Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Zanka was many things: the youngest son of a prestigious family, heir to his father’s company, a college student, and a runaway.

He was also an employee at a dingy gas station, working graveyard shifts to keep up his living expenses. He used to be more, but he couldn’t hold the three jobs he was used to now that he actually had classes.

Today he had come in earlier than was expected, putting on his apron and ridiculous looking cap before clocking in, taking over his colleagues’ shift with a yawn. He high-fived her, rubbing his tired eyes with his other hand before peering towards the little notepad Riyo had left for him, lined up with the usual tasks.

“Try not to fall asleep, ‘kay?” Riyo told him, and he hummed in response. How could he fall asleep with all the sketchy characters coming into the store to pay for their gas and questionable snack choices? He’d made the mistake of dozing off just once, and when he regained his senses, a man was trying to rob the cash register very, very quietly.

The bat laying behind the counter had come in handy that day.

“I’ll see you in class,” Zanka waved at her as she disappeared into the back room, and then it was quiet.

The soft humming of the refrigerated section was the only thing louder than his own breathing. He resisted the urge to just sit down on the stool shoved into the corner of the counter and wait out his shift, but Riyo had given him stuff to do, so he might as well cross it off his list before he sat down to study.

He started with restocking for the next day, helping the sparse amount of customers entering his shop. One had refilled his car’s tank, and the other needed a drink.

After all the aisles were stocked with the things still left in the backroom, he got to cleaning. Luckily the old mop had been switched with a new one, so he didn’t have to endure the musty smell that came with it. Getting mad at the manager for his shitty standards seemed to have helped regarding their cleanliness.

He saw a bucket hat clad customer enter just as he smacked the water logged mop on the floor, so he set it against the candy shelf to scan the meagre amount of items. Eyeing the clock, it was 11 pm.

The man wearing a bucket hat left without any words or purchases, leaving Zanka to get back to mopping the floor. There was something… hypnotizing about watching the fibres move over the tile, but soon the feelings he'd been struggling with for months bubbled up and reared their ugly heads at him, a punishment for being too quiet.

Boring. Repetitive. Tiresome.

Zanka chose this job because he had no other choice and Riyo put in a good word for him. It was close by and he didn’t need any previous experience to get hired.

If his family saw him like this, though, they’d probably laugh at him. Esteemed Nijiku son, spotted cleaning grime off the floor in a run-down gas station.

Zanka stared at said floor, blinking a few times.

He desperately wanted something nice to happen to him for once. Every day had been a fight just to make ends meet, the stress of school was wearing him down more than he liked to admit. He hadn’t been able to indulge in his hobbies, or meet with his friends. The last year was just one giant blur, and he was in the middle of it.

Finally finished, he picked up the mop, dropping it into the bucket. He slowly pushed it towards the back room and emptied all of murky water into the toilet, the stall tucked away behind a bunch of jackets and stacks of old paperwork.

He scanned the shop, which looked pretty okay. He’d just wipe down the fridge doors and spend the rest of his hours cramming for the upcoming biology test. His stupid professor had left the wrong test dates on the syllabus from the last time he taught the class and refused to keep it as it was. It meant his schedule had become even more zombified since all he’d been doing during any free time was read about kinesiology and anatomy until his head started spinning. He only had one more day to prepare for it.

Sighing softly, he sat down at the counter and rummaged through his backpack which he’d left on the floor when he came in. He pulled out his textbook littered with sticky notes and his most recent notebook, clicking his mechanical pencil a few times before squishing his cheek with his palm as he leaned his head on his hand, reading the mindnumbing paragraphs.

He had no idea how much time passed until a single soul entered his general vicinity. Despite Riyo's previous warnings, he’d nearly fallen asleep when a tattooed hand waved at his face.

Irritated at himself, Zanka blearily looked up, slamming his book shut and quickly shoving it to the side.

In front of him was a man that easily towered over him. He had a shock of blonde hair and a lazy smile on his face, dressed in all black (was that a motorcycle jacket?) And holding a matching helmet under his arm. Something about the way he moved made it seem like the guy was jacked as fuck, and Zanka wasn’t just judging by how big his arms were.

Zanka's eyes briefly darted outside, catching a glimpse of a flashy motorbike waiting for its owner. Definitely worth a small fortune.

Didn’t hurt that the owner was equally flashy.

He cleared his throat, willing his eyes to divert back to the intense man standing in front of him.

“How may I help you?” Zanka asked when he realized the man had no items, nor a card out to pay.

“Can I have a pack of smokes and a map?”

The brunet paused.

“A… map?” He tilted his head. What was this, the 90’s?

“Phone’s fucked,” the customer said when he noticed Zanka’s confusion. He tossed the proof on the counter. A completely shattered phone with parts of the glass screen missing. Yikes.

“I apologize, we don’t really sell maps here. I can point you to another gas station that does though,” he mentally cursed at his manager for being such a cheapskate while he turned around to access the many brands of cigarettes. What if this guy would get mad at him?

“That’s fine,” the man brushed off, “gimme the red one right there,” he pointed his hand on the top most shelf, and Zanka had to stand on the tips of his toes to grab the pack. He felt his cheeks redden from the fact he couldn’t just reach up and grab it, having to stretch himself fully just to get to it.

When he succeeded, he smoothed out his clothes and tried not to frown while scanning the pack, peeking back at the motorcyclist. He prayed his ears weren't as red hot as they felt.

The stranger had his head tilted, still looking at him with a lazy smile.

“That’ll be six bucks,” Zanka said, staring at his biology book instead. What the hell? Since when did he have an issue with eye contact?

“Ah, gimme a sec,” the man said, looking over at the small candy display before grabbing a dozen of the same ones and dropping them right next to the cigarettes. Silently, Zanka felt his brow furrow in a blend of confusion and judgment.

Zanka dutifully scanned each bar while unwelcome gold eyes studied him, and when he was done, the total displayed on the register had quintupled. The man dropped all the candies (and the shattered phone) in his helmet in one motion without sparing them a second thought.

“Thirty-one dollars and sixty cents, please,” Zanka told him, watching the guy take out a fresh band of cash that Zanka would literally kill for.

They were all one hundred bills, Zanka realized as he watched those ridiculously big hands search for the amount he roughly needed.

“Ahh, whatever,” the blond muttered, shoving two bills in Zanka’s face. “Just keep the change. As a tip, alright?” The man gave a bright, pearly smile paired with a wink, and then he sauntered off, opening the pack of cigarettes after tearing off the plastic.

“Sir, I’m not allowed to–”

The door closed with a mocking beep.

What. The hell.

Zanka sagged back in his seat, sorting out the cash register and dropping the leftover $170 in the dusty donation pot next to the candy display.

Watching the money sit there while he was probably going to eat instant noodles for breakfast was rough.

He was being recorded though, and he didn’t want to lose his job. Not yet. He could be honest with his manager, but taking money from the store was considered theft here. Why risk it?

Zanka pulled the book back to him, opening it where he left off.

What a weirdo.

The next day Zanka was absolutely wrecked. The weather was total garbage, and he’d arrived at his morning classes in the same clothes he’d worked in since he had to go straight from the gas station to campus. He was completely soaked, dropping (and dripping) into the seat next to Riyo. She gave him one look before her face did that weird thing where she’d get such sad puppy eyes you’d join her in her misery, digging into her duffel bag and pulling out a soft towel for him to use.

“Didn’t wanna be late today. Attendance, and all that,” he muttered, taking the towel. His head was throbbing.

“Don't you have an umbrella? It’s supposed to rain all day long,” she said, her voice soft as the professor started speaking.

Zanka shook his head, and Riyo frowned.

“How will you get home?”

“Rain never hurt anyone, did it?” Zanka shrugged, taking off his tassel earrings to also dry them off.

“You could get sick, you know," she countered. “Seriously sick.”

“Come on, it's not the 1800s. I haven’t even been sick in years,” he raised a brow at her puffed up face, and she looked away, crossing her arms.

“Suit yourself.”

“Besides, I know you’ll come over and spoonfeed me canned soup when I'm dying from the flu since you’re such a great friend and all,” Zanka waved off her faux anger, and he got the wet towel shoved in his face for it, startling him.

“Bold of you to assume it won’t be made from scratch. I care about my friends enough not to feed them that poison.”

Zanka chuckled, relaxing somewhat.

“Thanks for the towel,” he gave it back to her and she nodded.

The rest of the lecture was awful. Riyo had to wake him up several times, and his clothes were still pretty damp by the time it was over. Then he had to go home the long way due to construction. Just like Riyo predicted, rain continued to flood the streets.

“Goddammit,” he muttered, stepping into the downpour. The comfort of his half dry clothes was forgotten immediately as he jogged through the storm, using whatever cover he could find as he went, but it was useless.

He was exhausted, irritated, and wet.

When a car splashed water all over him from the ditch, he kind of just stood there, glaring after the asshole.

“What a fuckin’ drag,” he muttered, shuffling forward. He just wanted to go home and take a shower.

Homemade soup sounded nice, he thought.

God, he was pathetic. He ran away with nothing, and now he had something. He couldn’t just let life step all over him like this. He'd gotten somewhere. Gotten into college all on his own, dammit. He’d gotten an apartment through sheer fucking will, and small as it was, it was his. Every cup of shitty instant noodles inside that apartment was his, too. Still, the heavy sense of defeat rubbed at him, causing his skin to prickle, feeling raw and exposed like a nerve.

Honestly, realistically, how much longer could he really keep going like this?

He was about to take a deep breath and continue his trek home when the rain suddenly stopped.

The sound remained, though.

Looking up, he saw an old, white umbrella covering him from the water, the tap-tap-taps so much more comforting than the continuous swishhh…

“Shitty weather to walk in. Got anywhere to be?”

Zanka slowly turned, feeling weighed down by his clothes and his mind, running on no sleep at all. It finally crashed into his brainchamber how this was his fortieth hour without it.

Next to him stood that weirdo from yesterday, this time in some loose clothes, a gray pair of jogging pants and a half opened black hoodie, revealing a tank top and a matching swirl of black and red tattoos marking his chest and shoulders like a painting.

“H-huh?” Zanka uttered.

“You’ve been standing there for like… two minutes? I figured a brain eating amoeba got you, but then I realized they only show up in lakes with stagnant water,” he eyed the ditch. “You should get a check-up. Just to be safe.”

Zanka’s eyes registered the fact the guy was talking to him, but it was like everything he said was muffled, a dozen miles away, like he had slipped beneath the surface of consciousness. Zanka looked down, then he rubbed his eyes and tried looking back up again, squinting.

The blond stranger was now quiet, his expression somewhat concerned.

Ah… guess Riyo was right once again. How many tallies were that today? He tried to step forward, but the weird feeling in his head increased, and he lost his balance, dead to the world.

When he came to, he was in a dark room. He groaned, feeling cold and hot all at once.

“Shit,” he said miserably. Where was he? Looking around, he saw the curtains were completely black and opaque, failing to give any hints about time. Next to him was a small nightstand, but when he tried to pick up what he could vaguely make out as a watch, the sound of a door opened, and the silhouette matched the guy he’d run into before he did the whole fainting thing. Embarrassing…

“Oh? You’re up,” the man sounded relieved. Zanka must’ve caused a real scene for this guy to be worried.

“I apologize, but where am I?” Zanka asked, rubbing his arm and suddenly realizing he wasn’t wearing his shirt. His eyes widened, and he glared at the stranger standing in the doorway.

“Did you undress me?” He asked, immediately noticing those tattooed hands rise in defense.

“You were completely soaked. What, you wanted me to just stuff you under the covers with the whole weather report still clinging onto you and messing with your immune system even more?” The sound of him clicking his tongue made Zanka look away, still mildly irritated.

He had a point.

“Anyway, you’re at my place. Go get some more rest, I’ll call you for dinner,” he said, closing the door before Zanka could even say anything back.

He couldn’t afford to waste his time here. He had to study and get ready for another shift.

Scooting to the edge of the large bed, he pushed the covers off his body and immediately felt himself tremble at the cool air. It was just a cold. He could handle a cold.

Zanka stood up, walking towards the door and opening it just a little to peek through. The stranger was nowhere to be found, just like his belongings. Fuck’s sake.

Was his only option to just waltz around naked in an unknown guy's house, hoping to find his clothes?

He felt a bit defeated, looking down at himself. At least he was wearing his boxe–

Those weren’t his.

His whole face got hot, and he pulled at the fabric a little before closing the bedroom door and sliding down against it, absolutely mortified.

So much for modesty.

Feeling determined to get the hell out of dodge all over again, he decided to just bite the bullet and sneak around the place. It was filled with random items everywhere. Zanka would call the guy a hoarder, but everything had its own spot, neatly taken care of. He peeked past the wall to what seemed to be the living room, and he saw his backpack sitting on the floor next to the couch.

Maybe his clothes were in the bathroom?

The apartment, he judged it to be, was huge. Much bigger than his own with many different doors leading to rooms that were equally as stuffed with miscellaneous knick-knacks. Zanka started to grow annoyed when he opened the sixth door and still didn’t find a clue as to where his shit was.

“Looking for something?” The voice belonging to the stranger suddenly said behind him, and Zanka jumped, hiding behind the seventh door he was about to open.

“Gimme my stuff. I gotta go,” he muttered, his eyes briefly widening at his own piss poor attitude. “Please.” He added, looking down at his feet.

He blamed the lack of sleep and this weird day.

“As you wish,” blondie shrugged and went into the room Zanka had opened, the brunet hearing some noise before his clothes were held out in front of him. Dry and smelling faintly of washing detergent.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, not moving until the taller man got the hint to stop looking.

Everything went fine until he felt a wave of nausea upon stepping into his pants, and he blindly grabbed the wall, sliding the wrong way and hitting a picture frame, both him and the item dropping to the floor.

Zanka looked at himself sprawled on the floor, dazed.

“I know I can’t peek, but judging from the gracefulness I’m hearing behind me, you’re in no shape to go back home in this weather.”

Zanka’s head shot up. “It’s still raining?”

“Mhmm. That’s why I told ya to just chill out.”

Blue eyes closed in frustration, and he bent his knees to his chest.

“I can’t afford to,” he said. “I don’t have time.”

He received no reply, and when he slowly opened his unfocused eyes, he was met with golden ones, looking at him. The man had squatted down in front of Zanka, his tattooed arms on full display as he rested them on his own knees.

“You won’t lose anything from taking a few days to recover. They will understand.”

“They won’t. If I miss one shift I’ll end up in debt. If I miss one day of studying I won’t be ready for the test. I can’t get sick. I can’t,” he felt himself panicking.

The man sighed.

“We’ll figure that out when it’s time for that, okay?”

Zanka felt himself get mad.

“How can you possibly tell me that? You don’t know what I’m dealing with, barging into my life like this and just telling me what to do!” He yelled, instantly regretting his outburst.

“Broke college kid working graveyard shifts at a gas station who hasn’t skipped a day of class while battling sleep deprivation and starvation,” the man said, tilting his head. “Relying only on himself.” Was added a second later.

Zanka’s eye twitched.

“I’m Enjin. I moved here a week ago.”

“Your apartment looks too lived-in for it to be just one week,” Zanka immediately told him.

“The other guy died,” Enjin looked dead serious before bursting out in a fit of laughter when he saw Zanka’s face.

“What the hell?” Zanka half yelled.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” the blond wiped a tear from his eyes, “I’m here on business. The apartment is owned by my friend.”

“I don’t believe you,” Zanka deadpanned. The draft from the hallway made him shiver, and he stilled himself to fend off the cold.

“You don’t have to. Just look at the picture you dropped,” Enjin nodded vaguely to Zanka’s left, and Zanka followed the man’s gaze to a small picture with a now broken glass. He slowly picked up the frame, revealing a large man with dark skin and a kind smile, holding Enjin in a headlock with one arm and swishing a beer towards the camera with his free hand.

“Whatever,” Zanka pouted.

“Let’s get you back to bed,” Enjin stood up, holding out his hand.

“Do you have my phone anywhere?” He asked, using his unworn clothes to cover his body when he let himself get pulled up by the other man.

“Ah, I’ll get it for you if you tell me your name,” Enjin gave that lazy smile, and Zanka sighed.

“Zanka Nijiku.”

Something flashed into Enjin's eyes for a split second before it was gone, and he pulled Zanka along with him to the bedroom.

“Well, Zanka, you wanna work so bad? Your job is to sleep. Got it?” Enjin went from happy and laid-back to completely serious, and holy shit he kinda looked scary. Zanka swallowed while he was pinned beneath Enjin’s intense gaze. He nodded once, twice, before Enjin relaxed and left him alone.

