Chapter Text
Summer vacation was prime time for having a snack only diet, staying up late, and playing games with your friends. The responsibility of homework was no more, and for the next few months it was complete freedom and chaos. A summer job wasn’t an option, Jabber being too young and besides, the kid only wanted to play games until the sun peaked through his window curtains in the early hours of the morning. As much as Jabber was told to go to bed, sleep got in the way of eternal fun. And this was his exact situation.
The time could have been between 1am and 4am. But it didn’t matter because Jabber was on a roll. An 8 game win streak and MVP in every single one, his palms were sweaty and his knee bounced as he temporarily forgot the natural need to blink in order to not miss any of his shots. His eyes red and glued to his monitor screen as his character swiftly slid into cover.
He reloaded.
He peaked around the corner just in time to see a poor unfortunate player way out of position.
Another kill.
It was all too easy for Jabber, every lobby his character loaded into, every player he eliminated and teabagged, every rank he climbed until he eventually broke into a top 500 leaderboard. It was all too easy.
“Man this fucker keeps on killing me, who the fuck is this 00xMankira guy?”
“I ran into this kid like 3 games ago, except I was on his team and he carried.”
More players started using the text chat, all of them giving their opinions on Jabber's skill level, and others trying to hide their anger and jealousy by saying “stop glazing, he’s not even that good!”
Jabber couldn’t help himself, he stifled his laughter to flip his mic on and join the proximity chat. “Y’know you bitches are gettin your ass beat by a 13 year old.” The little speaker icon next to his gamertag lit up, and alongside with it the enemy players and his allies immediately started talking as well.
“Yo a fuckin squeaker is doing all this?”
“Go to bed lil bro!”
“Aye 1v1 me right now you ain’t shit!”
Jabber in response, blew air right into the microphone and laughed as the voices in his headphones screamed in annoyance. Summer time was the best. Jabber always appreciated the complete honesty of strangers on the internet, teenagers and young adults that lacked skill but definitely didn’t hold back on the angry profanities that they spat into their mic. Jabber could keep up with ease, insulting them right back and maybe making some atrociously loud noises into the microphone just to hear people on the other end scream.
But sometimes it did get boring.
Jabber and his team won the game, of course they did. Jabber finished with the highest kill count and least deaths. While the players around him could only say “thanks for the carry” and wish they were as good as him.
Jabber wanted some competition. But with the people he ran into and occasionally partied up with, they weren't anything special. Some of them could keep up but it would only last for a couple of games before they started dragging him down, making excuses like “sorry my game lagged” or “my internet went out for a second”. Maybe he needed to try a different game, or pick up a different hobby.
Jabber thought about it for maybe two seconds before clicking the ready button and loading into another game. Even if he didn’t find someone to duo with, annoying people and ruining their day because of a game was always fun.
—---
“Hey Fu’ck you! Stupid!”
“Eat shit bitch boy! This why you’ve got less kills than me!”
“Your mot’er!”
“That all you got? And why do you talk like that? Did you hit your head or something?”
The words that followed next from the player on screen was in a language that Jabber had only maybe heard on tv a handful of times, He was sure he got cursed to hell and beyond in this kid’s native language. And Jabber was sure it was a great insult, but all he could do was laugh loudly.
“What the FUCK was that? Did you just put a curse on me?”
“You need death!”
“Nah, I still haven't died yet. I gotta keep my KDA a perfect score, but I don’t think you know anythin’ ‘bout that huh squeaker?” It was ironic, Jabber’s voice had barely dropped, and the other kid definitely had a higher pitched voice than he did. A part of him felt like he had finally met his match, but he couldn't get his hopes up. The other player didn’t respond, only grumbling something in his mother tongue before speaking up, he then heard a quiet, much deeper voice, and then momentary silence before the kid spoke up again.
“You- your aim is ass!” There was a pause after every word, like the kid was trying to control his tongue and move it in a way that made his pronunciation more accurate. It wasn’t a bad attempt, but every insult that he used still sounded a bit funny and less serious because of the obvious accent.
“And your positioning is awful, this is why you keep dying and dying and dying-”
“Can you two prepubescent motherfuckers please shut the fuck up and focus on the damn game?? You both suck ass and maybe we would win a damn round if you weren't so busy trying to be more annoying than the other brat!!”
Jabber quickly blocked out the other voice that interrupted, because what do you mean they’re losing? This was supposed to be his 10th win in a row and you’re telling him they're going to lose because he got distracted yelling at some weird kid that he can barely understand? His fingers slid across the keyboard and mashed a specific key with more force than needed, his screen greyed out and the leaderboard of the current game popped onto his screen. He exhaled, relief washed over him as he saw that he still had more kills than everyone. But his eyes widened as he saw the other boy needed one more elimination to surpass him.
Jabber smiled, his mouth stretched as wide as it could until his facial muscles ached and all of his teeth showed. A small giggle escaped him as pure joy surged through his body. Seems like the other kid was actually able to keep up, just barely though.
“Aye xX_Aibo, we gotta lock the hell in, aight?”
“Lock in nani ka?”
“No, not nani ka, it's MANkira!”
Even through language differences and completely different playstyles, the two boys meshed together like it wasn’t their first time playing as a team. The mix of Jabber’s aggressive playstyle that barely gave the enemy room to breathe, and Aibo’s swift flanking and outstanding ability to headshot in quick succession quickly left the enemy team scrambling.
This specific adrenaline rush was something Jabber had yet to experience, and it was something he never wanted to stop experiencing.
And just as beams of light started pushing past his curtains, the victory screen that Jabber knew so well flashed on his monitor in bold bright letters, and right below it showcased the final score. The screen changed and this time it showed the MVPs, Jabber’s character stood, gun propped on his shoulder and score displayed under his username. And next to him was Aibo, his character raised his suppressed pistol and pointed it at the screen. His score was one point less than Jabbers.
“Well better luck next time-”
“1v1 now, bi’tch.”
Jabber couldn’t resist himself.
Before he could respond, a friend request and invite for a custom game popped up on his screen and he didn't hesitate to accept it. First to 5 wins would be deemed the victor, the map was one that was pretty popular before it got taken out of competitive rotation. It was a fan favorite so both of them knew how to navigate it pretty well, they would keep the same guns throughout the entire fight, it was a classic 1v1 set up. Jabber had lots of experience in these types of situations, countless times had players of different skill had gotten butthurt from being killed too many times, or Jabber specifically called the ones on his team out to be trash and their wounded pride would drive them to challenge Jabber, only for them to close the game in a fit of rage and potentially a broken keyboard. Jabber wondered if Aibo would end up doing the exact same thing.
