Archive of Our Own

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The rest of the week after getting home from the freak weather storm at Canvas Town had Team Akuta bombarded with smaller missions, getting rid of trash beasts left and right, eating and sleeping on repeat. Nothing outside the norm until the night before the Doll Festival had finally arrived.  

Anxiety or anticipation are the only two emotions that could accurately describe the energy in the air over the past few days for certain people at the cleaners’ headquarters.  

August and Eishia are looking forward to the Doll Festival with happiness and glee, the siblings being regular attendees. Amo is looking forward to spending time with Rudo and her other new friends on what seems to be a friendly outing in a place full of games and treats. Fu’s just happy to be given something to do while he was on a trial basis with the cleaners. Riyo is also excited, seemingly ready to have some fun before their mission gets in the way.  

Curiously, Enjin had grown more distracted with each day closer to the festival, getting lost in his thoughts more often. The rest of the team had noticed it to some degree, but Enjin had been quick to pretend nothing was wrong and acted like his usual self, with none of them having the savvy to bring it up after.  

And of course, Rudo is high strung, keyed up, tense, just about any word one can think of associated with stress. It was as if he was vibrating with energy, zooming nonstop around the place. The only glimpses Zanka has seen of him were white and black blurs out of the corner of his eyes.  

And Zanka...he would say he didn’t belong in either category. He didn’t feel nervous, nor did he feel eager about the super important mission they had to go on.  

Instead, he had his thoughts on getting stronger, becoming almost single-minded in his pursuit of his goals with every mission he went on, and every trash beast he had to defeat. He's been on a roll lately, with every mission ending in success ever since he got out of the infirmary. But there’s a large part of him that remains unsatisfied, unable to be pleased with any progress he makes. And most undesirably, in times when he didn’t want to think about it at all, he thought of the past and failures. Of geniuses and average people and fakers and a white-haired girl with blank pale eyes.  

However, despite all that’s been going on, he still prepares in the same way he’s done before any other mission tonight.  

With a hard-wired routine.  

So, when he was done with his training session late into the afternoon, he went to his room, put his Lovely Assistaff in her designated spot, took a shower, changed into his casual clothes, and went to the mess hall to eat dinner. 

It’s already bustling with cleaners and supporters outside of uniform when he gets there, and the atmosphere is joyful as everyone eats. Everyone except Tamsy, who is apparently taking a small vacation according to Semiu, is there. When Zanka gets his dinner, a simple tray of soup, rice and seasoned beef, it doesn’t take long for him to spot his team sitting at one of the tables.  

As he approaches, he notices a few additions besides Team Akuta there. At the head of the table, Fu has taken to Enjin’s side like a lost duckling. Despite the man being quite annoyed by the teen, trying to munch on his food, Fu sits right next to him, looking hopeful. The tray in front of him is empty, a couple of small bowls and a big plate licked clean. It's very possible that someone told him to clear his tray. 

Guita, still wearing her vital instrument, sits next to Riyo as they enthusiastically engage in small talk. What about, Zanka isn’t entirely sure. At first glance, they look as if they have nothing in common, but then again, he knows Riyo so much more than he does Guita. He doesn’t interact with anyone from Team Child much. If the younger teen talks about more than kaiju and fighting trash beasts, good for her.  

And then, across from them is another Watchmen Series holder herself, Amo. Amo has taken it upon herself to listen intently to the other two, looking at them with wide open eyes as if trying to soak all information into them.  

Zanka had said that he didn’t particularly care about Amo before, and that still rings true. He didn’t care about her beyond her being a fellow cleaner and a new member contributing to their organization. But even he had to admit that she looks ten times better than how she did when they found her in that tower in Penta. She looks like an actual teenage girl with her new neat haircut, wearing a large, oversized shirt with a cute character design over it and soft shorts as she sat, swinging her legs and those powerful chunky boots back and forth underneath the table.  

He comes to slow stop just a few feet of the table, realizing just how packed it is.  

“Yo, Zanka! It’s about time you made it! Saved you a place right here,” Enjin greets, giving a good pat to the seat next to him on his left, on the longer side of the table. 

Fu had been sitting on his right on the opposite side, with Guita in the middle and then Riyo in the corner. Amo sits in front of Riyo, most likely wanting a seat as far away from Enjin as possible. And then next to her... 

When he goes to sit beside Enjin, an outwardly calm and patient air about him as he sets down his food and sits down, his mind is doing cartwheels inside his head.  

And for two different reasons. The first is happiness, because Enjin had saved Zanka a seat right next to him, which means he prefers Zanka’s presence over everyone else’s at the table. That or he needs someone that could negate Fu’s energy near him, but Zanka is still pleased regardless.  

And the second... 

As Zanka picks up his bowl of rice and a pair of chopsticks, he glances to his left at the empty seat next to him and frowns slightly.  

“Where’s Rudo?” He asks casually, hoping the question sounds normal coming from his mouth.  

Enjin leans back a little, a bit exasperated as he looks at the empty space beside Zanka. “He was here earlier. Already ate his share and everything. He said he wanted to try to go to bed early and see if he could get some sleep for the festival tomorrow.”  

Zanka blinks, utterly surprised upon hearing that. “That’s...responsible of him.”  

“Isn’t it? I was pretty proud when he said it. He must have picked up a thing or two from you,” Enjin says, not knowing how close to the mark he truly is.  

But Zanka feels a jolt in his chest all the same, his grip tightening on his chopsticks as a surge of embarrassment rolls over him. Zanka locks his face in a stoic expression, going back to his food and eating almost mechanically while his insides squirm. 

After the infamous hotel incident, Zanka and Rudo barely had time to catch a glimpse of each other, let alone speak. Since most of the other cleaners were kept in the dark about their real purpose in going to the Doll Festival, Semiu had taken it upon herself to schedule tasks for them to do like normal before they went to “have their day off,” right before flocking off to have her own little impromptu vacation.  

Rudo is already at the stage of going on smaller missions alone with his own supporters. He still trains under Zanka and Zanka still considers himself Rudo’s trainer without a doubt. But that time together has been lessening dramatically, especially during the past days. He could even say that Rudo has been progressing farther even before they got stuck in Canvas Town. Ever since that debacle in that giant trash beast... 

It's a natural progression. Simple development and an increase in skills. What kind of trainer would Zanka be if Rudo still had to be babysat everywhere? It's a testament to his expertise, plus Rudo’s quick learning, that Rudo has advanced so quickly. To think it’s only been a handful of months since they first met. Zanka should be glad that Rudo’s not attached to his hip anymore.  

But he keeps being drawn back to the empty space next to him, as if the other would suddenly materialize and bother him about something. His absence feels off to Zanka now. 

Zanka hasn’t spoken a single word about what happened in that hotel room and its aftermath to anyone, keeping it close to his chest like a dirty secret. One would think that having time away from Rudo after that incident would cause certain feelings to disappear. Zanka had been convinced for a brief time that he had actually gone mad from being inside that hotel. That his...crush was from some spell cast upon him, and he had imagined parts of Rudo’s behavior that had made him believe there was something there. 

But days later, after proper sleep and food and brain stimulation, he had the softer realization that no, what had happened was real and what he felt before and after was real. And that Rudo’s own decisions and actions and feelings were not a figment of his imagination, but actually... 

The scene in the car replays in his mind, of their eye contact in the sideview mirror and Rudo’s bashful, pink face, and it makes his stomach flip and warm up, much to his chagrin.  

It’s not as if he wasn’t affected by Rudo before. It’s only that he’s at the stage where he knows painfully well why he is. And it deals a blow to his pride, losing control over somebody like... 

Small nose scrunching in displeasure, magnetic red eyes glaring daggers into his. A pale sleeping face and long torso stretching out.  

