Chapter 11: Intense training
Chapter 11
Ronan leaned against the doorway of his small apartment, the soft hum of the city buzzing outside his window. The familiar, comforting scent of old leather and cleaning products filled the room. Noah sat cross-legged on the worn-out couch, scribbling something in his notebook with his usual stoic expression.
Ronan couldn't help but smile, his heart clenching with both relief and guilt. It had only been a day, but it felt like he'd been gone for weeks. Taking a step inside, he cleared his throat.
Noah didn't look up right away, just kept writing as if he hadn't noticed his dad enter. "Back from the dead, huh?" he muttered without missing a beat.
Ronan chuckled, shaking his head. "You make it sound like I died out there."
Noah finally glanced up, raising a brow. "You look like you did. Twice."
Ronan rubbed his bruised jaw, trying not to wince. "Just had a rough day at work. Nothing I can't handle."
Noah's lips twitched, almost forming a smirk. "Guess you didn't handle it well enough if you came back looking like roadkill."
Ronan walked over and ruffled his hair, but Noah swatted his hand away, feigning annoyance. "You know, most kids would be happy their dad's home," Ronan teased.
Noah shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm not most kids. Besides, Dean said you'd probably be fine, even if you got your face smashed in."
Ronan snorted. "That's comforting. Dean always knows how to put things delicately."