Chapter Text
Earth one,Zanka kun.
Zanka kun grew up in a house that looked like a showroom and felt like a courtroom and just like the judge father’s voice was the loudest thing in it. Zanka although being the youngest of three siblings felt alone. When their father’s mood turned, they didn’t step in , no instead they would turn on him telling him things like he should have been quieter, smaller, betteranything to pin the blame on him.
He learnt to live with it learned to suck it up both bruises and harsh words. He promised himself that all this was temporary and that he would get himself out of there.Graduation came and he left the moment he could moving into a shared house in the city with three other students, a part time job at a corner bookstore, and a circle of friends who taught him what normal sounded like. Follo was in that circle too they’d gone to the same high school. Follo had asked him out once, back when Zanka was still living at home, still trying to survive a conservative house by becoming it. He’d said no fear and disgust at the thought of being a homo,He’d hated himself for it for years not having had the chance of explaining his situation to Follo but it didnt matter as it wouldn’t have changed his answer then.Alot had changed since then ....since he met him.
Jabber came later, and he came quietly.
They met during closing shift at the bookstore Zanka had started working at.That day Jabber was restocking poetry, sleeves rolled over toffe toned arms humming under his breath like he wasn’t performing for anyone. He didn’t ask Zanka about his family. He didn’t flinch at the way Zanka over apologized for dropping a book. He just handed him a coffee at 9:40pm and said, “You look like you need this,” didn’t pry or judge him.
For the first month, Zanka treated him like a polite stranger. For the second month, he started staying late on purposewanting to be around for longer.
Jabber had a way of making space feel safe and non-suffocating he asked questions and waited for the answer. He remembered and noticed small things that mean nothing but everything like how Zanka hated green tea, that he read the same page twice when he was anxious also the way he went quiet when his phone buzzed with his father’s name. Jabbernever pried. He just left the door open.
With Jabber, Zanka started trying things he’d spent his life avoiding , Jabber pulled him out of his comfort zone. He joined the friends’ weekly board game night instead of making excuses. He let someone take a photo of him without spending an hour over analysing it then deleting it . He laughed in public without checking if anyone was watching.
Jabber made confidence look like habit. When Zanka froze during a presentation at work, Jabber was in the back row, nodding like he already knew Zanka would get to the end.
One time Zanka snapped at him but Jabber didn’t leave the room. He sat on the floor, back against the couch, and said, “You're allowed to be tired ,to feel frustrated , you don’t have to be fine with me.”
That was the sentence that cracked Zanka open.
Because with Jabber, he didn’t have to be polished and he sure as hell didn’t have to fake perfection. He could be the version of himself that flinched at loud voices, that hoarded apologies, that still heard his father in his head, he was allowed to have bad days. He could say, “I don’t know if I’m safe,” and Jabber would answer, “You are here and with me.That’s enough for today.”
They had been dating for three years it wasn’t loud it was steady. Routine morning texts and grocery runs they’d go together. Jabber learning how Zanka liked his eggs. Zanka learning how Jabber’s shoulders dropped when he was finally off the clock. They argued about books and movies then made up over bad takeout and slow make outs. Jabber had a laugh that started in his stomach and pulled Zanka into it every time.
Zanka felt seen in a way he’d never had language for not as a project or a pawn. But as a person who was allowed to be soft without it being used against him.Jabber made him believe the past was a room he’d walked out of, not a shadow that followed him.
They had plans for the next day.
Not small plans. Big, terrifying, hopeful ones.
Jabber had been looking at apartments all week and left tabs open on Zanka’s laptop, a second floor place in their neighborhood, sunlight in the kitchen, a balcony big enough for two chairs ,two bedroomed place but they’d probably use one. “We don’t have to decide tonight,” Jabber had said, thumb brushing Zanka’s knuckles. “But I want to I'd like it if we tried. I love the idea of coming home to our own space,coming home to you.”
They were supposed to go see it after Jabber’s shift. Zanka had already texted Enjin in his excitement, “ if we take it , i don’t want to hear your i told you so’s.”
Jabber was working late to cover someone else’s hours. He’d promised to call when he was locking up.The call didn’t come....
Instead, Zanka’s phone lit up at 10:23pm with a number he didn’t know. A police officer. A robbery at the bookstore. Ashooting and then... Jabber’s name.
Zanka said, “No.” Out loud. Like if he said it firmly enough, the word would rewind.
He went to the hospital anyway,Enjin drove him after pulling him up from the floor because part of him was still arguing with reality. He sat in a hallway that smelled like bleach and stared at a wall until a doctor’s mouth moved and the sound didn’t match the shape of his life.
He didn’t believe it he couln’t accept it, not at first. Not for hours. He kept checking his phone for Jabber’s name calling a number that never answered. He kept listening for the key in the door. He kept thinking, He’s going to walk through that door because all this is a mistake.