Maybe it’s better not to see Rudo before the mission after all, he decides.  

There are objectively many more important things he should focus on instead. Like the mission. Like getting stronger.   

White hair and eyes flash in his mind.  

Zanka’s eyebrow twitches. The warm, gooey feeling inside him fades almost immediately, leaving him in a solemn mood.  

It is suddenly Guita, with all her extroversion and enthusiasm, who speaks to him, suddenly bringing him out of his thoughts. “We were just talking about the Doll Festival! I’m so jealous that you all get to go!”  

She exhales dramatically, drooping like a wilted flower in her seat. “Team Child has a mission off in a completely different ward so we can’t even swing by! It’s so unfair! I wanted to see the type of dolls they were going to show this year!” 

While Zanka doesn’t even know how to answer her, Riyo apparently does. She grins, her green eyes glinting mischievously. “Ooh, I know! We’ll bring you back some festival food. I heard they’re doing a special food crawl this year with whacky food combinations and other stuff they just make up.”  

Guita perks up right away. “You would do that for me? Oh, please! Pretty please!” 

Riyo winks at her. “You know I got you.”  

“Amo is excited for the doll show!” Amo speaks up, feeling encouraged by the other girls talking. “She wants to see all the different kinds of them!”  

“Oh, yeah, that’s right! It’s you and Rudo’s first Doll Festival!” Riyo leans forward towards Amo with an encouraging look. “Oh, man. You guys are gonna love it. There's literally so much stuff to do that you won’t even think about getting bored.”  

Amo beams at the redhead, utterly delighted. “Amo’s happy to spend more time with Rudo too! I wonder what he’s looking forward to the most.” 

Zanka continues to eat his food, subtly rolling his eyes. If only she knew. They have yet to tell Amo or Fu about what will really go down at the festival despite Arkha Corvus himself assigning them to the mission.  

Enjin speaks, contributing to the conversation. “I would say I’m looking forward to the craft beers and booze, but I’m thinking about cutting back a little.”  

Amo turns to him with a deep grimace on her delicate features, looking as though she’s wondering why he even spoke up. 

Meanwhile, Riyo raises a brow at him. “I somehow really doubt that.”  

“No, I’m serious!” he claims, before he adds quietly yet still obviously, “At least not there.” 

“I heard that!”  

“That I’m being serious? Of course you did!”  

“Ha! Anyways! What about you, Fu?” Riyo turns and looks at the mousy teen over Guita’s head, who flinches when his name is said.  

Fu glances at her for half a second before turning his eyes to the table and fidgeting, twiddling his fingers. “Oh! Um! Maybe walking around and doing stuff? Like the ga-games, I mean! If you want me to play any and win any prizes you want,” he says sheepishly, adding the last part much more clearly.   

“Hm~ sounds tempting! And Zanka?”  

“Seeing the vital instruments,” is all he offers and keeps on eating, not really wanting to be a part of the upbeat, friendly conversation.  

The rest of dinner time goes by in a lighthearted manner. The rest of the smaller teens still talk about the doll festival, with Riyo frankly doing a fantastic job on keeping its true purpose hidden behind casual talk while Zanka practically tunes out the conversation as he chews his food. 

The minute Zanka cleans off his plates and drops off his dishes at the washing station, he bids them all goodnight. When he gets out into the hallways, he looks in the direction of one of the halls that leads to a certain red-eyed cleaner’s room before shaking his head and going straight to his. He doesn’t stop until he gets there, ready to go to bed.  

When he unlocks the door and gets in, locking it again behind him, he takes a moment to look around his room, illuminated by the faint light of the night sky outside his window, before turning the wall switch on, making the tall lamp in the corner flood the room with soft yellow light.  

Zanka’s bedroom is devoid of the typical things that make a room belong to someone. There were no posters on the wall. No little trinkets or decor. There weren’t even many books or magazines or other usual things people had to pass the time.  

Instead, there’s a place to hold his Lovely Assistaff up for the night on the wall in the other corner of the room along with his uniform, pressed and ready for whatever mission he needs to go on. A dresser full of soft, comfortable clothes that he likes to wear whenever he’s not going anywhere or training. A low table and a cushion on the floor, where he likes to sit and work on his vital instrument if it needs care. A small chest that contains wood polish, tapes, blue wood stain, and other such things. Traditional tatami mats are expensive, and he didn’t have access to that kind of money anymore, but a regular woven straw mat worked just as well if just a little more fragile. It covers a large part of the floor, leaving only a few feet of the outer edges of the tiles uncovered.  

His bed is the biggest thing in the room. Flat, low to the floor and pushed back against the wall in the middle. It’s dressed in darker sheets and white linens, with two big pillows at the head of the bed. And beside it is a nightstand with sticks of incense and an incense holder in its drawer whenever he wants to relax.  

And then, on top of that nightstand is a small alarm clock and right next to it, in what almost clashes with the clean, tidy, and comfortable feel of the room, is that damned pot of fake flowers taking up most of the space. 

Zanka glares at the thing. 

He really shouldn’t have left it there. If anyone else were to come into his room, it would be one of the first things they would see.  

For everybody else in the world, the act of displaying a gift from someone else in their bedroom is normal, sometimes even expected. It's usually not a big deal. But for a person like Zanka, it very much is. Especially because he has it out in the open, right by the place he sleeps, just in his room for anyone to see. For anyone to look at and to know how much it means to him. It feels damning, like he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. It feels too intimate. 

But if that's the case, why’d you leave it out on display in your room anyway? A voice that suspiciously sounds like Enjin’s teasing whispers in his mind, even though the man probably doesn't even know he has the damn thing in his room. 

Zanka lingers on it, feeling the familiar pull of affection followed by embarrassment and annoyance and every other emotion before he turns his head away. He takes off his sandals in short, abrupt motions before going to his adjoining bathroom to get ready for sleep.  

Even the act of brushing his teeth doesn’t feel the same anymore after Canvas Town. Every time he looks in the mirror as he brings his toothbrush back and forth across his mouth, he remembers Rudo leaning in closer to grab his own, bleary red eyes blinking the sleep out of them as he puts slowly puts toothpaste over the bristles, taking care not to accidentally smear toothpaste on either of his gloves.  

Zanka grunts around his toothbrush, giving himself a scolding look in the mirror. He leans over and spits out into the sink, rinsing his toothbrush and the outside of his mouth before putting it away and turning off the bathroom light, going back to his bedroom.  

He gets ready for bed at a slow pace, winding himself down for the night.  

He goes to his dresser and takes off his haori and his choker, folding it and neatly placing both things on top of it. He then steps up to his nightstand and grabs the clock off it (valiantly ignoring the presence of the fake flowers), setting the alarm for the morning. He sets the clock down and sits on the bed for a moment, stretching out his neck, shoulders and back to ease any tension he might have carried throughout the day. He takes his time, breathing as he pulls every muscle before exhaling deeply through his nose when he’s done.  

He slowly gets up and heads for the light switch to quietly turn it off, leaving the room lit only by the night sky once more, and going back to his bed.  

He doesn’t waste time getting into it, the old mattress creaking as he lifts the covers and slides in. He turns to lay on his back, settling into the familiar softness and warm, smoky scent of his bedsheets. His pillow had been fluffed since the morning, and he nestles the back of his head into it with satisfaction as he closes his eyes, relaxing himself into it.  

It doesn’t take much for him to go to sleep after that. Usually.  

Zanka continues to breathe in and out slowly to lull himself, knowing he will fall asleep at any moment.  

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Memories and sensations fade in and out of Zanka’s mind.   

A thin calloused hand gripping and forcing his chin up, and a wooden blade slicing a wound in his neck.  

