Chapter Text
Zanka still wasn’t entirely sure how he had ended up here, lying on his dorm bed at some ungodly hour, staring at the ceiling while the sound of Jabber rummaging through his cupboard to find a jumper was the most natural thing in the world.
If someone had told him a year ago that this would be his life, he would’ve laughed. Or punched them. Probably both.
Because when Zanka first met Jabber, “friends” wasn’t even remotely on the table.
Back then, Jabber had been nothing more than an irritation.
A loud, grinning, relentlessly annoying presence that had decided, for reasons Zanka still didn’t understand, to latch onto him specifically. Out of everyone on campus, Jabber had picked him to follow around like some kind of stray with no sense of personal space and even less sense of self-preservation.
It had started on the first day of college.
Zanka remembered it clearly. The noise, the crowds, the overwhelming buzz of new faces and forced introductions. He’d been trying to mind his own business, already irritated, already done with the whole experience, and then Jabber had appeared beside him like he’d always been there.
Talking. Grinning. Teasing.
Not even waiting for a response.
Zanka had ignored him at first. Then snapped at him. Then threatened him.
None of it worked.
Jabber just kept showing up.
By the end of the first week, Zanka’s patience had finally snapped, and so had his fist.
The punch had landed clean. It should have ended things right there.
For most people, it would have.
But Jabber had just laughed.
Actually laughed.
Not even angry, just amused, like Zanka had told a particularly good joke instead of knocking him across the face.
And then, the next day, he showed up again like nothing had happened.
Like Zanka hadn’t made it very clear that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.
That should have been the point where Zanka walked away. Or doubled down. Or did something to shut it down for good.
Instead… things got weird.
Because at some point, Zanka couldn’t even pinpoint when, he stopped just enduring Jabber’s teasing and started throwing it back. It was small at first. A sarcastic comment here. A sharp comeback there. But Jabber thrived on it, lit up by the attention like it was exactly what he’d been waiting for.
And somehow, against all logic, it became… normal.
Jabber trailing after him between classes.
Jabber flopping onto his bed uninvited.
Jabber talking endlessly, filling the silence Zanka usually preferred.
Somewhere along the line, irritation blurred into familiarity. Familiarity turned into habit. And habit turned into something dangerously close to friendship.
Not that Zanka would ever admit that out loud.
Especially not when Jabber was being… Jabber.
Because if there was one thing that hadn’t changed, it was that Jabber was still insufferable in ways that defied explanation. Loud, shameless, completely lacking any sense of boundaries. He was clingy to a degree that would’ve been concerning if Zanka hadn’t gotten used to physically shoving him away every other hour.
And the flirting.
God, the flirting.
It was constant. Relentless. Completely over-the-top.
And completely meaningless.
At least, that’s what Zanka told himself.
Because Jabber flirted with everyone. It wasn’t special. It wasn’t serious. It was just part of his personality—just another extension of his tendency to say whatever came to mind with no filter and no shame.
So Zanka ignored it.
Filed it away under “Jabber being an pervert” and moved on.
Because despite everything, despite how weird it all was, how unconventional, how far from anything he would’ve chosen for himself, Jabber had never actually crossed a line.
Never really tried anything.
It was all jokes.
It had to be.
Still… there were moments.
Small ones. Easy to overlook if you weren’t paying attention.
The way Jabber lingered a little too long. The way his teasing sometimes dipped into something softer, quieter, almost sincere before snapping back into something crude and ridiculous. The way he always ended up in Zanka’s space, like it was where he belonged.
Zanka didn’t think about those moments too hard.
Didn’t analyze them.
Didn’t want to.
Because whatever this was, whatever strange, messy, undefined thing existed between them, it worked better when it stayed simple.
Or at least… when he pretended it was simple.
A loud crash came from the cupboard, where Jabber was currently crouched by.
“Hey, Zanka! You ever use this hoodie? ‘Cause I think it’s mine now.”
Zanka closed his eyes, exhaling slowly.
Yeah.
This was his life now.
And somehow, somewhere along the way-
he’d stopped hating it.
Jabber had thrown on Zanka’s hoodie lazily. On Zanka, the hoodie was oversized, meant to be oversized. It hung loose on his frame, sleeves always slightly too long, the fabric slouching comfortably in a way he barely paid attention to.
On Jabber, it somehow… fit.
Not tight. Not stretched. Just right, like it had been made for him instead.
Same general height, same lean build at first glance, but Jabber had that extra edge to him. A fraction taller. A bit broader through the shoulders, a little more defined in a way Zanka only really noticed when Jabber was too close, like now.
Like always.
Jabber threw himself onto the bed like gravity was optional and landed halfway across Zanka without a second thought.
“Yeah,” he said immediately, tugging at the hem of the hoodie, “this is definitely mine now.”
Zanka didn’t even hesitate, he shoved him off.
“Get off.”
