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Enjin wasn’t the first to notice the boy’s absence, nor the first to worry, and definitely not the first to ask if anyone had seen him. Yet, the moment he walked into the base cafeteria and started devouring his lunch, Rudo’s absence left a chalky taste in his mouth. A gnawing unease settled deep in his gut, dulling the flavor of the spiced cream-covered meat and tender vegetables.
It wasn’t unusual for Rudo to skip meals. Obsessed with the piles of trash he scavenged, he could spend hours locked in his room trying to fix whatever had caught his attention: a radio, a flashlight, a music box, a camera, countless trinkets discarded by Sphere residents who deemed them worthless. Eventually, the kid would come out to show off his handiwork, puffing up proudly with each compliment and bingeing on unhealthy food and sweets.
But Enjin knew this wasn’t one of those times. That would be the easy answer, and nothing about Rudo was ever easy.
“Strange, isn’t it?” Gris said, setting his tray down as he sat across from Enjin. “The others say he didn’t show up for breakfast either”.
“He’s probably busy with his trash” Enjin grunted, trying to brush it off.
The man nodded. “That’s what I thought too”, he paused to eat. “But then Follo said he caught him sneaking into the pantry yesterday, stuffing protein bars into his pockets”.
Rudo hated protein bars. Just seeing them made his stomach churn. He said their taste reminded him of a certain type of food popular in Sphere.
Enjin shot a grim look at his nearly untouched lunch. “Did Follo ask him why?”
Gris wiped his mouth with a napkin. “No, thought Rudo was just being his usual weird self, so he didn’t press it” He shrugged. “Come on, don’t look so worried. Maybe it’s nothing and we’re just-”
“He had a fever when we got back yesterday” Enjin cut in, standing up and heading for the door. “Please finish my plate”.
The image of Rudo, cheeks and neck flushed red, curled up against the car’s rear window didn’t seem tender or endearing anymore. Instead, it was an unspoken warning of a tragedy that might have been prevented if only Enjin had had the common sense to drag the kid to Eishia.
As Enjin hurried down the corridors, a knot of anxiety twisted in his stomach like a swarm of snakes biting their own tails. His exaggerated, almost theatrical guilt made him feel stupid for thinking he had any right over Rudo, like he was just a glorified babysitter.
Once he saw him, he’d make sure to give him a beating.
“Enjin’s here too!” Riyo called out as soon as she saw him turn the corner. She stopped trying to force the door open with a pair of wires. “About time you showed up.”
Follo, Amo, even Zanka crowded around Riyo, barely paying attention to the newcomer. They all waited, their faces showing varying levels of anxiety.
“And what’s this witches’ coven?”
“Coven?” Amo asked.
“Very funny” Riyo said, going back to her task. “I tried sneaking in through the window, but it was locked and the curtains were drawn. Super creepy!”
“He acts like a brat” Zanka complained, kicking the door. “A brat!”
“Careful! I almost got it” Riyo protested.
“He doesn’t answer when we talk to him either” Follo added from the back.
“Could he be asleep?” Amo asked again.
“Doubt anyone, even Rudo, can sleep with all the noise we’re making” Zanka kicked the door again for emphasis. “Rudo!”
Enjin stayed out of the argument, arms crossed and jaw clenched. The wait irritated and made him more anxious. Part of him thought breaking in would cross a definite line. Another, more visceral part screamed that if Rudo took so many precautions, it was because he was hiding something.
Besides, Rudo was… well, Rudo: a little fallen spherite with little resistance to physical contact, zero filter, serious problems communicating assertively, and a high pain tolerance. He could have a broken leg and still lie that it was just a scratch.
A metallic click snapped Enjin out of his dangerous spiral. The door lock finally gave way.
“Got it!” Riyo announced, pocketing the broken wires. Just as she reached for the knob, Enjin stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
“Wait. You don’t know if the idiot’s naked,” he joked, barely getting a reaction. “Tough crowd. At least let me try talking to him one last time.”
Riyo gave him a look that said arguing was pointless. She stepped aside next to Amo. Follo and Zanka moved as well, making space for Enjin and whatever he planned.
“Rudo!” Enjin kicked the door twice as hard as Zanka had. “I’m not joking about coming in” He pressed his ear to the wood, trying to listen.
Nothing.
“That’s what we did, and it didn’t work” Follo said.
