𝑴𝒚 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝑩𝒆𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔 (𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖)
Pairing: Zanka Nijiku x Reader (2nd POV)
Synopsis: A good boyfriend will do whatever it takes to make his girlfriend happy... Even if it means sneaking out and taking Enjin’s jeep.
Warnings/Tags/Notes: Implied relationship, Fluff, a kiss or two,
- 🎶 Fade Into You:: Mazzy Star
- 🎶 Space Song: Beach House
- 🎶 Some things Cosmic: Angel Olsen
- 🎶 Always Forever: Cults
- 🎶 painted skies: elaine
- 🎬 Project Hail Mary (Cinematography)
You had always loved the sky in a way that felt embarrassing to admit out loud.
Not the sky people talked about casually, not the dull stretch of gray hanging above the Ground or the polluted haze smeared over the slums like bruised watercolor. You loved the idea of the sky. The unreachable thing above you. The endless thing. The promise of something better waiting beyond the rot.
As a child, you used to stare upward until your neck ached, pretending the cracks between buildings were constellations. Pretending the flicker of broken neon signs were stars. You wanted desperately to believe there was more than this place, more than rusted metal, grime beneath your nails, the smell of smoke soaked into your clothes no matter how many times you washed them.
People called it foolishness.
Yearning did not keep you fed. Dreaming did not keep you alive. Still, you continued.
Maybe that was why the books affected you so deeply when you found them during a mission.
They had been buried beneath heaps of ruined junk and fractured glass, tucked carefully inside a half-collapsed cabinet as if someone once loved them enough to protect them from the world. Their covers were warped from age, pages yellowed and delicate beneath your fingertips. Most people would have thrown them aside. Deemed as worthless paper and dead weight.
But when you opened the first one, your chest tightened so painfully you almost forgot to breathe.
Galaxies spilled across the pages in faded ink.
Swirls of violet and blue. Stars clustered like diamonds scattered across velvet. Sketches of planets ringed in silver. Nebulas blooming like watercolor dreams.
There were handwritten notes in the margins too, little observations from someone long gone. Distances measured in lightyears. Names of constellations. Tiny exclamations written beside especially beautiful photographs, as though the person before you had been unable to contain their awe.
You understood them immediately.
You carried those books back with you hidden beneath your coat like stolen treasure.
And afterward, on nights when the noise of the world became unbearable, you would open them carefully beside your dim light and lose yourself inside them. You traced your fingers over sketches of stars no human eye in this place could ever see. You memorized the names of galaxies. You learned about collapsing suns and celestial bodies that burned for billions of years before dying quietly in the dark.
It comforted you in a way nothing else ever had.
Because the universe was enormous.
And if the universe could hold things that beautiful, then maybe life was not meant to be this cruel forever.
Maybe somewhere beyond the filth and violence and suffocating walls, there existed a softer world.
You became greedy for it. Greedy for every impossible thing. And perhaps that was why Zanka looked at you the way he did sometimes.
As if he recognized the ache inside you because he carried the same one himself.
The room had long since gone quiet.
It was never ever truly silent in the cleaners’ headquarters, but it softened. Pipes hummed somewhere in the walls. Footsteps occasionally echoed through distant hallways. The land outside breathed in its usual tired rhythm, muffled behind cracked windows and rusted metal.
You lay curled beneath Zanka’s blankets, warm despite the chill that always lingered in the building at night.
Your eyes were closed, though not asleep.
Across the room, water dripped steadily from the rag Zanka rinsed in the sink. You listened to the familiar sounds of him moving around his room, the shift of fabric, the soft scrape of metal, the low sigh he always made when he was tired.
Earlier that evening, Enjin had laughed himself breathless when Zanka announced he was going to bed at nine.
“Old man behavior,” he had called it.
Zanka threatened to hit him. Guita encouraged the argument. Rudo looked one comment away from throwing all three of them out a window.
You smiled to yourself at the memory.