Pain emanating from his head and hot blood dripping down his face, sharp teeth digging into his bottom lip, yet still nothing compared to the anger boiling under his skin.  

The sinking of his stomach when a blank-eyed girl bluntly asks him, “What’s the point of it?” 

The weight of many incredulous stares as he picks up “the wrong object”.  

The dark haze over him breaking apart at the words “Don’t average guys surpass geniuses in the end?” said by a man who claims he doesn’t care about kids or strangers.  

Sharp poisoned claws digging into his leg and piercing his stomach, shrill laughter piercing his ears and grinning until tears bead in the corners of his eyes.  

Smiling softly as his hand grips a blanket tight in his fist.  

Fathomless red eyes staring at him silently before he erupts.  

A hesitant but grateful thank you before those same red eyes turn and walk away with determination, leaving him behind. 

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Zanka’s still lying in bed, now with his brows furrowed, and his mouth set in a frown, between sleep and wakefulness, flipping back and forth,  

He had started to overthink things, his mind conjuring images up left and right, and now he’s lost track of the time passing by, lost in a fugue state.  

With a huff, he adjusts himself, now feeling too hot underneath the sheets. He tries to keep his eyes closed in the hopes that it would help him, but it doesn’t work. His mind is restless. No matter what position he tries, he can’t calm down. Still, he moves his arms and legs, tosses and turns to the point where even breathing feels wrong, puffing air in and out of his lungs.  

With a sharp movement, unable to take anymore, he opens his eyes and sits up in his bed, propping himself up with his hands. He feels a layer of sweat under his arms and along his back as he inhales and exhales loudly in the quiet of the room. It's as if his mind clears in an instant, able to think straight as soon as he wakes up, and the sharp contrast with how he felt just moments ago is dizzying.  

He grunts, angrily throwing his blanket off him and swinging his legs over the bed’s edge. He leans his arms on his thighs and lowers his head to focus on simply breathing. He sits there for a few moments to try and regulate himself, but there’s little relief for the uneasiness his body has built up. 

“Damn it,” he breathes and clears his throat, feeling a sudden dryness that bothers him immensely. He brings a hand up to rub his throat and soothe it. But with every swallow it feels like something is blocking it.  

He needs water.  

He looks at the time on his alarm clock and lets out a frustrated huff, rubbing his face with his hands. It's past midnight already. He had really been lying in bed trapped inside his head for hours, accomplishing nothing but stressing himself out.  

He lingers in that before shaking his head and getting up from the bed, leaving it messy behind him. In the night-lit room, he can still see everything and without turning on any lights, he goes straight for his haori to put it on, ignoring his choker and leaving it there.  

He’s going to the mess hall to get a drink of water, maybe sit at one of the tables for a minute or two and then come back to his room to try and sleep again.  

I need to relax, he thinks as he puts on his shoes and grabs his room key. Once he gets out and locks the door behind him, he goes straight there, following the familiar path down the halls.  

In the middle of the night, headquarters is cast in a ghostly glow from the blue lights along the corners of the hallway floors, almost unsettling with how empty and silent it is. Zanka’s usually grateful for the rare quiet, but right now he wishes something could distract him from his thoughts.  

Regardless, he makes it to the mess hall, intent on following through with his little plan as quietly as possible to avoid waking anybody up.  

None of the lights are on when he creaks open one of the big doors and walks in, only the windows casting long light and shadows in the room. It is dead quiet.  

Just as Zanka is about to go to the kitchen to fetch himself a water, his eyes drift towards a corner and he freezes in place, his heart skipping a beat in surprise.  

Because there, sitting at one of the tables farther into the room with light shining right next to him and making him more visible, is Rudo.  

The younger teen has his back turned to him, facing the direction of the kitchen. Zanka observes a mess of wavy white, black-tipped hair curling slightly above the nape of a pale neck, and a pair of wiry shoulder blades hunched over the table. A gloved hand props up a round cheek as the younger teen leans against it, elbow on the table while the other arm is folded in front of him.  

His back moves up and down in slow, controlled breaths as he sits, completely silent in the darkened mess hall.  

Zanka stares at the other, stunned.  

Talk about distraction. He marvels at the timing of Rudo’s appearance while simultaneously becoming embarrassed by his thoughts. The other had been gone from his sight for days and only shows up when Zanka is not having the best moment. 

As usual, Zanka concludes wryly, his lips pursing.  

However, Rudo still hasn't turned around. The only indication that he was present being the rise and fall of his chest.  

Zanka narrows his eyes, wondering why Rudo’s even here in the mess hall to begin with. It's not surprising to see him up late, but the way he was moving and how he barely responded to Zanka coming in... is he sleeping? Here? 

Thinking it unlikely, Zanka slowly walks closer to Rudo. Just to check if he really fell asleep in the mess hall of all places. But when he comes around to face the younger, he stops, eyes widening slightly when he finds that Rudo is awake. He sits there, staring out into space with his own glass of water in front of him.  

He doesn’t notice Zanka at all, with his gaze fixed on something that isn’t there. Clearly lost in his thoughts.  

Like Zanka, he’s still in his own sleep clothes, the same clothes that he wore the day they met. The same long baggy pants with the grey circular markings showing his connection to the Sphere, and that thin white tank that exposes the scrawniness of his arms. And of course, his hands. The bandages branch out from beneath the safety of his gloves, crawling up to the middle of his forearm.  

The sight strikes Zanka over the head with how somber it looks. It’s his first time seeing Rudo properly in a matter of days, and he certainly didn’t expect it to be like this. In the middle of the night, with him unable to sleep and Rudo being already alone and melancholy in the dimly lit room. Exposed, unguarded.  

Zanka focuses on the dark circles under Rudo’s eyes and the downward turn of his lips.  

He breaks the silence.  

“Looks like your plan to go to bed early didn’t work out.”  

He tries to speak evenly, but even he can’t hide his fatigue, and his shoulders slump when he hears it plainly in his voice.  

And how tired does Rudo feel when he doesn’t startle at Zanka’s unexpected presence in front of him but instead turns hazy red eyes towards him and simply stares?  

A sigh threatens to escape him at the sight and there he knows that neither of them are going to sleep well tonight no matter how hard they try. “I’m gonna get my own glass of water. Stay there.”  

He doesn’t wait for Rudo to reply. He shuffles into the kitchen and grabs a glass from one of the cupboards and begins to think as he fills it up with water in the sink.  

He had thought before that it would be better not to see Rudo until they went off to the mission, where they would just lock in and focus on their task and not think about anything else. But he’s surprisingly calm upon seeing the other right now. More settled than he thought he would be. He attributes it to the fact that they’re both tired and unexpectedly meeting in the middle of the night.  

When the glass is filled, he goes back to sit at the table. Rudo is waiting, still in the same position he was before, but this time, he looks at Zanka lazily as he walks right across from him, eyes tracking his movement as Zanka sits down. Even while fatigued, Rudo’s eyes are intense, taking on a slightly darker hue. The lack of light makes everything seem grayer, sucking out the color from the room. It almost suits Rudo, who’s already harsh, sharp edges and monochromatic black-and-white. But there is a slight fuzz in the air, dust, that softens him despite it.  

Zanka takes a long drag of water and sets it down with a soft thud onto the table.  

“I can take a good guess why you’re here,” Zanka begins, voice sounding like a low hum, meeting Rudo’s eyes with a half-lidded stare.  

Rudo gazes at him for a moment, eyes flickering across Zanka’s face for a few seconds before he shrugs, lids closing and opening slowly. He mumbles into the gloved heel of his palm. “I’m thinking.”  

Zanka huffs, not surprised by the lackluster reply. “Clearly.” 

“About...”  

“It’s pretty obvious.” 

Rudo frowns. “Don’t be an ass.”  

