Chapter Text
Life on the ground was not glamorous. Food, clean water and other necessities were hard to come by sometimes and most places reeked of rot, mold or rust. Trash beasts were a constant threat breathing down everyone’s neck. It was not what you envisioned for yourself growing up, but over the past ten years you’ve learned how to call this place home.
Life at the HQ was not totally unpleasant though. If anything, you enjoyed the company of most of your fellow Cleaners. This place gave you purpose, a reason to live a life you once thought was not worth living. Though you still saw your existence in shades of gray, you had learned to smile again - to laugh at Zanka’s face when you teased him for blushing when being praised, or gossip with Ryio about someone’s awful haircut. You even complained to Semiu sometimes about the latest drunk prick who thought hitting on you at the bar was a good idea. Yes, the ground was a dump, but you were grateful to have found a semblance of normalcy. And above all else you were grateful for the person who made this all possible. Enjin. Though you were wrestling with your demons more often than you cared to admit, the thought of him shone like the light at the end of a dark, everlasting tunnel.
The slight shadow of a smile appeared on your face as you brought a shabby looking mug to your lips, enjoying an awful beer, alone, in the dining room of the Cleaner’s HQ. That man with his golden eyes and devilish smile was the reason you were not yet dust in the ground. Your team leader, your savior, your old friend.
“Someone’s in a good mood.” Enjin’s sarcastic voice rang from behind you. Of course, he’d spawn right next to you the moment you started thinking about him. The mechanism behind his deadly accurate intuition still eluded you. “Did the job not go well?”
“Better than I anticipated. Didn’t get any broken bones this time, trash beast’s in shambles, and nobody died. I’d call that a success. Care to join me?” You looked up to the tall man next to you, holding a mug in front of him. He took it, smelled the liquid and smirked.
“Oh, aren’t you a sweetheart? Were you waiting for me with a mug of shitty whiskey? You know me so well. I’m flattered.” Enjin sat down, taking a big gulp. He took a cigarette out of his pack and expertly lit it, taking a big drag out of it with a satisfied sigh.
“I never understood how you can drink that shit. Also, please go smoke somewhere else. The air stinks enough without it.” You looked back at your mug and took another big gulp. Enjin laughed, a look of fake hurt on his face.
“Playing hot and cold again? You welcome me with my favorite drink, then insult it and send me away. Is that how you treat all your friends?”
Banter like that was what you enjoyed the most during uneventful days. Your back-and-forth bicker was something dear to your heart. It was also one of the reasons why there were an awful lot of rumors about you two circulating behind hushed voices.
The fact that you and Enjin were close was not a secret. You have known each other for the past ten years and practically grew up into somewhat functioning adults together. You looked up to him and he valued you as a friend and a colleague. You were the first member of team Akuta and the “big sis” of the group as one of its older members. Even though it seemed bothersome at first, you enjoyed taking care of the two youngsters of the team, not that you’d ever admit that out loud. So, the fact that your banter with Enjin sometimes evolved into something a bit flirtier and your overall closeness, did not come as a surprise to many.
“Oh, cry me a river. Who says you’re my friend?” A wide smirk spread across your face. You glanced at the golden-eyed man next to you to see the same wide smirk spreading on his face as well.
“What? You want to be more?” He glanced back, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes.
“In your dreams umbrella boy!” You huffed, taking another sip of your shitty beer. Little did you know how close to the truth you actually were. Enjin laughed, uncharacteristically shying away for a moment. You have plagued his dreams on numerous occasions - the image of you sprawled below him and the sound of your sweet whimpers staying with him even after waking up, just as vivid as they were when he was asleep. He coughed a bit, embarrassed, then took another drag of his cigarette.
“What’s up with you drinking that piss beer then? You look like a 50-year-old alcoholic drinking alone at the bar, drowning their sorrows in booze.” He looked back at you analyzing your reaction. It did not take long for realization to hit him. “Oh, it’s today.”
“Yeah, it’s that time again. Don’t mind me, just my yearly blues.” Without even noticing, your hand started stroking your bracelet, your jinki, and the only thing you still had to remind you of where you came from. His hand instinctively grabbed yours, squeezing it gently.
“Cel, I’ve said it before and I will repeat it for as many times as I have to. What happened back then is not your fault. You were a kid.” Part of you wanted to believe him, but today guilt ate at you more than it normally did. Though your life slowly regained some sort of meaning in the past years, on the anniversary of that day, you couldn’t help but feel like maybe you should have died too.
“This guilt, this feeling of shame, they never go away, Enjin. They are just more manageable on other days, that’s all.” You ripped your hand from under his, a bit more forcefully than you should have perhaps, as you slumped in your seat. “Thank you, but it will go away eventually like it usually does.”
“You know that's not what this is about Cel. I worry about you. If you could just let me…” Enjin’s pleas were making your head spin. As soon as you closed your eyes, images from your past were clouding your brain again. The tase of ash and thick smoke as vivid in your mind as ten years ago. You frowned. Nothing felt right, nothing helped, so the only thing you could think of was how to get drunk faster and forget everything.
“Enjin stop. Please. I don’t need a therapist; I need a friend. Maybe I should give that shitty whiskey a try again. Should work better than … this.” Raising your now empty mug you looked at Enjin with pleading eyes. He was quick to get the message, although visibly uncomfortable to do as told.
“Fine, but I won't hold your hair while you puke again like I did last time.” Although it hurt to see how much guilt you still carried after all these years, he was determined to be by your side through it all, if only to make sure you did not drink yourself to death.
He wished he could take your pain away, to hold you and tell you that you are worth so much more than you think you are. That your life is valuable and you being still here was a blessing. That even though life has been cruel to you, he couldn’t’ live his without you in it. Words could not describe how much he loved you and how much he wished he could make it all go away and maybe, just maybe, he could help you heal if only you’d let him.
He did not know exactly when it started, but somewhere along the way he realized he saw you as more than a teammate, and so much more than just a friend. It had started small. He noticed how your long, jet-black hair shone after you had just washed it, and how it deliciously smelled like vanilla and peaches, a welcome scent in the junk they called air on the ground. The way your smile lit up your entire face, two cute dimples forming on each cheek. How your lilac eyes twinkled with mischief whenever you would play-flirt during one of your renowned back-and-forths, or how they darkened with annoyance when his teasing went a little bit too far. And slowly, he noticed how other more sinful thoughts crept in. Like how well the shorts of your uniform hugged your perfectly toned ass or how swollen and kissable your lips looked after you bit them in frustration when he beat you during one of your training sessions. But he was a coward. A man who could only admire you from a distance only to have you in his dreams, too afraid to ruin what he had for what he could have.
“I never asked you to take care of me.” Your voice came as a much-needed interruption from the bitter-sweet thoughts of how he wanted, but could not have you.
“Please, if not for me, who knows what ditch you’d end up in. Or who you’d share it with. Better the devil you know.” Taking a resigned drag from his now almost finished cigarette, he signaled for 2 more mugs of whiskey. “Then it’s settled, we get piss drunk together again. I’ll drink you under the table, pipsqueak.”
A bitter smile appeared on your face. You were eternally grateful for his company during times like this. Toxic as your way of coping might have been, Enjin never judged or lectured you. He was just there as your shoulder to cry on, a light in the overwhelming darkness of your past.
“Enjin?” He extinguished the sad remnants of his cigarette in a nearby ashtray and turned to face you, a warm feeling instantly embracing you as his eyes, holding an understanding only you two shared, met yours.
“Hmm?” His soft, reassuring hum wrapped around you like a soft blanket on a cold night.
“Thank you.” He didn’t respond. Just smiled and placed a freshly refilled mug in your hand.
You lost count of how many mugs you and Enjin downed that evening. You also lost track of time. Enjin had a way to steer the conversation in such a way that sometime throughout it, you forgot why you started drinking to begin with. From exchanging battle tactics and the latest outrageous news from the towns nearby to reminiscing about good times you shared as trainees, he had you laughing until your stomach hurt in no time.