When Zanka buried himself in the mountain of pillows and comfortable blanket, Enjin entered the room and gave him his phone, fully charged.

“I’ll check up on you when I have dinner ready,” he said. Zanka stared at his back as he walked away, the one thing he’d been itching to understand making itself known above all else.

“Why’d you help me?” Zanka asked. And before Enjin could answer, he quickly muttered, “and… sorry for blowing up on you earlier. I’m just confused.”

Enjin turned back to him, humming at the question in thought.

“When a pretty boy lands in my arms, how can I not?” He grinned. “And you’re fine. Sleep well, Zanka,” he said, his voice dropping lower at Zanka’s name. He closed the door and all that was left of him were his heavy footsteps sauntering off.

Zanka remembered how to breathe around a minute later, after his face finally stopped blushing.

Chapter Text

“You're a disappointment, son… To go and get such stupid ideas in your head… I raised you better than this.”

“You didn’t raise me at all, father.”

The sound of a slap echoed in his skull, followed by the sting of his cheek.

“Such insolence. I have done everything for you and you spit it back in my face like an untrained dog. When have you ever even achieved something yourself, Zanka? I can’t remember a single time I’ve heard or seen you excel at anything. I went out of my way to make sure your path was an easy one, and it seems that was my only mistake.”

Zanka stared at the ground, unable to move.

“From now on, I will no longer look after you. Show me that you can do something on your own, and maybe we’ll discuss your future again when you’ve regained your wits.”

He closed his eyes. Repeating the mantra.

It’s just words.

“Never bother me with your mindless thoughts again, son. I want results, not delusions.”

It’s just words.

“Dismissed.”

Zanka slowly opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and his throat was dry.

He sat up, his body practically moving on its own. Memories of that final conversation always had that effect on him, as if he was floating above his body looking down. Maybe it was just easier that way, if he acted as if he was a passive witness at that moment.

Zanka blinked and somehow he was already tugging on his clothes, faintly remembering the fact that the guy who picked him up off the streets (Enjin, his brain supplied without his permission) had washed them. He brought the sleeve of his shirt to his face, inhaling slowly. He couldn’t smell it that well, but it was… nice.

Something about the fragrance reminded him of summer storms and the woods.

He tried to blink the fog away, running a hand through his hair and grimacing at the feeling of knots stuck in the unruly strands. His brow furrowed as he struggled to sync up with his internal clock. How long had he been out?

God… Zanka needed to get himself together. He needed to get up, thank Enjin, check if the rain had stopped, and leave.

When he opened the bedroom door, this time with a lot less suspicion, he looked towards the living room and kitchen area. It was connected, one big room with a kitchen island separating it.

Enjin was standing by the fridge, having to lower himself to grab the item he needed.

The place vaguely smelled like food, rich and heady to Zanka, who hadn’t eaten anything but cup noodles recently. His stomach betrayed him easily, rumbling with hunger at the mouthwatering scents around him.

Zanka carefully got closer. The promise of a good meal made him momentarily forget his plan for escape. Maybe he didn't have to leave immediately.

As if Enjin heard his conflicted mind, he turned around with a raised brow, smirking when he saw Zanka.

“Glad to see you're not dead. You managed to sleep another three hours on top of the original two. It’s around seven right now,” the blond frowned a little, pulling out a literal brick of a phone that looked like it belonged in a museum. It reminded Zanka of those burner phones hitmen used, making him snort to himself. Enjin fit the bill with his imposing stature and style.

“Seven twenty,” the man corrected himself, stuffing the phone in his back pocket again. Zanka tried to mentally calculate how long he’d need to get ready for his shift, realizing it was pointless if he had no idea what part of town he was in.

Somehow, the ‘manners’ that were lovingly instilled in Zanka broke through the cotton haze of his mind. They reminded him of how rude he was being. Unwelcome but familiar voices mocking him. He was imposing on this man. He was not wanted here. Disrespectful for even considering the fact he could stay.

Untrained dog.

Zanka grit his teeth. Nails dug into his palms, willing the words away, “Thank you for taking care of me, but I really should be going…” Zanka gave a small bow, trying to convey that he really fucking should be going or else his boss would have his head.

“It’s still raining,” Enjin said simply, popping the lid from a pan and making Zanka salivate with the scent of meat and spices.

“I’ll go through the rain,” he said, inwardly cringing at his own lack of resolve with the weak words leaving his mouth.

“Worked out well last time,” the words managed to lack any bite as the tall man took the pan and set it on a trivet, following suit with the other two still on the stove. “Door’s unlocked and the staircase to the right leads to the exit. Don’t get lost.”

Zanka stood there. He knew he was free to go, yet his stomach was nearly screaming at him the moment Enjin plated some jasmine rice, adding perfectly roasted veggies and revealing a seared steak which he cut in pieces, laying it on top of the rest of his dinner. It was medium rare and goddammit, it was Zanka’s favorite.

He steeled himself against the temptation. It wasn't like he had been invited to actually join for dinner anyway. He turned on his heel, retreating to the couch to retrieve his backpack, which was still wet. His books were laid on top of the coffee table, the pages warped from all the water damage.

Enjin walked towards him, passing by him and sitting down with his dinner. The smell of the high-quality food teasing Zanka once again. He bit his lip to stop himself from making some kind of uncouth noise.

The blond turned on the tv, placing his legs next to Zanka’s books and starting an old superhero movie, paying his guest no mind. He looked completely relaxed. At home, even though this place wasn’t really his.

Blue eyes went back to the stack of books, and he gathered his things with shaky hands. He was fine. Once he made it to the store he could have some cup noodles. Maybe they would even make him feel human again.

Zanka hastily stuffed everything in his backpack and walked towards the front door, hovering his hand over the door knob. He forced himself to turn it and step outside, but he swore he could feel Enjin’s eyes on him. Still, he didn’t turn around, leaving the cozy and comfortable apartment filled with the scent of a homecooked meal.

He stood in the hallway for a while, just wondering what the hell it was that he was doing. Purposely ignoring help from a man that seemed to not have any bad intentions towards him. Enjin even seemed to know that enough was enough, and had left Zanka to figure things out on his own with just the simple offer of his extended hand for help.

His throat seemed to clog up, his knees felt a bit weak, his eyes burned. His body was on the brink of emotionally overwhelming him. Zanka buried his face in the palms of his hands and willed himself not to break down right then and there.

Riyo was the only one he'd let past his mile high walls after everything that happened, and it felt as if those walls were crashing down on him the moment someone actually offered him an iota of kindness. Maybe that made him weak. Or maybe he should actually let someone else try to find a way inside his closed off mind and heart.

Was he truly so stubborn he couldn’t even accept someone’s help anymore?

Visions of his father staring down at him filled his head, and he tried to think of something else, anything else, but that train had already left the station, his memories too close to the surface. Zanka's breathing picked up and his hands started shaking.

He couldn’t miss work. He couldn’t miss class.

“We’ll figure that out when it’s time for that, okay?”

His resolve faltered. He leaned against the wall and felt his bag slowly soak through his shirt, uncomfortable and cold.

Enjin’s words were the only thing keeping him grounded in the storm that made up his mind. The concept he was starting to think of so foreign he barely knew what to do with it.

All his life, he was told he was underperforming, never good enough, a waste of space. His family had disowned him, which he found out through a text from an unknown number. He still wondered who it was that sent him the information.

He was ultimately disposable. He was just thrown away. Unable to even prove to his father that he was more than an ungrateful brat who never had any results to show.

Enjin was unknown, an enigma. His first instinct was to stay far, far away. Not really because Zanka thought he could be dangerous. No, he knew how to handle himself. More so that Enjin felt… different. Even through their limited interactions, Zanka couldn't help but feel something about the surety the other man displayed, the confidence. It bled into the way Enjin spoke to him too, almost like Zanka mattered.

The thought made him feel a little silly. Things were never that easy, especially for him. He could choose to remain alone. Miserable. Or maybe... maybe he could listen to someone else, just this once.

Just this once.

Fuck. He was so tired. If all of this blew up in his face he would just blame his exhaustion and hunger when he was berating himself later. 

Willing himself to stop shaking, he slowly stood upright again, staring at the unassuming door. He lifted his hand and knocked twice before his nerves overtook his judgment.

The silence was deafening the longer it dragged on, and he almost thought about running away. The only thing he could hear was the loud pounding of his heart. It seemed fast. It sounded strange. Scary. Terrifying.

And then the door opened.

Zanka couldn’t look at his face, too embarrassed, so he just awkwardly held onto his left arm with his hand and focused on the small table for keys just behind him. He hoped that Enjin wouldn’t laugh at him for coming back so quickly. He hadn’t even left the damn building.

Shock radiated through his bones as a strong, calloused hand gently rested on his head before it moved to his shoulder, guiding him back inside and ultimately into the kitchen.

Enjin just wordlessly made another plate of food, setting it down on the coffee table and settling back into his spot on the couch. Zanka silently followed, hesitating to even touch the meal as he put his soaked bag down where it previously waited for him.

Enjin probably thought him incapable of taking care of himself. Who could blame him when he was acting as pathetic as he was. Shit. How long had he just been staring at his plate? What if he thought that Zanka was ungrateful for his help?

The familiar, ugly thoughts got louder and louder the longer he stared at the food, and he started shaking again like he never stopped in the first place, fighting the urge to just curl into himself for being such a failure yet again. He couldn’t even thank the other man for his kindness, or pick up a damn fork to eat. It was unclear if it was because of his fever or the panic that had decimated his ability to keep the feelings from staying on the inside where they belonged. He was frozen.

“Here,” Enjin’s voice was warm. It pierced through his mind. The tone held no judgement, and yet it demanded Zanka's focus. Blue eyes looked up at him, seeing the man hold out his fork with a juicy piece of steak at the end.

Zanka blinked, panic replaced with confusion.

“Go on. I didn’t slave around in the kitchen just for the food to go cold.” He said with a grin, ushering the fork closer to Zanka’s mouth.

Zanka’s eyes went from the fork to Enjin’s face, and back again. He furrowed his brows, opening his mouth to voice some sort of protest. He could feed himself– he had just needed a minute or ten. But Enjin didn't seem interested in words and instead just pressed the meat into his open mouth.

An explosion of flavor hit his tongue, and he nearly moaned at how perfect it tasted. Holy shit, it was like his body remembered that food could taste differently from the cheap and oversalted garbage he ate at home.

He belatedly realized he’d closed his eyes, and when he opened them, Enjin looked like he was relishing at the fact his food was well received. Something resembling satisfaction written across his features. It made Zanka’s stomach flip.

“Go on,” he encouraged, cocking his head towards the plate waiting for his guest.

Zanka didn’t waste another second, grabbing his meal and scarfing it down. He barely gave a shit about etiquette, too focused on the fact that the rice was steamed just right, and the greens still had a bite to them. The steak’s flavour made him remember the days where he wasn’t yet considered to be a burden, and before he knew it, it was all gone.

He didn’t move for some time, looking at the action scene on tv and rubbing the edge of the ceramic plate with his index finger.

He belatedly registered the back of Enjin’s hand gently coming to rest against his forehead, checking his temperature after swiping his bangs away with more care than anyone had ever done.

“You’re still burnin’ up. Better get back to bed after a hot shower,” the taller man stood up, picking Zanka’s plate from his hands and setting the dishes in the sink. Zanka watched him as he looked through his fridge. His arms, now that he wasn’t wearing his hoodie and Zanka wasn’t busy freaking out, looked almost fully inked, like he would bleed black if he ever were to get a cut on that part of his body. Red lined the edges along what looked like black clouds which disappeared under the fabric of his clothes. It seemed his back hadn’t escaped the tattoo gun either.

Zanka was still openly ogling him when he came back, holding out a slice of red velvet cake.

He nudged it further towards Zanka when the brunet failed to take it.

“You've been a good boy. Ate your entire dinner including your vegetables. You've earned a treat,” Enjin said with a chuckle. The words caused Zanka to blush furiously, his brain practically short circuiting as he took the small plate and finely decorated fork.

Enjin didn’t join him, disappearing into one of the many doors down the hallway and leaving him to steam from his ears as he tried to focus on the dessert in his hands instead of that baritone voice still bouncing around in his head.

The cake tasted good, he realized by the third bite. He was almost loath to admit it. Was this how normal people lived? Those that didn’t have to fight their schedule and bank account every second of the day or had someone breathing down their neck, watching their every move? It was practically a reminder that he needed to figure out how to get to work. He hadn't even had the sense to call in, not that he intended to.

He was kind of doomed, and the only thing he could get his body to do was poke at the crumbs on his plate with his index finger. What the hell was he supposed to do now that he threw his precariously balanced life down the drain for some fantasy about a man that was just a little too charming, convincing him that things would be okay?

God, he sounded like a highschool girl.

He barely knew the guy for half a day. Was he sick or something?

Wait, scratch that.

Zanka sighed at himself, standing up and putting the plate with the rest of the dirty dishes. He grabbed the sponge sitting near the faucet and poured some soap on it, getting to work.

He might’ve been pretty useless in his current state, but he wasn’t incapable of moving. Yet.

He meticulously cleaned the kitchenware, using one of the towels to set it all on to get rid of some of the water. He was good at cleaning. He did it every day. It calmed him down and let him sort out his doubts.

Zanka had too many for that this time, there might not be enough dishes in the world to process how he was feeling right now, but it was the thought that counted.

He opened some of the cabinet doors until he found another towel and finished drying everything off, placing the now clean dishes on the kitchen island one by one.

Enjin reappeared just as Zanka was putting the last pan down, and the shorter man watched his host’s eyes turn comically large at the sight he was met with.

“Sorry if I– I mean I thought that maybe you didn’t feel like doing them…” Zanka quickly muttered an excuse before his shoulders sagged a little. “I don’t know how else to repay you for the food. And everything else.”

“I appreciate it, Zanka. Thank you,” Enjin said with that damned smile of his, and Zanka rubbed the back of his head, averting his gaze from that blinding face. He shifted his weight slightly, unsure why he liked hearing Enjin's praise so much.

“I laid out a towel and a spare set of clothes. Then it’s off to bed with you,” Enjin beckoned him, and Zanka frowned.

“Oh– no, it’s okay,” he quickly held up his arms, vaguely remembering that Enjin had brought up the whole shower thing earlier. “I’m fine, really.”

“Even though I went through the trouble to get a bath ready for you?” the blond tilted his head to the side, something Zanka had quickly learned was a habit Enjin practiced when he was studying someone or convincing them.

Zanka had long run out of fight. He decided that fuck it, he would just listen. That was why he came back in the first place, wasn’t it? His mind was quickly getting hazy again, and he just wanted to stop thinking.

This man. Enjin. Practically a stranger. But somehow so easygoing and already a pro at making Zanka doubt his usual stonefaced, surefire decisions. Who was he?

“Okay,” Zanka merely said, giving a small nod. He shuffled closer to Enjin, who yawned and kinda sucked at covering his mouth quickly enough. He pointed Zanka towards the bathroom with a few basic instructions as to which soap bottles were for what, then walked off like he didn’t have a complete stranger in his not-one-week-old apartment.

Zanka watched the bath, standing in the middle of the tiled room. The periodic drip of the faucet hitting the body of water meant for him to soak in was what finally tipped him over, and he quietly sniffled while taking off his clothes, fighting his tears even then.

He didn’t understand. What had he actually done to deserve such kindness? As he sunk into the water, he let the comfort of the menthol and eucalyptus Epsom salts ease his exhausted mind and body. 

Zanka might have dozed off a little but he did vaguely remember getting up from the bath after the water turned lukewarm, and he used the fuzzy, soft towel to dry himself off, accidentally looking in the mirror.

He looked tired, his eyes red rimmed and bloodshot. His muscles were less pronounced than before now that he didn’t have his other jobs. There wasn’t much, if anything, to look at. Nothing about him could be called close to ‘pretty’. He was just an overworked college kid, one of the masses. Enjin must’ve been joking.

He tore his eyes off of himself and put on the spare clothes, which turned out to be a black shirt in obviously Enjin’s size, together with a pair of red joggers that he could tie up at the hem, thank god. He snorted at the fact his host even added socks with the whole getup.

Humoring him, Zanka put them on and removed the plug from the bath, leaving the bathroom.

He felt strange. Despite his lingering headache, his body was relaxed and he wasn’t constantly thinking about his next move. He placed his hand on his forehead, still feeling the warmth radiating off him.

Maybe tomorrow it'll be a little better.

“Enjin?” He called out a bit hesitantly.

