Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It all started with a skirt.

Not just a skirt. The skirt, Trey dubbed it.

It was a green plaid miniskirt that was long enough to brush the tips of his knees as he walked. It had been hidden in Cater’s closet for some time, Cater not giving it any thought because of the uniform he was expected to wear every day.

When Crowley introduced the prospect of a no-uniforms day, Cater was ecstatic. He had tons of clothes he hadn’t been able to show off other than during house parties, it was his chance!

“School isn’t a fashion show,” he could hear his mother’s voice in his head, teasing him. “Only bring 3 outfits.”

Of course, Cater didn’t listen to her and brought as many outfits as he damn well pleased.

For the first no-uniform day, the skirt wasn’t even one of the final 5 outfits he had narrowed it down to. He opted to wear black cargo pants and a sweater instead, the weather was too cold to allow for anything else. 

Then, Crowley announced these no-uniform days would be weekly. 

That holiday break, Cater smuggled about 10 more outfits from his house, much to his mother’s dismay. 

The first day that was above 60 degrees Cater pounced at the chance to wear something that wasn’t pants.

What he had decided upon? The green plaid miniskirt with a faded black graphic tee donned a skateboard in the middle.

He proudly exited his dorm the following day, rushing to the bathroom where the full-body mirror was. Cater must have snapped at least 50 photos, each one featuring him in a different pose or posing with unsuspecting individuals who entered the bathroom.

Are we feeling the skirt? #no-uniform day #plaid #yesidoactuallyskateboard

Cater was satisfied with the post; some people had already liked and commented! The first bell rang and Cater dragged himself to the first class of the day: Personal Finance and Economic Advising.

The class was now required for all students (courtesy of Azul’s underground backdoor gambling racket) and was taught by Professor Rodentis, a new addition to the staff as of the beginning of his junior year. Rodentis was a grumpy man. He brooded at his desk 24/7, grumbling whenever the class was left to do work alone. He never did partner or group work and despised sidebar conversations in his classroom. This caused an influx of seat changes once he realized he had sat the Leech twins and Azul with each other and Rook and Cater next to Vil, leaving them to gossip during independent work time. He often refused restroom breaks for the students or really any type of break, saying it was “their responsibility to go before class” or “what do you need a break from exactly?” when asked. He was a ridiculously harsh grader, picking apart even the smallest mistakes within their reports for class and docking dozens of points. That being said, no one really liked him or his class. This was even true for Riddle, the strictest rule follower he knew. 

“Unfortunately, he’s a substitute for my other classes occasionally too,” Riddle explained.

So, when Cater moped into the class, he obviously wasn’t too thrilled to be there.

Cater took his seat beside Jade (who he was moved next to after endlessly chattering with his previous seatmates) and took out his notebook. Like Cater, Jade was often bored in class and would doodle in his notebook and discreetly pass around his sketches to his twin who sat behind him. 

“Cater, did you complete the homework?” Jade asked him, not even looking up from his seat. 

“Yep!” Cater answered with a smile. It was about 5 seconds after that he realized he didn’t actually remember. He had been so caught up in organizing his outfit…

“Quiet everyone!” Professor Rodentis’s voice made Cater jump. Had he just arrived at his own class?

Rodentis moved from his desk to the front of the class. “We’ll be taking notes again today, the test is tomorrow. Review your notes and you should do fine on the test. I trust most of you understand how to study?” 

The class nodded in silence. Next to him, Jade giggled at an archaic doodle of Professor Rodentis drawn with a large stick protruding from his uh- backside. Cater tried to stifle a laugh as well when he saw the image. 

“I trust that those laughing will get the highest scores in the class as well,” Professor Rodentis commented, making Jade and Cater stop laughing immediately.

Jade folded the paper and placed it in his notebook.

“Today, we’re going to talk about how to spot economic scams, schemes, or just overall shady deals. Considering the circumstances I was hired under, I’m sure a few people in this class could benefit from this.” Rodentis looked Azul directly in the eyes who looked away and pushed up his glasses. “First point of today is…”

Cater yawned. The class dragged on. 

“A pyramid scheme, also known as a Ponzi scheme or ‘MLM’, is one of the most common schemes you may see,” Rodentis droned. Cater rested his head on his cheek. It was becoming increasingly difficult to pay attention to the lesson and Cater had gotten to a point where he had stopped taking notes entirely. 

Cater eyed the clock. 15 till. How had only 30 minutes passed?!

“Fifth point-” 

Cater’s eyelids were like his suitcases as he traveled anywhere, heavy and weighing him down more each time he tried picking them up. It was like a game of tug of war. He was trying to tug himself away from sleep’s grasp, but sleep had more of a stronghold. 

By the eighth point of the lesson, Cater succumbed to sleep. He could get the notes from Trey later, anyways. 

A light nudge on his shoulder woke him up from his nap. Cater pulled himself out of his slumber, waking up to Jade motioning to the clock.

12:30. It was almost over. 

Finally , Cater thought. Even while I was asleep it dragged on.

The bell rang. Cater collected his stuff and got up to leave. As he did so, Rodentis looked at him with a confused look on his face. 

Shit, he caught me sleeping. 

“Diamond, why are you wearing that ?” Rodentis said with genuine surprise in his voice. Cater was a little surprised but shrugged it off. Perhaps Professor just had never seen a guy wearing a skirt before. He was an older man, after all.

“I love love loved the outfit! I spent about an hour picking it out-” Cater explained happily. 

“So, you picked a skirt ? No respectable male mage wears skirts,” Rodentis interrupted him. Rodentis’s words slapped him in the face. Not everyone in the class had left yet, so a lot of them were left staring. “In fact, no respectable man would ever wear a skirt.”

Cater was at a loss for words. He felt all eyes in the room on him.

“I- uhm,” Cater struggled for a way to respond. “I just like-”

“You like dressing like a woman? Is there something wrong with you?” Rodentis sneered.

Cater felt a lump forming in his throat and tears burning in his eyes.

Everyone was still staring. 

Cater sprinted out of the room without another word.

---

There Cater was once again, in the same bathroom he had been in earlier. He rushed right back to the Heartslabyul dorm, knowing there was no way he could go to any of his classes having a breakdown.

Last time, he had been schmoozing with the people entering the bathroom and happily taking pictures.

This time, he was sobbing by himself in one of the stalls.

Is there something wrong with you?

Cater replayed the scene repeatedly in his head.

No respectable male mage…

He wanted nothing more than to bury the stupid green plaid skirt in a deep deep hole. Leave it at home and give it to one of his sisters. Never wear it again.

Never ever again, Cater promised himself. 

He thought he’d looked so cute. Even if he had, his mascara was toiled by his tears and his shirt was soiled by his snot.

Is there something wrong with you?

Cater’s phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a facetime from Trey.

There was no way he was going to answer a video call looking the way he did.

He let it ring.

Trey: You okay?

Cater placed his phone face down on his thigh, letting it buzz again with another call. Cater sniffled and picked it up again, once again ignoring Trey’s call.

Trey: I don’t think you’re okay.

Trey: I’m coming to your dorm. 

Shit.

His phone buzzed with another text.

Cater: Yeah! I’m great! I felt a little nauseous so I went back to my dorm. Cay Cay is a-okay kay! Ty for worrying about me you are the sweetest!

Trey: I’m still coming over. 

Trey: Give me 5 minutes.

Trey: Crewel asked where you were and I told him you felt sick. He’s letting me come see you.

Cater realized Trey would go looking for him in his dorm room , so he couldn’t stay holed up in the bathroom. As Cater went to open the stall door, he heard people approaching. 

Cater pushed himself back on the toilet seat to allow his legs to come up so they wouldn’t be seen under the stall door.

“Yeah, did you see his Magicam post?”

Please don’t be talking about me. Cater begged. His breathing stilled, and his heart raced. His phone buzzed.

“With the skirt?”

His day just seemed to get worse and worse. His eyes filled with tears once again and he buried his face in his knees.

“Yeah! He had me take a pic with him earlier. I didn’t want to tell him but the skirt is a little odd…”

The skirt is a little odd.

“Well, he’s a dude wearing a skirt . It is odd.”

No respectable man-

Cater felt himself struggling to take full breaths, his lungs feeling like stones, heavy and making it impossible to draw in a breath. Cater buried his head further into his knees, trying to conceal the noise of his labored breathing. He could hear his heart pounding in his head, a terrifying feeling that ironically saved him from hearing any further into the conversation.

Time seemed to come to a screeching halt, leaving Cater alone and struggling in its midst.

He was convinced he was dying. 

If Trey saw him like this-

At the same time, he wished someone were there.

His thoughts jumbled together, and it became hard to focus on anything. The only things he could make out were the remarks replaying in his head over and over and over.

No respectable man.

Odd.

Is there something wrong with you?

And over and over.

Dude wearing a skirt.

Are you dressing like a woman?

And over and over and over and over and over and over…

No respectable male mage.

“Cater!” 

And over and over and over….

Odd. 

Inside his head was akin to a tornado, thoughts were thrown around like debris and spinning over and over-

Cater was trembling now, shaking with each sob but also with the panic he was feeling.

“Are you alright, Cater?” Trey inquired, knocking on the stall door. 

Cater jumped at Trey’s voice. Both happy and panicked he was here. Cater wiped his eyes with his sleeve, realizing he must look an absolute mess. He couldn’t answer Trey, not while sobbing his eyes out! He looked down at his sleeve, seeing the long streak of mascara running across it. His eyes were for sure red and puffy from the crying and he was still gasping for air. Yet, he still felt compelled to answer ‘I’m fine! Thank you Trey!’ and put on a fake smile.

Cater opted to not answer Trey at all.

“You alright in there, Cater?” Trey asked again. “You weren’t in your room so I went looking for you in here, which was a pretty good guess, huh?”

Cater buried his face back into his knees. There was really no way Trey wasn’t aware of his presence in the stall and probably wouldn’t leave until Cater acknowledged him.

“Tr-Trey-” Cater’s voice croaked, he couldn’t seem to get the words out. “I-”

“It’s last period right now so no one should be in the dorm hallways, so we can make our way back pretty easily,” Cater knew that Trey was rather referring to Cater’s desire to not want to be seen in his current condition rather than ease of movement. “Can you do something for me, Cater?”

Cater couldn’t get any sound of acknowledgment out, but Trey continued on anyway.

“I want you to breathe , Cater.”

So Cater did. Cater swallowed down one of his sobs and forced a breath into his lungs. It must have been audible because Trey responded with, “Good. Keep breathing. Just focus on breathing right now.”

Cater was unsure how many breaths he had taken before he could formulate full sentences again. He wasn’t sure how many minutes, or if he had taken long enough, hours had passed. 

He was even more unsure how Trey was able to be so patient and wait for him. 

Cater opened the stall door sloooowly . He dreaded having to show his mascara-stained and blotchy face to Trey, but at that point, there was very little he could do to convince Trey he was okay.

“Shall we go back to your dorm?” Trey asked. Cater was genuinely surprised. After everything that happened, he had expected Trey to force him to talk about it or inquire about his feelings (which were pretty obvious at that point). Instead, Trey offered no judgment or nosiness, simply a gentle question.

Even more surprisingly, Cater didn’t feel compelled to give a verbal answer, opting to nod his head instead.

---

Cater glued his eyes to his feet as he sped walked.

Cater was aware that people were probably staring. The rumor had probably already spread throughout the entire school by that point and it was entirely possible someone had heard him in the bathroom earlier. 

He walked even faster.

---

Cater collapsed face-down onto his bed once he got back to his dorm, letting Trey worry about closing the door and flicking on the lights.

"I made you quiche," Trey's voice said from the other side of the room. 

Cater only hummed thanks into his mattress, letting his body sink further into it.

The bed dipped next to him with a slight creak.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," Trey's voice said above him. "I just wanted to say that what Professor Rodentis did wasn’t your fault. He was…out of line. I see nothing wrong with what you chose to wear.”

“Thanks,” Cater whispered into his comforter. Trey must have heard him because he said ‘no problem’ and placed something down on his nightstand with a clink.

That’s the quiche.

Cater picked himself up off the mattress, resting on his elbows.

The quiche smelled absolutely delectable , Trey was the best cook after all. He stretched out his hand to grab one, letting the warmth tingle his fingers. 

He took a bite and melted.

“Do…you want to be left alone?” Trey asked gently.

Before he could even think, Cater found himself shaking his head.

“Okay,” Trey responded. “I’ll be here.”

Cater took another bite. 

God, I am so thankful for you right now, Trey. 

“I brought my tablet, do you wanna watch something?” 

Cater turned over on his side and scooted closer to his bedroom wall, allowing Trey to put his legs up on the bed.

“What do you want to watch? I’ve been binging Great British Bake Off for the past 3 weeks,” Trey laughed. 

“That’s fine.” Cater hummed. 

Trey selected the show and it started to play. As the episode continued, Cater moved his head to lay on Trey’s lap. Trey carded his hands through Cater’s hair, allowing the smooth strands to slide between his fingers. 

Cater’s eyes felt like Scalding Sands and the feeling became so uncomfortable that he eventually had to close them. Slowly, the sound of British hosts and food names faded as his breathing evened out and he drifted to sleep.

Chapter Text

Cater’s academic issues centered around 2 facts he had accepted about himself: he couldn’t focus on things that didn’t interest him nor could he concentrate very well in general.

If Night Raven had a pop culture class, he would pass with flying colors. However, celebrity drama wasn’t part of the curriculum. Flying, potion making, history, mathematics; all things that ranged from mildly to fatally boring to him, but were a large part of the curriculum.

Economics wasn’t a class until - at orientation - Headmaster Crowley announced his last-minute decision to add the class to the curriculum for all grade levels. 

Cater’s father was a banker, so he hoped he’d retain bits and pieces of the information his father often rattled off at the dinner table. 

In the first week of school, he overheard a tour group’s conversation about the new addition to Night Raven’s curricula. He quickly realized it was Trey who was the tour guide. Ace and Deuce, two first-years Cater had briefly met before, shared their opinions. Bluntly.

