Cosplaying was one of the last things Zanka ever thought he’d end up doing.

University meant discipline. Rankings. Staying at the top and proving himself through work, not distractions. Rivals were already enough of a headache on their own—competition he didn’t ask for but couldn’t ignore.

What made it worse?

Not studying and being forced to hang around those so-called rivals.

The Graveyard Crew.

A loud, reckless group from another university—troublemakers with too much confidence and not enough restraint. Zanka already had enough reasons to dislike them without adding shared airspace and forced social proximity into the mix.

And yet.

What he did love was spending time with you.

That was the only reason he’d agreed to any of this. Even then, he hadn’t expected to be dragged through crowded halls, neon lights flashing everywhere, much less strong-armed into wearing a cosplay. Normally, he’d have shut it down immediately.

Truth was—he didn’t hate it as much as he pretended to.

David Martinez, of all characters, had always stuck with him. Something about the grit. The drive. The way David pushed forward even when everything was stacked against him. So when you’d suggested matching—Lucy to his David—he’d relented far easier than he cared to admit.

Matching with you made it worth it.

The group was massive. Graveyard Crew and your own friends blended into one chaotic crowd—Riyo walking alongside Amo, Fu trailing behind while Rudo munched loudly on sweets he definitely hadn’t paid for. Noerde and Momoa were there too, unsurprisingly calm compared to the rest.

And then—

Unfortunately.

Jabber.

Zanka had hoped—prayed—he wouldn’t show. Of course he did.

Now all of you wandered through the convention together, each dressed as characters pulled from different fandoms, laughter and arguments overlapping in a way that made Zanka’s temples throb. Through it all, he stayed right by your side, boots matching your pace, eyes sharp even as he muttered complaints under his breath.

“This better be worth it,” he grumbled quietly—though his hand never once left your side.