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“Let’s run away, Zan-Zan.”
The two were lying together after a fight. It was commonplace in their relationship now, given their status as enemies on paper and Jabber’s affinity for it. Their labored breathing had been in sync, the only sound between them as they caught themselves. Normally, this state would end in kisses and touches before any words were exchanged, and Zanka would be the one to start conversations. This was odd, and stranger yet were the words that came from it.
“What? Are you fuckin’ crazy?” was Zanka’s immediate response, his brow crinkling. The suggestion was absurd. Jabber had his place amongst the Raiders, and Zanka his with the Cleaners. Would either of them ever even seriously consider leaving that?
“Y’know I am! C’mon, man, y’seen what y’do to me.” Jabber grinned broadly, sitting up. There was a spark in his eyes that he normally only had during sex or fights, one that usually softened out a bit when moments were quieter. “The Raiders been gettin’ boring. I only be sticking ‘round ‘cause it means fighting interesting people, but the Boss hasn’t been putting me out there so much recently. You’re the only guy I got hittin’ me all good.”
“Is me beatin’ you up the only reason you’re suggestin’ this?” Zanka deadpanned. As much as he enjoyed that, it didn’t seem like sufficient reason to drop everything and go God-knows-where with the man he’d only been dating for a month now.
“What? Nah, didn’t you hear me?” Jabber frowned down at him, as if disappointed in Zanka’s listening skills. When he wasn’t bouncing off the walls, he sometimes got that scolding look, like a teacher’s pet looking down on a delinquent in class. Ironic, considering their positions. “I’on wanna be a Raider no more. It’s no fun anymore. Not like you are.” He leaned in, pressing their noses together.
“Think ‘bout it! We could get far away, to some city where they don’t know our faces or names. I can fight in one those rings they got goin’ in the slums, make decent money, I did it when I was younger. You can do somethin’ smart, probably, something to do with books and things. Or maybe train people. Something like that. And we can have a lil’ apartment, ‘n’ you can get mad at me for gettin’ home too late and press down on my bruises to punish me for it. We can sleep in the same bed all the time instead of runnin’ away in the middle of the night, ‘n’ then we ain’t gotta hide no more. We can spar on the weekends until we’re both bloody ‘n’ not worry ‘bout disappointin’ a boss over neither of us dyin’. Don’t that sound… good? Better than this?” Jabber went on, his face bright in a way that Zanka never really saw. It wasn’t manic and desperate for another blow, it was… hopeful, almost.
“I… I mean, it does sound nice,” Zanka said, his logic momentarily taken away by his sheer surprise. Quickly, though, his good mind came back and he shook his head. “But I have obligations, y’know. To the Cleaners.”
“Oh my God, who cares?” Jabber grabbed Zanka with a wild grin. “Obligations can fuck themselves, Zan! It don’t matter one bit! We can be the last chance for each other, yeah?” His fingers curled into his shoulders. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, we know we on our last legs if we keep goin’ like this anyways, yeah? I’mma end up dead bitin’ off more than I can chew ‘n’ you finna get yourself killed ‘cause you takin’ on so much work.”
Zanka grit his teeth, not appreciating the dig at him. “I am not—”
“C’mon, don’tcha wanna be wit’ me?” Jabber sounded hurt now. “I thought ya wanted this. We already on fuckin’ thin ice by bein’ here—”
“It’s not that simple. I have a job.”
“You can get a new job.”
“Jabber—”
“C’mon, what even got you so attached? I thought you was over that blond.”
Zanka tensed at the mention of Enjin. Painfully straight Enjin, even if they were closer in age, that would never look his way. The man that Zanka had admired since that day he yanked him out of that well and brought him back up to his feet. The one that he chased every moment of his life, hoping to be anything similar to.
Jabber wasn’t wrong — perhaps that was the worst part. Enjin was what tethered him down to the Cleaners. Sure, he had other ties (Riyo and he were good friends and he liked Tamsy well enough), but they weren’t strong enough to choose over what he felt with the Raider. Enjin, though, he couldn’t just leave that man behind. He couldn’t walk away from the one who saved him, his idol, his mentor… and the first person he ever fell for, before he even met Jabber, if he was going to be honest.
Jabber scoffed, looking away. “Fuckin’ forget it.”
Jabber never swore. The harshness of it made Zanka flinch.
