Work killed me. I finally reached that breaking point, sooooo here's a blurb with Enjin because I said so
It's dark, practically silent in your room besides the sound of your boxfan whirling away in the corner. You lay in bed, curled around your body pillow, blankets tucked up under your chin. It just so happened to be one of those days.
Woke up feeling drowsy, headache forming at the base of your skull. Trying to leave your bedroom this morning was a mistake. Lights far too bright, what little sound was amplified. You took that as a sign to not even attempt further. Locking your door making sure nobody would disturb you.
For the past hour you fight yourself to fall back to sleep. Shifting around trying to find a comfortable position to lay. You can only sigh out in frustration, turning your back to the door. Fingers slowly creep up to your choker, mind already taking over.
“Enjinnnn,” you whine softly.
Minutes passed without any response from the blonde. That's when you forced yourself to sit up, groaning from the pain in your head. A hand coming up to hold your forehead. The ache progressed further, up the back of your head now too. Slight relief washed over you as the doorhandle jiggled. That's when you heard the faint clicking sound and the door slowly opened.
“Not feelin good, babydoll?”
You shook your head at the blonde. That shithead picked the lock. Not that you cared now, later though, that would be a discussion.
“C'mere.”
He closed the door behind him, making sure the lock was back in its original place. As he neared the bed he shrugged off his jacket, placing it on the closet surface available. Boots kicked off to the side along with a few pieces of clunky gear. Finally he slid into bed, gathering you up in his large arms.
“It's alright. M’ here now.”
You instantly clung to him, arms around his torso as you pressed your face into his chest. One of his tattooed hands cradled the back of your neck, thumb stroking against your hairline. His other arm draped over your hip, occasionally caressing the area.
You were able to finally relax. In the arms of someone who knew exactly what you needed. As you drifted off, you felt Enjin press a few kisses against your hair. Maybe it was just the fog in your head, but you swore you heard a faint ‘I love you’.
We know Enjin canonically likes hot chicks, and gets berated by Semiu for chasing after women instead of showing up to work.
Based on this information, it's easy to characterise him as a promiscuous, serial womaniser who enjoys the chase and is unable to commit.
But what if the reasons behind his commitment issues were related to his backstory, rather than simply chasing the next high?
We know Enjin carries immense guilt from his past, and feels responsible for introducing his former orphanage to slave traders, likely dooming his friends. His guilt was such that he considered suicide.
But in the panel below, we see an older Enjin trying to heal from his past, using the name Alto bestowed him to make connections.
Enjin mentions one of his goals being rescuing kids who were sold into slavery, which makes complete sense: he wants to atone for what he perceives as his sins.
But what about "finding someone"? This could have two meanings: perhaps he is simply referring to finding Alto to thank him for giving him another chance at life.
But what if he meant finding someone to settle down with, even building a family of his own?
I think commitment of this kind would be extremely difficult for him. Despite being close with Team Akuta and the rest of the Cleaners, no one knows about his past or even his real name. Making friends is one thing, building a true authentic connection with a partner with another. This would require him to bare his soul and be emotionally vulnerable, and I am not sure he can truly let someone in and be intimate with someone in that way.
He also mentions needing a person who is very forgiving. This could mean forgiving his slacking and flirtiness, but I think it can also be read as forgiving him for what he did in the past. Perhaps he is afraid of building genuine connection with someone, letting them into his deepest insecurities, only for them to abandon him once he opens up about what happened at the orphanage.
In short - I don't think Enjin is a womaniser because he sees women as objects and simply chases a high. I think he doesn't know how to to commit.
I hope building stronger, deeper connections and "coming clean" about his past with the Cleaners will help him live authentically with no fears from his past!
♯┆ enjin and you started fake dating to mess with some cleaners for a quick laugh but somewhere down the road the line between a fake relationship and a real relationship got blurry
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ cw: a little teasing, some sprinkles of angst but a happy ending
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ notes: requested by a lovely anon
♡ comments and reblogs appreciated ♡
Enjin and you started the whole fake dating thing as a joke to mess a little with the other cleaners for no other reason than a few laughs on your end.