The mattress dipped slightly beside you. A warm hand settled carefully against your shoulder.
“It’s time,” Zanka whispered.
Your eyes opened immediately.
He was already looking down at you, dark eyes softer than the dim room deserved. His hair was still slightly damp around the edges from washing up, the loose strands shadowing his face. There was something boyish about him like this; quiet, careful, trying and failing to hide his excitement.
You smiled sleepily and reached toward him without thinking. His fingers slid into yours automatically, helping pull you upright.
“You weren’t asleep,” he murmured.
There was faint amusement in his voice. The kind reserved only for you.
Zanka reached toward the nightstand and grabbed a ring of keys, quickly shoving them into his pocket before anyone could magically appear and accuse him of theft.
Though considering Guita had very proudly handed them over earlier with the words “I expect compensation for my crimes,” theft was probably the correct term.
You stood, wrapping the blanket tighter around your shoulders while Zanka checked the hallway outside his room.
“Coast is clear,” he whispered dramatically.
You snorted softly. Then, with quiet footsteps and stifled laughter, the two of you slipped into the hallway together.
The headquarters looked different this late at night. The harshness faded in the dark. The flickering lights no longer felt irritating but sleepy. Even the usual chaos seemed exhausted enough to rest.
By the time you reached the lobby, you almost thought you had succeeded unnoticed.
Semiu sat behind the front desk, lazily flipping through magazines beneath the weak yellow light overhead. She looked half a second away from clocking out entirely.
Then she glanced up and her eyes narrowed immediately. “…Why do you both look suspicious?”
Zanka straightened beside you with all the confidence of someone who was absolutely guilty. “We don’t.”
Her gaze dropped toward the blanket wrapped around you, then to the keys partially sticking out from Zanka’s pocket.
A long silence followed, “…Where are you going?”
You and Zanka exchanged a glance. Neither of you answered right away because the truth sounded ridiculous.
Because saying "we’re leaving the headquarters at midnight just to look at stars barely visible through pollution because we want to pretend there’s something beautiful beyond all this" felt far too fragile spoken aloud.
Zanka scratched the back of his neck, “Somewhere…”
Semiu stared at him flatly, “That tells me nothing.”
Another silence followed before she sighed the sigh of someone deeply accustomed to dealing with idiots and slowly leaned back down in her chair.
“Fine,” she muttered. “But if Enjin realizes his keys are missing, don’t expect me to fully defend either of you.”
Zanka pretended not to hear that.
Semiu rubbed her temple before looking between the two of you again, her expression softening just slightly. “What time are you coming back?”
Zanka paused to think. You watched his profile quietly, the way he always considered things seriously, even small things. The faint furrow between his brows. The way his hand absentmindedly brushed against yours like he needed the contact.
Semiu pointed at him immediately,,“If you’re late, I’m locking the doors.”
Zanka grumbled something dramatic in response before quickly taking your hand again. “C’mon,” he whispered.
And before anyone else could spot the two of you sneaking out into the night, Zanka pulled you through the headquarters doors and into the sleeping night beyond.
The moment the two of you climbed into the jeep, the world seemed to grow quieter.
The doors shut with a soft metallic thud, sealing you both inside the cold interior. The seats smelled faintly of oil and worn leather, the dashboard illuminated by weak amber lights that flickered every few seconds. Outside, the headquarters loomed behind the windshield, all rusted shadows and dim windows.
You pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulders while Zanka slid into the driver’s seat beside you.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. You noticed it; however, his hesitation. It was small, almost unnoticeable, but his hand lingered strangely on the keys. His shoulders had gone stiff. His eyes narrowed at the steering wheel like it had personally insulted him.
You pressed your lips together to stop yourself from laughing.
Zanka inserted the key into the ignition with the concentration of someone diffusing a bomb.
The engine coughed violently and he took the key out in fright. Slowly, carefully, he tried again. This time the jeep rumbled awake beneath you both, grumbling loud enough that the two of you instinctively glanced toward the headquarters entrance.