“Oh. My. God. Like that time when we were sparring and you were outgrowing your pants by quite a bit already and they split right down the middle while you tried to put me in a chokehold. Pure, cinematic gold. I still can’t believe you wore choo-choo train underwear. ~Choo-Choo!” You were laughing so hard, almost choking on your own spit a few times before even finishing your sentence. Enjin threw a drunk frown your way and threated you with a lit cigarette.
“Oy, come on now! That’s low. We didn’t exactly have a lot of choices back then, ey? I bet yours had like rainbows and unicorns or something.” He took a shaky drag and blew the smoke your way in retaliation. Though it made you choke, you still couldn’t stop laughing.
“Thinking about my underwear Enjin? Ewww, that’s dirty even for you.” Giving him a challenging look as if daring him to come at you with a rebuttal, you emptied your mug once again.
“You make me sound like I’m some kind of pervert you sicko! It was hypothetical, ok? Hypothetical.” Seeing Enjin’s face flushed from all the drinks and slightly flustered from your teasing did something to you. It was a weird feeling somewhere between wanting to see how far you could push him and get away with it, and the desire to tell him to fuck off. It was just as intriguing as it was scary.
“For fuck’s shake, if I hear people say ~Eww Enjin likes to steal glances at girls’ underwear~ tomorrow, I will…” There were so many ways Enjin wanted to finish that sentence. Punish you? Kiss you until your brain melted and you forgot how to speak such outrageous accusations? Or perhaps shut you up in an entirely different, more intimate way altogether. The alcohol in his system did not do him any favors when trying to distinguish between reality and his own desires. Still, after clearing away some of his sinful thoughts with another drag of his cigarette, he continued in the least harmful way he could think of. “… assign you the most awful mission nobody wants. Make you beg me to send someone else instead. Beg, you hear me? Like on your knees beg.”
Yeah, beg. That was definitely something he would like to hear you do one day. For a split second, he wondered if it would sound as satisfying as it did inside his own fantasies. Would it turn him on as much as much as it did on the lonely nights he was picturing you in his bed, keeping him company? The look you gave him, told him that it would probably do so much more than that. He was down hard, obsessed, utterly and irrevocably in love with every fiber of your being and he was in trouble. He wanted to wipe that bratty smile off your face so bad, the only thing grounding him to reality being the cigarette that was almost burning his fingers, and his half empty mug of whiskey.
“Beg, ey? Someone has some nasty kinks. I thought I knew everything about you Enjin. I’m hurt” you teased. He flinched slightly and extinguished the cigarette then immediately lit another one.
“You know nothing sweetheart. You couldn’t handle it.” Enjin felt hot. He had lost track of where the conversation was going, and it had ventured into dangerous waters quicker than he could react. Putting the cigarette down, he took his coat off in the hopes of cooling down a bit, tattoos on his arms now on full display and it made you shiver.
A blush found its way to your cheeks - if they could get any redder than they already were - and you quicky tried to drink form your mug again to distract yourself, completely forgetting it was already empty. When did you start thinking of Enjin that way? Was it the time you cried yourself to sleep in his comforting arms? Or perhaps the last time he made you laugh so hard you thought you were running out of air. Or maybe it was just something that was one day there, silent, seemingly innocent but keeping you up at night. He was your safe heaven and in time the line between friendship and this blurred to the point of almost vanishing. But Enjin was perfect in every way. He was kind, caring, a charismatic leader, a strong fighter, and his smirk was to die for. The way he took care of everyone around him, how he handled everything with the utmost confidence and how he sounded slightly deranged while laughing sometimes; every little detail about him made you want to grab on to him and never let go. And the way his tattoos highlighted the most delicious parts of his body, plagued more of your stray thoughts than you wanted to admit. Yeah, Enjin was smoking hot and you were… broken. You had to tell yourself over and over again that he deserved better than you. Sure, there would be no shortage of women trying to catch his attention. He could, and absolutely would, do better than you eventually - and hurt as it may, that was a thought you had tried to get used to. Still, the alcohol in your system muffled the nasty voices, silencing your insecurities enough to wonder if you could push him just a little bit further.
