Work Text:
“So I’m assuming you didn’t hear.”
“Gob died this morning.”
Those words seemed to bounce around Enjin’s head no matter how many glasses he downed. He doesn’t know how many hours it’s been since he’s entered the bar, and frankly, he doesn’t want to. He knows he should leave, he really should, but how can he bring himself to care about the aftereffects of an alcohol binge right now? He didn’t care. He couldn’t. Because this was coping. Self-destruction was the only form of comfort that Enjin knew.
He could drink until he puked, smoke until he passed out, or run until he collapsed and still refuse to admit that he was feeling anything. Everyone noticed, noticed the nights he smoked more, or drank far more than he should.
Because that’s who Enjin was. He let people notice, not know. Emotions weren’t something Enjin did; everyone knew that. Everyone would notice if he was angry or disappointed, but they would never know for sure. And Enjin liked it like that.
Sure,e it wasn’t healthy, but it kept up his persona, which most of the time is all that mattered.
But this time,e someone was dead. These weren’t petty feelings he was feeling. This was grief. Or maybe it was anger. Or maybe it was something both in between and outside of everything he knows how to feel.
He should be used to this. People he has connections to die weekly. There hasn’t been a deathless week in years. So why is this so…different? Why is this feeling something different, something gross and unfamiliar?
But every time he got close to getting anywhere with his thoughts, he drowned them in whiskey.
Enjin knew the root. He knew it too well; he knew why losing Gob was so much worse than just another connection, but that thought was alien. Unmarked territory, a part of his mind scarier than No Man’s Land.
He was suddenly snapped out of his spiraling thoughts by the bartender motioning to his glass, half asking if he wanted more, half asking him if he was done. He mumbled a few words, but Enjin couldn’t hear them over his own thoughts. He just simply placed a few more coins on the counter and slid the glass over.
This whole situation was fucked. And he felt like a cuck being forced to watch his emotions and his mind fuck each other over.
Suddenly, the barstool next to him scooted across the floor, and someone sat right next to him. “So, what is this, your sixth glass of the night? That’s gonna be a wicked hangover, ya’ know.” The woman started.
He didn’t even need to look up to know it was Semiu. He knew that disapproving voice anywhere.
“I didn’t know you came to bars.” Enjin chuckled over his cup before taking a long sip.
“And I didn’t know Gob died until about an hour ago, so I suppose we both don’t know anything.” Semiu said, it was said bluntly, the words fell flat like a joke that didn’t stick.
She sighed before asking, “This is about Gob, right?”
He let out a scoff, “What do you mean by ‘this’?”
“Don’t play games with me, Enjin, it’s not every day you run your pockets dry and get shitfaced.”
Enjin took another sip of his drink, he swallowed slowly and let the liquor burn his throat. He hated how easy Semiu could read him.
He didn’t know how to respond; he knew damn well this was about Gob. And he knew everyone, and their momma knew this alcohol spree was about Gob. And he hated that. He hated when people knew.
“Let’s go somewhere else, one more glass, and you’ll be carrying me out of here.” Enjin sighed, taking the last gulp of his drink and standing up to leave.
“Good, I wasn’t planning on drinking tonight anyway.” Semiu smirked.
His footsteps fell heavy as he trudged towards the door. He felt like hot shit. The alcohol was bubbling in his stomach, threatening to force its way out.
“You look like shit, Enjin.” Semiu stated bluntly, holding the door open for Enjin to step outside.
The cold breeze against his skin instantly sent shivers down his spine. It normally doesn’t get that cold on the ground, so he has to be really heated up for the outside to feel that shocking.
“Let’s get something to eat, yeah?” Enjin looked at Semiu, hoping for a look of approval.
From Semius' eyes, he even looked pitiful. The Enjin, the leader of team Akuta, was standing shitfaced in front of her, asking for her approval to get something to eat in the middle of the night.
Goodness, if this were any other situation, Semiu probably would have laughed at him for his alcohol tolerance, told him off for being irresponsible. But she knew better in this situation.