Zanka exhaled quietly in relief. He placed both hands on the wheel, very firmly like the jeep might escape him otherwise.
Your shoulders shook slightly with restrained laughter.
Zanka noticed immediately, “…What?”
You turned toward him, smiling far too knowingly for his liking. “…You’ve never driven before.” It wasn’t even phrased as a question.
His ears burned almost instantly. “I have,” he said defensively. “…Once.”
That made you laugh properly. Not loudly, you still had to avoid getting caught, but enough that your head dipped forward and warmth bloomed across your face. The sound filled the jeep beautifully, soft and bright and impossibly affectionate.
Zanka groaned quietly. “Don’t do that.”
“Laugh at me while I’m operating dangerous machinery.”
“You looked scared of the key.”
“I was assessing the situation.”
His embarrassment only deepened, though there was no real irritation behind it. If anything, he looked relieved to hear you laughing this much. Like every ounce of teasing was worth it for that sound alone.
“…It’s not embarrassing,” he muttered after a moment. “I just never had a reason to learn.”
You softened immediately. Of course he hadn’t. Most people here never went anywhere far enough to need driving. Survival did not leave much room for leisurely skills. Besides, Enjin was practically everyone's chauffeur.
Still, watching Zanka sit painfully upright with both hands glued to the wheel was adorable enough to nearly kill you.
“You’re doing great,” you whispered teasingly.
“I haven’t even moved yet.”
“You’re surviving beautifully.”
You reached over and gently nudged his shoulder with yours beneath the dim glow of the dashboard lights.
His expression eased instantly at the contact. With the seriousness of someone embarking on a life-threatening mission, Zanka cautiously tested the pedals beneath his feet.
The jeep lurched forward.
“…Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. I understand it now.”
You buried your face into the blanket to hide another laugh while Zanka very carefully, painfully carefully, guided the jeep away from headquarters.
The tires rolled quietly across the dirt.
His shoulders remained tense for the first several minutes, eyes locked forward with unwavering concentration. Occasionally the jeep drifted slightly too close to one side and he would immediately overcorrect with the intensity of a man steering through a battlefield.
You watched him from the passenger seat, smiling softly into the dark.
Because despite the awkward turns and jerky stops, despite the obvious inexperience, there was something unbearably tender about this.
Zanka had stolen keys, bribed Guita into assisting crimes, snuck you out past curfew, and was currently teaching himself how to drive in the middle of the night.
All because he wanted to show you the stars.
By the time Zanka finally parked the jeep, the HQ felt far away. Distant enough that the constant clanging of metal and shouting voices faded into a low murmur carried by the wind. The air smelled different here too. Less like smoke. Less like rot.
One of the few places where the ground was not buried beneath mountains of trash and lurking dangers.
The engine clicked softly as it cooled. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then Zanka climbed out first and walked around to your side of the jeep before opening the door.
“Careful,” he said automatically, holding out a hand.
You placed your hand in his, smiling when his fingers curled securely around yours.
The night air was colder here.
It slipped beneath your clothes and brushed against your cheeks while you looked around at the open stretch of land surrounding you both. Sparse patches of dead grass pushed through cracked earth. Rusted debris sat abandoned far off in the distance like old bones.
But above you, the sky stretched endlessly.
Zanka followed your gaze quietly before nudging the side of the jeep with his hip.
You barely had time to react before his hands settled at your waist. Strong arms lifted you effortlessly upward.
You laughed softly in surprise while he helped push you onto the roof of the jeep, blanket bundled awkwardly in your arms. The metal creaked beneath your weight.
One settled, Zanka grabbed the edge and climbed up beside you with practiced ease. Immediately, he wiped at the surface with the sleeve of his jacket, brushing away dust and dirt before lying down beside you anyway as if he realized halfway through that it was pointless.
You smiled and spread the blanket over both of you. The warmth of his shoulder pressed against yours instantly. And together, the two of you looked upward. It was not breathtaking in the way old books described.