Jabber let out a dramatic sound of protest but rolled easily onto his back beside him, completely unbothered. The hoodie shifted with him, settling across his frame in a way that somehow looked natural, like it belonged there more than it ever did on Zanka.
Which was irritating in a way Zanka refused to acknowledge.
“You know,” Jabber said, stretching his arms above his head like he owned the place, “I think this fits me better than it fits you.”
“It doesn’t fit you better,” Zanka mutters.
Jabber turned his head slightly, grin already forming. “It does though.”
Zanka gave him a flat look. “It’s oversized on me.”
“Exactly,” Jabber said, completely unfazed. “Which means it’s perfect on me.”
That was the problem.
Zanka didn’t miss the way it sat properly on Jabber’s shoulders, how the seams actually aligned, how the sleeves didn’t drown his hands the way they did on Zanka. Even the hood didn’t collapse awkwardly; it just rested there, easy, like it had found the right person.
Jabber noticed where he was looking immediately.
“Oh?” he teased, voice lighter now, stretching just enough to bump Zanka’s shoulder with his elbow. “Ya staring at me, or the hoodie Zan Zan?”
“I’m thinking about taking it back.”
“Too late,” Jabber said, grinning wider. “I’ve already emotionally bonded with it.”
“You’ve had it on for two minutes.”
“And they were life-changing minutes.”
Zanka scoffed, reaching to shove him again, but Jabber caught his wrist this time, easy and casual, like it was nothing. Their arms were close enough that Zanka could feel the difference now, subtle but there. Jabber’s grip just a little firmer.
It shouldn’t have meant anything.
It didn’t mean anything.
“C’mon,” Jabber said, voice dipping into something softer but still teasing, “you ain’t seriously mad. I look good in it.”
Zanka yanked his hand back immediately. “You’re annoying.”
“And yet,” Jabber hummed, settling back into the mattress like he had no intention of moving again, “you’re still letting me stay here.”
Zanka didn’t answer.
But he didn’t kick him out either.
Jabber shifted slightly closer, like it was the most natural thing in the world, adjusting himself until he was properly comfortable. His head ended up resting near Zanka’s arm, the weight of him just there, present and unbothered, completely at ease.
“What time d’you start classes tomorrow?” Jabber hummed, voice a little softer now.
“Ten, I think,” Zanka replied, far too aware of the fact that Jabber’s head was still against him.
“Aight, good,” Jabber said, already yawning. “I start at ten as well.”
There was a pause where neither of them moved much.
Then, like it was already decided and didn’t require discussion, Jabber simply settled further in.
No question. No hesitation.
Not even a glance to check if it was okay.
He just stayed.
Zanka exhaled slowly through his nose, staring at the ceiling as if it might offer him an explanation for how this had become normal.
Jabber stayed at his dorm far too often for it to still feel normal, yet somehow it did.
Zanka’s roommate didn’t like it, didn’t like Jabber at all, really. Rudo had made that very clear from the start, with looks and comments and the kind of irritated silence that filled the room whenever Jabber showed up uninvited.
But it never turned into anything serious. Not really. Jabber just… ignored it. Or joked through it. Or somehow made it worse and better at the same time until Rudo gave up on reacting altogether.
It wasn’t like Jabber didn’t have his own dorm.
He did.
Which made it worse, in a way.
Because Jabber’s situation wasn’t even convenient. His dorm mate, whoever he was, apparently had the personality of a brick wall with anger issues. Jabber had mentioned it once or twice, always casually, like it didn’t matter. Like sharing a room with a stranger who hated you was just an annoying background detail.
And compared to that zanka’s setup was practically luxury.
Separate rooms. Separate bathrooms.
Jabber, on the other hand, had communal bathrooms down the hall and a room with no separate bedrooms that he apparently avoided as much as possible.
“So I’m crashin’ here again,” Jabber mumbled, already half-drifting.
“You always are,” Zanka said flatly.
Jabber made a low sound of agreement, like that was the most reasonable thing in the world. His grip on Zanka’s arm loosened slightly, but he didn’t move away.
Instead, he just got more comfortable.
Zanka stared at him for a second longer than he meant to.
Jabber’s breathing had slowed, his expression loosened in a way it rarely was when he was awake. Less sharp, less chaotic, almost… peaceful.
Zanka’s eyes drifted over him without meaning to linger, though they did anyway.
The piercings along Jabber’s face caught what little light there was, small flashes of metal along his ear. A ring in his lip that tugged faintly when he breathed. A septum and nostril piercing. The slit in his eyebrow that split its line just enough to make his expressions sharper when he was awake, more animated, more alive in a chaotic kind of way.
Up close like this, Zanka noticed the details he usually ignored.
The curved and pointy bridge of his nose, slightly shadowed in the dim light. The way his lashes rested lower now, hiding most of the intensity that usually sat behind his eyes. The faint marks of exhaustion he never seemed to fully shake off, even when he acted like he had endless energy.
Zanka looked away.
Jabber shifted half asleep without warning, like even nearly unconscious he had no respect for personal space.
