Work Text:
Fan art by eXXska_1
But being with you will end up getting to my head
Like red rubies in my mouth
But I'll tell you right now, don't come here if
You're only looking for a thrill, you'll only leave a bruise
It was late, and the headquarters building was usually quiet, with the exception of the low hum of the ventilation shafts. A few cleaners were still scattered around the main table, they were going through gear checks or play cards under the dim overhead lights.
No one paid much attention when the door closed, except for a quick look up to acknowledge the Akuta's Leader return.
Enjin threw his jacket onto the back of a wooden chair and stretched his arms above his head, making a lazy noise. His collar was loosened, the top buttons undone, revealing a small red stain just below the lapel of his jacket a clear, noticeable smudge of lipstick.
The older members of the group either looked away, had become used to his habits, or were too tired to care. Nobody teased him and nobody said anything. It was just Enjin being himself. He had just another night out in the red light districts doing whatever he did when he wasn't fighting.
Zanka sat in the corner of the room, leaning back in an old armchair that was very worn out, a well-loved paperback was open on his knee. He hadn't looked up when the door opened, but his eyes had followed the movement automatically.
The red mark caught his eye right away.
The boy held the book tightly but he didn't say anything. He looked back down at the printed lines, tracing the same sentence three times without understanding any of the words. The paper felt rough against his thumbs, cold and dry, very different from the thick, humid air that Enjin brought in with him.
The Akuta leader walked over to the counter and poured himself a cup of warm water from the kettle. "Still awake, kid?" he asked, his voice sounding rough and low because it was night outside.
Zanka didn't look up. He made a quiet, bored noise and turned the page slowly, as if the black ink on the yellowed paper was the only thing worth paying attention to.
Enjin moved with a slight wobble, not exaggerated, but noticeable enough that his center of gravity shifted half an inch with every step. He dragged a chair across the floor, the legs making a loud noise against the uneven stone, and turned it around. He straddled it backward, resting his folded arms over the top of the backrest, his long legs planted wide on either side.
He didn't say anything. He just sat there, chin resting on his crossed arms, staring at the side of Zanka's face with a unblinking gaze. His golden eyes were slightly bloodshot. They traced the sharp line of Zanka's jaw, the slight twitch in his temple, and the way his fingers dug into the book's pages.
Zanka kept his eyes on the middle of the page for almost twenty seconds. The silence between them felt heavy and uncomfortable, they could only hear the distant sound of a leaky pipe in the hallway.
The stare was so intense that it became unbearable. Zanka closed the book, and the sound of it hitting the pages echoed through the quiet room like a small gunshot. He didn't look up right away; his shoulders went forward, and his jaw went into a tight, stiff line.
Zanka turned his head slowly, his navu blue eyes narrowing into a flat glare. His voice was quiet, but it sounded a little angry. "What do you want, Enjin?"
Enjin didn't flinch. A slow, lazy smile appeared on one side of his mouth, and the faint red stain on his collar caught the dim light of the overhead bulb as he tilted his head. "I'm just looking, kid. I'm trying to see if that book is actually interesting or if you're just using it as a shield."
Zanka shifted against the worn leather of the armchair, the ancient metal springs creaking beneath his weight. He didn't break eye contact, though his jaw tightened just enough to show the gesture was taking effort. He kept his thumb jammed into the paperback to hold his place, lowering the book until it rested flat against his knee.
"If I wanted to hide behind something… I’d pick something a hell of a lot thicker than three hundred pages of trash," Zanka said, his voice dropping into a casual drawl. He didn't raise it, but the sarcasm cut through clear enough. "Don't you have better things to do than sit there staring at me? Go sleep it off or something."
Enjin didn't budge. He just grinned wider, resting his chin heavier against his crossed arms on the chair back, his golden eyes glinting under the harsh overhead bulb. "Nah. Everyone else is half-dead or already out cold. You're the only one keeping me company, ZanZan."
Zanka let out a short, quiet breath through his nose, slumping back an inch into the leather. "…Lucky me."
Enjin puffed out his chest and slouching further over the wooden chair, letting his head flop back with a fake groan. "Look at you. Cold as ice," he complained, speaking slowly and in a dramatic way. "I come back after a long night, exhausted, looking for a little camaraderie, and my favorite partner acts like I'm completely invisible. You're hurtin' my feelings, Zanka. Truly. Where’s the respect? Where’s the warmth?"
Zanka didn't move, but the knuckle holding the edge of his book turned white. He stared at the floor between them, breathing quickly and with little depth.