Cater, being the nosey person he was, was suddenly intrigued. 

“It won’t be boring ,” Deuce complained. A pause. Cater could practically hear the incredulous stare that followed Deuce’s statement. “Okay, it’ll be slightly boring. It’s just math.”

“Slightly? I just hope it’ll end up being a breeze. An easy A,” Ace said, the tour group coming straight for Cater. He whirled around, pretending to be caught in the beauty of the rose garden.

“Considering the fact students run shady businesses on campus,” Trey sighed. “I’m not complaining. You’re lucky you can get it done your first year. For third-years like Cater and I, we had to do some serious schedule editing.” Trey said. 

Trey was completely right. After announcing the new requirement, Cater had to completely revamp his schedule. He initially had a good mix of classes with different professors, but economics could only fit into so many spaces in the day. He was forced to swap a few of his more interesting electives for emptier classes. Post-scheduling fiasco, he would take 3 courses with Professor Trein, 1 with Crewel, 1 with Vargas, and, lastly, economics with the new professor. 

In short: one entire extra class was added to his schedule. That meant one extra class of work, homework, and another final exam.

“Hey, Trey! Ace and Deuce, too.” Cater picked that exact moment to whip around. 

“Cater,” Trey greeted with a smile. “Tell them economics won’t be that bad.”

Cater held his own opinions about the whole thing. He agreed with Ace and Deuce that it would be boring. However, he knew Trey was concerned with setting an example for the underclassmen. He played it off with a joke.

“Trust me, you’ll have to take worse classes in the future,” Cater laughed.

“ Exactly, ” Trey agreed, smiling gently at Ace and Deuce. “No matter how boring it gets, you’ll be fine.”

A few weeks into the semester, Cater found it hard to share Trey’s sentiment.

He quickly discovered fact #3 about himself: Cater was incapable of learning material that bored him.

Money was, admittedly, not his strong suit. He wasn’t failing , but he was close. He was sitting on the threshold between a D and an F - one bad test grade and he’d be failing.

The issue was that the class was so insufferably boring . He’d even caught Malleus nodding off a few times. The instructor, Professor Rodentis, spoke slowly and monotonously. 

Rodentis was a tall, wiry man who wore his graying hair slicked back. He had a fancy high hat he removed upon entering the classroom. His ears were a soft brown color, but his skin was a sickly pale color. He didn’t walk - he stalked . While moving from one side of the room to the other, he panned his gaze across the entire classroom. Slowly. 

His heavy, black robes ruffled every time he motioned or took a step. First-year students speculated he hid a pit of snakes under his robe or didn’t have a body at all. Both were no more than rumor, but if you had never observed him more closely, you would be tempted to believe it. On occasion, you could see the red velvet fabric on the inside of his robes and the black vest he wore under it. 

Budgeting seemed easy enough - “All you have to do is, like, not spend,” he remembers writing as the definition in his notebook. Other topics like supply, demand, and stock were just words to him.

Often, one moment his mind would wander and the next, he’d realize 10 entire minutes had passed. It happened to him in most of his classes, but economics was the worst. 

In previous years, he asked for Trey’s notes to make up for the lost time. Cater and Trey had never shared the same homeroom, but they took a lot of the same classes. Trey’s notes were simple and only outlined important terms, but they were better than Cater’s attempts to summarize a class's worth of information he didn’t focus on.

In his first year, Trey lent Cater his entire notebook with his notes for History of Magic. He managed to get a C overall in the class. He thanked Trey profusely . Trey had no idea he’d saved Cater from an earful at home and a summer with his father at the bank.

Their second year was when Trey got more serious about studying. Trey set times for himself to study and made himself a calendar. 

“Wow, Trey,” Cater remembers teasing. “You’re like, another version of Azul with all this studying.”

“Honestly, this is the bare minimum,” Trey told him. “Studying is the only way I’ll get out of chemistry alive. The calendar helps me keep track of my assignments. You should try it.”

Cater took Trey’s advice and, surprisingly, it helped him stay on top of things. Remembering to write everything into his calendar was key - if he forgot even one item, it would be forgotten forever. 

About a month into the semester, Professor Rodentis must have realized everyone would anxiously watch the clock for the last 30 minutes of class. 

He cast a hex and stopped the clock, permanently, at the same hour. 11 AM.

“Focus, students. Failure is a condition of apathy,” Rodentis’ glare swept across the room as if he were personally assessing everyone in the class.

His eyes landed on Cater and he glared .

Cater quickly scribbled nonsense into his notebook, hoping to divert the attention away from himself.

The lectures themselves were unlike any other lectures at Night Raven. In between fact and figure, Rodentis would insert his…personal opinions.

In one particular lecture about salary and future outcome, Rodentis said: “Obviously, there are many people who simply don’t want to contribute to society,” in response to the unemployment rate. That comment later turned into a rant about laziness and how society is failing its youth.

Other lectures dragged on with minimal personal comments. 

On one particularly slow day, Cater was bored out of his mind. The topic was the tax rates of different places. Cater couldn’t care less; he discreetly removed his phone from his bag and scrolled through his notifications.

1 msg from Lilia

Lilia: Pop club meeting after school?

Before he could reply, Rodentis barked: “Mr. Diamond!” 

Cater jumped. Everyone in the class was looking at him. He blushed.

Crewel or Trein would have given him a simple “Your followers can wait,” but Rodentis chose to do something unprecedented. 

“I hope you found that text worth it. Everybody bring your devices to the front of the room. Now. ”

The room filled with groans as people marched to the front of the room to put their phones away.

Rodentis was a jerk , for many reasons. Or, at least by Cater’s standards.

In the study session that followed that specific class, he couldn't help but mention his annoyance. 

“Then, he took everyone’s phones. They all glared at me, too. Do you know how scary that is? Leona glaring at you?” 

The library, per usual, was generally empty. Only a few students populated it in the mid-afternoon/evening hours. Trey liked it that way. Fewer people meant fewer distractions. 

This was not true for Cater. For whatever reason, the library made it nearly impossible for Cater to focus. No matter the amount of people, there were various distractions. The hundreds of books, the shuffling of papers, etc. 

Trey, however, found the library to be the spot he was the most productive in. So, of course, he’d downplayed the severity of his issue to Trey: “It’s just, like, it takes time for me to get focused, but I can.” 

An unspoken compromise was made in their second year. Trey would study in the library before dinner and Cater could choose to join or not. If Cater needed help with material or a study buddy, he’d have to settle for the library. However, if Cater initiated the study session, he could pick the time and place. Since Cater seldom initiated studying of his own volition, they worked together in the library.

“You shouldn’t be on your phone during class,” Trey whispered, not looking up from his textbook. Then, in an awful impression of Crowley’s voice, he said: “It’s unbecoming of a student at a prestigious institution like Night Raven.”

“I wasn't even on it, I was just scrolling through my notifs. Those are important,” Cater fake whined. “It’s difficult for me not to want to do anything but economics in that class.”

Trey didn't share his opinion on Rodentis, but Cater knew he dreaded the class just as much as the next person.

“Sounds like you need to start sucking up to Rodentis soon,” Trey said. He still hadn’t torn his eyes away from his textbook. 

