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Rudo stood stiff in the corner of the hospital room, arms cinched tightly across his chest like he was trying to hold himself together. His shoulders were tense, the muscles aching from how long he’d been standing like that, but he didn’t move. Not when the walls felt too white, too empty. Not when the air was thick with that weird, chemical stink. Not when the only sounds were that damn buzzing light overhead that made the back of his neck twitch.
He didn’t belong here. Hospitals weren’t made for people like him. People who didn’t know what to do with their hands or where to look when someone was hurting. He hated it here. Hated how quiet it was. Hated how everything smelled like fake cleanliness.
But most of all, more than anything else, he hated seeing Zanka like this .
He was supposed to be fine. Always calm. Always composed. Always kind of mean in that smartass, cool way he talked. But now Zanka was lying on a hospital bed, and even though he didn't look like he was actively dying, he looked… off. Not like himself.
His skin was paler. His clothes weren’t even neat. Zanka never let his clothes look wrinkled.
Rudo kept looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t know what to say.
What were you supposed to say when someone got hurt?
Was he supposed to say sorry? Was that what people said? But sorry for what? He hadn’t done it. And Zanka would probably say something snarky if he did. So he didn’t. He just stared at the floor.
Then Zanka’s voice broke the silence. Rough. Quiet.
“I ain’t good enough.”
Rudo looked up fast.
What?
Zanka didn’t sound mad. Didn’t even sound upset. Just... normal…
“I’m still too weak,” Zanka muttered. “That’s the problem.”
His hand clenched the bed sheets so tightly the veins in his arm stood out.
“Ain’t nobody’s fault but mine,” he said. “So no matter how many times I hear ‘I’m sorry’—don’t matter. I’m not gonna blame anyone.”
Rudo didn’t know what to do with that. His brows furrowed. His jaw clenched.
He hadn’t even said anything yet, but it already felt like Zanka was shutting him down. Like he’d already decided what everyone was gonna say and was brushing it off before they opened their mouths.
That was so like him.
Someone else in the room that Rudo barely remembered who said something about helping pay for the hospital fees.
But Zanka just cut them off.
“Don’t want that neither,” he said, louder this time. “I don’t need your money.”
Even now, sitting there all beat up and pale, Zanka still had that annoying confidence in his voice. Like nothing touched him. Like he could punch the world back into place if he just tried hard enough.
“I can get stronger without it,” he said. Then smirked. “Don’t sell me so short.”
Rudo gritted his teeth.
Why was he acting like this wasn’t a big deal? He’d nearly died . He looked like he’d nearly died.
Why wasn’t he angry? Or frustrated? Why wasn’t he saying someone else should’ve done better? Why wasn’t he yelling like Rudo would be if it were him in that bed?
Why wasn’t he blaming Rudo?
That made Rudo feel the weirdest.
Because deep down, he thought Zanka should blame him. He was from the Sphere. This whole mess had something to do with him. If he hadn’t come here, maybe—
“ Stupid ,” Rudo muttered, almost under his breath.
It just came out. Not because he meant to insult Zanka. But because his chest hurt and his head felt full and he didn’t know how else to say ‘you scared me’ or ‘I don’t like seeing you like this’ or ‘stop acting like this is nothing’ .
Zanka snorted a little. Not mad. Just amused.
Rudo scratched at his sleeve. His fingers were fidgeting again, twisting the fabric over and over. He wanted to punch something. Not because he was mad. Just because he didn’t know what to do with everything he was feeling. It was like his whole chest was stuffed full of something hot and heavy and wordless.
He hated it.
Still… he stayed.
Even when the silence dragged.
Even when he didn’t know what else to say.
Even when he wanted to run out and throw a punch at the wall just to stop thinking—
He didn’t leave.
Because he was scared.
He wasn’t scared when he first fell from the sphere.
He wasn’t even scared of the trashbeasts.
But when he saw Zanka slumped over on Riyo’s shoulder, looking like he wasn’t breathing?
He was scared he’d lost him.
And he didn’t know what that meant.
Everyone else had left the hospital room. The mayor. The nurses. Even Enjin, who only came to check on things before disappearing again. All of them walked out eventually.