Clouds of pollution still smeared across the sky in uneven layers, soft gray drifting over the dark like watered-down paint. The heavens above the Ground were wounded things, choked by years of smoke and decay.
But still, there were little specks of white.
Tiny stars blinking weakly through the haze. And behind the clouds, deeper stretches of black appeared in soft blotches, like watercolor bleeding through paper.
Your chest tightened painfully at the sight.
Because even now, even hidden behind pollution and ruin, the sky was still trying to be beautiful.
Beside you, Zanka rested his hands behind his head and exhaled slowly. “Told you we’d see something,” His voice came out quieter here, as if speaking too loudly might scare the stars away.
You turned your head slightly toward him.
The wind pushed strands of his hair across his face. His eyes reflected faint pieces of light from above, dark and warm and impossibly gentle when he looked back at you.
And suddenly you understood something. Zanka was looking at you the same way you looked at the sky. Like you were something distant and precious. Something worth searching for despite everything obscuring the view. Something that made surviving this world feel bearable.
“You’re staring,” he murmured.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Then he reached beneath the blanket until his hand found yours. His fingers intertwined with yours naturally, instinctively, like they belonged there.
Above you, tiny stars flickered weakly through polluted clouds. But beside you, warm beneath the same blanket, Zanka smiled softly at the sky as though this moment alone had made all the trouble worth it.
The two of you stayed there in silence. The sacred kind that settled naturally between people who understood each other beyond words.
The wind softened as the an hour passed. Somewhere far away, metal groaned faintly in the sleeping city, but here the world felt suspended, untouched for just a little while.
And slowly, almost shyly, the sky began to clear. The polluted clouds drifted apart in thin streaks, peeling back inch by inch like curtains being drawn open for the first time in years.
You noticed it before Zanka did. Your fingers tightened around his hand.
“Look…” Your voice was barely above a whisper.
Above you, the heavens deepened into something endless. A true, vast black that stretched farther than your mind could comprehend. It swallowed the world whole, enormous and ancient and alive in a way nothing below it had ever been.
And scattered across that endless dark were stars.
Tiny freckles of white splashed carelessly across the sky like paint flicked from a brush. Some glowed faint and timid while others burned brighter, tinged softly with pale yellow or icy blue. They pulsed gently against the dark, distant and unwavering.
You stared breathlessly because no drawing in your books had ever captured the feeling of seeing them truly alive.
There were clusters of stars gathered together so densely they resembled spilled glitter, and emptier stretches where the darkness looked impossibly deep, as though the universe itself had torn open there.
Faint brushes of color stretched between them.
A deeper blue woven carefully into the black. Thin veils of dark violet swirling softly near the horizon. Cloud-like streaks that looked almost painted by hand.
Nebulas. Or at least fragments of them visible from this broken world.
You felt impossibly small beneath it. Small in the gentlest way. A tiny living thing witnessing something infinite.
Beside you, Zanka had gone completely still. You turned your head slightly toward him. The stars reflected faintly in his eyes.
He was staring upward with an expression you had only seen a handful of times before, stripped bare of sarcasm, noise, and bravado. Wonder looked achingly beautiful on him.
Like this was the first time he had allowed himself to believe something lovely could exist untouched by violence.
The wind stirred his hair softly.
“…It’s bigger than I thought,” he admitted quietly.
You smiled without taking your eyes off the sky. “Yeah,” The word barely left your lips.
Because how could language possibly contain this?
The universe stretched endlessly above you both, ancient light traveling impossible distances just to reach your eyes tonight. Some of those stars were probably already dead. Some galaxies likely no longer existed as you looked at them now.
And yet their light remained. Still reaching. Still yearning.
The thought made your chest ache.
Zanka shifted beside you until your shoulders pressed fully together beneath the blanket. His hand tightened around yours instinctively, grounding himself there.
“I get it now,” he murmured. “The books.” His gaze stayed fixed upward. “Why you love this stuff so much.”