“Over here,” came the reply, and Zanka shuffled to the room all the way at the end of the long hallway. The door was open, revealing a cluttered office space and a clunky, old-school computer with the blond propped in front of it. The screen was off, and Enjin was simply writing a text on his equally old looking phone, turning a page of a document next to the slightly yellowed keyboard on the desk.

“You all washed up?” He asked Zanka, who nodded, suddenly feeling exposed in the oversized clothes engulfing his body.

“I’ll be stuck in here for a while. Corvus needs me to check some of his old paperwork. That’s the guy who actually lives here,” Enjin rubbed his face, leaning back in the chair. “I’d much rather take a nap with you than read about a mess I don’t care about.”

Zanka frowned, trying to ignore the ping of heat at the implication and instead focusing on the last part of Enjin’s complaint.

“Is that why you moved here?” He asked.

Enjin nodded, fidgeting with the end of a page from a big stack of files. He paused for a moment. It was almost too small to notice, though his golden eyes raked over him with a glimmer of something Zanka recognized as approval. No wonder he had such trouble keeping eye contact with him. Did Enjin always act like this? Before he could get too lost in his thoughts, the older man opened his mouth again.

“Corvus is busy in another district. I happened to be free so he told me to go and fill in for him while he finishes up over there. Can take anywhere from a week to six months. Maybe even longer,” he sighed. “I don’t know anything about this city.”

Zanka’s eyes widened and he stepped forward, too determined to care if he was in Enjin’s personal space.

“I can help you. With that,” he looked down, closing his eyes. “I grew up here. It’s big, and people can just disappear whenever they want in this city, but if you want I can… show you around…”

What the hell was he even saying?

He exhaled, opening his eyes again and seeing Enjin hold his index finger under his chin as he hummed in thought.

Then he stood up, ruffling Zanka’s hair.

“I’d love that, but you gotta get better first. Ask me on a date again in a few days, okay?” he said, guiding the shorter man to the bedroom. Zanka sputtered in turn, unable to find the words to correct him, since Enjin kept talking without a care in the world.

“I left some painkillers for you on the nightstand. They should also help with your fever,” Enjin gently pushed him inside, wishing him a good night and closing the door.

Zanka looked at his socked feet with wide eyes, Enjin’s touch still lingering on his skin.

What the fuck.

Chapter Text

His phone was ringing. Or at least, whatever gears were working in his sluggish mind told Zanka it was. Without opening his eyes, his hands fumbled around in the bed, trying to locate the device by sound and feel alone. The flickers of thought were struggling to connect as he finally found the damn thing and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw that his manager had called him six times, this being the seventh.

He picked up with shaky hands, awareness of what had happened crashing down his spine like ice water, he swallowed his nerves and spoke with a squeaky voice.

“H– hello?”

“You’re fired,” his manager said, hanging up immediately.

Zanka looked at the screen, trying to process the two words, willing the panic bubbling up inside him to stop.

It didn’t go very well.

He texted Riyo, who immediately called him. A second, yet somehow more manageable wave of anxiety crashed through him. He reluctantly picked up and let her talk, wondering what it was she had to say, scared for the possibility of her being angry with him just like his manager because he’d just lost the job she helped him get.

“Zanka,” she said, her voice the same as always, never a sign of the bite he’d grown so used to from others whenever he screwed up, “he’s just angry because you didn’t let him know in advance. I’ll talk to him and get him to hire you again,” she told him.

“It’s fine, Riyo,” he lied, “You don’t have to go out of your way.”

Zanka didn’t want to bother Riyo with his problems. He was already completely out of his comfort zone by staying at Enjin’s place.

The other side of the line was quiet for a moment, and he felt his mind drift off, wondering how he was going to pay his rent and other monthly expenses.

“Are you sick?” she suddenly asked.

Zanka chuckled, despite the situation. Of course she guessed it just from hearing him.

“Yeah,” he sniffled, his nose starting to get blocked off. Joy.

“I’ll come by with some soup then. We can talk about it when I make sure you won’t die 1800s style.”

Zanka paused, looking around the room he’d been sleeping in, the huge bed he was occupying.

“About that…”

What followed was him trying to explain to her that no, he hasn’t been kidnapped. No, Enjin was not shady. At least, not that shady. He was able to leave whenever he wanted, and yes, Enjin had kept his hands to himself.

“I don’t like this, Zanka,” she said after he answered her million questions.

“I promise you I’m okay,” he assured her, and Riyo sighed through the line.

“Be careful,” she muttered, “keep me updated, alright?”

“Okay,” Zanka agreed, realizing that his hands had stopped shaking. “I’ll text you.”

“‘Kay.”

He hung up, wondering if Enjin was awake. Deciding to go and check, he slowly stood up, his muscles protesting at the movement. He hated being sick.

He softly padded his way to the living room, but stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed a nearly white haired kid munching on a bunch of candy, suspiciously familiar wrappers scattered all over the couch. He had big eyes and even bigger bags under said eyes that made it look like he’d barely slept, ever, and he was dressed in clothes two sizes too big, wearing thick gloves like he’d forgotten to take them off with his winter coat.

They stared at each other until somewhere in the kitchen, Enjin hissed out in pain and cursed a string of words together.

Zanka tore his gaze off the kid, seeing Enjin wave his hand around before running the tap and holding his finger under the stream.

He made his way to the man, opening the cabinet door below the sink and taking out the first-aid kit without a word. He’d noticed the thing when he was doing dishes yesterday. His head was too fuzzy to wonder why Enjin cut himself with a pocket knife, setting the box beside the sharp object and opening it. Enjin had taken care of him thus far, the least Zanka could do was help stop the bleeding.

Enjin watched him as he cut a bandaid the size he needed with the scissors inside, and took the taller man’s hand. It was hard not to compare just how much bigger it was than his own. He covered the wound, cleaning everything up and stepping back.

“Thank you,” Enjin said with that lazy smile as he leaned against the kitchen counter, briefly observing his new bandaid before his gaze landed on Zanka, “How was your night?”

Zanka shrugged, avoiding those golden eyes. “It was fine. I woke up a while ago when my manager called,” he focused on the spice rack sitting on the kitchen counter. “Got fired.”

Everything became quiet and even the sound of the candy wrappers stopped.

“He fired you?” Enjin repeated as if he wasn’t quite sure he heard Zanka right.

The shorter man nodded.

“Riyo said it was ‘cuz I forgot to let him know. That’s my bad,” he tilted his head a little, finally meeting Enjin’s piercing gaze and giving a humorless smile.

The blond nodded slowly, digesting the info like he would actually do something with it. Zanka wasn’t mad at Enjin. If his manager was so eager to fire him, he must’ve been waiting for a reason.

“Breakfast will arrive in a few minutes,” Enjin rubbed his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. Even though he looked calm, Zanka had a feeling he didn’t take to the news that well.

“I’ll go make a few calls,” the blond stepped away from the counter, and Zanka had to move back a little so Enjin wouldn’t bump into him. Before he could help himself, he quickly grabbed onto the man’s arm, stopping him.

“It’s fine. I’ll be okay, I promise,” Zanka repeated to him what he told Riyo, his eyes pleading for Enjin not to interfere. Not right now. He’d barely even registered it at all. He needed to look at options, and it would take time. He just needed time to figure out a plan.

He saw the way Enjin’s face softened, just a little. He reached up to Zanka’s head, running his hand through the college student’s unruly bedhead before backing off.

“Did Rudo introduce himself yet?” Enjin changed the topic, and Zanka immediately noticed the kid’s eyes on him again.

“No,” he said, a bit wary. Something about those red eyes gave him a strange feeling.

“Where’s your manners, brat?” Enjin stomped over to the couch, plucking Rudo from his seat and shoving him towards Zanka.

“Uhm,” Zanka furrowed his brows a little.

It seemed to take forever, but finally the kid held out his gloved hand.

“I’m Rudo.”

“Zanka,” he said back, shaking it with his own.

“Ah, they grow up so fast,” Enjin commented from where he stood, right next to the couch with a stupid grin plastered on his face.

“I can’t help the fact you’re just old,” Rudo turned around, pointing at the blond. Enjin imitated getting shot, stumbling back and half falling against the wall.

“You wound me, kid,” he said, his theatrics earning a scoff and eyeroll from the teenager.

Zanka silently watched the interaction, wondering who Rudo was, exactly. He couldn’t be Enjin’s kid, could he? That would mean… But why else would there just be a teenager waltzing around the place? No way–

Zanka’s mouth fell open at his conclusion, and Rudo noticed it, his own mouth falling open too.

“Don’t say it!”

“Is he yer dad?!” Zanka pointed at Enjin while yelling at Rudo, and the blond joined their aghast expressions.

“No he ain’t! He’s just old!”

“He’s my informant!”

All three of them were gawking at each other, and Enjin was the first to recover, scratching his head, ruffling it into an unruly mess matching Zanka’s own.

“Like I said, Rudo knows about the… problem I’m working on. He’s agreed to help me, so we meet up every once in a while, like today.”

“He said he couldn’t leave the building and now I know why,” Rudo shrugged, walking back to the couch.

Zanka looked at Enjin, who very obviously avoided his eyes. Did this guy truly not want to leave just because of him?

“I wasn’t gonna rob the place,” Zanka said dryly, watching Enjin deflate.

“That’s not… god, it’s too early for this,” he complained, taking out his pack of smokes from his jogging pants and grumbling something about kids these days and no regard for my feelings. Zanka hid a smile with his hand, hearing him saunter off towards the balcony door nearly hidden behind a divider.

“Hey, brat,” Enjin said, and his eyebrow twitched when both Rudo and Zanka looked his way.

“Rudo,” he emphasized, “You can leave the notes in his study. We’re done for today,” he muttered around the unlit cigarette going outside.

“Making me walk all the way to this stupid building for ten minutes of talking,” Rudo immediately mumbled under his breath, standing up and disappearing into the hallway.

Zanka was left alone in the living room, still kind of confused as to why Enjin was working with a teenager that seemed to know about shady stuff.

It turned out breakfast was a mistake. 

Zanka had been heaving over a bucket for the last thirty minutes, feeling like death. His headache returned the moment he had to hurl his food back up, and the only reason he wasn’t scrubbing it off the floor was because Enjin had lightning fast reflexes.

The soothing motion of a hand on his back calmed him down somewhat, at least.

“Guess I was too eager with how you ate everything yesterday. Thought you’d be fine,” Enjin said, moving some of Zanka’s longer hair out of the way of his face.

“Me too,” Zanka lamented. He felt like such a burden he just wanted to disappear into the floor.

“Well, I guess I’ll go and make a trip to the store once you’ve calmed down a little.”

Zanka looked over at him, blinking away his tears. He hated being sick.

“What for?”

Enjin smiled at him. “Gotta pick you up some stomach medicine, and I don’t eat oatmeal, but Rudo told me his old man used to make him that when he wasn’t feeling good.”

Zanka leaned on the edge of the bucket, the thought of food nauseating enough to almost make him heave again.

“Please don’t talk to me about food right now,” he groaned. Enjin held up his hands, keeping his mouth shut for ten whole seconds.

“Think you can walk to bed or am I carrying you?” he asked with a wink.

Zanka just moaned in agony.

Five minutes later, he was very determinedly going back to the bedroom by himself, Enjin having cleaned the bucket and sitting on the foot of the bed once Zanka successfully got under the covers.

“Here’s my number,” he gave Zanka a note with some chicken scratch, “call me when you need anything.”

“Thank you…” Zanka slowly took the piece of torn paper, and Enjin left his side once he was sure the college student wouldn’t spontaneously combust.

The following days passed in a blur. Zanka mostly holed up in the bedroom, and Enjin never seemed to mind. He’d encourage Zanka to eat small meals, ruffling his hair when he finished the food and it stayed in his stomach. At one point his fever broke and he felt himself get stronger. The lethargy that had been pestering him cleared up bit by bit, and when Zanka wasn’t sleeping, he was nestled on the couch with copious amounts of blankets and pillows or parked in the bath with a rubber duck Enjin had found between all the bathroom products and proudly named Bobble.

“Like a bubble, but his real name is Bob.”

It was all so domestic that thinking about it too deeply would make his heart do a weird little jump, so he just took it as what it was. Enjin being himself, since apparently he had a thing for helping people and cheering them up.

Zanka noticed it when his ancient phone would ring and Enjin would pick up while they were watching a movie. Someone he knew wasn’t doing so well, so Enjin excused himself, told Zanka to just stay comfortable and that he’d be back later.

He ended up driving the person who called to the hospital, coming back at two in the morning after waiting the whole time just to drive them back.

Enjin had woken Zanka up with a string of soft apologies, picked him up and shushed his startled complaints to get him back into bed with some more painkillers.

But now that Zanka was feeling better, he couldn’t really bear to think about returning to his own shitty apartment. Just the idea of it made him feel empty.

He’d grabbed his things, and his backpack was long since dry due to the fact Enjin had hung it up at the balcony to get rid of all the remaining moisture.

“Ready?” Enjin asked with a grin after having him point out where he lived on the map the man had held out for him. Zanka merely nodded, following him but pausing in his steps when the blond picked up the two helmets that had been sitting by the entrance.

“What about the car?” He quickly asked, clutching the strap of his bag just a bit tighter.

“You don’t wanna go for a ride?” Enjin teased him, holding out a helmet for Zanka to take.

Was he in any position to refuse? Would he be considered rude? He swallowed, grabbing onto the bulky thing. He watched with sweaty palms as Enjin put on his biking jacket and opened the entrance door. The blond walked down the echoing hallway Zanka had stood five days prior, making a decision that he wasn’t yet sure how to shelf in his mind.

He had to quicken his pace a little to keep up with Enjin’s confident stride, and by the time they entered the garage through the many staircases, Zanka wondered if he could still ask for that bucket.

He’d never been on a motorcycle before. Much less anything sporty looking like the vehicle Enjin was unlocking and mounting like some kind of noble steed. He looked on with furrowed brows as Enjin fastened his own helmet, waiting for Zanka to do the same.

“You okay there?” He popped up his visor, and Zanka quickly smushed his face into his own helmet, deciding that if he were to die today, at least the last few days weren’t bad, regardless of the fact he’d been delirious for most of the hours.

“Hold on tight once you get on. There’s some pegs for your feet right here,” he pointed down at where Zanka’s feet were supposed to go, noticing how doubtful the shorter man was to actually get on.

“Relax, I’ll be gentle,” he said, winking because of course he would. Zanka was still not used to how he could be so nice one second and then do a complete 180 with all those innuendos. He hoped his helmet wouldn’t fog up from the way he was furiously blushing.

Zanka took a deep breath to calm the fuck down, looking at the way the blond sat on his motorcycle, waiting for him. He cursed the fact that Enjin could be such a flashy bastard sometimes, but he supposed that was just part of him.

The college student clumsily got on, not sure where to grab onto Enjin, who chuckled and guided Zanka’s arms around his waist. He wiggled them around a little to make sure Zanka wasn’t just going to let go and when he was satisfied, he started the deafening engine of his motorcycle and sped off without giving Zanka a chance to piss his pants in fear.

When Zanka dared to open his eyes, he saw the world move past him, the roar of the engine not as bad now that the sight was distracting him. It was a beautiful day, contrary to the dreary and drab weather Enjin had found him in previously.

The blond was squeezing his bike through the awful traffic surrounding them, and suddenly Zanka understood why he chose the motorcycle. It was completely jammed, full of angry or tired drivers getting off their nine to five.

Once he got effortlessly past the many cars, he sped up and Zanka had to hold on just a bit tighter to avoid ending up as roadkill.

Watching the river through his dark visor as they passed the bridge, it didn’t take much longer for him until he allowed himself to actually enjoy the freedom the motorcycle brought, relishing in the moment before he had to go back to his life, together with the constant worrying. Zanka accepted that he’d needed the break, even though it cost him his job. Enjin was a breath of fresh air in his distrust towards other people, helping him realize that maybe it was okay to put his feet down for once and think about his health instead of forcing himself so much it would cost him his health.

He distantly wondered how long that would last.

Zanka didn’t feel particularly relieved to see his apartment complex come into sight. Enjin slowed them down, parking in an empty lot. He took off his helmet and Zanka got off the bike, copying the taller man and staring down at the protective gear. There was a cold air of shame to have the older man seeing where he lived, but that was pushed deep down when the low hum of Enjin’s bike stopped completely, and before he knew it, a big hand carded through his unruly hair until it was somewhat back to the way it was supposed to be.

“You gonna be alright?” Enjin asked, his voice softer than usual. He placed his finger under Zanka’s chin, willing the college student to meet his eyes.

Zanka nodded, but he might as well have been swallowed by the earth itself with the sinking feeling in his chest that only seemed to grow with every second.

Saying good-bye meant breaking that careful bubble he’d resided in, having to face the harsh reality of his problems again.

