Archive of Our Own

Back all those years ago, on that day in the well, Zanka chose danger.

His life had never been his own. His choices were out of his hands. He had a family name to live up to and a reputation to protect. Every single day was an endless monotony of order, duty, and respect. How he dressed, what he ate, where he spent his time, it was all decided for him, shoehorned onto his shoulders from the moment he was born.

And it all led him to that day in the well. Clutching onto a stick like it could save him. Wishing that the earth would cave and collapse in on him, burying him away forever. Or he could just stay until he starved.

And he might’ve done it too, if it hadn’t been for that stranger. That calm, assured voice, the gentle advice and the warmth. For the first time in Zanka’s life, the presentation of options.

He could stay. Train harder. Become a Hell’s Guard. Live up to his family’s expectations. Prove himself. Remain coddled by his noble status.

Or he could throw it all away for the first person to extend him the grace of choosing something for himself.

The danger was exciting.

A life with the cleaners. Away from home. Away from his family. Away from the academy. All his biggest stresses and worst fears behind him. All he had to do was choose the unknown variable.

Never in his life before that day did Zanka take a risk he couldn’t calculate, dare to venture into a world he knew nothing about.

Never in his life did he think he would leave his title as a Nijiku to be an average person living a more normal life. A life under Enjin’s wing.

When he had finally made up his mind, that was when all his doubts finally faded away. He was confident in his decision. He chose the cleaners. He chose Enjin. He embraced the danger.

And he tumbled down the rabbit hole.

It was the early hours of the morning, well before most people would wake up. Zanka was alone in the training field. Sweat collected in his clothes, a loose and lightweight training garb he preferred over his uniform for simple practice. His muscles ached just right, every breath of fresh air soothing his mind into his single-minded focus. He often came out here when nightmares woke him and left him unable to go back to sleep. It was grounding, just him and his staff and an empty place to hone his skills, watching as the sun brought long, stretching shadows across the open space.

Nightmares always left him feeling shaken up. They brought him back to that prison of a life. Lectures from his family, reminding him of the disappointment that he was. The only thing he wanted to do when he woke up from those dreams was to hit the training field and let the flow of his practice take his mind far away from those thoughts.

His Lovely Assistaff was like an extension of himself, and the weight of it in his hands when he twirled it felt natural, coming like second nature. Forgetting his restraint, he smashed his staff against one of the training dummies, sending the thing flying back in shattered pieces. He paused, planting his staff down and using it to hold himself upright while he caught his breath.

"You hit that thing like it owed you money," came a voice from the sidelines.

Zanka jumped, whipping around to see who was there. His eyes fell on a familiar blond, though the man’s hair was hanging loosely over his forehead instead of styled in his usual spiky updo, and he was still dressed in the casual outfit he’d fallen asleep in. He was nursing a cup of coffee, unsurprisingly with a cigarette between his lips. He must’ve been too focused to hear Enjin come in.

"How long have you been— why are you even awake?" he asked, straightening himself up and deactivating his staff.

Enjin shrugged. "I could ask you the same question. Haven’t been here long. Five minutes, maybe."

"Ah." Well, that was awkward. His early morning training was a time he usually had all to himself. The knowledge that he was being observed, especially by Enjin, left him a little too unnerved to say much.

"You’re improving. I’m proud of you."

Those simple words were enough to lift those anxieties straight off of his chest. He hadn’t totally embarrassed himself in front of his mentor. Enjin thought he was doing well.

"But—"

Of course there was a catch. The bottom of his stomach dropped a little, and his shoulders drew inwards a little, preparing for a scolding.

"—You should be resting. It’s not even 5AM. I can tell you’re tired."

Oh, thank god, it wasn’t a nitpick about his skills. A comment about his sleeping schedule, that he could handle. Good sleep hygiene mattered significantly less to him than keeping his skills sharp did. There weren’t any prizes to be won for sleeping in.

What was surprising was that the blond was awake, given his propensity to party late and sleep in. The older man hated waking up early for missions, so to see him voluntarily out of bed before the sun had even fully crested the horizon was a surprise.

"It’s nothing. I like to get an early start on my mornings, you know this."

"You have bags under your eyes."

Did he really? He frowned, bringing a finger up to lightly brush the sensitive skin under his eyes, as if that’d tell him if Enjin was telling the truth.

"C’mon, let's get you inside. Seems like you’ve been out here long enough."

Zanka shook his head. "No, I’m fine. I’ve got another half hour in me."

"Absolutely not." Enjin fixed him with a sharp look, golden eyes narrowing in a way that suggested that this conversation was immediately over and there was no point in Zanka fighting it. He swallowed under that piercing gaze, lowering his head and his staff. Begrudgingly, he trudged over to the dummy he destroyed, picking up the pieces and carrying them over to the trash bin. Maybe Rudo would find it and fix it up. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Enjin coaxed him inside, the scent of smoke clinging to his pajamas. He had only the faintest trace of cologne on, probably from the previous night. Zanka followed closely by his side, shuffling just far enough away to not be weird. The blond put out his cigarette and held out his cup of coffee, offering Zanka a sip, which he accepted. The place he put his lips was still warm and slightly wet from Enjin drinking it.

He tried not to think too hard about it.

"So, you gonna tell me why you’re up training this early?"

"Maybe when you tell me why you’re up," Zanka countered, handing the cup back over.

"Hmm. Fair enough."

Zanka rolled his shoulders back, reaching behind him and stretching out his sore muscles. "Have to stay sharp. Most of the rest of my day is full, so if I want to get training in, I have to do it early."

Enjin turned, giving him a funny look. "You train with Rudo in the afternoons," he pointed out.

"That’s different," Zanka mumbled, "I like being alone. I can focus on my own improvement."

"You are going to work yourself to death," the older man sighed as they continued to walk. Zanka’s eyes flicked to the side in annoyance, but he didn’t give a response. He didn’t like being scolded, even if it was objectively for the benefit of his health.

That little voice in his head liked to nag at him at the worst times, after all, it still permeated his absent thoughts now, reminders that he needed to train excessively if he wanted to keep up with everyone else. He wasn’t a natural, just some guy with a stick and too much determination for his own good. If he allowed his focus to slip, allowed himself to falter at a crucial moment, allowed himself to slack off like someone who actually belonged to be here could, he might as well just take himself out with the trash before his own coworkers could.

Enjin guided him into the mess hall, guiding him to sit down at a nearby table. The older man took a second mug from the cupboard and filled it with coffee before refilling his own as well. He also dug out a bag of bagels, stuffing one in his mouth and carrying the other in his hand. His slippers echoed against the wooden floor as he walked over to join Zanka, though that was probably because of how quiet it was at this time of the morning. He slid over the fresh coffee and the bagel he hadn’t already bitten.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

"Anytime. Can’t have you passing out from starvation on me. We’ll work on the sleep deprivation next."

"I really am fine. I’m not tired."

Golden eyes shifted his way, fixing him with a gaze that left no room for argument. The dangerous stare made a shiver run down his spine. "How much sleep did you get last night?"

Zanka shifted uncomfortably, but the truth fell from his lips without his ability to stop it. He admittedly had a hard time when it came to lying to his mentor, or even lying at all, if you ignored the fact that he was effectively lying all the time about his own emotionless demeanor. Did masking count as lying? Well, he supposed he was deceiving everyone by being there to begin with, so it must count.

"Three hours. Maybe four."

Enjin clicked his tongue, disappointed. "I don’t have to say it, do I?"

Zanka hung his head. "No," he mumbled, lifting his coffee to his lips to hide his face at least a little bit. Gods, he hated being chewed out.

"Listen," the older man said, his voice deep and stern, still laced with morning gruffness. "I’m only going to say this once. You are a valuable part of our team. You are strong, you are intelligent, you are thorough. I have absolutely no doubts in your abilities. But—"

Zanka’s gaze drifted away, eyeing the walls behind Enjin, then down at their table as the man spoke. Heat rose to his face from the affirmations, exactly the kind of thing he loved to hear from Enjin. He couldn’t help being a tad flustered by it, especially when the man’s opinion mattered so much to him. He startled when Enjin pinched his chin between two fingers, redirecting his gaze back up at Enjin’s fierce eyes.

"You’re no help on the battlefield if you’re collapsed from pushing yourself too hard. Don’t make me bring you to Eishia."

He couldn’t do anything other than stare at the older man. Internally, he registered that Enjin was entirely right. Still though, Zanka wasn’t scared to push his limits. He could handle more than the average person—

Enjin roughly pinched his cheek, his mouth curving into a bit of a pout. Zanka realized now that he had a bit of a stubble this morning too. He really had just rolled out of bed.

"Ow, what was that for?" Zanka swatted his hand away.

"Stop it, I can tell you’re overthinking shit again." Wow. Called right out. He turned away, eyebrows knitted in frustration when he sipped on his coffee. It was weird to think Enjin knew him that well, even if they’d known each other for years now. But the man actually paid enough attention to him to notice that.

Enjin stood up, stretching his arms above him until they gave an audible pop. He swiped his mug up off the table and sighed heavily. "Welp, I’m going to get yesterday’s reports filed before Semiu hunts me down. Might as well, seeing as I’m already up," the man mused, then turned to Zanka. "As for you, go back to your room. Take a shower, read a book, take a nap, whatever. If I catch you in the training room again, I’m putting the next tab at the bar on you."

Zanka balked at the suggestion. "I am not paying for your drinks when I don’t even drink myself."

"Then you’d better not go back to training," Enjin suggested. "Don’t forget, we’ve got a mission in about six hours. I’ll see you at the car. Be rested." He peaced out immediately after, disappearing through the door before Zanka had a chance to protest.

Of course, Zanka could ignore him, retrace his steps and resume where he left off. Conversely, he could also go for a run, which wasn’t expressly forbidden, but he had the feeling that Enjin wouldn’t appreciate the loophole anyway if he somehow found out. He wasn’t usually stern, too wrapped in an air of mystery, charm, and bravado to get strict when he didn’t have to.

Still, he had to wonder why the older man was fussing over him like this. Not that it was entirely unusual behavior for him, he could be a bit protective over his team, sure, but they just didn’t have a lot of quiet, direct conversations about things like their health.

As much as Zanka loved to feel looked out for, he had a pretty hard time accepting it most of the time. Riyo checked in on him frequently, and she had a slightly concerning ability to tell when something was bothering him, but even then, he struggled to open up to her about the things that plagued his mind with the force of a constant, festering infestation. She had suggested once that he speak to Eishia about the feelings he had, but he had cut her off as soon as she mentioned "medication." Funny thing was, she still didn’t even know the half of it.

In the end, he heeded Enjin’s warning, trodding off to his room after he’d had a few minutes to reflect on their conversation in his still slightly groggy mind. He pushed himself through a quick shower to get the grime of training off before sliding into his desk, flipping open his book from where he’d left off.

A knock on his door brought him slowly back to awareness. He was slumped over his desk, his cheek squished against the pages of his open book. He cursed under his breath at the wrinkled pages, quickly straightening them out and closing the book to hopefully help restore its structure.

"Come in?" he called, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. When had he even fallen asleep anyway? He was reading one moment, and waking up the next. It was a bit disorienting.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Enjin chuckled from the doorway. "You should listen to my suggestions more often."

Zanka managed to flip him an inappropriate finger and groan in reply. Sleep had its claws in him, and he was loath to get up when he’d been resting so dreamlessly for once.

"Just thought I should let you know we’re leaving for the cleanup mission in twenty minutes. Just in case."

"Fuck," he sat up immediately, mentally running through the steps he took to prepare for a mission. Usually, he would be awake with no problems by the time they left in the mornings, so he was pretty hurried to start pulling his uniform together.

"…Thanks for coming to tell me," Zanka muttered reluctantly. He hated that Enjin had trapped him into sleeping like that, and that he’d clearly expected it enough to come wake Zanka personally. Though, he could’ve given him a bit more time than twenty minutes. That bastard.

Enjin nodded and left without another word.

The mission was a hard-won victory. Zanka was glad for his nap earlier that morning now, because he was almost asleep on his feet getting back to headquarters after that catastrophe, and he could tell the rest of the team felt about the same. Rudo had that same angry expression that basically defined his face, Riyo was quieter than usual and nursing a bruised rib, and even Enjin seemed pretty wound up by the battle they’d just had, judging from the way he was tensed up at the wheel, tapping on the leather restlessly.

They arrived at headquarters, and before the group could immediately split, Enjin barked new orders. "Riyo, infirmary."

The girl nodded and skittered off, clearly trying not to grab at her rib.

"You too, Zanka."

Well, that seemed entirely unnecessary. Zanka had only sustained a few scratches. Sure, the one that got his leg was pretty annoying, but he could bandage that up himself and walk it off.

"Don’t need to."