One moment he was still, breathing slow and even. The next, he’d thrown an arm and a leg over Zanka like it was the most natural thing in the world, dragging himself closer until there was no gap left between them.
Zanka stiffened instantly.
“Hey-”
But Jabber just hummed, already half gone, face pressing briefly into Zanka’s shoulder as if he’d been doing it his entire life.
“Ya smell good…” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
Zanka went still.
“…What?”
Jabber didn’t answer properly. He just tightened his grip slightly, like confirming Zanka was still there, still real, still not leaving. His weight settled in fully now, heavy in a way that was warm rather than uncomfortable, grounding rather than suffocating.
Zanka stared straight ahead.
This was ridiculous.
This was always ridiculous.
Jabber was sprawled across him like he belonged there, wearing his jumper, limbs tangled like there were no rules that applied to him whatsoever. His breathing was slow again, steady against Zanka’s shoulder, the kind of quiet that didn’t match anything about him when he was awake.
Zanka exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled.
“You’re a headache,” he muttered under his breath.
Jabber only made a soft sound in response, something between agreement and contentment, before settling even deeper, as if Zanka was just part of the bed now.
Zanka didn’t move him.
Not right away.
He should’ve.
He definitely should’ve.
But instead, after a long moment of tense stillness, he let his arm rest where it was, just slightly awkward, just barely adjusted to make room instead of pushing him away.
And eventually, Zanka stopped pretending he was going to move him at all.
——————————————————————
Zanka woke to Jabber’s voice cutting through the haze of sleep.
“Yo Zanka, wake up. It’s 9:45.”
A hand shook his shoulder, insistent and completely unbothered, and Zanka jolted awake instantly, breath catching as he shot upright.
For a split second, he didn’t register anything except the time.
9:45.
His brain snapped fully awake.
“Shit-”
Zanka practically launched himself out of bed.
He hated being late. Hated it more than almost anything. He was always on time, always early, always prepared, always in control of it. The idea of walking into class even a minute after it started was enough to spike irritation straight through him.
He was already moving before he’d fully thought it through, grabbing whatever clothes his hands hit first.
There was no time for hesitation.
No time for anything else.
Zanka stripped off his shirt and pants quickly, usual flicker of self-consciousness barely even registering before it got buried under urgency. Normally he would’ve turned away, would’ve cared, would’ve made space between himself and anyone else in the room but right now none of that mattered.
Sweats. Hoodie. Fast.
He pulled them on in quick, practiced motions, barely slowing down long enough to get it right. Fabric barely settled before he was already moving again, running through the mental checklist in his head: phone, keys, nothing else mattered.
Across the room, Jabber was completely unbothered.
Still in the same clothes he’d slept in. Still sprawled wherever he’d ended up the night before like he had no concept of urgency whatsoever. One leg hanging off the bed, phone in hand, thumb lazily scrolling like the world wasn’t actively moving around him at high speed.
He took a slow drag from a pen between his fingers, eyes half-lidded with sleep.
“Zan,” he yawned, voice rough, casual, “you got any deodorant?”
Zanka didn’t even look at him at first.
“Not now,” he snapped automatically, shoving his arms into his hoodie sleeves.
Jabber hummed like that was mildly inconvenient information rather than something he should care about.
Zanka grabbed his bag and finally glanced at him properly.
Jabber looked infuriatingly calm for someone who had just woken him up into a crisis. Hair messy, hoodie slightly creased from sleep, still lounging like he had all the time in the world.
Like Zanka’s panic wasn’t contagious at all.
It probably wasn’t.
But it still annoyed him.
“Get up,” Zanka said sharply. “You’re coming too.”
Jabber blinked slowly.
“…Yeah,” he said after a beat, like it was obvious. “I know.”
Before leaving, Zanka tossed Jabber a bottle of deodorant as Jabber sprayed some on himself before tossing it onto the bed.
Zanka got to class on time.
Of course he did.
By the time he stepped into the lecture hall, his breathing had already evened out again, the earlier chaos from the morning neatly filed away like it had never happened. Backpack over one shoulder, hoodie still slightly creased from how fast he’d thrown it on, he took his usual seat without hesitation.
Physics. First lecture of the day.
Exactly where he was supposed to be.
Exactly when he was supposed to be there.
No interruptions. No delays. No Jabber.
At least, not anymore.
They’d split off at the entrance to the academic building, Jabber veering off toward the Chemistry wing like he always did, hands shoved in his pockets, moving like time didn’t apply to him in the same way it applied to everyone else.
Zanka remembered the lazy wave he’d given over his shoulder without even looking back.
“See you later, Zan.”
Like it was guaranteed.
Like it always was.
It was strange, sometimes, how naturally their routines had formed around each other without either of them actually deciding on it.
They weren’t in the same major. Zanka was doing Physics while Jabber did Chemistry. but they shared a few overlapping modules. Enough that they’d met in the first place. Enough that they kept crossing paths even when they weren’t trying to.
