Chapter 7 #3
But with Falk’s sweater—so soft from being worn over and over again, and so meticulously stitched—he tried to match everything as well as he could.
Ren tried to get his hands to work the same as the Wolf who had made the sweater originally, tried to match the tension in the yarn and size of each stitch.
He knew it couldn’t possibly be perfect, not without being able to get the materials himself.
The hook was a size too big for the stitches of the original sweater, and the black yarn Falk had brought him would look the same to most people, but it was more than obvious to Ren the shades and textures were completely different. But he did the best he could.
Falk dragged his chair closer to the bars to see what Ren was doing, as though he could learn something from only watching the repetitive motion of his fingers.
It made Ren nervous, but he kept his head down.
He wondered if Falk thought he would destroy the sweater rather than fix it, and a small lump sat heavy in his stomach.
He also tried to not get too distracted by how strong Falk’s scent was on this sweater—it was obviously a favorite.
Every stitch held his smell in it. Ren wanted to hide it in his nest like he did with everything Falk gave him.
Falk had the right to be a little anxious giving Ren something so precious.
He wasn’t sure how long it took him, but his hands were just beginning to ache when he tied off the last row.
Ren grinned when he held up the sweater. “All fixed!”
The patch he had worked on wasn’t as obvious as he’d worried it would be, but it was definitely noticeably mended. When Falk said nothing, Ren had a moment of fear he would get angry—that he would yell at Ren for not fixing it well enough.
But after a moment, a small smile appeared on Falk’s lips, “Wow, you really were going to be a tailor.”
Ren laughed. “To be honest, I think this might be my best work”
Falk laughed as well before reaching through the bars, hand outstretched to take the piece of clothing back.
Ren hesitated for a moment, glancing between Falk and the sweater in his hands.
He bit his lip before pressing the garment to his nose for a second.
He took a long breath, cheeks pinking slightly when he opened his eyes to see Falk’s eyebrows were raised at him.
He smiled sheepishly before leaning forward to hand Falk the sweater.
Falk paused for a moment with the soft knit between his fingers. He shook his head, handing it back, “You can borrow it for a while—as a thank you.”
Ren blinked at him for a second before grinning and snatching the sweater back. It was over his head and pulled over his torso barely a moment later, Ren’s nose buried in the collar of it.
“My scent can’t possibly be that nice.” Falk chuckled.
Ren ignored him, instead tipping over to one side to curl up on his mattress.
He kept the collar pulled over his nose as his eyes slipped closed, the smoke and cloves already comforting him.
His nerves were frayed from the last few weeks when he couldn’t get a hold of the scent his entire body so desperately craved.
He did give the sweater back when Falk asked for it a few days later, but only after making sure his own scent was properly rubbed into it. He smiled to himself as Falk pulled it on, his nose scrunching when he smelled Ren’s scent on it.
“Being a bit possessive now?” Falk questioned.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Ren hummed.
Ren was quite familiar with Falk’s scent. If he could wrap it around himself at all times, he would. He would call himself an expert on it. So, he noticed instantly when it smelled differently one day.
Ren was on his feet the moment Falk was down the stairs. He grasped the bars and stared at the Alpha who peered back at him, the skin beneath his eyes looking darker than usual. “What’s wrong?” Ren asked immediately.
“What are you talking about, Ren?” Falk sighed and raised a shaky hand to run his fingers through his hair, shoving the dark locks back from his face. A sheen of sweat lined his temples.
“Are you sick?” Ren asked.
“No,” Falk snapped.
“You look awful and you smell weird,” Ren said, nose wrinkling. The smoke was stronger today when usually it was a comforting undertone, like a warm fire. Today it completely overpowered the rest of Falk’s scent. “You should go to the infirmary and ask the doctor to check on?—”
“I’m not sick,” Falk interrupted, his voice pitched in a low, near-growl.
Ren fell quiet, blinking at Falk. His entire body was tensed up, like he was ready to lunge at Ren. Ren tilted his head to one side, “Are you going into your rut?”
“Leave me alone, Ren,” Falk muttered.
The corners of Ren’s lips twitched up when he noticed Falk was still wearing the sweater he had mended. His own heat had been triggered by just one kiss. Maybe Falk’s rut was triggered by a bit of Ren’s scent rubbing on him.
“If you are, you shouldn’t be down here,” Ren pointed out.