Enjin ignored him. “We already forced the lock and I’m opening the doo-”
The subtle sound of metal scraping metal on the other side put Enjin on alert. He motioned for the others to stay quiet.
“Rudo?” he whispered, bringing his ear closer.
Again, the metal creaked under the weight of movement. Plastic pieces clashed and broke. Glass shattered. Was Rudo digging through his personal mountain of trash? What a strange little creature.
“Sorry, kid, but you’re not leaving me a choice.”
Slowly, Enjin eased the door open just a few centimeters, moving as quietly as possible, when the thick stench of blood stung his nose. A fresh cut, a badly treated tear. His mind raced through a thousand worse-case scenarios, each one darker than the last, where reckless, angry Rudo, (unable to believe anyone cared about him), bled out alone in his room.
“Hey, Rudo!”
“GET AWAY!” Rudo’s roar slammed the door shut in Enjin’s face.
Something, (or someone), had slammed against it and refused to budge no matter how hard Enjin pushed.
“This isn’t funny, Rudo” Zanka complained, voice sharper than usual.
Rudo’s heavy, wet breathing came through loud and clear on the other side.
“If you’re hurt, you need to see Eishia” Follo stepped forward to join Enjin in trying to open the door.
“DON’T COME IN!”
“You’re impossible,” Zanka grunted, pushing harder. “A stupid brat who’d rather bleed out in the trash than ask for help. What the hell?”
Enjin knew, because he’d seen it with his own eyes, that Rudo was a sack of bones and skin held together by pure rage and luck. The kid was all collarbones, ribs, and sharp joints perfectly matched with pale, gaunt skin. In other words, lightweight, easy to drag with a chain or carry on your back after some serious training.
So why was it that five people, Riyo and Amo newly included, couldn’t open a damn door?
“Rudo” Enjin struggled. “We just want to know if you’re okay. Can you at least say something?”
Everyone braced for another round of shouting, insults, or silence, so they didn’t know how to react when none of those came.
“Please…” Rudo whimpered, voice hoarse and broken. “I don’t want you here.”
Gosh, Rudo sounded so miserable, so hurt.
Enjin couldn’t help feeling lost on what to do next. His nerves burned at his fingertips, bile rising in his throat. It was like facing a stubborn gremlin with hoarding issues, but really fighting the ultimate battle against a trash beast. Maybe those two things weren’t so different after all.
The door stayed shut, and all Enjin could think about was the smell of blood, thick, almost sweet, so heavy it seemed to stick to his teeth. A smell he knew from fights and disasters, but now horribly out of place in a room that should smell of cleaning products, polished metal, and a faint chemical scent because, despite what you might think, Rudo hated dirt.
But now it only smelled like blood.
Rudo’s blood.
His boy’s blood.
Rudo knew he was in for a few days of hell when the constant ache in his hands was joined by a dull, crawling irritation along the skin of his neck and back. The pre-heat was never pleasant, but at least it was a warning. A cruel reminder that new, immediate priorities had just been added to his list, things he had to get ready if he didn’t want to end up a sniveling, vomit-streaked mess rolling on the floor like during his first heat.
But this time, there was one small detail that wrecked everything.
Regto wasn’t here.
The thought alone made his empty stomach churn.
No pup should have to build his own nest without an adult there. Not when every nerve in his body was screaming for contact, for familiar scents, for safety. Not when that primitive part of his brain was clawing at his skull like a wounded animal, demanding that calm voice that knew how to talk to him without making him feel pathetic, that voice that could guide him without stepping on the scraps of dignity he still had left.
The voice of a dead man.
A sob scraped his throat raw. He curled in tighter, pressing his face against his gloves.
The past thirty hours had been nothing but torment. In the back seat of the car, the moment the adrenaline from fighting a particularly vicious trash beast bled out of his system, the fever hit. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say a thing.
Then again… it wasn’t like anyone in the Ground even knew what an omega was.
Nobody looked twice when his pupils blew wide and his throat worked in tight swallows. Up there, those were code red signs. Down here, just another oddity in a boy who already seemed damaged enough.
Despite everything, the fall, the beasts, the smugglers, Rudo still felt a grim sort of pride when he realized how quickly he’d noticed no one in the Ground had a scent. No alphas, no omegas, not even betas. Just the stink of grime and sweat, sometimes cut with perfume, a superficial layer that washed away after a shower. Later, once he’d settled in with the Cleaners, he figured maybe constant exposure to rot and corrosion had stunted secondary gender development, like malnutrition did to some tribefolk.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case for him.