And at some point, “crossing paths” had turned into something closer to… expectation.
Zanka opened his notebook as the lecture began, pen already in hand, posture straight, attention where it was supposed to be.
But even as the professor started speaking, his mind briefly flicked back.
Jabber had been annoyingly calm this morning.
Too calm.
And now he was probably in his own lecture hall somewhere, pretending to pay attention while doing something completely unrelated.
Zanka clicked his pen once, eyes fixed on the board.
After class, Zanka had two hours free before his next lecture.
Plenty of time to reset, eat something if he felt like it, or just sit in silence before the next lecture. Normally, he would’ve stayed on campus, gone over notes, maybe reviewed readings. Probably met up with Jabber but he knew Jabber had a double lecture right now.
Ugh, he hated the fact he had his schedule memorised.
But instead, he pulled out his phone.
Riyo? You around?
The reply came almost instantly.
Yep! Usual café, be there in 10 mins x
Zanka didn’t bother responding. That was answer enough.
The walk was familiar, same route, same rhythm, same passing faces he didn’t really look at. The café was warm when he stepped inside, soft noise and the smell of coffee grounding everything into something normal again.
He ordered without hesitation.
A black coffee for himself. A caramel frappe for Riyo.
Their usual.
He found their usual table by the window and sat down before she arrived, placing both drinks neatly on the table like he was setting the stage for something that had happened a hundred times before.
They always did this, always tried to beat the other there just so they could pay first. It had turned into a quiet competition neither of them ever officially agreed on but both took seriously anyway.
Zanka barely had time to take a sip of his coffee before the café door swung open.
Riyo walked in, scanned the room, and immediately locked onto him.
And the drinks.
Her expression dropped instantly.
“Oh my God,” she groaned as she approached, already shaking her head. “You’re such a dick.”
Zanka didn’t even look up from his coffee, a slight smirk playing on his face. “You were late.”
Riyo narrowed her eyes at him, then sighed dramatically, wrapping her hands around the cup anyway. “Thanks,” she muttered, though it came out more resigned than grateful.
“So, where’s boy toy?” Riyo hummed casually, stirring her drink like she hadn’t just detonated a bomb across the table.
Zanka froze mid-sip.
The coffee went the wrong way immediately.
He coughed sharply, nearly choking, one hand coming up to his mouth as he set the cup down a little too fast.
“That’s not-” Zanka coughed again, glare sharpening as heat crept up his neck. “Don’t call him that.”
“Oh?” she leaned forward slightly, eyes lighting up with interest. “So you have a preferred term for him then?”
“I don’t have any term for him,” Zanka mumbles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Riyo hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Mm. Sure.”
Zanka shot her a warning look, but it didn’t land. It never did with her.
She took a slow sip of her frappe, watching him over the rim like she was studying a very obvious experiment. “Anyway,” she continued, far too relaxed for someone actively ruining his morning, “where is he? I feel like he’s usually glued to you by now.”
Zanka stiffened slightly.
“He has class,” he said quickly, a little sharper than intended.
Riyo’s eyes flicked up with immediate interest. “Mm. Right. And you don’t?”
“I have a break.”
“A break,” she repeated, dragging the word out. “And you’re here. Without him.”
Zanka frowned into his coffee. “We don’t need to be together all the damn time.”
Riyo leaned back in her chair, studying him. “Didn’t say you did.”
Silence stretched for a second.
Then she added, casually, “It just looks like you usually are.”
Zanka went quiet at that, stirring his drink once even though it didn’t need it. “We just have overlapping classes sometimes.”
“Mhm,” Riyo nodded like she was humoring him. “And dorms.”
“That’s not-” Zanka stopped himself. “He stays over sometimes.”
“Sometimes,” she echoed.
“Yes.”
Riyo smiled a little, like she was holding back laughter. “A lot of ‘sometimes’ for someone who has his own dorm.”
Zanka’s ears started to feel warm. “It ain’t like that.”
“What’s it like then?”
“It’s just convenient,” he said too quickly.
Riyo’s eyebrows lifted. “Convenient.”
“Yes.”
Riyo’s grin widened. “You’re doing it again.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re getting red.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Zanka looked away immediately, jaw tightening as he set his cup down a little harder than necessary. “Can you stop saying things like that?”
Riyo laughed softly, clearly entertained. “What, accurate things?”
Zanka didn’t respond.
Which, unfortunately for him, answered her question anyway.
She leaned forward again, still smiling but a little less sharp now. “Relax. I’m not judging you.”
“I’m not-” he started, then stopped, rubbing a hand over his face. “This conversation is pointless.”
“It’s very informative,” she corrected.
Zanka groaned under his breath.
Riyo just took another sip of her drink, looking far too pleased with herself as she added, “He’s definitely going to come find you after class anyway.”
Zanka paused slightly at that.
“…Probably,” he admitted, quieter.
And Riyo’s smile turned knowing again, like that was exactly the answer she expected.
