis. It also stings, but Zanka tries not to focus on why that's happening.
Then Follo and Eishia were laughing. Eishia. Laughing. Laughing like she hadn't been ready to pass out from panic a moment before. Follo grinning at her like he hadn't been stressing her — and everyone else — out this whole day.
It had been insulting. Disrespectful. Excluding.
So Zanka saunters in at just the right moment, plants himself in the doorway like this room belongs to him. "Well, don't let me spoil all the fun," he drawls, voice dripping with sarcasm.
Both of them jumping in surprise at the sudden sight of him doesn't feel nearly as satisfying as Zanka had hoped it would feel. Whatever.
"Zanka." Eishia is the first to speak, voice tremulous as always. It is strange for her to say anything without being vocally prompted, but Follo seems too busy studying something outside the window. Zanka slows his pace, making his steps slow and methodical. For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of his boots clicking on the floor. He stops beside the cot Follo sits on, and waits until Follo remembers to at least feign guilt. Eishia stands nearby, her nervous energy so great that Zanka can feel the waves of it rolling off her almost viscerally.
Zanka doesn't call Follo's name. Follo doesn't speak at all. Eishia fidgets.
At last, Follo turns his head just a bit, facing Eishia's direction, eyes shielded from view by his dark hair.
"Zanka, please..." Eishia tries again, and it's enough to make Zanka grind his teeth. But he doesn't snap at Eishia. This is not her fault.
"Are you waiting for me to say something?" Follo finally breathes out after many more beats of bereft silence. His voice rasps out hoarse, like he hasn't used it in forever, which Zanka knows isn't the case, because he just saw the two of them laughing it up like no one's fucking business.
"Well, I guess I win then, don't I?" Zanka snaps, making a considerable effort to keep his voice low, lest he scare Eishia. It's a tactic that's always managed to send terror into his soul.
He hears Follo sigh. It's muted, forced to be imperceptible, but Zanka catches it anyways. "Zanka," Follo starts heavily. "I know what you're going to say—"
"Oh wow. Are you frickin' psychic? If you know what I'm going to say, then you should have known how I was going to react to you doing the same stupid shit for the third time today." Zanka can hear himself trying to stop the tirade of irritation threatening to burst from Zanka's lungs, but it's futile: he's angry and the power to stifle it has run dry today. "Then maybe you wouldn't've tried it again."
Now Follo looks at him — glares at him, rather. Gold storms lurk in his eyes. The intensity of it sends Zanka into survival mode for a second. "I need to train."
"You need to think," hisses Zanka, looming closer over Follo. "Do you think I yelled at you before because I liked it? My throat's been acting up 'cause of that. You better buy me some of the fancy cough medicine. And now you're sitting here, busting up your arm again and again, stressing me out, stressing Eishia out—"
"Zanka, please!" Eishia interjects once more, but Zanka is not going to stop. Not until Follo — or someone — listens to him.
(Then again, why should they? Zanka isn't like Follo, who's pure and good and more sure of himself than Zanka ever will be. The guy said that he'd stay a Supporter, and he'd stuck by it, even in the heady haze of superiority one might feel at being blessed with Giver powers.)
No. Zanka is not going to shirk all of Follo's hard work. It didn't just fall into his lap; he had worked tirelessly at it, which is more than what some people can say. Those people seemed to have gained it naturally, an unintentional gift after a lifetime of what some ignorant people would deem 'codependency'. But Follo had planned it, implemented it, kept at it. And it's something that sets him apart from the others to Zanka, because finally, there is someone who Zanka can finally see himself in, someone who may be close to understanding the constant toil and vexation that Zanka suffocates under.
Someone who can prove that Zanka is not fucking insane.
But maybe he can finally understand too — understand why so many people would tell him to "take it easy", why Enjin would insist on dragging Zanka out to his nights on the town when Zanka could have been training instead, why he and Eishia are so familiar with each other now. She's had his blood on her hands so many times that she doesn't even flinch around him as much anymore, responds better to his visits than with others.
(Although it had seemed pretty easy with Follo just now. Why's that?)
Pushing that aside, he can understand. Because Zanka is worried for Follo. He can see what everyone else can see now: a guy who's one more failure away from becoming an absolute madman.
It's a little disheartening.
"So, what was it this time? What brilliant idea did the genius Follo have?" Zanka doesn't know why he's being so mean, but it's coming so easy to him right now.
The sharp glint that cuts into Follo's stormy gaze doesn't help matters. Neither does Follo jumping to his feet to stare Zanka in the face. It's extremely close, extremely dangerous. He's nearly as tall as Zanka, but in that beat, Follo feels like a giant towering over Zanka. He feels a sudden, instinctive itch to grab Lovely Assistaff.
"Don't call me that," Follo seethes.
"What? A genius? It's a compliment. You should like it." It's so damn hypocritical.
Follo seems to see right through Zanka — something only Follo seem able to achieve, something that hasn't happened to Zanka in a long, long time. And Zanka would prefer if that long time became never again.
"Do you like it?"
It makes sense that Follo's jinki is a hammer; it is a personified version of him, driving home points with hard, blunt force with perfect accuracy. It makes Zanka's blood boil in his veins. "I'm not a genius, and you're right. Neither are you."
Follo takes a step closer, which Zanka hadn't thought possible, but as usual, Follo makes it possible. "Don't say it like you're all modest," he snaps, voice thin with derision. "It's demeaning."
"D'ya even know what that means?"
Follo just tilts his head back, watching him with hooded eyes, like Zanka is just some pathetic guy not worth a fight. It's a look that shakes Zanka to his core. "Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot," says Follo quietly.
"Don't act like one then." In a sick, sadistic way, this banter is just the tiniest bit fun, sorry to say.
"I am training, and yes, maybe I'm going overboard, but how else am I going to learn? You have to stop babying me."
"Whoa, I'm not babying you. I'm trying to—" Zanka trips over his own tongue. He can't believe what he had been about to speak out loud.
Protect you.
What is wrong with him?
He tries to play it cool, tossing in a scoff as a distraction as he looks to the side. "Do you know how many pigheaded knuckleheads we have here? Don't go addin' to them, please." He swipes a hand over his face, smoothing it over his forehead. In the span of that second, his eyes catch on to Eishia still hovering in the corner, wringing her small hands. She had been staring at them like a cat in front of a car, but when Zanka looks over, she darts her eyes back to the floor, still fidgeting.
"Yeah, and another thing." Zanka waves an arm in Eishia's direction. "You keep coming to Eishia. Do you know how tired this makes her? How much pressure you're putting her under?"
Eishia gasps like she's surprised to hear someone defend her. Zanka is used to that reaction by now. "No, Zanka, really," she insists, moving forward two hesitant steps. "It's my job, please."
"And do you realize how much it is on her mentally?" continues Zanka, the words flowing out of him before he can think of reining them in. "This stuff scares her."
"She can handle more than you think," snaps Follo.
That response irks Zanka. He doesn't know why, but it does. "What's gonna happen when she can't heal ya right away? You're going to feel bad, sure, but Eishia's going to feel worse. Just 'cause it works the last few times doesn't guarantee it will work later, and she's going to feel like she needs to succeed like she did before. And it'd be one thing if ya fucked up in a mission and needed healin', but when you're out there breaking your arm because ya got no regard for limits or other people's advice, what then, Follo? What then?"
Follo stays silent. His eyes move over to Eishia, staring at her in a way that further annoys Zanka. Just what the hell is happening here? Why is this happening? Did something happen between these two? Why is it bugging him? Zanka looks over to see if Eishia is looking back at Follo.
And she is. The princess of dreading eye contact is meeting Follo's gaze. Sure, she's sweating bullets, but still. It had taken ages for Zanka to have a conversation with Eishia, longer till she looked at him without shaking. What does Follo have that makes things so much easier for him?
There it is again. The disregard. Why is this happening, damn it?
The thing is Zanka can understand why people like Follo, but at the same time, something about him has always itched at Zanka. Maybe it's curiosity, maybe it's aggravation, but it preys on Zanka nonetheless. He can't shake it off, and he feels like he might have to start getting comfortable with this unnameable emotion.
"Do you agree with him, Eishia?" Follo asks gently. His face is softer too, like he's trying to mask how hurt Zanka's words have made him. Zanka is familiar with the look; he's seen it on Follo in the past few weeks more than he's liked.
Zanka turns to face Eishia, stare searching. "You agree, right, Eishia?" Zanka attempts as well. Two can play at this game, huh, Follo?
Eishia looks like she wants to be anywhere else but here. Little noises of distress leave her lips, but no answer. Zanka's heart slowly sinks at the hesitation, but only because it seems like this is out of difficulty choosing, not her usual anxiety.
"I think..." Eishia falls back to the spot she was standing at before, not meeting either of their gazes now. "I think you two shouldn't fight, please."
"Oh, we're not fighting," Zanka says with an exaggerated shrug in Follo's direction, who glances at him askance in return. "This is a stupid trainer telling his stupid student that his stupid decisions are going to make him feel really stupid one of these days."
"Says the guy who just said 'stupid', like, ten times," Follo ripostes.
Zanka is about to retort back when Eishia rushes forth, holding up her hands in a pacifying manner. "Please stop!" she pleads emphatically. "Neither of you are stupid. So please... stop fighting."
Zanka immediately feels guilt shudder through him, ice-cold and incapacitating. But Eishia continues speaking, hands now stroking up and down her own arms wrapped around herself. "It's fine. I think Follo shouldn't push himself, but Zanka, you don't need to be so hard on him. It— It's not as helpful as it seems."
Eishia's grandmother suddenly flashes in Zanka's mind. He falls deeper into the guilt drowning him.
"I think... we should all get some rest, maybe?" suggests Eishia tentatively, eyes flitting between the two of them cautiously.
It is completely quiet in the infirmary then. The night sky is darker now. Zanka keeps looking at the space between Follo and Eishia, suddenly too tired to interact, afraid of their judgement. What is wrong with him?
"If you want to stop training me, I get it," Follo suddenly says, sounding just as defeated Zanka feels. Zanka whips his gaze to his, but Follo's hair is once again in his eyes, blocking them from view. "But I'll say this: You're right, Zanka. But I don't know if I can let go. Sorry."
Before Zanka or Eishia can utter a word, Follo brushes past both of them, so quick that it's clear that he wants to escape. Eishia watches him leave, wariness obvious in her expression, eyebrows drawn together. She has an arm outstretched, reaching for him presumably.
Zanka understands the sentiment.