Not for the first time today, Enjin stared at him, unimpressed. It made Zanka feel like he was half the man’s height, instead of just a head or so shorter. "Let’s see you walk, then."

Zanka took a step forward from the car, immediately noticing a jolt of pain flare up his leg that made him flinch a little.

"Yep, infirmary."

"But—"

"Go."

Zanka groaned in a way that even he could recognize was aggressively teenage of him to do, but he cooperated nonetheless. Enjin watched his back as he left the garage, definitely taking note of the slight limp. As soon as he was sure he was out of sight, he propped himself up with his staff, using it as a makeshift crutch to make the walk a little easier.

One of the other medics attended to him while Eishia was doing an examination on Riyo. They did about what he expected, bandaging a few of the worst of his scrapes and offering him a few painkillers. He heard how empty the bottle was when she flipped it over to pour it though, so he refused the medication, offering them a white lie that he was feeling perfectly better already. Truly, he didn’t need a couple painkillers to deal with a minor injury, and he’d be exceptionally weak if he actually had felt the need to accept them. If he was like, actively dying, then sure, he’d take some painkillers for it. But otherwise? He didn’t need it. A little pain couldn’t kill him.

As soon as he was released, he made for the mess hall to get something to eat, since he hadn’t had anything other than the bagel way earlier that morning. Surprisingly, he didn’t see Enjin anywhere, so he asked around before he wrapped up and left if anyone knew where to find him. The general consensus was that he was likely in his room working on a report of their mission, so that’s where Zanka went to look.

He knocked once, gently rapping on the door. In stark contrast to Riyo, who liked to pound on Enjin’s door like she was going to break it off its hinges whenever she needed the man’s attention.

No response. Zanka knocked again, a little louder this time. Still nothing.

He hesitated. Enjin had always said he had an "open door policy" when it came to Team Akuta, if they ever needed him for anything, but Zanka wasn’t really coming by for anything important, really just hoping they might be able to chat and wind down after the mission they’d just had.

He wrapped his hand around the doorknob and gently cracked it open. It wasn’t hard to see why Enjin hadn’t responded. He was slumped over his desk much like Zanka was earlier that morning, pencil having fallen to the floor, report only barely filled out.

Zanka sighed and stepped in the room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

If Enjin hadn’t woken him up that morning, he would’ve definitely been late to the mission, and definitely without enough time to prepare. It was only fair that Zanka helped him out a little too. An equal exchange, unasked for, but they did small things like this for each other all the time. He liked having small opportunities to feel useful.

He slid the packet out from underneath Enjin, grabbing a big enough book and sitting gracefully on the floor. His injured leg ached in protest, but he forced himself to ignore it. For nearly the next hour, he dutifully filled out the report, just as he would when it was his turn to file them. They were really annoying, and he hated being assigned to do them, but he didn’t mind it so much this time, for whatever reason. Probably because he wasn’t being forced to do it.

When he finally finished filling in everything, his handwriting so much more distinctly neat than Enjin’s chicken scratch that there’d be no question who actually filled it out, he set it back on the desk next to Enjin’s head. He watched the way those short, blond locks pooled in the crook of the man’s jacket, memorized the swirl of the tattoo at the back of his neck that continued down under the fabric. His features, usually so animated and sharp, were soft in his fitful sleep, so relaxed compared to normal.

He was breathtaking.

Zank was unwittingly drawn in, unable to resist the magnetic pull and the small lurch of his heart. His fingers gently landed in that mess of blond hair. He thought it’d be stiff, tangled. The spiky updo didn’t seem like it came without some amount of holding products. Yet his fingers slipped through it like silk. So soft. How unexpected.

Danger warnings cropped up in the back of his mind, and he swallowed, pushing them away for just one more delicate touch.

What he was doing was so, so dangerous for his heart. But he couldn’t bring himself to stop. He never could, not when it came to Enjin. He’d jump straight into a building up in flames if their leader so much as asked him to do it.

It took a lot more effort than it should’ve taken for him to wrench himself away.

He picked up a spare throw blanket off the corner of Enjin’s bed, draping it over the man’s shoulders. He flicked the lights off before he left, whispering a very quiet, "Goodnight," as he shut the door.

The next two days were pretty quiet for their team. Difficult missions tended to result in a delay getting back to the field, and that was doubly true for the teams where most of the members weren’t adults yet. It was a little frustrating to Zanka that their team got similar treatment to Team Child despite how much older they were, since he was absolutely itching to get back to work. But whenever he passed by Rudo and a still-healing Riyo, he was reminded that yeah, those two were still kids, even if he didn’t regard himself as one. He tried to convince Semiu to give him a solo mission, but she was very quick to shut him down.

On the third day, Enjin came and found him while he was reading a book in the common room. He was so absorbed in the pages that it took Enjin lightly knocking on the top of his head to get his attention.

"Knock knock, anyone home?" the man teased, his face curled into a characteristic playful grin.

Zanka groaned and dug around for his bookmark, shutting his book and setting it aside. He uncurled himself in the seat, not having even realized when he pulled his legs up under himself and sprawled out in an undignified manner. "Hm?" he hummed, prompting the man to continue.

He didn’t notice Umbreaker right away, but Enjin propped the familiar umbrella on his shoulders. He was fully dressed in uniform, his jacket slightly wrinkled, no doubt from being thrown casually into a pile whenever it was taken off. Really, what kind of savagery was that?

"We’ve got a new mission. Just you and me on this one."

Zanka nodded, putting his feet down and standing up. "When do we leave?"

"Two hours. You’ve got time, don’t worry," the man assured. He reached forward with his free hand, and Zanka didn’t notice until too late that Enjin was ruffling his hair. He hissed, swatting those large hands away and fixing the ashy strands. Enjin chuckled at his antics, but Zanka couldn’t help it, he preferred to look nice and presentable even if he was just lounging around the common room.

"By the way," Enjin continued, now taking a seat across from where Zanka had been and casually manspreading out, "I’m heading to the bar with Gris, Bro, and Follo later tonight. Do you wanna come with?"

Zanka hesitated. "You know I don’t drink."

The man shrugged, not losing the casual smile. "You don’t have to. I just thought I’d extend you an invitation."

He took a moment to consider his options. He didn’t have any plans for tonight yet, aside from going for a run before it got too dark, depending on how strenuous the mission today was. By all means, he could attend, and if Enjin was personally inviting him, well, he didn’t want to disappoint. He liked spending time with Enjin, especially in a relaxed environment with some of the other older guys. The maturity there was comfortable.

But that came at a price, that being the fact Zanka was the youngest of them, and he could definitely feel the awkwardness creeping up on him when he allowed his mind to wander. He prided himself on being more mature than his years, but in an environment as uncomfortable for him as the bar, he often felt a little too out-of-his-depth. It made him feel like a teenager in adult clothes, pretending like he belonged. He was a bit too uptight for the simple pleasures of barhopping, which he wasn’t afraid to admit about himself, even if he wished he could let his hair down and join Enjin’s escapades without worrying about sullying his reputation by doing so.

"We’ll see how the mission goes," he finally replied. "I’m going to get warmed up before we leave."

"Hey, Zanka."

Halfway through the door already, he turned, raising a brow.

"Take it easy, okay? Don’t wear yourself out before we even leave." Enjin wasn’t being particularly stern when he said it, and he was digging through his pockets for a cigarette as he spoke, but he did sound sincere.

"Of course."

This time around, the mission wasn’t so bad. They were both veterans who could usually work alone, so even with a more difficult fight, they were able to handle it. It was just a routine cleanup, and it left Zanka feeling more exhilarated than exhausted.

Still, even with their success, he’d made mistakes during their fight. Careless ones. He should’ve warmed up more intensely earlier. He’d had a couple more close calls than he liked, and Enjin had even been forced to protect his back at one point. He’d failed to anticipate a strike from behind, and that was a potentially fatal miscalculation. It wasn’t Enjin’s responsibility to be his shield.

"Man," Enjin groaned at the wheel, the two of them alone in the car on the way back to headquarters. The bumpy road beneath them kept the energy high. It was hard to wind down when every stray pothole threatened to slam Zanka’s head against the wall. "I could go for a drink right about now. Light a cig for me?"

Zanka rolled his eyes at his mentor's antics, but he obliged, reaching into the center console to dig out one of the familiar cigarettes and a lighter. It took a moment for him to get the lighter to light, since he was pretty unused to handling one, but he managed to figure it out eventually, striking up the flame and placing the end of the cigarette into it. For a moment, he held the little stick between two fingers, watching it burn.

"What does it feel like?" he found himself asking, watching the flame dance on the tip. "We didn’t really have these in Kamuatari."

Enjin ran a hand through the back of his hair, figuring out how to put the feeling into words. "Bit of a buzz. Helps me calm down. I get all cranky without it."

Zanka turned the explanation over in his mind. Looked down at the unassuming stick in his hands. "Can I try it?" He wasn’t really sure what brought him to ask. Usually, the thought of it didn’t sound too appealing to him, but being calm sounded nice, he supposed. With the way his brain liked to scream at him ceaselessly, a tiny reprieve sounded potentially nice, even if he ended up hating it. Plus, admittedly, he’d grown fond of the smell. If Enjin did it, then—

In an instant, Enjin reached over and plucked the cigarette from his hands. "Nope." He put the cigarette to his lips, deeply inhaling it and sighing the smoke out the window.

His lips twisted into a pout, arms crossing. "Why not?"

"It’s not good for you."

"Then why do you do it?"

Enjin seemed agitated by the question. Zanka bit his lip, shrinking back a little. That was a dumb question. It wasn’t his business. He shouldn’t have asked. How stupid of him.

"I do it because I’m addicted. Nicotine withdrawal is a bitch. I’m not letting you deal with it."

"I’m old enough to at least try it…" he mumbled, slightly annoyed now. He was aware of the risk of addiction. Just one test wouldn’t lead to that, so Enjin was probably just sheltering him because of his age. After all, he’d seen Enjin pass a cigarette around with the adults before plenty of times.

"It’s not about your age," Enjin replied. He usually drove with one hand on the wheel and the other casually leaned on the door, but he had both hands on the wheel now.

"Then what is it about?"

The older man opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated. Odd, he wasn’t usually the type to have second thoughts about the words coming out of his mouth. He called things like he saw them, and his mouth ran faster than his brain seemed to most of the time. "I can’t have my best Cleaner damaging his health over a cig," Enjin answered with a tone of finality.

Not that Zanka was going to argue. He felt his face heat up, a warm and rosy feeling spreading through his cheeks. Enjin called him his best Cleaner.

He turned towards the window, propping his chin on his palm to hide his fluster. The vast views of the countryside stared back at him, the dusky grey landscape that so often made life on the Ground feel like an inescapable hellscape. But he didn’t mind it so much now. It was a small comfort. A familiar sight, thankfully with no trash beasts. With the scent of smoke and Enjin’s steady breathing, he could almost relax.

"Tell you what," Enjin told him after a few minutes of silence. "I’ll buy you a drink tonight instead. I know you aren’t big on the idea, but it’s not as horrible for you as nicotine. Nothing too strong. I have a feeling you’d like soju."

Hmm. He supposed that wasn’t a bad alternative, even if he was still apprehensive about drinking. Sobriety had been hammered into him since he was a young age, and even now that he’d freed himself of a lot of the fears that he was indoctrinated into in his childhood, he was still weary of alcohol. He wasn’t too fond of the idea of losing his control to a drink.

"Not strong?" he clarified.

"It’s like 15%. I usually drink a 50% whiskey."

"Alright. Just one time."

The silence lapsed into a comfortable space for the both of them. Enjin focused on the road. Zanka stared out the window, allowing his thoughts to wander. For a while, he was soothed by the high compliment he’d been given, but his brain eventually circled back to the fight earlier. The fact he’d fucked up and Enjin had to come save his ass from a stray hit that may well have taken him out of the battle, it bothered him. That could’ve been bad if the blond hadn’t stepped in for him. If he had to rely on his mentor to protect him, then he still wasn’t strong enough.

"Hey, Enjin?"

"Mh?"

"Thanks for saving me earlier. From that trash beast."

"That’s what teammates are for," Enjin told him. He reached across the center console, flicking Zanka’s shoulder without turning his gaze from the road. "We rely on each other."

"I guess so," he muttered. He hated the idea of relying on the others when they didn’t really rely on him back. They could always handle themselves in battle, with the exception of Rudo, who was learning quickly. Soon enough, Zanka would be outclassed by his own student.

"If anything, I should thank you for helping me with the report the other day."

Ah, Zanka had almost forgotten about that. The dip of the man’s tattoos down his neck as he slept, the softness of his hair, those were seared into his mind. But the paperwork he’d done, well, that was just another day’s work. Nothing too difficult, no real sweat off of his back. "It was nothing."