"Warmth?" Zanka spoke more quietly this time, trying to maintain a controlled tone in his voice. He looked up, his eyes looking directly at Enjin's face, sharp and intense. "You smell like shit and perfume at the same time, Enjin. You've got lipstick smeared across your damn collar, you can barely sit up straight, and you walk in here expecting me to just laugh it off while you parade around whatever night you just had."
He dropped the book on the side table with a thud, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, and glared at the older man. "You want warmth? Go back to the person who left that mark on you. Don't come here acting like I'm the problem just because I don't want to listen to you brag."
Enjin didn't back down when Zanka glared at him. Instead, his mouth twitched, and he grinned half-smile as he tilted his head back and looked at Zanka's face. He put more of his weight onto the backrest of the chair. He was not bothered by the sudden increase in tension.
"Red lips, kid," Enjin said in a relaxed and honest way, his voice reflecting the effects of alcohol. "I can't help it. Whenever I see a pair of them painted bright red, I think, "Damn." It reminds me of rubies. Shining, expensive, impossible to ignore."
Zanka's jaw tightened so much that a faint muscle twitched under his skin. He looked at the captain, his chest moving up and down in fast, controlled breaths as he thought about how stupid (and how careless) the answer was.
"Rubies," Zanka repeated flatly, his voice dropping into a quiet tone. He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his thighs, and looked at Enjin with his blue eyes. "You came back here at two in the morning, half-naked, smelling like a flower shop, just to lecture me on your gemstone fetish?"
Enjin let out a quiet laugh, a low, rumbling sound in his chest, completely unfazed as he casually scratched the back of his neck. "I'm just answering the question, ZanZan. You asked."
Zanka let out a sharp breath through his nose. He reached down to pick up his book from the side table. His fingers gripped the worn cover tightly as he forced himself to sit back into the leather chair.
He didn't say anything more about it. He knew it was useless. Enjin knew exactly how Zanka felt—he had known for months—but he kept acting silly, hiding behind big smiles, cheap drinks, and jokes that didn't really get at anything. If they continued, it would just lead to a bunch of nonsense, and Zanka didn't have the energy to deal with it.
"I'm going to sleep. Goodnight."
Enjin didn't answer right away. His eyes followed Zanka's movements with a silent, intense look. The younger boy turned around and started walking toward the bedrrooms. He felt Enjin's eyes on him the whole way, following him until he turned the corner into the dark hallway.
He stopped in front of a door near the end of the hall. A thin strip of yellow light leaked out from the bottom gap, which stood out against the dark wooden frame. Zanka raised a hand and knocked twice, making a loud but deliberate sound against the heavy paneling.
A few seconds later, the door swung inward. Riyo stood in the doorway. The bright, warm lighting of her room made her stand out. She was wearing a loose cotton shirt, her hair was pinned up, and she was holding a magazine. She blinked at him, tilting her head slightly as she noticed his tense posture and the shadow under his eyes. "Zanka? What are you doing up? Do you need something?"
Zanka spoke quietly and looked back at the empty hallway before looking at her. "Can I talk to you for a minute? In private."
The girl put her magazine down on the blanket, pulled her legs up, and tucked them under her long cotton shirt. She looked at Zanka with wide, curious eyes, her expression changing from sleepy indifference to sharp interest. "In private? Zanka, it's two in the morning. Did you have a bad dream?"
Zanka closed the door behind him with a quiet click, resting his back against the wall. Then he cleared his throat and looked around, but he didn't look at her. First, he looked at the mess on her desk. Then, he looked at the colorful posters on the brick wall.
"No. Nothing like that," he began, lowering his voice so it wouldn't echo through the thin door. He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "Do you have red lipstick?"
Riyo blinked, looking confused. "Red lipstick? I don't usually wear it. But..." She leaned over toward her vanity, searching through a clear plastic organizer filled with small tubes and brushes. "I think I have some of that Halloween makeup left over. Why?"
She pulled out a small, black, cylindrical tube and held it up between two fingers like a piece of evidence. Zanka looked at the tube for a moment, his jaw tightened. He took a small step forward and took a deep breath through his nose. "Can you show me how to put it on?"
The girl with red hair stopped moving, her arm still up in the air. For a long time, the only sound in the room was the small desk fan making a quiet, regular clicking noise. She was about to ask if he was pulling a prank, but she stopped when she saw how serious Zanka was. She looked at his nervous shoulders and the slight color that was spreading up the back of his neck. Then she remembered the uneven footsteps that had sounded down the hall just ten minutes earlier. It was Enjin coming back from his night out.
Little by little, the pieces of the puzzle fit together in her mind. Her eyes opened wide, and she grinned, looking like she knew something.
"Oh," Riyo said softly, amused, as she twirled the tube of lipstick in her hand. "Oh, wow. Okay, Zanka, sit down. We need to talk, but first... sit."