Life hadn’t been satisfied with dumping him from a rotten bloodline.
And still, despite the weight Rudo’s very existence carried, Regto had done what he could to care for him, teaching him everything an adult beta could: how to spot the first symptoms; which positions eased the spasms; how to breathe without panicking; how to make a nest warm and safe; how to tell the difference between hiding and curling up; and that it was okay to ask for help…
“Regto…” Rudo whimpered, curled tight in the middle of his nest. “Re-egto…”
But this nest didn’t smell like him.
And maybe that was the worst part. Because no matter if he ever made it out of the pit, there’d be no one waiting for him up there.
When he’d gotten back to the base, he’d slipped into his room without a hitch. Now it was his cave. Even with his vision fogged and the weight of the need to hide pressing down on him, he’d forced himself to gather what he needed to get through the next couple of days: food (those awful protein bars no one else would miss) and extra blankets (and maybe, if no one noticed, he’d keep them).
Now the bars sat within reach on the bare mattress, next to water bottles and candy. He’d arranged his pile of scavenged junk so there was a hollow space for the blankets, spreading them along the nest’s hard edges for padding and warmth. Some of them already held faint traces of scent, and they made a soft, warm cradle he could finally sink into. Just as Regto had taught him.
In the dark, in a cave that smelled only of himself and the junk he’d rescued, he could finally rot in peace.
Once, Regto, lying beside him in the nest, running a hand through his hair after a bout of nausea and the throbbing ache in his glands, had told him he smelled like rust. Not the metallic tang of blood, but the kind that formed on metal left in the sun for years: soft, sweet, like crystallized honey.
Rudo hadn’t believed him. Ever since he’d presented, every Spherite who’d harassed him had said he smelled like a rotting corpse: the perfect mix of the blood of the person his father had killed and the garbage dumps he used to sneak into.
Then someone knocked. Hard.
Through the haze, he made out Riyo’s voice. Then Follo’s, Amo’s… even Zanka’s. They murmured to each other, then called for him to open the door, saying they just wanted to make sure he was okay, that he wasn’t sick or dead. But it was too much. Every muscle ached with the smallest movement, his throat burned like sandpaper when he swallowed, and every sound outside sent sharp pulses through his skull.
There were more kicks, shouts, something metallic he couldn’t place, and then a fifth voice joined in.
Enjin.
He said something Rudo didn’t catch, and the next thing he knew, the lock was forced and the door was opening. Which meant they were going to see the nest.
“GET OUT!” Rudo roared, scrambling through the blankets and slamming against the door. “DON’T COME IN!”
They couldn’t come in.
No.
NO.
NO.
Because Rudo was a damp, disgusting mess.
Because Rudo was a useless thing that smelled like a corpse.
Because Rudo didn’t deserve help.
“Please…” he rasped, voice shredded down to a whisper soaked in helplessness. “I don’t want you here.” Tears burned the raw skin of his face and neck. He scrubbed them away with his gloves.
The gloves Regto had given him.
Regto, who couldn’t hold him anymore.
Regto, who had smelled of dry paper and old ink.
Regto, who had loved him like a son.
Regto, who was dead.
“Dad…” The word came out a broken sob. “Dad…”
The sound was painful, strangled by feverish heat. No shame in it, just the raw plea of a lost pup adrift in the dark, in a fever he didn’t fully understand. Tears ran hot down his cheeks, soaking into the sweat along his neck.
At some point (minutes, maybe hours) later the pounding and shouting stopped. The silence that followed was so sudden, so complete, Rudo thought for a moment he’d imagined it. But no, the weight of it was real. As real as the sweat trickling down his back until it met the cold metal of the door. The touch wrung a shiver from him, lit up the nerves along his spine, dragged him back into his body, into the moment, onto the hard floor.
He was lying there. Alone.
Slowly, clumsily, he dragged himself back to the nest. The blankets were a mess from his earlier outburst, so he began to fix them by feel, gloved hands trembling, breath ragged through his nose. His own scent wrapped around him, warm, heavy, sweet rust and despair.
The nest was supposed to make him feel safe.
It wasn’t enough.