But Rudo didn’t.
He stayed.
Just stood there. Like he was stuck. Like he’d forgotten how to move, or where to go. The quiet buzz of the lights filled the space where people used to be.
Zanka was lying in the bed, still and stiff. His face looked pale. His eyes stayed shut, like maybe if he kept them closed long enough, Rudo would vanish on his own.
But he didn’t. And eventually, Zanka spoke.
“You still got somethin’ to say, Rudo?” The words came slow and gritty, like gravel in his throat. “Or is this pity?”
His eyelids peeled open, sharp and narrow. His gaze was too sharp to look at for long.
“’Cause if it’s pity, I’m chuckin’ you outta here, even if it busts my stitches open.”
Rudo didn’t say anything.
Mostly because he didn’t know what to say.
Was it pity? He didn’t think so. It didn’t feel like that. But he couldn’t explain it either. Couldn’t explain the thing coiled up in his stomach or the tight feeling behind his ribs. It was something that made his chest feel full and empty all at once.
Zanka sat up a little, sucking in a sharp breath like it hurt. But he forced it anyway.
“Looks like you ain’t understandin’ me,” he muttered. “So I’ll say it again.”
His jaw was clenched. Hard .
“I ain’t fallen so low as to blame Remlin for my shortcomings.”
Rudo blinked.
Zanka’s fists bunched in the sheets, his knuckles whitening. His hands were shaking now and not like before. This wasn’t from pain.
“If I was fightin’ for real… and I still got beat up worse than anybody else…”
There was a pause.
A crack in the voice. Just a tiny one.
“If the bad guys wiped the floor with me the whole damn time... if I was completely, utterly useless—”
His fists trembled. His arm jerked which in turn made Rudo flinch without meaning to.
“I just have to get stronger and the problem goes away !” Zanka shouted suddenly, raw and loud and desperate. “ Just you watch! I mean it!”
And then nothing.
No sound.
Just the hum of the lights, and Zanka’s heavy breathing.
Rudo stared. He didn’t look away.
Couldn’t.
Zanka looked furious. Not at him. Not at anyone.
Just at himself.
He wasn’t yelling because he hated Remlin. Or the fight. Or the team.
He was yelling because he meant it. Because he believed it. Because no matter how much it hurt, he still wanted to be better. Even if it broke him.
He didn’t blame anyone.
Not Remlin.
Not the mayor.
Not the others.
Not even him .
Rudo’s throat tightened.
He was the problem. The spark that started this whole thing.
He was the reason they’d been in danger in the first place. That should’ve been enough reason to get hated.
But Zanka didn’t say it.
Didn’t even hint at it.
It made something shift in Rudo’s chest. A weird, cold ache curling under his ribs. It wasn’t guilt exactly. Or maybe it was. Or maybe it was something else.
He didn’t know what to do with it.
He adjusted the strap of the bag he was holding. It gave his hands something to do.
“I brought you somethin’,” Rudo muttered, eyes fixed on the floor like it might open up and save him from this.
Zanka glanced up. “What?”
Rudo didn’t answer right away. His fingers were already curled tight around the crumpled bag, like they’d made up their mind without him.
He hated this part.
The in-between moments where people were supposed to guess what you meant, or how you felt, or what the hell you were even trying to do. He never got it right.
So he didn’t wait. He just yanked the thing out of the bag in one stiff motion and shoved it out in front of him.
It was flowers. Fake ones. The petals were a little crushed and waxy looking, kind of bent from being stuffed around in the bag all day. But they were blue. It was sort of cloudy blue.
They reminded him of Zanka. Not in a way he could explain.
Just… they did .
Zanka blinked at them. His expression didn’t change much, but something in his brow twitched like he was trying to process what exactly was being handed to him.
“…What the hell is this?”
“It’s flowers,” Rudo said too fast, the words snapping out like they were a warning. “Do you like it?”
He was already tense, like he expected to get laughed at. Maybe he did. Maybe that would’ve been easier than this weird silence pressing down on his chest.
He shoved the flowers a little closer, not looking up. His throat felt scratchy, like something was caught in it. The longer Zanka didn’t say anything, the worse it got.
The flowers made his chest hurt a little when he saw them. He didn’t know why.
