chapter 17

Rhonin had never eaten this fast in his life.

He was practically inhaling the food, shoveling bite after bite into his mouth like a man who had just escaped a six-month prison diet. The warm spices, the perfectly cooked vegetables, the actual fucking flavor—it was almost overwhelming.

Across the table, Elian ate at a normal, respectable pace, occasionally glancing up as Rhonin stuffed his face like a rabid animal.

It took Rhonin an embarrassing amount of time to realize how feral he looked.

He swallowed hard, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sighed. "Shit. Sorry. That was—uh, I haven't had a proper meal in a while."

Elian tilted his head slightly. "You don't have to apologize. I'm glad you like it."

"Like it?" Rhonin scoffed. "Dude, if you keep cooking like this, I might start worshipping you."

A flicker of amusement crossed Elian's face but he quickly looked down, poking at his food. "I don't think I'd enjoy that."

Rhonin smirked. "Fair."

Silence stretched between them for a few moments—comfortable but still carrying that awkward new-housemate energy.

Rhonin cleared his throat. "So, uh… how long have you been living here?"

"A few weeks," Elian said simply.

"You like it?"

Elian paused, considering. "It's nice."

Rhonin raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like a 'Not really, but I'm dealing with it.'"

Elian shook his head. "No, I really do like it. It's just… different."

"Different how?"

Elian hesitated, then subtly shifted the conversation. "What about you? Where were you staying before this?"

Rhonin exhaled, leaning back in his chair. "My car."

Elian blinked. "Your car?"

"Yup." Rhonin stabbed at a piece of food. "I mean, not ideal but you work with what you've got, y'know?"

Elian's fingers curled slightly around his fork, expression unreadable. "That must have been hard."

"Ehh." Rhonin shrugged, shoving another bite into his mouth. "Harder on my back than anything. Seriously, if I had to spend one more night curled up in my passenger seat, I'd probably need physical therapy."

A small, quiet laugh slipped out of Elian before he could stop it.

Rhonin grinned. "Did you just laugh?"

Elian cleared his throat, looking away. "I just— You're very… honest."

"I try." Rhonin smirked, then gestured around. "I hope you don't mind that I moved in. You had the place to yourself for a while, right?"

Elian nodded. "I did. But I don't mind."

"You sure?" Rhonin asked, tilting his head. "Because I don't want to step on your toes or whatever. You probably already have your stuff set up, your routines and shit."

Elian gave him a small, reassuring nod. "I hope you don't mind that I already settled my things around here."

"Nah, man, it's your space too," Rhonin said, waving a hand. "As long as you don't kick me out of my own room, we're good."

Elian let out another soft laugh, shaking his head. "I wouldn't do that."

"Good," Rhonin said, pointing his fork at him. "Because I fought too hard for that bed and I am never sleeping in my car again."

Elian gave him a quiet smile, then returned to eating.

Rhonin watched him for a second, debating on prying a little more—maybe asking where Elian came from, why he moved here alone, if he had family nearby. But something about the way Elian carried himself, how carefully he spoke, told Rhonin that he wasn't ready to talk about it.

So, for now, he let it go.

Instead, he focused on what was directly in front of him.

A warm meal. A real home. A quiet, shy omega who—despite barely knowing him—had gone out of his way to make sure he wasn't eating alone tonight.

And for once, Rhonin actually felt like he was settling in.

As soon as they finished eating, Elian quietly started gathering the plates, stacking them neatly.

Rhonin, still leaning back in his chair, immediately sat up. "Oh, hell no—"

Elian paused, blinking at him. "What?"

"Hey, you already cooked. No way I'm letting you do the dishes too," Rhonin said, standing up and grabbing the plates before Elian could protest. "Sit. Relax. I got this."

Elian hesitated, hands still hovering like he wasn't sure whether to take the dishes back or let Rhonin do it. "You don't have to—"

"I know I don't have to," Rhonin said, rolling his eyes as he carried everything to the sink. "But I'm not a complete asshole, so just let me return the favor, yeah?"

There was a pause.

Then, quietly, "Alright… Thank you."

Rhonin turned slightly, just in time to see the tips of Elian's ears turn pink.

…Huh. Cute.

He smirked. "No problem."

Turning back to the sink, he rolled up his sleeves and got to work, scrubbing the plates under warm water.

For a few minutes, there was just the sound of running water and clinking dishes.

Then, without thinking, Rhonin broke the silence. "You know, I was kinda surprised you didn't mind a housemate with an alpha."

Elian, who had been wiping down the table, paused slightly. "Why?"

"Well," Rhonin said, rinsing off a plate. "It's not exactly common for a single omega and a single alpha—who aren't bonded, related or even friends—to live together."

Elian didn't answer right away.

Rhonin glanced over his shoulder, making sure he wasn't freaking the guy out. "I mean—if I'm making you uncomfortable or whatever, just say the word and I'll back off."

Elian quickly shook his head. "It's not that."

"Then what?"

Elian hesitated, looking down as he fidgeted with the hem of his sweater. "I don't… think you're dangerous."

Rhonin blinked, turning off the water. "You don't even know me."

"I know that Mrs. Everly wouldn't let anyone dangerous live here," Elian said simply, looking up. "And I know that if you were… that kind of alpha, you wouldn't care about making me uncomfortable."

Rhonin stared at him for a second.

Then let out a short breath of laughter. "You got me there."

Elian gave him a small, knowing look. "And besides… I think I'd rather live with someone who talks too much than be alone."

Rhonin smirked, drying off the last plate. "Talking too much? You wound me."

Elian shook his head, amused but didn't argue.

As Rhonin put the dishes away, he stole another glance at his new housemate—small, soft-spoken, yet holding his own in the conversation.

Yeah. This was gonna be interesting.

He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he eyed Elian thoughtfully. "Still kinda surprised Mrs. Everly let me rent the place, though."

Elian glanced up.

"I mean, most landlords would've taken one look at the combo like us and said, 'Absolutely fucking not.'"

Elian hummed, considering that. "She trusts people."

"That's risky," Rhonin pointed out. "What if I was an asshole?"

Elian didn't even hesitate. "Then you wouldn't be standing in my kitchen doing dishes."

Rhonin blinked, then let out a sharp laugh. "Fair point."

Elian just nodded, seemingly satisfied with that answer.

Rhonin exhaled, shaking his head. "Still, I gotta admit… kind of refreshing. People usually take one look at me and assume the worst."

Elian tilted his head slightly, hazel eyes curious. "Really?"

Rhonin smirked. "Dunno."

Elian studied him for a moment, then looked down at the table. "Well, I insisted that you're a nice alpha."

Rhonin definitely wasn't expecting that.

For a second, he didn't know what to say. Because… fuck, that was probably the nicest thing someone had said to him in a while.

But instead of making a big deal out of it, he just snorted, pushing himself off the counter. "You should probably raise your standards for alphas, man."

Elian gave him the tiniest hint of a smile. "Maybe."

Rhonin shook his head, amused before stretching his arms with a loud yawn. "Alright. You win, I'm done being productive for today. I'm crashing."

Elian nodded. "Goodnight, Rhonin."

Rhonin paused, then smirked. "Goodnight, Bambi."

Elian blinked. "What?"

"Nothing," Rhonin said quickly, already making his way toward his room before he could get murdered.

And for the first time in a long time, he was actually looking forward to waking up tomorrow.