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Enjin waits.
The clock ticks.
And Enjin waits.
He sighs and tries to fluff his pillow or some bullshit. Not that it was anything fancy enough to fluff in the first place. He reaches down to his discarded coat on the ground and rummages through the pocket to retrieve his pack of cigs and lighter, his saving grace when his thoughts get too deep, too wild, and, honestly, a little depressing for him to bear. He brings the cigarette to his lips and skillfully lights it. That first inhale is the equivalent of ascension compared to the day of utter nothingness he's faced. Why is Enjin so deep in his misery? Well, it's his day off, and he should be jumping for joy, but the problem is that his person isn't here. Who is his person?
Gris.
Gris Rubion is his person. Has been since they first met, and even more so since making things official. Enjin got a day off, but Gris got sent off on a job, and he didn't expect it to affect him, but it did. It does because he can only bother Semiu for so long before she tells him to fuck off and let her do her job. Before Gris, he did many things to keep his mind at ease. Things he wasn't exactly proud of, just so he could have a warm body next to him. Now? All he wants is Gris. He feels overwhelmingly needy, which is ironic, but here he is. Needy as hell. He needs Gris here so his mind can slow down just a little bit. That's all he needs.
He tries to get comfortable, letting the nicotine bring him some peace, but that damn clock on the wall keeps ticking away, aggravating Enjin's very soul. He's not usually this antsy, he swears! But today… he just needs… a lot. He needs a lot right now. The sun is beginning to set, and he's wondering where the hell Gris is. Then, the doorknob jiggles, and the door creaks open. Enjin didn't realize how tense he was until he felt his muscles start to relax at the sight of Gris walking in, freshly showered, dirty clothes in hand. The corners of his mouth quirk up as he takes another hit.
"I'm home," Gris says with such a soft yet tired smile. Enjin watches as he dumps his clothes into the laundry bin and makes his way over to where Enjin lies. He climbs onto the bed and makes his way between Enjin's legs. He spreads his legs a bit to make room for Gris's broad body, and watches as Gris slightly lifts his shirt to press a light kiss on his navel tattoo. Enjin hums at the touch and reaches with his unoccupied hand to brush a loose strand of hair away from Gris's face.
"You used the community showers," Enjin observes, taking in the scent of the generic bar of soap that radiates off of Gris. What Enjin doesn't say is that he expected Gris to walk in, try to kiss him, trash and all, and for him to make a joke about not having his outside clothes on the bed. That and he really wanted to hear Gris hum while using Enjin's shower. Gris lets out an amused sigh, tracing along Enjin's tattoo.
"You wouldn't want me walking in here if I didn't. That trash beast we were up against was no joke. Three words: Foul. Smelling. Sludge," Gris groans as he softly face plants onto Enjin's stomach. Enjin exhales smoke with a chuckle and playfully pats Gris on the hand.
"Awww, stink stink."
"Don't."
"My bad."
Gris lifts his head to shoot Enjin a heatless glare, which quickly dissolves into the sweetest smile that causes so many butterflies to fly around in Enjin's stomach he's afraid they'll all come spilling out when he opens his mouth. They stay like this for a moment, gazing into each other's eyes with bright smiles. Enjin takes another hit, and he notices how Gris pays attention to the way he exhales the smoke. The smoke escapes the cracked window because, despite how fond Gris is of Enjin's cigarette scent, Enjin refuses to have the whole place fogged up. Enjin raises his cig and quirks an eyebrow as an offering, and Gris declines with a soft shake of the head. Enjin hums and taps some ash off the tip into the ashtray sitting on the nightstand next to him.
"I missed you," Enjin says rather lamely, only to conceal his true emotions, of course. He guesses the habit of faking nonchalance has yet to fully leave his system. Gris, being Gris, reads him like an open book. In fact, he's convinced that Gris reads Enjin like he's his favorite book. The book has several pages ripped and rearranged, some lines are even scribbled out, but Gris comes back time and time again to read it.
"I hope you didn't get too lonely while I was away," Gris murmurs, leaning into the touch of Enjin's hand as it moves to cup his cheek. Enjin is so fond of this man that it hurts. Hurts in a good way. He can't help how honesty starts to spill out of him. When he looks at the shine of Gris's eyes, it does something to him. It makes him want to be honest. It makes him want to open up. Even if it's a little bit.
"I was," Enjin breathes out another puff of smoke, cig almost fully out. If Gris wasn't by his side right now, he probably would've lit another one to pass the time. Gris hums, and a look of concern spreads on his face.