He thought maybe they’d make Zanka happy.
That was it. That was all.
The same way Chiwa had looked at him after he gave her that old stuffed animal. Like he’d done something right without trying too hard.
That kind of look.
That kind of moment.
Something simple.
But now he just felt dumb.
He didn’t know what Zanka was supposed to say. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say. Everything inside him felt too loud, like a ringing in his ears he couldn’t shake off.
Zanka was still staring at the flowers like they were some kind of joke he didn’t get.
Rudo shifted his weight, scuffed his boot against the ground. He’d already said it meant something. That should’ve been enough. Wasn’t it obvious?
Zanka’s brow ticked. “You’re not makin’ any sense. What am I supposed to do with this?”
That stupid burning feeling crept back into Rudo’s chest again. He hated it. It made his arms feel heavy and his head all fuzzy, like someone had stuffed cotton behind his eyes. Like he wanted to rip the flowers back and throw them in the trash.
…But also didn’t .
He didn’t even know why he felt like that. Zanka hadn’t even said anything that bad.
“It’s not for anything,” Rudo snapped. “You just keep it.”
Keep it. Look at it. Maybe… think of him .
Was that weird?
Was that not how this was supposed to go?
Zanka made a noise in his throat, low and confused. “You handin’ me garbage now? Real generous.”
Rudo’s stomach dropped. His fists clenched. “It’s not garbage. They’re—they’re pretty,” he insisted, voice tight and quick. “I picked ‘em out. Thought they looked like you or whatever.”
He froze.
That last part. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud.
Zanka squinted at him. “Like me ?”
Rudo made a strangled sound in his throat and turned half away, shoulders up, like if he curled in hard enough, he’d disappear. “ Forget it .”
Zanka didn’t say anything for a second. Just looked at the flowers again, then back at him. His face didn’t move much, but Rudo saw his eyes flicker. Just barely.
“...You’re weird.”
Rudo bristled. “You’re weirder .”
It came out fast, stupid. He wanted to leave. He wanted Zanka to take the flowers. He wanted to punch something. He didn’t know which.
There was a long pause.
Then Zanka reached out, slow, like he wasn’t sure if the flowers were gonna bite him, and took the bouquet from Rudo’s hand.
Not gently. Just… carefully.
Rudo blinked.
Zanka held the basket in his hands. He looked at them again, eyes narrowing.
He didn’t smile. Not really. But something in his face… shifted. Just a little. Like a twitch behind the eyes, like he was thinking too hard.
Rudo stared, unmoving.
“This your way of apologizin’?” Zanka asked, tone dry.
Rudo stiffened. “It’s not an apology.”
Zanka looked up, half a smirk playing at his lips again. “Sure feels like one.”
“I said it ain’t!” Rudo barked, louder than intended.
Zanka winced slightly from the noise but didn’t break eye contact.
Rudo looked away again, this time toward the cracked ceiling tiles.
There was a beat of quiet.
Then Zanka said, almost like he was talking to himself, “…I like my flowers red.”
Rudo scowled. “Then give it back.”
Zanka didn’t.
“…Nah. I’ll keep it.”
Rudo’s heart hiccupped.
He didn’t understand what that meant. But it felt like something. And for now, that was enough.
For the first time since walking into the room, Rudo’s chest didn’t feel like it was trying to crush him. The pins and needles that had crawled up his arms slowed to an almost manageable buzz.
Rudo’s throat tightened when he finally spoke. “Zanka. Can I stay here for a while?”
The question was quiet, almost lost in the room. But it was there.
Zanka said nothing.
No sharp words. No “ Get out .” No cold looks.
Maybe, for once, that meant something.
Zanka’s eyes flicked to him, tired and flat. “I’m not going to die. The poison won’t kill me.”
“ I know—I know ,” Rudo said fast, like saying it more might keep it true.
His jaw clenched so hard he bit his lip until blood dripped onto his teeth. The coppery taste spread in his mouth.
His mind kept dragging him back to that awful moment.
Zanka’s body, all limp and pale and thrown over Riyo’s shoulder like he was a ragdoll. Like he’d already given up. Like he was gone .
He didn’t want to think about it.
