Work Text:
Rudo doesn’t usually like to go without the gloves.
They’re useful when he works—acting like a second skin, taking most of the strain.
Most days, they keep his hands from feeling like they’re in a constant state of burning.
And most days, that’s enough.
Today, it wasn’t.
The burning had gotten so strong he’d had to take them off, the residual sweat easing it just a little.
After that came the bandages, borrowed from Eishia, wrapped loose and uneven.
She’d looked concerned, but she hadn’t asked why.
Right now, Rudo was grateful for that.
The bandages dulled the ache, almost numbing if he didn’t focus on it too hard.
He was halfway through redoing one when Enjin passed his door.
Then stopped.
Rudo froze.
Enjin’s gaze lingered—focused, sharp. The kind that saw straight through excuses.
Rudo swallowed.
He thought about lying, about making it sound smaller than it was, but every explanation felt thin.
Enjin would know the moment he opened his mouth.
“…Can you?” He asked instead, awkward, holding his hands close.
He braced for a joke, or a question.
“I tried doing it myself, but…” He cut himself off before Regto’s name could surface. “I don’t think they’ll hold.”
Enjin didn’t say anything. He stepped inside, nudged the door shut with his foot, and sat on the bed.
He took the bandage from Rudo and motioned for him to watch.
Rudo did.
Enjin’s hands were steady—practiced. Not too careful, not too rough.
When Rudo flinched, he adjusted without comment.
Regto’s easy smile flickered in Rudo’s mind.
He pushed it away. Didn’t quite succeed. Still, his shoulders loosened.
Enjin hummed absently as he worked, never once asking about the color of Rudo’s hands.
When he finished, he gave the wrap a small testing tug.
Rudo hissed.
“Be more alert next time, kiddo,” Enjin huffed.
That was all.
Rudo nodded, throat tight, and pulled his gloves back on once the pain dulled, Enjin watching quietly.
Breathing came easier after that.
The head pat helped.