"None of that," Enjin chastised. "We’re a team. We build each other up."

Yeah. A team.

It was dangerous of him to want more than that.

The bar was more comfortable than Zanka had expected. They were seated at a booth table, and he was able to sit right across from Enjin, Follo to one side and the wall to his other. Smooth music played over the speakers, the expected chatter of a late-night bar not rising too high in volume to be especially irritating.

He was apprehensive about the waitress returning with their food and drinks, since Enjin had followed through on his promise and ordered a soju just for Zanka to try. The others at the table were surprised to see him add it to their usual order, with Gris making a comment about how it was nice to see Zanka coming out of his shell every once in a while to hang out with them. Other than that though, no one said anything about the unusual turn of events, which Zanka assumed was probably to keep him from getting scared off before the drinks even arrived. Not that he blamed them for making such an assumption, his fingers tapping on the table were a clear enough sign of his budding anxiety.

The others were involved in a conversation which Zanka only added to a handful of times, when there was a lull. He wasn’t a huge talker anyway, content to sit back and listen to what the others had to say. They discussed plenty of things— the missions they’d been on recently, the idea of visiting Canvas Town again soon, the grocery bill going up because Rudo and Dear were fighting over the sweets.

The waitress eventually brought the drinks around, and Zanka could tell why they’d taken a little while. Most of the others had glasses, with layered colors in their drinks, garnished with orange zest or decorative little trinkets. For him though, the waitress just set down a green bottle with a tiny, empty little glass.

He gave Enjin a confused look, and the man slid both the bottle and the glass over to himself. He uncapped the drink with tattooed hands, gently pouring until the small glass was mostly full. "You’re supposed to drink it from the shotglass," he explained, passing it back over, "But none of us are really going to care if you drink it straight from the bottle either."

"Thanks," Zanka mumbled, sitting up and accepting the drink. He held the little glass— the shotglass— up to his face. The table’s conversation had gone quiet though, the other three turning their attention to watch him try the drink.

Ah. Well, here goes nothing, he supposed.

He tilted the glass up, taking a tentative sip. The flavor was immediate. It stung, as any alcohol would, and he immediately set the glass back down, still mostly full. That being said, it wasn’t all that bad, if he ignored the distinctly alcoholic taste of it. The fruity flavor really wasn’t unbearable. He wouldn’t drink it on a normal day, but as a once-in-awhile thing, he didn’t completely hate it.

"Soo?" Follo prompted, giving Zanka a light nudge with his elbow. Enjin raised a brow expectantly.

"It’s not bad," he assented. He picked the glass back up, finishing it more easily now that he knew what to expect from it.

Gris chuckled, sipping on his own glass with a look of pride in his eye. "They grow up so fast. I still remember Follo’s first drink."

Follo sputtered when the others laughed at the memory. "That was not fair, you guys totally set me up!" he accused, slamming a good bit of his own drink down as well.

"Everyone should start with a Fireball," Gris defended.

"Then why didn’t Zanka?!"

Enjin spoke up, his voice lilted with humor. "Because he would’ve imploded from one sip."

The young Supporter groaned, setting his head on the table. Bro reached over to pat his back, though he too seemed pretty amused. Zanka was torn between being grateful they’d protect him from the same fate, but at the same time, he was mildly frustrated with himself for making it seem like he was too weak to handle alcohol in the same way that everyone else could. He was just apprehensive about the side effects and the way his family had demonized it. But he was sure he could deal with the actual flavor perfectly fine, thank you.

He kept his quiet though, deciding against voicing his thoughts on the matter. He didn’t want to seem like a whiny rich kid, insisting he could drink like the rest of them and just didn’t want to. No, he stayed quiet, grateful that they were letting him simply dip his toes in without forcing him to drink something called "Fireball," a name that he imagined didn’t come lightly if alcohol already tasted like it was burning.

Enjin reached over without being prompted to, casually refilling Zanka’s shotglass while continuing conversation with the others.

It was unexpectedly easy to down the drink, especially with Enjin refilling his glass multiple times. He didn’t even give Zanka a chance to pour it for himself. It got to the point that Zanka held the bottle out of Enjin’s reach when the man tried to refill him again, shaking his head and just raising the bottle itself to his mouth, shotglass forgotten. That little action had Enjin’s eyes widening in surprise, which was replaced by a twinkle of some emotion that Zanka couldn’t place.

The problem with downing his drink at the rate he was downing it was the fact that he didn’t realize the symptoms coming for him until they started to build up.

As the night wore on and the table got their second and third rounds of drinks, which Zanka politely passed on, things started to blur. The bar seemed to get much louder than it was at the start of the night, and the table’s conversation made less and less sense. He felt everything like it was through a thin layer of film, and there was a slight disconnect between the movement of his hands and his brain's directions for them to move.

He shuffled his feet under the table, accidentally kicking a familiar heavy boot. He looked up apologetically at Enjin, pulling his foot away, but Enjin gave him a very slight smile, unnoticeable to the others, and slid his foot up against Zanka’s sandal.

Feeling emboldened, Zanka slid his foot over the top of Enjin’s boot, lightly pressing down on the steel toe. If Enjin noticed, he didn’t say anything, but he allowed Zanka’s foot to stay exactly where it was, and he continued to converse as if everything was perfectly normal.

Distantly, Zanka’s buried heart fluttered in his ribcage.

At some point, he rested his head against the wall, finding that the coolness of it against his cheek and temple helped him stay anchored. He felt warm all over, like he was wrapped in soft furs. It was heavy. He felt sluggish.

"—nka. Zanka."

Shit, someone was trying to get his attention. He looked up at the others, bleary. Their faces blurred at the edges, but he could read their looks of concern.

"You okay, man?" He was pretty sure it was Gris who asked, but it could’ve been any of them.

Yeah. Why wouldn’t he be okay? "Uhnn…" was what came out of his mouth instead.

Beside him, Follo laughed. "I think he’s sloshed."

Zanka shook his head. The world blurred when he did it, like he was seeing afterimages even when his head stilled. "‘M fine," he mumbled. His foot lightly pressed down on the boot that still rested under his sandal.

Enjin held his hand up, spreading some of his fingers out. "How many fingers am I holding up, Zanka?"

Man, that was so unfair. They smudged together, and Zanka had to squint at his hand for a moment before he could make out the three fingers. "Three," he answered, hoping he was quick enough not to give away his hazy state. It’d be horribly embarrassing if he was drunk off just one small bottle.

"Well, he got it," Enjin said with a shrug, leaning back against the booth with his arms behind his head.

"Enjin," Bro criticised. "You should probably take him back soon."

Oh no, Zanka was ruining their night. He was about to drag Enjin away from the group, all because he wasn’t good enough at holding his liquor. His face heated in embarrassment, not helped by the flush of alcohol, and he was quick to start mumbling excuses, "You don’ need ta… ‘m jus fine… we can stay…"

"It’s probably about time we all head back, anyway. It’s getting pretty late, and Follo and I have gear checks tomorrow morning," Gris assured him, starting to shuffle out of the booth to allow Enjin to get out. On their side of the table, Bro did the same, offering a hand to Follo. "You guys can go ahead and get going."

Zanka was sad when the boot beneath his foot slid away and disappeared, but he didn’t dare complain. Enjin sighed, stretching his arm across his body and cracking it as soon as he stood. "Tab’s mine tonight, isn’t it?" The others agreed, so Enjin fished his card out and handed it to Gris. "You can just leave it on my desk if I’m not back when you are. Door’s unlocked."

With that, Enjin crossed the table, reaching for Zanka, who gingerly accepted his bent arm for support in getting up. Moving his body was like moving a pile of bricks. A gelatinous pile of bricks. He was grateful for the support in shimmying out of the booth seat, because doing it himself may, admittedly, have been a bit of a struggle.

The moment he stood up, that’s when the effects actually hit him. He lost his balance immediately, sliding backwards and nearly hitting the edge of the table, if not for Enjin’s quick reflexes. Those strong arms that had helped him up were wrapped around his side, pulling him upright before he could hurt himself by falling. The world spun around him in the aftermath, and he vaguely felt himself being pulled and repositioned, yanking his awareness back and forth like a yo-yo until he felt a little sick from the movement.

"Hey, Zanka, breathe," came a familiar voice. A voice he trusted. The dizzying scent of smoke and cologne. The crinkle of a well-worn jacket. "Shit, I shouldn’t have let him drink that much."

"Probably not."

"He looks like he’s about to pass out."

"At least now we know he’s a lightweight."

Enjin’s voice sounded apologetic from above him, voice not too far away from Zanka’s ear when he spoke. "I thought the alcohol content would be low enough for him."

Zanka wanted to speak up, but all he could do was groan. He lifted his head when he’d finally gotten his bearings. His arm was thrown over Enjin’s shoulder, the man’s arm tight across his back and around his waist, helping him to stand. He was supporting most, if not all of his weight on the older man. How embarrassing.

How exhilarating.

If he wasn’t drunk off his ass, he would’ve been way more indignant about ending up in a situation like this. This was, after all, exactly the kind of scenario he was avoiding by staying sober. He usually feared losing his control like this.

So why did it feel… kinda nice? Why was the tight grip Enjin had around his waist so reassuring, rather than making him feel undignified, as it usually would? If the fear of being a burden was so strong in his throat it was stifling, why couldn’t he just find it in himself to brush the older man off and stand on his own?

Concerned voices continued in the background, but all Zanka could do was lean against the warmth of Enjin’s body. In spite of himself, he wished he could be even closer…

"Alright Zanka, I’m taking you to your room. Lean on me, let’s go."

Together, the two of them hobbled out of the bar, and Enjin led the way back to headquarters. It wasn’t a very far walk on the way there, but on the way back, it felt like it took genuinely forever. Every small crack in the pavement was a tripping hazard.

"Does ‘t always feel… like this…" he slurred as they walked, face buried in the crook of Enjin’s shoulder.

He could feel the vibrations of the older man’s chest rumbling when he laughed. "Not really. Not once you get used to it."

"Never wanna drink again…"

"Hah, fair enough. My bad."

A large hand landed on his hair. Zanka expected the man to ruffle it, as he so often did, but instead, he carded his fingers through the ash-brown strands, brushing them out of Zanka’s face and tucking them gently behind his ear.

"Shame," came a quieter voice, one that Zanka probably wouldn’t have caught if he wasn’t so close, "You’re pretty cute like this."

Zanka froze. Fully froze. Enjin nearly tripped when he suddenly stopped walking, suddenly turning into deadweight in the man’s arms. The gears in his head spun, but he couldn’t wrap his head around that comment, no matter how he tried to spin it.

"Whuh— what?" he sputtered dumbly.

Enjin’s head tilted in a show of confusion, but his eyes gave him away. "Hm? I didn’t say anything."

"Y-you totally did."

"You’re just drunk, Zanka. We need to get you to bed."

Was he that drunk? No, surely not. He was pretty confident that he heard what he heard. The real question was why Enjin would say that. Strong, he said that all the time. Capable, yeah sure. But cute? Cute? Sure, he was careful about his appearance, he took care of how he looked, but at the end of the day, he was just a normal guy. He didn’t even come close to comparing to the kinds of women that Enjin brought back from the club sometimes, when the man didn’t think his younger teammates were paying attention.

Zanka had always paid attention to those things.

"I get why s’ many women come home with you," he muttered, taking absolutely no note of what he was saying. "I woul’ too."

Now it was Enjin’s turn to be shocked. He took a deep inhale, staring up at the sky like it’d give him answers to his current predicament. "He’s just drunk. He’s not gonna remember any of this," the blond said to nothing. With renewed strength, he resumed walking, dragging the younger boy along with him.

"I have good memory," he piped up helpfully.

Enjin ignored him. "I’m so fucked," he cursed. Where the hell did that come from? Why was he fucked? It wasn’t Zanka’s fault, was it? He reran back the last few moments of conversation, struggling to remember what exactly he’d said. Is it because he called Enjin out on bringing random women home when he wasn’t supposed to know about it?

"Uhm, sorry."

"It’s not your fault, kid."

"Don’ call me a kid!" Zanka pouted so hard it was visible from his voice alone. "I’m basically a grown adult, an’ I’m mature for my age." He wiggled in Enjin’s arms as if he was going to try to prove it, but the man held him stable.

"You shouldn’t be saying that," Enjin sighed. "And you’ll always be a kid to me. Shorty."

Zanka roughly shoved at his face and nearly tumbled right out of Enjin’s hold. "Fuck off, I’m no kid!" he complained. "I can walk on my own."

"I’m not even going to let you try it. C’mere, you whiny ass brat," Enjin groaned. Rather than pull Zanka back up, he leaned down and scooped up Zanka’s legs, throwing the younger man off balance as he was picked up off the ground and held right against Enjin’s chest.