He stared hard at the floor instead, like it’d shut the memory out if he glared long enough.
His fists curled tight, nails digging into the palms until it burned.
His eyes itched. Stung.
No.
No, no, no.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to cry.
Not like this.
But the pressure behind his eyes built anyway. Hot and sharp, twisting up into a knot that made his stomach turn. Furious, sick, and scared all at once, but none of it made sense.
Something inside him cracked open, jagged and raw.
He hadn’t been scared inside the Trashbeast.
Hadn’t been scared when Zodyl confronted him.
Not even when that crazy woman with the electric hair tried to fry them all.
He blinked hard, fast, trying to force the tears back into hiding. He’d rather die than cry in front of Zanka.
But that—
Seeing Zanka like that—
That terrified him.
Zanka’s eyes snapped open. “ Holy shit, kid—”
He pushed himself up too fast, and the grimace that flashed across his face told Rudo he’d hurt himself more than he let on. But Zanka didn’t stop moving.
Rudo ducked his head, the sting behind his eyes suddenly sharp. He scrubbed at his face hard with his sleeve, hoping to wipe whatever was there away before Zanka could see.
“Shut up. Don’t look at me,” he muttered, voice rough, like the words were scratching against his throat.
Zanka blinked slowly, clearly thrown off. Rudo could almost hear the gears turning in his head. He probably expected a fight, or maybe some yelling, or hell, even a broken piece of furniture to fly in his direction.
But this?
This wasn’t it.
“…Are you crying?” Zanka asked, disbelief hanging thick in his voice.
“ No !” Rudo snapped, voice breaking halfway through. That only made it sound worse.
Zanka stared for a moment, mouth opening like he was about to say something but then closing it again.
For a long time, no one spoke.
Rudo stayed hunched over, refusing to meet Zanka’s eyes. His chest tightened and a cold knot settled low in his belly.
Then, quieter, more careful now, Zanka finally said, “Did you think I was dead?”
Rudo didn’t answer.
Couldn’t .
Saying anything would just make it worse.
Zanka let out a dry breath through his nose. “…You idiot.”
That word hit differently. Rudo’s head jerked up, face flushing. “What?”
Zanka held his gaze steady, expression unreadable. “If I’d actually died from something that dumb, I’d haunt you forever.”
There was a pause, the kind that filled the space with too much noise inside Rudo’s head.
Zanka shook his head slowly. “You look like you’re about to explode.”
“I’m fine,” Rudo snapped, wiping at his nose with the back of his sleeve, fighting the sting. “You’re the one who almost died,”
“And yet you’re the one crying,”
“I’m not!”
Zanka didn’t argue. He leaned back against the pillow, eyes drifting to the ceiling like the world was suddenly too heavy. “ Tch . You’re so dramatic.”
Rudo turned his face away, burning red but stubbornly stayed put.
After a beat, he muttered, barely loud enough for himself, “I didn’t notice… not until it was already too late.”
Zanka’s eyes flicked toward him, sharp but quiet.
Rudo’s voice dropped even lower. “You’re always… fine. Always act like nothing’s wrong. I didn’t think. Didn’t even see it. Not until —” His throat caught on the words. “Not until you were gone .”
Silence stretched long between them.
Then, finally, Zanka said simply, “But I’m not gone.”
Rudo didn’t answer. Couldn’t figure out how.
Zanka glanced toward the table, where the plastic flowers sat.
“…You can stay,” he said after a moment. “Just stop biting yourself. You’re gonna bleed all over the floor.”
Rudo flexed his fingers, feeling the sting where he’d bitten hard. “I wasn’t crying, by the way.”
“ Sure .”
“I wasn’t.”
Zanka smirked faintly, eyes already fluttering closed. “You’re worse than dear santa...”
Rudo grunted. “…Shut up.”
Zanka started shifting on the bed, the mattress creaking softly beneath him.
Rudo blinked, eyes still stinging from earlier, and looked up just in time to see Zanka lift the corner of the blanket.
“Huh—”
“Come on,” Zanka muttered, voice low and rough, eyes half closed like he was too tired to argue. “I promise I don’t stink.”
Rudo stared at him blankly.
