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No one knows who came up with the idea, but Game Night would take place in alternating rooms. And today it just so happened to be in Zanka’s, reluctant as he was.
And it took every fiber of Follo's being to keep his excitement buried deep deep down.
His feelings for Zanka were merely casual, despite his initial crush on him as he witnessed his stellar performance in the North Ward just a measly two years ago. An inspiring display of unshakeable grit that influenced him into a new chapter of his life.
One could label it as deep admiration. Cause it wasn't like he'd think about him every minute of every hour. Just a few times throughout the day. Like at breakfast, or when he brushed his teeth.
And it wasn't like he'd keep mental records of what he adored about him. Like how clever he was in combat, or how he spoke with a distinct cadence, or how he always tried to hide his brief moments of laughter, cheeks always ending up slightly coated in pink.
…
Ok, so maybe he'd been crushing harder than he thought.
Throughout the night, Follo would continue to sneak brisk glances at him and maybe “accidently” brush his hand with his when reaching for a card. All little things, insignificant enough to go unnoticed.
Because the only time he'd get to be near him was either on a job, in the car, and perhaps in passing in the halls. So Follo was going to take full advantage of the opportunity he was given, despite the involvement of others.
The game ended with Guita as its victor. To celebrate, she dashed off out of the room to find the candy Rudo had told her about, in which he quickly tagged along, including Amo. Everyone else packed up their items and headed out to their own rooms with Follo and Riyo being the last ones out, right after helping Zanka tidy his room back up after Hurricane Guita struck.
But before Follo made it out the door, Riyo stopped in her tracks, turned around and asked, “Hey Zanka, did Follo ever get the chance to tell you about his new vital instrument yet?”
Follo winced at the question.
Riyo was quite possibly the worst individual that could have noticed.
“No," Zanka turned to respond, having just put away the last misplaced item."Haven't seen it yet.”
“Oh, no way! He’s been wanting to let you have a look at it. Follo show him, show him,” she nudged.
Follo couldn't deny that statement. He has been wanting him to take a look at his vital instrument for awhile now, just never found the right time to ask. Maybe this was a good thing. He'd be able to gain some sharp insight on being a giver. That, and he’d get to hear him talk. And he’d also get to stare at him more. And …
Ugh.
He could already feel the butterflies make their debut, having to rein them in before it got any worse.
Follo shrugged awkwardly. “Err,, I mean…”
Zanka sighed with a nod, “Yeah, sure, why not?” He looked at the clock behind him. “I've got time.”
Follo fully expected a no. Simply because it was getting late and he knew Zanka liked to keep a tight schedule.
“Really?” Follo said, almost intrigued at the unexpected response.
“Awesome!” Riyo exclaimed, elbow resting on the doorframe and pointing to Follo. “I’ve been trying to tell him it's one of the coolest ones I've seen but he won't believe me… He’ll probably believe you, though.” When she finished speaking she glanced at Follo who wore an apprehensive smile.
“I, on the other hand, am gonna head back to my room,” she gestured to her hair, “Y'know, hair care and all.”
They watched her leave as she waved goodbye with a self satisfied smile on her face, and a suspicious pep in her step.
They turned to each other with shared bemusement. And then Follo realized she left him all alone with Zanka.
Follo was perfectly fine with the opportunity he was given previously but maybe this was too much. No Guita to wreak havoc, no Rudo to start accusing Riyo of cheating. No one to interrupt them.. in this.. private .. room.
Wait a second. He quickly crumpled up the rushing nonsense from his head and threw it all into the heaping pile of garbage on the outskirts of town. He already made it a note in his mind that Zanka had better things to do than to trouble himself with liking anyone. He knows from experience that having a crush is far too distracting.
To keep his foolish thoughts in check, he decided to keep the door open slightly more than just a crack so it was somewhat less private, and redirected his mind to thoughts pertaining to the recent event of becoming a giver.
They sat at the edge of the bed as Follo handed him Alan.
“So what happens, to no one’s surprise, is that it grows significantly in size. But the unusual part is that its main focus is actually the shield; The more it tanks, the more power it delivers. Though, the only downside is that once I release it, I have to build it back up from scratch.”
“Hey, whaddya know? Riyo was right, that is mad cool,” sounding genuinely interested.
“Yea .. it is,” Follo looked down at his feet.
