Chapter Text
Gris is tired. That’s a gross understatement, really, but he doesn’t think there's really a word for the kind of exhaustion plaguing him. HQ’s halls stretch on for what feels like miles, but he keeps walking anyway, ignoring the slight tremble of his hands. His muscles ache, and he wants nothing more than to lie down and sleep. He had wanted to stay on base with everything that happened lately, had figured he could keep an eye on Enjin’s team and just be around in the event something else happened, but he should’ve guessed it wouldn’t work out like that.
Zanka had asked for a mission barely a day after Enjin’s arrival in the infirmary. Maybe it was his insistence or something else that had the boss reluctantly agree, even if he’d asked Semiu to give him an easier mission. It was clear what Zanka had been doing, is still doing: trying to pick up the weight his team couldn’t while also trying to make up for his injury at the Doll Festival. Trying to put on a brave face because he’s the oldest, and he’s the person Enjin trusted the most with missions he wasn’t able to take on himself. Which in Zanka’s mind meant he had to do that even now and even more often because no one else on the team could.
Enjin would’ve likely tried to subtly discourage this behavior, but with him down, Zanka was determined to work himself back into the infirmary. Gris could only follow him and make sure he wasn’t too reckless.
Zanka was a handful, but Riyo was by far the worst. She was his first; she knew Enjin better than almost anyone. They had a relationship Rudo and Zanka couldn’t even begin to compare to. Even when he found himself at a loss with Enjin, she never seemed to. Seeing her face when she’d run into the infirmary that night.
He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look so scared.
She hasn’t left the infirmary since, and while that was worrisome, it at least made it easy to find her, huddled in a chair by Enjin’s bedside. Her hair was down, a rare sight, but ot spoke volumes about her mental state. The red strands would fall over her face like a veil, which made it hard to see how she was doing, but he figured he’d have a hard time telling that, regardless. She was private the same way Enjin had always been, never speaking of her life before the Cleaners, and she hid how she felt more often than not. Enjin knew her better, could read her better than he could ever hope to. He’s known her since she’d come in on that fateful day years ago, trailing behind Enjin like a stray cat. He can’t imagine what’s rolling around in her head, but he’d sat in the infirmary with her as long as he could, even if she never uttered a word.
Then you had Rudo. Gris hadn’t gotten to see the kid before he’d run off. Unlike Riyo and Zanka, he’d vanished after seeing Enjin get hooked up to the first blood bag, and he’d been too caught up helping Eishia to notice. Riyo had pointed it out later, one of the last things she’d said before going silent. He’d see Rudo in passing, would catch glimpses of him in the mess hall, but he never stayed in one place long enough for it to matter. He’d seen him in the infirmary, but he never looked away from Umbreaker. They’d left the instrument there, leaning up against Enjin’s bed, but whenever Rudo would visit, she’d be in his lap. Gris wasn’t entirely sure how Enjin would take that; he was particularly protective of his instrument. All givers were, but knowing how much Rudo treasures objects, he thinks Enjin wouldn’t mind too much.
He’s decided today that Rudo would be his priority, given he hadn’t seen much of him lately, which meant he hadn’t been able to talk to him after everything. Everyone who knew Rudo knew the story of how he’d ended up down here. He had come home to his dad being murdered, and then he had been framed; chucked into the pit like trash. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Rudo’s face that night had been enough of a tell. A telling expression that people who’d suffered a great deal wore. People trapped in memories of events long past. He’s seen it before. Fighting trash beasts wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows; he’s known people who died, who watched others die. Seen the effects that leave behind. Rudo needed someone to lean on. He was far too young to be dealing with all this on his own.
He figured none of them would take it very well, Enjin’s gaggle of kids, but he is utterly exhausted. Team Akuta’s leader rarely got seriously hurt, something you could attribute to his skill in the field and to his not so aggressive nature. It allowed him to handle trash beasts and people well, but he supposes the cleaner can’t guard or fight against the consequences of his own actions. Said consequence is weighing down his pocket like he is carting around lead.
That is the other issue he’s dealing with. Gris runs his thumb across the chipped glass of the instrument in his pocket, Enjin’s damn watch. He’s had it in there for the last few days, that and the box of cigarettes Enjin had had on him that night. He’s carting around both of the cleaner’s bad habits in his pocket; how stupid is that? Gris is not a giver, not in any way, but even he could feel something off about this watch while it was with him. He recalled what Follo had mentioned when he wore Rudo’s gloves that time in Tori; it was enough of a deterrent against any thoughts of putting it on or even touching it without his gloves.
Gris had originally planned to leave it in Enjin’s room, tuck it into his dresser, or his closet, but when he’d arrived, the door had loomed over him like a trash beast. He didn’t want to go back inside. Then he’d thought about hiding it in his own dresser next, but when he’d left his room, it just felt wrong. Every hiding spot felt wrong, as if he was betraying Enjin’s trust by leaving it unattended. The way Enjin had spoken about it, the look on his face, the tremble in his voice. He hadn’t seen Enjin get so worked up in years, let alone actually shed tears from the sheer burden of it. So it’s been living in his pocket, or in his bag, or hidden temporarily in his room when he’d shower or go fetch meals.
No one suspected a thing, and really, why would they? He supposes that’s what Enjin’s thought process probably was: why would some random cleaner have something so important? Even telling himself all that wasn’t enough to push away the paranoia of carrying it around. To think Enjin would just casually carry this around for years made his head hurt. Maybe that’s why the guy was so paranoid about strangers. Gris would be more than happy to hand this thing back to him once he’d wake up.
