Chapter Text
Zanka was having a bad day.
No, that's not right.
Zanka was having a shitty day.
Everyone seemed to be taking up more space than necessary, talking louder than usual, and efficiency was clearly not on anyone's menu. It was like everyone simultaneously agreed to be 10x more irritating on this particular day for whatever reason.
He had already run out of grace by noon, and by then, even standing became a hassle.
The mood had latched itself onto him, practically acting as a phantom instrument.
It followed him on the job. Especially on the job.
The mission today wasn't difficult. Just tedious. A swarm of small trash beasts to get rid of that were described by Enjin as, “light work, no reaction.” So at least they'd get it over with fast, considering how many cleaners were deployed. Riyo, Enjin, himself, Gris and Follo.
Then came the bumpy roads, loud music, and unearthly stench that came for free with his job description.
And when it came to fighting, every movement was a half-second slower. His footwork noticeably more stiff and strained than what was typical. Followed by the janked handling of Assistaff, swinging with rigid curves and stubborn arcs.
Despite all that, it was still enough to get the job done.
“Zanka, bud, you look like hot garbage," Enjin said to him, referring to the sour look on his face and sloppy posture as they started walking back to the vehicles.
Riyo added on, “Yeah, it looks like you stepped in something. Or did Enjin run you over this morning?”
Enjin tapped the back of her head with his full hand.
Zanka forced himself to ignore them and increased his walking speed instead. One wrong word out of him and it'd probably do enough damage to potentially desecrate the entire relationship he had with them.
He ended up walking past Gris and Follo to the front of the line.
Then, Zanka’s ears picked up on the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. He glanced to the side seeing Follo beside him now, bumping his shoulder to initiate conversation, "Hey. Couldn't help but notice your foul mood the entire day.”
And while it was significantly tamer than what the others commented, Zanka still didn't want anyone bringing up how apparent his bad attitude was.
The crunching of Follo's boots on the dirt seemed to be abnormally loud too.
He clenched his jaw and swallowed back as much agitation as he could before replying, “Mind’ya own business.”
Follo seemed unamused, silently dismissing the comment. “I don't think I've ever seen you this grumpy.”
Zanka let out a rough sigh, “Yeah, well, there's a first for everythin' 'round here.”
“You do know you don't have to waste away like this the whole day,” Follo said with genuine interest in helping. “And I dunno if you know but you're kinda bumming everyone else out. Maybe try a breathing exercise or you can-”
“Follo. Listen. I really don't need anyone tellin' me what I should be doin’ or how to be feelin’ right now. Alright? Just worry about yourself, and maybe try fixin’ that .. subpar technique ya got with your new instrument.”
That was as restrained as it could've possibly been for Zanka at the moment. Impressive even.
Follo searched his mind for a response, seemingly not wanting to push his buttons any further than they've already been pressed.
“Zanka, I don't need some pretty boy telling me to work on my technique considering your lousy performance today.”
He sounded unsure, like he's never actually insulted anyone before. Doesn't quite know the proper etiquette for it.
And Zanka doesn't have the energy to respond or care at all. Right now he just desperately wants to be left alone in his room, away from all the pestering. To declutter his mind and to finally be able to think clearly again. To care for Assistaff. To care for himself. Warm shower. Warm bed. Comfy blankets. Comfy clothes.
“...Hello?”
Follo waved his hand in front of Zanka's face, a bit worried at the sudden zone-out. Unfortunately Zanka was too into where he wished to be that he didn’t have the necessary brainpower to acknowledge Follo’s existence anymore.
He doesn’t even remember what happened the rest of the day, and yet somehow he made it through the entirety of it with his sanity still intact.
Zanka's bed has never felt this comfortable. Ever. Like a beautiful lullaby for his aching body and clogged mind. He let gravity take his head to the pillow with a plop and within seconds he was out.
__
Now morning, Zanka fluttered his eyes open. Mind completely reset. Damn, sleep really is a wonderful thing.
He basked in this momentary peace.