"Enjin!" he cried out. He immediately started scrambling for a way out, but his mentor held him steady as they approached the doors of headquarters. "Enjin! Put me down!"

"Calm down, you’re gonna cause a scene," Enjin hushed him. He used his back to push open the door with Zanka in his arms.

It was lucky that he listened, because Semiu was waiting for them to get back. "Good morning to you two," she addressed them both with a sharp look, eyebrow raised. "The other three beat you back. Said I might should make sure you both made it too."

She looked Zanka up and down. She didn’t need her glasses to tell her the problem, that was for sure.

"Hey Zanka," her voice quieted a tad, and she turned her attention on him, "You alright?"

He nodded. He was painfully aware that Semiu could see right through him, something that gave him a healthy fear of her even on a normal day. But she didn’t press any further.

"Good. Enjin," now she turned away from him. His focus on their conversation started to slip. "Explain this to me?"

"You’re looking at me like I did it on purpose! I just gave him a small bottle, promise!"

"For a man who says he doesn’t want something, you sure do like to create scenarios where it happens."

"I don’t know what you mean by that."

"You don’t have to hold back, you know. We all know you better than that. We know Zanka too, and we know he’s perfectly capable of making his own decisions."

"That’s not the problem, Semiu."

"It’s your call to make, that’s all I’m saying."

Zanka didn’t understand a single word of what they said. He lifted his head, quietly interrupting them. "C’n we go?" he asked. Unintentionally, he’d even raised his hand like a grade schooler asking a question.

Semiu agreed and stepped back. "Get Zanka to his room. You have plenty of time to keep thinking it over. There’s still ten months until February."

What the hell were they even talking about? Were they speaking in code? Was he even hearing this conversation correctly?

"Hopefully this doesn’t last that long, then."

Huh? What the fuck was happening in February?

Enjin adjusted his grip on Zanka, quickly leaving the room. He was left bewildered by the conversation he just heard, wondering what the hell they were on about. Some kind of secret mission? Zanka still hadn’t been let in on any missions that were secret from their own employees, rare as those were, but he wasn’t surprised to hear some of the adults may have some he’s entirely clueless about. Shit, he probably shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.

They made a beeline for Zanka’s room. Thankfully, the halls were basically empty at this hour. Pretty much everyone was in bed by now, so they didn’t run into anybody.

Enjin kicked Zanka’s door open with his foot, gingerly stepping inside and laying the younger man down on the edge of his bed. He pried Zanka’s sandals off, setting them down at the door before unzipping and stepping out of his boots too.

He knew how particular Zanka was about no shoes on the floor in his room.

He really did pay attention.

It was odd, he never expected for Enjin to know or care about some things about him. The man didn’t come across as particularly inclined to care about people in those ways. He was genuinely such a boisterous and eccentric guy, and his attitude was so carefree, it never seemed like Enjin paid attention to the little details.

Maybe Zanka was the one who should be paying more attention.

Enjin coaxed him into bed, and as soon as he had Zanka’s head on the pillow, he attempted to turn and leave the room.

Zanka sat up to catch him by the wrist. "Where are you goin’?"

"My room?" Enjin deadpanned, like it was obvious. Objectively, it actually was obvious.

"Stay for a minute."

The blond looked pretty conflicted. But eventually he assented, closing the door and sitting down on the foot of Zanka’s bed.

"What were you an’ Semiu on about?"

"None of your business."

"Why did you try to leave so fast? Are you worried about something? Am I part of the secret?"

Enjin made a zip motion across his mouth to silence the barrage of questions from his drunken teammate. Zanka immediately clamped his mouth shut. He knew better than to argue with that.

"Don’t worry about it, Zan. It’s a thing between the admins. I’ll handle it before you ever need to worry about it."

"So it is dangerous?" Zanka asked, his alarm very clear on his face.

Enjin’s gaze was anywhere but on him. The jacket neatly folded over his chair, the pencils on his desk in a neat row, the spines of his books ordered from tallest to shortest. Nothing was out of place, just how Zanka liked it to be. Just how he liked himself to be. Rather than a bumbling mess like this.

Yeah, he wasn’t drinking again after this incident. He felt like he’d already said things he’d regret in the morning, even if he didn’t know why.

"You could say it's a bit dangerous. But that’s part of the fun, isn’t it?"

"Hmm. You’ve gotta point. I like fighting."

Enjin nodded. His hand rose up again, grabbing the ends of Zanka’s hair and twirling it between his fingers. "I know you do. Why don’t you get some rest? We can spar in the morning if you’re not too hungover."

"We can spar?!" the teen exclaimed excitedly. "You never spar with me ‘nymore."

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I’ve been busy."

"It’s ok, I understand."

Enjin’s fingers released his hair, finding their way to his earlobes. With gentle focus, he pulled the clasps of Zanka’s earrings open, sliding his piercings out one at a time with a surprisingly delicate hand, calloused and rough as it was. He held the little blue tassels for a moment before setting them down on Zanka’s bedside.

When the man looked at his face again, he was absolutely burning.

"Go to sleep, Zanka. I’ll see you for our sparring session whenever you wake up."

Of all the incentives Enjin could give for him to actually go to sleep for once, that was a pretty strong one. Sleep wrapped its shadowy grasp around him, pulling him into the pillow and making it hard to keep his eyes open. He rolled over, pulling the blankets up to his neck. The light was flicked off, and the last thing Zanka saw was Enjin picking his boots up off the floor before shutting the door.

Enjin was acting so oddly that night, and for the life of him, he couldn’t decipher what specifically made him feel that way about the whole thing. No one action was too blatant, but playing with his feet under the table, the cute comment, being carried, getting effectively tucked in. His drunken mind swirled helplessly with broken pieces of a puzzle he might’ve been better off not solving.

He drifted into a dreamless sleep much faster than usual, thanks to the weight of the alcohol in his system.

Zanka rolled out of bed much later than usual. Thankfully, it was his one actual day off, unlike when the team was put on house arrest. He couldn’t be more grateful. His head hurt pretty badly.

Something on his side table caught his attention. Two pills and a small cup of water, along with a note. It was from Eishia, he could tell by the quickly scrawled cursive. "Headache and nausea medications. Eat after taking," it read.

He had a vague feeling he knew who was behind this.

Oh shit.

Enjin.

What did he say last night? He felt like it was something stupid. Undoubtedly, he said something stupid. That feeling was scary. Like he was in his body, but he wasn’t driving it, and he voiced everything that went through his head. Never in his life had his filters evaporated so completely, and he never wanted to experience that again. It was far from pleasant in retrospect.

He remembered something about a secret mission. Something about Enjin calling him a kid. And of course, he remembered their deal to spar this morning.

He checked the time. It was barely before noon.

Damn, that stuff really knocked him out. He shivered. Never again. No drinks, no cigarettes. He was perfectly content living the sober life.

He swallowed the two pills dry, but ended up draining the entire water cup after a moment anyway. When he pulled the blankets off and got up, he realized he was still dressed in his street clothes from the bar. He never did that. It made his nose wrinkle a little bit just thinking about it. Outside germs… in his bed. He’d have to wash the sheets today. But then he remembered the circumstances of last night, how Enjin had understandably not attempted to try to convince him to change clothes, but had still taken his shoes off at the entrance. It wasn’t like the man didn’t try, that was for sure.

When he went to put his earrings back on, the memory from the night before hit him. Those rough hands against his ears, the careful way that Enjin had removed his jewelry.

Ugh, he really needed to apologize and figure out exactly what went down last night. Enjin must be totally pissed about how much of a burden Zanka remembered being. Couldn’t even walk on his own, what a sorry excuse for a man he was. He should be way more capable of tolerating a drink.

He grabbed out a fresh pair of robes, straightening himself out and gently folding his old clothes to put them in the laundry bin. They were probably so creased from being slept on that it didn’t matter, but it was a habit nonetheless.

The mess hall had the lunch crowd now, rather than the breakfast crowd. He stepped inside, grateful that the noise level was pretty low today. Riyo immediately caught his eye and flagged him to their table. Zanka grabbed a plate of food before he joined the group. It was just her and Rudo today.

Zanka bit on a piece of toast and asked the most subtle, not even slightly desperate question that was on his mind. "Where’s Enjin?"

Riyo immediately facepalmed. She knew him too well, but she wouldn’t say anything in front of Rudo.

Speaking of Rudo, it was the younger boy that answered his question, looking up momentarily from his bowl of… was that ice cream? For lunch? "I heard he went for a run and some training earlier."

"It’s unlike you to be the last one of us awake. Must’ve been a hell of a night last night, huh?" she teased, poking his side. She was already aware of the fact he was actually planning to try a drink, but she shouldn’t know how it went.

"Well, I’m not drinking again," he answered, his head falling into his hand to hold it upright. He clutched at his temple like the pain would go away if he just willed it to hard enough. "My head hurts so bad.

"Heh. I heard Enjin had to carry you home."

He sputtered. "How the hell did you hear that?"

Her giggle was utterly mischievous. "I have my ways. You’re so clueless, Zanzan."

"Clueless?!" he repeated back to her, genuinely offended by the accusation.

"You’ll understand eventually."

"Why is everyone being so cryptic?!" Zanka let out a deep sigh of frustration. "It’s like everybody knows something that I don’t. It’s starting to drive me nuts."

Rudo raised his hand. "In my defense, I don’t know either."

Riyo snorted, but didn’t hand over any further information on the subject. Zanka bit his toast aggressively at her.

He finished his food not very long after they did, which wasn’t surprising, considering he got there late. They left the cafeteria together before splitting up their separate ways. Zanka immediately headed for the training field, not even needing to stop at his room, having already grabbed his staff before he left. He wasn’t fond of leaving it behind, even in the safety of his room.

He was greeted as soon as he opened the door, a cheerful, "Good morning, Zanka," acknowledging him on arrival.

"Sorry I’m late," he apologized.

"I expected it," Enjin shrugged. "My bad for giving you too much to drink. I should’ve been paying more attention than that."

"Uhm, about that…" he trailed off, fiddling with his hands. "What exactly did I say last night?"

Enjin’s expression softened, ever so slightly. "Don’t worry about it. I know you were just drunk, it’s not important."

Zanka still insisted, "No, I want to know what I said. I completely made a fool of myself, didn’t I?" Deep inside, he knew it was true, regardless of what Enjin said. "And why does Riyo know about the secret mission, and I don’t?! Do you not trust me?"

Enjin’s face contorted. "Riyo knows about the what?"

"She was teasing me at the table earlier. She said I’m clueless," he pouted. It was unlike him, to get so worked up over something that was really none of his business. He was more professional than that. But then again, his pride and ego were on the line, and the insinuation that he wasn’t trusted really dug under his skin.

Enjin pinched the bridge of his nose and slowly dragged his hand down his face.

"…You okay?" Zanka felt compelled to ask from the gesture.

"Listen, Zanka, just don’t worry about it. I promised you a spar, didn’t I?"

Why was the man deflecting so hard? He might’ve gotten away with it while Zanka was drunk, but now that he was sober, it wasn’t hard to realize he was being completely redirected away from this topic.

Still, the promise of a spar with his mentor was something he just couldn’t turn down, even if he had a lot of questions brewing in his mind. If he didn’t have such a bad damn headache, he might’ve been able to click the pieces together, but they just didn’t fit.

He took a few paces back, twirling his staff into a battle ready position and activating it. Enjin did the same.

Zanka made the first move, swinging his staff around and bringing it down on Enjin’s head. Umbreaker blocked the hit, but Zanka was quick to recover, bouncing back and striking again immediately after. He had the range advantage, and when it came to fighting with humans instead of trash beasts, his weapon actually gave him the upper hand for once.

He threw attacks at Enjin left, right and center. He wasn’t scared to throw in a punch or kick of his own either, always having been one to use his instrument as an extension of his body, rather than relying on it solely. His mentor stayed mostly on the defensive, only getting a few strikes in when Zanka was still recovering from his last move.

"Good, Zanka," his mentor encouraged. "Your speed has improved. Your guard, however," he punctuated the sentence with a good, square hit on Zanka’s side, "Could use just a little bit more attention."

He was admittedly right. Zanka’s guard must be slacking if a beast almost got him yesterday. Unfortunately, stationary training dummies didn’t help much with that, so he’d have to drill that with Rudo sometime.

"That being said, it makes sense. How bad is your headache?"

"It’s not great," Zanka admitted. His pace didn’t slow, but his words were unsurprisingly out of breath.

"Figures."

Enjin blocked another blow with Umbreaker, then did the unexpected. He kicked his leg out, catching Zanka’s ankle and sending him falling backwards into the ground. In moments, Umbreaker was pointed right in his face, and he was helpless to defend against it.