It felt as if he was juggling a hundred things at once, but if that’s what needed to be done, then so be it. Whenever Enjin was away, he left his kids to Gris. This isn’t any different.
The supporter pauses for a moment, realizes he’d passed Enjin’s door, and sighs. He turns around before gripping the doorknob with more force than he needed to. It swings open, and he’s greeted by the smell of iron. He hasn’t come back since he’d carted Enjin to the infirmary, so everything is still in disarray. Sheets strewn about and the familiar mess they’d left behind in the bathroom. Gris steps inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click as it locks. It’s dead silent; the lack of noise is unsettling, but he moves forward, pulling Enjin’s sheets off the floor, then his blanket. Blood stains the gray fabric; the soft cloth now caked with crusted blood.
This is where it started. Enjin had fallen asleep after returning from the infirmary, seeming noticeably lighter. Although he looked more exhausted than before he’d left, he looked relieved, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Gris had remembered the way the tension had bled from his body the moment he’d laid down after returning. The cleaner had fallen asleep, looking far more relaxed than he had in weeks.
Then Enjin had jerked awake an hour later, choking and grabbing at his throat before blood began dripping from his lips.
Gris squeezes the sheets in his hand, forcing them into a tight ball and throwing them across the room. They bounce against the dresser in the corner with a resounding thump before landing in a sad pile next to Enjin’s boots. He nears the dresser, pulling the door open to the collection of Enjin’s many shirts and sweaters. He grabs one blindly, pulling it off the hanger so carelessly that the metal snaps back at him and nearly falls off the rack. Gris grabs hold of it, forcing the hanger to stop moving and closes the door.
The shirt he’d grabbed is just a simple red shirt, similar to the red one he wears under his bulky coat, minus the low cut collar. It smells like Enjin. Him and his cigarettes, almost every article of clothing he owned came with the faint whiff of tobacco and something sweeter he could never place. If he had to guess, it’d be his shampoo or maybe some kind of cologne. He can’t help but bury his face in the fabric, inhaling the scent as long as he can. He misses the man it’s normally attached to more than anything.
Gris tosses it onto the bed, then pulls the zipper of his coat down. Polluted zones were always hot, the heaping piles of trash made sure of that, so losing his sweaty shirt was a relief. He needed to clean Enjin’s room, and he needed to shower. Might as well do both at once, right?
…
Enjin’s water pressure sucked. How the hell that man managed to take such meticulous care of both his hair and extensive tattoos in there, Gris will never know. His hair was still damp as he trekked through the halls once again, in a fresh pair of sweatpants from his own room, and Enjin’s shirt. He looks like he’s ready for bed, and to be honest, he is, but he spots the infirmary’s door just down the hall and straightens up. Hopefully Rudo is here, and if he isn’t, then at least Riyo will be.
The door creaks open, and he thinks he’s going to be sick of this place for a while. It’s as sullen as it was before his mission with Zanka, and he can spot Riyo’s red hair from the door. It’s still down, but it doesn’t matter because she’s moved on Enjin’s bed now, sitting by his feet with her back to the door. He’s not sure what she’s doing, but she’s got something in her lap, her arms jerking ever so slightly. To his surprise and relief, Rudo’s by his bedside too. Umbreaker is in his hands again, her canopy wrinkled slightly by the boy’s hold. Riyo’s head twitches in his direction when he gets close, and all he gets is a wary stare before she’s looking back down at her lap.
Rudo doesn’t acknowledge him at all. It’s like he might as well not even exist.
He’s just staring at Umbreaker, eyes flicking between his gloves and Enjin’s vital instrument. Gris bites the inside of his cheek before glancing at Enjin. He looks about the same, but he isn’t as pale as before. His blood bags had long since been switched out for IV fluid, the tube still embedded in his wrist, with a thin line up to the bag hanging over Rudo’s head. It helped bring back the color to his skin, but he still looked as drained as he did days ago. It was odd to see him so still. He was such a busybody; even when he slept, he twitched or mumbled, rolling over a hundred times before finally settling. And you didn’t dare jostle him too much after that, or the entire process would restart. And yet, now he remains perfectly still.
It makes his skin crawl, but he sits down in the seat placed next to Rudo. Riyo’s got The Ripper in her lap, wiping her blade with a small cloth over and over, even though the blade’s clean enough to see your reflection.
“Where’s Eishia?” he asks, and Rudo freezes up next to him before finally looking up at him. He’s had eye bags since he’s fallen down here, but now it looks like someone used him as a punching bag; deep purple bruising sits under each eye that makes Gris wince. The shirt he’s wearing is far too big, bunched up around his waist in a way that makes him look even smaller. His chest aches for these two teenagers. They shouldn’t have to deal with this after everything that had just happened. They’re just kids. He hates seeing them like this, so devoid of life, their eyes duller than ever.
“Left a while ago. Corvus wanted to talk to her.” He nods at Rudo’s words, crossing his legs and settling into the chair. He wants to talk to Rudo, but isn’t sure how to approach him, especially with Riyo sitting there. Gris sighs and shifts his attention to Enjin’s hand laid on the bed. He traces the tattoos with his eyes, waits to see if either of Enjin’s kids will break the silence, but they’re buried in their minds. Riyo’s worryingly alert, like she thinks someone’s going to break in here and slit Enjin’s throat. And Rudo looks like he’s gonna shrink into himself so much he’ll just stop existing.