Then a memory from yesterday shot through his brain completely out of the blue.
What was it Follo called him?
He remembers their tiny dispute. And Follo’s shoddy retort. He kept searching around his brain for the leftovers of yesterday, to try and piece together the full sentence. But only two words really stood out to him.
…pretty boy…
What the hell kind of insult was that. Does it even count as one? Follo needs some serious work on his comebacks.
Maybe it was an accident. People don't insult someone with a compliment unless.. they want it to have a different effect. Was it on purpose then?
Why is he so worried about what Follo thinks of him? The timing couldn't be more random.
Now Zanka has a new problem. He couldn't get the thought of Follo, or rather, what he said to him, out of his head.
He massaged the bridge of his nose in hopes that it would alleviate the volume of his confusion. It didn't.
He shouldn't be overthinking this early in the morning, it clearly not being a healthy breakfast choice. What he needs right now is real nourishment.
He planted his feet to the ground, briefly stretched his shoulders and shuffled out the door.
Immediately jumpscared by Follo walking in the hallway.
“Oh hey,”
Zanka almost jumped out of his skin.
“Feeling any better?” Follo said, wearing a light smile.
Zanka examined the soft expression.
Follo seemed different. And not exactly different different. Just… a newer energy surrounding him.
A positive charge. Magnetic.
It wasn't until Follo jut his head out in a concerned manner that he realized he hadn't responded yet.
Zanka refocused his vision.
“Yeah- Yup. Thanks fer askin’.”
“Glad to hear it!"
“An’ apologies for anythin’ I happened to say yesterday.. I was out of it,” Zanka said, unknowingly adjusting his hair.
“Nah, don't even worry. Happens to all of us,” Follo reassuring warmly.
An awkward silence creeping in.
Follo hesitantly breaking it with,“...Uh, so I was just about to head down-”
And then a wild Riyo interrupting his break with,
“Morning, guys! Wanna walk with me? Was just about to grab some food. Heard they got some pretty good stuff today.”
Follo turned around, alarmed by the new character. Then turning back to face Zanka.
Zanka couldn’t quite tell if the expression he wore now was disappointment or just the after effects of being startled.
Follo decided to answer for them both.
“Sure. We were just about to head down anyway,” catching Zanka’s eye, “I think.”
Zanka nodded along.
Then all three of them began their journey to the cafeteria.
Zanka feels weird. He feels like his brain was rewired. All because of some stupid… compliment? Er.. Insult? Whatever the hell it was. Two words that just so happened to be arranged together.
It haunted him the whole day.
__
The next afternoon Zanka decided he’d discreetly ask Follo about it. Nothing weird about asking a colleague if they actually found him pretty, or if it was just a spur of the moment type deal. Totally not weird. It'd only be weird if he thought of him in that way, right?
…
He found him in the cafeteria, same time and spot they all sat at yesterday.
Zanka approached Follo as he finished wiping off his area, Follo looking up as he stood across from him.
“Follo.”
“Hm?”
“What do you think of me?
Follo blinking, a little confused at the random question.
“Like.. under what context?”
Zanka slowly responding, “My .. appearance.”
“Um,” Follo surveying Zanka as a whole, “Not bad looking?”
“No. The thing ya said the other day.”
“What did I say?” Follo said, attempting to look confused as he fidgeted with a straw wrapper.
“Ya called me pretty.”
Well, so much for discreet. He didn't expect it to sound so weird, saying it out loud.
Follo blinking again, a nervous titter escaping his lungs as he glanced to the side.
“Oh, right. I guess I sorta did.”
Zanka had no intention of putting what seemed like a giant spotlight on Follo, a light shade of pink creeping up around his ears.
Zanka knows he's supposed to respond now but to be honest, he hadn't actually thought of what he'd respond with. He can't just say, “thanks” and leave. He also can't go ripping him to pieces over it, that's normally unrealistic for most people. Truthfully, on the surface level, Zanka paid no mind to the compliment at all. But actually, subconsciously, something deep down within him is actively trying to reshape the significance of it.
