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Enjin never once categorized himself as a sloppy person. People might view him as such, but he personally never thinks of himself that way. If anything, he takes care of his things with so much care.
He never loses stuff because Enjin doesn't lose stuff, okay?
How can he, when he keeps his things so neatly?
One might view him as a very messy person, but his mess has its order, the kind that only Enjin can understand.
His room may appear like a disaster, but Enjin has never lost stuff because Enjin just doesn't.
For the first time, he may have changed that opinion soon.
"With how messy your room is, I wouldn't be surprised if someone mistakes yours as Rudo's," he hears the complaints. "You're just the same."
He pops his head out behind the bathroom door and catches Zanka sighing as he picks up magazines and clothes and crumpled paper of notes and empty cigarette boxes and—well, Enjin knows everything on the floor, but he has a system.
Believe him.
"We need to sanitize this room," Zanka sighs again.
Enjin can't help himself from opening the door wider, as he leans into it and smirks.
"Oh, we can definitely do that, Zanzan."
Zanka isn't affected. Or so Enjin thought, until the younger turned and saw him.
Like, really, really see him.
Enjin, who has been exclusively wearing turtlenecks because of the cold breeze in this area.
Enjin tries his best to keep his hands to himself because this is a mission, and he can be very much in control of himself, thank you.
Now, with Zanka himself coming into his motel room and chiding him for being messy, the fault is off Enjin's hands.
"You're insufferable," is Zanka's only response. But Enjin can tell, from the mere seconds of their interaction, that he has been heavily affected.
Because for the first time, Enjin doesn't shave.
He has lost his razor, can't find that little lifesaver anywhere in his bag, and even in the car. While the motel did provide the item, there's no way in hell Enjin uses that questionable thing.
This motel comes at a low price, not because of its hygienic standard—something that Zanka has repeatedly told him during their stay here.
Enjin doesn't really dislike the concept of having stubble, but he much prefers his face clean.
Zanka doesn’t seem to care, and Enjin lets the tragedy of his lost razor slip from his mind until Zanka freezes before Enjin, blue eyes hyperfixating on something that Enjin actually takes care of only when he doesn’t have to wear turtlenecks.
Enjin’s chest hair.
Enjin's affinity for wearing baggy t-shirts with a low neckline has taught him to keep his chest area smooth so his tattoos can stand out. He shaves regularly, but he can get very lazy when he doesn't have the opportunity to show off his tattoos.
And a chill breeze is one of the reasons.
He doesn't expect Zanka to practically ogle him before he looks away. Enjin recognizes that stare; he recognizes the action.
"Now that you're helping me clean my room," Enjin says. "Why don't you help me find my razor, too, Zanzan?"
Zanka freezes.
"I can't shave for days ever since I lost it," Enjin gives him a faux-annoyed sigh. "I feel so hairy."
He has to physically restrain his laugh when he hears Zanka making an unquestionable sound upon hearing his words.
"I'll try," Zanka responds, his voice sounds slightly weird.
Enjin grins, deciding to push his luck further by abandoning his towel, inching closer to Zanka, who has his back to him.
"Or you don't have to," he whispers, grabbing the younger's waist.
Zanka yelps, unprepared for the action that he ends up letting himself be pulled.
Fortunately to Enjin's chest, where the intricate black and red inks on his chest are now covered by a bed of soft blond hair.
Enjin is very pleased to hear Zanka's breath hitch at the sudden closeness.
"I think, Zanzan," his grin grows wider, "you like me losing my razor."