Part of him clung to the idea he could do this. He’d survived worse. Abandonment. Loss. But another part, smaller, more primitive, spiteful, screamed and bit and waited for someone to find him, because it was easier to drive everyone away than to risk believing he could hold on again.
Hold on to an unreachable memory. His mind, more past than present, filled with tattered recollections: soft words, home, a big hand in his hair, the smell of ink…
“Awake now, Sleeping Beauty?”
Enjin’s voice was warm, carrying his usual teasing note, but underneath it, Rudo caught the flicker of something anxious.
“Enjin?” he mumbled.
“Easy, kid”
But there was no being easy.
Everything inside him howled with shame and desperation. From deep in his throat came a sound that didn’t belong to a human, a growl, low and harsh, full of teeth and bristled fur. A warning. A threat. There was someone Enjin in his cave. Someone Enjin touching him. Someone Enjin speaking softly.
“Wow…” Enjin sounded surprised, but cautious. He didn’t pull back like he should have. Instead, his touch grew firmer, steadier, more grounding. “If you knew how worried everyone’s been about you”
Another low growl rattled Rudo’s chest. His gums itched, jaw tight with the urge to bite the hand.
“Go” he murmured, unconsciously leaning into the cool touch. “You can’t be here.”
Enjin clicked his tongue. “You’re clearly sick and you say you want to be alone” His hand paused on Rudo’s forehead. If the sweat bothered him, he didn’t show it, just kept stroking his hair. “At least tell me where you’re hurt”
“Hurt?”
“Buddy, this place reeks of blood. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve got an infection. It’s kinda gross, you know?”
“Oh.”
“Come on, let me take you to Ei-… Rudo?”
Rudo had been right. Regto was a lying bastard.
If even Enjin, a man with no secondary gender, could pick up the stench on him, then everything about him was wrong. Shame twisted his guts, brought up the burn of acid in his throat. How was he supposed to keep going if the one thing about him that should have been naturally pleasant was as ruined as he was?
Rudo was a bad omega.
The worst omega.
A complete failure of an omega.
Okay, definitely keep pushing the door wasn’t going to work. Since plan one: getting in nicely and plan two: getting in by force, had both failed, the group had no choice but to reconsider the strategy and let things flow.
Enjin’s idea was simple: they would let Rudo think they had left; if he was sick or dying, eventually he would fall asleep, and they would take advantage of that calm to find a way in and then come back inside. Forcing the lock in the first place had to be good for something. If necessary, Enjin planned to drag Rudo to the infirmary chained up. He was willing to do anything just to get him out of the confinement where he was wasting away. He told the others to leave the matter in his hands. And although there were some complaints, over time everyone gave in. Everyone, except Riyo.
She wasn’t fooled by Enjin’s bravado or easy smile. She knew him too well for that. She stared at him with narrowed eyes, silent at first, as if timing the exact moment to speak. When she did, her voice was low and firm.
“Don’t promise him anything you can’t keep.”
“Who do you think I am?” Enjin laughed, straightening up as if he could shake off the accusation with a good posture.
“I’m just saying,” Riyo began, measuring every word as if they were parts of a delicate mechanism, “No one judges you if you want to play the big brother.”
Riyo took a couple of steps toward him and stopped right in front. The height difference was clear, but that didn’t stop her attitude from unsettling Enjin’s smile for a second.
“But I don’t want Rudo to get hurt because you chickened out.”
“Hmm...?” Enjin raised an eyebrow, smiling again with that tilted expression of his. “Come on, what could I chicken out of?”
“I don’t know. You tell me” She replied without changing her tone. Then she calmly turned away, walking off slowly, as if her words were not an accusation but a warning. “It’s okay if you do it out of pity. Even out of curiosity” she added, barely turning her head to look at him sideways. “But don’t offer your hand if you’re afraid of being bitten. And you know Rudo bites.”
Riyo threw one last glance over her shoulder before disappearing around the corner.
“Good luck! Let us know if you need help.”
Enjin frowned.
He already had enough with Semiu accusing him, over and over, with that impassive look behind her glasses and the corners of her lips twisted into a know-it-all smile. Whenever they met to drink, she found the perfect opportunity to throw some sharp comment his way: favoritism, loss of objectivity, the new kid would never learn that way. And now Riyo added to the picture, with her calculated tone and warning expression, bringing up the “big brother” idea. As if that was something Enjin had intended.