But the only constant light in his life had been taken without warning, without a goodbye, without the apartment viewing they were supposed to have in the morning.After that, his own light went out.
His life became quiet ,cold again even the coffee tasted like nothing. His friends’ voices sounded far away, like they were talking through glass. The first crack appeared he stopped answering texts and stopped eating unless someone put food in front of him. The old Zanka came back ....the one who blamed himself for the silence,the worried looks Enjin and Riyo exchanged occasionally in his presence and for everything that went wrong in a room.
He kept reaching for his phone hoping to see a messege pop up from Jabber while he reread their chats that he had now memorised. His thumb would hover over his display name then click the display picture of them together.
The grief wasn’t dramatic, it was domestic. The almost life they could have had ,the little haven they had planned for themselves. It was every small, safe place Jabber had built in him collapsing at once.That night, he cleaned his room until it was spotless. He ran a bath. He sat on the edge of it with his head in his hands.Blade sharp and ready in his hand. The choice was there, unspoken and final.
—————————————————————
Earth two, Zanka san.
Zanka san grew up in the same kind of mansion, with the same kind of father. But the difference was where he put the damage unlike Zanka kun he didn’t turn it inward no he turned it outward. Kyouka learned to cover for him. She paid, she lied, she smoothed things over before anyone else noticed.
He met Jabber after school, outside a train station. Jabber had a stack of resumes he had been passing around to stores in case of vacancies or future openings and he wore the look of someone who was tired but still trying. Zanka took one look and started doing math.He saw exactly what he needed.
He didn’t see Jabber the person, he saw Jabber the use.Jabber needed money for college. Zanka had anger, money, and a house that didn’t ask questions. He offered Jabber “easy work” that paid better than shifts. He framed it like a favor. He told himself it was mutual.
He knew Jabber wouldn’t walk away. Not because Jabber was weak, but because he was cornered.He had problems bigger than an angry rich kid college tuition,rent and no safety net. Zanka understood that kind of pressure, and he used it to his dark advantage.
When he suggested Jabber move in, he already knew the answer because Jabber had nowhere else to go. Saying yes meant a roof even if included beatings wrapped in a price tag.It also meant Zanka would always be a room away instead of the usual call and bus ride over.
He kept Jabber there through college as his personal punching bag an outlet for his rage because it was convenient. He also had Follo, his boyfriend since high school, because Follo’s patience made Zanka feel less like the person he was when no one was watching.
The night it shattered started with his father.
“Start meeting people I choose for you,” his father said, like Zanka’s life was a schedule to be managed.
Zanka had spent years pushing back. In high school he’d even threatened to take things public if his father kept beating on him trying to control him. It never stuck though his father just found new ways to meddle, new angles, new demands.
He left the house furious and drove back to the apartment he shared with Jabber. The anger was already there jaw tightened. Then he saw Jabber at the table with his notebooks and applications, applying to internships, a future he was choosing for himself.
That was the spark that ignited it all.
Zanka’s life was being dictated, and here was Jabber buildingand planning something that he chose for himself. The rage had nowhere else to go fists clenched he lunged at Jabber slamming him down on his notes , blow after blow rained down ,knuckles cracking against Jabbers jaw and ribs each impact wet and unforgiving blood smeared jealousy on the applications and books, split knuckles as Jabber crumpled, gasping.....he lost control. Jabber was hurt badly enough to be rushed to the hospital.
The ER smelled like cold coffee and panic. Zanka paced the hallway while a nurse took his name down twice because his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. When Follo arrived, he was still in his work shirt, out of breath.Fear visible on his face.
Follo didn’t ask if Jabber was okay first. He looked at Zankataking all of him in bloodied hand and eyes that refused to meet his.
“You did this,” Follo said. Quiet. Not a question.
Zanka’s jaw tightened anger rising at the accusation, “You weren’t there. My father...”
“Don’t.” Follo stepped closer. The hallway light made him look older. Tired. “I’ve been telling you for years. ‘One day you’re going to go too far, Zanka.’ Remember? I said it after the thing with your sister’s car. After the internship. I said it.”
“That was different...”
“No, it wasn’t.” Follo’s voice didn’t rise. That was the worst part. “You keep saying it’s your father blaming it on the pressure. It’s everyone else handing the blame over to someone else...when do you say it’s you?”
Zanka dragged a hand through his hair. “I’m changing Follo please I swear I am. I’ll get help. Professional help. Therapy. Anything, you name it i swear I'll see it through.Just don’t...’
Follo sighed deeply and shook his head. Slow. Final.
“I’ve been patient, Zanka, all these years together . I stayed because I thought if I stayed long enough, you’d get your shit together. I thought love would be enough to make you choose differently.” He exhaled like he’d been holding it for a decade. “It isn’t. This is as far as I go this is as fas as we go.”
Zanka reached for his arm. “Follo, please. I can...”