It baffled him how anyone could multitask like that. Whenever Cater read, he needed to bring his full attention to it. 

“Taking away everyone’s phones though? That is so uncool. Even you have to agree with that.” Cater protested.

Cater’s words evoked no reaction out of Trey. Trey was ignoring him. 

Cater scoffed, feigning offense, and (reluctantly) opened his textbook. After reading and rereading the same paragraphs repeatedly, he figured it would be best to call it a day.

Weeks of torturous classes passed before fall break. It seemed like an eternity had passed before Cater was able to return home.

His sisters were, well, his sisters, but the break was nice. Sleep uninterrupted by classes and meals that weren’t followed by study sessions - home was a luxury.

The first night he was home, he was reminded of how awkward family dinners were. Without his sisters there, dinner felt like it was Cater vs. his parents. His sisters never made any attempts to defend him whenever his Dad interrogated him, but he felt less alone in their presence.

Considering he hadn’t seen (or really talked to) his parents, he expected to be grilled by them. 

Cater wondered if his dinner table needed a sign that read “eggshells, tread carefully” above it. 

It only took 10 minutes for the topic of school to come up.

“So, your classes?” his father pushed the potatoes on his plate from one side to the other. He hadn’t taken a single bite, Cater noted. “How are they?”

Cater’s father had a knack for asking questions that, in reality, were pointed jabs. His father was a frequent critic of his academic profile and understandably so. His father was a successful banker and was top of almost all of his classes. As his father’s only son, he was expected to follow in his footsteps. 

“They’re going well.” Cater’s answer wasn’t a lie , but it wasn’t the full truth. He wasn’t going to talk about Rodentis or the fact he was a below-average student (save for astrology, the only class he had a solid B in). 

“That’s good,” his mother smiled. She was always proud of Cater’s progress. As long as he wasn’t failing, she would always praise him for his grades.

“Hm,” his father hummed. “Last year, you got mostly D’s and C’s. You barely passed 2 of your classes. Is that where we’re still at?”

He took a deep breath.

Eggshells , he reminded himself. Don’t break the eggshells.

“Yeah, I’ve managed to bring most of my D’s up to low C’s. I have a B in astrology,” Cater explained, smiling. “I’m doing better than last year.”

That wasn’t a lie - he was sitting on solid C’s in most of his classes. The only D’s he had were in economics and alchemic spellcasting (which he didn’t even quite understand the name of). Both classes were taught by particularly harsh graders: Rodentis and Trein. His father wouldn’t accept that as an excuse, though. 

He bit his tongue. 

“Most?” His father cocked up an eyebrow. “Hm,” his father hummed, not inquiring about his grades further. A small period of silence passed and Cater sat tense.

His father broke the silence. “Well, you need to be thinking about next year’s internships. We open 3 internships annually at the bank,” his father scraped his potatoes across his plate again. “I could get you into one of those spots with a singular phone call.”

Cater, as he had explained to his father multiple times, did not want to be a banker. The work wasn’t interesting to him and he had already proven through Rodentis’s class that he wasn’t an avid economist.

The conversation was falling into the same pattern it always did. Cater pretended to sip on his water, knowing it was his turn to respond.

It was like clockwork. Grades, internship, and refusal.

“I looked at those internships,” Cater avoided eye contact as he spoke. “I want to explore other options, though.” 

Grades, internship, refusal, and then-

His father placed his fork down angrily with a loud CLINK! He clenched his jaw. He took a deep breath, steadying himself.

Exasperation.

“You’re 18,” his father spoke bluntly. 

Cater bit the inside of his cheek. 

“There isn’t much time before your 4th year. There isn’t time for you to explore ‘other options’. You’ll be applying for internships in your second semester. Banking isn’t difficult if you’ve got my brain-” 

Grades, internship, refusal, exasperation, distraction . 

“Honey,” Cater’s mother stood from the table and began clearing it. Cater recognized it as a shoddy attempt to end the conversation. “Are you done with that?”

“Yes, thank you-” his father handed his plate off to his mother. “-you do have my brain. You just don’t apply yourself. I tell you this every time you come home.”

Yes, Cater thought. Every. Single. Time.  

His father’s philosophy was simple: If Cater worked harder, he would perform better. He operated off of the assumption that school was unimportant to Cater and, therefore, he didn’t do well. 

His father was wrong. Cater was no valedictorian, but he tried his best in all of his classes. He couldn’t quite articulate why school didn’t come easy to him. He credited his scores to “focus issues” but that wasn’t an accurate description. Focusing was only part of the issue, but how could he explain that to his father?

“Darling, it’s getting late. It’s Cater’s first night home,” his mother took up his plate. He hadn’t touched it at all. “We should ask him about his friends! Honey, how are your friends? How’s Trey?”

Cater shared a look with his mother that said, “I know you’re trying to help. Thank you.”

His dad ignored his mother. 

“When you’re older and you get married, you’ll understand,” Cater’s father wiped his mouth with a napkin. “We’ve sacrificed a lot, moving around so much. We’re not near any of our extended family here. Your mother and I work every single day to support your life. Your education . Is a little more effort in school too much to ask?”

“Darling,” his mother barked. Arguments between his parents never escalated to full-on yelling , but volume was a means of control. The loudest one was the one who was heard . Very rarely listened to, but heard nonetheless. “Your suit needs ironing for your big business meeting tomorrow. Why don’t you take care of that upstairs?”

His father grumbled something, rose from his seat at the dinner table, patted him on the back, and disappeared upstairs.

Grades, internship, refusal, exasperation, distraction, and, finally, resolution.

“Start applying for those internships, Cay,” his mother said before kissing him on the forehead. “I’m proud of you for your B. Goodnight.”

After his mom had left, he was left with a mysterious metallic taste in his mouth and pain in his cheek. 

He took his shower immediately after dinner. The warm water running over him relaxed his muscles. While brushing his teeth, he avoided where he had bit his cheek. 

After turning off his bedroom light, he heard low voices from across the hall.

His parents’ room.

He had a knack for “overhearing” (eavesdropping) their arguments.  

Like clockwork: grades, internship, refusal, exasperation, distraction, resolution, and argument .

The walls of the Diamond household were thin. 

“With Cater’s grades, I’m starting to worry about his future,” his father’s voice. He sounded angrier than he had at dinner. “I know you don’t care, but I do-”

“Who said I didn’t care? I do care,” his mother’s voice raised in volume. “I don’t want him to fail. I think he’s trying his best! Why can’t you see that?”

His mother was always the more supportive one. Where his father pushed him, she met him where he was. She never pushed him to be a banker or pressed him about his grades. She understood he had issues focusing and that their constant moving created academic setbacks. 

“ Quiet ,” his father warned. “It’s 9 PM.”

Hypocrite , Cater thought. You were slamming silverware around an hour ago.

“You’re right it’s late. I should quiet down,” his mother was whispering now. “It’s just- when you say he’s not using his brain, it sounds like you’re calling him stupid -”

“Well, he’s not doing much to show his professors he isn’t .”

Cater bit his cheek harder. His mother gasped. 

