Imagine: Your jinki is a lighter.
And, of course, that became the perfect excuse for Enjin to make friends with you. What he failed to take into account, however, was one small detail: your temper was just as fiery as the flame in that very lighter.
But Enjin wasn’t exactly the shy type either. And the way you reacted whenever he came up to you for the hundredth time in a day asking for a light genuinely amused him.
At some point, though, it made you so angry that you couldn’t hold back anymore. You snapped at him so loudly that the two of you didn’t speak for almost a week. Of course, because of missions, you still had to interact, and over time the resentment faded. Enjin, however, stopped being quite so pushy.
But a habit that had formed over the years couldn’t simply disappear without leaving a trace.
And so, one evening, when everyone had gathered in the kitchen, you were sitting on the edge of the table, laughing about something with Tomme. Then, as soon as you caught that familiar scent of men’s cologne mixed with tobacco beside you, you rolled your eyes out of sheer instinct, slipped your hand into your pocket, pulled out your lighter, and held it out without even looking in his direction.
Enjin looked first at your hand, then at you, and asked with a smirk: “What are you doing?”
You felt everything inside you tighten with embarrassment and slowly turned your head toward him.
A pair of astonished yellow eyes was fixed on you, and for a moment, you wanted nothing more than to sink straight through the floor. Because even your proud nature could crack sometimes.
Enjin was clearly enjoying what was happening, because he understood perfectly well that, despite any grudges, you were still ready to step over yourself and offer him that damned lighter so he could light his cigarette. Even though not long ago you had shouted something along the lines of: “How long are you going to keep using me?! I’m not some disposable item!”
The awkward situation was resolved when Enjin finally pulled out a cigarette and, carefully wrapping his fingers around your wrist to bring the lighter closer, lit it after all. “I knew I could always count on you,” he said, smiling smugly.
You scoffed and slipped your jinki back into your pocket: “You’re just a bad influence on me.”
He smiled, exhaled the smoke to the side, and moved a little closer: “Admit it. You enjoy this.”
And honestly, arguing with that had become a lot harder now.
original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating