Chapter Text
"Zanka, my wrists hurts," you were a mess, your hair looked like a bird nest, blood trickling down your wrist where you had left the mark on your skin.
The realization that you had done this to yourself that the pain you had been carrying was so immense it made Zanka froze in his steps, he bent his knees, slowly placing Lovely down on the ground, his hand visibly trembling.
Zanka's eyes finally met yours, it's hard to tell what is in his gaze, anger, perhaps, concern, maybe. He bit down on his lips, one hand went up to his chin, as if thinking what to say without damaging you more.
"Get yourself together, so stupid--" He cut himself off, "hurting your arms, did you not know we have missions coming up?"
"You needed these arms to fight, to use your vital instrument, what is your team without you, you absolute.." Crimson painted his bottom lip, he had bitten too hard.
He grabbed a clean cloth, pressing it firmly against your wrists to staunch the bleeding. He didn't flinch at the blood staining his own hands; he didn't care about the mess or your state. All he could see was the way you stared past him, as if you weren't even present in the room.
Zanka clicked his tongue sharply when you tried to sit up.
"Don't move," he commanded, though it sounded more way too soft for who he is. He leaned in, pressing a quick, fierce kiss to your temple, his lips lingering there for a second too long.
Right after the brief contact, Zanka blinked at you for a good second, he froze, flush began to crept up his ears. He mumbled quietly, "forget that, forget this, you started this messy shit, you clean it up." Even when he is scolding you, he still used the warm cloth, now soaked with warm water, your head felt so hazy that you can't even pick up the things happening.
The warmth felt nice against your skin, it stung, but you won't complain, not when it's Zanka who's wiping your ass, even when he said you were the one held responsibility to take care of yourself.
There seemed to be something blooming in Zanka, he pushed it away for far too long now.
"Bring me miso soup later, for this." He crossed his arms, and hmphed.