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It was a common sentiment among the Heartslabyul students that Riddle Rosehearts had one of the single most terrifying laughs on campus, one that only increased in frequency after the overblot incident. A sentiment that Trey felt inclined to agree with.
To outsiders, the most common assumption was linked directly with his ruthless reputation–that when the tyrant laughed, heads would roll, a bell to toll for the unfortunate or unscrupulous. He couldn’t blame them for assuming as such, especially with how Riddle frequently, unintentionally reinforced the image, but it bothered Trey the most out of all the rumors; Such a thing couldn’t be further from the truth. There was no joy in his beheadings, no laughter, only frustration and disappointment and at most a smug chuckle when someone truly deserving got their comeuppance.
And then usually when Riddle did laugh, it didn’t land anywhere close to “terrifying,” which only gave way to more rumors. Light, airy, pleasant like wind chimes or the clinking of a teacup on a saucer, his smile as sweet as sugar and twice as addicting, and his nose would crinkle in just the cutest way. Adorable would be a fitting term, Trey thought. It always echoed in his ears for hours afterwards.
No, the problems began when he really got going.
Getting Riddle to laugh at all beyond a giggle or a snicker or a snort was rare. Getting him to truly let loose was a once in a blue moon event. The harder he’d laugh, the more it would metamorphose into something downright chilling; Louder, rawer, heavier and punched out, the gasps audible and guttural, until he was all but cackling. A sound that would fit better erupting from the mouths of mad scientists or slasher film killers.
It scared the crap out of both Trey and Chenya the first time as children. They both practically leapt a foot off the ground.
“Woah!”
“What the heck?!”
Riddle flinched, his laugh cut short. He pulled his arms close to himself, hung his head, and tried to withdraw. “S-sorry! That was…really loud…”
Chenya immediately snatched up both of Riddle’s hands in his too-long sleeve-paws. “Do it again!”
“Huh?”
“That was so cool! I didn’t know you could make a sound like that!”
Riddle blinked owlishly at him twice, then turned his bewilderment to Trey, who reflected his look right back. Once his heart rate lowered to something akin to normal again (though not entirely, and he wouldn’t come to understand why until years had passed) it was replaced with curiosity.
“Yeah, I…wanna hear it again too,” he eventually said.
The overblot incident was the first time most of the dorm had heard it, so it was no wonder why many scattered like mice when, a little over a month later, Riddle caught everyone unaware by doubling over and barking out his laughter in the middle of a croquet tournament, loud enough for those inside to catch wind of what they thought was their impending doom. Trey didn’t even see what caused it, occupied with walking two freshmen through the terms and prizes when it began, his only warning a faint, startled yelp. The next thing he knew students were bolting for the gates, and Riddle leaned most of his weight on his flamingo, one hand pressed to his face as he howled.
Later, Deuce would describe the visceral fight or flight instinct it triggered, like he was being chased. Ace swore he heard a thunderclap in the background. It was amusing by then, sure, but Trey kept looping back to the sharp pang of sadness that speared his chest when Riddle recollected himself and looked around the abandoned field, confusion, realization, embarrassment, shame, acceptance flicking across his expression at a blinding pace.
Because for all he agreed with the laugh being terrifying, he adored it. Cherished it. The sound made his heart soar to heights the pleasant ring of Riddle’s softer chuckles could never reach.
It was chaotic, unhinged, unabashedly wild–the very antithesis to everything Riddle’s mother had beaten into him, to the image of regality and rigid strictness he strived to achieve. So overwhelmingly, uproariously amused that he became incapable of holding himself back. A delicious irony that Trey treasured every scarce moment of.
Which was why as he sat there on the edge of his bed, laughing alongside Riddle rolling around on the blanket, clutching his stomach and absolutely losing his mind, he felt like his heart was threatening to burst. The complete opposite image from whatever malicious, villainous machinations one would’ve expected to find behind the closed door if the noise was the only hint given.
Cater sent Trey a video he’d found, and Trey showed it to Riddle. It was funny, sure, but something about it had caught Riddle off guard and he was gone from the word go, no gradual build up, right from zero to a hundred with laughter. Between his hectic cackles and feeble attempts at getting oxygen, Trey could pick out weak cries of “It hurts!” and “Help!”
Well, he asked. Trey, still in the throes of his own guffaws, wiped the tears from his eyes and leaned back on the bed with one hand. Riddle rolled onto his back, seemingly with a grip on the reins. He sucked in a gasp…only to instantly dissolve into giggles into chortles into cachinnations all over again, curling in on himself as he rolled over and bumped into Trey’s arm. At that moment Trey caught his cheek to hold him in place and tried, tried, to kiss him. He barely got as far as pressing clumsy lips to Riddle’s open mouth before he wheezed and collapsed sideways. There was no saving either of them.
After what felt like several wonderful hours their laughter finally began to die down, when the tears blinded them both and the pain in their lungs and stomachs became too much to bear. On their backs, side by side, panting for air. Trey reached into his pocket for a cloth to clean his lens with trembling hands, and he coughed a couple times against his fist as he set his glasses back on his face. Glancing to the side, he found Riddle grinning at him, his face still so, so comfortably close that his breath fanned across Trey’s (and fogged his glasses back up slightly, not that he cared much right then), hair tousled and face wrought red from something other than anger for once. Just as uncaged and free as his laughter.
“May I try that again?” Trey blurted without thinking.
Riddle released a weak huff. “You may.”
Between the breathlessness and the sheer, overwhelming euphoria of the moment, of getting to experience it with Riddle, his head spun. It took him a second to properly roll onto his side and tug Riddle closer. This time when their lips met, they held firm.
Riddle’s laughter was a terrifying thing. And if hearing it meant scaring the entirety of the dorm half to death, well, that was a price Trey was willing to pay.