Alone.

“Remember what I told you,” Enjin’s voice reached his spiraling mind, and Zanka blinked a few times, looking away. The familiar hand left his skin, resting on his shoulder instead and shaking him a little.

“Call me if you need anything. Don’t forget, Zanka,” the blond squeezed him a little to make sure Zanka heard him, and Zanka didn’t want to. Didn’t want to turn away and walk off to his front door.

His mind reeled with everything he felt like he had to say; thank you, don’t go, stay with me, I’m afraid, I can be good, I’ll show you.

I won’t be a burden anymore.

Instead of opening his mouth and being  honest, he bit the inside of his cheek to keep the pleading words at bay. As the taste of copper filled his mouth, he met Enjin’s eyes again, praying that he didn’t look too miserable, and smiled. Then he slowly walked off, unable to even say his farewells to the man that caught him when he quite literally fell due to his own recklessness. It was selfish, but he feared that if he looked back now, he’d beg Enjin to take him back just so he wouldn’t have to deal with the oncoming shitstorm of issues headed directly his way, instead burying his head in the sand like a scared ostrich.

The sound of the motorcycle only started minutes after Zanka locked himself in his apartment, dropping his bag on the floor and falling onto his couch, not even bothering to turn on the lights.

All he could think about was a situation from long ago, where his father glared down at him for expressing creativity instead of a good test result.

Chapter Text

The week after Zanka last saw Enjin was grueling. Nobody responded to his emails and he had a lot of trouble even finding a place that hired for the hours he was available. Just a weekend job wasn’t gonna cut it. He debated on trying for two jobs, if that’s what it took, but the radio silence was driving him up the wall. Next to that, he’d gotten into an argument with his biology professor after having been assigned a failed grade for being a no-show. Zanka didn’t manage to hold his temper and caused the man to tell him to get lost if he was going to be rude. He didn’t even listen to Zanka’s reasoning. He’d been a picture perfect student up until that point, and somehow his professor wouldn’t even give him the benefit of the doubt. He already caused a scene in front of the class, so it really didn’t matter to him anymore, and he heeded his professor's mocking words, walking out of the lecture room in a fit of anger.

That was a few days ago, and now he was sitting in the school cafeteria with Riyo, still tapping away at his laptop in the hopes of writing an email for a job interview that wasn’t too shitty to ignore when she pushed down his screen a little, just to meet his eyes.

“If looks could kill~” she took a bite from her sandwich, leaning back in her seat. She obviously wanted to know something.

Zanka had a vague (exact) idea as to what. He’d texted her some basic updates when he was still sick, but that was it.

He wasn’t that interested in telling her about the details.

“How’s your bike daddy?” She asked through a mouthful of food, turning the head of a passing student towards her curiously.

“Riyo!” Zanka slammed his laptop closed, glaring at her and throwing an accusing finger her way. “He ain’t anyone's daddy! Stop saying weird shit!” He yelled, his face heating up. So much for being discreet.

“Could be yours, if you let him,” she shrugged. “Tell me about–”

“No way in hell!” Zanka stood up, now completely red in the face.

“Chill, I’m joking,” she giggled, pulling him back into his seat by his arm. “I wanna know what went down. All of it.”

Zanka huffed in annoyance, crossing his arms with a grimace.

“I got sick. He took care of me. I told you that’s all it was,” he waved off her nosiness, but she didn’t give up that easily.

“The Zanka I know wouldn’t let another person even breathe in his direction if he figured out they wanted to help. I basically had to hound you for days about cutting your hair the first time, remember? What’s different about this Enjin guy?”

Zanka swallowed.

“Nothin’.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They stared at each other.

“You pay him back yet?” She grinned. “You never take things for free.”

“That’s–!” Zanka’s face got red all over again, and he groaned at her incessant poking and prodding.

“No. I didn’t even manage to say goodbye once he dropped me off. I feel like an idiot,” he admitted, frowning at his laptop and tracing the line of the closed screen with his index nail.

“You got his digits?”

Zanka nodded.

“Gimme yer phone, then,” Riyo held out her hand, and his eyes went wide.

“Are you insane? There’s no way I’ll let you text him.”

“Yeah, well you’re being a total virgin about all this, and I can’t stand watching you mope around while pretending it’s all because you can’t find a new job,” she scoffed, “I’ve seen you stare out of the lecture hall window with those romance movie eyes. The yearning ones.”

Zanka grit his teeth. Riyo didn’t back down, a smug expression crossing her face. He switched up his tactics, leaning back into his chair.

“Just tell me what to text him then, if you’ve got such a good idea,” he pulled out his phone with a roll of his eyes, swiping down his contacts and hovering over Enjin’s number.

“Coffee today at three thirty,” she stood up and walked over to him, leaning against him lazily so she could see what he was typing, “That’s like half an hour after you got your last class, right? Don’t forget the question mark and a smiley face.”

“Why?” he asked, and Riyo tapped on his screen before he moved it away from her, adding the emoji.

“Shows that you’re not desperate. Even though you are,” she walked back to her seat and grabbed her coffee. “Keep it simple, don’t give him any unnecessary details. Men don’t like it when you’re being too much,” she explained like it was maths instead of–

“Zip it, Riyo! I’m not trying to date this guy!” He smacked his phone onto the table, and she gave him a devilish grin before stealing it and sending the message, watching him freeze up completely. He hadn’t actually meant for that text to reach Enjin at all. All he wanted to do was get Riyo off his back–

“You gotta give yourself something nice, Zanka. All you’ve been doing is worrying. I’m terrified that your beautiful face will get wrinkles from the constant frowning you do. You’re not even twenty yet,” she gave him back his phone, and Zanka stared at the sent message like it had stabbed him.

“I can’t believe you…” he said, his voice breaking off at the end due to the sheer amount of holy shit holy fuck oh my god not like this flooding his mind.

“Yeah, but if I didn’t intervene, you’re never gonna meet up with him again and he’ll just end up haunting your dreams or something,” Riyo gulped all of her coffee in one go, sticking out her tongue at the bitterness and standing up to throw away the cup.

Zanka couldn’t argue back as he glared at her while she walked away, because she was undeniably right. Enjin had been on his mind far too many times for it to just be normal.

He belatedly realized Enjin didn’t actually have his number, so with great effort, he sent a followup text.

So much for keeping that distance, hoping not to fall into the mishmash of thoughts that enveloped his mind whenever he thought of the tall blond. He’d told himself that he wouldn’t contact Enjin, not until he had a solid plan to pay him back, but now he’d gone and thrown himself head first into a new mess. He’d just pay for Enjin’s coffee, thank him again and try not to feel too much like an idiot about it all.

He was a bundle of nerves in the hours after lunch. Riyo didn’t have any of his other classes, and he was stuck in chem when his phone vibrated.

Continuously.

He quickly and sneakily got his phone out of his pocket, seeing Enjin’s name on his screen. He panicked, denying the call and tossing his phone in his bag next to the table he was sitting at. The sudden move caught his experiment to nearly tumble over and he bit his tongue so he wouldn’t sling profanities through the middle of his professor's explanations.

He should’ve ignored Riyo. He barely had time to figure anything out that happened the past week and now he was about to be thrown head first into Enjin once again. What would the guy even think?

“Mr. Nijiku, it appears one of your phials has indeed left the table, despite your prior efforts to keep it steady,” his professor said with a bored tone, “Do try to pay attention, you’re lucky this one isn’t corrosive.”

Blue eyes slowly made their way to the floor, and the mixture he’d been working on had barely missed his bag, spilled onto the floor in a sad little puddle.

He quickly apologized, standing up from his seat to clean it all.

God damn it all.

When 3 pm rolled around and he was finally free, he dared to look at his phone.

Just that one canceled call from Enjin was what greeted him, so he tapped on the notification and called him back, hoping he wouldn’t say something dumb like ‘oh hey sorry, that text was a mistake and I don’t actually wanna meet up with you because I don’t know how to express my gratitude without sounding like I’m insane’.

He dragged his palm across his face and waited, digging a hole into the grass with the tip of his boot.

“Hello there,” Enjin said when he picked up, and Zanka immediately felt a jolt run up his spine from the familiar voice, now close to his ear and fuck, what was wrong with him?

“Hi,” Zanka replied lamely.

“Where do you want me?” nothing about him denying the call, or asking him why. Just a stupid flirty question. Zanka couldn’t help the little smile pulling at his mouth now that Enjin couldn’t actually see him. Typical.

“You know where the community college is around here?” Zanka asked, carefully smushing the grass back in its place. 

“Hmmm,” Enjin mused for a moment until he spoke up again, “I think I do. It’s that big, artsy looking building, right?”

“Yep. There’s a coffee shop across from there. It’s got a blue sign that says Haven on it.”

“I’ll be there in ten,” the man on the other end said. “You’ll wait for me, won’t you?”

“I might change my mind.” Zanka was pretty sure his face was broken, the way he couldn’t stop smiling.

“You give me more and more reasons to ditch this meeting,” Enjin actually laughed, the sound resonant and such a perfect reminder of the best week he’d experienced in years. Even over the speaker of his phone, it was enough to make him relax, if only a little.

“I’ll see you there,” Zanka said, hanging up after Enjin gave a cheery goodbye.

Feeling a little more grounded after their totally normal conversation, he went to Riyo’s texts and typed a message, briefly hesitating to send it but ultimately just pressing enter. She’d probably try to pry if he kept this to himself, after all.

Riyo sent him an animated sticker of a cat that rolled its eyes, so he didn’t bother replying to her and made his way across the street, entering the coffee shop and sitting down at one of the tables. He took out his laptop, deciding he could fill the time waiting with more job hunting.

Zanka expected himself to be more nervous, seeing as he was about to meet the guy that intimately took care of him for nearly a week despite not knowing anything about him (other than that painfully accurate summary). Enjin had seen him at his worst, and he was still coming his way.

Zanka tried to focus on his writing instead of trailing back to the one person he’d been thinking of ever since he was back to being a semi healthy college student. He did his best to be nice in the emails, but with every single one he sent, he felt less and less like he could keep repeating the same thing over and over.

He’d think that people would be eager to hire someone that worked the night hours. Turns out he was incredibly wrong.

He heard the bell of the coffee shop entrance after he’d applied for three more places, and he looked up, his eyes widening at the sight in front of him.

Enjin was entering the room, a black dress shirt hugging his frame. As if he’d forgotten to button it fully, his chest peeked out and with it the black and red tattoos marking his skin. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing that familiar swirl of clouds going all the way to his hands, his left wrist adorned with a silver watch that seemed like it was worth Zanka’s rent at least five times. Black slacks hugged his legs and polished dark red dress shoes completed the whole outfit effortlessly, like it was made for only him.

Zanka immediately felt underdressed in his old gray hoodie and ripped jeans with sneakers that were at least three years old. He’d been so tired he just straight up grabbed the first thing hanging over his laundry chair, not looking twice at himself in the mirror.

Golden eyes scanned the shop which had automatically lost twenty percent of its charm the moment Enjin walked in, and he smiled that pearly, confident smile when he spotted Zanka almost hiding behind his laptop.

“Zanka!” He said cheerfully, waving his hand around, which seemed to be holding a dark red suit jacket.

“Ahh– Hi,” Zanka blushed when Enjin walked towards him, feeling the entire shop looking at them.

“Did you order anything yet?” He asked, to which Zanka shook his head.

“I didn’t know what you’d like,” Zanka shrugged.

“Anything with caffeine in it, honestly,” Enjin sighed, half turning towards the counter with a very nervous looking girl behind it. “What do you want? Large iced pumpkin spice latte with extra cinnamon and sub almond milk, don’t forget the whipped cream?” Enjin pulled out that ridiculous wad of money from his back pocket again and Zanka just ogled him with his mouth open at the order the blond made up out of thin air for him.

“That’s fine, really! I’ll pay for our order–” Enjin completely ignored him even though the brunet was scurrying to stand up, turning away and going to the girl that flinched when he leaned on the counter, telling her his order and pointing down at the pastry display to his right.

Zanka should’ve known. Really. He remembered their first meeting, where Enjin just casually tipped him a hundred and seventy bucks because he was too lazy to go through all his bills.

The brunet slowly sat back down and watched Enjin with a bouncing leg, seeing him pay and only take the bills for change. When he sat down across from Zanka and placed his jacket next to him on the table, he stretched his legs and touched Zanka’s own, making the shorter of the two jump a little. He instantly averted his eyes.

Zanka’s earlier demeanor had totally shifted. He was back to feeling like a livewire because Enjin was once again taking care of him. To think he was going to use this meeting to pay Enjin back now felt like a cruel joke.

When he failed to say anything for at least two minutes, Enjin tapped Zanka’s worn out sneaker.

“Anyone home?” The blond leaned a bit closer, tilting his head down to meet Zanka’s eyes.

“You didn’t have to pay,” Zanka said quietly, willing himself to lock eyes with Enjin. “I could’ve handled it.”

He could instantly tell the shift in Enjin’s posture the moment he got more serious, his smile fading and being replaced by something more neutral, almost discontented.

“You think I’m doing this ‘cuz I see you as a charity case? Because I pity you?” He asked, and somehow, Zanka had no trouble keeping his eyes on the man in front of him now that he wasn’t so laid back. Something seemed more… heavy. Like he’d stepped on the wrong stone and was about to lose his balance.

“I’ve never once pitied you,” Enjin continued, “You don’t seem to see what I see, and that’s to be expected, but I’m genuinely here because I like people that don’t give up. You’re stubborn, maybe a little too much, but it doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re a fighter,” Enjin intertwined his own hands, leaning his chin on top of them as he continued, “I choose to do what I want with my money. You can accept what I give you, or not. It doesn’t hurt me, but what does hurt me is the fact you think you don’t deserve it.”

Zanka swallowed, unable to fully tear his eyes off of the man who just revealed why, like he’d been frozen. The true answer to the question that had been nagging the back of his head, every single day since he met him, was just tossed at him while he was wracking his brain to figure it out himself and failing, because Enjin’s kindness didn’t make sense to him.

He tried to speak, but all that would come out was variations of words which Enjin already shut down with his own. Zanka ended up gritting his teeth instead, keeping quiet.

“You might not know me that well yet, but telling me what’s on your mind is a good thing,” Enjin sighed when he knew Zanka wasn’t going to reply to him on his own volition, “I won’t judge you.”

“You wouldn’t like my answer. Sometimes it’s better to keep quiet,” he managed to say with some effort.

“Then we can talk about something else, if you want,” Enjin suggested, to which Zanka nodded. He wasn’t ready to tackle everything Enjin just told him. It made him feel strange. Made him want to run far, far away.

“Did you end up getting a new phone?” Zanka asked instead, since he somewhat remembered the times where Enjin would be watching a movie with him or eating breakfast when his phone would make a noise, and he’d complain animatedly about having to text someone.

Taking out his dinky old brick of a phone, Enjin openly lamented, gesturing towards the sad display of communication laying on the table, wobbling around a little. It made it easier for Zanka to remain in his seat, knowing the conversation had successfully shifted away from the topic he didn’t want to face.

“Work issued. Work issued! It’s just Corvus making fun of me because I broke the other one,” He complained, picking it up and glaring at it, “It fell out of my jacket while driving, and yes, that’s my fault, but come on,” he sounded genuinely bothered by it, but the sight was a bit funny. His hands were huge and the phone was just… not that big compared to Enjin. It looked like a toy when he was holding it.

Zanka slowly relaxed as the blond tried to navigate the buttons, telling Zanka he was trying to send him a text just to show how long it would take.

One and a half minutes later (Zanka timed it), his phone vibrated. Taking it out, he read the text.

He looked up, and was met with Enjin who had a dismayed expression marring his face, completely defeated by the old technology.

“A little,” Zanka said, against all the ringing alarm bells in his mind. Enjin raised his head, furrowing his brows before he broke out in a stupidly big grin.

“Aww, are you trying to cheer me up?” He cooed. Zanka quickly got ready to protest, feeling his ears grow hot, but before he could even say anything, the barista from before called out Zanka’s name.

He kept his eyes on Enjin for a second longer to let him know he didn’t get off scot free for putting words into his mouth before standing up to get the tray with what seemed to be more than just two coffees.

Two chocolate glazed donuts, an almond croissant that had been meticulously dusted with powdered sugar, and a slice of carrot cake decorated with icing and some crushed nuts on top were waiting for him next to the ridiculous iced concoction and a simple black coffee, like it had been put there as an afterthought.

He muttered a thank you to the girl behind the counter, taking the tray and returning to his seat.

