Chapter Text
Cater sighed to himself, reaching out and rubbing his fingers over the petals of the white roses in the garden of Heartslabyul. With no special event coming up, the flowers could remain as is instead of needing red paint applied. Cater had never really been out here unless he needed to be, so it was a rare moment to see them in their natural state until the next party.
With the sun setting and casting a golden light on their petals, they were definitely Magicam perfect on top of just being naturally beautiful. Cater lifted his phone, aiming it at the roses carefully to get the best angle. He hadn't posted today, which was unusual for his followers. He just really didn't have the energy to keep up with it the past few days. But If you want to stay relevant then you have to put in the work.
Just before his finger came down on the shutter button, an angered shout sounded from a few rows of rose bushes over. Normally he'd ignore it. Not him, not his problem. Unfortunately, the voice that followed the scream was painfully familiar. So investigating it was.
Cater shoved his phone back in his pocket and took off for where he heard the person's voice. Magicam post could wait. He was silently relieved that he didn't have to worry about it for now.
The closer he got to where it sounded like the first yell came from, the louder the voice got. Whoever it was muttered angrily, Metallic things clanging around. Another particularly loud shout made Cater jump. Yeah, he definitely knew who this was.
There was no denying that the person in the garden with him was Housewarden Riddle.
If he was mad, nothing good could come of an interaction. But Cater had long since gotten used to sweet talking his way out of punishment with Riddle. If you knew the right buttons to push then anyone could do it, really. Not that they ever had the guts to rise to Riddle's infamous anger. With all that in mind, he cautiously peered around the hedge.
What he saw was…not what he was expecting. Riddle was decked out in his gym uniform, buckets of paint at his feet. He was rubbing furiously at his right sleeve, an angry grunt leaving his throat when paint ended up all over his other hand. He must have gotten it on his clothes, which was the source of his anger to begin with. Now he was just making it worse.
Cater might have already gone out to offer his help, but he was hung up on a few… glaringly obvious things that were just wrong about this situation. The first being the fact Riddle was out here painting by himself. Going off that, it was also weird he was painting when there were no parties coming up. There was no reason to paint. The last thing that just screamed ‘Something isn’t right!’ was the fact Riddle wasn't using red paint, as was customary for The Queen’s rules, but Bright Blue instead.
Cater took a deep breath in, rolling his shoulders back. Something was potentially wrong with Riddle and it wouldn't be right to leave him like this. Despite how much his brain screamed for him to just leave it alone and go the other way. He wasn’t really sure what was possessing him into helping.
The situation was… less than favorable.
“Riddle!” Cater called out, forcing a smile on his face as he finally came around the corner. He had to play this very carefully if he wanted to make it out safe enough. It was a good thing he had all the right cards to play in his hands. “What’re you doin’?”
The housewardwen jumped, foot knocking into the one open can of paint and nearly spilling it across the grass. “Cater!” He swallowed heavily, hands flying behind his back to hide the mess Cater already knew about. He stepped in front of the paint on the ground as if he hadn't just knocked into it. “Nothing. You shouldn't be out here. It’s nearly curfew.”
“I could say the same to you, Mr.Rule Follower.” Riddle’s face flushed and he frowned at Cater’s jab. The third year tossed his dorm head a wink. “Just kidding.” He stepped farther into the small open space, reaching out towards Riddle.
“What?”
“Give me your arms.”
Slowly, Riddle retracted his hands from behind his back and offered them out. He looked away from Cater, lips trembling. It looked like he was ready to get scolded by a parent. Cater’s chest tightened with the memories of what happened that day in the gardens. The things Riddle had told them while he was resting in the infirmary following his unfortunate overblot.
Not wanting to address it and potentially make Riddle uncomfortable, Cater reached down slowly for his Magic Pen. He used a simple spell to clean the stain of paint off the younger boy’s sleeve and another to wash it from his hands. He stepped back to a reasonable distance before putting his pen away.