“Hes cute,” Riyo hummed a little lighter now, like she’d moved past teasing and settled into something more casual. “Really fucking weird. But cute.”
Zanka went still.
“…What?” he said immediately, too fast.
Riyo blinked at him. “What?”
“You just-” he gestured vaguely with his cup, trying to recover. “Why are you saying it like that?”
Riyo frowned slightly, genuinely confused by his reaction. “Like what?”
Zanka hesitated, then defaulted back to defensiveness. “Like it matters.”
She paused for a second, then leaned back in her chair. “It doesn’t. I’m just talking.”
Zanka stared at her.
Riyo took another sip of her frappe, watching him over the rim again, but softer now, not teasing, just observant. “You’re the one acting weird about it.”
“I’m not acting weird.”
“You are,” she said simply.
Zanka’s jaw tightened slightly. “He’s just… Jabber.”
Riyo raised an eyebrow at that.
“That’s exactly my point,” she said.
Zanka didn’t respond.
She tapped her cup lightly on the table once, like she was choosing her words. “You keep talking about him like he’s just this annoying thing that follows you around.”
“He does follow me around,” Zanka muttered.
“Yeah,” Riyo said, nodding. “But you never actually sound like you want him to stop.”
That made him pause.
Just for a fraction.
“I do,” Zanka said, but it came out less certain than he meant it to.
Riyo watched him carefully now, expression steady. “Do you?”
Zanka looked away immediately. “That’s not what this is about.”
“It kind of is,” she said quietly. “You’re just… used to him being there.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
Riyo hummed, not arguing, just letting it sit there between them. Then she added more lightly, like she didn’t want to push too hard, “I’m just saying. You talk about him like he’s unavoidable.”
Zanka frowned slightly into his coffee.
“…He kind of is,” he admitted after a moment.
Riyo gave a small, knowing smile. Not smug, just satisfied like she’d gotten him to actually say it himself.
“Yeah,” she said. “I know.”
“Enough about Jabber,” Zanka sighed, leaning back slightly in his chair as if physically putting distance between the topic and his thoughts. “What were you texting me about Halloween yesterday?”
Riyo’s entire expression changed instantly.
Like a switch flipped.
Her eyes lit up, bright green and suddenly sharp with excitement, posture straightening as if the café had just become a design studio instead of a breakfast stop.
“Oh my God, yes,” she said, abandoning her drink entirely for the moment. “Okay, listen.”
Zanka immediately regretted asking.
Riyo leaned forward, hands already moving as she talked, like she was sketching ideas in the air. “I’ve been thinking about our costumes all night. Like, I couldn’t sleep properly because it was just-” she waved vaguely, “-there.”
“Of course you couldn’t sleep,” Zanka muttered into his coffee.
“Don’t start,” she shot back, though there was no real bite to it. “This is important.”
Zanka gave her a look. “It’s Halloween.”
“It’s Halloween,” she corrected, like that explained everything.
Riyo grabbed her frappe again but only held it, not drinking it, too busy thinking. “We need something that actually looks good. Not those lazy last-minute costumes people throw together and pretend are ‘funny’.”
“I wasn’t planning on anything,” Zanka said flatly.
“That’s why I’m here.”
He blinked at her. “Why is that your responsibility?”
“Because,” she said simply, like it was obvious, “you would show up in a black hoodie and call it a day.”
“Yeah I would.”
Riyo nodded once like she’d just confirmed a scientific fact. “Exactly. So I’m not letting that happen.”
She finally took a sip of her drink, then set it down again, already back in full creative mode. “I was thinking something coordinated. Not those really corny coordinated costumes, like actually designed.”
“That sounds expensive,” Zanka said immediately.
Riyo waved a hand. “It doesn’t have to be. I’ve got ideas.”
That made him pause slightly. “That’s what scares me.”
“Oh relax,” she said, waving a hand like she could physically smooth his stress away. “It’s not that bad. I already have a concept.”
Zanka narrowed his eyes. “That sentence is never reassuring coming from you.”
“It should be,” she replied confidently. “I’ve been thinking about Monster High.”
He blinked. “…What?”
Riyo’s eyes lit up again, instantly back in full creative mode. “Monster High. Think about it, it’s iconic, it’s stylish, and it actually gives us room to make it good instead of just throwing random stuff together.”
Zanka stared at her. “You want us to go as dolls.”
“I want us to go as characters, thank you very much.”
He took a slow sip of his coffee like it might help him process this better. It didn’t.
Riyo continued anyway, completely unbothered. “I was thinking I’d do Operetta.”
Zanka blinked again. “Of course you would.”
“She’s perfect for me,” Riyo said, like it was obvious. “Music, fashion, dramatic aesthetic- come on, it’s basically made for me.”
“That part I believe,” Zanka muttered.
Riyo ignored him. “Now you.”
Zanka immediately shook his head. “No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
She leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing playfully. “I’ve got options for you.”
“That sounds worse.”
“It’s not worse,” she said, already counting on her fingers. “There’s a few male characters that fit your vibe. Like, you could do Holt Hyde. Or Deuce. Or even Jackson if I tone it down a bit.”
Zanka frowned. “I don’t know who any of those are.”
“That’s fine,” she said quickly. “That’s my job.”
He rubbed his temple again. “I’m not dressing up as a doll.”
“You are if I say you are.”
“I’m not.”
Riyo smiled sweetly. “You will look good.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It is a little bit the point.”
Zanka didn’t respond, just stared at her over his coffee like he was reconsidering all his life choices.
Riyo, meanwhile, leaned back again, completely satisfied with herself. “Oh, and I’m also making one for Rudo.”
Zanka paused. “Huh?”
“Rudo,” she repeated. “I figured he can’t escape Halloween either.”
Zanka blinked slowly. “You didn’t ask him.”
“I will,” she said breezily. “After I pick a character for him.”
“That’s not how that works.”
“It is if I make it work.”
Zanka stared at her in silence.
Riyo just smiled back at him like that solved everything.
“Okay,” she said, tapping her cup lightly as if continuing a presentation, “worst case, if you hate all the male options, I can just gender-bend one of the female characters for you.”
Zanka blinked once. Slowly. “…No.”
“Yes,” Riyo corrected immediately.
“No,” he repeated, more firmly this time.
She leaned forward again, eyes bright with renewed enthusiasm. “Listen, it would actually work really well. Like imagine-”
“I’m not imagining anything,” Zanka cut in.
Riyo ignored him completely. “We could do Draculaura. Or Cleo. Actually, Cleo would be kind of perfect if I tweak the styling a bit.”
Zanka put his cup down carefully, like he needed both hands free for patience. “Why are you trying to turn me into a doll.”
“I’m not turning you into a doll,” she said, offended on principle. “I’m curating your Halloween costume.”
“That’s worse.”
“It’s better.”
Zanka rubbed his temple again. “I’m not dressing as a female doll.”
Riyo tilted her head, studying him. “Why not?”
“Because I’m not.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“It is to me.”
She hummed, clearly unconvinced, then leaned back in her chair again, thinking out loud. “Okay, but think about it properly. You’ve got the build for it. And I’m not saying you have to be super obvious about it, it could still be stylish, toned down, very clean lines-”
“Riyo.”
“And honestly,” she continued, talking over him now, “it would match better with Jabber’s vibe too if I’m being real.”
Zanka paused slightly at that, despite himself. “Why does Jabber’s ‘vibe’ matter?”
Riyo didn’t even hesitate. She just gave him a look like the answer should’ve been obvious.
“Because you two are basically a package deal at this point,” she said, as if she were stating a fact about the weather.
Zanka opened his mouth-
Then closed it again.
Riyo watched him for half a second, then added casually, “Also, I was thinking I could make him a costume too if he wants one.”
That got his attention.
“…What?” Zanka said slowly.
“Jabber,” she repeated, like she was explaining something simple. “If he’s coming to the party, he probably is knowing him, then I might as well include him.”
“He hasn’t said he’s going to anything,” Zanka muttered immediately.
Riyo raised an eyebrow. “He follows you around like it’s his job.”
“That’s not-”
“It kind of is,” she cut in, unbothered. “Anyway, I was thinking he could be something that matches but doesn’t look too forced. Like… maybe a complementary character. Or I can go full chaotic and do something that fits his personality instead.”
Zanka exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’re already planning costumes for people who haven’t agreed to anything.”
“That’s how planning works,” Riyo said confidently.
Zanka leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand down his face. “This is ridiculous.”
Riyo smiled sweetly over her drink. “You’re welcome.”
A beat passed.
Then Zanka groaned, low and defeated. “Why am I involved in any of this?”
“Because,” Riyo said, leaning forward again with bright eyes, “you have the most amazing, gorgeous, creative, thoughtful friend ever.”
Zanka stared at her for a long moment.
“…I hate you.”
“No you don’t,” she replied immediately.
Zanka sighs and Riyo continues talking enthusiastically about her plans for Halloween.
The rest of Zanka’s day dragged.
Lecture after lecture blurred into one long stretch of notes, diagrams, and the dull hum of a professor’s voice that refused to end. Even for someone as disciplined as him, his attention kept snagging on nothing in particular, random fragments of conversation, Riyo’s ridiculous Halloween ideas, and the persistent thought that he probably should’ve just stayed in the café longer.
By the time he finally made it back to his dorm, the sky had already started shifting toward evening.
He let himself in quietly, exhaustion sitting heavy in his shoulders, expecting the usual silence of an empty room.
Instead-
The moment he opened his bedroom door, he stopped.
Jabber was there.
Sprawled comfortably across Zanka’s bed like he owned it, one arm tucked behind his head, the other loosely holding a remote, a joint in his mouth. A movie played on the screen in front of him, casting shifting light across the room.
Zanka stared.
“…Are you serious right now?”