“Then just talk. Like a normal person.”  

The two of them stay there for a moment. And then Rudo’s face slackens, letting out a puff of air through his nose.  

Zanka observes as he takes his face away from the hand holding it up and grabs the glass, bringing it up to his mouth and slowly tipping it back to take a sip before putting it back down.  

When he pulls his hand back, he brings it to his neck, cradling it. It's only then that Zanka realizes that there is no choker around his neck.  

And from there, their conversation flows like an unpolluted river without the pressure of censoring themselves. 

“You already know I have a sleeping problem,” Rudo begins. 

“I’m well aware,” Zanka replies dryly.  

“It just gets worse on nights like this. Before we have to go on a big mission,” Rudo explains rather despondently. “The last time I stayed up, even later than this, Riyo got into my room through the window to see what was up. Since her room is right above mine.” 

“Sounds like something she would do,” Zanka drones, easily imagining Riyo popping up in Rudo’s room and scaring the shit out of him.  

Rudo’s other hand starts tracing the small scratches atop the table. “I came here so I wouldn’t wake anybody up with my bullshit, I guess. I had been making too much noise last time, and I don't want to bother my neighbors.” 

“And the water?” Zanka glances at the glass in front of Rudo, still mostly full.  

“I thought it would help,” Rudo tells him, shrugging. “I don’t know. Something sweet would have been nice, but the sweets cabinet is locked,” his face twists in annoyance.  

“Of course, they would lock it after you went crazy and ate everything last time. You're a sugar addict,” Zanka scolds.  

Rudo shoots him a glare. “I wouldn’t have done that this time.”  

“Yeah, right.”  

Rudo opens his mouth to defend himself more and hesitates. The mood turns in the other direction suddenly, and the air around Rudo becomes heavier. Zanka waits patiently as Rudo thinks.  

“The last time was the night before we had to go to Penta. Before—” Rudo stops himself short, a shadow of guilt twisting his face.  

Zanka could see where he’s going with this and grimaces, exasperated. “We won’t know what’s going to go down this time. You're winding yourself up over what could be nothing.” r what could be nothing.”  

“I know.” Rudo snaps, before taking a breath and calming himself down when Zanka gives him a warning glare.  

“I know. I’m just freaking out too much,” Rudo says lamely. He then shoots Zanka a childish scowl. “And don’t tell me not to.”  

“I wasn’t even thinking about it, dumbass,” Zanka responds, automatically adding the insult. This is familiar territory, their back and forth. And then, without thinking about it, he says, “We already had that late-night conversation anyway.”  

He and Rudo pause when he says that, with the latter’s eyes widening. There is a faint tightening of his stomach when Rudo’s gaze flicks down to the table yet again, his hand smoothing against his neck in what appears to be a nervous gesture.  

“I-I know that too,” Rudo acknowledges what Zanka is referring to. His voice cracks just the tiniest bit. He frowns, ducking his head down.  

Zanka suddenly looks away, pressing his lips together as he turns his head to view the outside from the window. The sight of the dirt walls surrounding their base is now suddenly an interesting one. He grabs his glass and drinks a bit more water.  

“Just relax for a while then. And drinking your water will help you if you actually do it,” Zanka tells him.   

Rudo nods wordlessly but doesn’t move to take a sip. 

They spend what feels like a good minute in their little bubbles.  

A little uptick in breath comes from Rudo, the sound clear in the quiet of the room, before he speaks again.  

Hesitant but sounding even more curious, Rudo asks him, “What about you?” 

Zanka slowly turns back to him and finds that Rudo has uncurled himself from his embarrassed stance. His brows are still furrowed, and his hand is still on his neck. But despite his clear bashfulness, he bravely meets Zanka’s eyes.  

Zanka sets down his water and rests his arm on the table.  

“What about me?” Zanka prompts, pretending not to know what the other is asking.  

Rudo’s eyes, now more open and alert, narrow. “It’s almost one in the morning. And you’re awake. You're off your routine. Are you...okay?” He asks clumsily.  

“I’m fine,” Zanka replies. He keeps his tone light, casual, and unrevealing. “Just one of those nights.”  

Rudo doesn’t believe him so easily. His eyes trail over Zanka’s face. “You don’t seem worried about the festival. Did something happen on another mission? Or something else?” 

He stumbles through all his questions like a colt learning how to walk, awkward but determined.  

He’s trying to dig, Zanka realizes, his face slackening in surprise. There is only confusion in Rudo’s voice. He doesn’t sound demanding. His little interrogation is more of a small nudge if anything.  

But instead of opening and going along with Rudo’s attempts to have a conversation, it’s like something twists in his stomach, curdling into something sour.  

His jaw tightens.  

Rudo sees the change immediately, and the emotion in his eyes turns to shock as he stiffens.   

“No.” Zanka utters, his voice curt. “Nothing happened. It’s...”  

He trails off, unable to say it. His throat closes and he resists the urge to take a sip of water.  

Rudo asks, very reluctantly, as if afraid that he’s pushing too much already. “Is it...like before?” 

Only the two of them could possibly know what he was talking about. Zanka’s hand on top of the table clenches into a fist, and Rudo catches it just like he did back then, in the infirmary. And suddenly understanding dawns on his face.  

Zanka thinks of the best way he could say it. His first instinct is to tell Rudo off. That it has nothing to do with Rudo, that it’s none of his business, that he doesn’t need to know. A part of him respects that Rudo had made a small leap here, trying to talk to him in a mature way, but another part of him is angry. He’s almost infuriated at the other for trying to pry into something that he has no idea of how deep it goes, how far back. Something that a couple of people who he thought were only going to be strangers know. Something that contains some of the darkest, most vulnerable parts of himself that even he can’t stand to sit with for too long. 

But he forces it down before it can manifest into something greater, before he gets too defensive. He turns his gaze to the table, taking a breath in and out through his nose, and Rudo shows a rare moment of restraint. He doesn’t question or prod as Zanka does all this. While strained, he simply watches silently, waiting for Zanka to continue.  

And that sobers Zanka quicker than Riyo whipping out her scissors in front of a trash beast. 

Ultimately, it’s his own lack of strength that’s the problem. And he doesn’t want to talk about it, not with anybody. Not anymore than he already has in his years since he left everything he knew behind. Not with Enjin, not Riyo. Not with Rudo, even though the other teen has opened so much more to him than anyone ever has. The only one who can solve it is himself. He just needs to get stronger, is all. That’s it. Just one hurdle.   

He takes a deep breath and looks at Rudo square in his eyes.  

“I’ll handle it.” He says, putting all the certainty and reassurance he could into it, as if he was saying it to himself.  

Because he does mean it. He’ll rise above it and come out on top, just like he’s done before. He can do it again. Not only because he wants to, but because he needs to.  

“I got this.”  

Rudo stays where he was, tense, almost apprehensive. His eyes were wide, blazing red as he had waited for Zanka’s answer.  

And then his shoulders relax and gloved hand at his neck slides down a little, body and face slackening. He looks Zanka in the eye as he nods slowly at Zanka’s conviction, not a sign of protest on his face. He accepts Zanka’s words at face value, without a trace of doubt.  

“Okay.” 

And for the both of them, that’s enough. 

Zanka’s jaw loosens up and he sits back in his chair, letting out a sigh.  

Rudo sits there, hand letting go of his neck and setting his arm down on top of the table. He then sits up straighter, adjusting in his seat and overlapping his hands one over the other.  

There's a moment of what feels like peace between the two of them, just sitting in front of the other person. And then the atmosphere turns into something charged and awkward once they realize just how much they were looking at each other.  

Rudo looks away hastily, almost jolting in his seat, as if he was hit by lightning. Which prompts Zanka to take a sip of his water, shifting his own gaze away.  