____
The sun was high in the sky at this point, Jabber was running on absolutely zero sleep and his mind was only starting to get a little foggy. He lost track of how long it's been since he and Aibo started this entire 1v1. But he knows for a fact that it's been more than 5 rounds. In fact somewhere in his fuzzy memory he remembers clicking the rematch button multiple times. In between these rounds he recalls learning more things about Aibo.
His favorite gun was a suppressed pistol, he loved going in for sneaky knife kills. He leaned more towards playing quick characters than burst driven characters like Jabber. And he also learned that this guy really only knows a handful of insults
“You gotta stop sayin’ ‘your mother’.. It just sounds lame when you do.”
”No difference, I am still talk about your mother.”
“Yeah but it’s a lot funnier and cooler if you just say ‘your mom’, or ‘your momma’”.
“I don’t understand..you speak very quickly..”
“Whatever man.”
Aibo was interesting, Jabber had concluded. That’s why he felt a little disappointed when the player said he was leaving. “Goodnight? Fuck you mean goodnight? It’s like.. 9am?!”
”No, uh… it is 11 at night.”
“What?”
And before Jabber could ask for the other boy to explain himself, he left the party chat and went offline.
Jabber stared at his character. His hands froze on specific keys that he rested his fingers on out of habit. Everything was quiet and his room had a soft glow to it. He hummed quietly in thought before closing the game and turning his computer off. By now breakfast should be ready, and the thought of some actual food in his stomach felt delightful. After only surviving on snacks for the past few hours his body craved for something actually healthy and fulfilling.
He sat up from his chair and stretched, lower back popping at the extension of his body. Jabber wondered how many nights in a row he could stay up, if the other boy lived in a different timezone and the only way they could play together was if Jabber stayed up until the ungodly hours of the night. He was fully prepared to make that sacrifice, Aibo proved his skill in ways that Jabber hadn’t played against before. It was a good challenge and maybe even the dynamic duo that Jabber wanted, someone to take over the gaming world with. And if Aibo was good enough to keep up with a top 500 player, he had potential that was for sure.
He skipped down the stairs in two, feet planting loudly until he reached the bottom. His mother sat at the kitchen counter, book in hand and food already prepared on three separate plates.
Jabber knew the routine by now, he quickly said good morning and gave his mother a kiss on the cheek before making his way to his grandma’s bedroom. Minutes later Jabber was sitting at the dining table with his mom and grandma. “Mama, abuela, I made a friend on the game today!” Jabber announced around a mouth full of food, some even falling back onto the plate.
“Jabber, don't talk with your mouth full, and haven’t I told you about internet safety?” She sighed, handing her son a napkin. “Yes you have but this kid sounded even younger than me, like his voice was really high!” Jabber responded, his own voice cracking a little at the end. He cleared his throat before taking another bite of food and chewing. He swallowed, “I don’ think he could speak English well. He had an accent.”
Jabber’s grandma said something, he only caught onto a few words and quickly looked to his mother for clarification. “Abuela thinks it would be nice if you made friends outside of your computer, and you know I think I do agree. What about that nice girl across the street that moved in? Y’know the one with the headphones?”
Jabber rolled his eyes but quickly fixed his face upon the look his mother gave him, a stern look with her eyes that said “don’t roll your eyes at me boy!” He poked at his food and shrugged his shoulders, “she doesn’t seem all that interestin’”. He mumbled.
“Well I think it would be beneficial if you made a friend in the real world so that I don’ have to worry about you being friends with a 30 year old man.”
Jabber knew better than to argue, and he knew it was probably best to follow his mother’s wishes. His grandma nodded in agreement, so he could only comply. They continued chatting afterwards, talking about plans for the day and what responsibilities they needed to complete.
Jabber was promptly reminded that he can't play games all summer as he still had summer homework to complete before the next school year, which he dreaded but knew was necessary.
He just wouldn’t complete the homework until the absolute last minute.
_____
The sun was burning hot against Jabber’s skin, his muscles ached as sweat began prickling his skin. Tending to his grandma’s garden was hard work, but the older woman needed the help. And what better help was there than her young grandson who had a growing passion for learning about different plants and their effects?
“Abuela, how much longer ‘til this one needs to be watered?” He asked, eyes locked onto the thorny plant in front of him. His fingers ached to touch the thorns, but he knew that if he did it now then his grandma would only scold him. He hated getting yelled at but mixing in being scolded in a language he could barely grasp was even worse. He made a note in the back of his mind to touch the thorns at a later time when he was alone.
His grandma peered over to him, gloved hands holding a small shovel. “In two days.” She held up two fingers and Jabber hummed in confirmation, he picked up the watering can and decided to water the plants he was already instructed to care for. He already finished preening the plants that needed to be groomed. He had moved the growing plants into bigger pots. And he had made sure not to touch the plants that he was specifically told not to touch. Everything was going to plan.
What he didn’t expect was a girl to be looking at him from across the street, headphones on her head and a tired, curious look in her eyes. Jabber stared back once he noticed the attention, this was the girl that his mother and grandma wanted him to befriend. He was still reluctant to do so but he didn’t want to worry his family. To his surprise though the girl approached him first. She pointed at the flowers that sported orange petals with yellow closer to the bud, “are those Marigolds?” she asked, her voice so quiet that Jabber could almost not hear her. He looked down at the flowers, freshly watered and petals displaying a healthy shine.
“Yeah.” He responded simply, he put the watercan down and looked over to his grandma who gave him an expecting look. He held back a sigh before looking at the girl, he took in her appearance. Medium length black hair, freckles sprinkled across her cheeks and a pair of headphones on her head, the ear cushions were a deep red while the headband was a dark teal. Jabber had to admit they looked like a cool pair. “I like your headphones, where did you get them?”
The girl shrugged before she crouched down to get a closer look at the Marigolds, “I don’t know, they were a gift.”
Jabber raised one eyebrow before crouching down next to the quiet girl, the task of watering long forgotten. They both stared at the colorful flower in silence. He felt eyes staring into the back of his neck and a cold shiver went down his spine. The pressure was on. He cleared his throat to get the girl’s attention before speaking up “Did’ja know that the meanin’ of Marigolds stands for passion and creativity?” Jabber really didn’t want to continue the conversation, in fact all he wanted to do was go back into his room to play games and eat junk food. This girl didn’t look like she played games. Actually, even though she approached first, she didn’t look like she was too interested in the current conversation. This girl was weird, and not in the way that Aibo was weird. Jabber held no interest in trying to befriend someone like this.
But the girl genuinely surprised him.
