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The wedding had been during the summer, because of course it was. Ren had always wanted a summer wedding on the cliff side of a grassy mountain. Martyn had listened to him ramble on about it for almost thirty minutes until their little shop door gave its normal ring of its bell to signal a customer had walked in.
Renchanting Book Shop had been opened up on a cold winter’s end, between the city bank and the salary men's office building, sitting just out of sight of the main street. Ren had constructed a sign made of old wood that had rotted on the inside, pointing customers to the store in the suspicious alleyway. The inside was anything but that, with a welcoming aroma of maple and walls lined with multi color books of various length and subject.
Ren never organized the books by genre or author, claiming that if the book wanted to be found by someone, it would make itself known. Martyn had found it silly at first, growing up in a family of librarians and English teachers, the proposed idea had been absolutely absurd. He was used to the organization that came from painstakingly organizing books along long metal book shelf and the scolding that came if they were out of place. He knew the dewey decimal system better than basic addition by the time he had turned thirteen and found comfort in the quiet that came with sitting on itchy library carpet, reading the newest thing he could get his hands on.
Ren had been such a shock to meet. As much as he loved libraries, Martyn did enjoy indulging in buying his own books, having come up with a system by the time he got his first job. Every two months, he would give himself a hard limit of sixty bucks and go buy himself a few books. Sometimes he came home with three new titles, other days he came home with simply a new bookmark. The day he had met Ren, in the tiny well lit shop that was lined with ornate wooden bookshelves so full they nearly toppled over, Martyn had come home with one book and a new job.
Martyn had few words to describe Ren: rambunctious, charming, handsome. Most of all though, Ren was down right enchanting, ironically enough. Something about the way he talked, with his hands constantly in motion and with the energy of a puppy dog, Ren had won Martyn over with a few simple words and a free book.
The Tale of the Red King had been what Ren handed Martyn the day they met. He had even allowed Martyn to sit on a beanbag behind the desk. His stupid grin and the promises of a free sweet treat so long as Martyn took it were all he needed to say yes.
The story had been not from the perspective of the Red King, but his personal knight, only called the Hand. Martyn thought the story was nice, a bit slow towards the beginning but picked up a bit in the middle. If Martyn had set down the book at any point before the end, he probably wouldn’t have ever picked it up again. Something that day, maybe it was the space heater keeping him warm or the cookie that tasted better than his grandmother’s, but Martyn had stayed until the street lights turned on to finish the book in one sitting.
In the small book shop, behind the desk on a frayed bean bag that needed a good fluff, Martyn had cried about a book for the first time ever. Maybe that was what made him take the job so easily, a man who was able to hand him a book that shook him so bad he was physically sobbing. Ren had confessed, after the initial alarm of Martyn’s crying, that he had just felt like it was something that would be important to Martyn, even if he had never read it.
When Ren had asked, weeks later, why Martyn had accepted the job with little hesitation, he made up some wispy tale of needing some extra cash and other poor excuses to hide the real reason. Martyn didn’t need Ren to touch more of his soul then he had already had. Martyn thought about that book every night after reading it, wishing he could go back and read it for the first time again. He almost regretted reading it all in one sitting, wishing he had taken him time to absorb it. He tried to reread it once, on a Saturday night when he had nothing else to do, but it just wasn’t the same.
Nothing was ever the same after that day, because somehow, some way, Ren had taken Martyn’s soul gently in his hands and cradled it with care without his permission.