"Looks like I win this time," Enjin said with a self-satisfied smirk. "We can rematch when you’ve fully sobered up."

Zanka grunted in annoyance. He accepted the hand offering to help him up.

They stood there for a moment, both breathing heavily from their fight. Enjin cleared his throat.

Oops. Zanka hadn’t let go of his hand.

He dropped it like it’d burned him.

"You did a good job, kid. Proud of you," the blond praised, his tone difficult to read.

"I’ve already told you I’m not a kid."

"Yeah, you’ve been pretty insistent about it."

Zanka looked up at him. Anxiety clawed at him. Did Enjin really not think he was grown up enough? Is that why he was keeping a secret from Zanka that even Riyo knew?

His voice cracked a little, unintentionally. "You don’t still see me as that kid you found in a well, do you?"

Enjin answered immediately. "Of course I don’t. You’ve grown a lot since then."

"Then why do you still treat me like I haven’t?" he accused, stepping back.

"I am well aware of your maturity, Zanka. This has nothing to do with that. I’m serious, I’m not discussing this subject with you."

Ouch.

"Okay," Zanka finally relented. "Fine. None of my business anyway."

It really stung. That was clearly a dangerous line of questioning. He was starting to wonder if he wanted to know what the truth was.

Before Enjin could get another word out, Zanka twirled his staff back into its resting position in the crook of his arm and briskly left the room. His ego was wounded, and he needed to retreat to his room before anyone noticed how much it was tearing him up inside.

It was dangerous, how much he allowed Enjin’s opinion to matter so much to him.

He barely saw Enjin for the next week.

It wasn’t too unusual that Team Akuta go off of separate missions without supervision, and Zanka was keeping watch over Rudo for most of it. What was weird was being unable to find the man on their downtime, and whenever he did see the older man, Enjin was clearly too busy for Zanka to be bothering him.

Either way, it’s not like Zanka knew what to say to him for a while. His pride was still bruised.

The mask he usually wore stayed on tight as the days that he was ignored stretched on and on. He tried to get his head in the game, thought carefully about every word that left his mouth. Most of his responses were short and snipper than usual as a result. He spent every free moment that he had occupied with training. If he wanted Enjin to think of him as mature, he had to act as mature as possible, otherwise the man that invaded his waking thoughts would never see him as trustworthy enough. His agitation was so clear that most of his coworkers gave him a bubble of space.

He mentioned his fears to Riyo, the fact that Enjin was completely and obviously ignoring him. She laughed and said that their team leader was acting immature.

Yeah. Zanka supposed that he kinda was. How ironic.

Finally, he had enough. With Riyo’s words echoing through his head, he found himself in front of Enjin’s door, his hand hovering over the wooden frame. He gave two not-so-gentle knocks. Not a sound. He was about to knock again when he heard the man finally say, "Come in."

Zanka barged in, hands clenched to keep himself calm and his voice level. "I thought I was the immature one. Are you seriously ignoring me?"

The blond sat at his desk, brows furrowed and a cigarette between his lips. On his desk was a series of paper stacks and a folder with the rings open. He was dressed in plain civilian clothes, probably not having come back from town all that long ago. What stood out the most though, was the tiredness on his face.

"Wasn’t my intention. Sorry if I made you feel that way." He turned away from Zanka and resumed his task of sorting out files.

"I’m not stupid, Enjin."

"You’re right. You aren’t." Papers shuffled around in his hands.

Zanka stepped inside and closed the door behind himself. He walked right up to Enjin, grabbing the older man by the lapel of his jacket and staring him down, piercing blue eyes against questioning golden ones. He wasn’t sure where he got the confidence from. Probably the buried rage and boiling fears stirring into an unpredictable disaster in his head.

"What the hell did I do? I’m starting to feel like you don’t trust me at all anymore."

"That’s not true," Enjin told him immediately, his hand grabbing Zanka’s wrist firmly. "I do trust you."

Zanka’s eyes pricked. Absolutely not. Not now. He was not going to cry like a kid having a tantrum right now. "I only wanted you to pay attention to me."

Enjin exhaled slowly, "I know."

"I just wanna fix it."

He was pulled in for a hug. Enjin’s breath fanned hotly across his shoulder. His heart was beating in double time. "Zanka," the man muttered, "You’re playing a very dangerous game."

Confusion, indignation, self-deprecation, and fear coiled in his stomach at that warning. "I don’t understand," he mumbled against Enjin’s shoulder. "What do you want from me?"

"I’m so fucked," Enjin mumbled to himself. He’d said something like that the other night when Zanka was drunk, hadn’t he? "Goddamnit Zan, you’re gonna be the death of me."

What? "What’d I do?" Zanka begged to know, pulling away from the hug. He’d never seen Enjin make an expression like this. Contemplating. It was so alien on his face. This man never thought through something that hard, at least not that Zanka had ever been there to see. Then again, there was a lot he didn’t know about Enjin, so he probably just made his more difficult decisions when he was in private.

Enjin pulled the cigarette from his mouth, squashed it into the ashtray on his desk, and stood. He towered over Zanka pretty easily, and he used that height to his advantage, crowding Zanka up against the wall. Zanka’s back hit the drywall before he knew what was happening. The blond leaned down until he was eye-level, meeting Zanka’s gaze with a golden hue that saw right through him. He could smell the smoke that lingered in Enjin’s mouth, and his eyes watered from the closeness of it. Their faces were only inches apart, and for the first time in a long time, Zanka had genuinely no idea what to say. He didn’t have a calculation for this. Every move he could possibly make seemed like a gamble, and he didn’t like any of their odds.

"I like you more than you think, Zan."

What did he—

The pieces clicked. Zanka was sharp, even if he was in disbelief about the conclusion the evidence brought him to.

Oh gods, he was so stupid.

"You don’t mean—"

Enjin closed his eyes. Like he couldn’t face Zanka after that confession. But still, he stayed exactly where he was. "I mean what you think I mean."

The realization hit Zanka like their car had run him over.

Honestly, Zanka had been pining over the older man basically since they met. He’d always looked up to Enjin, and as he got older and more in touch with his deeper feelings, he eventually recognized what it was that he felt towards his mentor.

But that’d always been an unreachable dream, a fantasy. Enjin was just too far ahead of him in every way. Too much older, too much more skilled. He drew in attention like moths to his flame, with no shortage of women at his charming disposal. Not to mention that Zanka was, notably, not a woman.

So Zanka had subsisted off of the little things, the hair ruffles and the praises about his improvement in fighting. That was all he needed. He told himself he was fine with that, walking a razor edge between viewing Enjin as a platonic coworker and dreaming about having the man in a more intimate way.

"I want you to look at me like you look at those women at the bar," Zanka mumbled. A quiet admission.

"I will never look at you like that."

Zanka’s heart dropped. Did he misread the situation?

A strand of loose hair was gently tucked behind his ear. "You mean way more than that to me."

Like whiplash, Zanka felt like he was being tugged between two polar opposites. He didn’t know what the hell was happening, but he didn’t have a choice except to roll with it, see where the conversation led to. Maybe he’d made a mistake when he knocked on Enjin’s door. Maybe he’d made a mistake when he agreed to try drinking. Hell, maybe he’d made a mistake when he’d crawled out of that well instead of wasting away at the bottom.

"Then why don’t you act like it?"

"You’re seventeen. You know I can’t."

"Don’t you think I can make my own decisions?"

"Zanka Nijiku." Enjin forced out the boy’s full name. He’d never seen the man look so pained, even when he was in the infirmary. He usually laughed off his injuries, occasionally whined about them to get a little extra attention, just like everything else the man did. Zanka had never seen him so serious before. "Don’t make me do this."

Every careful calculation Zanka had ever made flew out the window. Everything he wanted, everything Enjin wanted from him, it was right there in front of him. So tantalizingly close. Would this make Enjin see him as a man, or would he be upset that Zanka couldn’t keep his nose where it belonged? Just how badly did the other man want this? Did he think about it like Zanka did?

It was hard to imagine that. Enjin. Thinking about him. He was nothing special, but his mentor managed to make him feel like he was.

It was a very dangerous feeling.

Zanka’s hair wove through those soft, blonde strands he usually admired from a distance. He leaned forward, until his forehead rested against Enjin’s. He was old enough to make his own decisions after all, and Enjin wasn’t making a move to stop him.

"Then let me do it," he breathed. Enjin’s slightly chapped lips brushed his freshly picked and broken ones.

He sealed the distance.

It wasn’t sparks, nothing magical. Just the feeling of Enjin’s lips on his, the hand that held him by the waist, the fingers tangling their way into his hair, the acrid taste of smoke and the smell of cologne. It took a moment before Enjin responded to the action, and Zanka immediately doubted himself. Did he fuck up by doing this?

But then Enjin kissed him back with fervor, pulling Zanka tight against his chest and making obvious the hammering of their hearts against each other, like they were trying to reach out to one another from the inside. The older man tipped his head further for better access, deepening the kiss and sliding his tongue across Zanka’s lower lip. His lips parted, and he was immediately overpowered by the more experienced of the two of them, who claimed the inside of his mouth like he had always owned it. The taste of him invaded Zanka’s mouth like a spreading fire, and he wondered briefly if he could get a second-hand high off the man’s breath alone.

"Fuck, Zan," the man hissed against his lips before diving in for more. "You don’t understand what you’re doing." Zanka was midway through catching his breath in the brief gap, and the immediate resumption nearly made him choke on air. He had to force himself to remember to keep breathing through his nose. A sturdy hand gripped onto his waist so hard he feared it might actually bruise. He couldn’t even move his head because of the tight grip that Enjin had on his hair. The older man drank him in like oxygen, like he was a starved man and Zanka was the first meal he’d ever eaten.

By all accounts, he should’ve been establishing his own strength, holding Enjin back in the same way, proving that he could kiss back like an adult. But his tense shoulders relaxed, his lips parting needily without demanding anything back. He let Enjin adjust him as he felt necessary, submitting himself to his mentor’s experience in the world of passion and intimacy. He trusted the other man. Fully and completely. No questions asked.

This really was a dangerous game.

Without warning, Enjin swept him off his feet, and he yelped as he was all but thrown onto the bed. Enjin crawled on top of him, not straddling him but leaning over him from his side. "I tried," he muttered as his hand began to roam over Zanka’s chest. "Listen to me, Zanka."

Through his haze, Zanka perked up, listening as intently as he could to what Enjin was about to tell him.

"If you need a break, you say yellow. If something makes you uncomfortable, you say red. Immediately. Got that?"

"Like a… traffic light?" Zanka questioned. What was he agreeing to right now?

"Exactly like a traffic light," Enjin confirmed. "I will not be upset with you if you say it. I want you to tell me right away."

"Okay."

"Promise me."

Zanka looked up at him, his eyes wide and disarmed. His lips were wet from their spit, his earrings and hair fanning out around his head like a halo. Enjin’s eyes, however, were dead serious, but the way he was looking at the younger man, it was like he was planning to eat Zanka alive.

Just what the hell had he unleashed? Had Enjin seriously been this restrained the whole time?

Did Zanka’s own puppy crush even compare to this extreme display of want?

"I promise."

The moment the words left his mouth, Enjin was back on him, stealing his breath with another starved kiss. He felt his shirt being lifted, warm hands traveling up his sides from his hips to his waist, and he squeaked in alarm from the forward display.

Suffice it to say, Zanka had never done anything like this before. Enjin was both his lifeline and the pool he was drowning in.

Their lips parted, connected briefly by a string of saliva before it snapped. Enjin wasted no time pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips, then his cheek, down his jawline. He nibbled at Zanka’s earlobes, nudging the piercings with his lips, and continued his path downward, towards the dip of Zanka’s shoulder.

"You’re mine." Enjin’s voice was low and gravely. A statement. A claim of ownership.

A shiver ran down Zanka’s back from the raw possessiveness of it.

He was wildly out of his depth. For the first time since Hyo beat him all those years ago, he felt like he was dropped straight into the deep end, and no one had ever taught him to swim.

Zanka knew a lot about the world. He saw the beauty of it and the carnage. He’d experienced high expectations, he’d endured the experience of being a runaway without a home. But no amount of training or studying or following Enjin around like a shadow could’ve possibly prepared him for the dam he’d accidentally broken in the other man.

He thought he knew what he was asking for. Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure about that.

Sharp teeth bared down on the sensitive skin just below his shirt’s collar.

"O-ow!" the exclamation tore its way out of him without preamble. "En— Enjin— what are you—?!"

The blond ignored him. He latched harder on that pale skin, sucking on the spot until it flared with pain. Zanka squirmed, his hands weakly pushing at Enjin’s chest. He almost considered putting this on pause, toyed with the simple word yellow on his tongue. But in the end, he didn’t say it.