“They get rid of insects too, I heard it’s better to plant them with tomatoes since they attract pollinators. Basil is also similar to Marigold in that way, they also get rid of insects. Marigolds are not just pretty flowers but they hold a lot of value, don’t you think so?” The girl reached out, fingers gently touching the delicate petals before she pulled away. Her face had changed from boredom to a soft yet thoughtful expression, like she was contemplating saying more but wasn’t sure if it was worth the effort. Jabber opened his mouth to respond but was cut off, his question being answered like the girl could get inside of his mind. “Marigolds also represent October, my birth month.”
Jabber closed his mouth, his gaze shifting from the girl to the flower. It was starting to make sense.
Kids his age were usually annoying and stupid, they usually spat out the recycled crap their parents or friends influenced them with. Gardening wasn’t something boys did. Kids stayed away from Jabber for multiple reasons, he was weird, rambunctious, couldn’t stay in his seat and wasn’t afraid of beating up anyone who looked at him funny. Not to mention his passion for anything related to venomous creatures and plants that could seriously harm someone. Lots of kids thought he was a nutcase with no guidance, he tried to pretend his lack of social life wasn’t anything that bothered him. And truthfully he didn’t care what people thought of him, it was only natural that after a while he would get tired of being told the same things by people he couldn’t even remember the face of. Playing games and the borderline biohazardous experiments that he crafted in his room was his escape from how boring life could be.
For once, someone had approached him with the intention of becoming friends. He felt funny. Maybe this mysterious girl wasn’t as bad as Jabber thought she would be.
____
Jabber logged into his main game every single day a week into his summer vacation, he would play for about 4 hours, win the majority of his games and then get bored. Some nights he went to sleep earlier than planned, and some nights he would stay up researching and testing experiments he found online, rules were implanted very early into Jabber’s fascination of chemicals, his mother stated he was allowed to do whatever he wanted as long as her house didn’t end up in ashes and as long as Jabber didn’t end up foaming at the mouth and needing to be rushed to the hospital. And as tempting as drinking some of these suspicious concoctions were, Jabber knew better. He sighed as he took off his safety glasses, he looked over his shoulder to find his computer still on, his game character looked back at him ready for battle. But Jabber found no interest in playing at the moment. Aibo hadn’t been on since the last time the two first met each other, and Jabber briefly wondered if the other kid raged too hard and decided to uninstall the game. He hoped that wasn’t the case as he walked towards his desk, he clicked through his inventory absentmindedly before deciding to close the game. His experiments weren’t going as planned and he didn’t see a reason to play anymore games for the night. Maybe sleep wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
The next morning he logged on, deciding to do a couple of warmup rounds before breakfast was served. And to his complete shock, Aibo’s profile displayed he was online. Jabber immediately invited him without thinking. And mere moments later another character popped up on his screen, signifying that the other player was in his lobby.
xX_Aibo has joined the party.
“Aibo! Where the hell you been? Don’t tell me you got that butthurt from me winning our 1V1?”
Jabber waited for a response but didn’t get one, he looked at his screen with furrowed eyebrows and deep confusion but then a message in a different language displayed in the party chatbox. Jabber clicked his tongue before copying and pasting the message into a translator.
“Can’t talk, my parents are asleep and I am grounded.”
Jabber quickly put two and two together as to why Aibo hadn’t been online in an entire week. “Grounded for longer than a week with no video games. If you go that long without practicing you might end up losing all that skill, nah you definitely will.” Jabber smiled, fingers gently tapping on random keys in budding excitement.
Another message in a different language, and another trip to Google Translate.
“You talk so fast, I can’t keep up! w”
Jabber snickered, “Damn right you can’t keep up squeaker! I’m so much better at this game than you!” And then there was a light popping in his headset before a quiet but angry voice rang through. “Start the game now please! Yer’ annoyin’!”
Jabber couldn’t leave his new gaming buddy waiting, if Jabber was grounded for longer than a week he would be itching to finally play games too. When they both loaded into a game he felt a spark of joy and adrenaline in his chest as he realized that he finally didn’t feel the gloomy sense of boredom he had the past few days. “Is this what having a duo feels like?” He wondered, he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth out of habit as the round started. Players started moving around him and his hands guided him on pure memory, game sense and instinct. Jabber decided very quickly that he would have to apologize to his mother and grandma for being late for breakfast.
Past summers were always fun, but Jabber felt something special was happening in this particular summer vacation. Playing games solo was always enjoyable but after meeting Aibo he realized that he wasn’t sure if he could properly enjoy solo queuing ever again. His summer was spent staying up late, waiting for Aibo to come online, playing until the early morning, spending time with his family, studying, playing more games, sometimes hanging out with the girl he learned was named Momoa, and taking naps every few hours. At some point Jabber had fully become nocturnal and it was something he would soon regret when the school year started. But playing with his new online friend was his top priority.
Not only was it fun, but he noticed that both of them were getting better. He hoped by the time school rolled around, they would both be top 400.
“Hey Aibo, I have been meanin’ to ask ya. But you’re very obviously not from here right? Where you at?”
The two were in the practice range, taking turns in testing different game mechanics and warming up their aim, something they both agreed to make a habit of before they played a real match.
“Stranger danger, motherfuck.”
“Yo didn’t you get grounded because of that potty mouth you got? I’d watch it if I were you.”
“Parents on.. outside, I am with my brother and sister.”
“An’ they won’t snitch on you?”
A pause, something familiar that Jabber quickly learned was Aibo trying to decipher what he said.
“What..? Oh… Maybe. I don’t know”
Jabber rolled his eyes but didn’t fight the amused smirk that displayed itself on his face.
“I’m from Kamuatari.”
“Yeah that definitely ain’t where I live.”
“Japan.”
Jabber made a hum of acknowledgment, he had his theories but in case of being wrong and potentially offending his friend, he wanted to hear it from Aibo himself. “You know where that is? Or are you stupid?” Jabber had grown to like the accent that Aibo talked with, but even through poor English the other kid still somehow managed to get on Jabber’s nerves.
“I’m startin’ to think you only practice how to say insults correctly.” Jabber grumbled as he spun his mouse around to look at Aibo’s character, who was already looking at him with his suppressed pistol aimed pointing at him. Jabber returned the action with his own gun.
“I know you are but what am I?!”
“That’s not how you use that saying, dumbass!”
_____
It was halfway through Jabber’s summer vacation when things started getting bad. His sleep schedule had fully been messed up, he barely slept nowadays and his body ached. Because of the excruciating heat of the sun the garden needed more care. Jabber was outside pretty frequently, sometimes Momoa would join him in his suffering, offering a cool drink so that her friend wouldn’t overheat. It was extremely refreshing lemonade that Momoa said her mom made. Jabber appreciated the company as he downed the drink, some of it escaping from the corners of his mouth.