After some amount of time, Rudo moves, startling Gris since he had begun to count each of Riyo’s strokes. She freezes, eyeing Rudo, and he does the same, watching the boy slide off the chair and land with a quiet thump. Gris notes that he doesn’t put Umbreaker back; in fact, he seems fully intent on carrying the instrument out with him. That makes him sit up, back aching from the hard wood.
“Are you taking her?” Rudo paused and turned to him with a puzzled expression, but it only made him look more miserable. Gris nods towards the umbrella, and Rudo blinks, once, then twice, before it finally seems to register. He takes a few steps closer and holds her out to him, head tilted downward. Even under all that misery, a light shade of pink dusts his cheeks. It’s sweet, and he bites back his chuckle. Enjin cared about all his kids, trusting them all with every ounce of his being. Rudo’s love for trash and objects is the sole reason he’s now hesitating on asking for the umbrella back. Enjin let him hold her after missions, passed her off to Zanka if he was helping someone injured. He’s seen Riyo with her before, helping him add patches to her canopy. He glances down at the older cleaner, his hollowed out eyes that match Rudo’s own before sighing.
“Bring her back later, okay?” Rudo’s eye twitches, widening slightly as if he’s surprised. He nods, gripping her tightly. It reminds him of a child that carries around a stuffed animal or an old blanket, something that brought them comfort. Maybe that’s why he was holding her. Despite the damage Umbreaker could inflict, the only thing these kids have ever gotten from her was comfort and protection. Gris watches Rudo leave, a frown on his face. Hopefully, he’ll be able to find him later.
—
His hands ache again. They haven’t really stopped, not for the last few days. He feels sick. That is really the only feeling he can point out with certainty right now. Everything else is a familiar jumbled mess, like the knot Regto helped him try to unravel long ago. It’s like someone dropped a trash beast on his chest; like this unbearable weight he can’t get to go the hell away. The feeling is agonizing. It reminds him of his first nights on the ground, the ones where he’d lie awake unable to sleep. The nights when his hands would throb and he’d feel like the weight of Regto’s loss was slowly killing him, suffocating him in real time. With time and his friends, that pain had eased, still prevalent, but not so debilitating. Rudo thought he’d moved past that, gotten to a new point in his life, but he’s back to square one again.
Only this time it was far more difficult to navigate.
He knows how he feels about Regto. He loves him; it’s simple really, probably the most certain he’s ever felt about anything in his life. Enjin is something similar to that, a figure that’s guided him through life with an attitude only Regto could rival. He thinks that’s why he’d gotten so attached to the older cleaner, because of how similar they were. Maybe that’s why this hurts so bad. He imagines Regto betraying his trust, and an icy fear settles into his bones alongside that anger that’s burrowed itself into his very being. He wouldn’t have expected this kind of feeling from someone like Regto, from someone like Enjin.
Everyone had their secrets, but this was different. This was something he wasn’t even remotely able to put into words. He keeps hearing this never ending mantra on loop in his head.
Liar.
He wants to be mad at Enjin, is mad at him. Wants to yell at him, accuse him of lying and pretending he didn’t know anything, but every time he thinks of him his chest aches with apprehension. It almost overwhelms the burning anger in his chest because that’s the other way Enjin is reminding him of Regto. All he can remember is bloodied faces and dead eyes, pale skin and perfectly limp bodies. He couldn't stand looking at Enjin in the infirmary; it reminded him too much of Regto.
He’s so mad at him, but he felt nauseous from anxiety. Anxious he’d die just like Regto. Worried he’d die and take his secrets to the grave. Worried he’d never get to do any of the things Enjin had wanted to do with him, promised to do them with him after the Doll Festival. He’s so scared and angry, it makes his hands sweat within his gloves and his head hurt.
His head is pounding, even as he sits on his bed, Umbreaker gripped tightly in his hands. There was always something comforting about Enjin’s instrument; maybe it was because she’d been there when the cleaner saved his life, but holding her now thaws some of the ice that had settled into his bones. Somehow soothes the throbbing in his hands. Gris had let him leave with her a while ago, wearing that same anxious expression he’s had for the last few days.
Rudo didn’t want to leave the infirmary, but he also felt that if he was there too long, he was going to explode. Zanka’s become sparse around HQ since Enjin wound up bedridden. Riyo’s said all of ten words. Gris looks like he’s going to crash soon, like he’s running on fumes. Everything felt wrong, but Enjin felt the worst.
He’s so confused. Confused and angry. He couldn’t understand anything running wild in his mind. Thinking about Enjin and Alto, it hurts to even put them in the same sentence. Mymo had known, had used it to get into their heads, and it had worked because Enjin had never looked like that. Because Enjin never denied it, because Enjin looked at him, terrified of what had just been said. Terrified that he’d heard it. That he now knows this big secret the cleaner’s kept since he fell down here. All those times they’d been digging into the watchman series, digging into his bloodline, and Enjin knew someone from his bloodline. It made him wonder about the cleaner. About every time he was ‘helping’ him. What else was he hiding?
Regto’s killer belongs to the cleaners.