Riyo tilted her head, her playful smirk softening into something a bit more genuine as she looked at Zanka. She leaned back against her bed, twirling the small black tube of lipstick between her fingers before putting it on the nightstand.
"You know, Zanka," she began, her tone light but warm, free of any teasing edge, "you're actually a good-looking guy. You don't need makeup to get someone's attention."
Zanka moved uncomfortably, crossing his arms over his chest, and looked at the edge of her rug.
"And honestly?" Riyo kept going, resting her chin in her hand as a small, thoughtful smile appeared on her face. "I just never thought you would do something like this to get noticed by... well, someone."
Zanka let out a quiet sigh through his nose, his shoulders dropping half an inch as he met her gaze. "It's not…. It's frustrating."
Riyo let out a soft sigh, shaking her head and laughing a little as she unscrewed the cap. "Okay, fine. Stop fidgeting and acting like you're about to be fired."
Zanka paused for a moment before going to the edge of the bed and sitting stiffly on the wooden chair next to her vanity. He stood up straight, his shoulders were back, and he looked at the wall in front of him.
Riyo suddenly reached out and grabbed Zanka's jaw with her left hand. Her thumb was pressing firmly against his cheekbone, keeping his head in place. Her touch was surprisingly firm, holding him in place before he could pull away.
"Relax your lips," she instructed, her voice dropping into a practical, focused tone as she brought the tip of the red lipstick up to his mouth. "Don't press them together like that. You're making it impossible."
Zanka took a deep breath, his throat moving against her grip, but he relaxed his face. The lipstick felt cold and strange against his skin as she dragged the red bullet across his bottom lip in a precise, measured stroke.
"Start from the middle and work your way to the corners," Riyo said quietly, focusing on the shape as she drew the line. "If you try to swipe it all in one go, you're going to smudge it past the edges. Keep your mouth slightly open."
She tilted his chin up a little so that the warm light from the desk lamp would hit him. Her fingers were steady as she filled in the upper lip, carefully tracing the cupid's bow. "Don't press too hard. It's cream, not chalk. You just need enough pressure to spread the pigment evenly."
She put the end of the tube in place with a sharp click and took a step back to check her work. "There. Look in the mirror."
Zanka tilted his head slightly and stared at his reflection. The difference was clear: his pale skin, sharp jawline, and usual serious expression were set off by the rich, vivid red painted neatly across his mouth. He lifted a finger, stopping just a little bit from his lower lip without touching it.
"What do you think he'd say?" Zanka asked quietly, sounding unsure. He didn't say Enjin's name, but the question hung heavily between them in the small room.
Riyo tilted her head, watching him from her spot on the edge of the bed and her expression softened. The teasing amusement she had shown at first gave way to a more practical, calm support. She gently tapped the small black tube against the edge of the desk and pushed it toward him.
"Honestly? He's an idiot if he doesn't notice," Riyo said softly, her tone completely serious. She smiled a little as Zanka looked down at the tube. "Keep it. Think of it as a gift. Just try not to smudge it before you figure out what you're trying to tell him."
Zanka looked at the lipstick for a long time. Then he picked it up and put it in the pocket of his pants. "Thanks, Riyo."
The door to the room closed with a quiet thud, blocking out the light and sound from the hallway. The window was open a little bit, letting in the damp summer air and the quiet sound of the area below.
Zanka stood still in the center of the floor for a long time, his thumb resting against the plastic casing of the tube he had put in his pocket. He didn't turn on the main light. Then, he slowly walked over to the sink and leaned his hands on the porcelain edge. He lifted his head and looked at his reflection in the dim light.
The bright red line across his lips looked awful in the quiet privacy of his room. It wasn't bold or confident; it looked like an open wound against his pale skin. It looked like a desperate, pathetic attempt to fit into someone else's idea of what was worth noticing.
He felt a wave of heat rush to his face, a mix of embarrassment and extreme tiredness. Finally, he raised his right hand and made a fist. Then, he slammed the back of his hand across his mouth. He rubbed the skin hard across his lips a few times, trying to remove the color in one quick movement.
The lipstick didn't come off completely. Instead, the cream spread across his cheek and chin, leaving a streak of dark, messy red across his jawline.
Zanka looked at the mirror. His reflection looked even worse: a mess. He touched his chin with the back of his hand, pressing hard enough to make the skin under his chin turn bright pink, but the red stain only spread further, clinging to his skin.
He felt his breath catch in his chest. His eyes stung, and tears welled up suddenly and heavily. The room turned into soft shadows and light. He stopped breathing, held his knees and bit his teeth, refusing to let any water fall.
A soft, slow creak came from the door.