Just as he was about to give the plastic cup back, he saw out of the corner of his eye a small rock soared past him, hitting one of the flowers that he was tending to. His head swiveled to the offensive direction and his mouth turned into a small frown at the sight, three kids at least 2 years older than him approached. Mischief was evident in their posture and how the smirks on their faces stretched. Condescending laughs escaped them as they fiddled with the rocks in their hands. “Oh my bad.” The tallest said, he stood in the middle and was obviously the one that was considered the leader. He didn’t hide that he was purposely aiming for the flower.
“Seems like I mistook the flower for a red bullseye.” The colors didn’t even match, the kid just wanted to be an asshole.
Jabber picked up the rock and rolled his shoulders back, his chin tilted upwards as he tried to add a few extra inches to his height. “The fuck is your problem man?” He spat, the rock in his hand digging into his palm as he clenched his fist.
The kids behind the taller one snickered. The shortest has dark brown hair and the other kid, he was skinny and had red hair. “Why do you keep playing with flowers? Don’t you know that shit’s gay?” The kid with red hair laughed at his friend as if he had just said the funniest thing ever, he chimed in. “Good one, but look at him! It’s obvious he is-”
Before the red haired kid could even finish his sentence, Jabber gathered all the saliva in his mouth and spat directly into the kid’s eye, causing him to yell out in disgust and jump back. “Gross what the fuck!” Jabber stuck out his tongue before laughing at the kid viciously rubbing at his eye with the fabric of his shirt. The tall kid and his brown haired minion jumped forward, dirty shoes stepping on the fresh soil and even crushing the budding flowers. Jabber felt pure anger surge up from his feet to his chest, he raised his fists in preparation but all too quickly he heard a loud voice and a hand on his shoulder.
“Momoa, it's dinner- what in the world is going on over there!? You kids better be playing!” A feminine sounding voice called out from an open window across the street. “One second ma!” Momoa called out, and she turned to Jabber who was baring his teeth at the kids who stood full weight on the flowers beneath them. The kids stared back in slightly dimmed anger and more so annoyance as their plans had been ruined. With the eyes of adults on them it was a bad idea to continue their pestering. “C’mon lets get outta here before this psycho does something else.” The tallest said, purposefully stomping his way out of the garden with his lackeys trailing behind. The brown haired kid shot him a look while the kid with spit in his eye just looked at Jabber in disgust. They quickly ran away in the direction they came from, muttering words to themselves that Jabber didn’t catch onto.
“Momoa!”
Jabber felt the hand on his shoulder disappear, “I’ll talk to you later, we can fix up the garden tomorrow.” And with that, Jabber heard gentle footsteps fade away. His shoulders slumped as he looked at the destroyed soil in front of him.
Something deep stirred in Jabber’s stomach, a dark feeling that felt like a ticking time bomb had manifested itself inside of him. And he only hoped that he would be able to keep himself grounded before he did something that would make his family upset.
He walked into his house with his head low, his hand ached and it wasn’t until he looked down that he noticed blood trickling from in between his fingers. The rock was lodged into his hand, the sharp part of it digging into the center of his palm. He stared at it with wide eyes and he felt a jolt in his chest at the site of his own blood.
“Mijo, would you help me set up the- oh my god Jabber what happened?!” His mother gasped as she rushed over, her hands hovered over the rock jammed into Jabber’s palm. He felt his vision grow hazy as he watched his own blood fall onto the wooden floor beneath him. A nervous smile crept onto his face as pain surged up his arm. “It’s not as bad as it looks!” His voice trembled and cracked, out of surprise he covered his mouth with his uninjured hand. He didn’t think the pain was that bad so why did it sound like he was hurt?
“I look away for one second and you get yourself- what-” His mother stammered and his heart started to pound in his chest, Jabber wondered if it was worth trying to explain it in the heat of the moment. He hadn’t seen his mother like this in a long time, so all he could do was comply with the orders his mother gave him to get inside her car. Stitches were absolutely needed for this, he didn’t dare touch the rock sticking out of his hand. Only settling with staring at it with swirling emotions he struggled to put a name to.
He never had to get stitches before, and he doesn’t really remember the drive to the hospital. Or the grim sight of the rock being pulled out of his palm in place for dissolvable stitches. He refused to speak, not until his voice had gone back to its normal tone. The drive home was silent besides the quiet songs that played through the radio, some old pop song that Jabber didn’t really care to listen to. It wasn’t his style of music anyways. He liked the music that Momoa would play whenever she turned the volume up on her headphones, allowing the sound to come out quiet and muffled. But it was just enough for Jabber to enjoy and nod his head to as they cared for his grandma’s garden.
The garden.
That’s right.
“Those teenagers came back and tried to pick a fight, they destroyed some of Abuela's flowers.” Jabber mumbled quietly, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. “I coulda won if we weren't interrupted.” He didn’t get a response from his mother, the songs continued for the rest of the drive. His gaze lingered on the moving buildings and trees but his mind focused on the throbbing of his bandaged hand. It wasn’t until they returned home that his mom decided to speak up.
Her fingers brushed his growing locs out of his face before she gently held his cheek, it was a soft touch that Jabber leaned into easily. “Don’t try to fight those battles alone, you come to me or Abuela for that okay?” Her smile was motherly, if only slightly tainted with the natural worry she held for her son. Jabber slowly nodded as he let the words sink in. He didn’t want to make his mother worry so he decided he would try his best. Though the lingering image of watching his own blood fall was something that would keep replaying in his mind for the next few weeks.
_____
“Yeah and you wanna know what else is crazy? Those fuckers didn’t even try t’ beat me up, they ran as soon as an adult noticed us. So now I have some borin’ stitches on my hand and it’s fuckin’ up my aim!”
“...but you’re okay?”
“Oh it was lit! There was so much blood on my hand and drippin’ on the floor.”
“Gross!”
Jabber shrugged, teeth displayed in a smile as his character jumped to another platform. With his new injury, shooters were out of the question, Jabber didn’t want to mess up his rank because he couldn’t grip his mouse properly, and Aibo didn’t want to play if Jabber wasn’t at his best to carry him. That’s not really what Aibo said though, it was more like “I don’t play with noob.” But Jabber knew what he meant anyways.
Instead they decided to play a different game they both owned, which still required a healthy hand but it wasn’t as intense as the game they usually played.