Riddle looked down at his clean hands and clothes, mouth popped open in surprise. Looks like he really was expecting something else.
Cater tried not to think about it too much. That wouldn't do either of them any good right now. Especially considering they probably weren't even actually friends. Riddle himself even said he only ever had Trey and Che’nya. They all knew that hadn't lasted very long. Things were just starting to get better for those three. There was no way Cater was on the list of ‘new friends.’ for Riddle. He hated to admit it, but he was glad it was that way. If they had been friends, Cater would have had to adapt to the situation. It was easier to stay away and not get close. Playing perfect card soldier was something he was already good at.
Ignoring the hollow feeling in his stomach, Cater turned towards the tall rose bush that Riddle had been attempting to paint, setting his hands on his hips. Now wasn't the time for any of that. “So. What’re you doing out here Housewarden?”
“I…” Riddle’s voice was oddly quiet. “I wanted to try something new.”
Cater hummed. “And you aren't using Magic becauuuuuuse…?”
Riddle dropped into a crouch by his bucket of paint, stirring the brush in it absentmindedly. He was using it to distract from the situation and hide his face. “I wanted to be able to do it myself for once.” He picked the brush up, letting it plop back down into the full bucket. Paint splashed up and out onto the grass. “But I keep making a mess and it’s not covering the roses right. There are streaks and It's blotchy.” The more he spoke, the angrier he sounded. His hands were shaking as he reached out and grabbed the brush again. Cater could see a little bit of the younger boy's face, taking note of the red hue that darkened his skin.
Cater dropped down, reaching to ease the brush from Riddle’s white knuckled grip. “Well for starters, this isn't the right paint. It’s blue, not red.” Cater waited for a moment to see what Riddle would say.
“I wanted to… Trey said…” He grit his teeth together, hands settling against his legs and gripping the fabric of his pants like a lifeline. Cater remained quiet for him to collect his thoughts. “You guys told me it was fine to make mistakes, so I wanted to try and break the rules a little but… why is this so hard?” That was right, wasn’t it. Cater vaguely remembers Riddle breaking down after his overblot, sobbing out that he didn't really care about the rose or flamingo color. How he seemed willing to put jam on scones, instead of the Dormouse. The overall lax in his tyranny.
Cater hummed, standing with the brush of blue paint in hand. This was gonna be risky. He walked right up to the rose bush, plopping the wet brush onto the soft petals and painting it on thick. “You don't have to push yourself, you know. It’s already good you let up on the others. That should be enough.”
“But it’s not.” Riddle seethed. “People are still uncomfortable around me, Cater. I'm tired of having to be something I'm not because of my family. I just can't get past it and I hate it!” He went from whispering to yelling very quickly, the muffled sound of his fist hitting the ground barely audible.
Those words made Cater pause mid brushstroke.They were familiar. Long ago, he used to tell himself the same thing. When his mom and sisters would force cute things on him. When they expected him to act a certain way because they liked him that way. The way those words had taken hold and even to this day he couldn't do anything without thinking if it was ‘cute’ enough for them. There was still a big difference between him and Riddle but… there was also a bit of familiarity in their situations.
Cater had learned to work around and live with his restrictions. To play the part well enough until it became yet another lie in his arsenal of personalities. Much like his Unique Magic, Cater was split down to different facades. For other people's wants and needs, he could be anything they desired. He was used to it. He wasn't even sure who the real Cater was anymore.
Unlike him, Riddle was shackled to the one. Raised to believe he had to be perfect and even faking it meant punishment. He never had a choice or a way out like Cater did. Riddle was brought up on those rules, believing them to be absolute. Trying to completely turn around the life forced on him would be hard, but not impossible.
With everything that had happened with his Overblot, and the truths he admitted to, it made sense why he’d want to break out of that. School was his one safe place away from his mothers control. Much the same as Cater and his siblings demands.
He had to help in any way he could. Riddle deserved to have someone actually guide him to getting better. Even though his advice probably wasn't the best, it was as close as they’d ever get.
