Chapter 11 #3
“That’s perfect,” Chaya laughed. “I’m awful at knitting and crocheting. You’d be immensely helpful. Plus, my other apprentice still hasn’t learned to knit or crochet at all, you could always help me teach him.”
“Your other apprentice?” Ren wondered.
“I actually think you know him,” the Omega hummed. “His name is Des.”
Ren perked up. “Des is working here? He used to bring me meals down in the prison.”
“Des has no idea what he wants to do,” Chaya laughed. “He keeps bouncing from job to job trying to find something.”
“See?” Falk said, smiling at Ren. “You already have a friend here, you’ll do fine.”
Ren pursed his lips but didn’t complain.
He let Falk leave, squeezing Ren’s hip in comfort before turning and heading out to his own job for the day.
Ren eyed Chaya once Falk was out of sight—she was so small, there was no way she could hurt Ren or stop him if he wanted to run.
He was shocked Falk would trust her with him—was shocked Chaya would offer to work with him, knowing what Ren was capable of.
But Chaya just beamed at him and waved him over. “Here, let me show you how my sewing machine works.”
“How was work?” Falk asked him later that evening when he came by to pick Ren up.
Ren shrugged, pursing his lips and trying to not look too excited. “It was fine,” he said simply.
Working with Chaya had been far more fun than going with Falk to attend to his Warrior duties.
Similarly to how he felt when he had been given the task of fixing Falk’s sweater all those weeks ago, Ren felt like he had a purpose as Chaya showed him the orders they were trying to fill for Wolves around the castle.
Chaya did everything—she took custom orders from generals, patched up old clothing people couldn’t bear to part with, and made new pieces to sell.
She had shown Ren how to use her sewing machines as well as the loom, and when Des had arrived later in the afternoon, Ren sat down to teach him some basic crochet stitches.
“I didn’t know you knew how to do all of this,” Des said as he stared down at the chain he was trying to make. It was already looking a bit wonky because of his inexperience with keeping the tension equal throughout. He looked warily at the granny square Ren was already almost done with.
“Yeah, it’s what I was training in when I lived on the cliffs,” Ren hummed.
Des hesitated a moment before asking, “Did you begin apprenticeships early up there? I thought you only recently turned eighteen.”
Ren nodded with a smile, “yeah, you chose when you’re sixteen.”
“That makes sense,” Des said. “I think we start too late here. I’m expected to pick something to stick with soon and I still have no idea. I’m the only Omega my age still trying out all the different trades. Everyone else has settled into something.”
Ren had reached over and patted him on the shoulder, making him jump. But Ren ignored it. “Don’t worry, you’ll find something,” he reassured him. “Honestly, I hated working with the tailor up on the cliffs—he was awful. But now I actually kind of like it.”
“You’re really good at it.” Des had nodded furiously, looking at the yarn in Ren’s hands.
“Yeah, but I’m not good at the actual tailoring part of being a tailor,” Ren had laughed. “Don’t give me a needle and thread unless you want something patched up like a child did it.”
It was so easy to talk to Des and Chaya—the Omegas were such comforting presences.
They were able to chat together as they worked, had lunch and then dinner together, and neither of them made any comments about Ren or his past. He felt none of the anxiety and panic lying just under the surface of his ribcage like he usually had when he went with Falk, always surrounded by other Warriors.
But he didn’t want to admit that to Falk and prove he had been right.
“Just fine?” Falk asked.
“Yeah.” Ren shrugged again as he followed Falk through the hallways.
Falk didn’t press anymore and they walked in silence until they reached his chambers.
Ren huffed out a tired sigh and immediately fell onto the soft mattress and the blankets he had strewn there.
Falk kept trying to make the bed each morning but Ren had finally convinced him to leave the blankets in the heap he had made.
He shut his eyes and listened to the sounds of Falk getting ready for bed. He listened to the soft hum of running water and the rustling of clothing being changed. A hand rested on his lower back a little while later before soft words were whispered, “go get ready for bed, Ren.”
“I’m comfy here,” he grumbled.