It was the weekend, a little over halfway until the new school year started. And Jabber felt a sinking feeling every time he realized that his fun would be over soon, nights of endlessly staying up and playing games with his duo was soon going to come to an end. And piles of homework would rise as he hoped his grade would do. It wasn’t like he was a bad student, in fact he really didn’t need to study. It was just the fact that grades existed really pissed Jabber off.
Aibo had gotten better in his speech too, he started to talk quicker when it was words he used frequently. If his older brother was busy he would ask Jabber the meaning of some words he learned that day, or the previous one. And Jabber never failed to give him a proper answer. He had to admit it was pretty cool seeing his duo get better at something that wasn’t a video game. Aibo was nowhere near fluent and still struggled in their conversation, but the improvement was steady. And according to Aibo, he knew more than most kids his age did.
“Kids are stupid anyways, I’m ready to grow up and be a teenager.”
“Yer’ not thirteen?”
“Yeah but that ain’t really a teenager, I wanna go to cool parties and learn how to drive. Maybe even get a job but that sounds borin’ as hell.”
“Johb? Job.. ah shigoto I think.”
That was another thing that Jabber noticed Aibo would do, sometimes if he forgot certain words he would repeat it a thousand times until it finally clicked in his brain. Jabber failed to pick up most of what he was saying but he always thought it was interesting hearing the other boy talk in his mother tongue.
“My brot’er and sister have jobs. Everyday.”
“See and that’s exactly my issue bro! I don' wanna have to work everyday. Shit is so bothersome and why would I wanna do that when I could play games or run another experiment in my room?”
“Please, focus on da game, Mankira-kun.”
“Right, sorry.”
Just when they had fallen into the calming rhythm of enjoying each other's presence, there was a knock on the front door. Jabber assumed it was his mom coming back from an errand run so he didn’t put much thought into why she would be knocking instead of just unlocking and opening the door herself. So he shrugged and went back to his game. But moments later another knock banged through, this time it sounded more urgent. Maybe his grandma went for a walk and locked herself out? Old people do tend to forget important things like keys or unlock codes. So he sighed, mumbling that he would be right back before he lazily dragged his feet down the stairs.
“Abuela, did you forget your keys again?” Jabber asked as he swung the door open, only to be met with Momoa instead.
Her clothes were dirty, her gaze stuck to the floor beneath her as she held a wary posture, hands gripping each other tightly and a deep frown was plastered on her face, not only that but her knee was scraped up as if she had been pushed down roughly against asphalt. Jabber had not seen Momoa show much emotion before, so seeing her near tears was already an uncomfortably shocking sight for him. He sucked in a sharp breath once what was missing clicked inside of his head.
“Where are your headphones?”
Momoa raised her gaze, briefly making eye contact with him. The teary look in her eyes made the back of Jabber’s neck start to form a cold sweat, the stitches on his palm ached in memory of what transpired a week ago. The faces of the bullies flashed every time he blinked, the same ticking time bomb in his stomach burned closer and closer to its detonation as seconds passed.
“It’s hot out here.”
Jabber stared with wide eyes at Momoa before realizing he had yet to let her inside. He quickly stepped aside to let the girl pass through before he closed the door much harder than he intended.
“Hold on a second.” He rushed down the hall, barely avoiding running into the wall as he sharply pivoted into the bathroom. He rummaged through the bottom cabinet before pulling out the medical supply. Jabber returned quickly next to Momoa’s side who looked a little bit calmer but still shaken by the entire situation. She sat on the old couch with her hands in her lap, her body language was closed off and unsure, as if her headphones were the only thing that kept her safe. The thought made Jabber feel another surge of anger, so to distract himself he quickly knelt down and began disinfecting her knee. Momoa winced and Jabber quietly apologized for the sting.
When he was sure the scrapes were taken care of and bandaged he let out a sigh of relief. And just when he was going to ask what exactly happened, the front door opened and revealed his tired mother with shopping bags. “Jabber, why don’t you answer your phone- oh Momoa! …What happened?”
Jabber swallowed thickly as he was just about to ask the same question, he turned to Momoa who refused to raise her head, hair covering most of her face as she gripped the fabric of her pants.
“I just want my headphones back!” She whispered out, voice trembling as she struggled to hold back tears. Jabber wasn’t sure what he could do in this situation so he turned to his mother who seemed to take control of the situation.
“How ‘bout we get you home and talk to your parents okay? Are they home?” The older woman placed a gentle hand on Momoa’s shoulder, scanning her face for any cuts or bruises. But upon finding everything clean or bandaged her shoulders lost its tension.
Momoa shrugged, she sniffled before rubbing her snot away on the sleeve of her shirt. “Mom wasn’t home when I came here, and dad is away on a business trip.”
Jabber’s mom sighed, she stood to her full height and pressed her lips together in thought. “Let’s go check, If your mom isn’t home then you can stay here.” She turned to her son who stood completely still, as if he was frozen in place staring at Momoa.
“Jabber.”
“Jabber, sweetie!”
“Huh?” Jabber snapped out of his trance and quickly looked at his mom with wide eyes and his mouth partially open.
“Tell Abuela we will be right back okay? And go find some of your old clothes so Momoa can change if she stays longer.”
Jabber doesn’t remember telling his body to move, everything felt like it was on autopilot as he watched Momoa and his mother leave. He informed his grandma of what happened but didn’t remember if he went into detail. He could have said something along the lines of “Momoa got hurt and ma is taking care of it” or gone into more detail with “Momoa got fucking robbed and I can’t control this sickening feeling inside of me that wants to take my anger out on people.” But he couldn’t quite recall.
He only tapped back into himself when he remembered Aibo was still upstairs, probably wondering what the hell had happened. Jabber huffed out a short breath, his feet carried him at a speed he was told to never run in the house with. He crawled up the stairs as quickly as he could before he found himself sitting at his desk and staring at his screen, his character was still in the exact same spot as he had left it. He moved his mouse around to look at his surroundings and found a sign placed behind him. Of course the entire thing was in Japanese but Jabber assumed it read something along the lines of Aibo being forced to go to sleep by the orders of his parents.
For the first time in the past hour and a half, Jabber was finally able to put a name to the current emotions he was feeling.
He felt completely awful.
_____
Summer had ended, and Jabber could only think about a couple of things. He met two interesting people that liked being around him, they didn't think he was weird or too much. And they actually enjoyed hanging around him, which Jabber was not used to so it left him questioning a lot of things.
Aibo was online during late night hours to the early morning, he talked to Jabber with mutual respect but still found it in him to spew insults and curse words whenever he got angry enough. Jabber had laughed when the kid's voice would crack and he would get so embarrassed he would mix up English and Japanese. When Jabber's palm had healed and the stitches dissolved they went back to only playing their regular shooter. (They still played semi frequently when Jabber was injured because the boy swore his hand didn't hurt that much.)