“Is that a challenge, umbrella boy?” You took a peek at him to gauge his reaction and you swore you saw him shudder slightly before seeing the muscles in his forearm strain, knuckles whitening around that dammed cigarette that was meanwhile smoking itself. He looked at you with an intensity you have never seen in his eyes before, jaw slightly clenched as well.
“You want a challenge sweetheart? I have one for you. I found another kid yesterday while you were on the job. In No Man’s Land.” Finally remembering his lit cigarette again, Enjin took another drag and puffed the smoke towards the ceiling, preparing to say something he knew you wouldn’t like. “He’s a spherite.” He hated the way he just spewed this news out to you, but he had to turn the conversation back to something more serious before you noticed how your relentless teasing drove him insane.
It felt like a bucket of ice was suddenly dropped on top of your head. Your eyes went wide, your body processing the information quicker than your drunk brain could. As you felt your hands start to tremble slightly, Enjin looked at you apologetically and continued.
“The kid looks…. Troubled. I don’t know what happened to him, but since he is down here, nothing good. He needs someone to connect with, to help him settle in. I thought you could…” You felt a knot form in your throat. Another spherite, alive, here in the Cleaners HQ? This was information that would be hard to digest on any day, but on that particular day, it almost felt like too much to handle. This hit too close to home.
“No.” You whispered barely audible looking away in a panic. “Don’t make me do this.” Enjin grabbed your trebling hand, squeezing hard while caressing your palm with his thumb to calm you down.
“Hey. Hey. Look at me.” Too afraid he might see the utter state of disarray you were in; you refused to turn around. “Cel, look at me, please. I know how this makes you feel. You are torn. He reminds you of how you got here, but please just look at me.“ Sighing, defeated, you turned your head to look at Enjin. The guilty look on his face stung.
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, ok? I think it would be helpful for both of you, but this is up to you to decide. And only when you feel ready. It’s ok to take your time.” You squeezed his hand back, grateful that he recognized how uncomfortable you were, and that he did not push any further.
“Well, how’s that for a mood killer? I think we should call it a night.” Stumbling slightly due to your advanced state of ebriety, you got up from your seat and held on to the table for some much-needed support.
“That is the wisest thing you have said in a while. Let me take you to your room.” Enjin nodded, downed the remaining whiskey from his mug and shakily got up as well. It seemed he was just as drunk as you. It took him a moment to steady himself on his feet and move away from the chair.
“What can I say? I have my moments. But by the looks of it, I might have to take you to your room. Can you even stand?” Waving you off, Enjin came to your side and slid a hand around your waist, as much to support himself as it was to support you. You slid your hand around him too as you swayed together walking towards the door, earning more than a few sideway glances from some of the other Cleaners and Supporters in the room.
The walk up the stairs and to your room was done in silence. A thick tension was lingering in the air around you, something odd in your usual dynamic. The world was spinning, and the familiar feeling of drunk numbness took hold of your body. You could no longer feel your face nor your feet, walking automatically more than consciously. Still, the places you touched each other felt more alive than ever. Wrestling with both the lingering dark thoughts as well as your feelings for Enjin, you couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in his mind. Was he feeling the heavy tension as well, or was it all just in your head? Though the walk was short, it felt like an eternity and the feeling of drowning in your own emotions made it almost physically hard to breath.
You didn’t want to let Enjin go, a terrifying realization that made you consider never talking to him again, if only for a split second. But that was something you could never do. If you lost him too, you feared you would finally crumble for good. Enjin was the stings still holding your broken pieces together, had been for years, although just enough to keep you functioning but never fully mended. Losing him meant losing your last shambles of sanity.
“We’re here.” Enjin’s statement rang almost incomplete. Like there were a hundred other words to be said, but weren’t. For a moment you both stood there staring at your door but not moving, as if expecting something that was never meant to come. The fact that neither of you wanted to be the first to let go felt bitter-sweet. Using your last strands of willpower, you took the key out of your pocket and removed your hand from around Enjin. He did not move, continuing to stare at your back.
