꒰ ᴏxʏɢᴇɴ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ you safe enjin.
enjin didn’t even remember anymore when his oxygen tank broke. hell, at some point he might went unconscious from coughing his lungs out.
but he knew when he felt your hand close to his face, and how you became firm with him when you… when you pressed your fucking mask over his mouth and nose. panic had flooded through him - more than the lack of air ever could - as he had tried to push it away.
“no. stop,” he had rasped, chocking. “what are you doin’? you’ll—“
“shut up,” you had snapped, your own breath already uneven. “just breathe.”
he hated how calm you sounded. hated it more when he realized you weren’t letting go. one hand firmly pressed the mask to his face, the other had grabbed the back of his head.
no, no, no. the mask was yours, your supply.
his lungs burned, vision swimming black at the edges. the survival instinct kicked in hard, because he wanted to live… but not like this. not at your fucking expense.
he couldn’t deal with this. please, don’t make him to.
that’s why he had tried to fight you. he was stronger after all, and should easily manage to overpower you and gave you the mask back. right?
wrong.
enjin shoved weakly at your wrist, fingers that clawed at the strap desperately. he might’ve called you an asshole for doing that to him. you were stronger and you didn’t fucking budge. if anything your grip tightened.
“don’t be stupid,” you muttered, strained. “you pass out, you die. i’m not dragging your ass out alone.”
“we’ll both die like this,” he shot back, the words muffled behind the mask you forced onto him.
you didn’t answer right away.
later he’d replay this silence over and over again, obsessively. the look in your eyes that screamed determination, and love.
“then don’t waste it,” you said quietly.
and then you pushed the mask harder against his face.
he remembered trying to count your breaths after that. he didn’t know why. maybe it was panic. maybe it was desperation. maybe it was the only way he could convince himself you were still there, still fighting.
your breaths grew shallower while his steadied. it made him fucking sick to his stomach.
he tried to angle the mask, tried to share and press it between you both, but you caught his wrist immediately.
“no,” you rasped, coughing hard enough your whole body jerked. “don’t.”
“we can make it,” he insisted, even as doubt clawed up his throat. “we just—”
“enjin.” your voice cut through him, sharp despite the weakness creeping in. “for once, listen.”
your eyes met his then. fuck, he wished they hadn’t, because there was no fear in them. you looked so stubborn, and soft in a way that made his chest ache in a way the toxins never could.
“you’re not dying here,” you said. “so breathe.”
he hated you for it. hated the way his body obeyed, dragging in oxygen while yours struggled. hated the way your hand never trembled, even as your strength clearly faded. hated that you chose him so easily.
he didn’t deserve that. he never would. you did. fuck, you deserved the world.
what he failed to realize was that he was your world.
the next thing he remembered was waking up.
clean air surrounded him, voices. light that didn’t sting his eyes. blinking tiredly he immediately looked around to search for you.
it took him a moment to realize that you weren’t there.
panic hit him before reason could. raw, ugly fear clawed at his throat. this couldn’t be. this was a joke, right?
he tore the medical mask from his face and sat up way too fast. his vision started spinning.
“hey. hey, easy!” gris grabbed his shoulders, forcing him back down. “you’re alive, idiot, don’t undo that.”
“where is she?” his voice came out in frantic gasps. “where is—”
“she’s alive.”
everything narrowed down to these words.
“what?”
“barely, but yeah.” gris paused before he smiled. “you got lucky.”
lucky. the word felt wrong - disgusting. you almost lost your life to save his. how dare gris to talk about lucky?
“take me to her,” he demanded.
you had been treated in a separate room so you could sleep in peace, without the usual commotion of the infirmary.
fuck. you looked so small, enjin thought as he shuffled inside the room.
you, who had stood over him in a cloud of poison and toxin. an unshakable force and now you looked so small in that bed. the blankets almost swallowed you and you wore this big oxygen mask that covered your face.
enjin’s chest tightened so painfully and he bit back the tears.
carefully, so he won’t wake you, he approached the bed. terrified that you’d fall apart if he walked too fast. absolutely unreasonable, but made a lot of fucking sense to him.
your breathing was uneven. probably your lungs were damaged and it sounded like every inhale hurt you.
that was his fault.
“hey,” he said quietly, pulling a chair closer and dropping into it. his voice didn’t feel like his own. “you idiot.”
no response. normally you’d scold him now and then try to wrestle until he kissed you until you forgot why you were mad in the first place.
he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at your hand where it rested limply beside you. it had been so strong before - strong enough to hold his life in place.
“you weren’t supposed to survive that,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “do you get that? that was—that was a one person deal.”
his throat tightened. he swallowed uncomfortably.
“you don’t get to make calls like that. not for me.”
silence filled the room again, heavy and suffocating in a different way. he reached out before he could stop himself, his hands hugging your smaller one.
it was warm and alive, and for now that was enough. his grip tightened.
“i would’ve died,” he admitted quietly. “and that would’ve been fine.”
that was kind of a fucking lie. of course he would die for you if it meant you stayed alive. but he also wanted to live so he could have more time with you.
fuck, he wanted to grow old with you. he wanted to fucking marry you, and maybe have a kid on his own.
“you don’t get to decide i’m worth more than you.” his voice cracked then, frustration bleeding through. “because i’m not.”
there was this ugly urge to yell at you. but before the urge could take over your fingers twitched weakly in his grasp.
enjin froze.
“shut up,” you mumbled hoarsely, and wrecked beneath the mask.
he stared at you, something sharp and fragile cracking open in his chest. “you’re awake.”
“unfortunately,” you breathed, the ghost of your usual tone slipping through. “and you’re still yappin’.”
he let out a shaky laugh, half relief, half disbelief. “yeah. guess i am.”
your eyes opened just enough to look at him, tired but unmistakably you. it made his heart thump wildly.
“good,” you murmured. “means it worked.”
his smile faltered. guilt surged back instantly, heavy and relentless. a guilt he wouldn’t get rid off for a long time, even after you were nursed back to health.
“don’t,” he said, sharper than intended. “don’t say that like it was a good thing.”
you studied him for a long moment, then your gaze softened.
“you’re alive,” you said simply.
like that was enough. like that justified everything, and what you had done. he tightened his grip on your hand, jaw clenching.
“yeah,” he whispered.
never again. he swore that to himself. if such a situation would ever occur again he’d fight you until his last breath. or the best would be if you stopped going out with him and the others.
for now he had to live with that… until he found a solution.