Momoa still hadn't gotten her headphones back, she stayed inside a lot more frequently and only came outside when Jabber had personally asked her to help tend to the garden. Even then it was either her mom or her dad who would sit outside to watch them under parental supervision. Recently Jabber’s grandma couldn't help out like she could before, the heat was a lot for her and frequently having to squat was bad for her joints.
Jabber tried not to think about the missing headphones, every time he was outside he kept an eye out for the teenagers. But they never appeared, as if they knew that Jabber would beat them bloody if they dared to show their disgusting faces. It made Jabber furious. He wanted to help Momoa, but he couldn't do much besides promise he would get them back for her one way or another. Especially after she had told him who had gifted her the headphones.
Momoa had a foster brother, someone that she had looked up to with the innocent admiration that a younger sibling would have when they assumed their older sibling was the coolest person ever and bigger than the world itself.
Her foster brother couldn't move with Momoa and her family, he was almost 18 and planned on going to college out of state. The boy had a bright future ahead in political science and unfortunately it would have been a waste if he dropped everything to continue being with the family that cared for him. The family that encouraged his passion and drive to change the world in any way that he could.
“He would always wear those headphones, Zodyl didn't like wasting things. When he moved out everything he didn't want was donated or given to someone he trusted would take care of it. He gave me those headphones because he knew that I wouldn't let anything happen to them.. And now..”
Tick…
Tick…
Tick…
“Those fuckers better be glad I haven't found ‘em yet. Trust when I say I'll get ‘em back for ya okay, Momoa?”
Jabber didn't let things go easily, when people left an impression on him bad or not, it was hard for him to forget.
It was about two weeks into the school year when Jabber finally had his chance. He rubbed at his tired eyes as he walked from his history class, another boring class with a boring teacher. But at least chemistry is next. And that fact had ignited a little bit of a skip in his walk.
“Yo those headphones look rough man, where'd you get em? A dump?”
“Is it that obvious? Found them on the side of the road and thought they looked cool.”
Deep red.
Dark teal.
Tick…
Tick…
Jabber found himself approaching the boys in an instant, he watched as the boys looked at him with wicked smiles as if they didn't understand the seriousness of how badly Jabber was going to fuck them up.
“Look, it's the-”
BOOM!
Jabber's fist collided with the cheek of the one sporting the stolen headphones, the kid slammed against the lockers and screamed in pain. Jabber picked the boy up by his shirt and delivered a headbutt to the teenager's nose. Blood quickly smeared on Jabber's forehead as it poured from the nostrils of the bully.
He barely saw out of the corner of his eye the tallest kid pulling his arm back in what could be seen as preparing for a sloppy punch. So Jabber quickly shifted his feet and held up the bully's friend so that he took the force of the punch instead.
“Oh shitー!” Jabber pushed the now crying teenager to the floor and jumped onto the tallest kid. Taking the both of them down until they tumbled against the dirty hard school floor. The tallest threw a few punches, most of them did little damage as the kid didn't have much muscle. But Jabber’s top lip was busted open and bleeding, the feeling sent an adrenaline rush throughout his entire body and a metallic taste seeped into his mouth. “You're pathetic, you know that? All that damn talk, and you and your dumbass friends couldn't hold anything to those loud fucking mouths of yours!”
Jabber threw multiple punches down onto the teenager now trapped beneath him. He thinks he saw a tooth fly out onto the ground and the boy started to look a little dazed.
Jabber laughed down at the sad sight, his face twisted into a painful smile as the cut on his lip ripped and expanded. “How's it feel? Was it worth stealin’ my friend's headphones?” He growled before sending another punch down onto the barely conscious boy. But just as he was about to throw another, his weight was forcibly shifted and his fist collided with the floor. A blood curling crunch was heard and the pain that took over his entire hand momentarily made him snap out of his bloodlust driven frenzy.
His growing locs covered half of his face as he looked up through his eyelashes at the crowd of students that now surrounded the fight. Phones were lifted and some of his classmates were whispering while other students shouted various things between calling for help or hyping up the fight. His gaze slowly shifted from the crowd to the teen in front of him, headphones now in his hand as he tossed them to Jabber. A terrified look was on his face as he covered his nose that was trickling blood. It made Jabber lick his lips and let out a shaky breath.
“C'mon man, you not gonna do anythin’ to me? Scared t’ pick on someone who can actually beat’cha ass?”
Jabber took a step forward and the kid took a step back, he heard the one on the floor groan out incoherent words in pain. Jabber stepped over the body beneath him, and just as he was about to dash forward to inflict more harm, his body was held in place by a much stronger individual. A young teacher had grabbed onto his arms tightly enough to restrain Jabber. He screamed through gritted teeth as accidental pressure was applied to his broken wrist from struggling. The grip was tight and it frustrated him how little he could move. “Aye get the hell off me!” He spat, trying to wiggle his way out despite the pain he was in.
Jabber refused to look away from the paralyzed in fear teen in front of him. Instead he leaned forward as much as he could as he felt another adult hold him back, “You should be glad that other useless kid you keep around'ya ain’t here right now! Make sure you tell him to never fuck with me or Momoa again, y’know. Once you get that broken nose of yours patched up!”
Jabber felt himself get forced to the ground from behind, the pressure on his back kept him still as he barely caught onto the whispers of the adults behind him. “We are going to need to call these kids parents as soon as possible.”
“An ambulance too! Make sure that the kid on the floor remembers his name!”
“Whatever happens we cannot let this fight ruin the reputation of this school.”
Jabber wiggled as much as he could, relishing in the pain that spiked through his lower arm as he caught sight of Momoa’s headphones on the floor. A genuine smile formed on his face and he broke into a fit of giggles. “I did it.. I said to trust me huh, Momoa?”
“Uh, I thought Wonger sustained the least amount of injuries? Make sure we get him checked out too.” One of the teachers said before directing the students back to their academic schedule.
An hour had passed before Jabber saw his mother. He would sometimes giggle to himself as he thought about his accomplishment, his wrist was swollen and it hurt to touch but it was all worth it. But his adrenaline high didn't end until he locked eyes with his mother, he physically felt his mind clear up as the woman stared at him with an expression that could only be described as pure anger.
Jabber had seen his mom angry of course, but this was a completely different level and Jabber felt genuine fear. He winced as the ice bag shifted on his wrist.
“Ah Mrs Wonger. Let me fill you in on what your son did.”