It all started on a Saturday afternoon in the common room when boredom struck, and Zanka brought up how Enjin never dated anyone because he's too busy brooding. Enjin rolled his eyes at that comment and lazily slung an arm around your shoulders without any warning, but you let him pull you closer.
"Well, actually, I'm taken." He announced, loud enough for whoever else was there to hear, a broad grin plastered on his face when he squeezed your shoulder, hoping you'd jump in on the improvised joke.
You played along on instinct and leaned into him with an exaggerated sigh. "Stop being so clingy in public, babe," you mused and playfully tried to get out of his grasp.
The look on Zanka's face and hearing how Gris dropped his sandwich somewhere in the back was very well worth it. From then on you two kept the little act up. You'd hold hands during briefings, Enjin would steal bites off your plate at meals, and you'd call him ridiculous pet names just to watch the others cringe and leave the two of you be—it was just a silly joke.
Until it started to feel like it was no longer just fun for either of you.
The first time you noticed the shift in dynamics was when Enjin took a hit that was meant for you during a harmless mission that turned serious—he didn't even think about it for a second. It wasn't fatal but was deep enough that the blood soaked through his jacket. You sat with him as he got patched up at the medical bay, your fingers trembling much more than they should when you reached to hold his hand.
After that the fake dating stopped feeling entirely fake. Enjin's hands would linger on you even after everyone left and it was just the two of you. You'd catch him staring occasionally out in the yard, something unreadable in his eyes as he took another drag of his cigarette. The jokes between you became different, and you started to wonder where the line had blurred—when pretending had become true feelings.
It all came together three weeks later in the hallways just outside the dorms. You had followed Enjin towards his room and stopped right outside his door—you needed to draw the line after Semiu teasingly asked when the wedding was, and it became much too real for you. In front of her, you laughed it off while Enjin stayed quiet the whole way back.
"We should probably stop. It's getting a little...weird," you mumbled with your arms crossed, trying to physically draw a line as well.
"You think so?" Enjin asked as he leaned against the doorframe, mirroring the way you crossed your arms in front of your chest.
"Mhm, yeah," you confirmed and nodded. "It's starting to feel a little too real... To me, anyway. "You didn't intend for your voice to sound so small, but it couldn't be helped.
"It stopped being a joke to me a while ago." He said flatly; a lopsided grin slowly formed on his lips.
"What?" You couldn't help but be dumbfounded by how flat he said it, unsure if it was yet another joke or not.
"I went along with it because it was funny at first." Enjin ran a hand through his blonde hair as he spoke, looking a little annoyed by himself. "But I kinda like how no one thinks they have a shot with you now... because you're mine."
The words landed somewhere between your ribs and got stuck in your throat. You really wanted to believe him, given how natural his fake boyfriend performance had become, but the doubt crept in the moment your head caught up with your heart. "You're only saying that because it's easier to lie than to admit what a mess this is," you mumbled, somewhat annoyed by the fact that he couldn't take you seriously.
Enjin's expression warped into frustration at your annoyance, almost making him look hurt. "You really think that low of me? He asked defensively.
"I don't know what to think! We started this to mess with people, Enjin. But it also messed with my head."
He sighed heavily and stepped closer, crossed arms bumping against yours ever so lightly. "Because I don't do this—mess with someone like that." His words were honest, no sign of doubt in his golden eyes.
You simply stared at him, searching his face for his usual smirk, the deflection, or the moment he cracked and admitted that this was all a joke too. But it never came. Seconds felt like hours when you eventually met his eyes before your gaze drifted to the scar at his temple that you'd traced once while playing a couple and had wanted to trace again ever since while cradling his face.
"If you're lying, Enjin—" You broke yourself out of that haze, threatening him with empty words.
He simply shook his head and gave you a lopsided smile, seeming more honest than ever. "Wouldn't lie about something like this," he stated with a much gentler voice than what you were used to. His hand came up slow enough for you to lean away if you'd wanted to, and his fingers brushed your cheek before tilting your chin up.
Your face heated up before he even moved when he leaned in to press a feather-light kiss to the corner of your mouth, just to see your reaction. When you didn't move away, the next kiss was bestowed right upon your lips—nothing scandalous, just lips locking for mere seconds before he pulled back.