“I don’t think he’s stupid but, compared to other students, he’s is on the lower end of the scale-”

Cater stopped listening at that point. He plugged in his earbuds and played music, hoping to drift off quickly.

His phone vibrated next to him.

1 msg from Trey

Trey: It’s late but I hope you are enjoying your break.

Trey: The bakery is super busy. We have pumpkin spice cookies! I wish you could swing by.

Cater immediately felt lighter. He smiled. 

Cater: i am so happy to be relaxing!!! i wish i could try one of those cookies 

Cater: i am about to go to bed but ttyl!

Cater was able to drift off a little more peacefully.

The morning of the last day of break, his sisters came home to see him. It was a complete surprise; he had woken up, went to prepare himself breakfast, and run into them downstairs.

“CayCay!” “Brother!” They both cheered at the same time. They practically sprinted to him, wrapping him in a firm embrace.

Across the room, he spotted a black and green skirt lying across a chair. It looked like a skirt you would wear with a school uniform: pleated and plaid. 

It was cute . His sisters had given him an eye for cute things.

“I’m returning it,” his sister explained. She must have seen him eyeing it. “It’s too big. Mom bought it for me and got the sizing wrong.” 

Cater stole clothes from his sisters all the time. Slacks, t-shirts - anything that fit his style and his body was fair game. So, it wouldn’t be unusual to take another item. Sure, guys didn’t traditionally wear skirts, but it would be fine just to try on-

“I can see you thinking,” his eldest sister’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “ No , I cannot turn it into shorts for your summer uniform. Sorry, CayCay I just don’t feel like sewing-”

“Let me try it on,” Cater held his hand out. “If it’s too big for you it might fit me.”

In response, his sisters grinned. 

His other sister spoke up, “Just don’t ruin it. Make sure that if it doesn’t fit you bring it right back here and-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Cater tuned out her orders as he walked upstairs.

It did fit. It fell right below his knees. The fabric was soft, almost fleecelike in feeling. The green matched him well.

3 knocks on his door. His sisters, of course.

“Come in,” Cater invited.

“This is even better than dress-up as kids,” his eldest sister giggled. “Is this, like, upcycling or something? I should make a post!”

“ You never even wore it!” his other sister argued. 

“So?” his elder sister’s tone shifted entirely. “Instead of throwing it away, I graciously granted it to my younger brother-”

“You weren’t gonna throw it away. You were going to return it!”

“So? I could have returned it. It’s called a possibility .”

Cater rolled his eyes. Returning home meant constant sibling squabbles. 

“ Anywho , the skirt looks great on you,” his eldest sister complimented. Cater smiled.

“I’ve never worn a skirt before,” Cater said more to himself than either of his sisters. “Do you think people at school will think-”

“Cater, you were rocking princess dresses for years before Mom told us it was cruel to keep forcing you to be our living mannequin,” his other sister said. “Besides, you’ve worn worse than a skirt.”

Cater raised an eyebrow at that, but didn’t respond. He felt insulted but an argument with his sister was the last thing he wanted.

“You should totes take it back to school with you!”

“Who says ‘totes’ anymore?” his older sister scoffed. 

He gradually led them out of his room as they assessed the modernity of each other’s slang.

That night, he hoped dinner would go along smoothly (or as smoothly as it could with his father).

The first positive sign was there was no talk of grades or school at all. His father began with a story about his work.

“Today, 2 men came in for a loan.”

“And?” his mother placed a fresh plate of fish in the middle of the table. Once she took her seat at the table, his father continued.

“Well, they were in a relationship,” Cater’s father explained. “I don’t think it’s wrong or anything, but in this family-”

Cater tensed. He knew where this conversation was going.

“Oh, quit that,” his mother protested. “Eat your food.”

Cater and his sisters directed their gazes to the floor.

“No, no. I’m just saying- I’m content with the way it is now. Both of our daughters are engaged to their future husbands,” his father took a bite of fish. “Cater dated that girl in year 7. I prefer that we’ve turned out this way.” 

Cater’s stomach turned. He cut himself a piece of fish anyway, not wanting to draw more attention to himself by not eating anything.

“Honey,” his mother pressed her lips together. “This is not a dinner topic.” 

His father set his fork down, exasperated that he was being shut down. “I just don’t understand it.” 

“ Still not a dinner topic,” his mother replied more forcefully. “Why don’t we share our favorite parts of our days, hm? I’ll go first.”

His father was a very direct man. He always said exactly what he thought. His mother was almost the complete opposite, always navigating topics with the main goal of avoiding them.

Sexuality was a relatively untouched topic. His father had made comments, but his mother had always shut them down. 

Cater was grateful for his mom’s ability to pacify his father’s comments. For whatever reason, the topic of sexuality made Cater more uncomfortable than any conversation about his grades ever could.

That night, as always, his parents argued at bedtime. Out of sight, but not out of earshot.

Cater lay awake in bed listening, once again.

“You can’t talk about stuff like that at dinner,” his mother whisper-yelled. “Dinner is family time. Your comments -”

“They’re old enough to hear it,” his father spoke full volume. “It’s how the world is now.”

“Look, I don’t completely understand it either, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be accepting -”

“I want grandchildren. I want my daughters to marry men who will take care of them. I want my son to marry a kind woman, grow up, and be the man of the house,” his father was whispering now. “That’s how I- we imagined our lives going. You can’t deny that you’d be disappointed if...”

His father trailed off, but the implication was obvious.

“Well, no,” his mother said, almost inaudibly. “I can’t.”

Cater bit the inside of his cheek. Disappointing his father was inevitable, disappointing his mother was terrifying .

For the first time, Cater was being counted on by both of his parents to grow up, find a wife, have children, and be successful. It was expected of him. Before, he could assume, but he’d never had the expectations laid out so clearly for him.

After that, either the conversation concluded or the rest of it was too quiet for him to hear.

He knew he liked women, he crushed on tons of girls. He hadn’t given much thought to anything else. On Magicam, he followed tons of girls. They were attractive. The idea of dating a girl, well, he already had. He dated a girl named Mella in his 7th year - his first girlfriend. They dated until he left for his first year at Night Raven. 

It wasn’t like he had never questioned his sexuality before. Sometimes, he entertained the idea of dating a guy. However, the idea of coming out to his parents scared him. That alone solidified it for him - he wasn’t into guys.

Cater wasn’t into guys. That was a fact. He wasn’t homophobic, either. He supported all sexualities and wouldn’t dare to judge anyone based on their preferences. When he raised his children, he would raise them with no expectations of marriage or gender roles. 

Cater was too tired to revisit his moot sexuality crisis. He erased all images of bakeries and sweets. He refused to acknowledge who came to mind when he thought of his future.

His father’s ideas were old-fashioned, but he wasn’t living up to his father’s expectations in general. If there was any area he had the opportunity to not disappoint him further, he wanted to pursue it. 

His sister’s skirt stayed untouched in the depths of his closet. At home. 

It was getting too cold to wear it, anyway.

Chapter Text

Fall break ended in what felt like a blink and Cater was back at Night Raven. Freezing temps forced every student and staff member into heavy coats, hats, and scarves. 