Even after becoming who he'd longed to be, the past belittlements still clung onto him. Still unable to completely shake the feeling of not quite being enough.
Zanka noticed the obvious look of dismay right away. “Alright, spit it out.”
Follo bit the inside of his mouth. “But it just seems so… one-off? Like what if that final blow doesn’t finish the enemy? Then the cycle just starts again and I have to wait around till it's back to a hundred percent. And what if the trash beast is smart enough to realize it shouldn't attack?”
"Figure it out.”
It was blunt, but it snapped Follo back into a steadier thought process.
“As a giver, it would be dumb to think any fight would be a walk in the park. And the challenges you'll face ain't usually something you can really fully prepare for. You just have to trust that prior experience will allow ya to make the necessary changes that'll help ya succeed. That's also what trainin' is for."
"And,” He handed Alan back to him, “Defense is more than just waitin' around. It ain't a feat you should be brushin' off. 'ts not everyday you see someone with an instrument that can do that. I'd say the offense part of its kit is just the cherry on top.”
Follo averted his gaze back to his feet. He almost felt embarrassed for needing someone else, Zanka of all people, to remind him that he should be grateful.
Zanka’s volume lowered, “It would be a waste of time to undervalue your instrument so soon when ya haven't even decided what it’s fully capable of. Hell, even I'm still figuring things out about mine each day. Worryin' is only gonna slow ya down so don't waste your time on it.”
Follo couldn't help but notice the gentler tone of voice. But he couldn't linger on the observation for long, so as to not put a bigger hole in the flow of conversation.
“Yeah, you're right. And don't get me wrong, I've never been more relieved now that I'm a giver. I mean, it was the main reason why I even joined the cleaners. I just get too comfortable comparing myself to my own ideal version of me. I– Thanks.. for anchoring me down.”
“No worries,” Zanka said, sitting back, resting in his hands. The mattress creaked from the weight shift.
A pause settled in, and Follo knew if it went on any longer, the crumpled thoughts he was so sure he got rid of would find their way back.
“And actually,” breaking the silence, “I don't know if I ever told you this but you were also a reason. Y'know that insane trash beast out there in the North Ward a couple years ago? I saw the whole thing. I saw you, and how cool you looked and it.. it made me realize I couldn't keep living in the cycle I was stuck in back then.”
“No kiddin’?” He almost didn't believe it.
Follo hoped that maybe if he just continued to fill the silence, his brain would take the hint and wash away all the nonsense.
“Oh absolutely. After I joined I remember I couldn't help but take notice of you- Like the way you fight and the way you handle your instrument with such refined movement, not to mention all your hard work and continuous persistence really… it's always great to see someone so passionate about what they do.”
Zanka knuckled him in the shoulder, a pink hue crossing his cheeks, “Alright let's ease up on the charm.”
Follo was stupid. How could he possibly think filling the silence with sudden praise would help his cause.
He caught sight of the rosey color. A typical response to being complimented. Follo always thought it was endearing.
And he may have gotten swept up in it.
“And you’re always easy to spot in a crowd.” He found himself accidently wandering to his eyes. Eyes that seemed to pull him in like a magnet. A color so deep it temporarily caused a glitch in Follo’s brain.
“I hope you know blue really is your color. August really nailed down your uniform perfectly it's crazy how good it makes you look, I should be thanking him for…” his voice trailed off.
…
Oops. Somehow a flip switched and his thoughts were being spoken aloud. Follo feels like he's said too much. That, and the fact that he doesn't remember when his hand ended up on his … thigh. Shit.
Zanka, whose face was now crimson, put his hand on Follo’s shoulder to make some distance.
He recoiled his hand sharply, mortified, “Sorry, I didn't uh-”
“Follo…” It was almost a laugh. “Are you hittin' on me? Is that what this is?”
Silence polluted the room.
Follo could feel the rhythm of his own heartbeat falter as it sent blood rushing to his face. It was almost funny how fast it happened while he tried to dodge the gaze of the other boys’ eyes.
Zanka raised his brows and tucked his head waiting for an answer, hand still on his shoulder.
Luckily Follo had an easy answer to a tough question though. Flee. And he’d better make it fast before he completely melts into the floor.
Swiftly standing up and checking his fake watch he says, “Wow would you look at the time, better get going! Night!”
