Work Text:
Zanka's chipped pencil glides across the paper as he signs his name at the end of his brief letter. It was nothing special. To the point, it gets its job done.
He sighs as he folds the paper up. Once. Twice. He writes a name on the top.
Enjin
He sets it on his bed.
He's really doing it this time, huh?
Zanka sighs, deep and heavy. The space around him weighs him down, pushing him further into the mattress.
He shoves a hand in his pocket, fumbling for something. He pulls out a box. Empty.
“Fuckin’ dammit.” He mutters, forcing himself to his feet.
Zanka pulls on a hoodie and grabs a few bills and spare change from a shelf, not bothering to count the exact amount.
He makes his way down the stairs, nearing the kitchen as he does so.
Inside is Enjin.
He's messing around with a frying pan and what used to be eggs, cursing under his breath as he struggles to keep his cigarette in his mouth whilst doing all of this.
“Hey Zanka?” Enjin yells over his shoulder, probably having heard him come down the stairs. “Make sure you let me know what you wanna do for dinner tomorrow alright? It's your eighteenth so don't be afraid to go for something out there y'know?” Enjin finishes his rambling without turning around, and Zanka pauses for a moment, thinking back to the letter in his room.
He was basically already dead. He just wanted a cigarette first, so why bother with trivial questions?
Zanka slipped his shoes on and remained silent as he left the house, door slamming behind him.
He quickly grabbed his bike from where it lay leaning on the wall of their building, then headed off in the direction of his go-to corner store, thankfully managing to avoid Enjin coming outside and berating him for not responding.
-
Zanka let his bike fall to the ground, sure it got banged up, but who was he to care at this moment.
Just a cigarette and he can be done. One last smoke.
It was a bad habit he picked up from Enjin, the man let him try it once, and he ended up sticking up on spares he could get his hands on ever since. Admittedly Enjin probably wouldn't want him doing so but he's already fucked up enough so it should be fine at this point.
The door bell rang loudly as Zanka stepped into the store. He trudged over to the counter and dropped loose change onto the hard surface.
“Pack of Marlboro reds.”
The cashier, who happened to be Zanka's good friend and pseudo-sister Riyo eyed him suspiciously.
“Man Zanka. You really look like shit right now.” She said, trying to get a rise out of him or maybe just making an observation-he couldn't tell.
“Just gimme the damn cigarettes, Riyo.” Zanka muttered, avoiding eye contact or really looking near Riyo in any way.
“Yeeah, no.”
“What?” Zanka looked up at her now, a bewildered expression on his face.
“No I'm not giving you your ‘damn cigarettes'"
Riyo put hand on her hip and stared down at Zanka even more closely, it was unnerving. It felt like she could see every action, every step he took that day, like she read his mind.
He steadied himself.
Of course she can't read your mind you idiot, it's just Riyo, now get the fuckin' cigarettes so you can get on with this.
“You can't refuse service to me Riyo, it's your job to serve me while you're on the clock.” Zanka tried to reason, but Riyo shot back.
“I don't think Enjin would be very happy to learn that you're buying cigarettes again. And aren't you under the legal age to be buying these anyways? 17 isn't old enough just yet, Zanka.” Riyo smirked and Zanka groaned, clearly exasperated.
“Fine.” He grabbed his cash off the counter and left the corner store still missing a cigarette between his fingers.
The city air was rancid, but Zanka was used to it, he rubbed a hand over his face, trying to wipe away exhaustion and failing. Glancing to the side he spotted just what he needed.
A guy he recognised from somewhere- one of his classes maybe- smoking a cigarette and messing with a lighter.
Zanka pivoted, turning towards the guy. “Hey man.” He offered a greeting before immediately asking for a smoke. “Mind if I take one?”
The guy stopped fiddling with the lighter and took the cigarette from his lips and passed it to Zanka. “Sure.”
Zanka hummed in thanks and took a drag, smoke billowing out from his mouth, floating off into the air.
“Hey aren't you in my chemistry class?” The guy asked, bringing out the lighter once more. “Zanka right?”
Zanka paused for a moment, glancing back over. Upon second glance he did recognise this random dude, long dreadlocks, gold cuffs and striking magenta eyes. He wondered briefly if they were contacts or naturally that colour.