Zanka stopped moving, his back still turned, his knuckles gripping the edge of the porcelain sink so tightly that his skin turned white. He didn't need to look up to know who it was. The slow footsteps stopped just inside the door.
Enjin took a step forward, the tired, drunk look in his eyes went away, and he focused sharply as he stepped into the dim light of the moon that came through the glass.
He looked directly at Zanka. The bright red lipstick wasn't smooth anymore. It was smeared across Zanka's lower lip, and it had spread to his jawline and chin, creating a messy, jagged line. The skin under the hair was red and raw where Zanka had tried to scrub it with the back of his hand.
Zanka stopped moving and stood very still next to the porcelain bathtub. His hands were very cold, and his fingers were white. He held the edge of the bathtub very tightly. His chest moved up and down in short, uneven breaths, and his eyes were wide and angry. They had tears in them, and they caught the blue light.
"Zanka," Enjin said gently, his voice sounding less boisterous than usual, becoming deeper and more resonant.
He closed the distance between them before Zanka could back away. Enjin reached out, his hand coming up to gently touch the side of Zanka's jaw, his thumb resting right at the edge of the red mark. His skin felt warm, and it smelled a little like tobacco.
The younger boy took a step back, his jaw tightened, and he tried to pull away. But Enjin held him firm, not with force, but with an unyielding presence.
"Don't," Zanka said, his voice cracking a little before he caught himself. He looked up at the older man, his pride hurt, but his eyes showed stubborn, desperate courage. "Don't look at me like that."
Enjin didn't pull away. Instead, he gently moved his thumb across Zanka's lower lip, spreading the remaining pigment further, his touch impossibly soft against the inflamed skin.
"You really did this, didn't you?" Enjin said quietly, looking at the red stain on his thumb. Then he looked directly at Zanka. The playful arrogance was gone, replaced by something quiet and unavoidable.
"I know," Zanka said, his voice sounding tired and rough. "I know I don't look like a fancy ruby. I'm not a pretty lady, I don't smell very good, and I'm definitely not what you're used to looking for when you go out."
He lifted his hand and grabbed Enjin's wrist. He didn't pull the leader's hand away; instead, he held it right there, anchoring Enjin's palm against his jawline over the red stain.
"But I'm here," Zanka continued, his blue eyes fixed firmly on Enjin's. "I'm the one who's actually standing in front of you while you drag yourself back in the middle of the night. So if you want red, Enjin... this is as good as it gets."
Enjin didn't pull his wrist back. His eyes opened a little more as he looked down at Zanka's angry, smeared face. They sat in silence, the air thick with tension. The faint smell of tobacco and flower parfume hung in the air.
Enjin didn't say anything for a long time but he kept his big hand on Zanka's jaw. His thumb, covered in rough skin, held the smeared red stain in place, pressing it against the skin that had turned pink. His dark eyes, usually full of lazy amusement, were fixed on Zanka's face. The pale light of the late-night sky cut across the small space, highlighting the tension in Zanka's jaw and the moisture at the edges of his lower lids.
"As good as it gets, huh?" Enjin spoke quietly, his voice low and gentle.
Enjin slightly changed the way he held Zanka. His fingers moved from Zanka's jaw to the back of his neck. His palm was warm and strong against the tight muscles there. He pulled Zanka closer, closing the space between them until the faint smell of tobacco and alcohol reached him.
"You really think I came back here just to chase some pretty color?" Enjin asked gently. A faint, crooked smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, but it didn't look mocking. It was quieter, more serious, and focused. "You think I care about some red paint?"
Zanka felt like he needed to swallow hard, and his fingers held Enjin's wrist tightly, but he didn't let go.
Enjin lifted his hand and gently rubbed the edge of Zanka's lower lip with his index finger. He slowly rubbed the pigment off the edge of the lip until it was completely blended with the skin. "Being with you... yeah, it's too much for me too. It's like holding red rubies in my mouth... sharp, heavy, and dangerous if I'm not careful."
He leaned down slightly, his golden eyes locking onto Zanka's blue ones with a serious expression.
"So don't think I came through that door just looking for a quick thrill," Enjin said, his thumb pressing firmly on the center of Zanka's bottom lip. "If I only wanted something easy to pass the time, I would’ve stayed out. I wouldn't be standing here, looking at someone who looks like he wants to put a blade through my chest."
Zanka breathed slowly and with tension through his nose. His shoulders were finally starting to relax under the strong pressure of Enjin's grip.
"Don't leave a bruise, Enjin" Zanka said in a low voice. His gray eyes remained wide and unwavering.
Enjin didn't respond. He just held Zanka's neck tightly, keeping him still in the dark room.