“ Take a break, will ya? ”
⇢Synopsis: After hours of running yourself ragged, you pushed past your limits—yet Zanka's arms held you steady, care and concern in every motion, his worry for you impossible to hide.
In this HQ—the cleaners HQ, all they gotta do is to keep on working. Their days were split between handling missions, writing reports and filing paperwork, treating patients, and whatever life they had left.
You were sure, even determined to finish them in just a day. Besides, helping out the cleaners once they arrived from their grueling missions was something you usually did: bringing them tea, or whatever they felt like drinking, sometimes massaging their really stiff shoulders as well.
Turns out, that takes more effort than it sounds.
Zanka always seems to notice everything—you hurrying from place to place, helping everyone, multitasking like it's nothing.
And why aren't you exhausted?
Maybe you were...yet you never said a word about it.
Along with your other tasks, you lug reports and paperwork toward Semiu—the receptionist—or even Corvus, the boss. Your chest carries a precarious stack of forms as a few sheets quietly escape your grip.
Multitasking was either your talent…or a trainwreck. You'd often get waaay too exhausted from scuttling around like a caffeine-fueled squirrel, patching up cleaners if they ever get injured, handing out trays of drinks, snacks, or anything they need to restore their batteries.
Regardless of everything, at least someone's working hard here.
Let's say…you finally plopped onto the lounge—not even seated when someone immediately called for you. Great. You barely set your ass down before they yelled. Perfect timing.
You thought it was finally over—until semiu requested you to clean the HQ.
As in, mop the entire floor? The hallways? Every room? Every dormitory?
You need her to say sike right now.
…Even saying no won't keep it from happening, and now you're dragging the mop across the floor sluggishly, wondering why anyone would ever ask you to do this.
The HQ felt stupidly endless—corridors, dorms, rooms. The mop traced the same tired path through hallway after hallway.
Man, you were really wiped out.
Crickets chirped somewhere outside as you mopped the floor in front of the mess hall doors, movements languid.
You've got zero clue what time it is.
Your body slightly swayed, bracing a free hand against the wall to catch your balance.
You weren't sure how much longer you could keep going. At this point, you couldn't even lift the mop properly anymore, the handle trembling faintly in your hand.
A shadow suddenly fell over you, you looked back over your shoulder listlessly, brain barely functioning.
“Zanka…?” You murmured, voice barely above a whisper. Finally turning around to face him directly.
Zanka, in his casual clothes, looked completely different to you. Bangs falling lazily over his forehead, a little messy, not that he cared.
His eyes narrowed as he took in your enervated state.
“Ya been moppin’ for about 4 hours.”
“…Yeah. Has it been that long?”
“Obviously. And damn, not even a complaint, huh?”
You fiddled with the hem of your shirt, tugging at it absentmindedly, exhaling through your nose like a silent complaint.
“Semiu asked me to. I also…didn't want to tire out the custodians, so I just...went ahead and did it.”
“Goodness,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes briefly. “Take a break, will ya? Ya look like a mess. It's literally their job—that’s what they get paid for. What's with the martyr routine?”
“Hey…they could use a break too. Honestly, these hallways are never-ending...I just wanted to help.” You swayed slightly, eyelids drooping.
His hand flexed faintly, bracing just in case.
“Uh-huh...stance...yeah...that's it," you mumbled, waving one hand vaguely, the mop nearly slipping from the other.
But then—you tipped forward, exhaustion immediately dragging you down.
Zanka was hasty enough to jump into action. His arms were already around you, one at your waist, the other bracing your upper back, holding you close. Your head thudding softly against his chest, cheek brushing warm fabric.
One arm adjusted, guiding the mop out of your hand gently, then propping it against the wall without loosening his hold on you.
“Hey, hey...easy. Told ya to rest hours ago, but nah—ya just had tah keep goin'. Now look at ya.”
You leaned up to his shoulder, letting out a tired hum. Your eyes wouldn't even open, not with how drained you felt.
He hummed quietly in response, gently brushing your bangs back. His frown deepened, eyebrows knitting together as worry washed over him.
At last, you let yourself admit it.
After darting around relentlessly all day, bouncing from chores to reports to everyone else's problems, you were running on fumes. A single break didn't seem like too much to ask.
You had run yourself ragged all day. For what, exactly?
You couldn't even remember what you've already finished.