He made his way to the door that he thankfully left open a crack but was suddenly startled by the sound of it shutting. He looked to his right, where he caught sight of an all too familiar blue stick. He then fully turned around and found Zanka, Assistaff in hand.
“Nah. You don't get to just leave.”
Zanka redirected Assistaff to point towards Follo. He felt his temperature rise and reached a hand up to cover a cheek in a poor attempt to hide it.
“You reaally ain't subtle,” he said flatly, finally setting Assistaff down.
Riyo what have you done.
Follo still couldn't get the courage to look at him directly. He didn’t wanna see the expression on Zanka’s face. Cause if it turned out to be any form of distaste, he himself might just have to take a solo trip into No Man's Land.
“Clearly,” he muttered.
“So you were hittin' on me?”
He flinched at the repeated question.
“No.- I mean– yes. Um… maybe? By accident?”
Follo kept wishing he was anywhere else but here. His eyes kept darting around the room desperately looking for somewhere to fix on but eventually ended up glancing back at Zanka… Who was accompanied by a cheeky smile.
“Quite the tragic accident.”
Follo could only continue to stare dumbly. It was the only way he could prevent anything else stupid from slipping out, he's already red enough as it is.
Zanka sighed with a faux look of unwillingness. He lifted a fist to start counting his fingers as they followed a list, “Alright. My turn.”
???
He began to walk forwards. “My two favorite qualities about ya are yer determination and sense of purpose. I like lookin' at yer handsome face. You're almost too charming when it comes to talkin' to people on the job-”
The amount of emotions Follo went through within the span of a second was absurd.
Follo interjected with a stammer, “Wait wait wait you can't do that,” shielding his face from any more incoming confessions.
“What? Is surprise flattery your thing? No fair. Though, guess it makes sense, bein' a former supporter and all.”
He kept walking closer, with a peculiar look in his eye. It made Follo's knees weak. He eventually ended up sliding down the door, resting his face in his hands, hoping to wake up from this bizarre dream.
He couldn't see but he could feel Zanka staring down at him.
“Whatsa matter?”
It took a few seconds for Follo to respond.
“You,” he said through muffled hands.
Zanka crouched down to remove Follo's hands from his face. Then flicked his forehead.
“Ow- what the hell?” he rubbed at the spot of impact. Well, now he knows he's not dreaming. And he can practically count the number of lashes on Zanka's eyelids. He felt his face heating up again, felt the thoughts uncrumple. It put him in a daze.
Zanka tilted his neck into his hand.
“I wasn't lyin' by the way.”
Follo tried to recite the words Zanka had spoken just a minute ago. Flushing more when they registered in his mind.
“You think I'm charming?”
Zanka brought his fingers in position to flick his forehead again as a warning. “Please don’t make me repeat it,” he joked.
Follo didn't know what to say next. He just found himself dancing around the fine features of Zanka's face.
“I also think ya like starin' at me.”
Another callout to Follo's unsubtlety.
Zanka moved his gaze downwards to find Follo's hand and interlaced it with his. The curl of each finger enough to shift the tempo of Follo's pulse. “Don't be gettin’ all shy on me now. It's not like I mind it.”
His tone flipped. Grip just slightly tightening against Follo's hand.
"In fact I'm rather... fond of it."
A coy smile curved at Zanka's lips, voice barely above a whisper, “Like... how it looks like you wanna kiss me.”
Oh dear. Follo was in trouble.
Zanka then suddenly released his hand, backed up and climbed onto the bed standing up, “So yer gonna have to catch me if ya want to.” He readied himself to escape from either side, emitting a lighter energy.
A blank stare crossed Follo's face as his heart continued to pound, trying to adjust to the change in atmosphere.
“...You want me to chase you?”
Zanka altered his weight back and forth, mattress squeaking.
"Not unless I misread you."
He got him there. Follo could almost laugh at the relatively comical request. It was silly for Zanka. Was this some sort of setup to a prank? No. That's not Zanka's style.
"How 'bout it?" Zanka said. "Tempted?"
Follo felt the heat rise again. Yea. He was.
Follo doesn't remember Zanka’s room being this big. How he hasn’t managed to catch him yet. Thinking he’d just won but Zanka easily out-maneuvering him. He made up a piss-poor excuse for himself, blaming his inadequate understanding of the layout of the room, and that the floor was slippery. Maybe Zanka actually was playing some sort of weird prank on him.