They’d ruled him out. One of the first to be checked off the list of suspects, because why would Enjin have killed Regto? It made no sense then, but now it was eating away at him. Enjin had been there when he’d fallen, had saved his life and welcomed him to the Cleaners without hesitation. Riyo had mentioned it once, how Enjin could be paranoid about new people. So why wasn’t he paranoid about him? Why was he welcomed with open arms? Enjin was frisky with Fu and questioned Amo’s sudden position but never him.
It was a strict rule to never go into No Man’s Lands alone, a rule even Enjin himself heavily reinforced, but he had been alone when Rudo had fallen. He just happened to be there. They knew the angel had wings, a way to travel back and forth between the Sphere and the ground. Enjin was the biggest help in his search as well. He knew everything Rudo did, followed his every whim without question. Something he used to be grateful for, but now the thoughts only housed suspicion.
Rudo pushes himself off the bed, walking over to the piles of trash in his room. Enjin had said he’d take him trash hunting after the festival. That they’d make a day out of it, bring anyone who wanted to come, and they’d hit a new city he’d never been to after. How could that Enjin be the person who killed Regto? All the odd coincidences and evidence he’d thought of, all of it was completely countered by Enjin just being Enjin. It pissed him off, this bias towards everyone. If Regto’s killer really was in the cleaners, he doesn’t think he’ll ever figure out who.
Rudo hunkers down next to the small table by his bed and the edge of his trash heaps. Something sharp jabs into his thigh, but he doesn’t want to move. The concert is cool against his back, and Umbreaker comes to rest on his lap. Was she worried about Enjin? Was she upset he’d brought her away from her giver? He hadn’t thought about it then, but now he feels guilty.
“Sorry,” he whispers to the instrument. She doesn’t respond because of course she doesn’t, but Rudo frowns anyway. He hadn’t once considered how she may feel about it, about her giver possibly dying. He wonders if she thought Enjin looked different too.
The older cleaner had looked odd, the same way Regto had. He’d never seen a dead person before Regto. Sure, he’s been surrounded by the idea of death his entire life, had it flaunted in front of his face if he so much as breathed wrong on the sphere, but seeing a corpse was different. Enjin wasn’t dead, no matter how much he looked like he was. The color had only begun to return to his face on the fourth blood bag. Apparently he’d coughed up even more on the way to the infirmary; Gris’ bloody clothes were proof enough of that. Even then, Enjin wasn’t dead. That thought is accompanied by immense relief, a feeling that directly contradicts the anger simmering under his skin.
Rudo grips Umbreaker tighter, wishing she could give him some kind of advice, some answer. Ask her all the questions he can’t ask Enjin. He’s so confused, he’s so angry. It’s festering under his skin like an infection. He wants to rip his eyes out or peel his skin back and tear the nerves from his muscles, do anything to feel something other than this knot of emotions growing more taut every passing day.
There’s a knock on his door, startling him out of his thoughts. It’s quiet, as if the person on the other side was unsure about knocking. Rudo can ignore them. Pretend he’s not here, let himself stew a while longer because he’s afraid if someone says the wrong thing right now it’ll be the final straw. He won’t be able to resist the flood of emotions, and he’ll crash and burn. It makes him think back to Follo and their argument. The last thing he wants to do is repeat that. He’s supposed to be better than that now. The knock gets louder this time, and he lets out a shaky breath.
“Rudo? Are you in there?” So it’s Gris. Rudo feels his chest ache, and he hugs Umbreaker tighter, pressing his cheek against her canopy. Much to his dismay, the door creaks open a moment later, and Gris’ head pops into view. The support scans the room for him before finally finding him, and a smile comes onto his face. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Can I come in?” Rudo stares at him for a moment.
“Sure,” he mumbles against his better judgement. Gris looks relieved at the answer, pushing the door open and stepping inside. He’s dressed to go to sleep, and he looks like he could use some. He steps inside with careful steps and closes the door behind him. Rudo shifts his eyes to the pile of trash in front of him, while Gris gets closer. His gaze jumps from each broken piece of junk until the supporter is next to him. He’s leaning against his bed, their knees close enough to touch if he moved over. He’s trying to avoid having to move any of the trash closer to the foot of his bed by sitting closer.
Rudo looks at him, brows furrowed.
“Are you wearing Enjin’s clothes?” Enjin’s name feels odd in his mouth. It never has before. Gris blinks at him before looking down at his shirt, then a sheepish smile appears on his face.
“Yeah, I was in his room earlier… cleaning up.” Gris winces at his own words, looking in the other direction at the mention of Enjin’s room, as if he shouldn’t have mentioned it at all. Rudo can’t move past the way his noises twitches, and he rubs it before scooting further into the corner.
“You smell like him,” he mumbles, and Gris chuckles, but it lacks any of his usual humor.
“Sorry about that.” Rudo doesn’t respond. He doesn’t really have any idea what to say, but the faint smell of cigarette smoke invades his space, uncomfortably familiar.
“How’re you doing?” Rudo shrugs. There’s too much on his mind, too much to put into words. What would he even say? How would he explain to someone like Gris his dilemma? It wasn’t exactly a secret how close he and Enjin were. Rudo pauses, eyes catching on a crack in his floor before shifting to Gris’ shirt. They were close. Closer than close. They’ve known each other for years.
What if Gris knew?