Zanka said nothing. Just held the blanket up a little more.
Rudo’s heart stuttered or maybe that was just the weird tightness in his chest. He looked around the room like someone was about to walk in and laugh at him for even considering it. But no one came.
He hesitated, then slowly, awkwardly kicked off his shoes, the sound too loud in the quiet room. His legs felt clumsy and foreign as he climbed onto the bed.
The mattress groaned under the extra weight. It was too small, or maybe Zanka was just way too tall. His legs took up half the space like he was sprawling across the whole thing.
Rudo sat stiff, unsure, trying to keep his limbs close, like curling up would make him less obvious. His hands fidgeted on his lap, fingers twitching but not quite able to settle.
“You’re terrible at this,” Zanka said, voice low and tired, not really annoyed but not exactly kind either.
Before Rudo could even think of something snappy, Zanka’s hands reached out, unexpectedly gentle.
He grabbed Rudo’s arm and started moving him, shifting him like he was folding some awkward, stiff piece of clothing.
Rudo didn’t fight it. He just stayed still, his skin prickling at the contact.
Zanka adjusted him until Rudo was lying on his side, his head resting right on Zanka’s legs.
The warmth there was quiet but there, making something inside Rudo buzz without warning.
“…Is that alright?” Zanka asked, eyes watching him carefully.
Rudo didn’t trust himself to say anything. His throat felt thick and dry.
He nodded once, barely.
Swallowed hard, feeling like the air itself was too heavy.
His cheek pressed into something soft but solid. He didn’t realize until too late that his eyes were still wet. There was a damp patch forming beneath his face, soaking into Zanka’s clothes.
Rudo grimaced, barely moving. His fists curled in close to his chest. He didn’t know where to put them. Didn’t know what the hell you were supposed to do in a situation like this. The silence made everything louder. His breath, too shallow. The slow thudding of his heart. The occasional creak of the bed frame beneath them, like it was reminding him,
yeah, this is real.
And then—
A hand landed on his head.
Not a slap. Not a shove. Just… pressure .
Warm.
Steady.
Fingers slid into his hair. Not yanking. Not ruffling. Just moving. Slowly. Carefully. Like Zanka was trying not to startle a wild animal.
Rudo stopped breathing.
His whole body tensed. His gut told him to bite. To jerk away. To laugh it off with something cruel before it got too weird. But his body didn’t listen.
He just lay there.
Frozen.
And confused.
What the hell was this?
He didn’t get it. It wasn’t a threat. It wasn’t pity either, or at least not exactly. It was something in between. Something softer, harder to fight. And for some stupid reason, it made his chest ache.
His eyes stung again, like his body hadn’t figured out that the crying part was done. He clamped his jaw shut. Swallowed hard. If Zanka noticed, he didn’t say anything.
It reminded him of that time Riyo messed with his hair back in the car, when her fingers had combed through the strands, like it didn’t bother her how messy he was, his brain had shortcircuited.
This was worse.
No —different.
He shifted, just barely. Enough to adjust how his head rested against Zanka’s leg. Still didn’t say anything. Still didn’t move away.
Zanka didn’t either.
The hand kept going, fingers combing through his hair like it was routine. Like it wasn’t weird. Like this was something normal people did and Rudo just… hadn’t gotten the memo.
He didn’t even like being touched. Never had. Not really. Touch was always about force. Control. Shoving or being shoved. Except when it came to Regto but…
But this…
Why wasn’t he pulling away?
Why wasn’t he snapping at him?
He could’ve. Should’ve . But he didn’t.
And somehow, that was worse than anything.
His arms were still tucked in close to his chest like he was bracing for impact. The tension was there under the skin and buried deep, but it didn’t explode. Not this time. His body stayed warm and stupid and still.
He stared at the wall, half expecting it to give him a reason. Some kind of exit.
It didn’t.
The mattress shifted a little under Zanka’s weight, a creak that nearly snapped the spell, but the hand didn’t stop. Just kept moving. Slow. Repetitive. Almost methodical. Rudo could feel every drag of fingers across his scalp, down through tangled strands, back up again.
He felt… weird .
