Work Text:
Enkrid is late.
For his very first day of work.
“Shit, shit—where the fuck are they?” he blurts, skidding across the floor as he storms through the house, lifting cushions, kicking aside discarded clothes, increasingly convinced the shoes have betrayed him personally.
After doing so many odd jobs throughout his life, he has finally landed a position at a good company—thanks to his friend Torres.
And now he’s late.
Damn it. He had set so many alarms. This is what he gets for staying up late, binge-watching action movies like an idiot.
He nearly trips over his cat, Esther. She lets out an offended meow.
“Sorry,” he mutters, crouching to give her a quick pat before finally spotting his shoes under the couch.
He slips them on, gives Esther another pat, tells her to take care of the house, and then bolts for the door—ignoring her judgmental stare burning into his back.
He opens the door.
…Is there a wall blocking it?
“Hello, brother!”
Enkrid looks up.
And up.
And up—until he’s finally staring at a man. A giant, really. White hair. Gold eyes. A smile on his face.
“Would you like to hear about our Lord and saviour, Jesus Christ?”
Enkrid stares, dumbfounded. He isn’t particularly religious, and he tries hard not to be judgmental, but…
This guy’s ridiculous muscles are practically straining against his shirt.
You look like you’re about to take me to meet the Lord personally, he thinks. Or teach me how to fight demons.
Enkrid keeps the thought to himself. Honestly, he’s not in a hurry to meet the Lord anytime soon.
“Sorry—maybe next time,” he says, attempting to sidestep him.
A hand clamps down on his shoulder. Heavy. Solid. Way too strong.
“Nonsense, brother!”
Enkrid starts sweating. The man is smiling with his eyes closed, and something about that feels profoundly wrong. Extremely eerie, Enkrid thinks. Maybe this guy is the demon.
“The Lord brought me to you for a reason,” the man says brightly. “It’s fate!”
Enkrid is late.
For his very first day of work.
And now he appears to be held hostage—listening to an unsolicited sermon about the Bible, which is somehow worse.
He could try to slip away, but the man takes up the entire hallway. There is simply no way around him.
Enkrid has never felt small. He’s six feet tall—solidly so—but his neck is already starting to hurt from craning upward.
Who the hell is this guy? He has to be at least seven feet tall.
Is he God’s messenger?
Is this God’s extremely muscular way of telling him not to go to work today?
How long has this guy been waiting at his door?
He looks at his watch, 15 minutes late already. until he gets to the work it will be almost 40 minutes late.
Enkrid sighs. interrupting the guy as he talks about something about eternal suffering
‘’Hey uhh’’
‘’Audin’’ The man smile.
‘’...Sure, yeah, nice to meet you audin, but im late for work… so i gotta go’’
“Do not worry, brother. As long as you have faith, everything will work out. But it would be rude of me to keep you here,” Audin says, finally stepping aside.
“Thanks…”
I have no faith at all.
Enkrid starts to walk away. Once again, he doesn’t get far.
Audin’s hand settles on his shoulder again.
What the hell does he want? Enkrid thinks. Maybe if I start believing, he’ll leave me alone.
“I forgot to ask your name, brother.”
Maybe Enkrid shouldn’t be giving his name to a stranger—but he’s too late, and too tired, to care.
“Enkrid,” he says, turning and looking Audin directly in the eyes. “That’s my name.”
Audin just stares.
Enkrid grows awkward under the weight of it, shrugs him off, locks his door, and starts walking again.
“We will meet again, if the Lord wills it, Enkrid,” Audin says, still standing in the exact same spot.
Enkrid waves a hand without looking back.
Yeah. And I sure hope the Lord never wants it.
Enkrid steps out of the Uber—he missed the bus, and waiting for another would have taken too long.
Naurillia Enterprise looms in front of him.
He takes a breath, fixes his hair in the reflection of a window.
He doesn’t rush inside. He’s already late. At this point, a few more seconds won’t make a difference.
He opens the door and steps inside.
Surprisingly, there isn’t anyone waiting to fire him—just people walking around, working like it’s a perfectly normal day.
There was supposed to be someone waiting for him. He’s sure of it. They’ve probably already left. He is almost an hour late, after all.
He pulls out his phone, glancing at Torres’s messages again.
Torres: yeh dude, so when u get there, a guy with fucked up hair will be waiting for u
Torres: blonde and black hair, real weirdo
Torres: hes a nepo baby i think, doesnt do shit
Torres: mb, cant be there today to guide u
Real helpful, Torres. Really helpful.
Enkrid glances around. Everyone here has normal hair. No sign of the “fucked up hair” Torres mentioned.
He starts toward reception, figuring he’ll ask someone to guide him—
when someone comes running past, arms full of papers stacked so high they completely block his view.
Then it falls.
Not the person—just the papers—spilling everywhere and revealing a mop of pink hair and a pair of big annoyed green eyes.
The man runs a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath, before crouching down to gather the scattered pages.
Some of the papers land near Enkrid, so he crouches down to gather the ones closest to him. Without realizing it, he ends up moving closer as they work.
Their hands brush.
Enkrid jerks his hand back instantly.
How awkward, he thinks.
He looks up and meets the man’s gaze.
“Oh—hey! Thanks for the help,” the man says, straightening as he finishes collecting the papers.
Enkrid rises with him, holding his share of the stack.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before?”
“I’m new. Got here late,” Enkrid says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m kind of lost, actually.”
“Oh!” the man exclaims. “You’re the guy Torres was talking about?”
He shifts the stack of papers in his arms and grins.
“I’m Krais, from Finance. Nice to meet you!”