So, he goes into another subject.  

He puts his glass down again and forces himself to face the other again. “So, what was your plan tonight anyway? You come here, drink water and then try to go back to sleep?”  

And Rudo happily takes the bait after startling, and shrugs.  

“That or just lie down in my bed and stare at the ceiling,” he tells Zanka honestly, probably not meaning to sound so pathetic.  

Literally Zanka’s plan verbatim. Honestly, Zanka would already be sleeping right now if Rudo hadn’t been in the mess hall before he got here.  

“So, there’s literally nothing that can help you sleep. Not even pills?”  

Rudo gives him a small sneer. “I’m not an idiot. That’s one of the first things I tried when I got to the Ground. That and pain killers. They don’t do jack shit for me but make me drowsy. I remember because you got on my ass during training one of the days after I took some.”  

Zanka remembers it. That had been really early in their training. He had thought the other was just slacking off. He huffs and frowns, slightly pissed that Rudo let him make that assumption. “What the hell? Why didn’t you say that’s what happened then?”  

“You would have just told me off for taking them without considering the side effects!” Rudo exclaims quietly. Then he continues, irritated, “You would have yelled at me no matter what I did.” 

“Yeah. But at least I would have yelled at you for something you did, not for something I thought you were doing. You made me look like an asshole,” Zanka complains.  

“I don’t need to do anything to make you look like an asshole, you already do that by yourself,” Rudo rebuffs. “Everybody already says you’re moody as hell.”  

Zanka scoffs. “No, they don’t.”  

Rudo gives him an incredulous stare. “Yes, they do.”  

“Name someone who said that.”  

Rudo’s answer comes right away. “Enjin.”  

Zanka’s jaw drops before he snaps it back into place just as quickly. But Rudo already notices his shock, and an ugly, smug expression forms on his face.  

“You’re lying,” Zanka accuses.  

“He says it all the time. That you’re grouchy and that you have a huge stick up your ass,” Rudo says, keeping his smugness.   

“I know he wouldn’t say the last part. That’s all you,” Zanka glowers.  

“He doesn’t need to say it for me to hear it. Also, Riyo says you’re moody to your face all the time. Why are you even surprised?”  

Zanka shoots him a look. “Because she’s Riyo. She teases everyone all the time. And sometimes she’s just out of pocket.” 

“But she keeps it real,” Rudo says, defending her suddenly.   

Zanka rolls his eyes. “In her own way, I suppose. But she’s nosy. And I know she sneaks around trying to eavesdrop on people and get the drop on them.”  

He’s never actually caught her in the act himself, but he knows she does it. He can feel eyes on him from the corners of the hallways sometimes, and it wasn’t Shikage’s surveillance, that’s for sure.  

“The fact that she climbed through your window in the middle of the night just proves that.” He adds.  

Rudo makes a noncommittal noise. “I guess you’re right. But I don’t mind it. And about her getting into my room that time, it kind of helped me after she did that.”  

Zanka raises a brow, finding that strange. “How did her intruding on your space without warning help you?” 

Rudo opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He closes his mouth, pressing his lips together.  

Zanka is taken aback, brows scrunching in judgement. “What the hell is that reaction? What did she even do?” 

“She didn’t really do anything. It’s weird. I shouldn’t have said anything, forget it.” Rudo nervously tries to wave it off.  

But now Zanka’s too intrigued, morbidly curious even over the way Rudo is acting. “Weird how?” 

Rudo fidgets with his hands on the table. “Just. Weird. Like it’s stupid and sad.”  

Zanka can’t help himself upon hearing his choice of words.  

“Story of your life,” he jabs. 

To which Rudo snaps his head back to him, looking betrayed and ready to pop a vein. 

“I’m not telling you shit then!” the younger teen screeches, voice pitching high and cracking in sheer disbelief, his voice echoing in the room.  

Zanka hisses quietly, warning him to lower his volume. “You’re going to wake up all of headquarters, idiot!”  

“Then don’t insult me!”  

“You’re so sensitive—I’m sorry, okay?” Zanka switches up mid-sentence, seeing Rudo gearing up to yell again. “It just came out.” 

As if you wouldn’t do the same, he thinks to himself immaturely.   

Rudo crosses his arms across his chest with a huff. He doesn’t speak as he glares at Zanka. 

“I won’t.” Zanka repeats, resisting the urge to pull a face in response.  

Rudo stubbornly stays where he is for a good minute before giving in and slumping. He uncrosses his arms and lays them back on the table. He's still scowling, but it’s less intense.  

“When Riyo came into my room I was still in the bathroom. I decided to wash my gloves since they needed to be cleaned. But when I came out, she was lying on my bed,” Rudo says, sounding embarrassed as he recounted the story.   

Zanka frowns, feeling an unexpected but just as unpleasant spike in his chest. Rudo notices his mood shift.  

“She left pretty much right away. I didn’t lay in bed with her like—,” Rudo adds quickly, leaning forward and shooting Zanka an almost pleading look before cutting himself off, flustering them both. Zanka feels a heat travel up his neck when Rudo jerks back with a mortified expression. The younger scrambles to continue as Zanka watches, wide-eyed.  

“S-so we talked a little bit and when she left, I laid down in bed. But I guess she had been on it for a while because it was still kind of warm, and some of her scent lingered?” Rudo tries to explain with a pink face. “It was weirdly comforting and I ended up dozing for a while before I couldn’t sleep again. That's how she ‘helped’ I guess.”  

“That’s...” He doesn't know what to say yet. He’s interested in what Rudo just said, but he’s also stuck on Rudo’s very visible nervousness around him.  

Rudo eyes zero in on his water and picks it up to chug it down.  

Zanka looks blankly, seeing the other’s throat bob as he finishes the cup in one shot. Rudo exhales roughly when he’s done and puts the glass down with an empty thunk! If he was less careful, it might have chipped the glass. 

“So, yeah. That’s what happened,” Rudo says, suddenly calmer, as if the water had cooled him down some.  

“Huh.” Zanka intones. “Interesting.”  

From the sound of it, it’s like having somebody nearby helps Rudo relax. Or maybe just the body heat? Rudo must be the type to run cold if he mentioned how Riyo had left some warmth behind on his bed when she left.  

Zanka himself runs hot when he tries to go to sleep.  

A memory from their last night in the hotel comes to mind. Rudo’s hand and knee pressed against his person and then later in the morning, Rudo sleeping soundly even when Zanka had gotten up right next to him and the choker around his wrist was ringing loudly in the room. And Zanka promptly bites his tongue before he could just blurt out the thought that pops into his mind.  

He gives a little jerk from the sting and Rudo looks at him strangely. “What?”  

Zanka, as calmly as he can, grabs his water and takes a few gulps of it. The cup had been halfway empty already, and he almost downs the entire thing trying to wash away the taste of blood from his mouth. But the wound is still sluggishly bleeding when he sets the glass down, only an inch or so of water left.  

He grimaces at the taste. “Nothing.”  

Rudo squints, his brows creasing. If questions marks could materialize in the air, they would be multiple above the spherite’s head.  

“Sounds like you’d benefit from a heating pad or a weighted blanket,” Zanka informs him, ignoring the other’s confusion.  

Rudo tilts his head, weighing the knowledge in his mind. “Do we even have those here?”  

“Not that I know of. You should just get them to keep for yourself anyway, the next time you go into town.”  

“Do you think that people would throw them out?” Rudo questions, a shine in his eyes. Zanka can tell he’s already thinking of finding someone’s leftovers in some junkyard he comes across in the future.  

Zanka pulls a face. “I really don’t recommend reusing someone else’s dirty blanket.”  

“I wash and sanitize everything before even bringing it inside base,” Rudo protests. “And I can sew up holes in fabric too.”  

