Alpha Assignment (BL) Chapter 55 (Early Access) (Patreon)

The following Tuesday, finally, there were no blockages between them and their painting class. Eveline and Wes were given a debrief by Quinn, followed by some words of encouragement for staying out of trouble from Remi that they seemed to prefer.

They were welcomed back with open, slightly worried, arms as Carla pulled them into a three-way hug the moment they walked through the door.

It was Remi that reacted more comfortably than Quinn, returning the squeeze and answering all of the concerned questions about where they had been, if they were feeling well, and how the weather had been treating them (as opposed to everyone else? Quinn queried only in his mind). The ladies that filled the room were all leaning in from their seats with kind smiles, listening to Remi’s half-true tale of a sick friend coming to stay. His little mate had become very capable at speaking to humans, even under pressure.

Their portraits were preserved in a small cupboard, patiently awaiting their return. Carla retrieved them while Quinn and Remi set up their easels, occasionally interrupted by someone welcoming them back. They had only missed a few weeks, but it had felt so much longer to Quinn - it was nice to hear he wasn’t alone in that sentiment. They were a bit stiff after time away, and they dawdled around with paint and brushes for a bit as they tried to find their flow again.

On the canvases currently were a pair of skin-coloured mannequin heads, one a little longer and more angular with thin ears, the other round and pinch-able, with pinky buttons projecting from each side. They approached with stubby pencils to work on the outlines of features.

The curve of Remi’s pout was tricky to get symmetrical. Carla called it a ‘Cupid’s Bow’ and showed him an angle that alleviated some of the strain on his hand while re-attempting the swooping shape over and over.

Remi moved past sketching much more quickly, and looked to Carla for help with Quinn’s colouring. Plenty of polite phrases were used to describe Quinn’s difficult-to-paint features, with the words ‘interesting’ and ‘unique’ peppered in aplenty. Although he had never met his biological family, or met anyone else that shared a similar appearance to him, he hadn’t realised he was that odd to look at.

“You can make me a yellow blonde if that would help,” Quinn chuckled at his Remi-blob.

Indignant, Remi protested, “I want it to look like you!”

“It’s possible,” Carla assured, standing between the pair like a mediator. “But we’ll need to go in thick with the white, then an incredibly pale yellow, and a bit of light grey to separate the hair from being a hat.” She watched Remi’s canvas for a few seconds, as though waiting for these colours to begin layering themselves. “Good thing you already laid background blanket colours down…”

They had decided to match background colours: a dark green, but washed over the canvas in a thin layer that didn’t overpower the central portraits. It suited them both, Quinn thought.

While the platinum helmet was drying, the next difficulty Remi faced was Quinn’s eyes. He began with grey disks that looked flat and devoid of life, and ran to Carla for help again. Together, they added flashes of silvery tones and white highlights that brought them to life. Quinn should have been working diligently at his own painting, but Remi’s creative process was wonderful to watch. He was slowly collecting dabs of paint up his hands and arms, across his apron, and even a smudge on his cheek. A little work of art all on his own.

Quinn also needed eye-colour support from Carla; with Remi’s eyes being so dark, he didn’t think swirling a pair of black circles would do them any justice. They sparkled and pulled a fellow soul in so deep, so suddenly, it startled. Carla demonstrated how to lighten the black just enough that the real black dabs would create depth, along with delicate white reflections.

With a last piece of advice to take the blush of Remi’s lips slow, and from the inside out, she left them to work independently again. They worked in silent tandem, wary of the passing of time at their back. There was an unspoken hope that they would finish that evening, and get to take the paintings home. It had been too long since they had added to their mini gallery in the upstairs hallway.

Class ended, and neither were finished. Carla announced they would be moving on to surrealism the following week, adding her signature caveat that those who wished to continue working on an existing piece could do so. Remi and Quinn shared excited smiles, hoping for next Tuesday to roll around sooner.

At home, their charges were watching TV, spaced as far apart as the sofa would allow. Eveline did not comment on Wes in anything but a professional manner, but Quinn got the impression that his fellow adult found him to be an obnoxious little shit, too. According to the motherly chat around the office water dispenser, this was to be expected from teenagers. Quinn had settled on a guesstimate of nineteen for Wes’ age, so maybe this was normal. Not for Quinn, at nineteen he had been able to pretend perfection in public while plotting his escape in private. Alphas were raised very differently, he had quickly learned.

Eveline and Remi took both bathrooms to wash up, and by consequence Quinn ended up on babysitting duty with Wes. He took the dip that Eveline had vacated and tried to give his attention to a TV show with fake laughter playing every thirty seconds. It was quite jarring.

“Um,” was Wes’ conversation starter.

Quinn glanced over, and the young man was fumbling with the remote to drag the volume down. He placed it down on the arm of the sofa when the room was quiet.

“I wanted to say that… I’m sorry.”

Quinn groaned. “We were gone all of two hours, what did you do?”

“Nothing!” Wes bleated. “I just talked to Eveline.”

“If you hurt her feelings it’s her you should be apologising to.”

“No, we talked about my old pack…”

Quinn’s body stiffened without his intent. “Don’t tell me you want to go back there.”

“Fuck no,” Wes grumbled, flashing guilty eyes up at Quinn for the cuss word. Quinn didn’t give a fuck, Remi wasn’t in the room to hear it. “We talked about showing proper respect and stuff.”

“You know I don’t care about that prostrating shit.”

“Yeah, but I kinda realised…” He shrugged his shoulders, scratched at his hair, anything to delay admitting his revelation. “I got so used to being in trouble with my alpha - no matter what I did I was in the shit - that I just stopped caring. If I was going to get beat up anyway, why bother with manners?”

“I’m sorry to hear it.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t punish me at all so… I’m thinking… Why am I still being a jerk?”

“It’s a thought I’ve shared, kid.”

Half of a wonky grin pulled at his cheek. “Yeah. Anyway, I talked to Eveline and she said I need to ‘break the cycle’ or something. I got too used to being in trouble all the time so I just kept letting it happen… but this is different and… I wanna stay.”

“Well, you know the way to do it - treat everyone like you would like to be treated. Everyone is your equal, except Remi because he’s the most important person under this roof.”

Wes chuckled and nodded.

“He is also the person you really owe an apology to.”

“Yeah, and I will, Alpha.” His eyes lit up, and it regressed him again in that way that caught Quinn’s certainty about his age and rattled it. “Promise.”

He wanted to ask, but Remi was calling - and probably wet and nude - so he jumped up and left Wes to watch TV until his own bath and bedtime.

Quinn winced halfway up the stairs, maybe it was time for him to start noting down more of the advice passed between the office mothers…