_____
Jabber was grounded and also bed ridden until his broken wrist was fully healed. He wasn’t exactly required to stay in bed but he couldn’t game, he couldn’t work on his experiments, and he was suspended from school for 2 weeks. Turns out breaking someone's nose and leaving their friend with a concussion doesn't get you expelled but it does get your name in the police system. Staying in bed and scrolling on his phone was the only thing he could do, Momoa had dropped by for her headphones and had thanked him with a stiff hug. But he hadn’t been able to talk to anyone else for about a week. Oh, and he was transferring next year according to his mom. It was a bit of a nicer school 30 minutes in the opposite direction of where he is attending now. It's the school that Momoa is currently going to so he would at least know someone already.
His wrist didn’t hurt that badly, he tried moving it a few times just to see what it felt like and he wasn’t unpleasantly surprised. He went to bed early throughout the week and ate with his family when he usually did. His grandma had given him a stern talking to ever since he came home that day. He was pretty sure he learned a few new Spanish words from the daily scolding.
Jabber sighed in his bed and looked down at the opposite wall where his desk was stationed, his monitor screen was pitch black. He felt like something was missing. Or someone. He missed yelling and trolling the helpless random players that would play against him, even some of his teammates that annoyed him. He missed the loud noises of bad microphones and gunshots blaring in his headset, he missed the way his hand felt on his mouse and how easy it was to control the mechanics of his character. He felt so bored.
He missed Aibo.
All too quickly Jabber’s heart jumped in his chest and his stomach did a thousand uncomfortable flips. He missed playing with Aibo, not Aibo himself. At least that’s what he said to try to convince himself. Aibo was a good player and someone that challenged Jabber, he was annoying and had a bad attitude when he lost. And he put curse words into his sentences whenever they didn’t fit. Words rolled off his tongue in a way that stuck in Jabber’s head hours after they were done playing. Phrases that he couldn’t understand but Jabber tried to say them to himself quietly in his room to get the pronunciation right. Aibo was just someone that Jabber could tolerate, someone that made gaming fun with all of his interesting quirks and skill.
Maybe that’s what a friend is.
“Is Momoa a friend?” Jabber wondered as he looked towards the ceiling of his room. He liked Momoa, even though at first he didn’t want to be friends with her. But she grew on him pretty quickly throughout the summer. She was a lot of help and sometimes shared candy she got from her father. I guess they hung out too frequently for her and Jabber to be acquaintances. But he didn’t remember the things she said, or think about the funny things she would do on repeat. He liked spending time with her that was for sure, and he did everything he could to get her prized possession back, even damaging his own body for her sake.
Jabber wondered if he would do the same for Aibo.
He physically tried to shake the thought from his head, maybe Aibo and Momoa were both his friends or maybe they weren’t. Jabber didn’t want to keep thinking about it, the thought made him feel a certain way and he wasn’t sure how to feel about what else could transpire in his head if he decided to think further on the topic at hand.
He didn’t sleep well that night.
The following week wasn’t much better. He was able to go back to school but the atmosphere had certainly changed. The amount of people avoiding him had worsened, some didn’t even dare to look in his general direction. People would keep their head down and speed walk past him. While some would even try to discreetly move their desks further away from him. Jabber tried to ignore it, all of them acted like they might be a victim to his violence. And it was almost insulting because Jabber wouldn’t even consider punching most of these people. None of them could have held up a good fight against him, even thinking about it was quite frankly, boring.
His mom had finally let up on his restrictions, he still couldn’t play any games but using his computer wasn’t off limits anymore. His wrist had thankfully stopped hurting but the doctor had said it would probably take another 4 weeks to heal. Jabber didn’t want to wait that long to play anything, he might die from boredom before he gets the stupid cast taken off of his wrist.
He waited until the late hours of the night to turn on his computer and boot up his game, he was sure that Aibo would be online around this time. The sound of the lobby music played quietly through his headset and it brought a small smile to his face. He missed this.
Ping!
xX_Aibo has invited you to their party!
It was almost hilarious how quickly he had accepted the invite.
He wasted no time in joining the party, and he laughed as he saw the speaker icon next to Aibo’s name light up.
“You have left me! For weeks!” Was all Jabber heard before angry words in Japanese were yelled at him, Aibo’s voice had cracked a ton of times and his voice raised to levels that made the microphone unable to pick up what he was saying at some points. Jabber waited until the other line was empty besides some heavy breathing.
“Missed ya too loud mouth.”
“..Missed me?”
“Uh..” Fuck. “Missed your skill. It was boring as fuck not bein’ able to play for two weeks, kinda missed playin’ the game..and I guess I missed winning with..” Jabber trailed off, heart pounding in his chest that it almost deafened the other sounds around him.
“...Even after two weeks you still haven’ learn to slow down your talking.”
“Why have you not played?”
Jabber gently pressed on one of the loose keys on his keyboard, a small pout on his lips as he thought about the last few weeks.
“Something happen?”
“Yeah, something did happen. I can’t really play any games right now.”
“But you can talk?”
“Yeah.”
“Uh…how ‘bout..eto..” Aibo trailed off into silence and Jabber hummed in confusion.
Then a message popped up and Jabber quickly pulled up a translation tool.
“Since you can’t play, how about we exchange contact information? What messaging apps do you use? It has been too long since we talked… and I guess I missed having a friend around.”
A friend.
A friend.
Aibo considered Jabber a friend.
Jabber almost closed the game, turned off his computer and hid under the covers. But Aibo’s voice cut through his thoughts.
“You understand?”
Jabber scoffed. “‘Course I understand squeaker, I ain’t stupid.”
“And yer sure ‘bout dat?”
The two bickered back and forth for a few minutes before they finally exchanged social media accounts. Jabber didn’t post on his account since he wasn’t sure what to post, while Aibo’s account was various pictures of martial arts tournaments and beautiful pictures of Japanese landscapes. Jabber had recognized some of the spots, Aibo having told him about the scenery for specific speaking practice.
Jabber sent a meme he thought was funny into Aibo’s direct messages and watched as the little “seen” appeared under his image. The typing bubble appeared and disappeared a few times, and Jabber wondered if the boy would actually type a message in English or if Jabber would have to play translator again. Then to his utter surprise his phone started ringing.
He stared at the green accept button for a moment before sliding his thumb to confirm it.
“I really don’t like typing in English.”
“Yeah I know.”
“Tell me what happened?”
Jabber sighed as he turned off his computer and walked back to his bed, falling down onto his pillows and getting comfortable. “It’s a very long story though, and a lot of listenin’ on your half.”
“Okay, I need to practice listening. Just go slow.”
Jabber huffed out a laugh as he raised his hand, looking at the cast that lacked any writings, the only people who had signed it was his mom, his grandma, and Momoa. He retold the story from when the bullies had tried to pick a fight the first time, to when Jabber had suddenly disappeared because Momoa came to his house in near tears. And then ending it with him getting grounded and suspended. And also the fact that he would be moving schools.
Aibo had listened the entire time, quietly humming in reaction to some parts of the story to even cursing in Japanese when Jabber had told him exactly how his wrist broke.
“So then.. it hurt a lot?”
Jabber thought back to the memory of the initial pain that surged through his body and the sound of his own wrist cracking as it collided with the hard floor. Of course it hurt, but the adrenaline rush almost made it enjoyable. The entire fight was addictive and Jabber was almost scared to admit it out loud. He wanted to fight again, to chase that same feeling that made him feel like he was on top of the world.
“Yeah, it hurt like a bitch in the moment. But it was kind of lit too! There was so much blood, and the look on their faces was priceless!”
“...I think I understand, when I fight in taikai.. it’s l-lit. I like fighting a lot.”
Jabber sat up, a wicked smile on his face as he let out a laugh, “See you get it bro! Something about fighting is so fun, I just wish that they were a bit tougher. All that talk and could barely back it up. I end up hurting myself more than they hurt me.”
“Yer strong, I too don’t like people who only talk. It’s annoying.”
Jabber shrugged at the compliment, he wasn’t sure if he was strong or if those two punks were just easy. He didn’t feel like talking about it anymore so he decided to change the subject.
“So ya like fightin’ as well?”
“Kind of, I prefer Bojutsu but my parents wanted me to do Kendo and Aikido”
“Those sound cool, but why can’t you just do Bojutsu?”
There was a long pause and Jabber wondered if Aibo was finding the words or just didn’t want to say. So he spoke instead.
“I have always wanted to do boxing but my mom doesn’t have the money for it. So I usually watch videos online and learn that way. I am pretty good at observin’ and just testin’ things out my own way y’know?”
“I have a fight next week, so I have a lot of practice to do. I can’t lose.”
“Well if your fighting skill is anywhere near your gaming skill then I might be a little worried, Aibo.”
“My name is Zanka.”
“Yeah yeah I know you're the best at knife kills and- wait what?”
“Zanka?”
“Yes?”
“Zanka? That’s your name?”
“... We ain’t playin’ any games, it felt weird t’ be called Aibo.”
“Oh..”
Jabber let silence fill the call line. He wasn’t expecting that at all, and he felt kind of stupid for not noticing it earlier. He had heard Zanka's name mentioned a few times before in the back of his microphone, and each time Jabber had assumed it was another Japanese word that was used contextually. Not once did he actually think it could have been his name.
“The name’s Jabber, Mankira ain’t my name even though it’s super cool.”
He heard Aibo- Zanka hum on the other side of the call before practicing how to say his name a few times. Jabber felt a little weird about hearing his name said over and over again until perfection, but he pushed the feeling aside and then the two slipped into easy conversation. Zanka would make sure that Jabber wasn’t in any pain and Jabber would ask him what the worst injury he had gotten in martial arts was.
“Ah shit! If my mom ever saw me get injured like that she would probably kill me, well I guess she almost did when she saw my wrist..”
“It sounds like your mom is loving.”
“She is, she’s a good mom. And when she ain’t around I go to my grandma. Though grandma is a bit harder to talk to.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Oh… like, grandma is an old person-”
“Nonono, I don’t have a good mom. Parents are difficult.”
Jabber rolled onto his side, keeping his arm stretched out as he held the phone closer to his ear. “Parents are like.. My parents are like the Global Top 100 list. They’re strong but difficult to play against, think how players hate us because we ruin the’r day.”
“I can’t go against them because they can be toxic too. Like how we are, but it’snot fun. It..hurts a lot.”
“My parents are assholes.”
Jabber doesn’t think he has ever heard Zanka talk that much in the two, almost three months he had known the guy. The pace of the sentences were slow and he accidentally meshed some words together, he was also able to explain it in a way that the two of them understood. So Zanka didn’t have the best home life, his parents sounded like a real bother who didn’t let their kid have any freedom. It explained why Zanka hadn’t gone into more detail about why he couldn’t stay with Bojutsu. Jabber had only met a few people in passing whose parents were overly controlling; it ended up with the child only becoming rebellious later in life. Jabber wondered if that’s what would end up happening to Zanka.
“My siblings, they don’ help. They are really mean.”
Jabber remembers the other voices he would sometimes hear through Zanka’s mic, stern whispering and some condescending snickering that didn’t sound kind at all. Jabber knew not to point it out though, but now he felt a little upset that he never asked before. He wonders how long Zanka had been wanting to talk to him like this, if he had an outlet or if he was just forced to keep this all inside. According to Zanka he didn’t have too many real life friends either. Just like Jabber.
“I don’t remember much of my dad, he left when I was really young. But he was mean too. I remember he was the first person I hated because of how he would treat my mom and grandma.” Jabber wasn’t sure why he started talking about his personal life, maybe he felt bad for Zanka and wanted him to know that his life wasn’t perfect either. That the mental sufferings and trauma caused at a young age made him into what he was now. Even at 13 he could tell that something was off about himself.
“Mom would always cry, did everythin’ she could to try to keep me safe from that man. That’s why I never wanna disappoint her, she did all she could and I never wanna see her upset. Still, I somehow managed to fuck that up.” He looked at his cast with disappointment, his mother’s handwriting looking back at him. “I wanna be better.”
“I wanna grow up.”
“Me too, when I get old enough and make a shit ton of money, I’ll pay her back and buy her everything she’s ever wanted!” Jabber announced, a determined smile on full display as he then rolled onto his back. His chest felt light as he heard Zanka agree on the other line with just as much determination and belief that Jabber could do it.
Having a friend was something new to Jabber, a friend was someone you could rely on. That you would do anything for. Someone you could listen to for hours while you shared vulnerable information back and forth because it felt like only you two could understand each other in such a messed up world. Jabber could never say that Zanka was his friend out loud. But both of them also knew that words didn’t need to be exchanged to determine that they truly believed they would always be there for each other. That they would stand side by side as friends through gaming and through their blossoming friendship. Jabber didn’t sleep at all that night, but not once did he regret it. Talking to Zanka was almost as fun as playing a video game was.
As years passed, Jabber wouldn’t be sure which god sent an angel to him, an angel that was disguised as a loud mouth short tempered Japanese boy who swore like his life depended on it. But Jabber would thank the entity a million times if he could, somehow they knew that Zanka was the exact person that Jabber would end up needing in his life.