He had no idea how to approach this, which Enjin noticed immediately, so he took the food and drinks, placing everything but one donut and the normal coffee in front of Zanka, setting his laptop to the side.

“I can’t eat all this,” the brunet told him with furrowed brows.

“Why not?” Enjin asked as he took a bite from his donut, “you got a cavity?”

Zanka sighed, knowing if he said his reasoning that the conversation would just roll back to before, so he slowly took the big cup in his hand, turning it around and seeing the liquid swirl around a bit before he took a hesitant sip from the straw.

It tasted way, way better than the cafeteria coffee or the regular cheap order he got at this place, the combination of cinnamon and sweetness from the frothed milk and whipped cream dancing on his palate, creating a harmony of flavors that made it hard to stop drinking.

How’d Enjin always get it right? Was he really such an open book?

“it’s good,” Zanka said after willing himself to put down the drink. The words made Enjin smile in that satisfaction that so easily came whenever Zanka listened to him, and the shorter man did everything in his power to remain neutral at the silent contentment directed his way.

The pastries tasted equally sweet and amazing when he took a bite out of them, finishing them one by one, and Zanka tried to come up with a topic to talk about, but he didn’t know what in the world he should say. Enjin didn’t seem like he would pry about his job, or his failing grade, so it was a bit… awkward, to say the least. Nevermind the fact he didn’t really know anything about Enjin at all, and the blond was perfectly fine with keeping it like that.

How was he supposed to make conversation with people again?

Zanka wasn’t exactly a social butterfly. His only goal in life was to get results, which took all of his energy. He’d only ever been to a few parties, dragged along by Riyo who did most of the talking.

He was brewing in his thoughts when he felt Enjin’s hand trail over his own, and he looked up from the table to see the blond meeting his eyes with a mildly furrowed brow.

“I gotta go back soon,” he admitted, “They weren’t too happy that I left them to their own devices.”

Zanka nodded, gazing at Enjin’s hand enveloped over his own. Had he truly ditched the people he was working with for this terrible coffee meetup?

He bit his tongue, tilting his head to the side. He’d have to say it now, or else Enjin really would’ve wasted his time.

“Enjin,” Zanka spoke up, keeping his eyes on their hands.

“Yes?” The blond squeezed a little, successfully unleashing the blush that had been threatening to form on Zanka’s face for the better half of their silence.

“Thank you for… well, you know. It made me realize that not everything needs to be perfect. That I can make mistakes, and rely on someone when I need to,” blue eyes hesitantly shifted to Enjin’s face.

He was smiling, again. That knowing one, where Enjin knew he was right about him.

“Sometimes it’s better to be an ordinary guy and enjoy life with others than to be at the top and hating everything and everyone around you,” Enjin said casually. “Fighting for your place in the world is good, but pace yourself. I’m only a call away,” he stood up, ruffling Zanka’s hair before putting on his jacket, the dark red fabric hugging his frame just right.

“I’ll…keep it in mind,” Zanka said quietly. Standing up as well.

“I’ll see you around, okay? Still gotta show me the city, after all,” Enjin chuckled.

“Right…” Zanka averted his eyes, feeling his face heat up even more at the reminder of his sudden words in the study. He’d surprised even himself back then.

“Bye, Zanka,” Enjin waved, turning around and taking a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, lighting one up when he passed by the window of the shop, and then he was gone, a puff of smoke trailing where he went all that remained of him before that too dissipated into the early fall air.

Zanka looked back at the table, and he realized that Enjin had only spoken up when Zanka had finished everything they’d ordered, leaving all that time for Zanka to silently figure out how to phrase his thoughts and still getting next to nowhere.

Even though Enjin had spelled it all out for him, he had difficulty believing that the words were true.

Why him? It wasn’t like he was enjoying his life, the way it was now. Enjin would’ve been better off not going through all that trouble, since that was all Zanka really brought. Trouble, problems and disappointment.

A nagging voice in the back of his mind provided him with the impossible thought that maybe that was why, but he refused to acknowledge it.

Chapter Text

Another five days went by until Zanka was laying on the couch in Riyo’s dorm, having fallen asleep right after he got to her place, and the redhead was absolutely fine with letting him rest since she knew he only had fleeting hours where his mind wasn’t actively tormenting him.

Only when it was dark outside did she actually bother to wake up the log that made up her friend, Zanka squinting one eye at her while hiding the rest of his face as he tried to move away from her.

“Good morning, grumpy,” she said airily, “We still need to write at least a thousand words for the assignment tonight if we don’t wanna work like crazy maniacs right before the deadline.”

“It’ll be fine,” he muttered, having smushed his face in the back rest of the couch, “Just a few more minutes.”

“Ah, also,” she giggled at his crabby response, standing up from where she’d been squatting to poke Zanka’s cheek, “I think yer man got a new phone. Someone keeps texting ya,” she quickly backed off when a hand nearly swatted her, and Zanka got up in a frenzy, searching for his phone.

“He’s not my man Riyo, get it through your skull!” He barked at her while he found the thing lying on Riyo’s desk and ran towards it like a madman, making the redhead snort before laughing and walking off.

A string of texts was on his lockscreen, so he quickly punched in his password and opened the first, surprised to see a myriad of sentences way more readable than the badly typed jargon Enjin had messaged him almost a week ago.

Zanka ogled the string of messages. A favor. An actual favor he could do for Enjin. It was almost unbelievable, and he ran towards Riyo’s bedroom, barging in with an alarmed look on his face.

“Riyo,” he called out her name with his voice high and panicked. His friend jumped at the urgency he presented, dropping her book.

“Help me,” He showed her the messages, and just like his own, her green eyes widened considerably once she came closer and read it all.

“Tomorrow I’ll be at your place, 5 pm. Haircut first. Do you still have that Kimono that you showed me back when I was nosing around your closet?” She listed everything while counting on her fingers, and Zanka nodded avidly.

“Good, get the wrinkles out of it, I don’t care how you do it. I’ll make you look good,” she said with a determined look on her face, giving him two thumbs up.

“Thank you,” he told her honestly, and she gave a happy grin.

“Anytime!”

“I have no idea what he does for a living,” Zanka read over the messages again, furrowing his brows.

“Probably owns a company with that friend of his,” Riyo shrugged, “It makes sense, right? Flashy bike, lots of money, nice clothes, parties…”

“Yeah, but he just seems so…”

“Not snobby?” Riyo finished for him, and he frowned.

“I think there’s something else. He said he was working on some kind of problem. He hesitated to be clear with me, but the day after he told me about it, there was a kid visiting his apartment,” he explained to her, “Enjin said he was an informant.”

“A kid?” Riyo parroted. Zanka nodded, sitting down on her bed.

“Enjin’s not usually in this town. Doesn’t know anything about it so I…” he trailed off, rerouting his words, “He was in a meeting with some big wigs he didn’t really like.”

“Maybe he’s a detective,” Riyo guessed, sitting next to him and wiggling her heels around on the carpet. “What if the kid’s involved in the case?”

Zanka didn’t reply at first, staring at his phone.

“That would make him a witness,” he finally told her.

“Hmmm,” she mused.

“Hmmm,” He joined her.

“Mysterious. I don’t feel like sticking my toes in that. Good luck figuring it out,” she stood up, leaving the bedroom and Zanka, who was now stirring in the scarce amount of Enjin puzzle pieces.

He was too tired to really dwell on it, though, and given the fact Enjin wasn’t really that keen on telling Zanka about it, it was not his place to know. Better not poke his nose into business that clearly wasn’t his.

He followed Riyo back to the small living room, laying back on the couch and listening to the redhead order food for them on her phone.

Closing his eyes again, his mind drifted to what the mystery event would be like instead of worrying about his biology assignment.

The next day, Zanka was in a hurry with everything he did. Classes, two job interviews he probably botched, and getting his dust filled kimono to and from the dry cleaners all before Riyo rolled around his apartment to fix his hair and make sure he actually looked good for the place Enjin would take him. He’d said yes, but his nerves were buzzing with anxiety at the fact he was actually going, nevermind the fact that he was putting a ton of effort in just to make sure he wouldn’t look like some sort of stray next to the blond. He hadn’t slept a wink that night, constantly mulling over the thought of things somehow going wrong.

The money was another issue. He’d ended up overpaying for his clothes because they apparently charged extra for prioritizing his order. All in all, the dip in his wallet felt like he’d unearthed a cave to decorate his grave in. The irksome feeling that came with not knowing his future was truly sapping him of his energy. He just couldn’t stop worrying.

Still, he actually felt useful to Enjin, so it was a small victory he would gladly take. Maybe he could ask his landlord to give him some more time to pay rent. He’d always been punctual, after all.

Just more thumb twiddling to add onto the pile for when he would lay down in his bed at night.

Zanka was sweating bullets by the time he got through his front door, struggling with all his baggage and ending up just dropping everything on the couch, which resulted in Riyo letting out a startled noise, followed by Zanka giving a very manly shriek of terror at the unexpected sound.

“Riyo!” He held a hand over his chest, trying to calm down his breathing.

“Yer late!” She pouted, “and why are you even surprised? You gave me a key, remember?”

Honestly, he didn’t, but she’d never gone into his apartment unannounced before this.

“I don’t even remember what I ate for breakfast yesterday,” he sighed, feeling the exhaustion of the day already seep into his bones.

“Probably toast with butter, like always,” Riyo said, and Zanka watched her move all the stuff he unknowingly dumped on her and get up from her seat, grabbing her little haircut coffer and dragging him to the kitchen area, which was most lit up by the twilight shining into Zanka’s home.

“I’ll just take off the ends and give you an easy hairstyle, alright?” She asked when she turned on every light she could, sitting him down on one of the two kitchen chairs he had bought from the previous tenant and covering him with a black hairdressing cape.

“Sounds good,” Zanka watched her place everything on his dinner table. Scissors, a comb, some hair ties, clips and a decorative piece that he didn’t recognize.

It was a blue flower that matched his earrings, with two silver beaded chains ending in small pendants hanging from it.

“You like?” She giggled, holding it out for him to see.

“It’s pretty, I suppose,” he took it, turning it in his hands. The pendants had something like waves behind the glassy exterior, small but still quite eyecatching.

“You suppose?” Riyo raised a brow, “It doesn’t hurt to be honest sometimes, Zanka,” she chided him, and Zanka grimaced, looking away from her huge green eyes. Seriously, she always just said whatever came to mind…

In a way it had helped him more often than not, though. Usually he’d always have such a way of doing things that he didn’t think twice about the fact there could be a different outlook, opinion or result. Riyo was always in his corner. The closest thing to family he had ever since he ran away.

He felt her card through his hair, her small hands precise and deft before taking her comb and getting to work.

“How were the interviews?” Riyo asked after five minutes of them listening to his fridge doing its best to keep his meagre amounts of food cold, despite its age.

“Messed them up,” he said, still holding onto the hairpiece and fidgeting with the flower petals.

“How come?” She got into his vision, seemingly trying to make sense of his expression.

“They asked me all these weird and unrelated questions. I didn’t know how to answer,” Zanka followed her with his eyes until she was out of his sight, snipping away at his hair again.

“You never know. Maybe you answered right,” she encouraged him.

He hummed, not really keen on keeping that conversation going.

Riyo remained quiet for the rest of her task, probably realizing just how tired he really was. She was gentle whenever she asked something of him, like raising his head or lowering it, and he quietly listened to her work.

After a while, she took off the cape and ordered him to go and take a shower, so slowly he trudged off into his bathroom while she cleaned up the fallen hair, wondering how in the world he was going to keep his energy up for what was to come.

“Absolutely not.” Zanka fixed her with a glare.

Riyo just pouted as she held up her make-up bag.

“I don’t see how this is gonna help at all,” he started to protest, so she quickly smacked her index finger on his lips.

“Told ya I’d make ya look good. You are expected to be Enjin’s hot date for tonight, so sacrifices must be made. Ass meet couch,” she pointed to said couch, and he groaned in annoyance, dropping into the furniture’s worn leather. He was itching to call out her choice of words, but she was already wearing that small frown that told him she meant business.

Riyo had already done his hair, which ended up with his fringe covering his face just a bit more, while the left side of his hair was loosely braided to keep it out of his face, secured with the decorative hairpin resting slightly above his ear.

Zanka wanted to run away, but he also didn’t want to disappoint Enjin, scared to even think about the possibility of standing him up or not looking the part for the event.

“Fine,” he muttered, and Riyo excitedly clapped her hands together before scooting closer to and using the table as her own seat. She wasted no time in applying all sorts of products, not even taking the time to explain what the hell she was doing.

She made Zanka sneeze several times with all the powders she was applying on and around his face, and he tried really, really hard not to move when she told him to close his eyes. He felt himself grow more and more nervous at what she was painting on his face, feeling more and more like he’d be ready to walk right into a circus with what he imagined himself to look like, but then she held out a mirror and…

He didn’t look tired. His eyes had a hint of blue, and his eyes were accentuated with a sharp line, giving him a more intense gaze.

“Kimono time!” She gave a big smile, pulling him up from the couch and steadying him when he briefly threatened to fall over from the sudden movement.

“Strip,” she ordered, and he blanched, eyes growing wide.

“‘Scuse me?!” He yelled, but she didn’t waver.

“Take it off. You need help with the fabric and the obi,” she unzipped the clothing bag that had been forgotten on the couch ever since Riyo got a hold of him, and he could do nothing but ogle her in disbelief while she laid everything out.

“...We don’t speak of this,” he jabbed a finger in her direction, and she just giggled, in typical Riyo fashion.

“Bye, Zanka! Riyo waved at him excitedly as she ran down the hallway at 7:25 pm, and he let out a deep breath, going back inside his apartment and to the bathroom to really look at himself.

He looked like every part of him was given great care, from his face all the way to his zori. The last time he wore these clothes was when he was forced to attend his fathers in-house party, where he was to entertain his snobheaded guests and talk about the company like he was actually going to inherit it.

It was deep blue and white, with an intricate, white flower design on the left side of the fabric. The sash was also white with a hand-sewn pattern along the length, and it made him look every bit the elegant Nijiku son he once was. Bits and pieces of his memory resurfaced, none of them particularly good.

He looked up at his face. Seeing himself without dark circles under his eyes was still odd. He wasn’t used to it anymore. Rest was few and far between, so he’d completely given up on his looks. It was his last priority with the way things have been going. Instead of caring about his appearance, he cared more about making it through the semester and wondering if he could still pay rent. If he got a job, he’d become a burden immediately with his request to have an advance payment. He wasn’t sure if it would even be granted, if he’d ever get to that point in the first place.

He turned off the bathroom light, going back to the couch and waiting for Enjin, which didn’t take long at all, since the moment he sat down, his doorbell rang.

Zanka scurried to open the door, and when he did he stopped breathing.

Enjin stood there, dressed in a full black suit with a particularly bored expression on his face, which completely disappeared once he caught sight of the brunet in front of him, his golden eyes widening considerably when he took in Zanka’s look for the party. He had his hair gelled back more neatly than usual, that same watch peeking from under his sleeve, and his hands adorned with silver rings, glinting in the dim hallway light.

As if time stopped, they both just looked at each other, unable to say a thing.

Enjin was the first to break their silence after what seemed like minutes, but should have been seconds, placing a featherlight hand under Zanka’s chin to tilt his head up and causing blue eyes to quickly avert their gaze and look anywhere but Enjin.

“You look beautiful,” the blond told him, his voice giving that familiar hint of fondness Zanka could never forget.

“Thank you…” Zanka tried to maintain a steady voice, but he found anything he was going to say after that completely stuck in his throat when he dared to return his eyes to Enjin, seeing the man smile with something that seemed scarily similar to adoration, which caused Zanka to immediately try and shut down that thought.

Enjin traced his fingers along Zanka’s jawline before letting it drop and taking the brunet’s hand.

“Car’s parked out front,” Enjin told him, stepping back a little and guiding Zanka to his right side once the college student took his offer.

Zanka had trouble remaining present. That look was still seared into his mind. It wasn’t just normal. He’d never seen such an honest display of affection come from anyone else, let alone Enjin. He now felt like he knew even less about the blond walking next to him, down the stairs and outside his apartment complex.

When Zanka finally found his voice again, they were minutes into their drive.

Blue eyes looked up at Enjin, who was leaning his elbow against the door and resting his head on his palm while driving them through the moderately moving traffic.

“What kind of event is it?” Zanka asked, if only to distract himself from his mind, which made Enjin eye him briefly before returning his eyes to the road.

“Charity ball,” the taller man said, “I don’t usually attend these things and remain in my little corner, but Semiu needed someone to keep up appearances, and lo and behold, here we are,” he chuckled.

“Who’s Semiu?”