"Still think I'm lying?" Enjin asked with a shit-eating grin on his face, knowing very well that he broke your no-kissing rule just to show you that this was no longer just a charade.
You exhaled a shaky laugh, the feelings of his lips still lingering on yours. "You're impossible, idiot."
"Yeah," Enjin grinned and raised one brow playfully. "But I'm your idiot, if you want me."
You didn't need to be told twice, curling your fingers in the front of his shirt to pull him closer again, craving another kiss from him, which he gladly provided. He couldn't help but let out a small sound of approval, one hand sliding dangerously low on your back as he pulled you impossibly close while losing himself in the kiss.
"So... we're done pretending? You asked as you smiled up at the man, one finger jabbing his chest right above his heart.
Enjin's thumb traced your bottom lip as his eyes lit up with something that resembled relief. "Been done pretending for weeks. Just needed you to catch up." He mused and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.
Enjin’s face looked unusually pale, and those golden eyes that always flashed with mischief were now dull, like dying embers. He tried to offer you a smile, but it broke before it could even form; it was a painfully false mask of composure. When he reached out to caress your cheek, you flinched away, unable to process the coldness of the situation.
He didn't protest. He lowered his gaze and murmured in a husky voice:
"I’m fine... You have no reason to worry."
"Fine?" The laugh that escaped your throat sounded broken, laced with an irony you couldn't contain. "I can't believe you. You were a breath away from death, and you expect me to swallow that stupid smile of yours..."
The heat of tears began to spill down your cheeks before you could stop them. You brought a hand to your chest; the anguish burned inside you, as if the very air hurt as it entered your lungs.
"Enjin, I... I was so scared," you confessed in a thread of a voice.
Your vision blurred completely. The world around you lost its axis and your legs gave out, yielding to the weight of the residual panic. But you didn't hit the ground. Before you could fall, his arms wrapped around you with desperate firmness, locking you against his chest in an embrace that tried to piece together both of your broken parts.
You heard the echo of a shaky sigh in his chest.
"I don't know what to say..." His voice sounded so dull, so stripped of his usual arrogance, that it completely shattered you. "I was scared too."
Your eyes snapped open against his shoulder. While the room kept spinning, your only anchor to reality was the scent of tobacco and perfume emanating from his clothes.
"I was terrified of never seeing you again," he continued, squeezing you tighter against him, as if fearing you might vanish. "Of never hearing your voice, of your smile becoming nothing but a memory."
"Stop, Enjin... please," you pleaded, hiding your face in his neck.
"I was afraid of dying far away from you," he confessed in a whisper that vibrated against your skin.
You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, searching for the truth in his gaze.
"Don't lie... Do you really think that would have been okay?"
A solitary tear traced a path down Enjin's cheek, betraying his facade of steel. Clumsily, you reached out to wipe it away. Sensing your touch, he caught your fingers, bringing them to his lips to press a chaste but desperate kiss against your skin.
"I don't want you to die," you whispered, and with your free hand, you traced the edges of his bandaged wounds with infinite tenderness.
He didn't even flinch at the physical pain. On the contrary, he closed his eyes, surrendering entirely to the warmth of your touch, as if your hands possessed the power to heal the soul that had almost slipped away from him.
"I don't want to die," he admitted, opening his eyes to lock them onto yours. "But if fate forces me to... I wouldn't want you there to see it."
Your heart tightened. Even though his words tried to protect you by pushing you away from his tragedy, the silent plea in his golden eyes screamed the exact opposite: he was begging you not to let go.
"Stop it," you said, torn between the angry impulse to hit him for being so reckless and the fervent desire to kiss him just to make sure he was still alive.
Enjin seemed to read your torment. A spark of his old self returned to his eyes, and the corner of his lips tugged upward.
"Come on, doll... you're not getting rid of me that easily."
Even at the edge of the abyss, he couldn't stop joking. That tiny flash of arrogance brought your soul back into your body; it relieved you to know that, no matter what happened, Enjin would always be Enjin. He was someone who would embrace death without a second thought if it meant fulfilling his purpose. You knew it, you understood it, and you loved him for it... But as you watched him smile through your tears, you couldn't help but wonder: if his devotion was so pure, why did loving him have to hurt so much?
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