Cater turned and made his way back to where the housewarden was still kneeling. He crouched down across from Riddle, reaching for one of the extra brushes set off to the side. He dipped that one, plus his own, into the open can.
Keeping one for himself, he handed the other to a very confused Riddle. “Start smaller.” Cater offered. “By painting the roses, you break the rule on the queen working instead of the card soldiers, non-white roses on an uneventful day, the color blue as opposed to red, and this isnt the approved time for rose painting which is noon. Right?” Riddle flinched back, but nodded anyway. He was clearly confused on where this was going. “Don’t try and break all four at once or you’ll overthink it too much.”
“They’re all tied together though. How do you expect-”
Cater grinned, lifting his brush up and aiming it at Riddle. He used his thumb to scrape across the bristles and send splatters of paint flying across Riddle's clothes. Some of it even landed on his cheek, standing out against the rapidly appearing flush of his anger. “What is wrong with you!?!”
“A disorderly uniform.” Cater shrugged, gesturing to the mess. “One rule broken instead of four. And you didn't do it, I did. Totally not your fault.”
Riddle shook, his eyes dropping down from Cater’s and flickering over his messy gym uniform. “I…” His face crumpled. It was hard to tell if the emotion was anger or fear. Maybe both?
Cater frowned, dread building up in his chest. He might have made a mistake. Cater had the full deck to play at his disposal, but just dealt the Joker instead. If Riddle got upset, he’d be collared for at least two weeks over this. Maybe forever. That would so not be fun. ”Ah, Housewarden.” He let out a nervous laugh. “If you want, I can-”
“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!”
Cater flinched back at the sudden yell, falling backwards onto his butt in the grass. He had a second to dread the loss of his magic before something cold and wet slapped against his cheek.
Cater opened his eyes, not even realizing he had closed them. There was a discarded paint covered brush resting on his leg. He looked up at Riddle.
The boy’s eyes were wide, mouth dropped open as if surprised he actually did that. Cater was so startled by the sudden development that he tossed his head back with a loud, mostly genuine, laugh. He'd take the paint over the collar any day. "Guess I deserved that, huh?"
Riddle stuck his nose up, playing along. "You dared to break the rules in my presence, so I dished out a punishment I saw fit."
"Well played~" Cater tossed the brush back over as he stood, grinning when Riddle caught it with his bare hand and his nose wrinkled at the slap of wet paint against his skin. "Now come on. We have more rules to break"
Riddle stood as well, brows pulling together in confusion.
Cater wet his brush again, scraping the excess off back into the can so it wasn't dripping and approached Riddle. "Trust Me. 'Kay?"
Riddle nodded hesitantly. Cater reached out slowly and grabbed his chin, angling his face to the side for better access. Although crude looking, Cater managed to paint a heart next to Riddle’s right eye. He took great care to not get too close so as to not agitate it. "I declare you a temporary card soldier! According to the queen's rules, you may now paint." Cater finished with a wink.
"....Did you just demote me?"
"Uuuh-"
Riddle sighed, rolling his eyes. "You're lucky you have any authority at all. But as the Housewarden, I give permission anyway. Just this once!"
"Then it's official! You're now a member of the heart suite of Heartslabyul!" Cater turned to their rose bush, lifting a finger to his lip. Using terrible acting skills to convey his joke, Cater continued. "Oh, but would you look at that? We messed up the time! Instead of 10 am, we're doing it at 10 pm." He shrugged. "Unfortunately, these still need painting. Too bad it's so dark we can't see the colors properly."
"Yes, how unfortunate indeed." Riddle smiled softly. "I suppose we still have a job to do though. Queen forbid, we don't do our work."
“Oh yes, we’d lose our heads for sure.”
The two of them shared smiles. "Then let's get started!" Cater shouted triumphantly, marching towards the bush ahead.
And so they did. For the next hour and half the two of them worked away at the rose bushes In the clearing. They took their time, Cater occasionally having to stop and reassure Riddle that everything was okay and he had nothing to be upset over.