Jabber barely even looked up at first. He took a slow drag, exhaled lazily toward the ceiling, then finally turned his head toward Zanka with an easy grin.
“Hey,” he said casually, like Zanka had just walked into a perfectly ordinary scene. “You’re back early.”
“It’s my room,” Zanka said flatly, still standing in the doorway.
“Yeah,” Jabber agreed, nodding once. “I noticed.”
Zanka’s eyes flicked to the joint again, then back to him. “Why are you smoking in my bed?”
Jabber glanced down at it like he’d just remembered the bed existed. “Oh. Right. That.”
“…Right?”
Jabber shrugged, completely unbothered. “Window’s open.”
“That’s not the point.”
“It kind of is the point,” Jabber said, shifting slightly, making himself more comfortable like this was a debate he didn’t care about winning. “Also, your bed’s comfy.”
Zanka took a slow breath through his nose, trying very hard not to immediately lose his patience. “Get up.”
Jabber hummed, stretching out instead of moving. “You gonna make me?”
A pause.
Zanka stared at him.
Jabber stared back, still grinning faintly, like he already knew the answer.
Zanka exhaled sharply through his nose.
“How’d you get in,” he said flatly.
Jabber’s grin widened a fraction. “Rudo let me in.”
“No, he didn’t.”
A pause.
Jabber held his gaze for another second, then shrugged. “Okay, he didn’t.”
Zanka’s eyes narrowed. “So how did you get in.”
“Door was unlocked.”
“That’s worse.”
Jabber just hummed, like that was a problem for future-Zanka.
Zanka stood there for a moment longer, staring at him, at the movie playing, at his own bed being treated like a public lounge.
Then he let out a long, tired breath.
“…I don’t have the energy for this,” he muttered.
Jabber’s eyebrows lifted slightly, like he hadn’t expected that answer.
Zanka stepped fully into the room.
Without another word, he crossed over to the bed, reached down, and plucked the joint straight out of Jabber’s mouth.
Jabber blinked. “Oi-“
Zanka didn’t give him time to finish.
He brought it to his lips, took a drag, then leaned back against the edge of the bed.
Jabber stared up at him.
“…You smoking with me?” he asked, sounding mildly amused.
Zanka exhaled slowly, smoke curling away from him. “If you’re going to be insufferable in my room, I might as well be high for it.”
That earned a soft laugh from Jabber.
“Fair,” he said, shifting slightly to make more space on the bed. “Didn’t know you smoked.”
Zanka glanced at him, then the movie, then the mess of Jabber occupying his space like it was a habit.
“Not casually,” he said.
Jabber hummed, watching him like that answer was more interesting than the movie. “Mm. So this is a special occasion?”
Zanka took another slow drag, leaning back against the edge of the bed. “You breaking into my room counts.”
“Wow,” Jabber said, placing a hand over his chest dramatically. “I feel honoured.”
“You shouldn’t.”
Jabber laughed, then shifted slightly, propping himself up on his elbow to look at him better. The hoodie he’d stolen earlier had ridden up just a little, sleeves still too long, his dreads frizzier now from lying down for so long.
“You know,” he said casually, voice dipping into that familiar teasing tone, “this is kind of nice. You, me, your bed-“
“Finish that sentence and you’re sleeping outside,” Zanka cut in immediately.
Jabber grinned. “Relax. I was gonna say movie.”
Zanka didn’t look convinced.
Jabber leaned back again, exhaling slowly. “You’re so tense all the time. You ever just, like… unwind without threatening people?”
Zanka took another drag, then glanced at him sideways. “You mean like you do? By invading people’s personal space and being annoying on purpose?”
“That’s not fair,” Jabber said. “I’m also hot. It balances out.”
Zanka snorted before he could stop himself. “You wish.”
Jabber opens his mouth but Zanka cuts in.
“Riyo’s trying to make us Monster High costumes for Halloween.”
Jabber blinked. “Us?”
“Apparently,” Zanka said, taking another drag. “She already has you assigned to something.”
Jabber’s grin returned immediately. “Oh no. That sounds dangerous. What am I?”
Zanka glanced at him. “She didn’t decide yet. She said something about ‘matching aesthetics’ and then started threatening my life with fashion ideas.”
Jabber laughed. “That sounds like her.”
“She also wants to dress me up as one of the female dolls, doesn’t think the male ones fit my ‘vibe’,” Zanka added flatly.
Jabber nearly choked on his own laugh. “No way.”
“Yes way.”
“That’s actually insane,” Jabber said, clearly delighted now. “What did she pick?”
“Draculaura. Cleo. Something like that.”
Jabber whistled. “Honestly… I kind of want to see that.”
Zanka turned his head slowly toward him. “Say that again and I’ll kick you out.”
Jabber raised both hands. “I’m just appreciating the vision.”
Zanka gave him a slow look, expression flat. “Keep talking and I’ll punch you.”
Jabbers grin came right back, sharper this time. “Oh? That a promise or a threat?”