Zanka shudders. “That’s not it. Cloth carries more in it than anything else in my opinion. It just feels creepy, especially if it sits in a pile of garbage for who knows how long. It would absorb everything. Scents, touches, history.”  

“I’m the one who plans to use it, not you,” Rudo points out. “And it’s better when something’s been treasured before.”  

Right. Makes sense he’d see it that way. Zanka’s not prone to forgetting Rudo’s values and how it translates to everything he does. While he and the other cleaners chose to fixate on their own possessions, Rudo sees the value in almost everything discarded, thrown out and abandoned. He can take something beat up, broken or given up on and simply decide to do something with it, making it into something valuable again.  

While there’s good use for it, being able to use any kind of object and make it into a vital instrument, Zanka can’t fully understand it. He even wonders if it’s truly sustainable at times. What kind of mind is it that can see great value in the smallest, most insignificant things in a world and treat them with more care than necessary?  

Rudo keeps talking, having no idea about what Zanka is thinking. “And if I use it long enough, then it becomes mine too. My scent, touches and history would go into it, right?”  

Zanka lets out a disagreeing hum. “Sure. But I prefer to have something that’s only been mine.” 

“What about your stick?” Rudo asks suddenly.  

Zanka pauses. And then he blinks. “My Lovely Assistaff?”  

“Yeah. Was it always yours or was it someone else’s before?” 

The question is so simple, but it throws Zanka for a loop. “I don’t... it wasn’t someone else’s per se.”  

His words come out slowly. The memory of obtaining his vital instrument, while an important turning point in his life, is still a painful one.  

“Ah.” Rudo immediately picks up on it and backtracks, wide-eyed. “I’m sorry.”  

Zanka shakes his head, his earrings swaying. “No, it’s fine.”  

Getting over the initial shock, Rudo’s question happens to be food for thought. The first thing he had thought about his Lovely Assistaff had been how worn and ugly it had looked, especially on top of that table with sharp and polished weapons right beside it.  

Very used. A simple, common tool for holding down criminals that had just been there by chance. Who knows how many Hell Guard had handled it before it landed on that table by accident.  

And then he had picked it up, and it became his. He had fixed it up, smoothed it, painted it, and wrapped it. Zanka had taken something that was supposed to be gotten rid of and made it into something of value. Like Rudo does. It's almost funny how he had never framed it that way until now.  

But therein also lies the difference. That Lovely Assistaff’s first and only true owner is Zanka. Rudo may pick up a piece of trash that may have been someone’s most precious thing, sure, but Lovely Assistaff was only ever meant to be a tool. Zanka is the only person who ever put his name onto it and made it more than what it was initially supposed to be.  

As if it was meant to be from the start. 

And the thought emboldens Zanka, who tells Rudo, “Lovely Assistaff has only ever been mine. Never really belonged to anyone else.”  

And Rudo relaxes, looking relieved not to have committed a faux pas. “Oh.” 

Zanka’s eyes flick to Rudo’s gloves. “Enjin had mentioned your gloves were passed down. But it’s still a mystery of how they ended up in the Sphere in the first place, right?” 

Rudo dips his head and spreads his fingers out on the table as if to display them, the Watchmen series logo visible in the light of the night sky.  

“Yeah,” he utters softly.  

Zanka can tell that he’s becoming lost in thought again. So, he adds, “We’re bound to figure that out sooner or later anyways. At the rate you’re going, probably sooner.”  

Rudo comes out of his head and perks up. “You really think so?” 

“Yeah, why not? You've been crashing and bulldozing your way through pretty much everything else. Like this whole Doll Festival and white crow thing. Finding that out should be a piece of cake,” Zanka gives him a wry smirk.  

Rudo face shifts, now eyeing Zanka suspiciously. “Is that an insult or a compliment?”  

Zanka only answers by picking up his glass again and taking the last few sips of his water, finishing it off.  

He hears Rudo scoff. “And you think you’re not an asshole.”   

His lips detach from the rim of the glass as he swallows the last drops. “I just call it like I see it. If you can’t handle it...” he leaves the rest of the sentence to the other’s imagination. 

“You’re such a dick.” 

He sets the glass down again, now all empty. 

Both he and Rudo notice the emptiness of both their cups and take a second.  

And it hits Zanka that it’s the perfect cue to get up and go back to bed like he had planned. He’s drunk his cup of water, and he doesn’t feel as bad anymore. Surely, when he goes back to his room, he’ll be able to sleep well enough until the alarm hits in the morning. 

He hesitates. 

He...doesn’t want to leave. He's surprised at how comfortable he is right now, actually. There’s no sense of urgency to get back to the routine or to jump out of his chair and scurry away.  

He's been enjoying this. Even in the moments of awkwardness and accidentally stepping over each other’s toes, Zanka hasn’t felt out of place or uneasy in Rudo’s presence. The complete opposite, as a matter of fact.  

He starts to grip the fabric of his sleep clothes, away from Rudo’s view as a warmth spreads across his chest.  

And he can tell that Rudo is thinking the same, as neither of them say anything yet, content to just let the time pass by. Rudo begins to languidly trace the scratches of the table again, and Zanka watches the gloved fingers move back and forth over the small indents in the table’s surface as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.  

But then Zanka lets out a small yawn, which he hides under the back of his hand. Rudo pauses, looking back at him.  

Zanka is the first to break the silence, albeit reluctantly as his yawn dissipates. “I think it's time I go to bed then.”  

Rudo visibly wavers, and a twinge of remorse runs through Zanka before he stamps it out. “You are?” 

“I have my alarm set up in my room already. And I’m getting sleepy anyhow.” Despite saying that, he doesn’t stand up right away.  

He stays seated until Rudo responds.  

And Rudo does, emitting a simple “Oh,” sounding outright disappointed. And then his lips push out before it grows into a full-fledged pout, clearly unhappy with the thought of Zanka leaving. 

Zanka’s stomach flips and his neck starts to heat up under his collar once again.  

He had noticed it before but, what the hell? Rudo is so unsubtle. He had known that his feelings were reciprocated, but the other is making them increasingly obvious with every minute they spend together. Or is it that Rudo was just as obvious before, and Zanka just sees it clearly now because of his own realizations?   

His ears start to feel hot.  

Rudo presses his lips together and puts his hands on his lap as he leans back straight. His arms move slightly, like he’s fiddling with his gloves. He takes a breath in and out and opens his mouth, his red eyes looking straight at Zanka. “...Could you stay with me? Just for a little longer?” 

Zanka is struck dumb, completely surprised at the bold request. His jaw drops ever so slightly and hangs there for just a few seconds, gawking at Rudo.  

This makes Rudo’s face pinken, and he frowns, jerking his head down a little to hide beneath his bangs. He leaves his head tilted enough for Zanka to still have a view of his face.  

“Just...” he peters off, quickly getting embarrassed and losing his nerve.  

“And do what?” Zanka questions, his own voice coming out blunter than he intended it to be in his sudden shock. He doesn’t know whether to bang his head against the table or not. 

Rudo reddens even more, visibly getting frustrated. “I don’t know. Talk more. About stuff. Or we could just sit.”  

Zanka lays a hand on the side of his neck to transfer some of the warmth traveling to his face to his cooler palm. His heart is starting to beat a little too fast in his chest. 

“I think it might be better if we try to rest as long as we can,” he begins slowly, trying to go for the cooler, more mature thing to do. “We have an important day tomorrow and we’ll need it.”  

And they really should go back to their own rooms, really. The mission is tomorrow and if they hold it off on sleep, they’ll be screwing themselves over. He's suggesting it now, pulling back before they get carried away and stay in the mess hall all night. He's sure there’s a part of Rudo that knows that too.   

