#userzackmartin

And, to be frank, Cody wouldn’t even mind the bickering at this point. Radio silence from Zack with the heavy, awkward air compacted within the walls was beginning to suffocate Cody.

God, Cody had half the mind to start a fight just to get Zack to speak.

“Cody,” Zack spoke, making Cody flinch and almost slip a hand off the steering wheel. He didn’t use Cody’s name gently, Zack; it wasn’t a greeting of sorts, nor was it toned as the beginning of a question. It was all solid, with nothing timid about it, and Cody wasn’t sure why he was suddenly peeved about it. He wasn’t sure why he wanted Zack to be quiet, now.

Still, Cody took in a breath to ease the turmoil, because he was the mature one of the two of them. “Yeah?”

“Can we go to the gas station?”

Cody had to force his grip on the wheel to remain loose. “What?” He snapped his eyes to Zack, whom was simply lounging with his feet planted upon dash.

[… putting a thing here to shorten the excerpt 😭 …]

The anxiety always rolled in whenever it wanted. It crept up to him in the middle of class, while he was playing video games, or even while he was laying in bed about to fall asleep. Sometimes, Cody understood why he would feel it sometimes. Other times, it would make no sense.

Like right now.

For some reason, Cody felt a burning sensation of Zack glaring down at him, but, really, Zack was looking out the window, akin to a wondrous dog.

But, dogs were always unpredictable.

“Why?” asked Cody, after realizing he was quiet for a minute or two. He glanced at the screen before the wheel, and saw that the car was good on gas—Cody bit the inside of his cheek.

“I just need to grab a couple of things,” Zack answered, vaguely.

Cody’s eyebrows jumped with disbelief. “A couple of things.”

“Yup.” Zack smacked his lips, then picked at his teeth with his nails—Cody couldn’t keep down his cringing shoulders. “Said that loud and clear for ya.” Finally, Cody felt Zack’s gaze on him, and he forced his head to remain forward. “Unless you’ve learned so many foreign languages that you forgot english, I don’t see how you couldn’t understand what just came outta my mouth.”

Cody knew that statement was tongue-in-cheek, as all things were with Zack, but he sensed a severe undertone to it. Zack was poking fun at Cody’s intelligence. He always did, but Cody’d come to learn that it came from a place of envy. Zack wasn’t good at hiding jealously: it was in his face, his actions, and his jokes. Zack always grimaced whenever Cody got an A, used to push Cody around and ruin his things, and made fun of Cody for his entire life. For their entire life.

Zack was the one who made their life’s existence a competition.

Really, Cody was playing by the rules that were set by Zack.

So, he didn’t feel guilty when he told Zack, “It’s not my fault you’re too dumb to learn and comprehend things.”

Zack hesitated for a moment before retorting, “It’s not that I’m dumb, it’s just… unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary?” Cody wanted to laugh in Zack’s face. Obviously, he couldn’t, because he was driving.

And because he was the more mature one of them.

Obviously.

“How is learning other languages unnecessary? You can literally communicate with more people, get to know them better, and learn more about different cultures.” Cody smiled bitterly and shook his head. “You know, you’re really ignorant for saying—”

Zack laughed, rearranging his footing upon the dash. “Cody, chill. It’s fine that I only know english.”

“You barely know english.” Cody then glared at Zack’s shoes. “And put your feet down. If we get into a car crash—”

“You good, Codes?” asked Zack from behind, the rolling of his carry-on indicating his quick approach. He slowed next to Cody, bumping their shoulders together, an attempt to urge Cody to speak. Cody eyed him, a silent question, to which Zack replied, “You have that look in your eyes.”

“What look?”

“The heavy look,” and Zack toned it like it was common sense—Cody was sure his blank stare said otherwise. “You get this weird ass look in your eyes when you're, like, either anxious or irritated.”

“Well,” Cody huffed, “can you even blame me for being peeved when you just flirted with Bailey in front of me?”

“Oh please,” laughed Zack, his eyes darting to the ceiling. “That was hardly even flirting, man.”

“Yeah, in your book.”

“Exactly.” Zack simply smirked at the glare Cody shot at him. “You know how bad I can get,” he continued in a taunting voice. Before Cody could snip a shot, Zack then said, “But, no, I was talking about the former.”

“What, you think I’m anxious?”

“Always,” Zack teased, elbowing Cody in the ribs after letting his words sink in. “Only this time, it’s a little more than usual.”

Cody both hated and liked that Zack could see right through him, just like how he hated and liked that he could see right through Zack. It made tense conversations easier to survive, made their jokes hit harder, and made empathy stronger and harder. However, it always sucked when Cody would see the deceit in Zack’s eyes, the anger in them, the hostility he carried sometimes. It hurt when Zack was able to rip down Cody’s walls, and which bricks to hit as he had watched the wall be built—Zack knew which spots of Cody’s fortress were tender, and would poke and prod until Cody would be forced to retaliate so that the bricks wouldn’t crumble to ash.

Achingly, it was just who Zack was.

“So, what’s up?” pressed Zack, digging his fingers into the back of Cody’s head. “What’s making your head anxious?”

Maybe it was addictive; Henry supposed that would make sense, since running convalescenced his hippocampus—Zack would call him a nerd for knowing what a hippocampus was, Henry couldn’t help but linger over. Or perhaps it was a distraction; to launch himself from his brain to the ache in his weak calves, raw lungs, and nail-dented pink palms.

Zack’s calves were sturdy. Zack never coughed after he ran. Zack never clenched his fists when anxious because he never was. Not an ounce of hesitation or self-loathing was in the boy who radiated warmth, and sometimes Henry hated that about him and sometimes he adored him for it.

Sometimes, he hated Zack for being everything Henry wasn’t.

Zack’s silence was like a river’s reflection, except for his own eyes he’d be looking into, it would be Jake Hart’s. His voice—now something grating and deep—was foggy and blinding, unable to reach far, just like how Siren Hart never cared to thoroughly see Henry.

“Wait, so is James Pyramid Head or something?” Henry had asked, sitting on the floor with his back against the couch. In his hand, he held Zack’s drink; redbull, but it was definitely more of a makeshift, homemade highball than anything else.

“No, Henry,” Zack had ridiculed. “Pyramid Head is, like, a manifestation of James' sins and shit.”

“You learn that yourself, or did you look it up?” Henry still remembered the look Zack had given him.

The conversation from there was vague in his mind, but in the mix of it, something Zack had said stuck with him: “What can I say, I like learning about hot men that are dangerous and intimidating. Why do you think I like you so much?”

“But then, when we started getting older…” Zack narrowed his eyes. “I started chasing all these girls, as you know—”

“Who doesn’t,” Henry laughed.

“Oh my god, stop it,” was all Zack said to him, hushed and barely even reaching Henry’s ears.

And Henry felt his blood become molten. “Why did you call him?” It was more of a demand than a question. His jaw was beginning to grow sore, and his teeth felt as if they were sinking back into his gums from how hard he was clenching them.

Zack just rolled his eyes, appalled.

“You could’ve called anyone, Zack. Literally anyone.” Henry resisted the urge to scream, resisted the urge to fight something—which was strange, as the instincts he only got when he was Kid Danger were coming out, and that wasn’t supposed to be. Henry Hart and Kid Danger were separate entities. Never should they collide into one being. “You know that I don’t like him; you knew it would piss me off.”

“We aren’t fucking doing this right now,” Zack seethed through the walls of his teeth. “Stop it.”

“Why are you hanging out with someone who—”

“Shut the fuck up, Henry.”