Zanka took another drag, eyes half-lidded. “Try me.”
For a second, Jabber just stared at him like he was weighing it up.
Jabber tilted his head, watching him more closely now, grin softening into something more entertained than teasing. “Im still talking, where’s that punch mr bad attitude?”
“I can do worse,” Zanka said calmly.
That got a quiet laugh out of Jabber.
“I believe you,” he admitted, sounding almost pleased about it.
Zanka finally glanced at him properly. “Yer enjoying this.”
Jabber didn’t even hesitate. “Yeah.”
Zanka narrowed his eyes slightly. “That’s weird.”
Jabber shrugged, completely unbothered. “You’re the one threatening me in your bed. I think I’m allowed to enjoy it a little.”
Zanka huffed a short laugh despite himself, looking away again. “You’re disgusting.”
“And yet,” Jabber said, stretching out lazily again, “You ain’t kick me out your bed.”
A pause.
Zanka took another slow drag, then muttered, “Don’t push it.”
Jabber’s grin widened like that was exactly what he wanted to hear.
“That makes me wanna push it,” Jabber said, voice light, almost sing-song.
Zanka exhaled smoke slowly through his nose, not even looking at him at first. “Of course it does.”
Jabber shifted closer on the bed again, propping himself up on his elbow, watching him like he was trying to get a reaction on purpose. “So what happens if I do?”
Zanka finally glanced at him.
Jabber was still leaning on his elbow on the bed, hair a mess from earlier, hoodie slightly rumpled from how much he’d been shifting around. The afternoon light spilling through the window hit his face at an angle, catching on his features in a way that made everything feel a little sharper than it should’ve.
His brown eyes looked almost red in the sunlight, warm, but edged with something restless underneath. There was that familiar grin still lingering there, but it didn’t feel lazy anymore. It felt intent. Focused in a way Jabber usually wasn’t when he was joking around.
Like he was waiting for something.
Or daring it to happen.
He looked hungry in that way he always did when he was pushing boundaries. Excited, alive with it, like the tension in the room wasn’t something to avoid but something to lean into.
Zanka noticed it, then exhaled slowly through his nose.
“…You’re enjoying this way too much,” he said flatly.
Jabber’s grin widened a fraction. “Yeah,” he admitted easily. “I am.”
That alone should’ve been annoying.
It was annoying.
And yet Zanka didn’t tell him to leave.
The silence stretched between them again, but it wasn’t the same kind as before. It wasn’t empty. It wasn’t awkward. It was just… there. Full in a way neither of them seemed interested in fixing.
Jabber broke it first, voice lighter again, slipping back into familiar territory like nothing had changed at all.
“So,” he said, tilting his head slightly, a loose dread falling into his face. “About Halloween.”
Zanka groaned under his breath. “Of course you’re still on that.”
“Obviously,” Jabber replied, like that was a ridiculous question. “Your friend is trying to turn you into a doll and I’m apparently part of a matching set. I need updates.”
“We are not a matching set.”
Jabber smiled. “That’s not what Riyo thinks.”
Zanka sat up a little more, dragging a hand down his face. “Riyo thinks a lot of things.”
“True,” Jabber said, nodding. “But she’s also kind of right about you.”
Zanka paused. “About what.”
Jabber’s grin widened slightly again, but softer now than earlier. Less teasing. More observant.
“That you don’t actually hate it,” he said simply.
Zanka stared at him for a second too long.
Then looked away first.
“…I hate a lot of things,” he muttered.
Jabber laughed quietly. “Yeah. But not this.”
That made something shift in the air again. Small, subtle, easy to ignore if you wanted to.
Zanka didn’t respond.
Instead, he reached for the joint again without thinking, like muscle memory, like it was easier than answering anything properly. Jabber let him take it without comment, watching him the whole time.
Zanka took a slow drag, then leaned back again, eyes half-lidded as smoke drifted lazily toward the ceiling.
“You’re still coming to the party,” he said eventually.
It wasn’t a question.
Jabber’s grin returned immediately. “Was that ever in doubt?”
Zanka glanced at him. “It should’ve been.”
Jabber only shrugged, settling further into the bed like the conversation had already decided its own ending. “Too late now.”
Zanka exhaled, slower this time, gaze drifting back to the ceiling instead of him.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The movie kept playing in the background, forgotten.
The room stayed warm, quiet, lived-in.
Eventually, Jabber shifted just slightly, turning his head toward him again.
“You know,” he said, voice quieter now, “you’re kinda fun like this.”
Zanka didn’t look at him. “Don’t start.”
Jabber hummed softly, like that was fine. Like he wasn’t going to push it right now.
“…Yeah,” he said instead. “Okay.”
And for once, he stayed where he was.
Zanka didn’t tell him to leave.
Not when the sun started to dip lower.
Not when the room got quieter.
Not even when the silence between them started to feel less like space, but more like something neither of them had figured out how to name yet.
He just stayed there.
And so did Jabber.