It finally came to an end though as Zanka tried to lunge back onto the bed, a loose blanket causing him to lose his footing. This setback for Zanka secured Follo his victory.
He reached out and firmly grabbed hold of his waist, flipped him a whole one-eighty and pinned him down at the wrists. Playful snickers escaped in between the actions. Zanka trying to break free, who couldn't. Although he wasn't really trying to.
Follo hovered over him, catching his breath. He hadn't really registered where he was until he opened his eyes, immediately being met with blue. That same magnetic blue, but this time carrying a bit more danger.
“Follo,” Zanka said, twitching his wrists.
“What- oh.” Almost like a reflex, Follo loosened his grip and shifted back onto his heels. “Sorry.. you alright?”
“Damn well it looks like ya won!”
Follo somehow forgot what started this entire ordeal in the first place. He relocated his gaze back to the full picture. Zanka, still laying flat with his arms hanging above his head, staring at the ceiling. Grayish button-up following the rise and fall of his labored breathing. A faint dew glazing his face.
Follo let out a nervous chuckle before breathing out an, “Oh… right.”
A couple seconds go by.
And then a couple more.
And more.
Follo couldn't bring himself to make a move. Any move.
Zanka lifts his head up and is met with a rose colored Follo yet again. When he realizes he's still there he plops back down, a snarky smile promptly following.
Follo managed to open his mouth, “I feel like-”
“We don't have all night...”
“Well it's just-”
“Time's a tickin'.”
“But-”
“What exactly are you waitin’ for?”
Pause.
For some reason, a small seed of confidence sprouted inside of Follo. “Y’know you're awfully persistent.”
“Hey, I’m the one who lost. Losers don't get the prize. I'm just simply playin' by the rules.”
“So why do I get the feeling that you want to break them?” An unusually bold play. Follo raised an eyebrow with an unsteady grin growing on his face.
Zanka lifted himself to his elbows, pondering a response.
“Maybe I do,” now fully sitting upright, leaning in just a bit closer.
Follo hesitated at his next reply.
Pointing an accusatory finger at him, “Then prove it.”
“Alright.” He raised a hand and put all five fingertips to Follo’s chest. “I will.”
And guided him back towards the headboard.
Follo's brain buffered as he watched Zanka’s hands steadily travel down to make their way underneath his shirt. Anticipation causing his breathing to hitch. Butterflies making a fervent return as the base of his shirt slightly lifted, allowing for Zanka's hands to enter.
Zanka began to trace. An airy touch gliding over his hip bone.. his ribs.. his collarbone.
He repeated. Until his whole palms were flush against Follo's skin, moving up and down his entire torso, in a rather caressing manner.
Follo was at a loss for words to say the least.
Zanka studied the look on Follo’s face, a cunning grin appearing at the corners of his eyes.
Zanka retreated his hands and reached for Follos’, leading them to the first button of his button-up.
“Go ahead,” he signaled.
And so Follo moved at a wary pace, the first button, slipping it free. And then the second, and then the third. The surface of Zanka’s figure appearing as each button was undone. Until the last completely parted the shirt open, letting it fall easily over his sides.
Follo was undressing his crush. Though barely. In its purest form. But it didn't matter. He was undressing Zanka, and he's the one who gave him the invitation. The realization hit him like a truck driven by a certain Akuta member. Follo shifted his gaze back to the other boys’ eyes, wanting him to choose his next move for him, uncertain of which path was the right move.
And without breaking eye contact, Zanka took Follo’s hand again and this time guided it to his heartbeat, fabric no longer preventing the skin to skin contact. His expression softening.
“This. Is your fault,” he spoke gently, heartbeat pulsating against Follo's palm.
Oh. So this is what a once in a lifetime view looks like. But Follo was then momentarily taken aback by the accusation, a soft puzzled look dressing his face. How out of character for Zanka to blame someone else.
As soon as he figured out that the sick puppy look was nothing but a ploy, Zanka took the hand from his own hammering heartbeat and placed it to his lips, gifting Follo a gentle peck to the knuckles.
Follo let out the tiniest of gasps and forced his focus to the wall.
“Hey,” it almost sounded disappointed. “Remember how I said I liked when you stare.”