“Oh uh, yeah. You're Jabber right?” Zanka responded as he took another drag.
“Ding, ding, ding! Ten points to bad attitude here!” The guy- Jabber as he now knew- grinned at Zanka, another cigarette having appeared in his mouth in the minute or so they'd been sharing the wall together.
“Hey! Whadda ya mean ‘bad attitude’?” Zanka questioned, “All I did was ask for a smoke?”
Jabber tutted slightly, then sighed. “Man you walked up here with that hood up and with eyes that make you look like you haven't seen sleep in weeks. You look like shit.”
“Wow, I really needed another person telling me I look like hell today, now if you don't mind I'll be on my way.” Zanka took one last drag from the cigarette and dropped it on the pavement, stomping it out with his shoe. “Thanks for the smoke.” With that Zanka began to walk off, picking up his bike.
“What're you planning on doing the rest of the day, bad attitude?” Jabber called out to him again and Zanka sighed in annoyance.
Turning back around, Zanka stared Jabber straight in the eyes and deadpanned, “killin’ myself.”
Jabber's gaze didn't falter, he just clicked his tongue and responded back as if it was a normal thing to say on a Wednesday morning. “Well I feel like I'm doin’ that every day.” Zanka was surprised to say the least but he didn't let it show, his jaw was wired shut and his gaze was blank. “Tell ya what, how bout’ we go get some killer pizza, I know a good place.” Jabber motioned for Zanka to follow him, heading the opposite way he was planning on going. A skateboard appeared out of nowhere, and Jabber started riding like it was natural as anything. He didn't even look back, like he trusted that Zanka would follow.
And he did.
-
Jabber threw a hit at the punching bag.
They'd been here for twenty minutes now.
Zanka watching as Jabber landed punch after punch, it was mesmerising. Especially with the way his silver rings glinted in the artificial light with each twist of his hand.
Zanka's thoughts were interrupted by Jabber yelling up to him, “Hey Zan! Wanna try this out? I'll go easy on ya!” Jabber was grinning like a madman and a few drops of sweat shined on his arms.
Zanka frowned from his spot on the stairs, “I thought we were going to get pizza?”
Jabber laughed at that, loud and unapologetic. “Man you funny as hell! Yeah, yeah, we will, just come try this out first will ya?” Zanka begrudgingly left his spot on the stairs and walked up next to Jabber.
“So?” He asked, holding up his arms in a big gesture, which came across as rather lackluster due to his fatigue.
Jabber chuckled again, and Zanka's frown deepened. “Alright first, get that baggy ass hoodie off.” Jabber reached for the hem of Zanka's hoodie, waited a moment then pulled it over his head, tossing it off to the side.
“Hey!” Zanka whined, but he didn't go to grab it, instead staying put and watching Jabber.
“Trust me it makes it easier to maneuver without it.” Jabber explained, then took off his rings, setting them delicately on a nearby shelf before returning to the main mat.
“Okay so, let's do a little sparring alright?” Jabber moved to one end of the mat, and Zanka drifted to the opposite. He knew how to fight, his years with his birth family did that for him, but Jabbed didn't know that. “So first things first-” Jabber began, moving towards Zanka to initiate, but was cut off by a sharp punch to his stomach and Zanka maneuvering him to the floor.
Jabber had the wind knocked out of him with that one, it caught him off guard, and now he stared up at blue eyes, ones that pierced into his skull. He kicked his lips and chuckled. “Damn Zan, didn't know you knew what we were doing. Ya sadist.” Zanka's face contorted at that remark, and his grip on Jabber loosened.
“Sadist? Fuck you on abou-” Zanka was also caught off guard, finding the roles now reversed as Jabber used his legs to flip Zanka over onto the ground, and Jabber on top now.
“Don't drop your focus Zan-Zan,” Jabber giggled and brought his hands to Zanka's shoulders, keeping him there. Zanka squirmed for a moment, then lay still. Jabber's grin persisted for a minute, then faded after Zanka showed no signs of fighting back. “Man,” Jabber began, frowning slightly, grip loosening slightly. He sat back onto Zanka's stomach, and then was flipped again for Zanka was not actually subdued, and had swapped their positions again.