He always hesitated to leave your side on days like those. Seeing you fall apart was something only for his eyes to see and his soul to understand, the rest of the people around you having little to no idea about your past or your internal struggles. To others you were the immaculate image of the perfect Cleaner. Quick, efficient, strong and reliable. You had put up the perfect façade of this well put-together person who could not be defeated by anything. But no one knew you like Enjin did. And for this exact reason he did not want to leave your side. He knew that in trying times, he was your only comfort, the only one you trusted enough to let in on your unseen struggles.
He wished he knew how to heal you, how to make you see yourself the way he did. But he knew that healing never came easy and some people could never find a way to mend their wounds in an entire lifetime. So, he swore to be patient. Still, he desperately wished to try. To hold you and tell you all will be ok. That he would be right there next to you, waiting for as long as it took for you to be comfortable having him by your side, not as a friend, but as partner. Before he even registered his movements, Enjin leaned down on your doorframe looming over you as you struggled to open the door. With a click it opened and you turned around to thank him again and wish him goodnight, only to find your face inches from Enjin’s.
You froze, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights. This man’s eyes looked like they could see right through your soul. Your heart was hammering inside your chest to the point where it felt like it was about to jump out and sprint down the hallway. There was something magnetic about Enjin tonight and it took all your remaining strength to look away. Enjin gently grabbed your chin and moved your face back, forcing you to look at him. You felt exposed, begging the universe that if it had any love left for you in this life, the darkness of the empty hallway would cover how hard you were blushing. When you saw his face come closer, all you could do was close your eyes. Was that it? Was that the moment the floodgates would open and you would reach a point of no return? Part of you begged you to reach out and close the gap, to give into your feelings for him you tried to keep buried for so long, and the other begged for you to run away. When you felt his breath on your face, you tensed, a mixture of anticipation and utter panic swirling around in your chest.
And just as you had resigned yourself to your fate, you felt Enjin’s lips touch your forehead gently. It was over in a split second and by the time you opened your eyes in confusion, Enjin had already removed himself from your doorframe and was now standing in front of you again. The expression on his face was unreadable.
“Goodnight, Celeste. Sweet dreams. Don’t spend too much time hugging the toilet.” And with that he turned around and started walking towards his own room, agonizingly slow, as if hoping you would grab him and pull him into yours instead.
“Says the man who once called his toilet his best buddy. See you tomorrow, umbrella boy?” Enjin rose a hand in salute as he continued walking slightly slouched over, looking like he was closer to a late-night visit to his bathroom than you were to yours.
“Yeah, in the cafeteria. I’ll make my hangover cure again.” Your body involuntarily retched at just the thought of that thing. It was effective, but it tested like sun-marinated, dirty socks.
“Goodnight Enjin.“ As you slowly closed your door, you could hear a muffled ‘Goodnight, pipsqueak’.
Once the door was closed, a mix of relief and disappointment washed over you, the nagging voice in your head screaming ‘what if’ relentlessly. What if you had closed that gap? What if you grabbed his hand as he walked away and begged him to stay with you that night? You couldn’t help but wonder if by doing that, the rest of your life would have changed. For better or worse. One thing was clear, however, you would have ruined your friendship in a tangle of limbs and discarded clothes, unsure if something else could sprout out of its ashes the next morning once you sobered up.
You slid down your door, your legs finally giving out and you hugged your knees in comfort, mind spinning with all these contradicting thoughts. In moments like these you wished you were good enough. Braver. Brave enough to admit what you want and fearlessly pursue it regarding of consequences. He was about to kiss you. At least you thought he was, and the way this did not seem to bother you in the slightest, was frightening indeed.
Enjin lay in his bed facing the ceiling, eyes covered by his arm as if trying to conceal all the thoughts rampaging behind them. For some reason his messy room felt colder and more desolated than usual. He was about to kiss you. He was about to throw it all out the window and give in to his overwhelming passion, ready to burn it all down just to have a tase of your lips.
“What were you thinking, you big dumbass?!” He couldn’t help beating himself up for how he almost lost control. There was nothing he wanted more than to hold you in his arms, have your scent wrapped around him while he learned every little thing that made you tick, but not like this. Not when both your judgments were clouded by too many mugs of whiskey to count. If he ever had you, he wanted it to be when both of you were sober. “I don’t know how long I can keep doing this. I’m fucked.”