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Nijiku's couldn't cry. That's what Zanka grew up hearing the moment salty tears even dared to stream down his face. "Girls don't cry, Zanka. Don't you want to be a boy?" It tore his heart into pieces. He wasn't a girl; he'd never be one, no matter how hard his grandpa tried to make him into one.
Yet Zanka found himself lost in thought, gazing at the fireworks that never seemed to come to an end.
He stood on top of a cliff amongst a sea of trash, the stench nauseating.
He wouldn't die though, at least not from lung poisoning.
He didn't really know what led him to this point.
Maybe it was the fear that no matter how much he tried, he was still the same little girl that once faced him in the mirror.
Or maybe it was the fact that Jabber, his boyfriend, hadn't messaged him in hours after suddenly disappearing to get high with someone Zanka didn't trust.
Perhaps it was a mix of both.
He should have known better than to trust a raider.
But he also remembered what Fu had told him, and it resonated with him, making his feelings even more complicated.
"He really loves you, Zanka. I haven't seen him this happy in a while... he's just—"
Just.
There's always that "just."
"Then why is it so hard for him to fight it for me?"
Zanka spoke out loud, directly cutting off the fond memory that played repeatedly in his head.
He let out a pathetic laugh, almost amused by his own question as if it were obvious from the start.
If he could, he would rip that memory to shreds.
He still recalled how excited he was to hear the words "happy" roll off Fu's tongue, and for a split second he thought everything would be okay.
A deer in headlights he was.
His playful banter with Jabber motivated him to train harder just to impress his boyfriend for the next time they had a playful fight, staying up late at night awaiting the soft chirp of his collar, and crying himself to sleep whenever Jabber stopped being affectionate with him despite Zanka giving all he could.
He almost felt naive.
Him and Jabber hadn't even known each other for a long time, yet he let him in.
It was clear Jabber had issues; they both did.
Who was Zanka to judge?
Zanka was no angel.
Whenever Jabber offered him hallucinogen, he wouldn't say no.
It was fun being high with Jabber.
When they were high, it was like his brain shut off for a few seconds.
The best part? Jabber almost acted like he loved him.
He thought back at the last time Jabber was high; Zanka wasn't high with him.
He still remembered how Jabber's rough calloused hands felt as they caressed Zanka's cold cheek.
"You know Zanzan, you really are the best boyfriend ever."
"Pshh. Well, I try to be... do ya really think so?"
"You serious? I don't know why I was ever suicidal, I really can't live without you. I love you so much."
Jabber leaned over to Zanka, gently pressing his lips against Zanka's.
His breath reeked of weed, and something else he couldn't put his finger on.
Zanka smiled, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's neck while Jabber rested his palm on Zanka's waist.
The memory felt so distant, even if it wasn't that long ago.
He didn't know what changed, but he couldn't handle it anymore.
It hurt.
He tried his damn hardest.
"Jab, what's wrong? Talk to me?"
Jabber sat down in silence, staring at Zanka with a tired look on his face.
His eyes dull, dark circles evident beneath them.
"Jabber, baby. Ya know I love ya, n that I wouldn't judge ya if—"
"I know. You don't have to repeat it a billion fuckin' times. I told you I'm fine."
Zanka's heart sunk, an empty bottomless pit that went on forever.
"Oh. Alright, I'm sorry. I love you."
Jabber didn't respond, and Zanka didn't press him to say it back.
He gave up.
He knew Jabber was relapsing.
He knew Jabber's drug addiction had led him to sleep with strangers he didn't even remember the faces of.
And it didn't bother him too much at first because at least he would tell Zanka.
Zanka would immediately drop everything just to hold him in his arms whenever it happened, even if Jabber would ignore his pleas and return to the same person who hurt him yet again.
He was fine with it, because afterwards Jabber would swear sobriety, and fawn about how much he loved his boyfriend.
But they hadn't even gone out on a date anymore.
Whenever Zanka would ask Jabber out, make arrangements, even if it was just to play games together or fight—
Silence.
Then the next second, Jabber would text him, crossfaded off his ass again.
It was exhausting.
How could he help someone who didn't want to get better?
When he saw Jabber interacting with others while he hadn't even made the minimum effort to say hi, to explain why he suddenly disappeared the night he broke down, or why the person he let abuse him took his phone and texted petty messages towards Zanka's pleas not to go back, his heart strained.
And that led him to where he was now.
He remembered what the others told him.
"I don't even know if I can tell you to leave him. He's— he's going through a lot and maybe breaking up would be his last straw."
Would it though?
"It's really your decision, Zanka. Riyo and I already told you what we think. We never liked Jabber. We don't think this is the happiest you've been. You can't help someone who won't listen."
But why can't I?
"You barely knew him when you got together, Zanka. There's plenty of other fish in the sea. It's not worth killing yourself over."
But he wanted him.
He never wanted anything more.
And it seemed like every time things were going well for him, something bad always happened.
He thought with Jabber it'd be different.
He genuinely fell in love with him.
Jabber fell first, but Zanka fell harder.
He remembered how wide Jabber smiled when Zanka told him he was originally a girl.
"Yo! That explains the height difference."
"Ya aren't disgusted with me?"
"Nah, you play too much for real. Why would that make any of a difference? I love you for you, Zan, not what's in your pants. You're still a man to me."
He said as he lifted Zanka off his feet.
Zanka always loved how Jabber made him feel.
He wanted to hold onto those memories for as long as he could.
At first when it happened again, Jabber sleeping off with the same man that hurt him, Fu and Zanka felt like they were losing their shit.
Fu couldn't help but sigh.
At the time, he thought Zanka was right.
When he said Jabber would continue the cycle of crying and apologizing, promising sobriety, and then going back to make the same mistakes.
There was no way he wouldn't.
It already happened twice, and neither of them had heard from Jabber since the night he spiraled.
"Y-yeah... maybe we just have to give it time, but this seems like a constant now."
He wished that was what had happened.
He hadn't received a text, a call, an explanation, nothing.
He knew Jabber was a victim, and he had his own boyfriend and best friend worried sick.
The two only had each other to console; but this was bad.
It pained them both to see a person they cared about so deeply morph into something unrecognizable due to consistent abuse.
But what could they do?
Jabber was a lost cause.
Everyone told him that.
Deep down Zanka knew it was true.
He really didn't want to believe it.
But Zanka also couldn't ignore that cuts had once again begun to adorn his sides, his eyes constantly red from staying up crying, his fingers bleeding from chewing off the skin so hard, and most importantly his heart constantly aching.
"I wish that loving me was enough. Maybe that way you wouldn't have to look for happiness in temporary highs."
Zanka's once deep blue eyes had become such an ugly gray that even he couldn't recognize in the mirror.
He was shameful, a disgrace to the Nijiku clan, and most importantly a horrible boyfriend.
He made peace with that as fireworks continued to burst.
Kicking his shoes off one by one, he leaped down.
I hope you'll be okay when I'm gone.