“Don't lose focus, Jabber.” Zanka echoed, then quickly stood up off the mat and wandered off.
“Man, why'd ya stop?” Jabber whined, picking himself off the floor as well and collecting his rings.
Zanka pulled on his hoodie again and ran a hand through his thoroughly disheveled hair. “ I said it already, I have things I need to do.” Zanka stared into Jabber's eyes, and he could've sworn he saw a flicker of something, but he wasn't quite sure what. It was gone in an instant, and replaced by his typical look and another smile.
“ Well how about that pizza first?”
-
Jabber practically moaned as he took a large bite of his pizza, the cheese was melting off the crust, and tens of toppings were piled on top of the one slice.
Jabber swallowed, and Zanka watched it move down his throat.
“Man! This shit is fire! You gonna have some Zan?” Jabber said in-between bites.
Zanka stared at his own slice, simple cheese, no extra toppings. He hesitantly took a bite, chewing slowly and thoughtfully.
Jabber set his slice down, “So??” He asked enthusiastically, fingers tapping on the small table, the rings clanking with each one.
“It's-” Zanka chewed a bit more before responding fully. “It's good.”
Jabber threw his hands up in the air and pushed his chair out from underneath him.
“WOO!” Jabber punched the air, clearly elated to hear approval on his dearly beloved pizza spot. “Hey y'know what Zanka, finish that up real quick I have one more thing I wanna show ya.” Jabber smiled, softer than his previous ones, a hint of that edge still visible, but it wasn't as present.
Zanka finished his pizza quickly after that.
-
The sky had darkened by the time the pair reached Jabber's “spot”. Zanka had no idea how long he'd spent trying to get this over with, but somehow he'd managed to go the whole day without going through with it.
There always is more time though.
The two sat in silence, sitting in the grass staring out to the city skyline. Zanka curled his knees up to his chest and let out a deep breath.
“Do you ever wish things were different?” Zanka blurted, and Jabber shifted slightly to look at him as he continued. “Like if you had just done what you were supposed to, if you were strong enough, maybe if you tried harder-” Zanka paused, his head falling back slightly as he stared up at the stars instead of the skyline.
He heard shifting beside him and a quiet thump, Jabber laying on the grass, staring up at the stars with him.
“I think-” Jabber began softly, but was cut off by a loud ringtone playing from Zanka's pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the contact.
Zanka's heart sank to his stomach.
Enjin
He felt sick.
He was going to throw up, he couldn't do this. Enjin found the letter, he forgot about the letter, no, no, no, no.
Zanka didn't notice Jabber's hand on his shoulder until many moments later.
“Zanka?” His voice was soft, comforting.
Zanka pushed his hand off standing up on shaky legs.
“I-I need to go.” He picked up his bike from where it was discarded on the ground and began to get on.
“Zanka.” Jabber pushed again, standing up as well.
“Zanka wait.” Jabber started forward, but Zanka didn't turn back, he rode off, pushing to go faster he needed to be faster he couldn't do this.
“Zanka!” Jabber's yell was frantic now, it sounded odd coming from him, “Zanka wait, please!” Jabber picked up his skateboard and started pushing off the ground, trying to catch up with Zanka.
It wasn't close, the bike was way faster than the skateboard, but Jabber knew where Zanka was going.
-
The wind was cold on Zanka's face, his eyes hurt with the tears he was holding back.
Weak.
He shouldn't be crying right now.
Zanka reached the bridge and dropped his bike to the ground, nearly tripping over it.
“ Please, please, please.” Zanka choked out, he rushed towards the edge, but it was blocked by a fence.
“No please I need to do this, I can't do this, please” Zanka's throat hurt, but he didn't care. He dug his fingers into the fence and shook it weakly.
“ No, no, no.” Zanka was panicking now, this wasn't how this was supposed to go.
“Fuck,” Zanka sniffles and dragged his sleeve across his face. It stung the frozen surface.
Arma wrapped around his torso, not pulling, just securing.
He could hear police sirens faintly in the distance.
Calloused hands gently peeled his own off of the fence, cold metal brushing against his palm.
His hands hurt, he now realised, and he could feel blood welling up where he gripped the fence too hard.
“Please” Zanka whispered once more, broken.
“It's okay, I've got you, Zan.”