When the initial stung faded, it actually felt quite nice. Enjin’s lips against his body felt like a silent prayer, and Zanka was far from used to receiving this amount of attention.

"Enjin?" he mumbled, softer this time. The blond released his teeth, sitting back enough to let Zanka speak. "H- how long… have you, you know?"

"Liked you?" the man finished for him. "A long time."

Zanka asked the question that’d been nagging at him. "I thought you preferred women. Why… me?"

"Women are nice. Pretty faces, soft curves. But do you know what else I like?" Zanka blinked up at him, wordless. Enjin’s hands found their way back to his hair, soft and comforting. "I like someone who’s smart. A little naughty. Forgiving enough to deal with me. And more than that…"

A feather-light kiss was pressed to his forehead.

"I like people who will crawl through rock bottom and still come out of it fighting. And on that count, you’ve had my attention from the start."

Oh.

The beating of his own heart was deafening. Like a lit fuse, he could explode at any moment.

"Y- yellow," Zanka croaked.

Enjin’s touch disappeared immediately. How desperate was he, to already miss it? When he’d been the one to call it off, at that?

"Did I say something wrong?" Those golden eyes furrowed in concern.

"No, I just, I need a minute. To digest. That." Maybe Zanka was younger than he thought of himself as being. Maybe Enjin was right to look at him and just see a desperate teenager. Look at him, falling apart at the seams from the affectionate words of his own damn team leader. He really was pathetic. A mess. What a disaster.

Enjin was pouring his heart out to him, and Zanka was acting like a terrified kid about it. That wasn’t very fair.

"You…" Deep blue eyes stared up at Enjin, entirely defenseless. "You like me?" What a dumb question.

"I do."

"Are you… sure?" His voice cracked over the words. Come on Zanka, pull yourself together. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, be better than that—

"I’ve never been more sure of anything."

Just like that, the seal holding back the flood finally broke. Zanka forced himself upright, wrapping his arms around Enjin’s neck and burying his face against those sturdy shoulders, who’d held him up and supported him more times than he could hope to count. And he sobbed. Disgusting, messy, open-mouthed, body-wracking sobs. He hadn’t cried like this since he was a child. He’d hated being called the sensitive Nijiku son so much that he’d learned to lock this part of himself away, learned to cram his tears so deep under the guise of nonchalance that he’d hoped nobody would ever see him cry again.

Enjin was exceptionally gentle in how he handled the boy. He kept his touch appropriate, wrapped around Zanka’s back rather than on his hips as they had been before. He whispered quiet reassurances, little "It’s okay"s and "I’m here"s.

He wasn’t sure how long it took for him to calm down. But the crashing waves in his head eventually subsided into calmer waters, and he sniffled against Enjin’s shirt, unwilling to let the man see his face after he’d gone and embarrassed himself so thoroughly.

A rough hand settled against his cheek, wiping the tears away with a callused thumb. He leaned into that touch before it could go away, before Enjin could have second thoughts about choosing him. If he was probably going to get thrown out after this disaster of a night, then he’d steal the last traces of affection that Enjin was willing to give to him. He was at least that selfish.

"Are you feeling a little better?"

Zanka nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head no.

"That’s okay," Enjin assured him. "Maybe we should stop here for today."

Wait, no, but then he’d never look at Zanka the same way again. Zanka hadn’t even done the thing he came here to do, he hadn’t fixed what was wrong between them! Not that he had a clue how to do that, messy and complicated as the events of the last several minutes had been.

His voice came out all scratchy from crying. "Are you gonna throw me away?"

"Never. Zanka, I care about you. Genuinely. This doesn’t change that." He could feel the man’s sigh right through his ribcage. "And I’ll care about you in any way you need. It doesn’t… have to be an intimate thing if you don’t want it."

"I want it. I just— I don’t understand why you do…"

Enjin went silent. His arms pulled Zanka a little bit tighter. The younger man took a shuddering breath, trying to ignore how wet the fabric of Enjin’s sleeve was where his face was pressed against it.

"I wish," Enjin breathed, against Zanka’s hair, "That I could make you see yourself the way everyone else sees you."

Seems like neither of them had the answers.

Zanka wished he could say that night ended on a more positive note. Enjin comforted him for quite a while, until hunger eventually drew them out of their embrace. Enjin accompanied him to the mess hall and immediately to his room with a tray of food, giving anyone who gave them a funny look a stare in return, one that said "Don’t ask." Zanka was grateful for that, at least.

Even going to get food ended up being pretty pointless, because Zanka barely ate anything anyway.

He curled up under the blankets as soon as he was in the comfort of solitude, cradling his pillow to his chest. Phantom hands still roamed his body, and he could still feel cigarette-scented breath across his skin. He buried his fingers in his hair, but his hands were too slender to compare, and it just wasn’t the same.

Sunlight began to filter in through the window before Zanka had even gotten a wink of sleep. He doubted he’d manage it anytime soon, and he couldn’t risk oversleeping before his mission with Riyo later.

Reluctantly, he crawled out of bed, ignoring the uneaten food tray on his desk and the dark bruise on his collarbone when he changed into his uniform and left. Maybe going for a run would clear his head.

Zanka Nijiku was playing with danger. That was extremely evident by now.

A trash beast slammed into him from the side. He slipped up, and this time, Enjin wasn’t there to cover for his blind spot. The breath got knocked out of him as he fell forward, holding his staff out to break his fall. Still though, it hurt like a bitch when he landed, and it took Zanka entirely by surprise. He pushed himself to sit upright, his scraped and bleeding hands stinging when he put his weight on them. Above him, the trash beast reared, preparing to strike.

All he could do was brace his arms and await the incoming blow. He was still too dazed to move.

"Zanzan!"

Riyo’s familiar blaze of fiery red hair shot past him, her scissors skewering straight into the beast’s skull. She kicked them around with a flourish, snipping a beast to his three o’clock that he hadn’t even taken notice of yet into pieces before he could even manage a "thank you."

She stepped back to him, her green eyes darting wildly from target to target. "You okay?"

"Y-yeah. I’ll be just fine."

Riyo shook her head, tapping on her choker. "Tomme, Zanka’s down. Need evac."

"Copy."

Zanka used his staff to force himself to stand. Usually, he had a decent amount of height over her, so it was weird to be at eye-level. That was, until he recognized he was basically doubled over, the pain in his side was too severe to straighten his posture. When he pulled his hand away from his uniform, it was slick with blood.

"Don’t worry about it, Zanzan," Riyo assured him lightly, giving him a wink over her gas mask. She knew him, but he knew her too, enough to catch the concern in her eyes. "I can clean this up. Go with Tomme."

"I can still fight," he insisted.

"Like hell you will. Shit— we’ve got company," Riyo turned her gaze to the trash beasts, which were circling them, quickly closing in. "Just stay back, yeah? I’ve got this!"

Before Zanka could protest, she was moving, darting to the closest beast with her scissors and giving it the guillotine treatment. A gloved hand grabbed Zanka by the shoulder and pulled him away from the battlefield, despite his attempts to shake them off.

"Calm down, Zanka! You’re bleeding." It was Tomme talking to him now, and he wasn’t really sure how he ended up back on the floor. "Deep breath, antiseptic," she warned.

She sprayed the cold liquid on the wound, and though it burned, this was a feeling he was much more used to. "You’re in luck, it’s not that deep," she assured him. Thank the gods for that. Tomme held a thick cloth to his injury, grabbing his hands and placing them over the piece. "Put pressure here. We’ll have to wrap it up until we can get back."

Zanka listened blankly, following her instruction.

He should be on the field, damnit. He was relying on his teammates to protect him, and he couldn’t afford to do that. He was careless, so careless, and now look at him, sidelined like the absentminded fool that he was.

And the worst part is that even now, his mind was still wandering, still repeating the same intimate moments from yesterday over and over in his head like a movie he couldn’t turn off. This was dangerous for his heart, it was dangerous for his head. The sound of battle raged around him, and he was trying so hard to focus on it. But the fight was a million miles away from him, and a gentle voice was still calling to him, saying "I’m right here."

He stared off in a daze while the fight wrapped up. The Supporters took the job of checking over the field for stragglers, but Riyo immediately headed to check on him.

She squatted down in front of him, waving her arm in front of his face to get his attention. Her eyes said it all, she was concerned. "Hey, Zanks? You alive in there?"

His gaze flicked over to her, slowly losing the distant stare as his focus started taking anchor in reality again. How long had he been spacing out for? "I’m sorry," he immediately apologized.

"Huh? It’s not your fault. Everyone gets hurt sometimes." She reached forward, patting his shoulder in that way she liked to do to calm him and Rudo down.

"It was my fault," he told her dejectedly. "I let myself get distracted."

"Mm, I noticed that you were. It happens to everyone though. Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not here." They were way too vulnerable in a place like this, and as much as he appreciated the Supporters, he didn’t want any of them overhearing his stupid personal struggles.

She nodded in assent. "When we get back." She was about to leave, but before she fully walked away, she turned back to ask one more question. "Is this about Enjin?"

He needed to work on his damn mask. Riyo could see straight through the walls he put up. "Maybe."

Even though it was impossible to see beneath the gas mask, he had the feeling she was smiling as she walked away. Despite being post-fight, her steps were light and bouncy, like she had a brand new juicy secret under her belt. Inwardly, Zanka lamented giving her any amount of ammo against him.

After a lot of bargaining, Zanka managed to convince the team not to immediately report his injury to their team leader. Tomme and Follo were not convinced it was a good idea, but since he agreed to go immediately to the infirmary if they held their tongues, they accepted the vow of silence.

It was Riyo that helped him get to the infirmary, and the girl held her arms out to each side of him like she would catch him if he fell. There was a wide gap of air still between them, Zanka insisting on walking on his own two feet this time. He shuffled along pretty awkwardly, but he was damn tired of leaning on other people.

Eishia cleaned his wounds, stitched him up, and changed his bandages, working quietly and skillfully without asking any questions. That was an attitude Zanka really appreciated right now. Especially since he knew that as soon as she left him alone in the infirmary with Riyo, he was going to have to choke up a lot of information.

The young nurse waved them goodbye. "I’ll be back in about half an hour," Eishia told them. "Your pain meds should have kicked in by then, so I should be able to discharge you. Just be careful with those stitches."

"Got it, thank you."

"Get well soon!" the polite girl wished him as she shut the door. He was a bit worried to see her go.

Riyo’s elbows were both on the bed immediately. Her fingers laced together, propping her chin up and staring at Zanka as though he knew some important secret to the universe.

"Sooo," she purred, "Didya kiss?"

Zanka’s face heated up with embarrassment. But wordlessly, he pulled back his jacket, revealing the broken skin on his collarbone.

"Daaamn, you got him to give you a hickey?! Did you get any more!?" Her volume was way too loud for his comfort. He immediately shushed her.

"Shhhhut up! Someone might hear you!"

"Heheh, little Zanks has gone and lost his innocence," she cackled. Evidently, she was enjoying this way too much. Why was he telling her this anyway?

Oh yeah. Because he trusted her insight. The thing he was kind of hoping he’d get from this conversation, though his hopes dwindled with every laugh to escape the younger girl.

"Alright, alright!" she finally assented, wiping a tear from her eye with a finger. "You don’t have to give me that look. I’ll lay off."

"…What look?"

"The one where you look at me as if I just told you I kill puppies."

Fucking hell. He schooled his face into a neutral expression.

"I need advice."

Riyo unceremoniously exploded in laughter. "Oh my god, I knew it!" she roared, "You’re both fucking hopeless!" Zanka could only gawk at her reaction.

"That’s right, you knew all along that he liked me?! And you didn’t tell me anything?" he accused her with a pointed finger.

She gave him an animated shrug. "Pretty much everyone knows."

"Everyone?"

"Aside from Rudo and Team Child, yeah."

Oh. So basically everyone. Every person in Zanka’s life. Maybe he should pack his bags and run away again. Hopefully this time, nobody would find him.

"I feel like I forced him to do it."

Riyo quirked a brow, gesturing for him to continue with a head tilt.

"He told me not to keep pushing him because I’m too young. He looked like he really didn’t want to, and then I kissed him, like an idiot."

"Well, you are an idiot," she hissed in response to that piece of information. "You think you forced that man to do something he didn’t want to do? Enjin? You think you forced Enjin?"

Zanka just gaped at her.

"I hate to break it to you, you’re pretty and all, but you don’t have the attitude of a charmer. You aren’t forcing Enjin to do something he didn’t want." She patted his head, lips curled in a devious expression. "You could give me your best puppy dog eyes right here and now and I would never give you a hickey."

His face went aflame with indignation. "Riyo! Get the fuck out!"

"Sheesh, you haven’t even listened to my advice yet."

"If you keep teasing me, I’m not taking any advice from you anyway!"