Follo cautiously averted his eyes back, witnessing Zanka leave a trail of kisses along his arm, starting at his wrist. He heard each peck as he continued the path to his collarbone and neck, tugging his collar out of the way to make contact with his skin.
Follo could feel the fluttering sensation attempt its way into other territories, making him squirm.
“Zanka- he breathed in.
He felt a wet sensation begin at the base of his neck, a line of saliva ending its journey at the corner of his mouth. At the same time, Zanka found himself fully in his lap, waist to waist, bracketing the side of Follo's lower half.
That alone was enough for the butterflies to finally burst free from his center and make their way into every crevice that existed within him.
Zanka pulled back inches from his face and sandwiched Follo's head in between his palms gently.
“Relax,” he whispered, setting an example.
“Sorry.”
“Ya don't have to apologize. Just.. loosen up.”
“...”
“I'm going to kiss you now, okay?”
Follo grabbed at the bedsheet.
“Okay.”
Zanka's hands slid from the sides of Follo’s temples to cup his cheeks, letting his thumb trace along his bottom lip. And Follo found his hands leaving the bedsheet to timidly curl around his waist.
The gap between them shortly closed as Zanka craned Follo’s chin upwards.
Follo let himself fall into the curvature of Zanka's hand, allowing him to carefully adjust the angle of his nose. His runaway pulse easing into stillness.
The moment was held in absolute unison, neither of them in any hurry to pull away.
But as cleaners, they both know that oxygen is rather important.
Zanka let himself deepen, giving Follo his pulse back, before mutually separating.
Follo doesn't know how he's ever going to repay Riyo.
Fervid eyes glared at one another. They didn't have to share a single word to know they were on the same page.
Follo removed his hands from Zanka’s waist to reach the base of his neck to pull him back in. And Zanka gladly let it happen.
Their noses slightly bonked before giggling into a more slovenly kiss.
Follo doesn't think he's ever been this hungry.
A satiable appetite only to be satisfied by the boy currently sneaking his tongue past his teeth, and fidgeting with his drawstring.
Follo transitioned to Zanka’s jaw as he slid the sleeves of the un-buttoned shirt off, revealing his full figure now, including the narrowing shape of his midsection. He liked it. A lot. In a way, he'd already seen it silhouetted by his uniform, but now it was entirely on display.
Zanka silently surveyed for a reaction, similarly to watching someone open a gift one knows they'd like.
His response was to take his palms to his waist again and outline the shape of it, which compelled a small laugh out of Zanka, exposing it as a sensitive area.
Cute.
Follo made sure to take note of that.
“Don't get no ideas,” Zanka said, reflexively grabbing at Follo's wrists.
“Then don't tempt me,” Follo said as he broke free from the flimsy grasp.
Their faces collided once again. Messier. Where saliva would sometimes leave its designated owner.
Follo moved his arms to grab at Zanka’s shoulder blades, to occasionally twirl his fingers around in his hair, creating shivers that ran down Zanka's spine.
Zanka parted away again for a brief moment.
“Off.” He tugged at Follo's shirt.
And so he did as he was told. Follo hazily reached for the hem and pulled it over his head, tossing it onto the floor. He could see Zanka flush even more, even though he tried to hide it, and Follo sheepishly lightened at the thought of him being the cause.
Zanka had to admire the frame in front of him, typically covered by baggier clothes. He observed the deep rise and fall of the other boy’s breath before he began to trace a line like before, only this time without any caution. He followed a zigzag pattern from left to right starting at the hip bone making his way to the collarbone, like an artist putting care into their masterpiece.
Follo hummed at the newly familiar contact, watching him draw on the heated canvas.
He loved the way Zanka handled his touches, similarly to how he'd handle his instrument. Tenderly. Affectionately. Taking its feelings into consideration, regardless if it had any or not.
As Zanka finished his work, he took his brush and thumbed at the corners of Follo’s mouth to reopen. Follo grinned as he reeled him in again… but was caught off guard by the sudden deepening of his hips.
Fuck
The notion fueled a particular growing fire down south.
Zanka paused and sat back a couple inches from Follo's face with a shameful red blooming onto his cheeks. “That okay?”
Follo already knew his answer, and despite his best efforts to mask it, he thinks Zanka knew too.
He worried his lip.
“yes.”
Zanka moved in closer as if to hear him better. “Yes what?”