Winter’s arrival brought Cater’s productivity to a slow crawl. Coming off a break was always difficult, but the mounting work only made it more difficult to get work done. 

Finals were coming up in two weeks and almost every student was starting to get antsy. The library was filling up more with each day that passed.

The overachievers were sent into a frenzy first. Certain students began spending every bit of their free time in the library. Students hovered over their work with expressions that ranged from complete hysteria to mild stress.

Trey insisted on intensifying his study routine ever so slightly. It was “to set an example,” according to Trey, but Cater knew it went beyond that. Trey had an internship in mind and was working to ensure he had a shot at getting it. 

Cater, unfortunately, was in a completely different boat.

“Magicam break,” Cater announced, taking out his phone. “5 minutes.”

“Suit yourself,” Trey didn’t take his eyes off of his homework. “This is your third one in the last hour.”

“Maybe it's a sign we should end this study sesh. Officially.”

Trey glared at Cater. He flipped to the next page of his notebook with a look that said, “Nope.”

“C'mon, I know you're, like, begging to go do something else. On the inside.”

Trey continued to ignore Cater. Cater sighed and opened his notebook. He pretended to skim over his notes. 

Trey seemed to be doing no better at focusing. His eyebrows were knitted together and he rhythmically tapped his pen against his book.

“You’ve read that same paragraph like 8 times,” Cater observed. 

“I’m almost done,” Trey deadpanned. “10 more minutes.”

Cater’s stomach growled, loudly , which earned some glances from others. 

“We’re hungry and tired and done with this 3-hour snoozefest. You heard my stomach. Let’s go ,” Cater coaxed.

Trey pretended not to hear him.

Cater returned to his textbook and stared at the words, not absorbing any of the information.

After 10 more minutes of trying (pretending) to study, Trey’s stomach growled.

“ See, ” Cater teased. “It's dinner time anyway. C’mon.” 

Trey sighed. Cater smiled, feeling triumphant.

A day later, an account requested to follow him on Magicam.

HeartsStudyTips. 

The Magicam study method had been an overwhelming success the first time Cater tried it. 

Trey must have put Riddle up to it. He’d probably noticed Cater’s lack of productivity in the library. He knew Cater wouldn’t have the courage to ask Riddle for help, so he’d gone ahead and done it himself.

He’d have to thank Trey later. He was always saving Cater when it came to academics.

Cater didn’t hesitate to accept the follow request. He received a message not long after.

HeartsStudyTips: Cater, this should have everything you need for your classes.  

CayCay: thx so much i needed this

CayCay: like srsly i was going to cram everything in 1 day

HeartsStudyTips: Also, Trey put me up to this. Thank him too.

Cater smiled. He sent a quick message to thank Trey.

Cater: you’re a lifesaver Trey

Cater: thank you <3

Trey: You’re welcome.

Trey: Now, study up.

Trey: We only have 2 more weeks.

Trey: Correction: a week and a half.

Cater: don’t remind me.

Cater: no actually yes do remind me thanks Trey <3

Cater opened up the first post and already found that topics were clicking better than before.

A week before final exams, Crowley announced tragic news at the end-of-semester assembly.

Out of the over 800 students, around 50% looked completely and utterly zapped . 

“Finals will do that to ya,” he heard a voice snicker near him. When he turned around, he realized the voice was Ace, who was laughing at Deuce nodding off next to him. 

The assembly was long and boring, but Cater fought the urge to nod off. He had to set an example for the underclassmen (and Riddle would never let him). 

The tragic news came halfway through the assembly when Professor Rodentis stepped up to speak. 

“I have thoroughly enjoyed being your professor for the past 3 months,” Rodentis droned. “I have dutifully accepted my position as Night Raven’s newest staff member.”

Deep down, Cater was hoping it would be a resignation speech.

Oh, how wrong he was.

“A second section will be added to the Personal Finance and Economic Advising course: microeconomics and macroeconomics. It will be taught by myself,” the once-silent room erupted into groans. Riddle stared down everyone in Heartslabyul. Cater bit his tongue. “ Quiet- everyone currently enrolled in the finance course will be automatically enrolled in the second section for next semester.”

He wasn’t sure if he could take another semester of the class or Rodentis. From the sound of it, he wasn’t the only one.

At the end of the assembly, he smiled big and applauded. Simultaneously, he shared a look with Trey that carried a mutual sentiment: “HELP ME.”

2 days later, in class, Cater gave his full attention to the material Rodentis was lecturing. He connected the lecture notes with his notes from studying. Finally , he felt like he was getting it.

“Well, Mr. Diamond is finally using that brain his parents are spending money cultivating,” Professor Rodentis casually mentioned mid-lecture. “A little late for that isn’t it, Mr. Diamond?”

Cater paused. He took a deep breath and tried to play off his embarrassment of being called out. 

Was Rodentis mocking him?

Cater smiled. “Yes, Professor Rodentis, but trust me. I’ve been studying.”

Rodentis smirked as if he didn’t buy a single word. “You can tell me all about it after class. Now, supply chains,” Rodentis continued.

What was that about? Cater wondered before returning to his notes. Seeing Rodentis after class would be unpleasant, but it was better than being sentenced to detention. Who knew what Rodentis wanted to discuss with him? 

The remainder of the lesson passed without incident. 

After class, Cater hesitantly approached Rodentis, who was aggressively erasing the chalkboard.

“Professor?” Cater said. Rodentis didn’t acknowledge his presence. Cater assumed he simply didn’t hear, so he called again: “Excuse me, Professor.”

“I heard you the first time Mr. Diamond,” Rodentis drawled. Cater clenched his jaw. “Your grade in my class compared to some of the others…I am not impressed.”

Compared to other students, he’s on the lower end of the scale.

Rodentis still hadn’t turned around. Cater’s breath was starting to pick up.

“I am so sorry about that,” Cater apologized. “Today, I thought I could try and catch up. I am working super hard on the exam material to bring my grade up.”

“As you should be.” It sounded less like an agreement and more like a threat. “Your grades are nothing to be toyed with. You are expected to have an internship next year.”

Well, you need to be thinking about next year’s internships. 

“I understand, Professor,” Cater curtly nodded. Rodentis sounded similar to his father. Luckily, he had experience navigating conversations with his father. “I’m exploring my options.”

Silence. 

Grades, internship, refusal, exasperation-

“I have a policy about how I deal with struggling students.” Professor Rodentis stalked over to his desk and sat down. His voice was level, but his tone concealed a fury. He’d done this dance with his father many times before. “School policy says I should offer one-on-one sessions or pair you up with a peer tutor.”

“There are only a few days before finals,” Cater was confused. Why would Professor Rodentis save this speech for the end of the semester? Was he offering help ? “Thank you for the offer-”

“ School policy, Mr. Diamond. My policy says I don’t have to follow through with any of that. So this is a warning ,” Professor Rodentis’s gaze was piercing. “If you do not get a B or higher on your exam, I will fail you. In that case, expect a meeting between yourself, your parents, Headmaster Crowley, and me.  Next semester, I expect you to do better from the start .”