“Jabber—”
“I don’t wanna be some second best thing for you,” Jabber snapped, his eyes flashing with something that Zanka almost believed was tears. Was he crying? “‘M tired of it. ‘M not like my ma, I’m not settling forever.”
“Oh, your family sounds like a pile of crap,” Jabber had said with a giggle. Zanka, high on some new poison that Jabber had been trying out that day, had ended up blabbering on about his family situation. He had talked about the neglect of his mother, the emotional pressure of his father, the abuse his siblings put him through. And in the end, Jabber had been still smiling, like nothing changed.
“Yers can’t be much better,” Zanka had pushed back, “with how you turned out.” It had been an impulsive retort, one fueled by the drugs in his body.
Jabber had tensed at that, looked away. And when Zanka had half a mind to apologize due to the long silence, he spoke again:
“My daddy was a cheater ‘n’ a crook who took what he wanted, ‘n’ my ma stayed with him no matter what he did. ‘Ventually, he left for some new chick.” Jabber had shrugged it off. “Not particularly tragic. Normal stuff.”
Unfortunately true, on the Ground, so Zanka hadn’t push further back then.
“That ain’t what this is, you know that ain’t the same thing,” Zanka said slowly. His chest was aching as the memory swelled up, that night that Jabber first confided in Zanka what his life before looked like. That hadn’t been the last time they had talked about Jabber’s father, either. And the more Zanka learned? The more he heard about his violence, his lying, the way he treated Jabber and his mother? The more he despised a man he never met. “I ain’t like him.”
“You ain’t proving yourself any different. God, it was so much easier when you just smacked me around like he did and fucked me! I shoulda gone with what I usually do… I’ve never liked this emotional stuff, why did I decide to try to change with you of all people?” Jabber exploded.
Zanka swallowed. “What, all ‘cause I had a crush before I met you?” he snapped back.
“Man, I don’t give a damn if ya like someone else! That ain’t the issue!” Jabber rubbed his face, looking exhausted. “Hell, you could sleep with someone else, even go on a date or two, if you talked to me, and I wouldn’t care. It’s that you’re choosing him over me, Zan-Zan, when he ain’t never even looked your way once.”
A knife twisted in Zanka’s chest. It was the truth.
If he took away being in love with Enjin, what did he really have with the Cleaners. A few friends, a bed to sleep in, and some food? He could get that elsewhere. Hell, he could get that if he went back home to the Hellguards, even if he’d rather die than do so. There were other people who mentored him similarly to Enjin — Corvus had been a big help in him adjusting, August had spent ages helping him out becoming more comfortable and designing him gear — and yet he didn’t feel nearly as strongly about them despite them giving up just as much (if not more) time on him.
It was always Enjin. It was always because it was him, with that stupid dimpled grin and the breath that always smelled like nicotine and the harsh-but-needed advice when it was needed most. Enjin wasn’t something attainable, not even someone that would likely make a good partner. Maybe that was what drew Zanka into his orbit in the first place. Enjin was a golden idol, even had the hair to match. And Zanka kept running back to his feet, bowing down to a god that would never smile back at him.
Zanka chewed the inside of his cheek. Could he really do that for the rest of his life? Keep living on small scraps of praise and see Enjin eventually end up with some gorgeous woman with curves and intelligence and patience like he always went on about? Could he live without Jabber any more than the idea of losing Enjin hurt?
Jabber was moving away now, getting ready to leave, and he couldn’t let that happen—
He grappled at Jabber’s wrist, slamming him down to the ground in a well-practiced motion. His battle training always kicked in when his instincts were going haywire. Luckily, Jabber never minded being hurt, though he looked a tad annoyed at being stopped. His face naturally flushed as an ache settled into his back, his lips opening to say something—
Zanka kissed him.
And when he pulled back, he spoke again:
“Fine.”
“What?”
“Fine. Let’s go.” This was his last chance at a life that didn’t make him feel like he was constantly losing. Jabber was that chance. And in a way, Zanka was a chance for Jabber, too. Like he said, they were both running towards their own ruins now. Maybe this could save them both. “Just gimme a week to sort my shit out, and I’ll go with you.”
Jabber’s eyes widened. “For real?”
“Yeah.”
Jabber’s bright smile returned, and a weight was lifted off Zanka’s shoulders. Jabber yanked him into another kiss, and Zanka reciprocated, their lips sliding together with the natural grace that only came from knowing a person all too well.
Leaving would hurt, but he doubted it would hurt as much as turning off that light in Jabber’s eyes again.