And what was his fault?
What fault did Enjin have if he felt -compassionate and self-indulgent- pity for an orphan kid who had been found clinging to the edge of life in the middle of No Man’s Land zone?
What fault did Enjin have if he felt -legitimate and scientific- curiosity about the first living sphereite to set foot on the Ground since heaven and earth separated?
What fault did Enjin have if…?
Damn.
Rudo only had to exist to get under Enjin’s skin.
Gris, who had never said much about it, mocked him once by calling him soft. But how could he not be soft when Rudo was like a small wild animal, wounded and distrustful, but also damn sad? A brat expelled from heaven for a crime he didn’t commit, with nothing else to cling to but a visceral desire for revenge and a pair of gloves that, oh! surprise, turned out to be key pieces for decoding the secrets of the world. According to Semiu, who interrupted a conversation between the two men, Enjin was soft with Rudo because he felt responsible for the stray animal he had picked up from the trash.
Maybe at first that was true, who knows. But over the months, that stopped mattering. Because, without realizing it, Enjin found himself hoping that Rudo returned healthy from every mission; he caught himself watching him during training, with a kind of silent pride when he beat a teammate without losing his head; he realized something warm ignited in his chest whenever the brat played like a normal kid with Dear, Guita, and Remlin.
That warmth has no name. Or at least, Enjin refuses to name it.
Especially now that same warmth burns his chest, full of worry and guilt.
Enjin needs a cigarette.
Throughout all his introspection, he hasn’t stopped listening to the sounds coming from the other side of the door. No matter how absorbed he is, his ear is still there, picking up every little noise. From the faint snores he can roughly guess the moment Rudo fell asleep against the door. Then came a startle, a sharp thud against the wood, a clumsy drag across the floor, and finally the sound of his body falling onto something soft, probably his pile of trash, then falling asleep again. All that happened within about twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes that felt like hours.
“Well, it’s now or never.”
Enjin sighed, exhausted even before starting. He rubbed his face with both hands, then placed his palm on the doorknob. He turned it slowly and opened the door just enough to slip inside. Immediately, the stench of blood hit him full force. Dense, metallic, almost sweet in its acidity. It filled his mouth like a thick tide.
The curtains were drawn, as Riyo had said. However, being thin, they let in the foggy, dusty afternoon light. That clarity was enough to reveal the chaos of the room without turning on any light.
Enjin moved forward with silent steps, measuring each movement with almost surgical precision. He couldn’t afford to trip over anything, make noise, or disturb the fragile balance that seemed to hold that little world together. For privacy and precaution, he left the door ajar, just flush with the frame. Not fully closed, in case he needed to exit urgently or call for help, but enough to keep curious eyes at bay.
The first thing Enjin noticed was the mattress was bare, with no sheets, and scattered on it were food remains: the protein bars Gris had mentioned, some half-eaten; candy wrappers barely opened; and a couple of water bottles, mostly empty. More than an improvised accumulation, it seemed Rudo had made a real effort to gather things that would keep him from leaving.
Enjin carefully avoided tangled headphones and a finger-marked mirror. He slipped through the narrow space between the mattress and a mountain of trash until he reached the window. More carefully still, he climbed the surface, noticing with some surprise that, for a construction of waste, everything was incredibly comfortable. There was an internal logic in the chaos; Rudo had some kind of intuitive architecture.
He sat slowly on the sunken side of the mound, heart pounding in his chest.
And then he saw him.
Rudo was curled up in a ball amid a jumble of blankets and sheets, buried in his pile of things as if trying to disappear from the world. His arms pressed against his chest, face hidden between the gloves, and his body (at least the parts his pajama shirt and shorts left exposed) beaded with sweat. His breathing was broken, irregular, but he didn’t seem in immediate danger. Just exhausted.
“Like a crow’s nest” Enjin thought as a nervous, almost involuntary smile began to form on his lips. A poorly made, dirty, messy nest. “Could this be sphereites thing or...?”
Before he was even aware of what he was doing, his hand had moved on its own. Enjin brought his fingers to Rudo’s head and began stroking it in a clumsy but sincere gesture. A crude attempt at comfort that, surprisingly, seemed to work. Rudo’s body, tense until then, relaxed slightly at the touch. Still asleep, the boy sought contact with a broken sigh and murmured the name of his dead father.