Only, Rudo’s face gets even redder. His voice comes out small as he tries not to raise his shoulders to his ears. “I won’t be able to sleep much tonight. So, I just want to stay with you instead. I haven't forgotten about your routine either. If it’s just five minutes, then that’s enough for me. It'll help me.” 

Rudo’s timid honesty renders the two of them speechless.  

Zanka blanks out. “Oh.”  

His mind repeats the words “I just want to stay with you instead” over and over again.  

Is this...? What he thinks it is?  

He feels blood rapidly flowing to his face, the hand that was cradling his neck now warm to the touch, as his mind and heart start to race.  

With his choice of words and Rudo’s red face, it’s not hard to assume something is happening. A sweat starts to break out from underneath his clothes. A wave of heat tingles across his skin at the remote possibility of Rudo’s words being a sort of confession.  

No, it can’t be. Not right now at this very moment. 

His brain over-analyzes Rudo’s sentences and finds exactly what he’s looking for to prove otherwise.  

The use of the word “instead.” Rudo would instead want to be with Zanka than go to his room and struggle to sleep. Yeah, anyone would do that. Rudo must want the distraction from his thoughts, just as Zanka did when he first came into the mess hall and saw Rudo sitting at one of the tables.  

Yes, he thinks desperately. That makes much more sense.  

As if Rudo would do something as horrible and ill-thought as confessing the night before an important mission. Even with his horrid social skills, his timing wouldn’t be that bad. And Rudo wouldn’t say it so casually in the middle of conversation anyway. He’s the type of person to take it seriously and say it’s important to confess properly if anything.  

And then Zanka realizes that he’s anticipating it at some point, and heat flares once again, internally humiliated at getting caught up in his imagination.  

By the time his face starts cooling down, Zanka is starting to feel truly tired. As much as he doesn’t mind staying and talking some more, he can't shake off a sense of responsibility. He wants to tell Rudo they should just go to sleep now, focus and get the rest they need. Even if the other just lies on his bed, getting some rest would be beneficial.  

But then Rudo notices the amount of time he’s taking to answer and his shoulder slump. His eyes narrow into slits and his flush starts to turn into something more shameful. 

“If you don’t want to, you can just say so,” Rudo mutters, brows creasing, already thinking that Zanka is rejecting his request.  

It’s as if a form of softness is slowly leaving him, which is not what Zanka wants to see. 

With no time left to spare, Zanka thinks quickly.  

It’s not like Rudo had asked him to stay with him in the mess hall for the whole night. Only five more minutes if that’s all Zanka can give.  

Only five minutes. He...can do that. Right? It's not a big deal.  

In a move that’s completely and utterly indulgent, Zanka stays where he is. He clears his throat before speaking lest his voice cracks.  

“Okay. I’ll stay. Only five more minutes.”  

Rudo stays where he is for a moment before Zanka’s answer registers in his mind. His face opens wide, his eyes blinking and brows slackening from their scowl. He lifts his head up from his hunched position, back straightening, red eyes meeting blue. Remnants of his flush stay on his pale cheeks.  

“You will?”  

If he had a tail and ears they would be standing up straight. 

Zanka wills his face to not move an inch. “If you say it’ll help, then I don’t mind. But after that, let’s just go to our rooms and sleep. If you can anyway.” 

Rudo stares at him, open-mouthed before pressing his lips together and nodding, a shine of contentment in his eyes now. “Yeah, that sounds good. It’s a deal.”  

The ghost of a smile begins to form on Zanka’s lips, but he forces it down to cough into a fist, closing his eyes for a second before composing himself. “So.”  

Rudo brings his arms up and crosses them over the table, leaning on them as he looks at Zanka expectantly.   

“Did you want to talk about anything else in particular?” 

Rudo breathes in some air, about to speak when he pauses and ponders this, rubbing his upper arm with one of his gloves. “Uh...”  

He doesn’t have a clue... Zanka thinks dryly.  

Rudo stays thinking for a few moments, and it’s increasingly clear that nothing is coming to his mind before he simply gives up.  

“I don’t know. There’s a bunch of things I could ask you about, but...” 

Zanka tilts his head ever so slightly. His earrings sway with the movement. “But what?” 

“I can’t think of anything.” Rudo looks extremely put off by his sudden lack of brain power, completely baffled, and Zanka lets out a noise between an exhale and a laugh.  

Rudo’s nose wrinkles at his amusement, eyes narrowing.  

Zanka’s face settles back into a relaxed, neutral expression. “Talking when someone else puts you on the spot always makes everything in your head disappear. For most people anyway.” 

Rudo picks up on what’s in between the lines. “So, you’re saying you don’t do that,” he deadpans.  

“Sure, I have. Just not in a long time.” Zanka admits. “Being someone raised in nobility has its perks sometimes. Public speaking is a skill that can be learned and perfected.”   

Rudo blinks at that, crooking his head. “Oh, yeah. That's right. I always forget that Enjin said you were some kind of rich kid before.” 

Zanka’s mouth twists and he tries not to sound bitter when he speaks. “Bit of an understatement, but yeah. I was a rich kid.”  

There’s a look in Rudo’s eyes that screams curiosity, but for some inexplicable reason, he simply moves on, as if storing the information away for later.  

Rudo then sort of stares off at some point past Zanka. “I want to be able to speak well too.” Rudo says, almost absentminded as he expresses this. Like he’s suddenly thinking of something else entirely.   

Zanka raises a brow, wondering exactly what it is. But he knows that Rudo wants to be able to communicate well with people better, so. “Maybe one day you will. It's not like you’re totally helpless at it anymore. If you keep practicing, you’ll become decent. Not an expert, but decent.” 

Rudo takes a moment before he hums firmly, eyes flickering with some kind of resolve. “Yeah.”  

His eyes dart towards Zanka before he uncrosses one of his arms and props his head up with his hand, back to original position Zanka found him in, and looks out the window. 

And whatever lingering blush Rudo had on his face before, that had faded, comes back a little stronger. “So... Since I don’t know what to say. I guess we’ll just sit here together without talking then. If that’s okay.”  

Zanka takes a while to respond. “For three more minutes at least.”  

For a guy with no experience in talking to others properly, he really knows how to strike people in the heart with sincerity. 

And so, they spend the next three minutes or so sitting there in silence, the seconds smoothly passing by. Zanka leans back in his chair with his eyes closed while Rudo loosens in his position, shoulders low and cheek pressing against his hand as he continues to stare out the window.  

When it’s time, Zanka doesn't announce it. He simply gets up from his chair and motions to grab the two empty glasses to put them in the dishwasher. 

“I’ll do that,” Rudo stops him before he could touch them, his eyes now directed towards him. 

Zanka pulls his hands back. “You sure?” 

“Yeah. As thanks for staying with me for a little longer.”  

Zanka huffs. “There’s no need to thank me for something so small.” 

But he leaves the glasses where they are, for Rudo to take care of them. 

“Don't spend too long here. Go back to your room soon,” he tells the other firmly.  

Rudo gives him a hum, not fighting him on it for once. “I will. We made a deal, remember?” 

“Damn right.” 

He then walks away, going around the table towards the door. feeling proper sleepiness slowly hitting him. 

He pauses for only a second when he’s right by Rudo for a second, thinking of patting the other on the head before thinking better of it. It would just make him linger more.  

“Good night,” he says instead, sweeping past the other, his sandals clacking against the floor.  

“...good night, Zanka.”  

The words are as earnest as Rudo can be, and it leaves Zanka with a tingly pleasantness running down his spine as he continues. The urge to grin suddenly seizes him, and his lips tremble before he forces it down.   

Be cool until you leave, be cool until you leave.  

The mantra helps, stilling his emotions as he reaches the door.  