Rudo swallows, his throat suddenly dry. Why did he let him in here? Why hadn’t he considered that before letting him in? Gris is sitting next to him, possibly harboring the same secret that Enjin had been, acting like everything was normal. His skin was crawling like bugs under his skin. He can’t bring himself to meet Gris’ gaze anymore, can’t look up from where he’s glaring at the crack in the concrete. He can’t do this. He felt like he was going to explode.
Rudo didn’t know if that meant lashing out or his head actually exploding, because the pressure that had built up over the last few days made it feel like that. How is he supposed to wait for Enjin to wake up to demand answers? What is he supposed to do? He tried to ignore it, those first few hours in the infirmary, but doing that had only made him more frustrated, even angrier than he had been. Why can’t he just wait? Why isn’t he able to control himself? Is it because he felt so betrayed? Or is he still incapable of controlling his anger, just like back then?
“Rudo?” He jumps, eyes snapping up to Gris. He looks concerned, and Rudo hadn’t realized how tight his grasp on Umbreaker had gotten; her canopy wrinkled and straining under the force. He drops her instantly, and she falls into his lap with a muted thud.
“What’s wrong?” Rudo looks at him again, eyes boring into Gris' own.
“Enjin knew my dad.” The silence that follows his words is deafening. He lets the words sink into that silence, and he glares at Gris because it’s the only way he can keep his eyes up and on him. Gris looks at him as if he hasn’t quite registered what he said until his eyes blow so wide they look like they could pop out of his skull.
“What?” he practically chokes out, and Rudo swallows, still watching him for any sign he’s lying. He could tell when people lied most of the time. They had tells, small subtle things they usually weren’t even aware of, like a change in their voice or a twitch of their eye. People up on the Sphere lied all the time. To each other, to the soldiers, to sellers and customers. He’s sure skilled liars don’t have tells, but Gris didn’t seem like a good liar. He looks taken aback, as if he doesn’t know what to say. Guess that means Enjin just likes to keep his secrets to himself. Unless Gris turned out to be an excellent liar after all.
Rudo doesn’t repeat himself, and Gris leans back against the mattress, looking down at his lap, brows furrowed. He looks deep in thought, or like he’s trying to figure something out before running a hand through his hair. It’s still damp.
“I… okay,” he says, and Rudo cocks his head at him. Okay?
“Okay?” he says, voicing his thoughts, and Gris lets out a deep breath; he’s picking at the beginning of a tear on his pants, right at the seam. At the rate he’s going, there’s going to be an actual hole by the time he’s done speaking to him. Gris nods several times actually, before clapping his hands on his knees.
“He’s very… private,” is what he chooses to say, and Rudo narrows his eyes.
“Private,” he deadpans, and Gris looks at him, his lips pursed and eyes wide. He kinda looks like a frog. He’s never seen one, but Remlin had shown him a bunch of animals they would take inspiration from when drawing.
“I- I guess what I mean is that’s not… entirely surprising?” Rudo narrows his gaze even more. Maybe Gris is a better liar than he thought. Gris must instantly realize what he’s implied based on his abashed expression, and he puts his hands up in front of himself, smiling awkwardly.
“I didn’t know, I swear,” he stresses, and Rudo doesn’t feel reassured in the slightest. Gris bites the inside of his cheek before sighing. The supporter puts his hands on the floor and twists himself towards him. Something in his pocket knocks against the floor; the muted sound makes Gris freeze before he settles again. He looks up at him, his face falling into something more serious now.
“Enjin… he knows a lot of people. They’re his ‘connections’, as he calls them,” begins Gris, and that makes sense. He’s got the largest team in the building, all brought in by him. He’s been with the Cleaners for a long time, before a lot of the people here.
“And one of those connections is my dad.” Gris nods slowly, unsure.
“I suppose so?”
“Why wouldn’t he tell me? Why hide it?” he asks, and he wants Gris to have an answer so badly. Wants to have an explanation that can fill this gaping hole in his stomach. He wants to know exactly how he should feel about Enjin because he can’t figure it out, can’t push away the anger, and can’t fully accept it because of everything Enjin’s done for him. He hates not being able to decide. Gris looks at him like he can read his mind, sees the hurt brewing in him, and frowns.
“He doesn’t talk about it. His life before the cleaners. Not even with me.” Rudo feels his face soften at Gris words, at the bitterness laced into every syllable. It makes Rudo wonder how many times Enjin’s secrets got between them, between anyone here.
“I’m just trying to say there’s a lot no one knows about him, and he likes it that way. Wants it that way. I know he didn’t have a perfect childhood, and we’ve had a few conversations with… vague details, but that’s it, really. What I’m trying to say is he’s someone who uses secrets to protect himself, or because he’s just…” He grimaces, leaning his head back on the mattress.
“Private,” Rudo finishes, and Gris smiles sadly.
“I was going to say not very trusting, but those two can coexist.” The silence that follows those words is heavy, and Rudo swallows around the lump in his throat, finding the same crack in the floor from before. He studies it because he doesn’t want to think about any of his thoughts, doesn’t want to deal with how they tear at him until Gris is finished talking.
“It… hurts,” he mutters, not really sure how to explain this deep ache that’s settled into his chest beyond such a simple explanation. How to put into words how angry he is, how worried he is, how hurt he feels. Gris looks at him, looks like he understands this ache just as much as he does.
“I know.” And Rudo can tell that he does know, his face says it all without even needing to use words.