There was no teasing in his voice. No judgment. Only quiet understanding. You swallowed hard. The stars blurred slightly in your vision.
“It makes me feel…” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “Like there has to be more than this.”
The confession slipped out softer than intended. Zanka turned his head toward you then.
The sky painted faint silver across his face, catching in the curve of his lashes and the blue of his eyes. He looked so unbearably tender in that moment it almost hurt to look at him directly.
“There is,” he said immediately. “As long as you’re here,” he continued quietly, “there is.”
The wind passed over the two of you again, colder now, but Zanka only pulled the blanket higher around your shoulders without taking his eyes off you.
Above him, galaxies bloomed faintly across the heavens like bruised watercolor. And all at once, you realized something devastatingly simple. You had spent your entire life yearning for distant stars while someone beside you was already looking at you like you were one.
The longer you stared upward, the more the sky revealed itself.
What first looked empty slowly bloomed with impossible detail. Tiny scattered stars multiplied endlessly the longer your eyes adjusted, hidden lights surfacing from the dark one by one. Entire rivers of starlight stretched faintly overhead, pale and dusted silver, like someone had dragged a brush across black ink.
Some stars trembled softly against the atmosphere, their light wavering delicately like candle flames caught in wind. Others burned sharp and steady, ancient pinpricks untouched by the ruined world below.
And there, the moon emerged slowly from behind drifting clouds. It hung low in the sky, enormous and luminous, washed in muted ivory with soft shadows marbling its surface. The polluted haze blurred its edges slightly, surrounding it with a faint glowing halo that made it look almost dreamlike.
Moonlight spilled across the wasteland in thin silver veils. Across rusted metal. Across dead grass. Across Zanka.
You turned toward him instinctively. The pale light softened everything about him. It caught against the sharp lines of his face, gentled the roughness of old scars, painted silver along the dark strands of his hair. His eyes reflected the moon strangely bright, softer than you had ever seen them.
And he was already looking at you. The realization made warmth bloom beneath your ribs.
For a moment neither of you spoke. The wind moved quietly around the jeep, carrying the distant hum of the sleeping place far away beneath the endless heavens.
Then Zanka shifted upright beside you. The blanket slid slightly from his shoulders as he leaned back against the roof rack behind him, one knee bent lazily. His hand remained tangled with yours for another second before he reluctantly let go only to reach toward your face instead.
His fingers brushed your hair carefully. So carefully as if he were touching something sacred. You felt his knuckles graze your cheek as he tucked loose strands behind your ear, the motion uncharacteristically slow. Tender enough to make your chest ache.
“You’ve got moonlight all over you,” he murmured quietly.
Your heart stumbled painfully. The words were so simple, yet the way he said them felt devastating. Like he genuinely could not look away from you.
You smiled shyly, lowering your gaze for half a second before looking back toward him. “You’re staring again.”
“I know.” No embarrassment this time.
The moonlight painted soft silver across his lashes as his hand lingered against the side of your face. Warm thumb brushing your skin absentmindedly. His expression had gone quiet in that dangerous way of his, the kind that always felt like standing too close to something enormous, just impossible to ignore.
“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, like the confession surprised even him.
The words settled somewhere deep inside you. Above you, stars stretched endlessly across the heavens. The moon glowed pale and enormous overhead. And between both of you, the world narrowed into something unbearably small and intimate.
Just his hand against your cheek. Just his breathing. Just the way he looked at you like he had discovered something worth protecting.
Slowly, almost hesitant despite everything, Zanka leaned closer. You could feel the warmth radiating from him even through the cold night air. His gaze flickered briefly toward your lips before returning to your eyes, silently asking.
You answered by leaning in first.
The kiss was small. Soft enough to barely exist at first. Just the gentle press of his lips against yours beneath the moonlight. And yet it felt enormous.
Zanka exhaled quietly against your mouth like he had been holding that breath for far too long. His hand slid carefully into your hair, fingers cradling the back of your head while he kissed you again, slower this time, warmer.
