Work Text:
In hindsight it was a bad idea, but at the time it had seemed smart to learn how to stitch by copying Darius’s magic handiwork. He had not anticipated once he cut the string the entire thing would come undone.
“Fuck, what have I done.” Hunter sat at the steps of Hexside, on his only day off, hunched over his Golden Guard patch and cloak. A bundle of thread and a needle sat in his hands, him trying his best to even get the thread through the eye of the needle. He sighed, pulling everything together, off to looking for the art club, desperate for a student who could help him fix his mess.
-
The room was busy, the chattering of teenagers loud in his ears. A person immediately approached him, curious on why he was standing at the door, watching the hustle and bustle of the art room.
“Can I help you?” they asked, chewing their gum loudly before popping it in his face. He flinched back, wincing at the sudden pop.
“I’m just looking for someone who sews.” The stranger raised an eyebrow, before pointing to the corner of the room, where you were, measuring someone’s dimensions for a dress.
“They’ll help. They do that crap.” Then, they left, leaving Hunter in more confusion than he already was in. He shuffled awkwardly, bumping into strangers and apologizing on his way to the corner of the room, staring intently at you. You perked up once your model told you about Hunter’s staring, and you turned and smiled kindly.
“What can I do for you?” He met you, ears reddening in embarrassment. Your smile was blinding up close, and he almost wanted to shield his eyes.
“I was told you could help with this?” He lifted up his bundle of clothes, grimacing in an attempt to return your grin.
You beamed even brighter, if possible. “Let’s sit down and have a look, shall we?”
-
After examining the situation, you started conversation.
“You’re a beginner right? I’m sorry if this is rude but if you can’t sew this you need to learn the basics.”
“No, you’re right. Could you help me?”
“Sure! Do you have thread?”
“Mhm.” He pulled out his sad bundle of thread, which made you chuckle. His ears blushed again.
“I’ll give you a needle.” You pulled a needle out of the liger pincushion on your wrist, threading the thread through the needle easily. He thought about interrupting you, saying he had his own, but he just set his down on a desk, using yours.
“Cut it and fold it in half, then tie a knot.” You instructed, handing him scissors. He obeyed, folding the string in half, and cut a long strip of thread. He then tied a knot at the end, securing the needle in the middle of the loop of thread.
“Now, pin your patch into place where you want it. Here’s some pins.” You hand him some of the pins off your pincushion. “Look, here’s how you pin it.” The pin goes in the patch and the fabric, and out through the same way. He repeats this action until all sides of the thin patch are secured.
“Now, take your needle and start from the cloak side, going to the patch side. Make loops like this.” You demonstrate how the thread goes in a ➰ fashion a couple times before you hand him the needle. “Simple right?”
“You make it seem so easy.”
“Practice makes perfect!” You chirp, watching him struggle to imitate you. “Oh, you have to dip it into both the cloth and the patch.” You pull out a few stitches easily, before fixing his mistake, Hunter intently watching. “Here, now you try.” He successfully makes a few stitches, slowly completing the entire thing.
“Make sure when you end, you end with the needle on the ‘ugly side’.” You make quotation marks. “The side with the knot. Now make another knot, but make sure it goes to the base of the thread.” He copies your instructions, waiting on you like a puppy. “Now cut the rest of the string off but leave a little so the knot doesn’t come undone, maybe double knot it if you’re feeling like it might come apart.” He double knots it before taking the scissors and cutting the excess thread off. “Tada! You’re done.”
He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Thanks.”
“No problem, stranger.”
Hunter gets up to leave before pausing and stating, “It’s… Caleb.”
“Bye Caleb. Come visit me whenever for sewing advice!”
Only when he was walking down the Hexside steps did he realize he never got your name.