Enjin’s heart shrank. A new wave of warmth rose in his chest, different from before: a suffocating mix of guilt and selfishness. He had no right to take up that space.
“What am I going to do with you?” he whispered. With his free hand, he rubbed his eyes, trying to hold back fatigue.
Rudo stirred under Enjin’s touch. He took a long breath as if emerging from a deep sleep and opened his eyes. They were hazy, full of mist, unfocused.
Enjin cleared his throat, keeping the slow strokes on his hair. “Awake now, Sleeping Beauty?” he tried to soften the moment with a joke. He waited until Rudo focused on him. “Calm down, kid.”
But his own words sounded hollow, even hypocritical, considering the knot tightening his stomach. Still, he kept talking, trying to fill the silence.
“If you knew how worried everyone is…”
Rudo didn’t answer. His body tensed again. He frowned, showed his teeth, and growled like a cornered animal. In a hoarse voice, he ordered him to leave. Yeah, right. Enjin didn’t move, obviously not. Instead, he kept his hand where it was, pushing back damp sweat strands with his thumb.
“At least tell me where you’re hurt.”
“Hurt?”
“Friend, this place reeks of blood. I wouldn’t be surprised if you have an infection. It’s kind of gross, you know?”
“Oh.”
Maybe he was too blunt. Over time, the smell had become almost pleasant. Like burnt caramel with a metallic hint reminiscent of rust. Maybe his worry made him exaggerate. The smell could come from some object in the pile. Still, better safe than sorry.
“Come on, let me take you to Ei-” he stopped himself. “Rudo?”
The boy suddenly sat up. His skin bristled and his pupils dilated so much that hardly any of the red in his irises was visible. All his attention was on Enjin, muscles tense and breath held, ready to attack or flee.
But Rudo did neither.
After the initial shock, Rudo’s body relaxed like a cut puppet. Enjin, still motionless, watched as he began to fidget with his glove fingers, twisting them awkwardly without looking ahead.
For a moment, Enjin thought about yelling at him. Shaking him. Something.
But any impulse, any line of reasoning his brain had begun to build, disintegrated the moment he saw Rudo start to cry.
Without warning, thick tears slid down his dirty cheeks, mixing with sweat and dust. No screams. No sobbing. Just that silent crying that would haunt Enjin’s nightmares.
“Oh… come here,” he murmured, and without waiting for a response, pulled him into a clumsy hug that would have been uncomfortable if not for Rudo clutching him desperately for contact. “I have no idea what’s wrong with you, but I won’t leave you alone.”
Rudo trembled, and a sob tore through his throat as if ripped forcibly. Enjin could only rub his back with a steady hand, murmuring words of comfort.
“Sorry…” Rudo whimpered, face pressed to Enjin’s neck. “Sorry… sorry…”
“You have nothing to apologize for” Enjin said, closing his eyes as he squeezed him a little tighter.
“But I really feel bad…” Rudo’s voice broke, and his body seemed to shrink. “I… know how to handle this. I swear!”
Enjin frowned. Rudo’s tone made him alarmed.
“Handle what?”
Rudo shook his head.
“I didn’t want to worry you all. Regto taught me everything… everything and… and yet…” New snot choked his words.
“Rudo…” Enjin started, but the boy kept talking.
“If he were here… Dad wasn’t scared when things went bad, even if I started to smell different. And now…” He dug his fingers into Enjin’s jacket. “Now he’s dead. And you… you said my smell was disgusting.”
Something sank into Enjin’s chest. He wanted to explain, but Rudo gave him no room.
“I know I smell weird. Up there, everyone made sure I knew my body is garbage.”
“Hey, hey, wait… look at me, Rudo” Enjin said, taking his face in his hands with slow, pleading movements. “I was an idiot to say that. I never meant to sound like I was judging you.”
For the first time, Rudo looked at him. With clear eyes, opened wide by anger and shame.
“But I can’t help feeling dirty…”
“You’re not” Enjin cut him off, in a serious tone, without hesitation. “You’re not, Rudo.”
Rudo swallowed. His lips trembled. He seemed torn between pulling away or sinking deeper into that contact.
“You can’t understand…” he whispered.
“Then explain it to me.”
The boy breathed heavily. Congested, eyes red. He rubbed his fingers against the glove fabric.
“I’m…” Rudo bit his lip, holding back sobs shaking his whole body. “I’m an omega,” he confessed abruptly, voice strangled, tongue dry.