And then a rough exhale can be heard behind him.  

“Zanka.”   

Rudo calls out to him before he can leave the room.  

Zanka stops. He lets out a sigh that releases the tension in his body that can be easily misinterpreted as exasperation. But of course, this would happen. With Rudo, it’s like their conversations never finish. Like chapters in a book, you complete one and there’s still another to be read.  

He turns his head to look over his shoulder. “What is it?” 

Rudo has turned himself around in his seat. Torso turned in Zanka’s direction. His eyes wide and focused, and his hands are clenching each other in a tight grip in his lap, his gloves wrinkling under the force.  

“I...” 

His hesitation makes Zanka’s turn himself around in place, a puzzled frown on his face. A sense of anticipation comes to him slowly at the look on Rudo’s face.  

“What is it?” He prompts again patiently, not wanting the other to drag it out.  

Rudo swallows, his face turning pink as he fidgets with his gloves. He appears to lose some of his bravery and looks down at his lap. But this allows him to have some semblance of confidence left.  

“There was something that I wanted to talk to you about before. But when I thought about it, I knew it wasn’t a good time to bring it up. Especially tonight. Even though it’s important to me and I... really, really want to tell you.”  

Zanka’s eyes widen at Rudo’s candor. He’s completely stunned at the other’s directness.  

This...wasn’t like before, when Zanka made the mistake of thinking Rudo was confessing. The wording itself as well as Rudo’s reaction makes it alarmingly clear this time, what he wants to speak about.  

Zanka’s stomach twists and turns while a prickly, tingly heat creeps underneath his clothes. It spreads, searing hot to his neck, face, and ears. 

Rudo continues, not noticing Zanka’s reaction yet. “I had been thinking about it for a while. Especially after the whole thing in Canvas Town and the hotel.” Rudo’s lashes tremble as breathes in and out through his nose to steady himself, his blush deepening.  

“I guess I’m still not sure what I want to say, even though I know how I feel. But I want to say it anyway.”  

What he feels... 

Zanka face shifts uncontrollably as the heat starts to become unbearable.  

Because it’s for real this time, what Rudo is saying. It is ten times more intense, and not at all easy to hide. He knows that if Rudo were to look at him now, he would see everything. 

“It involves you, so. If we have time after the Doll Festival... can we talk some more?”  

And it’s at that unfortunate, damning moment when Rudo glances up from his lap. 

He sees the look on Zanka’s face, and his serious expression melts away into astonishment as his jaw drops. 

His mouth closes and opens, taking in the sight of Zanka flustered and red. “You...” 

“That’s—” Zanka screws himself over by attempting to speak, stuttering instead. “Tha-That’s—” 

Zanka clamps his mouth shut. He yanks his head away, averting his gaze, unable to take the sudden humiliation of it all. “Fuck.” 

The quiet exclamation rings loudly in the empty room, and the blush on Rudo’s face increases.  

“You-you—!” 

Zanka holds up a hand to get him to stop and Rudo does, his teeth clacking together as he shuts his mouth.  

Zanka brings his hand to his face and pinches the bridge of his nose hard, eyes scrunching shut. Heat radiates from his face. “You are so...”  

He can’t even finish his damn sentences.  

And Rudo is quiet to the point of not breathing. Zanka can feel the weight of his eyes on him, not making a single noise as Zanka tries to calm down.  

And Zanka can’t, not completely. His heart is still beating fast as he lets go of his nose, slapping it against his leg. His blush stays no matter how many times he breathes, and he almost can’t look Rudo in the eye.  

Almost.  

Zanka slowly comes back to him, eyes squinting in embarrassment but still meeting the other’s stare. Rudo blinks, tense hands on his lap, cheeks flushed red and eyes big, brows creased and wavy hair framing his face as he anxiously waits for Zanka to say something.  

Lovely.  

Zanka clenches his fist at his side.  

“After then.” He rumbles, with all his emotions and his dignity somehow intact. He swallows at the hopeful look in Rudo’s face.  

“When we wake up tomorrow, we lock in, we go to the Doll Festival, complete our mission. And then after...” 

He looks away again, weakening. “After we can talk about whatever you want. No need to overthink it. Just pick a suitable place and we’ll have that conversation. Any time you choose.”   

And Rudo...takes it as it is.  

Zanka takes a small glance as Rudo unwinds himself, shoulders loosening and eyes turning into two pools of molten lava, before turning away again.  

“I would like that a lot,” Rudo breathes gratefully, his own version of happiness permeating the air. And he repeats the word, sounding like a promise. “After.” 

“After,” Zanka echoes.  

And with that, the two of them settle down, tentatively pleased inside their little space. There’s a buzz of electricity in the air that makes Zanka’s skin prickle. 

Zanka nods, taking another deep breath. His fist relaxes and stands there for a good moment. “Okay?”  

He directs the question to Rudo, who nods once in the corner of his eyes. “Yes.”  

And that’s all Zanka needs to skedaddle out of there.  

“Then, I’ll be off.”  

“Okay.”  

Zanka doesn’t waste time. He turns around and reaches for the door handle, opening the door.  

He pauses just slightly before he goes out, saying one last word before the door closes behind him. “You better go to sleep.”  

“I will!” Rudo’s prompt, excited agreement makes him grit his teeth behind his lips. His cheeks flush once more as the door shuts.  

Zanka immediately takes a few steps forward and puts his face in his hands, close to screaming into them if it weren't for the fact that Rudo would most definitely hear him.  

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck! 

His hands are blessedly cool against his heated face.  

The faint sound of a quiet, but triumphant “Yes!” comes from behind the door.  

He immediately straightens and starts to move, stomping away to his room without a single thought. Steam would be coming out of his ears if it were possible.  

“What a little...!” he hisses quietly as he zooms past all the other rooms to get to his own. He fumbles with the door handle before he remembers he locked it and fishes out his key aggressively, inserting the key in and unlocking the door.  

He almost slams the door shut before he remembers himself and his neighbors. He closes his door softly and locks it again.  

He takes off his sandals and then yanks his haori off, not even bothering to fold it as he flings it on top of the dresser, and promptly throws himself on top of his bed, landing face down like a starfish before gripping his sheets and scrunching himself into a ball.  

He then presses his mouth hard into his pillow and yells into it as loud as he can before he gets dizzy from the lack of air, and drowsiness washes over him.  

He takes his face away from the pillow and breathes in and out, slow and heavy. His earring rests uncomfortably under his head, but he can’t be bothered to move anymore. He shifts his blankets from underneath him to cover himself, lying on his stomach even though the position is bad for his back.  

“Fucking humiliating, that little shit,” he mumbles.  

His face is still warm, but his pillow is cold. He closes his eyes. The events of the last hour or so flash into his mind. 

Pale skin and rosy cheeks.  

And along with mortification, he allows himself to feel the thrum of excitement to pulse through him, to overpower the other along with his sleepiness.  

“After.” 

Zanka flips his pillow over to the even cooler side.  

Happy red eyes.  

He breathes a sigh of relief. 

“After.”  

He grows quiet and still as soon as he utters those last words. His mind blanks, only sleep remaining for him for the next few hours.

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It all goes to hell as quickly as it begins. Victory only for a short, fleeting moment.  

The Hell Guard along with the supporters from the south branch and Enjin took all the chokers from everybody. And then... 

One second, he’s facing the damn monster that Mymo turned himself into, and the next he’s down for the count. Again, just like that, he was nothing to his opponent. 

Always him, every damn time.  

Caught between unconsciousness and pain and shame and the half-spoken, broken call of his name and the deep rumble of his older brother's voice before he’s suddenly weightless, mind swimming, unaware of whatever was happening around him except the blood leaking from the gaping wound in his torso and his body getting colder and colder.  

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