Tender in the way starlight is tender. Quiet enough that it almost hurt.
When he finally pulled back, he stayed close enough that your foreheads rested together. Above you, galaxies burned across the endless dark. But neither of you looked away from each other.
Back at headquarters, the lobby lights buzzed weakly against the late-night quiet.
Semiu sat slouched behind the front desk with the posture of someone spiritually thirty years into retirement. One boot rested against the chair beside her as she halfheartedly sorted magazines into piles she had or hadn't seen.
The clock on the wall read 1:07 AM.
The front doors suddenly slammed open hard enough to make her flinch.
Enjin stormed inside. “…Semiu.” His voice already sounded accusatory.
She didn’t look up right away. “…What.”
Enjin marched toward the desk with the frantic energy of a man seconds away from uncovering a government conspiracy. “Have you seen my keys? My jeep isn't at the front.”
Semiu lazily flipped another page. “No.”
Enjin froze. Not because he thought she was lying. But because she answered too fast. His eyes narrowed immediately as his brain visibly began retracing every decision he’d made that evening.
“I left them here earlier,” he muttered, mostly to himself. “No, wait—Guita was sitting near them at one point, but she was busy laughing with Riyo over cards, so unless she suddenly developed stealth skills—”
His expression shifted abruptly. “…Wait.”
Semiu already knew where this was going. Slowly, reluctantly, she looked up from a magazine.
Enjin leaned over the desk dramatically. “Have you seen Zanka?”
Semiu considered several responses. Technically, yes. Emotionally, unfortunately. Legally, she preferred not to answer. “…Maybe,” she said at last.
Enjin stared at her before his eyes widened in dawning horror. “No way. NO WAY.” He pointed at her like she had personally orchestrated the crime.
“That’s just borrowing with confidence.”
Enjin clutched the front of his shirt like he’d been betrayed by family. “That little— Where did he GO?”
Before he could spiral any further, Semiu sighed and finally set the paperwork aside.
“Relax,” she said. “They’ll be back soon.”
“HUH?!” The shout echoed through the entire lobby. “THEY?!” he practically screeched. “What do you mean they? They’re out together? Where? Since when? Why are they alone at night? Why was I not informed of this operation?!”
Semiu pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re being loud.”
“He figured it out eventually.”
Enjin looked moments away from stress-induced collapse. His hands flew wildly as he continued rambling. “What if they crash the jeep? What if Zanka panics and drives into a wall? What if they get attacked? What if he says something stupid? Actually, wait—he definitely already said something stupid—”
Enjin paced in front of the desk now, muttering to himself in escalating distress. “This is terrible. This is catastrophic. Why would he even sneak out in the middle of the night—”
Semiu finally snapped. "Oh my god,” she groaned. “Will you let Zanka be a man and experience love for five minutes?”
Enjin stopped dead and the lobby fell silent. Even the buzzing overhead light seemed quieter somehow.
“…Love,” he repeated blankly.
Semiu immediately regretted phrasing it like that. She looked away first. “You know what I mean.”
Enjin looked genuinely shaken to his core now, as though the idea of Zanka experiencing romance had never once occurred to him as a realistic possibility. Then again, he was always with you so it was a given.
“…Zanka?” he said weakly. “Our Zanka?”
“Yes, Enjin. The one currently committing grand theft auto for hand-holding purposes."
Semiu rubbed harder at her temples. Enjin slowly turned back toward the front doors, staring out into the sleeping city with the expression of a father realizing his child had grown up too fast.
“…He really likes her,” he murmured.
Semiu’s expression softened faintly despite herself. “Yeah,” she admitted quietly.
The peace was short lived as Enjin gasped dramatically all over again. “WAIT. THEY’RE ALONE WATCHING STARS RIGHT NOW, AREN’T THEY?”
Semiu blinked. “…How did you figure that out?"
