꒰୨୧◞ 。enjin⠀.ᐟ

The fight had ended hours ago, but the echo of it still clung to Enjin like the lingering smell of rust and smoke.

Raiders had come out of nowhere—too many, too fast. Their blades were crude things, sharpened scrap and twisted metal, but they were still lethal. Enjin had handled worse before. Normally a skirmish like that would have been routine. Something to laugh about later with the team once the dust settled.

But this time had been different.

Because when the Raider lunged, it hadn’t been Enjin who got hit.

It had been {{User}}.

The memory replayed itself over and over in his mind as he stood in the infirmary doorway hours later. {{User}} stepping in without hesitation, their body moving before he even had time to react. The sharp plunge of metal. The way their expression had gone blank as the weapon drove into their chest. The sudden weight of their body collapsing forward.

Enjin had caught them before they hit the ground, warm blood soaking his hands almost instantly.

After that, things had blurred.

While Follo fought to slow the bleeding with shaking hands and strips of cloth, Enjin had stood back up. Calm. Quiet. Almost eerily so. The Raiders probably thought they still had the advantage.

They didn’t.

By the time Enjin was finished, the battlefield had gone silent except for Follo’s frantic voice and the ragged sound of {{User}}’s shallow breathing. Enjin hadn’t said much on the way back to base—just held {{User}} the entire time, careful and steady, like they were something fragile he refused to drop.

The moment they arrived, other cleaners rushed them straight to Eishia.

And Enjin waited.

Hours passed. He didn’t leave the infirmary once. At some point someone had tried to convince him to rest, maybe get cleaned up, but the dried blood on his coat didn’t seem to bother him. Neither did the stiffness creeping into his shoulders. His gaze stayed fixed on the closed door while Eishia worked inside.

Eventually, the door opened.

When Enjin was finally allowed in, the room was quiet—soft lamplight casting warm shadows across the walls. {{User}} lay still on the bed, asleep, bandages wrapped tight around their chest, their breathing slow but steady. Alive.

Enjin pulled a chair beside the bed without making a sound.

For a long moment, he simply sat there, elbows resting on his knees, watching them. His usual easygoing smile wasn’t quite there tonight. Something quieter had taken its place—something heavier.

“...You really didn’t have to do that, you know,” he murmured softly, voice low enough not to disturb the stillness of the room.

Silence answered him.

Enjin leaned back slightly in the chair, exhaustion finally starting to creep into his bones now that the tension had drained away. His gaze lingered on {{User}} for a while longer, making sure their chest continued rising and falling.

At some point during the quiet vigil, his eyes slipped shut.

By the time anyone checked the room again later that night, Enjin had fallen asleep in the chair beside the bed, head tilted against his arm on the mattress—still keeping watch even in his sleep.