In the end, the Housewarden had painted maybe five or six flowers total. Despite his desire to break and bend the rules, he was weary of making it imperfect. Most of his time was spent meticulously painting every little crease there was. Perfectionism was time consuming.
"Thank you…" Riddle whispered from where he was standing on one of the many ladders in the garden.
"Hm?" Cater’s heart beat a heavier tune in his chest. That always happened when someone thanked him for things. When they approached genuinely. It wasn't something he was used to and more often than not it made him uncomfortable. They had no reason to be thankful for anything he did. If only they knew the truth of the lies he told to please them.
"My mother never allowed me to have friends." Riddle focused on his flower, leaning closer like he wasn't spilling some of his deeper secrets into the night. "Told me they were a distraction that could only bring misbehavior."
Cater remained silent, reaching over to turn the soft music that was playing on his phone off. Now was so not the time for pop tunes.
"After what happened, and what you all told me I-" He paused, drawing in a deep breath. "I wanted to change all that. It's why I came out here. Truth is, I almost backed away from this. I couldn't figure it out but you…. you helped me. My mom might think they’re worthless, but I'm glad to have friends like you now."
Cater tensed, Riddle’s words sinking in slowly. Like a feather through honey.
….friends?
Since when had that happened? Cater ran through everything in his head. The brief interactions he had with the dorm head, most of which were strictly dorm related work 'reports', playing on repeat. There was no way any of what he did conveyed friendship. The very thought made his stomach churn.
Cater must have been hearing things. That was it. Because why would anyone grow attached? He did his best to keep that distance. To brush off the friendly advances and seem enjoyable, but never too close. He moved around so much as a child, it was always difficult to connect with anyone. He split himself to be perfect for others. So he could have acquaintances. Not this.
So why?
"What are you two doing?"
Cater jumped, snapping from his downward spiral and turning toward the entrance to their section of the garden. Trey was standing there in his pajamas, phone held up for a flashlight in one hand and the other resting on his hip disapprovingly. "Uh-"
Riddle scrambled down from the ladder, nearly tripping in his haste. "T-Trey!"
"We're painting!" Cater called with a wink, waving his brush above his head.
"...at midnight?"
“perfect time for it, honestly.” Cater waved it off, hoping he’d just drop it. The longer Trey stood there questioning them, the more Riddle began to fidget. It was clear that getting caught was affecting him.
“While I'm glad you two are getting along, it’s late and we have classes tomorrow.” Trey frowned at the two of them.
“I-” Riddle looked down to the ground, shoulders hiking up in shame. Cater stepped up and slung an arm around him, squeezing to convey a silent ‘it’s okay’.
All his hard work, right down the drain.
“I’ll clean up here, you go with Trey.” He stepped back and gave a mock salute. “That’s the job of a card soldier after all.”
“Are you sure?” Riddle sucked in a heavy breath, looking at the rose bushes they had messed with. “I started this, maybe I should be the one to-”
“Don't worry about it.” Trey called, shifting on his feet. “Let Cater clean up. You need to go to bed. Don't you have a test coming up in one of your classes tomorrow?”
Riddle straightened up, face falling. “How could I forget!” While the boy had already done his required studying, sleep was still important before a test of any kind.
Cater pushed lightly on Riddle’s back to urge him forward. “Onward, your highness! Lest you be late for your very important rest.”
Him and Trey were out of the garden without another word, heads ducked down as they whispered who knows what between one another.
As soon as they disappeared around the hedges, Cater relaxed.
That so hadn’t gone how he planned.
A simple in and out fix turned paint session and now here was, as alone as ever. The hollow words of ‘friends like you’ echoed a haunting tune in his mind.
Cater refused to believe it was true. How was he supposed to wrap his head around this?
After Eighteen years of pretending and working his way around the attachments, whether on purpose or not, he finally slipped up.
He can’t let it happen again, lest they find out the truth he hides.