“The one person in my life that makes sure I get scolded when I do something wrong,” he grinned at Zanka, who furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Don’t tell me–” Zanka suddenly sat up straight, and Enjin could immediately tell he was about to come to some outrageous assumption.

“Assistant!” He held up a quick finger, hushing Zanka, “She’s always making sure I don’t slack off. Too much.”

Zanka let go of a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and relaxed back in his seat.

Thank god, he thought.

Wait. Zanka frowned.

Why was he so happy Semiu wasn’t Enjin’s girlfriend?

He quickly tried to let go of that train of thought, sneaking a peek at Enjin again. The blond was tapping along to the radio song playing at nearly an undiscernable volume, focused on the road in front of him as he cruised through the maze of skyscrapers around them. He didn’t seem like he caught onto what Zanka was thinking, or the fact he was looking, so the shorter man took the opportunity to study Enjin’s habits a little.

Unlike the flashiness he held when he was driving his motorcycle, Enjin was more laid-back in the car, looking through the tinted windows without moving too much. He seemed lost in his own mind for once, and Zanka wondered why.

He knew Enjin wasn’t fond of going, planning to use some excuse so they could leave early, but he wondered if that was the only reason.

Before he could cook up any wild theories, Enjin’s eyes found his, and the blond smiled, reaching out a hand but stopping last second, Zanka expecting him to ruffle his hair like he did many times before.

Instead, he gently placed his palm on Zanka’s cheek and caressed his slightly pink tinted skin with his thumb before settling his hand back on the clutch, the carefulness of his touch so simple, yet Zanka couldn’t bring himself to move on from it.

The remainder of their ride was spent with Zanka trying not to have a tomato-red face, thinking about many sad and gross things like the liquid that would fall out of a garbage bag and inevitably land on one’s feet when taking it outside.

He managed to calm down considerably by the time they reached their destination.

“Here we are,” Enjin said after turning right onto a property that was filled with people, not sounding everjoyed. He got out after parking at the entrance, walking around the back of the car and opening Zanka’s door, holding out a hand much like he’d done back at the apartment.

Zanka took it, carefully stepping out of the car and seeing a red carpet with a bunch of suits that looked like doormen. A valet walked up to Enjin, who handed the man his keys.

The blond leaned down to talk to him, clearly trying to avoid any nosy people, his voice right beside Zanka’s ear and succeeding easily at making the brunet nearly jump from the unexpected sound.

“Tell me if things get too much, okay?” he asked, linking his arm with Zanka’s, who already felt like he was stepping right off the earth with the way he was thrown back into a life he never thought he’d go back to again.

Zanka was still recovering from hearing Enjin’s voice playing pachinko in his head when he was guided inside, the boisterous display of money and fame coming from every person they passed, and this was only the lobby.

Enjin took them to an elevator, where a man in a suit pressed a button for them, and a ding after an awkward silence revealed a dimly lit navy ballroom with golden accents and interior, filled with people that looked like they came straight out of a movie. Women dressed in beautiful dresses, men in suits that were tailored to their bodies, all mingling under a giant chandelier that was made almost entirely out of diamonds. Two sets of stairs lined the walls with attendees standing and talking, a massive set of doors up on the second floor leading to an unknown place.

Catering staff weaved through the groups of people, offering beverages and small complimentary appetizers for willing participants.

Zanka was still processing the bombardment of stimuli when Enjin got approached the moment they stepped into the large room, an old man greeting him by name and placing a rough hand on his shoulder.

“Enjin, my boy! How long has it been? It almost seems like yesterday when Corvus picked you up,” he said with a smile. One of his teeth was gold, the crows feet around his eyes crinkling from his smile.

“I believe it’s been six years now, sir,” Enjin said to him, offering a charming smile back. Something was different, though. Zanka could immediately tell that it was forced, the way it didn’t really reach his eyes.

“Six years!” The man repeated boisterously. “That would make you how old, now?”

“Exactly thirty, sir,” Enjin dipped his head, and the man hummed in response while Zanka quietly filed that info away for later.

“You’re a real man now, Enjin! And who did you bring with you to this wonderful event?” The silver haired stranger turned his gaze to Zanka for the first time, and the brunet forced himself to remain where he stood, looking directly at the man in front of them.

“This is…” Enjin started, quickly stopping himself when he noticed he didn’t have to say a thing, his plus one not shying away from the sudden attention coming his way.

“Zanka Nijiku,” Zanka introduced himself, giving a polite bow before locking his gaze onto the unknown man again, “I’m delighted to make your acquaintance," he said, giving the practiced smile his mother had told him to refine over and over again, as if she was training a robot instead of her child.

He felt Enjin’s eyes on him, but he didn’t turn to look at him, still focused on the old man.

“My, what a catch, right Enjin? You did well with this one!” He chuckled, placing his wrinkly hand on the exact same spot Enjin had carefully touched him earlier in the car before turning back to the blond, “Great to see you again, son. Enjoy the alcohol,” he said with a wink before walking off.

Zanka finally looked at Enjin, who now seemed properly irritated.

“Didn’t even introduce himself…” the taller man muttered before peering down at Zanka, who was now touching his own cheek. The brunet wasn’t sure what to do, so he just smiled, even if it felt a bit awkward.

Enjin didn’t say anything, but he unlinked their arms and instead wrapped his own around Zanka’s waist, pulling him just a bit closer.

“Enjin?” Zanka couldn’t help but call out his name at the sudden move, and the blond clicked his tongue.

“Don’t want another old fart touching you after having picked up and eaten a dried out hors d'oeuvres with his bare hands."

“How barbaric. Please protect me from any filthy fingertips,” Zanka teased before he could think about the consequences, seeing Enjin frown a little more before looking down at him again.

Zanka was trying not to laugh, which instantly changed Enjin's mood to something more familiar.

“Listen here, you,” he leaned down, poking and prodding at Zanka’s side until the shorter man had trouble staying upright without breaking out in a fit of giggles, “You have no idea how many times that lousy excuse of a chairman washes his hands. What if you break out?” he helped Zanka retain his balance when Enjin felt he’d scolded him enough, and Zanka was now covering his mouth with both his sleeves to remain quiet and not draw attention.

“I’ve never had an acne problem,” Zanka said from behind the fabric, still feeling a bit daring.

“Figured. Your skin is too perfect,” Enjin said with an amused huff and stood back upright, guiding them further into the room. Zanka was still hiding behind one of his sleeves, because of course he’d failed to stop himself from blushing at the lightest compliment this man could ever give.

Typical…

He looked around the room, wondering how many people knew Enjin. Judging by their first interaction with the old guy, he was pretty well known despite the fact he’d said he wasn’t from around here, and Zanka secretly hoped they could sneak off somewhere more hidden, because he liked spending time with Enjin more than having to introduce himself over and over again to people he honestly wouldn’t remember by the end of the night.

But, this wasn’t just some college party, and Enjin had to make sure people knew he was present before he had the freedom to do whatever he wanted, which meant approaching, or getting approached, by all sorts of big wigs, while Zanka’s job was to make sure he wouldn’t embarrass Enjin.

Zanka mentally prepared himself, knowing that things would get exhausting quickly.

Chapter Text

Zanka did not miss the boisterous display of wealth in the slightest. The shallow conversations, hinting at disdain for common folk, while under the guise of being here with the intention to donate to a good cause. It was all for show, and Zanka quickly came to hate it all over again.

His smiles wavered throughout the night, his lighthearted replies turned more scarce, and his head was pounding with every conversation added to Enjin’s repertoire. He’d failed to reply to the blond’s attempts to distract him after the last interaction in which a woman kept glaring at him like he was a piece of trash to be shredded while feeling Enjin up like he was some sort of solution for her own husband’s celibacy.

He was prepared for being treated as just some kind of noname tagalong, because that was who he was, but his mood took a nosedive the more he remembered just how much it was like his past. Constantly abiding to other people while they secretly thought he was just some brat born with a silver spoon, having to act like an adult when he was simply a child that had yet to scrape his knees on the outside ground while playing and running in the mud to catch frogs, instead locked away in a dojo repeating the same drills over and over again long into the late night hours only to come back inside the house for another lecture that lasted too long for him to pay attention to, resulting in either being called a waste of a son or a mistake walking the earth.

Zanka was nineteen, now, but having been denied a healthy, normal life for superficial power he’d been told was to be his in the name of his parents’ façade truly was like being trapped, the bars keeping him from acting out simply being his father’s verbal abuse since the man never thought him worthy of continuing his legacy from the start. Even his siblings turned a blind eye, too busy to keep their family name clean from any and all negativity. He’d received no protection from anyone, and every time he tried to do something about it, things would only get worse.

So he ran away, not looking back. It wasn’t like they’d lost anything, given the fact they were so eager to remove his existence from their perfect little family, and his only memories of them were their disdain towards him. Still, those words were engraved into his mind and mirrored in his behavior, his endless chase to get recognized always following him.

Enjin had just talked to the host to confirm the amount donated would have been on Corvus’ name, since he was to be a stand-in for the man. Zanka had trouble listening to the words, having long since started to fight his eyes to focus, the effort increasingly becoming more and more draining. His day had been nothing but chaos, which was now biting back at him by making him feel like he was being pulled down by a ton of weight, tugging at his mind and body with the addition of once again, zero sleep in his night hours.

Zanka sighed behind his sleeve to hide his weariness but still let out that frustration piling up, noticing yet another woman come into their personal bubble. How many was that? He’d lost count, and for some reason each and every one of them started to irritate him more and more, their awful attempts at flirting with Enjin truly grating to his ears, even though the blond always found a way to steer the conversation into a different direction. He wondered if Enjin had to put up with this every single day at work. What a drag. He just wanted to push everything and everyone away, visions of the people from his past merging into the present, the wall he’d carved out to keep them away seemingly cracking by the minute. It was just some party, why was it so difficult to endure?

“Tell me if it gets too much, okay?”

Zanka inhaled, exhaled, looked around, feeling the room close in on him like it did so often when he lost the race to stay ahead of the endless dredge in his head.

He gently tugged on Enjin’s sleeve, eyes glued to the ground, a futile attempt to keep his anxiety in check.

As if he activated an escape button, Enjin waved off the woman with an excuse about using the restroom, completely sidelining her and bringing Zanka to the balcony, away from prying eyes within seconds. Everyone was inside, enjoying the music and getting ready for the announcements and speeches. They were all alone surrounded by the potted plants and many seating options, the sky clear and showing a myriad of stars. A gentle breeze brushed his hair out of his face before it slowed to a complete stop.

“You okay, Zanka?” Enjin asked when he sat the brunet down on the loveseat by the wall, crouching down in front of him.

“Yeah…” Zanka said quietly. He just needed some time away from the noise. He’d be fine. He had to be. He was doing Enjin a favor, and he couldn’t afford to freak out on him after he agreed so readily to accompany him. It’d be rude.

“Can I get you a drink?” The blond took Zanka’s hand, playing with his fingers a little to keep him on the ground instead of letting him float down into to the depths of his mind. It helped somewhat, watching Enjin focus on him like that.

The brunet shook his head at the question, squeezing his hand around the taller man’s own. A selfish, unvoiced request to keep him from leaving his vision.

“Just wanna chat?”

He nodded.

“Alright. Let’s stay here for a while, then we’ll ditch the place,” he stood up, letting himself drop into the seat next to Zanka and pulling him a bit closer, but not constricting. Zanka could smell his cologne together with the lingering scent of tobacco, and he was reminded of the week where he’d been propped on the couch watching movies with him, both tangled in an oversized and patchy blanket that was made of wool but not scratchy at all. There was probably not a world of events that could make him forget that week, his own little happy place that he tended to retreat to when things overwhelmed him.

He relaxed slightly, letting his head fall against Enjin’s chest. His heartbeat was steady, unwavering. Just like the rest of him, a total opposite of Zanka’s chaotic existence. He only hoped he could be as confident as Enjin, the way he always knew what to do.

“You smell good…” the brunet vaguely heard himself say, nudging his nose a bit closer. He honestly had no idea why he was doing it, but the wave of exhaustion together with the way Enjin was so close to him made it feel like he was back on that couch, far away from all his worries, his past, and the people who hated him.

“Yeah?” Enjin's voice rumbled in his chest, sending a shudder up Zanka’s spine. He nodded slowly, every breath bringing him further away from the creeping panic attack that threatened to take over his senses inside the ballroom, instead replaced by a deep fatigue washing over him, bit by bit.

Enjin let him stay close, seemingly unbothered by his proximity. Zanka tried to concentrate on the ink on the blond's neck, together with the creases in his shirt, for once completely hiding his chest. He’d almost grown used to the darkness sweeping along the taller man’s skin, and he found himself feeling a smidge of disappointment at the fact it was nearly fully hidden by clothes. He’d been wanting to get a better look at them, always drawn to it.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, Zanka just listening to the steady rhythm of Enjin’s heart, but he got pulled out of his daze slightly when Enjin’s hand gently stroked his hair, the soothing motion making him lean into the touch just a tad.

“You’re alright,” Enjin softly told him, “you’ve done amazing all night, I’m impressed,” he kept going, that baritone voice quickly having become one of Zanka’s preferred sounds. Lately, every time his anxiousness became overwhelming, Enjin seemed to be right there, warding off the feeling. He closed his tired eyes at the compliment, cherishing it like he did with all the other ones Enjin liked to give him.

The blond kept showering him with soft-spoken words, living up to Zanka’s request to stay and talk. Zanka never responded, but it didn’t matter. Enjin was content just speaking for them both, not a care in the world for anything happening around them, much like Zanka, who felt the last bit of his panic seep out of him as he took a deep breath, the woody scent of the man close to him filling his lungs.

He opened his eyes slowly when Enjin trailed his other hand along his waist, different than when he kept him close just to avoid anything like their first interaction of the night. It was deliberately careful, the way he traced along the creases of his clothes.

He tilted his head up, seeing Enjin smile down at him with that same fond expression he’d seen earlier tonight. The blond looked at Zanka like he was more than what he’d been told all his life. Yet another question mark to that growing pile he had no idea how to sort. Nevermind the touches, always with purpose. To make Zanka focus on the feeling and comfort him, or to keep him away from unsavory things. The words from nearly a week ago still lingered in his mind, yet the way he left that coffee shop, wondering why him, was the most prominent thing on his mind ever since they’d parted ways.

He wanted to ask, but he had no way of phrasing exactly what he wanted to say due to his perpetual confusion when it came to all the kindness Enjin displayed. It pulled him out of his cloudy haze just a bit, remembering all over again that they were in the middle of the charity event.

“Feeling a bit better?” The blond asked, which brought him out of his stupor, and Zanka realized he’d been staring for a while. He averted his eyes like he’d just been caught doing something he shouldn’t, and he quickly nodded.

“Thank you…” he said quietly, not aware of the fact he’d been holding onto Enjin’s shirt until now. When had he…

“Ready to get the hell out of here and order a ridiculous amount of fast food?” Enjin pinched his ear a little, eliciting a small hiss from the brunet, who now looked up at him with furrowed brows.

The taller man laughed at his miffed expression, the sound traveling straight through Zanka’s entire body, which made him remember exactly what he’d been doing. He let go of the blond like he’d been burned, smoothing down his sleeves in embarrassment.

“Let’s go,” he said quickly, standing up and waiting for Enjin to follow him, but refusing to look at him. He was so stupid, what was wrong with him?

Enjin however took his sweet time, standing up and sliding his hand right back around Zanka’s waist.

“We’re gonna make a run for it, alright? If anyone asks, tell them you forgot to water your fish or something,” Enjin shrugged before opening one of the double doors leading back into the ballroom, and Zanka immediately got assaulted with noise, unable to respond to Enjin’s ridiculous words.

He stayed close to the blond, who moved with purpose and easily, nearly got them out of the open area, though the woman from before noticed them and her whole face became sharp, like she’d spotted her target.

“Aw, dammit–” Enjin said, his face remaining passive though Zanka could hear the annoyance bleeding from his voice.

“Enjin,” she said once she closed in on them, “where is Corvus? I’d been told he was to attend. I need him to–”

“Sorry,” he quickly cut her off, trying to pass by her, “I got a really bad stomach ache, so–”

“It’s about the target,” she crossed her arms, cocking her head to the side, “I assume you’re his stand-in, which I am not particularly overjoyed by.”

Enjin stiffened, eyes widening just a smidge. Zanka only noticed it because he’d already been looking at him.

“Send it to Semiu if it’s urgent,” he said, ignoring her loose jab at his competence, “I’m done for the night.”

“You’re slacking off again?” She held up an envelope between her fingers, moving them so Enjin could see the writing on the back of the paper.

“Aren’t you curious?”