The words “Headmaster Crowley” sent a shiver down his spine. And his dad, too? Being grilled by both at the same time? 

Well, Cater had no idea what he’d do. 

“Yes, Professor,” Cater said, in disbelief. A B or higher? His overall class grade was barely even a D. How was he going to get a B on the final? He was already failing and he’d hoped his final would maybe bring his grade up to a C. His father wouldn’t be happy, but he’d be happier with that than he would be with an F.

“You should expect multiple-choice questions and a few free responses on your final. I expect to see the hard work you promised to pay off on your final,” Rodentis glared at him one last time. “You are dismissed.”

Cater murmured a hurried, “Thank you, Professor” before rushing out of the room.

He had just started to understand the material. He didn’t have enough time to study for all 6 of his classes. Priorities were priorities: as much as he wanted to keep his B in astrology, he wanted to save himself from the embarrassment of auto-failing economic more.

He needed to cram. 

He hopped on his skateboard and rode back to his dorm.

Cater: hey hey treytrey! i went back to my dorm. i’m feeling suuuuper tired. seeya tmrw!!!

Two days before finals, Cater found himself in the library with Trey, who attempted to explain an alchemy concept he didn’t (and knew he’d never) understand.

Alchemy was Trey’s best subject, probably because he’d been cooking longer than he could walk. The concepts came so easily to him that he was able to skate by with minimal studying.

Cater was not as lucky. Alchemic spellcasting was one of the classes he’d have to shirk in his pursuit to ensure a B on his economics exam. 

He didn’t want to leave Trey completely in the dust; Cater was willing to try and see if Trey’s explanations would stick. Maybe, just maybe , he’d have an ‘aha!’ moment and do well enough on his exam to keep his C.

However, the late nights of attempting to study caught up to him quickly. He could barely keep his eyes open, let alone focus.

Cater only pretended to focus on Trey’s words. The meeting he had with Professor Rodentis still had him on edge. 

He was afraid, mostly. He had no idea how he would earn a B on the final.

Other students had set up intricate study schedules and followed them strictly. That sounded like a nightmare to him. Even Trey, who wasn’t a super student, had planned time in the library to study for the exams. Cater could barely stay attentive long enough to review 3 pages of notes.

“ This ,” Trey explained. “Is the mixing direction. You denote it with a singular letter.”

“Mhm,” Cater hummed in agreement. “Got it.”

He was getting none of this. Cater discreetly let out a yawn. He was staring blankly at the words on Trey’s paper.

“You’re not paying any attention,” Trey stated. “That’s fine.”

He hadn’t even realized he’d zoned out. 

Trey slammed his textbook shut. “You know, Cater, maybe it’s best for us to study apart,” Trey said, frustration seeping into his voice. “Right now, it’s just a waste for both of us.”

A waste . That’s what Night Raven was for Cater anyway. A huge waste. His parents were paying for him to barely pass his classes. 

“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’ll go to study in my room or something.” Cater rushed to collect his books in his arms and left the library. 

Trey was frustrated with him (which was embarrassing because Trey was, like, one of the most patient people ever). It wasn’t Trey’s fault. Finals were a big deal and every student at Night Raven, including Trey, was most likely stressed out.

You do have my brain, his father’s words rang in his head. You just don’t apply yourself.

Chapter Text

The night before his first 2 exams, he reviewed his exam schedule in his head.

Day 1: Astrology & Flying

Those were easy enough. Astrology was his best subject, after all. There was a lot of wiggle room for him; he could study minimally and still pass. Flying was no different, it was a throwaway class and Coach Vargas would give him a passing grade as long as he didn’t fall off his broom.

Day 2: Economics & Advanced Potionology

Economics - well, he’d devoted his past 3 nights to studying for that exam. If he didn’t pass, it would set off a chain reaction that would end with Cater in trouble and feeling completely humiliated. Advanced Potionology…he didn’t understand much, but he had maintained a C the entire semester. It couldn’t be that bad. 

Day 3 (the last day): Alchemic Spellcasting & Conjuration

Alchemy was in worse condition than economics, somehow. He understood the spells and their purposes, but the theory ? No thanks. The theory was almost entirely memorization. He started memorizing some of the spells and usages a week ago, but it was put on hold for economics. 

Ok, new game plan. He would devote the entire second day of exams to study for alchemy.

He knew it wasn’t a good option, but he felt he had no other choice. Economics needed to take priority. The last thing he wanted was a parent-teacher-headmaster meeting. 

HeartsStudyTips broke down the material well. He went topic by topic, spending an hour on each one. 

By the third hour, his brain was fried. By midnight, he could barely keep his eyes open. 

He went to bed.

Falling asleep for him was never as easy as closing his eyes and wishing for it to come. 

He had to lie completely still, turn off his thoughts, and keep his eyes closed. Lying completely still and closing his eyes was easy enough. Turning off his thoughts, however…

He was constantly thinking. He couldn’t stop - his father’s words echoed in his head. There was a lot to think about.

He was feeling normal levels of anxiety about the exams he’d be taking the next day. Those fears were compounded by the pressure of needing to do well on his economics exam. That anxiety was made worse by the pressure of needing to pass his classes.

At 1:30 AM, he still hadn’t been able to fall asleep.

The next morning, it was as if he hadn’t slept at all. 

9 AM.

Shit. His first exam was at 9:30 .

At 9:15, he was gliding on his skateboard through Night Raven’s courtyard. 

I can do this, Cater told himself. I studied…kinda.

When he arrived at Trein’s classroom, he started feeling the weight of his decision. Internally, he scolded himself. Why hadn’t he even tried to review some of his alchemy notes? Why didn’t he go to bed earlier?

He texted Trey.

Cater: good luck on your alchemy exam <3

Trey: Thanks, Cater. Good luck on your exams too.

Cater: r u already outside crewel’s classroom?

Trey: Yeah, I got a headstart to do some last minute studying.

Cater: ofc you did. nerd.

Cater: seeya at lunch

Cater took his seat, still trying to psych himself up. 

Astrology was his best subject. He had nothing to worry about. He was catastrophizing.

Trein’s “you may begin” sealed his fate. He opened his exam booklet.

His eyes were uncomfortably dry. He rubbed his hands down his face. He blinked a few times.

Focus .

For the first 10 minutes of the exam, Cater stared at his paper, trying to make sense of the sentences. He reread the first sentence at least 6 times, deriving no meaning from it. He moved on to the next. That question didn’t make much sense either. 

Cater’s eyelids threatened to close. He normally had issues focusing, but this was as if his brain had been completely scrambled and fried.

Guessing would have to be his best friend. He returned to the first two questions and circled two completely random answers.

He looked at the clock. He only had 30 minutes left. He needed to pick up the pace. He flipped through his booklet to see what types of questions were ahead. He answered a few of them; there were a handful of answers he memorized through repetition, but those were few and far between. 

He stumbled through the rest of the exam. Idia placed his pencil down.

He’s already done? Cater was shocked. He sped through the final 20 questions.

The exam managed to complete itself in the nick of time. 

“Pens down,” Trein’s voice boomed. “Congratulations to those who passed. You should see your scores appearing on your paper right now.”