Like his body had turned into jelly, like all the tension was still there, but dulled under the pressure of something he didn’t understand. Like he’d been dropped into warm water without warning, and his body began melting into his touch.
He hated how easy it was to stay still.
He hated how safe it felt.
He hated that he didn’t really hate it.
And so, he breathed. Quiet. Controlled. Like if he got too loud, the moment would shatter and he’d be exposed to whatever this was, whatever it meant.
He didn’t know.
Didn’t get it.
Didn’t know if he was supposed to.
But for now, he stayed exactly where he was. Not because he had to. Not because he couldn’t move.
But because against all logic, he didn’t want to.
His jaw locked tight at his realization.
This wasn’t normal.
Guys didn’t do this. Not in the Sphere. Not with him.
Not unless they wanted something. Or were mocking you. Or about to pull a knife.
But Zanka hadn’t said a word since he’d let Rudo collapse on top of him. Just kept his hand where it was resting lightly on Rudo’s head, fingers moving slow, like smoothing wrinkles from old fabric.
Rudo stared straight ahead at the wall. His throat felt like it had swallowed a gear wrong. He should say something. Tell Zanka to quit it. That it was weird. That he wasn’t some busted up kid needing coddling
But the words didn’t come.
His chest stung, tight in a way he didn’t know how to fix. Not like bruises. Not like broken bones. This was worse. Too quiet. Too soft. Like someone was trying to crawl under his skin without asking.
He blinked hard and wiped his nose on his sleeve, trying to be subtle about it. He was sure Zanka noticed. Probably felt the movement. Probably felt the way Rudo’s breath kept stuttering every few seconds like he was trying not to hiccup.
The silence stretched out, long and thick. Not heavy. Just… full. Like it had weight. Like it was made of something.
Rudo opened his mouth. Closed it. Then said, hoarsely:
“…You do stink.”
It came out too sharp. Too much bite, not enough distance. He wasn’t even sure why he said it. The air was too thick with stuff he didn’t understand, and he’d reached for the first thing that made sense to him.
Insulting him.
Zanka didn’t move. Didn’t even flinch. His hand just paused for half a second, then kept moving again, like Rudo hadn’t said anything worth reacting to.
“Mm,” was all he said.
Rudo squinted. What the hell did that mean? Was that agreement? Disagreement? Was Zanka annoyed? Mocking him? Or just ignoring him?
The confusion sat like a weight in his gut. He hated not knowing how people felt. Hated how Zanka never made anything clear.
“…The flowers weren’t real,” he muttered, picking at the fabric.
Still nothing.
“I didn’t know they don’t grow down here...”
The hand didn’t stop. Didn’t speed up. Just stayed there on his head. Steady. Patient.
Rudo’s voice dropped even lower, like saying it any louder might snap the thread of whatever this was.
“Maybe…” He swallowed. “Maybe I could bring you to the Sphere someday. Show you real ones.”
Immediately, his stomach flipped. Too much. Too soft . It sounded weird. Desperate.
He winced. Didn’t look up. He didn’t even know if Zanka cared about stuff like that. Flowers. Or the Sphere. Or him.
Zanka didn’t respond. Just breathed out softly. Through his nose, maybe. Hard to tell.
Rudo lay still, eyes fixed on the far wall. His fingers twitched at the edge of the blanket. His ribs ached, not from bruises this time, but from something tighter. Something he didn’t have words for.
He hated this. Hated sitting in silence like this. Hated the way his thoughts kept circling. The way the silence made every inch of his skin feel raw and exposed.
But Zanka didn’t move. Didn’t say he was being weird. Didn’t tell him to get off. Just stayed there, letting Rudo rest against him like it wasn’t strange.
Like it was okay.
His eyes were starting to sting again but not from crying. Just tired, he told himself. Just from everything catching up to him.
And the warmth of Zanka’s legs beneath his head, the blanket draped over both of them, the weight of another heartbeat close enough to feel… it started to pull him under, slow and quiet.
He let his fingers uncoil from the fabric.
Didn’t say anything else.
Didn’t have to.
Rudo would never see the way Zanka smiled down at him. Just barely. That smug, tired kind of smile. The kind someone gives when they’ve been waiting for a long time for a moment no one else but him would cherish.