“It's okay.. to..” He didn't finish his sentence. Rather, he found his hands wandering back to Zanka, puppeteering him in hopes he would understand to follow along.
Zanka thumbed over Follo's chin to wipe the excess saliva off, and stamped a kiss of full understanding to his forehead.
What happens now is not his fault.
Noise before now was relatively quiet. But it wasn’t long before a soft moan or two could be heard between them.
Tension so clearly obvious beneath the fabric of their pants as the friction built.
Zanka fidgeted with the drawstring on Follo's pants again, untying the knot, and carefully finding his way to play at the hem of his boxers. Teasing at the notion.
It left Follo restless. Zanka covering the surface of everywhere but.
Follo tugged considerately at one of Zanka’s earrings, pulling him to ask, “What are you doing?”
“Doesn’ it feel good?”
“You. Are. A. Jerk,” he said through uneven breaths.
“Ya want me to stop?”
Follo rolled his eyes before covering them with his elbow. “...no.”
“Can you jus-”
His unfinished request was interrupted by a knock at the door, a voice coming from behind it, “Hey Zanka, have you seen Follo anywhere?”
Zanka's body reacted faster than light as he shoved the heel of his free hand into Follo's face, shutting his mouth.
It was Enjin.
“Semiu had a question for him about his vital instrument and thought it would be better to ask in person. She couldn't find him in his room, though.”
They exchanged looks at each other, a joint panic flickering in both their eyes. Zanka more so.
“He’s…” Zanka tried to rattle his brain for an answer.
“Uh…”
But it was pretty difficult for him to think properly.
And Follo certainly wasn't helping his cause looking all hot and bothered.
“Er.. I dunno. Haven't seen him.” He aimed for a natural tone but missed the mark entirely by probably at least a light year.
Enjin couldn't even figure out what he said, still standing outside the door.
“What?” he asked, handing him a redo.
Follo held his laugh beneath Zanka's hand, making every effort not to make a peep.
Zanka shot him a flustered glare before clearing his throat.
“I'm not sure where Follo is. I have not seen him around.” And if not for the robotone, it might've just been believable.
…
“Bummer. Well if you see him, tell him it's urgent. She said it's related to a question the boss asked while in the infirmary. Something about gloves?”
“Will do.”
Enjin walked away, the scraping of his slippers against the floor slowly fading.
They held their positions till the coast was clear.
Zanka felt Follo drag his tongue along the palm of his hand. He retreated it back and wiped it off along the blanket, appalled.
“Oh, come on. You were in my pants just a second ago.”
“Follo you don’t understand how unbearable Enjin would make my daily life if he walked in on this. A future of relentless pestering ain’t somethin’ to look forward to. I'm getting sick just thinkin’ about it.”
“You're embarrassed aren't you.”
“Hell no.”
Unconvinced, Follo pinched Zanka's nose, making Zanka swat his hand away in light annoyance.
Then a poke to his side. And a poke to his other side.
Zanka’s eyes widened in fear. “Follo, wait-”
Follo wasted no time in immobilizing him with a parade of tickles. Zanka falling to the side, powerless to fight back as he curled up in defense, too weak to pull Follo’s hands off him.
“This really all it takes for you to fold?” Follo taunted.
Zanka pleaded for clemency through strained laughter, or more accurately, cries for help.
Follo watched Zanka regain his lucidity as he pulled his hands away, Zanka wearing an intense expression of complete and utter betrayal.
Follo combatted it with his own look of condemnation.
Zanka turned his head to the side with a tch.
“I guess… Maybe I deserved that,” he said through half-gritted teeth.
Follo patted him on the head.
“Thank you.”
The air then settling between them. Sitting on the bed staring at each other, both peeved at the abrupt intermission but the atmosphere was now too different to recreate what had been taking place.
Zanka got off the bed, picking up Follo’s shirt and tossing it to him. “Ya better get outta here.”
Follo nodded. He was saddened by the early dismissal, but Gris would tear him a new one if he suddenly went missing one night just to randomly appear in the morning.
He put his shirt back on, retying the knot at his waistline, and combing his fingers through his messy hair. Tidying up any loose ends that would be a give away that he’d been, well, here.
Follo gave one last look towards Zanka, face turned away buttoning up his shirt.
He reached for the doorknob.
“Follo,”
It was quiet, though enough to catch his attention.
"Hm?"
“Just… come back tomorrow night.”