She shushed him, finger to her lips. "An expert is talking now, so listen up, okay?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Let Enjin focus on what he wants. You need to focus on what you want. And you want him so badly it makes you look stupid, genuinely. I hate looking at it. It’s kinda gross."

"Is it really that bad?"

"Yes! You’ve told me things you’ve thought about Enjin that no sane person has ever thought! I’ve been hoping that at least if you get together I won’t have to hear about it anymore."

His face was deeply buried in his hands by now. He wasn’t sure how this was supposed to be helping.

"What I’m saying is, grow up, be a man. You like him, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then just show him that! It’s not that hard." Her hand came down on his upper back, and she gave him an affectionate pat. "Well, good talk. Please sort out your issues soonish."

He glowered down at the paper thin beadsheets of the infirmary until she left. He was loath to say that she had a point. A few points, actually.

He couldn’t decide Enjin’s mind for him. He had to trust that his teammate would be honest. They had to rely on each other, after all. Did that mean he was being honest about the way he saw Zanka?

Was he special in Enjin’s eyes?

Eishia hadn’t even returned when the door swung open. A familiar blond was standing in the doorway, and he looked absolutely furious. Enjin wasn’t in full uniform, just a more casual version that he usually wore around headquarters. If he wasn’t wrong, the man didn’t have a mission that day.

Wait a sec, how did he know Zanka was here?

"Who told—"

"All three of them."

Zanka cursed. Of course they’d rat him out, he supposed he wasn’t super convincing in the state he’d been in. But this really wasn’t a big deal, he’d be freed from the infirmary within a few minutes anyway. A few more minutes, and he might’ve gotten away with it. Enjin may not have known until the paperwork from his visit crossed his leader’s desk.

"If you didn’t want me to come check on you, say that. But I have to know when someone in Team Akuta is injured," Enjin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why would you try to hide that from me?"

Zanka shrank backwards into the crinkly pillow, his shoulders rising in shame. "I was just embarrassed."

"It’s a risk of the job, Zan. I’m not going to judge you for it."

His head dropped. He nodded. His team leader was right, he should be more responsible than that. "You’re right. I’m sorry."

A soft voice interrupted them. "Uhm, excuse me," Eishia mumbled as she squeezed past Enjin, who stepped back to give her space. She took out a blood pressure cuff, directing Zanka to take off his jacket so she could take his vitals one last time.

The three of them sat in awkward silence while the machine ran its course.

She checked the results. "Blood pressure is a little high, but about your usual, Zanka," she observed, writing the numbers down. "Heart rate—"

She paused. Her eyes drifted over to Enjin. She returned her focus to the notepad. "—Is expected."

Enjin raised a brow. "Am I allowed to know what it is?"

She pursed her lips and kept her silence.

"Anyway, let me take a look at those stitches," she requested, leaning down. Zanka tried to shift his body away from Enjin before he pulled the hem of his shirt away to expose the wound. "Hmm. See me again in a couple days. I’ll want to check on that."

That surely meant great news, right?

"I assume Enjin is helping you back to your room?"

"That’s why I’m here."

"Perfect, take it easy. Don’t forget to get dinner before taking your painkillers tonight," Eishia recited in a quiet tone. "You should be good to go for missions in about two days."

"Two days?! It’s not that bad, I’ll be good to go by tomorrow."

"It’s not bad, but it will be if the stitches rip, so please take it easy?"

"Can I at least train?" he asked, his voice increasing in urgency. He’d cost himself two whole days over the mistake of letting his mind wander. He was beyond disappointed in himself.

"Preferably not."

Enjin shook his head at the younger man and addressed Eishia himself. "I’ll make sure he stays off the field. Thanks, Eishia."

The nurse nodded, gathering up her notes and the blood pressure cuff before leaving the room.

Zanka didn’t doubt for a moment that she knew. The heart rate comment said enough. He’d gotten a glimpse, he knew it was over a hundred. Was Riyo really right? Did everybody know except for him? He should start looking for a new hole to crawl into.

"Let’s get you back to your room," Enjin suggested. He offered his hand for Zanka to stand, helping the boy to scramble out of the bed. He tried to get Zanka to support some weight on his body, but Zanka brushed him off, walking past him. Walking a bit slowly, but doing it on his own nonetheless. He refused to let himself rely on his team leader over something this stupid.

He steeled himself as they walked through the halls, turning Riyo’s words around in his mind. Grow up, be a man. Embarrassment and shame burned his heels and kept him moving forward. Should he really just go for it? Damn the consequences?

He stalled in his steps, until Enjin was shoulder-to-shoulder with him rather than tailing behind. He tapped the man’s fingers with the back of his own. Enjin took his hand without question, interlacing their fingers while they walked in silence.

Zanka pushed the door to his room open, dragging Enjin in behind him with an unannounced yank. He kicked it closed with his foot, already reaching to tug Enjin’s face down to his level by the shirt collar.

"Zan—?!" Enjin barely got his nickname out before the rest of his breath was stolen. Zanka held him in a firm kiss, trying his best to take the lead. He didn’t know what he was doing with his tongue though, and his teeth clacked against Enjin’s, which had both of them jumping back. But all Enjin did was chuckle and back away, telling Zanka, "Slow down a little."

"I want to try again. Last night, the infirmary, forget it," he demanded with more conviction than he understood where it was coming from. "I’ve been acting stupid."

"As your team lead, I can’t ignore the infirmary," Enjin mused, much to Zanka’s chagrin, "But on a personal level, consider it forgotten."

A moment of grateful silence passed. Enjin guided Zanka to sit down on the neatly-made bed before they continued their conversation.

"The others told me you were distracted today. I suppose that’s my fault."

It was hard for Zanka not to immediately deny it, to put the blame fully on himself. "I think we… share the blame," he whispered. His voice shook as he slowly pieced the words together. "I got in my head worrying. And when I got hurt, I didn’t want you to feel like I let you down."

"Sorry," he continued, resting his side up against Enjin’s. "I trust you more than that."

Enjin’s arm fell across his shoulder, pulling him in. "You’re just scared, Zan. That’s okay. I shouldn’t push you into things you aren’t ready for."

"You’re not pushing me. I want it." He inhaled to settle his nerves. "Riyo said… that if I want something, I have to man up and take it. And I want you."

Enjin tilted his head up to the ceiling, breathing out a quiet, "Fuck, kid."

"Still not a kid," Zanka immediately corrected.

Enjin leaned down, pressing his lips against the crown of Zanka’s head, breathing in the scent of the younger boy’s shampoo. "You make me want things I shouldn’t want."

A shiver ran up Zanka’s spine. He reached out to pull Enjin closer to himself, but the position they ended up in was a bit uncomfortable, pulling on Zanka’s side with the stitches. He hissed from the discomfort.

Inked hands slid under his thighs and lifted him like he weighed barely anything. He was placed over the blond’s lap, his legs spread out to straddle the other. Woah, holy shit. They were close like this. Very close.

His scuffed-up hands came up to bury themselves in that soft golden hair, not knowing what else to do with his limbs otherwise, and under his breath he made a small request, "Can you kiss me like the first time didn’t happen?"

"I already promised you I’d forget that," the blond told him. "But first, show me that injury."

Reluctantly, Zanka pulled the hem of his shirt up and revealed the wound. It wasn’t deep, but it was fairly long and the edges were jagged, the skin red and angry around it. Enjin blew out a heavy breath, tenderly touching the area around it, and pulling away when Zanka let out the smallest breath of pain.

"Sheesh."

"It’s not that bad."

Zanka dropped his shirt before Enjin could look any further, hoping to avoid being chastised about his carelessness concerning the whole thing.

"You know I’m still going to worry, right?"

"Sorry."

"Don’t apologize. Just—" Enjin’s hold on him tightened, "—Just come here."

Their lips connected again, slower than before, drinking each other in with a much more gentle passion. Awkwardly, Zanka slid his tongue against Enjin’s, and the man allowed him to slowly push it inside.

It was odd, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do now, so he tried to copy what Enjin had done before. He was sure he was doing pretty terribly, but Enjin was patient, giving him the space to experiment. He traveled the man’s mouth until he was satisfied, tasting an unexpected sweetness alongside the smoke he’d grown so familiar with.

"You taste sweet," he mumbled as he pulled back ever so slightly.

"There was cake in the mess hall earlier. I saved you a slice, it’s on the desk."

His heart warmed. Enjin had thought ahead about him to save a slice? He wondered if that happened while he was still on the mission or if Enjin was aware about his little infirmary visit by then. Probably before, because he seemed like he rushed to get there as soon as he heard.

Speaking of which, he noticed now that Enjin’s hands had been very careful to avoid his injured side this whole time, though they’d begun to feel out his body again, trailing that callused touch along his chest and back. It all made him feel so warm, like a fuzz building up in the pit of his stomach. He was usually a little better about containing the butterflies, as often as he’d had to squash them down to stay professional.

"Thanks, I’ll eat it when we’re done here…"

Enjin hummed. "How far did you want to go?"

Uh, well. He had no idea. "Can we just… see how things go?" he asked.

The man chuckled. He took one of Zanka’s wrists, pulling his hand away from his hair and carefully kissing the scrapes on his palm. "Of course. I’ll be gentle."

If he wasn’t already blushing, he definitely was now. "You don’t have to be gentle," he pouted, "I can take it."

"You’re injured and you’re new to this," Enjin quickly shut him down. "I’m not usually known for being that patient."

"Then don’t be," he insisted, looking down at Enjin with a spark of challenge in his eye.

"If you keep fucking around, you’re going to find out," the older man warned. He shut his eyes, brows furrowing. "I’ve been running out of restraint."

As if it was a dare, Zanka relocked their lips. Enjin took control this time. Restrained though he might be, his control was staggeringly dominating, and he really claimed Zanka in a way that had him melting. Inked hands slid up under the hem of his shirt, and a warm touch flicked over his nipples. In Zanka’s shock, his hands tightened in that blond hair, squeezing tightly enough that Enjin’s throat rumbled in a muffled growl.

Zanka hadn’t exactly touched his nipples in any kind of sensual context before, so the attention on them made him tense, especially when they were pinched and gently squeezed. He would’ve squeaked in alarm if Enjin wasn’t stealing his words away, and for several moments, he completely forgot to breathe.

He was dazed when Enjin released his lips, his eyes half-lidded and his face pink. Enjin nearly laughed. "Don’t touch here much, do you?" he asked, giving one of them a little flick.

"I don't touch myself much at all," Zanka admitted, ashamed. "It takes away time I could be training or reading."

"How do you usually handle getting worked up?"

"I meditate."

"You’re so impossible," the man muttered. "Don’t forget about the colors I told you last time."

He wondered only briefly why Enjin was bringing that up now. Briefly, because his shirt was slowly lifted until it revealed his chest, and Enjin was moving in before Zanka could say a word.

If fingers felt odd, the wet trail of the man’s tongue felt even stranger.

"Enjin!" he whined. He tugged on the man’s hair, but Enjin just chuckled, a deep reverberation through his chest, which was still pressed against his body. The blond’s chapped lips, though they were moist now from their little makeout session, felt completely different on the delicate skin of his nipple than they did on his lips.

A strangled whine fell from his lips when the man started to suck on that incredibly sensitive spot.

"Enjinnn!" he tried again, but it was no use. Besides, it wasn’t like he actually wanted the man to stop. It was a weird feeling, one that had him crinkling in on himself and squirming in the man’s lap, but not a bad one.

His squirming stopped abruptly when he realized he was, uhm, pitching a bit of a tent in his pants from the behavior.

He was horrified.

At the rate they were going, it was only a matter of time before Enjin noticed. Seriously, was he so bad at keeping himself contained after the slightest bit of exploration? He tried to will it to go away and not embarrass him, but the stimulation on his nipples from Enjin’s mouth and fingers was turning him on faster than he could force himself to turn it back off.

Unexpectedly, Enjin’s hips rolled up to meet him, shamelessly putting pressure right where Zanka didn’t want it to be. He couldn’t contain a whimper. What an undignified sound. This whole thing was undignified, but he still covered his mouth, terrified by his own ability to make a noise like that completely against his will.

Enjin pulled away, only to move from one nipple to the other. "I love the sounds you’re making, Zan. Don’t hide them," he requested, lining a trail of tender kisses across Zanka’s chest before latching onto his other nipple. If he’d thought the pinching was bad before, it was even worse when Enjin did it to the one he’d just left behind, playing with the puffy nib while Zanka could only whine from the sensitivity.

The free hand around Zanka’s lower back pulled him even closer, completely ruining his attempt to make space for his hardening dick. "D-don’t—" he could only gasp as his crotch was pressed right up against Enjin’s, leaving him with no room to hide how aroused he was getting. But in his complete mortification, he registered that his dick was pressed right against Enjin’s, and it was swelling too.