“I’m so angry. I hate being angry, but it’s different with him. I was so angry when I remembered, and it was easier to be angry, but then…” The impromptu trip to the infirmary doesn’t need to be mentioned again; they both know what he’s talking about.
“Now you don’t know what to feel?” Rudo shrugs. He feels ashamed of himself; of these feelings he can’t decipher. Gris was always so level headed; it felt like he was nothing but an immature child in comparison. Even Zanka and Riyo felt more in tune with themselves and how to handle themselves while he was stuck pouting like a five-year-old. He needs someone else to help him do what so many people he knows can do on their own.
“I get that. I’ve been mad at my fair share of people, Enjin included. It’s not your fault for feeling the way you do. Feelings are complicated.” Feelings are annoying seems more accurate to him, but he nods to Gris’ words anyways. The supporter goes quiet for a moment before shifting his weight again.
“I can’t say for sure why he wouldn’t tell you. I’m sure he has a reason. He’s not the kind of person who does things without a reason. But I understand it, you know?” Rudo peeks up at him.
“Enjin’s difficult sometimes. There are moments when something happens and I have no idea why he reacts the way he does. And he guards it all, like his life is part of some story no one else but him is allowed to know. Made up of things he won’t tell anyone, or refuses to acknowledge. I know he doesn’t mean anything by it; it’s just how he is, but sometimes it hurts knowing he doesn’t feel like he can tell me anything.” Rudo watches him, stares at the melancholic smile on his face, and a part of him gets angrier at Enjin for this. For keeping secrets from not only him, but other people too. He’s never had secrets like that, so maybe he just doesn’t get it. It still pisses him off anyways.
“Why don’t you try to get him to tell you things?”
“Because he doesn’t respond well to it. He also doesn’t owe me anything.”
“But if he hurts you by not telling you, then doesn’t that mean he’d owe you? Shouldn’t he trust you by now?” Gris sighs; looks like he’s trying to solve a particularly difficult riddle that has no actual answer. He looks like he wants to be asleep, actually.
“Yes, and no; it’s… complicated. It depends on who it impacts, and yeah, there has to be a certain level of trust.”
“Doesn’t him knowing my dad impact me?” Gris looks at him long and hard before nodding.
“Yeah, it does,” he admits, and Rudo feels relief at his confirmation. The relief that comes from someone having your back. He doesn’t know what he’d do if Gris told him that Enjin’s secret didn’t pertain to him. That Enjin was completely in the right to keep it from him.
“Enjin is capable of communicating, very capable. I don’t want to make it seem like he isn’t. Just not so much when it comes to himself. Communication is just harder for some people. Especially if it’s about something they don’t want to talk about.”
“So he’s a hypocrite.” Gris laughs for real this time, caught off guard, and the sound makes Rudo’s lips twitch.
“Yeah, yeah, maybe a little bit, but Enjin loves you guys; you’re probably one of the most important things in his life. Just try… talking to him about it. A lot of people don’t react well to being accused or yelled at, get defensive on instinct. Just asking him about it may do the trick.” Gris sounds like Regto now. He’d always talked about how important communication was. How anger rarely got someone anywhere in any situation. How there was always two sides to a story. He wonders what Regto would say to all this, if his advice would be the same. Regto would probably like Gris.
Rudo leans forward slightly, staring down at the worn leather of his gloves, and thinks back to Amo. To Follo. How he’d hurt her in his anger, how he’d completely forgotten about his goal for information and jumped the gun. How Follo had harbored resentment about him for so long until he snapped and got both of them hurt. Two definitive examples where anger continued to show how useless it was when it came to people. He said he wouldn’t do that again, that he was going to be better.
He knows going to Enjin and accusing him of every slightly suspicious thing in his mind isn’t going to help him, no matter how badly he wants to yell at him, to scream at him for lying. Rudo wouldn’t let his anger blind him anymore; he’d been better with Enjin’s help, with Amo’s help, with their agreement to become better together. He’d become friends with Follo and promised to help him with his new powers. All his friends gave him reasons to exist without being angry; gave him a calmness that allowed him the space to work through his emotions instead of using them like a weapon.
Even now, Gris was advising him, telling him how he should go about this with Enjin. If anyone would know how to talk to Enjin, it’d be Gris, right? He wanted answers, but he had to be smart about it. His mind drifts back to Enjin in the infirmary, gripping the bed frame and looking pained as he mulled over what to say about the parking garage. Then the eventual promise that avoided the subject right then and there.
“He said he’d tell me,” he admits, staring at one patch on Enjin’s umbrella.
“He did? When?”
“When he stopped by the infirmary last time. I’d asked him what happened in the parking garage because I couldn’t remember. He promised to tell me later.” Gris looks pleasantly surprised before dragging his hands down his face.
“Do you think he meant it? His promise?” Gris lets his hands fall from his face, tilting his head at him, but wastes no time nodding, smiling at him. Not bittersweet or anxious, he almost looks relieved.
“Without a doubt.” There’s something to his words, a confidence in them that makes it hard to doubt. That’s why he’d looked so relieved then, having full confidence in Enjin’s words.
“Promises mean a lot to him. He wouldn’t lie about something like that,” he explains, and Rudo nods in response, but can’t help the doubt that worms itself into his mind.
It’s all he can do to latch onto those words and hope they’re true.