"Is something wrong?"
"I don't know." Enjin really doesn't know. He hates not knowing what's going on, but he's lost in this dystopian maze that is his mind, and he's itching to get out. Enjin would say that Umbreaker is his way out of this sick and twisted nightmare of horrid thoughts that haunt him, but even she has needs. Everyone needs a shining moon to help guide them to the right path. Enjin feels himself tense up again, but quickly lets go when Gris plants another chaste kiss on his tattoo. He's too good to Enjin. He's too good for Enjin.
"Don't think too hard, you'll hurt yourself," Gris jokes, effectively lifting the mood.
"Asshole," Enjin snorts. Gris grins and chuckles at the very affectionate insult.
"I thought you loved it when I got a little mean?" Gris teases.
"Don't start with me."
"You love me."
"Always will." Enjin lets the words tumble out effortlessly. It's crazy how far he's come from denying himself happiness to letting the personification of the word lie between his legs. Maybe Gris was right. Maybe he shouldn't think too hard. Maybe these thoughts that plague him don't necessarily have to have a rhyme or reason, but perhaps he can just feel them for the moment. Perhaps, he can feel Gris for the moment. He can feel the way Gris's heavy build melts into his own body, the weight bringing him great comfort. Enjin smokes the remainder of his cigarette and snuffs out the rest in the ashtray. He looks down at Gris with all the love he can muster, and Gris shares that same look. Yeah, he can definitely get used to feeling this way.
"The kids didn't run you ragged, right?" Enjin teases. Gris lets out an amused huff and gives Enjin's hand a soft squeeze.
"They always try to, but they actually were very pleasant today. Rudo and Zanka only had one argument, Riyo barely instigated it, Follo was only in mild distress, and Tomme's reckless note-taking didn't cause her to get hit by mystery goop. Oh, and of course, they missed you, mommy dearest," Gris quips, successfully swatting away Enjin's other hand that was on the way to flick his forehead for that last comment.
"They wouldn't have had to miss me if Semiu just sent me off with you guys. I'm perfectly fine!" Enjin exclaims with a pout. It deepens as Gris raises a judgmental brow. Ok, maybe not perfectly fine, but throwing himself at a job with his team would have totally solved the mess he's feeling right now. The mess he can't fucking uncover, no matter how hard he tries… he's not fine.
"You've been having trouble sleeping these last few weeks. More than usual. You know that when it gets like that, your performance suffers and you can't think straight. That's when Semiu really has to interfere. She cares a lot about you. You wouldn't want her to stop caring, now would you?" Gris lectures, and Enjin lets out a frustrated groan.
"Of course not. You're right, as usual. I just… I don't know, Gris. I needed people. Everyone was busy, and I needed people. I needed you. Today, I really need you… Does that sound crazy?" Enjin hopes he doesn't sound crazy. He hates to admit how desperate he's gotten ever since he entered this relationship with Gris. Has he ever even been in a committed relationship before Gris? No way, nothing could nor can ever come close to this feeling. Gris climbs his way up Enjin's torso to press his forehead against his. His eyes are the most beautiful shade of blue. Enjin can't breathe looking at those beauties.
"Well, I'm here now. What do you need from me?" Everything. Enjin doesn't say that, though.
"Lay here with me, big guy." And with that, Gris rolls over to his side and holds Enjin close to him. This is nice. This is bliss. This is what Enjin really needs. Enjin honestly is more than happy to just lie in this bed forever and not come out. Not for any sexual reasons, but this touch electrifies him. It puts him on cloud nine. Where he is with Gris, it feels like home. "Say," Enjin begins, a small grin dawning upon his face, "you think you could build us a house?"
It's a joke, of course, but Gris hums in deep thought, then peppers kisses all over Enjin's face, eliciting a series of giggles from him. Once Gris plants his final kiss on Enjin's lips. "I'd build you a house, a condo, and a cute one-bedroom apartment right where your heart is." He affirms that last part by placing his palm over Enjin's heart, and Enjin feels himself start to melt at the touch.
"You're such a fucking sap, Grissy," he teases, a faint hint of pink fresh on his cheeks.
"You make me this way, Jin," Gris sighs, and Enjin wraps his arms around him, and Gris reciprocates so they're nothing more than a tangle of limbs on the bed.
Enjin starts to drift off to sleep, and suddenly, those pesky thoughts that were disrupting his mood don't seem to matter anymore. All that matters is him, Gris, and this bed. All that matters is his home.