Holy fuck, what was Enjin packing down there? Zanka never paid much mind to size, not particularly caring about such crude things as a dick measuring contest, but his mind was racing with new questions.

The older man rolled his hips up again, grinding their clothed cocks against each other. Enjin didn’t let up on his nipple either, gently and expertly using his teeth to apply pressure that had him seeing stars. Fresh tears sprang to Zanka’s eyes. He’d never felt so humiliated in his life. Or so hard, for that matter. He was sure his face was burning.

"Wait— wait a sec— yellow—" he choked. Just like before, Enjin let go of him immediately, leaving him with saliva dribbling down his chest, his nipples red and irritated. His dick was straining in his pants. He released Enjin’s hair to wipe at his eyes, forcing himself to, at the very least, blink the tears down.

"What’s wrong?" Enjin asked, tenderly taking one of his hands away and wiping the boy’s eyes himself.

"I’m— I’m hard…" he observed dumbly. "S-sorry, couldn’t help—"

Enjin got a fond, albeit concerning expression. There was something hungry about it. Like the man was a beast inside of a cage of his own making, trying to keep his own instincts at bay. "Don’t be embarrassed. I am too," the older man reminded him, and he seemed like he was trying so hard to keep his hands from wandering. A light touch ghosted over Zanka’s skin, but he held himself back until the younger man could specifically say it was okay.

"I… I’ve never been… in front of another person before…" he mumbled, feeling even stupider by the minute. When Enjin asked earlier how far he’d wanted to go, he’d already insinuated this and more could be a possibility. Somehow, Zanka didn’t register the fact that it was really hard to do sexual things without getting hard.

There was a very, very dangerous look in Enjin’s eyes. Both of his strong arms wrapped around Zanka’s back.

"Zanka," he said the name almost like it was a prayer. "If you don’t say red right now, I’m going to ravage you."

His breath caught in his throat. "Wh— why?"

Like threads snapping, the man’s voice got deeper, nearly cracking with emotion. "I’m at the end of my patience," he mumbled, burying his face against Zanka’s shoulder. "Tell me no," he begged, "I don’t want to hurt you."

He was at the end of his patience? Was Zanka being too much of a baby about this? Was he frustrated? Annoyed? It wasn’t exactly fair for Zanka to be holding out on him. "I didn’t mean to… to wear out your patience…" he apologized.

Inked hands picked him up, flipping him roughly onto the bed on his back. His heart jumped. Enjin had an absolutely terrifying expression on his face as he crawled over Zanka’s sprawled body, pressing him down against the mattress with a flat palm. "You don’t understand how cute you are," the man all but growled. "Fuck, you don’t have a single damn clue."

Something was wrong. Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous. He was playing with fire. In all of this, Enjin was right. Zanka didn’t have a single clue what he was doing. He had genuinely no idea what caused Enjin to break in this way, had no idea what he’d done to warrant it. How was he being cute, when he was just scared to embarrass himself?

All his brain wanted to do was shut down. Surrender. Give it up. Submit. Even with all of the warnings, there was one problem inhibiting his ability to just say no, to back out while he still had the chance.

He still trusted Enjin.

And the man was looking at him so hungrily, but also so affectionately. His every move, his palm on Zanka’s abdomen, the hand that cradled his cheek, it was all fueled by want.

Enjin wanted him.

Zanka could give him something he wanted.

He couldn’t just turn down the opportunity to give Enjin what he desired.

So he gave in, whispering the words that sealed his fate. "I trust you."

His shirt was getting ripped off over his head before he knew what was happening, and he hissed from the way the harsh and sudden movement pulled at his stitches. His legs were forced apart, Enjin’s knees settling in the gap and allowing the blond to use more of his weight to hold the younger man down. Those inked hands, that devious mouth, they were crawling his skin like they had to memorize every dip and curve on his body. Something hard rested right up against Zanka’s dick, shamelessly rocking against him.

Those lips, they bit at his skin, scattering crescents of teeth and marks of deep purple in their wake. It hurt, especially when unexpectedly sharp canines broke through skin.

It was so much, so overwhelming all at once. The weight was crushing, and Enjin’s ability to stimulate him on multiple fronts had his head short-circuiting, his hands gripping onto the sheets for a lifeline. Unable to stare at the ceiling above for help, he shut his eyes, as if it could stop the tears from rolling down the sides of his face.

He felt a hot, nicotine scented breath near his face, then a wet sensation right by the corner of his eye. Was Enjin… licking his… tears?

Something about that just made him cry even harder.

"You’re beautiful," Enjin murmured above him like a man intoxicated. "Be a good boy, fall apart for me."

The words echoed in his head.

"A… good boy?"

Maybe it was just hardwired in him now. So many years of stumbling over himself for Enjin’s attention. Too much effort poured into receiving words of praise.

Even before then, all throughout his childhood, he was held on a string, chasing words of affirmation like they were a carrot on a stick. Deep down, in the depths of his heart, this was what he wanted, right?

He was scared. Terrified out of his mind. But he was being good.

He just wanted to keep being good. Even if it broke him. Even if he fell apart, just like Enjin asked him to.

He heard a chuckle above him. A now-familiar brush against his lips. The man was moving their hips against each other rougher now, the pressure building until Zanka felt like a lit fuse.

"Should’ve known you’d like that," came the husky laugh. "You’re being such a good boy for me."

His mind went blank, his body reacting in its place.

He came. Right then and there.

Sometimes, he still thought about his father’s last words to him before he left for the Cleaners, after he discovered his youngest child was a Giver, just like the Hell’s Guard preached against. Disgusting. Traitor. Failure. Those words followed him everywhere he went. He carried them with him like a heavy burden on his back every step of the way since the day he left his hometown.

If he’d made a different decision on that day, he would’ve continued to hear those words, and he wouldn’t have Enjin in his life.

Good boy.

He just.

Wanted.

More.

Those words, he craved to hear them again.

More.

Like a dog that’d finally caught its own tail.

More.

"S-say it again," he begged, forcing his eyes to blink open.

Maybe they were both animals, feasting on each other’s weaknesses.

More. Please, more.

"Good boy," Enjin praised him, claiming Zanka’s mouth for his own. At this point, Zanka was sure of it. He was more than just buzzed from the lingering taste of cigarettes, he was absolutely drunken off of it, worse than the soju had ever been. "You’re beautiful. You’re mine."

Like a dying man at an oasis.

He could take it. Just keep giving it.

Please, please, don’t let this stop.

Don’t let this feeling go away.

"Yours," he repeated, tasting the words. "Yours… En, please…"

Somewhere above him, distant, beyond the clouds in his head, Enjin admonished himself in a quiet, rumbled voice. "I’m so fucked up for this."

Zanka blinked up at him, using the back of his hand to brush enough of his tears away that the whole world wouldn’t be too blurry to see anymore. Enjin’s hands were grasping him tight, his head bowed in a moment of self-reflection.

With shaking fingers, he combed through that golden hair, like Enjin wasn’t bruising him with his grip on his sides. And even still, a realization brought him a soft smile in spite of all of the panic and the pain— Enjin was still carefully avoiding his injury.

He felt like he could take his own heart out of his chest right there, it wanted to pour out of his body so badly. Enjin still fucking cared. He was still trying not to hurt him.

"Enjin," he whimpered, running his fingers through that soft hair until the man looked up at him, met his glassy eyes with unreadable ones. "More."

The last scraps of Enjin’s resolve cracked for good.

Enjin rearranged them, and he felt his lower half being exposed to the cool air as his pants were stripped away from him. The man pulled his own clothes away too, adjusting Zanka’s position and pulling the covers over them to provide some warmth now that their clothes weren’t able to.

He heard Enjin spit on something, and touch run down the length of Zanka’s dick, tracing further down until it prodded at his entrance, drawing a twitch out of him. "Have you ever touched here before?"

Zanka shook his head no.

"Good, be a good boy for me," the praise rumbled in his chest like sparks. The touch began to push, forcing an intrusion in a place Zanka hadn’t really felt possible. His entrance struggled to take it, but once it was in, Enjin didn’t have too many issues pushing it in further, even if he had to use more pressure than he would’ve liked to. "You’re doing so good. Fuck, you’re tight."

Zanka’s breath caught, but he didn’t have the energy left to squirm away, or to move at all. The only thing he could do was tremble with every movement of Enjin’s finger, as he slid a knuckle deep, then two, and another finger forced in alongside it. Did it hurt? He wasn’t sure anymore. His body hurt. But beyond that, he didn’t know.

Enjin’s fingers curled, and really, Zanka’s body didn’t belong to him anymore. Something about the spot he’d found deep within Zanka’s guts set a fire through him like a wild, burning blaze. He hadn’t even recognized his own cock weeping against his stomach, but now he was coming again, and he might as well be a million miles away.

More.

He wasn’t sure if he could handle more.

More.

He was going to fall into pieces.

More.

If he was going to break, then he was glad it was at Enjin’s hands.

A voice broke through the haze, unintelligible, but comforting. Familiar. It said all the words he longed to hear. Good. Good. Good. He was doing good. He was being good. He wanted to be good. All he ever wanted was to be good.

He didn’t notice when he was done being stretched out, not until those fingers left him empty. He didn’t stay that way for long.

There was something in him, slowly filling that hollowness inside him, hammering into his body and mind. It filled him to the brim, and he was sure he was overflowing, positively melting into the floor, never to be collected again. He was a mess, through and through. His body, just a tool, just a thing for others to use, and he wanted it that way, wanted nothing more than to help, to be needed, to be loved, cherished, held, cared for.

Good. So good.

This was dangerous. Bordering on insane. He thought he knew desperation before, he was dead wrong.

From the inside out, he was being torn apart.

Good.

Good boy.

So good.

Such a good boy.

Everything hurt like hell.

He was surrounded by warmth, his light covered draped over his body and strong arms protectively embracing his skin.

Something was sticking to him. Multiple things, actually. Little pieces clung to his skin, right where he hurt the most. Bandages?

Whatever he was laying on, it was moving, rocking like a gentle ocean, and in his ears echoed a sturdy heartbeat.

He stirred.

"You’re awake." Enjin’s voice was so much softer than he’d ever heard it.

He groaned in pain, flopping his head weakly against Enjin’s chest. Through lidded eyes, he looked up at the older man, only to see those golden eyes staring at him so affectionately, filled with so much concern.

Zanka drank his features in. The curve of his jaw, the lines on his face, the mess of his hair, the knit of his brow. His mentor held him gently, his upper body and tattoos fully on display, while Zanka could only stare at him in awe. He’d craved this sight for a long time.

In alarm, he realized Enjin wasn’t wearing a shirt. And neither was he. At least they both had pants on, though Zanka was pretty sure the pajama pants he was wearing now were not what he’d been wearing earlier.

"Whuh…" he questioned, though the words escaped him. A hand combed through his hair, and he sighed, contentedly closing his eyes.

After a moment, Enjin sat up a little, grabbing something from the bedside and giving it to Zanka. "Here, take this. It’ll help." He was handed a pill and a small paper cup of water, one he recognized from his own bathroom sink. He took it, downing the water so quickly he was left needing more. He was so parched.

"I pushed you way too hard," Enjin explained, head bowed in apologies. "I knew better. I’m sorry."

Zanka’s memories were fuzzy at best. He had pieces, enough to recall the gist of what’d happened. That, and…

"Was I… good?"

Please say yes.

Enjin brushed his cheek with his thumb, the expression so tender that Zanka could probably live off just the feeling of his touch alone. "You are perfect."

Was he still alive, or was this all just a dream?

Did it matter?

When Enjin was holding him, calling him perfect, did it matter if it was real?

"Please don’t go away."

"I…" the man faltered, "I’m surprised you still want me, after what I did to you."

What?

Enjin could never do anything that’d make Zanka desire him less.

"You’re everything," he replied, curling into the man’s chest. "Stay forever."

"I’ll stay for as long as you want me to stay," came the answer.

The still evening cloaked them in a comfortable silence. Light emanated from the bedside lamp rather than filtering in through the curtains, and the darkness outside told him it was definitely nighttime. The room was cold, but the bed was warm, and Zanka was exactly where he wanted to be.

"There’s still a slice of cake, if you want it."

He perked up. "Cake?"

"From the mess hall. I saved it for you, remember?"

Hmm, barely. That memory was incredibly fleeting, a small detail lost after everything else happened.

"Later," he decided, stifling a yawn. "I’m cozy."

He let his heavy eyelids fall. The soft glide of callused fingers tracing the grooves of his face lulled him easily into a captive state. Fuck, he was so exhausted.

There was no danger here. Enjin was a dangerous man, but there was peace to be found in his arms. Zanka was certain of it. This was home.