—
Rudo trails behind him as they walk through HQ. He had mentioned wanting to go back to the infirmary after their talk. Gris had wanted to tell him to get some sleep, but who was he to tell him no? Rudo follows a few steps behind, probably thinking about their conversation. Gris feels so bad for him, and he hates all this, really. The secrets, the miscommunication, or more the lack of communication. He had always been the sole person affected by Enjin’s habit of keeping secrets until now. There wasn’t another person close enough to him that would need to know anything terribly personal about him. Enjin was close with all his kids, but he was in their business, not the other way around.
Riyo and Enjin had a sort of unspoken agreement not to pry beyond what they wanted the other to know, and he knows Riyo might even know more about Enjin than he does. He understands why Enjin keeps his secrets, but he doesn’t like that someone like Rudo is affected. It makes him wonder how much of an effect Rudo has had on Enjin. How many times has Enjin thought about Rudo’s father? About that watch?
Hell, learning Enjin knew Rudo’s dad gave him whiplash like no other. It doesn’t take a genius to put together who the watch belonged to and who the unnamed person he got it from was. It made a lot of sense, actually, but it still rubbed him wrong. He doesn’t know how it plays into Enjin’s life, Rudo’s dad. It’s actually a bit insane to think about. Rudo hadn’t even met his dad, but Enjin had? What kind of coincidence was that? And Enjin had said he’d had the watch for a long time; just how long? How long has he known Alto Surebrec? How long had he had the instrument? How long had he been guarding it?
The watch somehow feels even heavier than it had before, and he feels guilty for not mentioning it, but it wasn’t his to mention. None of this was about him; he just hopes Enjin keeps that promise, that he actually tells him everything and not just about his dad, but it certainly didn’t sound like he knew about the watch. His trip to the infirmary will have to be explained somehow, and while Gris knows he’ll likely lie to Eishia and whoever else asks, he hopes Rudo will be exempt.
Of course he doesn’t want the kid to blame himself for how Enjin turned out. It was one of Enjin’s fears about the watch that made the most sense. Rudo already carried so much on his shoulders; he hates to think about adding another burden as much as Enjin clearly does. It was all so much to consider, to deal with. He certainly doesn’t envy Enjin’s position. The watch, Rudo’s father, the secrecy, the inevitable conversation.
A small part of him hopes that if Enjin does talk to Rudo about it, maybe he’ll see that sharing your burdens isn’t the worst thing ever. Maybe he’ll realize he can talk to him too. About anything. The nightmares he occasionally has. About what he thinks about during those moments he falls silent, staring at nothing in particular. They’ve been together for so long, yet he hardly knows anything. Only these vague stories he’s told when they had to talk about it because it got bad enough to warrant it.
And while he could put things together from that, things he loathed to think about, it didn’t deter him from wanting to know more. He can’t imagine hiding every part of himself from everyone, but he’s not Enjin. He’s not Riyo or Corvus, or even Bro who tried to keep how he met Dear under wraps. Everyone has their secrets, even he does, but it’d mean the world to him if Enjin shared his for once.
Something’s pressed into his leg and he looks down, notices Rudo pushing the tip of Umbreaker into his leg. Rudo stops walking, and Gris feels a pang of worry about it.
“What’s up?”
“I’m gonna go get something to eat,” he says, but Rudo can’t lie to save a life, so Gris just bites his lip. He hopes their conversation didn’t give him the wrong idea about Enjin or trying to talk to him. They’re so close, and Enjin might die if one of his kids hated him. He refrains from calling out his obvious lie, choosing to instead offer the kid a smile.
“Sounds good. I’m going to go check on Riyo. If you see Zanka around, can you call me?” He thumbs his choker, and Rudo watches him with tired eyes, but he nods. Then he pads off in the opposite direction of the mess hall, taking Umbreaker with him. Gris finds himself standing there alone, watching Rudo walk off by himself. He doesn’t want to follow him around like he's a ten-year-old, or pry, but he can’t help the anxiety that blossoms in his chest. The same kind of feeling he had when he’d found that smeared blood drop in his bathroom. Like something was going to go wrong.
He frowns, but continues down the hall against his better judgment. He’d check on him after Riyo, then he really did need to find Zanka.
The infirmary is dark now; the sun having set outside. He shuts behind him as quietly as he can, because he can see Riyo’s hunched over form from the doorway. She’s curled back up in her chair, and someone’s placed a blanket around her shoulders. It’s hard to make it out, but there’s another figure by Enjin’s bed.
Much to his surprise, it’s Zanka in the other chair. The teen hasn’t spotted him yet, staring down at his lap the way he was. Unlike Gris, he hadn’t changed out of his uniform yet, still fully dressed as if he were about to leave again. That thought brings him no comfort whatsoever, and he closes in, trying not to wake Riyo up. She needed her sleep; they all did really. The older teen doesn’t move, and he frowns. Upon closer inspection, Zanka’s leaned forward, his forehead pressed into Lovely, and he has the bottom of the staff trapped between his legs so she didn’t move.
He’s asleep, completely out cold. Gris stares at him for a moment, at a loss once more. These kids were going to be the death of him, or of themselves. He sighs, rubbing his eyes until they begin stinging. At least they’re sleeping now; he’ll take what he can get, he supposes. Maybe he’d go get them something to eat while they’re out; he’s pretty sure neither has been eating very well the last few days. Yeah, he could do that, drop it off and make sure they’re okay before finding Rudo, then finally retiring to his own bed for the evening. He looks around once more, frowning at both kids who just looked exhausted. He glances at all three of them, but he blinks, staring at Enjin who stares right back, familiar golden eyes meeting his own, barely open, but still open.