Enjin pressed his lips together, looking around briefly before snatching it from the woman’s hand and stuffing it in his inner jacket pocket.

“Next time, just send HQ a damn email,” he told her harshly, and Zanka was now furrowing his brows at the strange interaction. Who was this woman?

“That wouldn’t be as amusing,” the lady scoffed, “Have fun with your toy,” she winked at the taller man, her eyes moving to Zanka, “It might be quite a challenge for to please him, though, given that you’re not his type at all,” she gave the brunet a mocking smirk before she moved to walk away with a casual wave, but Enjin was quick to grab her wrist, giving her a rough pull towards him.

“You will treat him with respect,” Zanka could hear him say to her with that same poorly hidden hostility in his voice, but his back was turned to him, and all Zanka could see was the brief flash of fear striking the woman’s features before she yanked her hand back and gave them both a venomous glare, storming off.

Enjin turned to Zanka after he seemingly collected himself, offering his hand with a smile, as if what just happened wasn’t real. Even though he no longer wore any of the anger directed at the stranger they’d just ran into, he, too, seemed tired of all the audacity.

Zanka placed his palm on Enjin’s, strangely not all that bothered by the words thrown his way just a moment ago. He was ready to tell her just how much of a hag she was, but Enjin was faster, much to his surprise. Before this, only Riyo had ever really stood up for him while he was forced to take shit from others. Because he was always alone, he’d grown to quickly lose his temper around people that disrespected him, but now, he felt… happy. Happy that Enjin wouldn’t let anyone walk over him.

“Burgers or pizza?” Enjin asked in the elevator once the door closed on them. The button-pressing guy from before briefly eyed them before taking them to the lobby, and Zanka pondered.

“Pizza,” he said, looking at himself in the mirror covering the wall. He looked the same as when he left his apartment, but somehow his exhaustion still showed in his eyes despite the make-up hiding his sleep deprivation. Nevertheless, Riyo had done a good job, seeing how well everything held up.

He switched over to watching Enjin, who was standing with his hands in his pocket, jacket now tucked between his arm and his waist, his head tilted back slightly while he watched the elevator number go down.

It wasn’t long until the blond noticed him staring, and Zanka saw him give a lazy grin before he looked at the elevator’s descent as well, just to stop his eyes from being glued on Enjin’s face.

Soon after, the valet showed up with Enjin’s car, the taller man holding the door open for him to get in after taking the keys from the man. Once Zanka was seated, Enjin did the same, driving off without another glance at the property behind them.

It was quiet for a few minutes before Enjin handed Zanka his phone, and on the screen was a local pizza place he recognized easily. It was where he used to grab food from all the time, since it was always cheap and perfect for an easy meal.

“Don’t be modest. I’m absolutely starving,” Enjin said languidly, and Zanka agreed. He hadn’t had anything since breakfast before his morning classes, and his stomach rumbled at the sight of all the pictures of food presented to him.

He was scrolling away when his eyes became heavy, and he truly tried to order the pepperoni pizza menu, but it was like something cast a spell on him, sleep coming quickly at the sound of Enjin absentmindedly humming a song, the turn signal of the car fading as he lost the battle against himself to stay awake, the hold on Enjin’s new phone slipping, hands and device falling onto his lap.

When Zanka opened his eyes, he was staring at a familiar ceiling. He had no idea about the time, and when he sat up, he realized he was still dressed in his Kimono, but the sash had been removed, and he found Riyo’s decorative hairpin on the nightstand next to him.

Zanka slowly got up, not having a clue about the time once again. He guessed it must've been close to midnight.

Wrapping his clothes more securely around his frame, he perked up a little when he heard some clutter from behind the door, so he approached it and opened it, peeking through the opening–

Which was a mistake, because Enjin was standing there, freshly showered and only wearing a pair of loose black jogging pants, his hair a messy array with his bangs covering his forehead as opposed to his usual style. His tattoos were now on full display as the only thing covering them was a single towel draped over his neck. He was brushing his teeth, turning the tap on and off repeatedly in boredom.

Zanka was too busy ogling the art that covered his body, seeing that he even had another separate piece on his stomach peeking out from his visible side, that he didn’t notice a pair of golden eyes land on him.

“Oh, there you are,” Enjin smiled, spitting out the toothpaste and picking up a glass sitting on the sink to rinse his mouth.

Zanka made a very manly noise upon being discovered, quickly closing the door. He heard Enjin chuckle at his antics, and Zanka smacked his face lightly a few times, just to try and force his stupid blush down. Always. Always.

It was like he was perpetually embarrassed by his own idiocy when he was near Enjin. What was wrong with him? First feeling him up at the party and now ogling his naked body?!

He couldn’t even fully process what he saw when he heard a knock on the door, followed by Enjin’s voice.

“I know you like to hide yourself in the bedroom, but even shut-ins have to eat. I saved you a whole pizza,” the blond said, which completely made Zanka throw his earlier dilemma out of the window upon hearing eat and pizza.

He quickly opened the door again before Enjin even had time to walk off, almost smacking the door in his face. He was fully dressed now, and somewhere in Zanka’s head there was a voice complaining about it, though it was quickly squashed down by his stomach screaming out for him to fill it up.

“That’s more like it,” Enjin grinned, and Zanka followed him to the living room, still full of the organized chaos from the apartment’s true owner. He was really, really hungry for that pizza.

Zanka had half a mind to check his phone, seeing that it was currently 1 am. He didn’t know when they’d left the place, but he did feel a little better after having slept for what he assumed was more than an hour.

The blond was quick to fix Zanka his food, and before he knew it, he was parked on the couch with a plate full of beautifully unsymmetrical, cheap and greasy pizza slices.

Zanka didn’t stop himself from smiling at the repeat of it all. He had a feeling Enjin completely ignored the kitchen island or dinner table that was conveniently placed in the open space, instead gravitating towards the comfortable furniture and the big tv that he liked to play true classics on.

This time was no different, and like a routine, they each had their own corner, the blanket already being thrown over Zanka’s weary body after Enjin told him to keep his arms up for just a second.

“Hey, Zanka,” Enjin said after he visibly relaxed, turning up the volume and sipping from a can of beer, “Let’s never do that again,” he grimaced, and Zanka wholeheartedly agreed while munching on his microwaved pizza slice, just the way he liked it. He tasted the spicy pepperoni and extra cheese, wondering if Enjin just completed his order after he passed out or guessed it, since he was somehow really good at guessing what Zanka liked.

“Next time, I’m taking you somewhere actually fun. Like an arcade,” he tilted his head to the side, furrowing his brow and closing his eyes, “or a movie.”

Zanka wanted to point out that he kind of felt too old to go to an arcade, but honestly, he would probably get a blast out of watching Enjin try to operate all the machines. He knew a place Riyo told him about, but before he could bring it up, Enjin opened his eyes.

“Ah,” the blond made a sound as he stared at the ceiling, like he was figuring out the meaning of life.

Zanka raised a brow at him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, watching Enjin’s eyes slowly close again, like he’d forgotten something crucial.

“I forgot to bring you your drink,” he deflated completely.

“Are you my maid?” Zanka mused, and this time he was the one who caught Enjin off guard.

“No, but you deserve some service after all that,” he gestured vaguely with his hands, ultimately dropping them and standing up, but not before passing behind the couch where Zanka sat, carding his hand through the brunet’s hair, as if it’d become a habit.

“It’s all fake in there, by the way. The donation money gets pocketed by the government and the people spending their money get status and protection,” the blond told him, and Zanka turned around, placing his plate on the headrest of his seat and watching Enjin go about his self-given task.

“I know that, but why did you end up going?” the brunet couldn’t help but wonder.

Enjin looked up at him with a grin.

“To make it seem like we’re upstanding citizens, of course,” he closed the cap of the coke bottle once he was done pouring Zanka’s drink, bringing it back to him. He made sure Zanka held onto it steadily before sitting back down and hiding his lower body under the blanket, resuming the movie at the same time Zanka thanked him, finishing half of it at once.

“Aren’t you?” Zanka furrowed his brows, and Enjin chuckled.

“‘Course we are. But some people don’t agree, which is why we make sure nobody can sabotage us,” he said, taking another sip of his beer.

“Hmm,” Zanka replied, digesting the lick of info.

He finished his dinner while actually getting pretty immersed into the movie, but his body was starting to protest at sitting upright, and he’d been adjusting his posture a few times now.

After the fifth time of him moving around, he knew Enjin was going to say something, with the way his golden eyes raked over him, and Zanka was prepared to give an excuse since he wanted to actually finish the movie, but words never came.

Instead, Zanka felt Enjin reach for him under the blanket, grabbing onto his ankles and swiftly pulling him, causing him to try and hold onto the pillows to no avail. He ended up laying on the couch, his feet now resting on Enjin’s lap.

Zanka blinked a few times. Legs. Lap.

Enjin’s lap.

Hands around his ankles, Enjin was now idly fidgeting with the seam of his socks while he watched the movie and acted like he didn’t just startle the hell out of Zanka.

With everything that had happened today, somehow Enjin still found plenty of ways to surprise him, and Zanka felt like he needed to pull his legs back so he could stop bothering the blond, but when he realized that Enjin didn’t seem inconvenienced in the slightest, he tried to relax, looking back at the screen, the plot hooking him back in no time.

That’s how they spent the next minutes, Zanka gradually fighting to stay awake due to the gentle feeling of Enjin’s fingers trailing along his skin, both of them quiet with only the tv disturbing the silence in the living room. It seemed his nap wasn’t nearly enough for him to recharge, his eyes gradually falling shut. He couldn’t recall a time before meeting the blond where he truly felt so at ease, his mind for once not supplying any doubts and worries.

Enjin didn’t think of him as a burden. That much was clear.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Zanka was still laying on the couch. He blearily opened his eyes when he heard some noise he couldn’t decipher and instantly felt like he was hit with several bricks upon regaining his consciousness. His migraine was back, and he slowly exhaled, trying to calm his messed up brain down.

No doubt it was because of all the unwanted stress catching up to him once again. He usually felt worse after getting a good night’s rest when it’d been a fight to even close his eyes before, everything catching up to him in waves and causing his mind to struggle with processing it all.

It didn’t really help that it seemed the only place he truly managed to sleep undisturbed was Enjin’s nowadays, which made him pull at his hair a little. What was he doing, leisuring around with a guy he’d only known for a few weeks, sleeping at his place and even going to parties?

He had other things to worry about.

Looking around, he seemed to be alone, but upon staying still for a bit longer to collect himself, he heard voices.

He couldn’t make out what they were saying, but it sounded like Enjin, and another unfamiliar voice belonging to a woman.

Zanka frowned a little, getting up and remembering all over again that he was still in his disheveled kimono. He quickly wrapped his clothes around himself in an attempt to sort it out, going to the bedroom to receive the rest of his clothes.

He was so worried about looking presentable that when he opened the bedroom door, he failed to realize he’d walked right into the source of the argument that seemed to be happening.

Two sets of eyes instantly fell on him, Enjin looking surprised while a black woman slightly shorter than himself was adjusting her glasses to get a better look at him. Her hair was short and also completely white, making her hazel eyes stand out more, thick eyelashes fanned downwards slightly when she set her gaze upon him.

“Zanka,” Enjin said, eyes a little wide at his sudden appearance.

Zanka’s face blanched, and he had no excuse for barging in other than the fact he was just…stupid. For failing to realize the noise had come from in here, as opposed to the study.

“I– I’m so sorry,” he quickly scurried back and tried to retreat, but the woman held up her lower arm, elbow cradled in her other palm. The gesture was as if she wanted to stop him, and it did exactly that. He was left holding onto the doorframe with confusion written all over his face.

“Don’t be scared, boy. There is nothing to apologize for,” she told him with a blank face, “You were granted leisure to freely move about by this oaf here, yet he didn’t inform you I’d be visiting today," She turned back to the taller man after effectively freezing Zanka’s feet to the ground, adjusting her glasses once more before she continued and seemingly not caring about getting a response from the brunet. He heard Enjin click his tongue, accompanied by golden eyes staring up at the ceiling, clearly not liking either her choice to stop Zanka from leaving or her judgment towards him.

“In any case, Enjin,” the woman lightly tapped his chest with the back of her hand to get his attention back onto herself, “I need you to go there tomorrow. If what Rena said is true, we need to act fast.”

“Alone, I presume,” Enjin didn’t look happy at her conclusion, and Zanka felt like he was a fly on the wall. A very small, small fly, too uninteresting to swat away.

“They know everyone’s faces except yours,” she shrugged, looking over at Zanka, who straightened up a little at her challenging eyes.

“And his,” she smiled at him once more, and for some reason it sent a shiver down his spine.

“It could be interesting, you know he’s–”

“Absolutely not,” Enjin cut her off and grabbed her shoulder, opening the bedroom door wide while pushing her out of the dimly lit area. Zanka had to quickly step aside to let them pass, and he caught Enjin’s gaze for just a second.

He looked exhausted. Irritated, even.

Zanka furrowed his brows, leaning out of the doorframe and watching Enjin guide her all the way to the entrance.

“I’ll come by later today, and then I’ll go, alright?” He told her, which ended up in her looking at Zanka a third time. One too many, Zanka thought. It was like she was dissecting him with her eyes.

“Don’t be too late. I only have so much patience,” she said to the blond, and with that let herself out, the door slowly closing behind her. Enjin stood there for a moment, leaning forward and letting his head hit the dark wood separating his apartment from the common hallway.

Zanka tore his gaze away from Enjin after he heard him sigh and slowly went back into the bedroom, grabbing his sash and tying it around himself. He took the zori that were set at the foot of the bed by Enjin last night, sitting down on the mattress and absentmindedly fidgeting with the strap. He felt like he’d intruded on something important. Clearly it had affected Enjin, but he still couldn’t figure out why that stranger didn’t encourage Zanka to get the hell out of their private conversation.

He didn’t quite like how she included him in it at the end, either.

He sighed. Yet another mystery. How many did that make now? His head was pounding, and he’d ask, but it just felt… off. It all felt off. The fact Enjin didn’t introduce her like he did with Rudo, or the fact that Enjin didn’t want her to finish that one sentence.

Enjin knew that he was what? Familiar with the city? Looking for a job?

He ultimately stood up, deciding that no, this wasn’t his business. He didn’t like it when people looked too far into his life, and he respected Enjin. He didn’t want his curiosity to get the better of him and strike a nerve.

When he entered the hallway again, Enjin was gone, but the balcony door was open. Zanka guessed he went for a cigarette, so he padded his way over to the glass door. He was proven right when Enjin was leaning against the railing, his arms crossed as he looked at one particular spot in the cityscape, eyebrows knit together in a slight frown.

“I’m sorry for barging in earlier,” Zanka spoke up, “I wasn’t fully awake yet.”

Enjin seemed to have been deep in thought as he only turned his head to look at Zanka after a few seconds passed, narrowing his eyes a little as if he was trying to figure something out. He looked tense, no doubt still from before. Enjin had been raising his voice and the woman matched him. They’d only gone back to normal volume once Zanka waltzed in, both of them clearly caught off-guard.

Ultimately, Zanka saw him relax and smile, walking up to the brunet with a clear plan swimming around in his head.

“I know just what you need to wake up, then,” his smile turned into a grin, and Zanka felt himself grow weary. He stepped back a little when he watched Enjin zero in on him, his cigarette abandoned on the cement flooring. It all happened so fast he barely had time to look down when Enjin lowered himself, causing Zanka to look down at him in alarm.

“Wha–Woah!” Zanka couldn’t ask what the hell Enjin was doing since he was promptly lifted into the air by a set of strong arms around his thighs, and he panicked, grabbing onto an array of wild blond hair in a desperate attempt not to fall, letting out a surprised (very manly) yelp when he started walking.

“Enjin!” Zanka cried out, never having been carried like this a day in his life. He was looking around quickly before his eyes fell back on the crown of blond hair, trying to find some purchase as he reached out one hand to land on top of Enjin’s shoulder.

Enjin laughed boisterously as he paraded him around back inside, letting out a string of ow’s when Zanka almost tore his hair off. Enjin carried him around through the kitchen and almost got steered into the couch by Zanka’s attempts to wriggle free, but Enjin’s build wasn't just for show. He was strong, and that thought alone made Zanka’s dizzy brain flash with the reminder of Enjin’s naked chest and inked arms, muscles flexing as he leaned over the bathroom sink to brush his teeth.

This isn’t the time to bring all that up–

“Put me down!” The brunet yelped, and he felt his balance tip, the ceiling coming into view before Enjin caught him with the biggest smile he’d ever seen from the other man. Zanka was now staring up at him, slowly realizing the way he was being held, his own arm clinging around the back of Enjin’s neck, his hold abandoned but still resting against a set of strong muscles.