Enjin blinked, stunned. “Sorry… a what?”
“An omega,” Rudo repeated with a whimper, like a kicked puppy. “And a horrible omega. I can’t even make a nest that feels right. Everything about me is a mistake. Even my scent…”
A coughing fit shook him. Enjin moved him gently aside, without letting go entirely, to help him breathe.
“Hey, I already told you I was sorry, Rudo, please” his hands tightened their grip. “I didn’t want to… shit. The place smelled like blood, and I didn’t know if you were okay or-”
“But I’m not okay!” he finally roared, with an anger that seemed not directed at Enjin but himself. “I’m not okay and I don’t know how to be”
Enjin stayed silent for a moment, clenching his teeth, feeling the way Rudo’s body trembled.
“Then let’s start with something simple” he said, in a low but firm voice. “Let’s breathe together. That’s all. No, no, don’t show me your teeth. Breathe with me, okay? Inhale… and exhale.”
Rudo obeyed reluctantly. At first, his breathing was clumsy, clogged, as if every breath stabbed nails into his lungs. But little by little, following Enjin’s rhythm, he managed to synchronize. Like a good puppy, he imitated every inhale and exhale, over and over, until his chest stopped shaking violently. He didn’t calm down completely, but managed to regain, for a moment, control over his own body.
He was in heat. He had built a nest. Some cleaners got worried. Enjin had entered his den and was now helping him breathe. The clarity of facts is brutal and merciless.
Shame. Not even that word was enough to cover what he felt. It was something emptier, more corrosive, a deep, visceral repulsion that clung to his chest with the ferocity of a parasite that never dies. The same disgust that silently ate him from childhood, when everyone saw him as a walking reflection of his father’s crimes. A red-hot mark, carved into his bones, blood, breath. Impossible to wash away.
What should Rudo do? Breathe. Inhale. Exhale.
But his body insisted on rebelling. He felt fangs pricking his gums, claws pressing his cuticles, stiff and gritty joints, skin prickling with heat. And deep down, in the primitive, demanding part of his brain, the omega voice repeated clearly and insistently:
ATTACK. STRANGER. BITE. SAVE YOURSELF.
“Alright” Enjin murmured. At some point, he took Rudo’s hands in his own. Large hands full of ink. “Keep breathing deeply, come on. That’s it. I got you.”
Maybe that was the hardest part: accepting that someone held him in that vulnerable state and trusting that they wouldn’t hurt him. Believing that help didn’t hide a trap or reproach. A strange adult reached out a hand and cradled his misery as if he had the right to be treated like a child, as if he was worth caring for.
And wasn’t that what Regto did? Remember. There was nothing that united them and yet the man recognized him as his own pup. He had guided him, taught him, gotten him out of trouble, and even complemented his scent as a father would with his son.
Now there was Enjin… Enjin, who will never fully understand, (though he tries) even half of the situation Rudo is stuck in up to his neck, wants to be by his side voluntarily, without running away, without judging, helping him.
“Breathe with me. Good boy” Enjin murmured again.
It’s easy to obey Enjin when he sets aside his sarcasm and talks like a real adult.
“You did great, kid,” Enjin praises. “I’m proud of you.”
Rudo let out a weak growl, without energy, letting exhaustion and instincts drag him. Enjin smelled of ink and smoke, different from Regto’s old ink and paper scent. Enjin’s was artificial, yes, but it existed: the ink didn’t come from his skin, it was stuck there thanks to tattoos, the smoke on his clothes varied depending on the brand and amount of cigarettes he smoked. But it didn’t matter. Rudo’s omega brain could work with that.
This is a scent.
This scent is from someone.
This someone is shelter.
“Enjin…” Rudo whispered.
“What’s wrong, kid?” Enjin answered, lowering his voice so as not to break the fragile calm.
“Enjin,” he repeated, feeling the fever cloud his head again. “Please… stay.”
“You’re an idiot if you think I’ll leave your side” Enjin teased. “Ufffp… I got you”
Rudo didn’t wait any longer. He threw himself against Enjin, burying his face in the man’s neck and breathing slow, calm, filling his mouth with smoke, ink, the blood from the collar, mint shampoo, sweat, trash, and something chemical he couldn’t identify, and it all boiled down to one thought: Enjin. Safety. Enjin. Pack?
