Chapter Text
Zanka had spent the better part of the last three weeks trying to figure Jabber out.
Unfortunately, all he’d learned so far was that Jabber was unbelievably irritating.
One time, Jabber had laughed at him in chemistry.
Zanka remembered the exact expression he’d made when he did it.
Which was annoying.
More annoying was the fact that Zanka had memorized almost all of Jabber’s expressions by now.
It hadn’t been long since their last argument.
If you could even call it an argument.
Jabber had turned what should have been a normal debate during a chemistry lab into a complete disaster.
He still didn’t understand how someone could smile that much while being so fucking irritating.
In a way, Jabber was like a tiger; fierce.
But more often than not, he seemed like a kitten.
The two had only met three weeks ago, on their first day of college.
They shared the same dorm room.
Zanka majoring in mechanical engineering, Jabber in neuroscience.
⋆˚࿔
Zanka sat at a table alone in the college’s huge library; headphones on, gray hoodie, black jeans, worn converse, with his sleeves pushed up as he worked through another set of equations, absolutely absorbed in studying for his upcoming physics test. He worked his ass off to maintain an A- in the class, often putting in hours at a time in the library.
Zanka had been going at it relentlessly for the past thirty minutes, finally putting the pencil down when his fingers got sore. Looking up from the paper to— well, speak of the devil. He watched as Jabber approached the table, sliding off his headphones; letting them rest around his neck.
“What is it now, Jabber?” Zanka sighed, folding his arms across his chest; practically staring holes through Jabber.
Zanka frowned slightly.
Jabber wasn’t supposed to be in the library right now.
He should’ve still been finishing his neuroscience lecture for another twenty-three minutes.
Jabber chuckled and grinned at him. He wore baggy black pants that draped over chunky sneakers, the fabric shifting with each step. A dark plaid shirt was tied casually around his thin waist, breaking up the otherwise monochrome outfit.
Above it, a fitted burgundy long-sleeve top that revealed the tiniest strip of stomach. His dreads were hanging like usual, gold accents decorated them. He had semi-long nails, painted black, and silver rings on every finger.
A silver linked necklace and a lock pendant hanging from it. That was new… Jabber must have bought it recently.
Zanka had to admit, Jabber looked absurdly good. Zanka groaned. The audacity. The absolute lack of effort. And the way he made it all look flawless? Fucking infuriating.
“Huh?” Jabber feigned a defeated expression, hand clutching his chest in pain.
“You aren’t happy to see me Zan-zan? I only came to study with my best bud.” Jabber pouted, pulling out the chair directly across from Zanka and plopping himself onto it, scooching in real close; planting his elbows on the table with his hands clasped, resting his chin on his hands and smiling that super sinister smile.
The man had shown up empty handed.. just what the hell was he gonna study?
Zanka glared at Jabber, pale blue met dark fuchsia.
“Didn’t I tell you not to call me that?” Zanka spat, pulling his headphones back on even though they were no longer playing music, effectively ending the conversation.
Jabber leaned further forward, peering down at Zanka’s notebook.
“You write suuuuper neatly dude.” he hummed.
Before Zanka could react, Jabber slid the notebook a few inches toward himself, flipping the page as if it belonged to him.
“Torque” he read aloud slowly, like it fascinated him.
Zanka immediately pulled the notebook back across the table,
“Don’t touch my shit.”
Jabber tilted his head to the side, eyes widening.
“Your stuff?” he repeated softly. “Thought we were sharing.”
Zanka stared at him for a moment, jaw tightening.
“We’re not...”
Jabber hummed thoughtfully, tapping one of his silver rings against the table.
“You’re kind of mean, you know that?”
Zanka looked at him, deadpan expression.
“And you’re annoying.” He muttered, already irritated enough at the interruption.
Zanka shut the notebook with a sharp snap. Standing up abruptly, his chair scraped loudly against the floor as he grabbed the book and shoved it into his bag.
Jabber barely reacted. He was still watching him, a small grin, and his chin resting lazily on his hand like this was the most entertaining thing he’d seen all day.
“Man you sure are short fused, aren’t ya?” Jabber said.
Zanka slung his bag over his shoulder.
“Whatever,” he grumbled.
Zanka turned on his heel and left the library, in pursuit back to their dorm room.
His ears burned red from embarrassment.