“Yeah, but you need to get to sleep,” Falk hummed. “It’s your birthday tomorrow, isn’t it?”
Ren sat up. “Yeah, so I should get to stay up as late as I want.”
Falk laughed and shook his head, pushing Ren toward the bathroom with a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Ren frowned but went easily, ducking into the little bathroom to comfortably change into the t-shirt and undershorts he normally slept in.
He splashed water over his face, rubbing the droplets into his skin and then washed his hands.
He could already see the calluses forming on his fingertips—they had faded when he was in prison, but they were coming back like old friends.
Ren pushed his hair back as he exited the bathroom, feet slowing to a stop as he looked at Falk, already comfortable in bed. Falk hadn’t noticed his return yet and was sitting up on the mattress, his back against the wall, reading a novel propped against his thighs.
Sometimes Ren wondered how many other people got to see Falk like this—dark hair shoved back from its normally neat, tidy style, and lips pulled up in a slight smile as he read.
He looked much softer than he usually did when he was wearing his Warrior uniform and his scowling expression, eyes narrowed whenever he caught a glance of someone looking at him.
Curled up in bed like this, Ren wanted nothing more than to crawl onto his lap and lay against his chest. He was sure Falk would be warm—was sure his heartbeat would be comforting.
His brain raced over and over again with the images of himself falling asleep against Falk while he read.
Something in his chest ached with the want of it.
But instead of any of that, Ren walked over quietly. “You’re reading?” he asked.
“Yes, I enjoy reading,” Falk said, not looking up.
“I never read,” Ren hummed.
“You did when I brought you books down in the prison.”
“Yes, I literally only ever read when I was so bored I thought I was going to die,” Ren said.
“Is it a problem that I’m reading?” Falk asked, finally looking up.
Ren’s heart seemed to skip a beat when he finally had Falk’s attention on him. “No, I just thought we were going to bed,” he said since he didn’t have any other excuse for interrupting the Alpha.
“You can go to sleep. I want to read a bit before I do,” Falk said, looking back at his book.
Ren scowled at the fact that Falk was no longer looking at him. He wanted Falk to notice how badly he wanted him; for Falk to offer him an embrace or offer to hold him while he slept.
“Ren,” Falk said as Ren pointedly shuffled over him to get to his side of the bed rather than going around.
“What?” Ren asked, looking at him innocently. “I’m trying to go to bed.”
Falk stared up at him with an expression Ren couldn’t read.
He had paused intentionally when he was half over Falk, so Falk had to move his book from his thighs so Ren could get by.
Ren was straddling one of Falk’s thighs, and Ren was curious what Falk would do if he actually did move to sit on his lap.
But at Falk’s blank expression, Ren flushed, losing any sense of confidence, and crawled over him until he could flop down on his side of the bed. He glared when Falk immediately put his book back on his lap to continue reading.
Ren made sure to be extra loud as he shuffled his blankets into place, huffing as he fluffed up his pillows.
He flopped down onto his side and tugged the blankets until they were properly nestled up against his face, hiding most of it besides his eyes.
He wanted to punch Falk when he saw he still wasn’t even glancing over at him.
“I can’t sleep with your light on,” Ren announced loudly.
“I’ll be another minute,” Falk hummed without missing a beat.
Ren nestled down further into the sheets until his entire face was covered. He shut his eyes—they felt sore from the new type of tired he was feeling—and tried to actually fall asleep.
He started dozing off, but still heard the far away sounds of Falk turning the light off, bathing the room in proper darkness, and then settling himself down under his own blankets.
Ren jolted when he felt a hand on the top of his head, fingers carding through his hair.
“Good night, Ren,” Falk murmured softly.
He peeked out from his cocoon. “Good night,” he mumbled.
He tried to ignore how he could hear Falk’s breaths, how much closer Falk felt to him in their bed, how easily he could shuffle over a few inches and be able to rest against the Alpha.
His pulse was pounding his throat at the thought and it took it several minutes to settle so Ren could doze off again—already ready for the night to be over and the morning to welcome him.