He looks like shit, but he’s got a lazy smile on his face. Gris feels his breath catch in his throat; all thoughts of getting food are abandoned as he steps forward and grabs Enjin’s hand. Gripping the appendage, Enjin’s fingers tremble slightly in his hold, even when he squeezes harder. The cleaner eyes their intertwined fingers before huffing quietly. He squeezes back, and Gris sucks in a deep breath.
Good morning, he mouths, and Enjin tilts his head at him, eyes narrowed, before nodding at the window.
It’s night, is what gets back, and Gris rolls his eyes. Always a smartass. Enjin breaks their hands apart, and Gris feels momentarily lost at the sudden gesture, but it’s quickly forgotten when he watches Enjin push himself upright. He’s utterly baffled when the guy actually tries to throw his legs over the edge, and he grabs the cleaner’s shoulder. He knows his face shows exactly what he’s thinking, but Enjin just waves him off. Gris tries to work around Zanka, tries not to be loud enough to wake up their resident paranoid sleeper on the other side of the bed, but that means he can’t quite get to Enjin. Much to his dismay, the guy’s already on his feet, yawning silently while stretching, like he’s just gotten out of bed for a normal day. Enjin pulls out his IV next, pinching the skin when blood beads at the small hole in his wrist. Is he out of his damn mind?
His face must be the spitting image of his thoughts, because Enjin chuckles, and he steps out from the other side of Zanka. This gives Gris full range of motion to grab at his arm, jerking his thumb at the bed, but Enjin dutifully ignores him. He is truly at a loss for words watching Enjin casually walk across the room to the drawer Eishia had been working in earlier, restocking and reorganizing. Gris looks back at the now empty bed before tiptoeing over to him and watches Enjin place a small cotton ball and a piece of medical tape over his bleeding wrist before nodding towards the exit. Like hell!
“Get back in bed,” he hisses, and even though they’re across the room, he swears Riyo’s entire body twitches at the noise. Enjin slaps a hand over Gris’ mouth before pressing a finger to his own lips.
“Shh.” Maybe he’s just hallucinating from a lack of sleep, and this is all some bullshit dream. Enjin closes the drawer before he pads across the floor with almost no noise. Enjin snags his coat off the coat rack by the door before he slips out into the hall.
Who is he kidding? Even if this wasn’t real, it’s more of a nightmare than a dream. Gris takes one more look at Riyo and Zanka before leaving as well. Enjin at least had the decency to wait for him, but he looked about ready to run off, his hands twitching wildly. He’s digging into the pockets of his jacket, brows furrowed every time he comes back empty handed. Gris hadn’t considered how being unconscious for a few days would affect his nicotine infested brain.
As much as he wishes Enjin would stop smoking altogether, or at least cut back, he can tell this isn’t quite the time. The supporter slips the pack out of his pocket, leaving the watch behind, and clears his throat. The cleaner looks at him, then eyes the pack.
“You know me so well,” he jokes, and Gris had missed him, his voice, that stupid smile he had on his face.
“Yeah, I know you’re an addict.” Enjin’s face falls flat, and he rolls his eyes, while Gris feels his own smile forming. He tosses the carton to him, and Enjin snatches it from the air, immediately pawing at the edge of the carton with trembling fingers. He can’t seem to work his nail under the small sticker, an aggrieved noise echoing in the hall when he misses the edge of the sticker again. Gris steps forward, and Enjin spares him a glance, wary. It’s easy to pry from his fingers, and even easier to peel the sticker sealing the box shut off. The carton pops open and he pulls a single one free, holding it out to him.
Enjin has found the lighter in his coat, and gingerly takes the stick before letting the flame do its job. The smell is instant, but almost comforting in a way. No one else here smokes as much as he does, so that scent is his alone, and smelling it now just reminds him that days ago he was barely alive. The thought sends chills up his spine. Enjin’s got a puff of smoke around his face, but it doesn’t deter him from stepping forward, wrapping his arms around Enjin’s middle and burying his face in the crook of his neck, letting the other’s warmth sink into him.
Enjin freezes, but both his arms settle at the bottom of his spine right away. He sucks in a deep breath and feels heat behind his eyes that he doesn’t bother chasing away. One of Enjin’s hands slides up his back, coming to rest on his nape. He squeezes gently, and Gris feels like he could go to sleep standing here.
“I’m okay, Gris.” The words are meant to be comforting; he knows they are from the way Enjin whispered them into his ear, but they bring him no comfort. How long until he’s coughing up blood again? What if whatever it is never goes away? What if this is what finally kills him? He grips the back of Enjin’s shirt tighter.
He doesn’t want to lose him.
“What if you aren’t?” he can’t help but ask. They must look silly standing in the middle of the hallway like this. The thought nearly makes him laugh despite the somber mood.
Enjin doesn’t answer him, doesn’t give Gris the false hope he almost craves, because he doesn’t know either. He twists his head, pressing his left ear into Enjin’s shoulder. What he doesn’t expect to see is a familiar set of red eyes from down the hall, peeking around the corner. Rudo’s staring, Umbreaker at his side. He must’ve decided he wanted to return her before running off again. Instead, the teen turns around without a word, vanishing behind the corner.
God, he needed a nap and for these two to sit down and have a damn conversation.