When they finally reach the only food place open this time of night, Enjin might as well be half dead. He’s slumped over and mumbling barely comprehensible sentences that would have a seasoned alcoholic scratching their head.
And when Enjin gets to a chair, he immediately slumps, head thrown back, drool coming down from the corner of his mouth, and snoring loudly.
Gosh this was pathetic.
As Semiu walked around to her seat, she smacked Enjin upside the head before sitting down to bring him back to reality.
Enjin immediately perked up, groaning and rubbing the part of his head where Semiu hit.
“Are you down for a smoke?” Semiu asked, pulling two smokes out of seemingly nowhere.
“Where did you- never mind, actually, yeah.” Enjin groaned, taking one of the blunts from between Semius's fingers.
Semiu lit her smoke and took a long drag before handing the lighter over to Enjin. He lit his so quickly she barely heard the lighter flick. Goodness, just how bad was he trying to feel tomorrow?
They sat in silence for an awkward amount of time. Enjin didn’t even notice the silence; he just took puff after puff, letting the weed melt through his body, unwinding the tension he’s been building up for hours.
Enjin didn't feel like himself right now; he felt vulnerable and…open? He didn’t know the word to describe it; he felt like even without words, every piece of his mind was on display for everyone who walked by to dissect.
“I was always reminding him to wear his mask, you know.” Enjin began.
“I told him all the time, ‘Gob, please just wear your mask.’ And every time this asshole would just laugh and mumble some half-assed agreement.” Enjin chuckled, taking a long drag of his smoke.
“And I told him. I told him so many times, ‘Gob, I don’t want to lose you, or your art, just put on the mask.” Enjin sighed.
That sentence grabbed Semius' attention fast.
“And I followed him as often as I could, ya’ know, he’s actually the reason I started bringing a second mask around, hell, he’s half the reason Rudo is alive.” Enjin said.
“But damn, he had spirit.” The sentence came out a bit choked.
“That spirit was something fierce, something even I don’t think I could keep up to.”
Semiu was starting to see the picture he was painting.
“Goodness, he was an amazing drinking buddy.” Enjin chuckled, taking a long drag of his blunt.
“And his art, goodness no wonder he was the face of Canvas Town. And he never even got to finish teaching me to finish spray painting one of those stupid fancy E’s he does.” Enjin sighed.
“What I would give for just one more painting.” Enjin scoffed, taking a drag.
Semiu sat there, staring at him for a long while. Enjin didn’t even seem to notice; he looked like he was in another world. He might as well have been.
“There was this one time,” Enjin began, chuckling a little bit.
“He got so shitfaced from inhaling paint fumes he fell right into my arms after painting, it was stupid and awkward.” Enjin sighed.
“But I miss if ya’ know.” He sighed softly.
“I miss holding him, I miss finding him out in a polluted zone covered in paint,” His voice cracking a little.
“I miss drinking with him; he had such a horrible alcohol tolerance.” Enjin laughed.
“I should have just reminded him to wear the mask one more time.” Enjin said his voice was barely above a whisper.
“I really wish,” Enjin yawned loudly.
“I could have just told him, told him about why I cared so much if he wore his shit mask or not.” Enjin choked out.
“It isn’t fair. Why was such a good artist like Gob cursed to live in a world where he couldn’t go where his heart desired?” He sighed.
“I should have just told him.” Enjin said one last time. Taking a long drag from his smoke before it fell to the ground.
Enjin immediately slumped forward, his head heavy against the table as the snoring started again.
Semiu just stared. How was she supposed to react to this?
“Remind me to never let you get shitfaced and smoke again.” Semiu sighed, flicking her butt of her smoke onto the ground and leaning back in her chair.
She sighed heavily and just looked up at the sky. Gob dying hurt all the cleaners more than she would like to admit. She knew August was one hell of an artist,t but it just didn’t compare.
But goodness, she would have never, ever guessed The Enjin would be this fucked up over his death.
And now that she knew the reason why he was so screwed up, it felt much worse.
Maybe she should have a drink or two tonight after all.