Damn it. Why did Jabber always get under his skin so easily? All he could do was hope Jabber didn’t notice.
The cold air outside the library hit his face immediately.
Good.
Maybe it would clear his head.
The whole interaction had been irritating.
Annoying.
And especially distracting.
He couldn’t stand it.
⋆˚࿔
Zanka pushed open the dorm door, the familiar interior greeting him.
Immediately, he noticed the light was on in his room.
Odd.
He could’ve sworn he turned it off before he left. “The hell?” He swore under his breath.
He stepped inside the room slowly, dropping his bag beside the white desk.
Then he saw him.
Jabber was already there.
Stretched out lazily across his bed like he owned the place, one leg hanging off the side of the mattress. His shoes were kicked off somewhere near the door, and his dark hair spilled across the pillow.
He was scrolling through his phone.
Zanka froze.
“…How did you get here before me?”
Jabber didn’t even look surprised.
He glanced up slowly, that same crooked smile tugging at his mouth.
“Oh,” he said casually, locking his phone and tossing it onto the bed beside him. “Hey Zan-zan.”
Zanka’s eye twitched.
“Don’t call me that.”
Jabber sat up, resting his elbows on the pillow behind him.
“I thought you stayed in the library,” Zanka continued. “So how the hell are you here?”
Jabber shrugged lazily, lifting one hand to scratch absentmindedly at the side of his neck.
“Shortcuts.”
Zanka stared at him.
“You’re lying.”
Jabber only grinned wider.
“Maaaybe.”
The room fell quiet for a moment. He wouldn’t be surprised if Jabber literally sprinted just to arrive before him.
Zanka moved to the desk, trying to ignore him, unzipping his bag and pulling out his notebook again. He told himself he wasn’t going to let Jabber get under his skin twice in one day.
The pages fell open somewhere near the back.
Not equations.
Messy handwriting filled the page instead.
— taps rings together while thinking
— laughs louder around people he dislikes
— prefers sleeping facing the wall
— sometimes scratches neck when lying
Zanka slammed the notebook shut, a bead of sweat prickling at his hairline.
Behind him, the mattress creaked.
Footsteps.
”Um…” he laughed nervously, wiping his forehead.
Jabber leaned against the edge of the desk beside him.
Zanka could feel the warmth of him before he even looked up.
“What?” Zanka muttered without turning. He could only hope that Jabber hadn’t seen what he’d written.
Jabber tilted his head slightly, studying him.
“You got mad back there.”
“I didn’t.”
“Yeah, you did.”
Zanka finally looked up.
Jabber was already watching him.
Jabber’s eyes were brighter up close, almost glowing under the dorm light.
“You’re very easy to annoy,” Jabber said mockingly.
Zanka scoffed. His shoulders relaxed subconsciously.
“You’re very easy to hate.”
Jabber laughed obnoxiously.
But instead of stepping away, he leaned closer, resting one hand on the desk beside the notebook, the other on Zanka’s shoulder.
Had he seen it?
His rings clicked faintly against the wooden desk.
“Then why do you look at me like that?”
Zanka furrowed his brows.
“Like what?”
Jabber’s smile sharpened.
“Like you’re trying very hard not to.”
Zanka looked away immediately, heating up from his neck all the way to his ears.
Jabber noticed.
Of course he did, he always did.
“Oh,” he murmured softly.
Zanka stiffened when he felt Jabber shift closer behind him.
“What are you doing?” Zanka muttered.
Jabber leaned down slightly, peering at the side of his face.
“Your ears really do turn such a pretty shade of red.”
“Stop looking at them.”
Jabber hummed.
“Why?”
In the blink of an eye, Jabber leaned in and flicked his tongue lightly against the rim of Zanka’s ear.
Zanka short-circuited.
His hand shot out before his brain caught up, grabbing Jabber by the front of his shirt and shoving him back hard.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!”
Jabber gasped, briefly caught off guard. His cheeks dusted a light pink.
“Woah, Mr. Bad attitude.”
His smile widened.
“So that’s what it takes to get a reaction out of you.” his whole body shuddered while maintaining eye contact, his already bright eyes now glowing fuchsia.
“Zanka,” Jabber said, almost pleased. “You’re a lot more interesting when you lose your temper.”
Zanka suddenly understood something very clearly.
Living with Jabber was going to be a problem.