Wait, were those dimples? How had he not noticed them before?

His face exploded into redness, and he hid behind the fabric of his clothes, eternally grateful for the small mercy his kimono could give him. He wasn’t sure he could stare at Enjin looking down at him so fondly for another second, holding him like– like he was–

Some kind of bride…

The fun seemed to be over when Enjin noticed his embarrassment had made him as good as unresponsive, so he set Zanka down neatly on the floor in front of the bathroom, still looking extremely pleased with himself when he briefly locked eyes with the brunet, despite Zanka’s pissed off glare shooting straight at him and then off to the ground.

“You didn’t have to pick me up–” Zanka started, but Enjin cut him off, not hearing his complaints.

“Take a shower,” Enjin said through his happy little display, making Zanka huff, hiding his arms in his sleeves and refusing to look up. 

Enjin didn’t seem to mind his annoyance as he kept going, even ruffling Zanka’s hair, which only resulted in the brunet’s eyebrows pulling together in more confused annoyance.

“I’ll order breakfast and then I’ll drop you off at your place. Sounds good?” He compromised, stepping beside Zanka and leaning against the wall, searching for blue eyes.

“Fine,” Zanka still didn’t give in, feeling his face fail to lose its red hue, “but don’t do that again!” He didn’t wait for whatever Enjin would say, throwing open the bathroom door and locking himself inside, instantly forced to take in his disheveled appearance due to the big mirror lining the wall.

He looked a total mess, head to toe. His clothes had slipped off of one of his shoulders and his head was sporting a bird’s nest due to Enjin’s treatment.

Zanka bit his tongue, undressing himself with jerky movement and starting the shower. He took out the messy braid on the side of his head, or whatever was left of it, and stepped under the hot stream, his mind unable to get rid of the feeling of Enjin’s arms holding him like he was light as a feather.

Goddamn brute, doing whatever he wanted…

Even Zanka had his pride.

As he allowed the stream to fall down on him, he slowly calmed down, but he couldn’t help but feel a little out of the loop, his mind circling back to the unknown woman again. Her eyes were looking at him in a way he couldn’t truly decipher, but he did know one thing from that whole interaction.

She was gauging his potential. And Enjin didn’t want her to.

He couldn’t make sense of it all, even when he turned off the tap and dried himself off.

An extra set of spare clothes and Enjin’s flip-flops later, Zanka was sitting on the couch with the blond standing in front of him, on the verge of forgiving him when he saw a matcha latte being waved around in his face.

“Hey, stop pouting,” Enjin said through his shit-eating grin, “I got you bagels.”

Food, unsurprisingly, made Zanka fold. Enjin knew he’d won when he opened the bag of takeout and gave the brunet the choice between a blueberry and chocolate chip bagel, Zanka slowly reaching for the blueberry one and ending up having it shoved into his hand before he could change his mind about giving in.

Enjin did the same with the latte, finishing the bagel he was left with in two bites and disappearing into the hallway, probably to gather his things.

Zanka really tried to stay annoyed, but the sugar of his drink melting on his tongue together with the sweet breakfast ebbed his mood into something less unsightly. He was hungry, stuffing his face and lamenting the fact that even though his coffee cup had been huge, it still didn’t feel big enough for his liking.

Minutes passed until Enjin returned to his side, having changed his own clothes and carrying a duffelbag. His hair was mostly hidden under a black baseball cap, the rest of his clothes matching in lack of color. Strangely he was holding the worn-out umbrella Zanka remembered from a while back. It was frayed on the ends and genuinely looked to be on the verge of breaking apart. Was it going to rain today?

“You got your stuff?” Enjin asked before he could dwell on it too much, and Zanka nodded, taking his plastic bag given to him by Enjin (together with the comfortable sweatpants and hoodie) holding the clothes he’d worn to the party.

He looked up at the blond when he stood up, struggling to say what he wanted, though ultimately he was able to open his mouth.

“Thank you,” he said dutifully, which caused Enjin to sigh with a smile.

“Stop thanking me for stuff already. I know you’re grateful, you don’t have to keep repeating yourself, alright?” He said, reaching up to Zanka’s face and trailing his thumb along his cheekbone.

“Alright,” Zanka complied, closing his eyes at the soft touch. He wanted to lean into it, but he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to, so he stood there, stomping down the thoughts of wanting Enjin to touch him more, to give him that comfort he sought, away from his blazing migraine and lingering doubts.

He slowly opened his eyes when Enjin’s hand left his face, and his next task was to follow him to the car, back to his home.

Monday rolled around, and Zanka had gotten exactly one email back from every single one he’d sent out. He was sitting outside with Riyo, watching Follo and Tomme, some of Riyo’s friends, play basketball while eating their lunch, or, well…

Zanka eyed the iced latte sitting next to him on the bench, which he’d been told to pick up by a certain blond haired individual before he’d arrive on campus since he’d asked what time Zanka’s classes would start while he was driving him back on Saturday, just to make small talk.

Or so Zanka thought.

So here he was, entertaining Riyo’s lunch break before he would get to his own lecture hall.

He was thumbing through the mail on his phone, his face a picture perfect display of annoyance. That seemed to grab Riyo’s attention, her brows furrowing the smallest bit at witnessing the dip in his mood.

“You okay?” She asked, popping a chip in her mouth.

Zanka showed her his phone, and she hummed while reading it before her head shot up, and she now wore a much more distressed expression.

“This is the only reply you got so far?” She asked, sliding a bit closer to him.

“Yeah,” he said, pocketing his phone, “It’s useless, Riyo. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

She sighed, looking down at the small bag of chips in her hands.

“When’s your rent due?” She asked.

“This Friday,” he gave a mirthless smile, “Kinda wish I hadn’t gone and stopped you from sweettalking that asshole, though I doubt I would’ve been able to handle him with class after what he did to me.”

“Yeah, he’s a real charmer,” she shrugged. “How much is it? I can chip in.”

Zanka shook his head, averting his eyes from her and instead watching the two on court try to win from each other.

“I can’t just ask you for that. I’ll figure it out. Just as I always have,” he said, trying to convince himself just as much as her.

Riyo didn’t speak for a while, the crunching of her chips the only sound between them.

Zanka hated asking for help, hated receiving help and hated being indebted to people. He’d rather walk straight into the pole and learn the hard way than rely on someone else. Yet one person always seemed to bypass those things, and he kept racking up debts by accepting his gifts and kindness. It all felt too natural when it came to Enjin. Like the man had figured him out even better than himself and eased him into the concept of accepting his kindness, bit by bit, day by day. The thought of that quite frankly scared him. He was afraid of taking too much. As if one day it could all be thrown back at him, leaving him stranded with the feeling of being a leech that had just grabbed onto anything that Enjin offered him.

He looked down at his latte, another prime example. Enjin had called the shop before Zanka was even awake that morning, simply texting him when he was on his way to campus that there was something waiting for him at the coffee spot they’d met at before.

“How do I stop telling someone to give me stuff, even if they really want to?” Zanka wondered out loud before he could even register the fact he’d opened his stupid mouth.

his eyes flitted to Riyo nervously, who’d stopped crunching on her chips.

“This about yer man?” she closed one eye as she pointed at him with two fingers dusted in seasoning.

Zanka’s hackles rose immediately, but he couldn’t even reply since Riyo kept talking.

“I think you should keep taking the stuff he gives ya. He likes it, and you seem to make it a bigger issue than it is,” she shrugged. “Does it hurt his wallet?”

Zanka was immediately reminded of the way Enjin paraded around with his money, which seemed like it’d been retrieved straight from the bank and given no extra thought. Additionally, he didn’t even take coins for change because it would simply be a hassle to carry around since he didn’t care about having a wallet.

“No,” he concluded, “but–”

“That’s that, then.”

Zanka glared at her.

“You’re being a pain,” he muttered, stealing her bag of chips and munching on one. She didn’t make an effort to stop him, instead grinning at him before her eyes started to have that familiar glint of trouble.

“Speaking of–”

“No,” he tried to stop her from being nosy, but of course it didn’t work.

“How’d it go? Did he like your pretty look?” she asked, swinging her legs back and forth with a devious smile, “Didya fu–”

He immediately smushed the bag into her face, and she yelped, taking it back with a pout.

“Come on! Lemme in on the details, I worked so hard!” she whined, and Zanka gave her a disgusted glare.

“We went to the party and then ate pizza before I fell asleep! Then the day after he dropped me off since he had to go to work or something!” he yelled at her, feeling his face go red at the fact he, too, was now imagining weird things.

“Seriously?! You’re such a blue ball. Didya at least kiss him before you left?”

“NO!” Zanka stood up, hoping to flee the redhead’s questions, but she immediately followed him.

“Next time, do yourself a favor and just go for it, oka–”

“Zip it, Riyo!” he turned and nearly got the girl to smack right into him. She barely stopped in time, looking up at him unamused.

“Fine,” she said, crossing her arms and looking away.

Zanka’s eye twitched, knowing her tactics of giving him the ‘you win, but at what cost’ treatment.

he looked up at the sky, running a hand down his tired face. He hated when Riyo stopped smiling and being unabashedly herself, even if she was too curious for her own good.

“He called me…beautiful,” he said with great, great effort, “and he, uhm. He–” why was it so hard to say?

Riyo was intrigued, looking at him, pulling the information out of him with her big green eyes.

“He… held me close when we were on the balcony at the party. He does this thing where he always runs his hands through my hair… and back at his place he pulled my legs onto his lap to let me relax,” it felt like pulling teeth. There was no way he could accurately describe what happened outside at the party without him sounding like a fucking idiot, so that would be the best explanation he could give. He would never tell Riyo or anyone else that Enjin carried him around, so carefully holding him and smiling down at him like he was worth a shit.

He looked down at the redhead instead of reliving that moment, and she seemed to be pondering.

“He sounds like he has a lot of patience,” she mused, “You should give him a smooch next–”

“No way in hell!” he had enough, walking away from her. Screw cheering her up.

“Zankaaaa~ your latte!” she called after him, and he felt like this would be a long day, realizing that he had two more classes with her.

Sometimes, people have trouble letting things sink in. Other times, it registers immediately.

Zanka knew from the start that he’d be screwed, but looking at his emails and seeing no replies from any of the job applications, except that one rejection, has left him quite hopeless, having no idea how to get himself back on track to where he was. A month felt like it had passed in the blink of an eye, and here he was, still not a single step further than when he got fired.

Worst of all, his landlord had not replied to his texts and calls, leaving him completely and utterly at the mercy of his rent’s due date.

To say he was freaking out would be an understatement.

He thought that maybe, maybe his landlord wouldn’t ignore him, and maybe he could find a place to work to fix everything nice and neat right before it would all crumble down.

But as expected, one domino falling over let the rest of the entire building collapse.

And he was the building.

Zanka was sitting on his bed, exactly five miserable days after he last saw Enjin, trying to contact his landlord over and over again and still doing his best to find a place that would hire him. It was useless, however, and he was left with the same anger inducing voicemail he’d heard a dozen times now. It drove him mad, the way he had to rely on others to fix the big glaring issue that was threatening to stomp on his very safety. Of course things wouldn’t just go how he wanted them to. He didn’t remember how many jobs he applied for, but none of that would matter anymore since he was out of time.

He tossed his phone to the edge of his bed when the screen turned black, letting himself fall onto his back and trying not to lose his mind.

Staring up at the ceiling, the sound of Enjin’s voice cutting through his steadily growing sea of panic made him close his eyes with a frown.

“Remember what I told you.”

As if he could bring himself to ask him for anything.

Zanka turned to his side, feeling like he truly was a hypocrite, the way he always prided himself on doing things by himself lately, yet here he was, his traitorous mind going straight to the one person he didn’t want to bother with all his crap. It felt like he’d been doing that in strides, constantly relying, taking, taking and not giving back at all.

Once again, he felt like a burden to even attempt to ask advice from someone else, let alone rely on anyone. Throughout his whole life, he would always shoot himself in the foot trying to show just how great he was at figuring things out on his own, only to show exactly the opposite.

Fighting classes, where he thought he could manage without a personal coach his brother seemed insistent on appointing him. He got overwhelmed by a quiet girl that seemed especially uninterested in him once he had to perform in front of his father, and it left him beaten and bruised, yet his ego suffered the most that day, and the many following. He couldn’t even look his father in the eye knowing he set himself up for failure.

Then there was the rejected proposal of starting his own business instead of taking over his father’s after his failed attempt to convince him that Zanka was capable of carving his own path, only to fail right in his face by being unable to even answer his detailed questions resulting in disapproval for the rest of his days spent in the estate.

He couldn’t forget the blunder of trying to impress his family with things other than grades and trophies, and getting laughed at. Ridiculed. Thrown back into the dojo to remove those thoughts about creative freedom with hours and hours of training sessions after receiving a stinging mark on his cheek that hurt more than any punch or wooden sword ever could.

Would Zanka cry? Never.

Not in front of his family.

Yet he had done so in front of Enjin, laying himself bare only hours after meeting him, like he truly had fallen apart at that very moment.

Turns out he could sink even lower.

The frustrations of everything that had been corroding him for years had become so much he couldn’t keep it bottled up anymore, and Enjin had given him a sliver of comfort, a modicum of care which he had no idea how to accept since that very concept was completely alien to him, yet when it presented itself to him, he melted into it without thinking, every single time.

So he cried.

Silent tears trickling down his face, wetting the pillow he laid on when he picked up his phone and gave in, out of ideas. He just wanted that familiar sense of solace, devoid of judgment.

He didn’t even know what to think anymore.

“We’ll figure that out when it’s time for that, okay?”

The ring back sound of Zanka’s phone to let him know the call was going through filled him with a dull sense of dread, like it always did when he felt like he was making a mistake yet couldn’t stop himself. He hadn’t thought about what to say, and there was no plan, but one thing kept him holding onto his phone instead of hanging up. His need to hear Enjin’s comforting voice, even though the humiliation of telling him he couldn’t find a way to fix things was almost worse than stepping into his father’s office just to receive punishment like homework.

“You need to learn discipline, son. This hurts me more than it hurts you.”

He held his breath when the monotone sound cut off, and Enjin picked up.

“Zanka?” Enjin called his name, questioning. Enjin's voice seemed softer than usual, and it made him wonder if he’d called at a bad time.

Zanka powered through, though. Desperate for that sliver of warmth.

“...Hi,” he said, sitting up and trying to wipe the tears from his face. God, he was such a dumbass.

“What’s going on? You alright?” The blond asked, no doubt hearing that he wasn’t. Not really.

“My landlord,” Zanka paused, taking a shaky breath to calm down, “He won’t respond to me.”

Enjin hummed in thought, the sound familiar and grounding. Zanka looked at the laptop laying on his messy sheets, his internet tab opened on his mail, completely deserted from anything new.

“I can’t find a job,” the brunet added, sniffling and hating himself for sounding so obvious.

Enjin didn’t respond for a few seconds, and Zanka only felt his mortification grow. He should hang up. Forget about all of it and just take the fall by himself.

But then Enjin sighed.

“I need you to listen to me, okay?” the blond said, speaking in that tone Zanka remembered from when Enjin was no longer his laid-back, usual self.

Zanka swallowed, looking down at his hand, pulling at the frayed parts of his ripped jeans.

“Okay,” Zanka nodded, even though Enjin couldn’t see him.

“I’m going to finish up what I’m doing, and then I’ll go to your place. You’re not going to argue with me over my solution, and then you’re going to let it go. Deal?” the blond told him, like he was appointing Zanka with a task.

Honestly, it pulled him back to Earth, making him furrow his brows in confusion.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“It means that you’re gonna let me fix this.”

Zanka’s breath caught in his throat, realizing what Enjin meant.

“No, Enjin, I just called to–”

“No arguing, remember? Be good for me, Zanka.”

Be good.

He could be good. He wanted to be, but…

“It’s…” he bit his tongue, closing his eyes tight and running a hand through his messy hair. Was he really going to let Enjin do this? Like it was nothing? Just a snap of his fingers? The issue that had been building up all month, slowly choking him until he couldn’t breathe.

Gone like it never even existed at all.

He truly didn’t know what to do anymore, so he opened his eyes, vision blurring once more as he responded to Enjin’s request.

“Okay,” he said, voice cracking at the end.

“Good boy,” Enjin chuckled, “I’ll be at your door in an hour.”

Zanka gave a small sound of affirmation, lowering his phone and watching the blond hang up.

He let his head hang, feeling overwhelmingly disgusting for having called Enjin like a scapegoat. A solution to his problems.