Follo reads the silence and decides to speak again.
Clearing his throat and maintaining a steady demeanor, “I mean, I wasn't lying. You are pretty. Is that not a normal thing to tell someone?”
And now somehow Follo performed some weird sorcery, transferring the blush on his ears over to Zanka.
Zanka unprepared, words slightly faltering, “N-No, I dunno. Not usually when-”
“So you wouldn't call me pretty?”
“No, I'd say you're-”
Well, Zanka walked right into that one.
He stared at Follo, searching for a suitable answer.
Wait. Now that he's really looking at him…
Follo has this.. sweet kind of charm to his features.
Something gentle about the way his hair frames the shape of his face, and the way his eyes drift upwards, only to slightly droop at the corners, like the start of dripping honey.
Handsome.
“Charming.”
Is what Zanka settled for.
Follo’s brows lifting with faint surprise, “Really?”
Zanka trying to keep his temperature from rising, “Sure. Yeah.”
Follo just a bit more giddier than before, “Anything else you wanna ask me?”
Zanka found it annoying how easily Follo took reign of the conversation. A quality that Zanka thinks was honed from working as a supporter. A big part of their job is communication after all.
Zanka shook his head.
“Good. Cause I also have a question, or rather request.”
Zanka curious to what that could entail.
“And that is…?”
Follo continued, “Would you be able to offer me some insight on my instrument?”
“What, like sparring?”
“Not quite what I had in mind but yeah, we can do that if that's what'll help you give me better pointers.”
Zanka doesn't need any persuasion. If it's about vital instruments, he's in.
They agreed to meet each other in the courtyard in an hour.
–
Follo stomped at the ground with his boot, making sure it was snug.
“Ready?” He asked, giving a thumbs up.
Zanka replying, “Yup,” as he made sure his zipper was tightened all the way.
Follo widened into a fighting stance.
“Don't go easy on me now, alright?”
Zanka quietly chuckled to himself, standing leisurely. Surely Follo knew what that meant.
“Sure. Whatever ya say.”
Follo suffered three losses. All pitiful. The last round ending as the head of Assistaff caged the lower half of his frame underneath, and Alan landing a couple feet away, just out of reach.
That didn't stop Follo from trying to reach it, though. Straining as his index finger barely missed the handle.
Zanka admired the persistence, but if this were a real fight between them it would've been over before it even started.
Placing both palms on top of each other at the end of the handle and resting his chin on them, Zanka watched idly as Follo persisted to contend against the weight of Assistaff.
Taking this time to question his relationship with Follo. As his comrade… Obviously.
They were on friendly terms but he wasn’t particularly close with him. And come to think of it, Zanka doesn't know jack about Follo. Has no idea what he's really like underneath the surface.
Superficially, he's a reliable guy, hard worker, friendly.
As Zanka became lost in thought, his eyes just so happened to rest on the side of Follo's face that tilted upwards, following the angle of his arm still stubbornly trying to get a grasp on Alan.
Follo finally gave up, exhaling with a grunt. Taking his eyes off Alan and finding their way to a neutral position in front of him. Where Zanka just so happened to still be staring at him, though not quite focused. A little off-center.
Zanka kept staring.
Follo took advantage of this momentary break in attention by squinting his eyes, pointing behind Zanka, and shouting, “What's that?”
The volume of Follo's voice was just enough to ground Zanka back into the present, quickly looking over his shoulder in reaction to the exclamation to see..
Nothing.
Follo was also far from being a genius, and in a way, Zanka means that as a compliment.
“Seriously?”
Follo's mouth curved into a silly smile, followed by a laugh, “I can’t even believe that worked.”
Zanka eased the pressure off Assistaff, lending a hand to help Follo up to his feet.
Follo promptly taking it, dusting his clothes off with his free hand as he rose to stand.
“You distracted?”
Zanka flinching at the comment, “No?”
Zanka felt his heart flutter as Follo happened to lock eyes with him.