All that effort...yet no one saw.
But zanka, he had caught the signs of your weary state from the start, running everyone’s errands—even the simplest one. Most people would've just shrugged, and said, “do it yourself.”
He wasn't relieved yet, still holding you close as you stayed limp against him.
“Ya don't gotta do it all at once,” he muttered. “Or is it that yer just tryna look out for everyone, huh?”
Your head dipped in a faint nod.
He sighed, almost inaudibly.
“I've worked hard. Ya worked hard. We all worked our asses off. A quiet moment just feels like treasure.” he combed his fingers through your hair. “That’s life. Sometimes ya get peace. Sometimes ya don't. Ya just keep on movin'—even when the tank's empty.”
He wasn't wrong. Even you had your own limits. You couldn't keep giving and giving forever. Push too long, and life pushes back.
Slowly, your eyes peeled open, meeting his gaze.
“Zanka…” his name rolled out, tired and meek, making his heart skip a beat.
“You guys…every single day. Just…doing everything. Missions, tasks…and stuff…I don't know how you do it,” your words drifted out, soft and dragged, almost fading before they reached him. “You guys deserve some breaks.”
Zanka didn't interrupt. Didn't sigh, didn't move. No matter how exhausted you were, no matter what you spilled out, he held you close, steady as ever.
His arm tightened around your waist marginally. “Quit worryin’ about everyone else,” he muttered. “Take care of yerself for once.”
“You're…worried about me…?”
“Yeah…didn't take much to notice that.”
“Oh…” you murmured, letting your eyelashes fall as your gaze drifted downwards.
You were falling before your brain even caught up.
Zanka immediately lowered himself to your sudden weight, both arms around your waist in a heartbeat—while your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers brushing lightly against his back, letting him support your weight.
“Ah…” you murmured, a faint crease forming between your brows as you leaned onto him, eyes drifting closed.
“Hey, ya alright??? Can ya stand at all?” His brows furrowed, concern clear in his voice as he kept a firm hold on your waist.
You meekly shook your head, resting your cheek in the crook of his neck.
“Legs…ache so much…” you breathed shakily, collapsing fully against him.
His fingers brushed against your side, adjusting his hold as his eyes flickered to your knees.
Your eyes cracked open slightly at the unexpected question, catching his gaze. Flustered—yet too tired to think much of it—you gave a small, faint nod.
Zanka lowered himself slightly, one arm slipping beneath your knees, and another settled behind your back, lifting you carefully against his chest with quiet care.
Your fingers curled weakly into his shirt while your other hand lay limp against yourself, your weight slowly melting into his hold.
You bit your lips slightly, unsure.
“I hope I'm not too heavy...”
“Too heavy? Don't think like that. Yer fine.”
If Enjin sees them like this...Zanka's snatching you up, already running—no questions asked.
He stepped forward, gaze fixed ahead, moving carefully while keeping you secure in his arms.
“Semiu better start givin’ ya some real breaks,” he muttered. “Work's work, but this is just fuckin’ insane.”
He adjusted his grip, settling you more securely in his hold.
“Keep this up and you'll need a whole month just to recover. And quit sayin' yes to every damn favor they throw at ya. Hear?”
You gave a tiny nod, eyes drifting downwards, lashes brushing against his shirt as your cheek settled softly.
He quickly glanced down at you, noting how tired you looked…and how quietly beautiful you were, even in this exhaustion, before returning his gaze ahead.
“Quit lookin' so down. I'm just lookin' out for ya, that's all.”
“It's not that. I just feel, y'know…cared for.”
“Yeah. I...like that you worry about me. Feels nice when someone fusses over you, watches out for you, and stuff…”
“Right. Feels good sometimes.”
“You're so caring, Zanka.”
You offered a small, weary smile, lifting your head slightly so he could see it. The corner of your lips gently curved upward as your eyes glimmered softly, quietly thanking him.
He looked down at you, eyes widening a fraction as he took in the small, tired gesture, the kind of endearing look that made him catch his breath.
A blush suddenly crept across his face. He swallowed, tilting his head back just enough to mask it, exhaling slowly to regain his composure before looking ahead.
And you definitely noticed it.
He cleared his throat, trying not to melt.
Keep it cool, man. Keep it cool.
“Yeah. Next time, ya rest. Every last thing's on them.”
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