“You can’t fix this tonight.” Follo pulled back. “I’ve been thinking about our future about my future ,I decided I’m gonna go through with the move and study abroad.There is no forward for us. I passed my limit a long time ago Zanka just let it go let us go and get some help.”
The words landed like a door closing.
Zanka stood there with nothing left to argue with. No one else to blame. Just the sound of machines down the hall and the weight of what he’d done.Follo waqlking out of his life.
He walked out. The night air was too sharp and he needed a cigarette. He needed to not be in his own skin for five minutes. He stepped off the curb without looking......
There was no impact. No sound.
Just white. Not hospital white. Not snow. A white that had no edges, no floor, no ceiling. A place that felt like the second between a breath in and a breath out.
—————————————————————
Zanka kun opened his eyes first,his chest didn’t hurt it felt wrong.He remembers the bath water and the blade slicing through his skin ,the sting and,the sting and the blood, the weight... all gone.
Across from him stood another man....him. His face. His height. His mouth.
But not him.
Zanka san looked like a version carved out of stone. Same face, but the softness was missing and his eyes were sharp, dry, empty in a way that made Zanka kuns stomach turn. He stood with his weight on one leg, arms folded, like he was auditing a room he didn’t respect. To Zanka kun, he looked like himself if grief had never been allowed in.
Zanka san looked back and felt disgust rise first. The man before him was him, but thinner. Pale. Shoulders curled in like he was waiting to be hit. Hollow eyes. Broken in places Zanka san didn’t believe should be allowed to break. He looked weak and lost. Pathetic.
Between them, the air rippled.
A man stepped through it like it was a curtain. Coat the color of dusk and shoes that made no sound. He smiled like he’d been waiting for them to notice him.
“Sura Zal,” he said. His voice was warm and wrong at the same time. “Lazarus, if you like wordplay. Dead men need nicknames. It also makes for a good ice breaker dont you think?”
Zanka kuns throat worked. “Where are we?”
“You’re in the hallway,or limbo or purgatory whatever people call it these days” Sura Zal said. “Between two doors that both closed. You died. Different reasons, same ending. Your timelines have reached their ends.”
Zanka san laugh was short and ugly. “Ended. Right...”
“Unless,” Sura Zal continued, unhurried, “you take another, prolong your lifeline by exchanging places its not all for nil obviously...”
He lifted a hand. Two images shimmered in the white like heat on tar.
“Earth 2,” he said to Zanka kun. “The Jabber here is alive. He’s in the hospital right now. He’s hurt, he’s recovering, but he’s breathing. You would wake in that body, with that life, a new life of your making You can change things and you can be different. But... you cannot tell anyone you swapped. Not a word. If you do, the door seals.”
Zanka kun didn’t breathe. He saw the balcony that never was. The sanctuary that could have ben. The sound of Jabber’s laugh without glass between them. His whole body leaned forward before his mind did.
“Earth 1,” Sura Zal said to Zanka san, turning. “Follo is still here hopeful and waiting, He never left the country in this timeline. At seventeen he stopped asking you out, and spent the next ten years being your friend instead. He’s waitingwon’t be forever. But he’s still in your city and in thus world he would still answer your calls.”
Zanka san went still. Follo walking out had been the only moment that ever made him feel small. The idea of a world where Follo hadn’t ...where he was still within reach, still watching hit like gravity.
“I’ve given you a seconf chance but it comes with rules,” Sura Zal said. Softer now. “Once you wake, you stay in your new life accepting the people it comes with so there’s no going back. No letters no confessions. You inherit the life, the people, the damage, and the chance. You can choose to repair or you can ruin it’s all up to you as you still have your free will but you cannot cross back.”
Silence stretched.
Zanka kun thought back on his life without Jabber back on that quiet that ate him. He thought of another chance to hear that laugh to see those kind eyes and the warmth his arms had provided. His hands were shaking again, but not from cold.
Zanka san thought of Follo’s face in the ER earlier on the disappointment the unspoken goodbye. The words he left him. He thought of a world where he could try again before that door closed shutting that opportunity on them again. His jaw clenched.
They looked at each other. Eleven years of different choices in the same skin.
Zanka kuns voice came out thin. “Yes.”
Zanka sans came out like a curse. “Fine.”
Sura Zal’s smile softened. Not kind. Just final. “Then live.”
The white folded in.
Fluorescent lights. Beeping machines. The smell of antiseptic.
On Earth 1, a hospital bed. A nurse calling his name. Zanka san’s eyes opened to a ceiling he didn’t recognize, to a body that wasn’t his, to a world where Follo’s unrequited love was waiting outside the door.
On Earth 2, a hospital bed. Monitors. A doctor saying “Mr. Zanka?” Zanka kun’s eyes opened to IV lines, to a stranger’s memories in his head, to a world where Jabber was alive in another room a few feet away.
Two men. Two lives. One chance each.