“Because he’s pathetic.” Enjin pointed accusingly toward the night outside. “Romantically pathetic. He’s absolutely up there looking at her like they personally invented happiness.”
Semiu stared at him for a long moment.
Then, against her will, she let out a quiet hum of a laugh. “…You’re not wrong.”
The jeep’s engine rumbled faintly outside before finally cutting off into silence. Inside headquarters, Enjin was still pacing while Semiu had long since returned to her usual 'readings'.
“Well?” Enjin demanded for probably the fiftieth time. “Should we go look for them? What if they drove into a ditch? What if Zanka got nervous and accidentally proposed marriage—”
The front doors opened. Both of them looked up immediately.
Zanka stepped inside quietly, exhaustion clinging to him from head to toe. His hair was wind-tousled, his jacket half unzipped, and Enjin already opened his mouth with a grin forming.
“Oh, there he is,” he started. “So, Casanova finally retu—”
The rest of the sentence died instantly. Because curled against Zanka’s chest, wrapped securely in his blanket, was you. Sleeping.
The entire lobby fell silent. Even Enjin shut up. Zanka’s arms tightened instinctively around you as he stepped through the doorway. His heartbeat immediately spiked the second he saw Enjin still standing there.
Please don’t yell. For once in your life, please don’t yell.
Your face was half-hidden beneath the blanket, breathing slow and even against his chest. Completely unaware of the disaster waiting two feet away from you.
Enjin stared, then stared harder. His expression shifted rapidly through confusion, disbelief, emotional devastation, and something dangerously close to witnessing a religious experience.
Semiu glanced up once from her desk. “Oh,” she said flatly. “She fell asleep.”
Unlike Enjin, she returned to her business immediately. Zanka didn’t answer. Very carefully, trying not to jostle you awake, he pulled Enjin’s keys from his pocket and tossed them toward him without a word.
Enjin caught them automatically. Still staring and definitely still processing. Zanka didn’t stop walking. He moved past them both at almost alarming speed, boots thudding quickly against the hallway floor as he headed straight for his room like a man fleeing a crime scene.
Enjin slowly looked down at the keys in his hand. Then back toward the hallway. Then back at Semiu.
“…Did that actually just happen,” he asked weakly, “or am I hallucinating?”
Semiu flipped another page. “If you start screaming, I’m killing you myself.”
Enjin clutched the keys dramatically against his chest. “He carried her home.”
“He wrapped her in his blanket.”
“He looked at me like a threatened animal.”
Enjin looked genuinely emotional now. “Our Zanka…”
Semiu sighed, “Go to bed, Enjin.”
Meanwhile, safely behind the closed door of his room, Zanka finally exhaled. The tension left his shoulders all at once as he crossed quietly toward the bed. The room was dim except for the warm glow of the small lamp near the wall.
Carefully, far more carefully than anyone would’ve expected from him, he lowered you onto the mattress. You shifted slightly but didn’t wake.
Zanka adjusted the blanket around you, making sure you stayed warm before awkwardly smoothing out the edges like he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. For a moment, he just stood there looking at you.
His chest tightened strangely. Then, after another second, he finally shut off the lamp. Darkness settled softly across the room.
The mattress dipped as he climbed in beside you, keeping just enough distance to avoid disturbing your sleep while still pulling part of the blanket over himself.
The exhaustion from the night finally began catching up to him. His eyes closed and just before sleep could fully drag him under—
“…Thank you.” The whisper was tiny. Barely audible.
Zanka’s eyes opened immediately. You were still half-asleep, voice soft with exhaustion, face buried halfway into the pillow. But you meant it.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Slowly, almost helplessly, the tension in his chest eased into something warm.
“…Yeah,” he murmured quietly.
And for once, Zanka fell asleep smiling.
Note: Updates/Posts will take more time because I dont have my Chromebook anymore (yes I wrote fanfic on my school computer). I hate writing on my phone because I cant easily look between two or more documents. Thank you for your patience. (I will get my own laptop soon trust.)
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