“Enjin” the name came from Rudo like a balm.
“I’m here” Enjin, resigned to his new role as pillow, settled among the blankets of the nest. He leaned his back against the makeshift structure. “It’s… comfortable,” he admitted with surprise.
“Liar…” Rudo murmured, kneading the fabric of Enjin’s jacket and rubbing his face against his chest.
“I’m serious, kid. You’d do well to learn to accept compliments,” Enjin replied. He stretched out his legs and let Rudo curl up however he wanted. “Get some sleep, you need it.”
There was a brief silence. Then, a strange sound.
“Oh… huh?” Enjin blinked, confused.
What he had at first mistaken for a snore or another grunt turned out to be a soft, smooth vibration, coming from Rudo’s chest and naturally spreading to his throat. It was a low, involuntary purr that accompanied each deep breath.
“…Fuck” Enjin murmured with a half-smile, not moving so as not to interrupt it. “You’re a box of surprises, did you know that?”
Rudo didn’t respond with words. He simply purred louder as Enjin resumed stroking his hair, the idea of letting go inconceivable.
The soft murmur of static caught Enjin’s attention. He brought his free hand to the clasp of his collar and pressed carefully, tilting his head slightly to listen.
“Are you alive?” Riyo asked.
“No.”
“Good. Do you know what happened to Rudo?”
“Not sure yet”
“Didn’t you ask him?”
“He can barely stay conscious” Enjin replied, glancing at the white bundle curled against him.
“Is it serious?”
Enjin hesitated for a moment. “I don’t think so. From what he told me before falling asleep again… it’s something that just happens”
“Bring him to Eisha when he wakes up.”
“I can’t take him out of his room without risking a panic attack” Enjin’s tone grew firm, as if wanting to end the discussion before it started.
“That leaves us at a standstill.”
“Look, I know you have the rest of the team with you. Tell them not to worry and that when this is over, I’ll make sure to get all the information I can from him.”
Riyo said nothing for a long minute. Enjin could imagine her glancing sideways at the others, calculating.
“Will he be okay?”
“Give him a day or two and he’ll be as good as new… rolling around in piles of trash.”
“Of course.” He couldn’t see her, but Enjin knew Riyo’s shoulders relaxed. “Need us to bring anything?”
“Towels” came the immediate reply. “Water, real food, and pillows… add sweets too.”
Riyo hummed in agreement. “Anything else?”
“If I think of something, I’ll let you know”
The call ended with a dry click.
Enjin sighed and shifted his legs slightly; half his body was cramped. Maneuvering Rudo without waking him had been a task requiring surgical patience. He finally laid him down beside himself, curled into a ball, face hidden against his ribs and a leg tangled around him as if afraid he might disappear. So small and…
“Honey… that’s what you smell like, right?” he whispered, expecting no answer. “Rust and honey… weird, but it suits you, little demon.”
And it was true. The scent that had initially struck him as harsh, almost cruel to his lungs, contaminated by the tangled emotions of Rudo, had changed over the hours. Now it was a warm comfort, a shadow of old flowers, a compassionate tear. Like a children’s story telling of a life far from violence and fear. Rudo smelled of the rust on metal toys that had been touched so many times the paint wore off, toys loved until they bent, lost springs, gears, limbs. And at the same time, he smelled like thick honey candies with a liquid center, so sweet just looking at them made your teeth ache.
Enjin moved his hand lower, tangling his fingers in the short white hair. He stroked it slowly, noticing by the low and constant purring that Rudo enjoyed the attention. A brief smile appeared on his lips… and vanished when his hand stumbled upon a damp lock of sweat.
“When will Riyo bring the towels?” he muttered, with a grimace of displeasure.
Still, he didn’t move his hand away.
What else could he do but finish what he’d started? Take responsibility for a burden he never asked for but accepted.
And he always would.
Eventually, when he had what he needed, he would wash Rudo’s body despite the shame it caused him, comb out every knot in his hair, dress him in clean, fresh clothes, hold him carefully while changing the bandages on his hands, and hurry to return his gloves. He’d ask him to eat something, enough not to faint, and then let him go back to sleep, whispering that he would never leave him alone, humming songs from his life before he was called Enjin.
Yes… it was a good plan.
Enjin could do it.
And maybe, when all this was over and he had the answers everyone needed, he’d dare to name the warmth building in his chest.