Chapter Text
Zankas POV:
It wasn’t like he wanted to think about him, it just happened one night. Laying in bed, looking up at the ceiling of the small room that he’d been calling home ever since leaving the hell guard, leaving his family.
His hair fanned over his pillow, and his blanket had been thrown off the top half of his body. He was struggling to sleep lately- and it wasn’t because of the constant feelings of failure that ran through his head. No, he’d gotten used to that a long time ago, this was a whole new feeling.
Zanka brought his hands to his face and pressed his palms to his eyes, sighing and dragging his hands down his face. He could feel the flush on his skin and he was glad that he had the privacy of the night to hide his embarrassment.
“Jabber” Zanka whispered it like the most terrible of secrets. Ten days since they fought inside that giant flying trash beast, ten whole sleepless nights, and he still couldn’t get that lunatics voice out of his head. Jabber basically purring his name. It was like he’d been cursed or something, or like he was slowly losing his mind. Maybe he still had Mankiras poison flowing through his veins.
Honestly though jabber wasn’t the worst person to be stuck in his head, if you get rid of the fact that they’ve tried to kill each other, jabbers not that bad lookin- Zanka shut that thought down as fast as it came up- no way in hell did he just think that gross psycho was even the tiniest bit pretty.
He’d been trying to figure out why he couldn’t get that stupid smirk and those big hands around his neck outta his head, the bruise from being basically strangled by the raider was still there, you could even kinda make out where Jabbers rings had been pressed against neck- if you looked hard enough. He remembers how he inspected himself in the mirror the minute he got back to his room from the infirmary. Caressing the deep bruising, his heart beating so fast he could hear it in his ears. As he looked at all the lasting impressions that Jabber had left on him, Zanka couldn’t help the feeling that blossomed in his mind, it was like he’d been claimed by the man.
He wished it wouldn’t go away, he reached up to gently press into the bruise with his own hand, not choking himself but applying enough pressure to feel it. Every time he tried to close his eyes, it was like Jabber was right there. It was suffocating.
When he first woke up in the infirmary after the whole trash beast battle he didn’t feel the sting that he probably should have. Bandages covering stitches, and bruises littered his body. He just felt like he wanted to fight again, to put his hands all over that smug masochist, to show him that he can keep up, that they are equals. That’s when his thoughts about Jabber first started, he just thought, obviously that it was his inferiority complex rising to the surface. He had lost the fight and his ego had been stomped on once again, he’d just get over it like all the other times- is what he thought.
But the thoughts about Jabber haven’t stopped, they’ve only gotten worse, changing and morphing into something he hates to label as infatuation but if he’s being honest with himself that’s totally what it’s turned into. Disgusting. A laugh bubbles up out of Zanka, the situation is weird and so unserious that he can’t help it. It’s the only noise in the quiet of the night and soon his laughing dies out.
He’s not afraid that he’s probably super gay for Jabber, in some way. It’s deeper than that he thinks. It’s not about him just being another boy, it’s about him as a whole person. The deeper understanding of each other that sizzles under the skin, he would have liked Jabber no matter what he was- boy or not. He’s never labeled himself as anything, always to focused on doing his best, trying to prove himself. Clearly he needs to do some more self reflection, because what kinda person becomes obsessed with a freak like Jabber Wonger.
His late night thoughts never lead to anything good or productive, he hates to admit it but his fight with jabber had him feeling the most alive he’s ever felt. It’s concerning to say the least, but he’d be lying if he didn’t say that he absolutely loved it when he felt his fist or his staff connect with jabbers body, seeing how jabbers face contorted into something akin to pain.
He doesn’t like hurting people, at least he didn’t think that he did, but now he’s not so sure. Maybe it was the feeling of being finally in control for once, everytime he had the upper hand.
The worst part of it, is that jabber called him out on it, figured it out before Zanka did himself. Calling him a sadist. He feels seen in some type of sickening way, how could someone that hardly knows him figure him out that fast. He despises it but at the same time it’s the most free he’s ever felt.
Taking a deep breath in, he flips to his side, slowly reaching his hand out to slide it along his lovely staff that leans against the wall beside his bed. Quietly saying goodnight to her before bringing his hand back to his chest. He always makes sure to wish her a goodnight before he sleeps, never breaking routine. He’s not ashamed to admit that he’s totally co-dependent when it comes to her. Sometimes it feels like she’s the only one he can rely on.
His mind drifts to Mankira, Jabber’s rings, that rest upon his slender but strong fingers. Is Jabber just as attached to his rings as Zanka is to his staff? Does he slip her off his fingers and gently polish the rings one by one? Zanka plays with his fingers imagining the rings adorning his own fingers instead of Jabbers. It would probably be comforting, always having that second half of you right on your skin like that, hardly ever leaving you.
He feels the soft grip of disappointment creep in, as he wonders if jabber even had a single thought about him since the fight. Probably not, which is what’s likely best for Zanka’s sake if they were ever to go head to head again, but it still sends a pang of hurt to his heart. He doesn’t know what he would do if he ever found out Jabber thought about him even slightly in the same way Zanka thought about him.
If he’s being realistic with himself Jabber 100% hasn’t given the fight a second thought. He has a bad habit with imagining Jabber imagining him. Zanka stills feels the warmth creep back into his face at just the thought of it, before he pushes it out of his mind with minimal struggle (a big struggle)
Despite everything that’s went through his head about that loud man, Zanka knows that there’s no way in hell he’d ever be able to have any kind of relationship with Jabber, he’s a raider and that’s all he’ll ever be. NOT that he’s saying he would date Jabber if he had the chance, the guy is totally bonkers, and Zanka has responsibility’s to uphold. What kind of person would that make him if he were to run off and go date someone like Jabber?
He wraps his blanket around himself as a shiver runs up his spine. The rooms gotten colder. Darkness finally swallows him up as his eyes slowly close and his breathing evens out.
The last thing he hears is a deep voice saying that stupid nickname Jabber gave him, “hey Mr. Bad Attitude” it sounded a little too real, like it was whispered in his ear, but sleep took him away before he could dwell on it.