“Seemed pretty distracted to me.”
Zanka feels like he's learning more about Follo already. He added a new word to his new ongoing list.
Annoying.
“Ok,” Zanka resting two fingers to his forehead, before releasing them to direct at Follo, “is this on purpose?”
Follo put his hands up in minor surrender.
“What are you talking about?”
Zanka bit the inside of his cheek. Maybe he was reading too much into this again. Eye contact is normal. That sentence was normal. This is all normal.
“Nevamind,” Zanka backtracked, “I wasn't distracted, I was just.. tryin’ to figure out a way to tell ya how you could better handle yer instrument, in a way you'd understan’.”
Follo took his hands from the air and clapped them together, “Ok cool, hit me with it.”
Thankfully Zanka already knew what he was going to say from the moment they started, so he didn't have to worry about not having anything to back up his statement.
He relayed his findings to him. Notably about his foot placement and weight distribution needing to be concentrated on, due to the fact that Alan is considerably lighter before it tanks all the damage, compared to when it's just about to release.
“You'll need to work on that before ya consider doin’ anythin’ flashy. It's definitely a tricky thing to haul around in battle,” Zanka says as he ends his explanation.
Follo tosses Alan from one hand to the other, wearing his familiar smile. “Got it. Thanks a bunch. You're a big help.”
"Not a problem," Zanka says holding out his hand, expecting Follo to shake it, indicating the end of their session.
“...Just gimme a couple weeks and I'm sure to have surpassed you by miles," Follo joked.
Zanka knows Follo wasn't being serious, but it was funny seeing the attempt at giving weight to the words.
Zanka dropped his hand and turned his focus up towards Follo with a pinch in his brows and a faux frown. Their eyes then locking again. Only this time as an undeclared staring contest.
And no way in hell was Zanka gonna let him win.
Follo waited before mimicking the pinch in Zanka's brows, daring him to either turn away or be the first to blink.
Zanka held his focus. An easy task to do when the thing you're looking at is rather..
Nice. To look at.
Butterflies were always a rare sight on the Ground, compared to roaches and flies. He'd normally appreciate their presence, but it's rather inconvenient for them to be settling within him.
Zanka ignored the uneasy feeling developing in his chest and really hopes his cheeks haven't changed to a noticeable shade.
A considerable amount of seconds passed before Follo started to waver ever so slightly. An amused exhale escaping Zanka’s lungs, waiting for Follo to take the loss so he doesn't have to keep staring at him.
But Follo didn't. Instead, a smug expression graced his features… right before blowing a puff of air into Zanka's eyes.
Zanka stumbled backwards a step, sleeve coming up to wipe at them.
“Gotcha again,” Follo said with a bit of laughter hiding underneath his breath.
Zanka moved his arm from his face to curl an accusatory palm at Follo, “That's just plain cheatin’!”
Follo shrugged as he began to walk off, “My bad.”
But Zanka grabbed his wrist before he could depart. It seemed to startle Follo, his shoulders tensing for a split second. And Zanka could've sworn he saw the slightest smile appear on Follo's face.
Then Zanka twisted Follo’s wrist a whole one-eighty, causing Follo’s entire arm to reflexively follow the abrupt angle shift, vocalizing his discomfort with, “Ow.- ow- ow. ow-”
Zanka held with a flat expression.
Follo’s words faltered as he attempted to plead, “Ok.- Ok.- Sorry, I’m so sorry. Let goooo- pleaasee”
Zanka released his grip.
Follo massaged himself at the point of contact, breathing in a soft hiss to soothe the ache.
“Don't try me,” Zanka rebuked, a teasing undertone.
Follo shook the remaining pain off his wrist.
“Definitely. I’ll remember that for next time. Uh, see you around?”
Zanka paused. "Yeah, see ya 'round."
When Zanka made it back to his room he realized he was kinda excited to see Follo again.
...
To see how much he improves. He's excited to see how much he'll improve. And maybe a little excited to see his face again. A little.