His score materialized itself through an automatic spell: a 67. 

Cater cringed. Not the best , but Cater was relieved he didn’t completely fail due to his fatigue. 

Not the best was an understatement; his father would definitely comment on it once his progress report was out.

As the other students filed out of the room, Trein beckoned for Cater to come to the front. He gulped.

“Mr. Diamond,” Professor Trein sounded disappointed. “I expected slightly better from you considering your overall grade.”

Well, he’s not doing much to show his Professors he isn’t.

The exam would drop his grade quite significantly. He would no longer have the B he’d hoped for. He’d essentially told them at dinner he’d get a B overall in astrology.

Well, he could kiss that all goodbye.

Trein’s disappointed look reminded him of his father’s. Cater shrank back a little.

“I apologize,” Cater mumbled. He needed to get a hold of himself. He hadn’t failed the class . He was still doing better in astrology than in his other classes. Why did he feel so terrible? 

“Perhaps you would benefit from a reduction of your screen time,” Trein suggested.

He would benefit from that, but it wasn’t the main reason he’d done poorly on his exam. However, Professor Trein didn’t seem like the type to listen to student complaints about other professors and low grades. He could try to explain Rodentis’s ultimatum or his all-nighters, but he doubted he’d understand. 

So, he forced the mask he always wore back on his face. “I agree, I let Magicam get the best of me this exam period.”

Trein frowned. “Well, figure out how you can fare better on your other exams. It is a real tragedy your only pitfall is your inability to detach yourself from your smartphone.”

His next exam was flying.

He didn’t fall off his broom, he managed to get a 70% on his exam, and he’d get a C overall for the class. 3 bonuses.

Upon landing, he realized he’d received a ton of messages from Trey.

Trey: I’m done with exams.

Trey: Alchemy wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. 

Trey: Wanna grab dinner? I’m taking a break from studying tonight.

Cater sighed. As much as he wanted to, he needed to study. He hadn’t reviewed all of the topics the previous night and he needed to finish.

So, he didn’t tell Trey about the ultimatum, or the day’s exams. Instead, he told a half-truth.

Cater: so so so sorry but i have to cram for this economics exam :(

Cater: tmrw as SOON as i take my alchemy exam i’ll be there

Trey: Okay, good luck!

He rushed back to his dorm on his skateboard. This was his last chance to save his ass from Rodentis and his father’s wrath. Crowley’s hypothetical role was more of a non-issue - all he’d do is facilitate the grilling from both sides. 

He started with his notes. He repeated the terms and definitions to himself until he felt he’d memorized them. He opened up HeartsStudyTips and read over each post a couple of times.

After around 3 hours, he attempted to crack open his alchemy notes, but his tiredness left him unable to focus. 

A break was in order, he decided. Was it the best time? No, but he knew his limits. More studying would be rendered ineffective by his inevitable zoning out.

He opened his messages on Magicam. 

1 msg from HeartsStudyTips

HeartsStudyTips: How did your exams go?

Riddle. He felt bad, in a way. He had been provided with a foolproof (Caterproof) way to study and essentially threw it away. Riddle had worked hard to create comprehensive guides and mnemonic devices for all of his classes. Cater invested it all into one. 

CayCay: they went amaze! thx riddle! <3

HeartsStudyTips: That’s great to hear! Best of luck on your next ones!

Cater felt bad for lying to Riddle, but how could he tell the truth? Riddle was adamant that there would be “no failures in Heartslabyul.” He hadn’t failed either of his exams so far, but he was in danger of failing an entire class.

So, was it necessary? Yes, but he still felt guilty for lying.

Staring at the DMs only made him feel worse, so he turned to his posts instead.

His “For You” page was populated almost entirely by Shaftlands Fashion Week. If he didn’t have exams, who knew how long he’d be glued to #ShaftlandsFashion - Trey and Riddle would have to physically extract him from his room to get him to do anything else.

He was wooed by all the amazing colors and designs. The way the models glided on the runway was breathtaking. 

His longtime favorite model, Notre, was a tall, dark-skinned woman with long, curly hair. 

She was drop-dead gorgeous . If elegance were a person, it would be her . She was an extremely successful mage who attended a top college. She had it all: beauty, grace, intelligence. 

The videos of her runways were mesmerizing. She had a natural rhythm to her steps. They were practiced, but not robotic. Even in heavy leather boots, her steps were silent. 

She moved as if she were weightless . It was hypnotizing.

A few more scrolls and he was viewing the male models. With the same grace and beauty as the women, they paraded down the runway in extravagant outfits.

Cater felt a smile creep across his face as a particularly striking male model strutted in a large, silk robe. 

He was beautiful . His cheeks flushed.

He went to the account. He had a massive following of over 40 million. The number made Cater do a double take.

His stage name: Sorcero. He was a naturally tanned man. His hair atop his head was thick and wavy. His hairstylists were extremely talented; his hair was always a major highlight of his outfits. 

Cater pressed the follow button. He kept scrolling. 

Greens, blues, reds - every color looked great on him.

He wondered what dating a model would be like. The press conferences, the debuts, the chaotic mornings before a shoot or show.

It took an insane amount of willpower to put down his phone and return to studying. 

The situation was dawning on him: tomorrow would either be his date of death or one of the best days of his life.

His increasing anxiety made it increasingly hard to focus. His palms were leaving sweat streaks across his phone screen (gross) and his chest was growing tighter. 

He forced himself to keep going, but his resilience was short-lived; he figured he’d exhausted studying for the day once his notes stopped making sense.

He lay in his bed not knowing if he should scream or crack open his textbook again.

The morning of his economics exam, Cater felt physically sick. 

The clock read 7:00 AM. 2 and a half hours before his economics exam.

Cater’s entire body felt heavy. He wasn’t sure if he was about to vomit or cry.

A wave of pain hit his head. He winced.

Had he contracted something in his sleep ? 

He had to take his economics exam. Rodentis wouldn’t believe his “sudden sickness”. Not the morning of an exam he was told he had to get a B on. 

He stirred but didn’t get up. His head throbbed.

It took him half an hour to get his feet on the ground. It took him another 30 minutes to stand on two feet.

By 8 AM, he was (slowly) getting dressed. His phone vibrated on his nightstand.

Trey: I am a bit nervous.

Cater: what exams do u have today?

Trey: Astrology and alchemy.

Trey: Astrology will be a breeze. I’m not sure about alchemy.

Trey: How’d you do on it? I know you’re good at astrology.

Trey: Riddle said you did really well.

Cater froze. He was slightly embarrassed he had received a low score in his best class. On top of that, Riddle already told Trey he did well on his exams. He felt bad lying to Riddle and Trey, but there was no going back on it. He didn’t need yet another person on him about his grades.

Cater: 95!

Trey: Really? That’s amazing!

Cater: ikr! your bestie caycay is a genius!

Trey: How was flying? I assume it’s sort of second nature for you now.

Compared to other students, he’s on the lower end of the scale.

Second nature. Flying was second nature. Other students could have easily earned an A on that exam. Even students younger than him. A C was embarrassing.

Cater: 90! I wasn’t trying too hard.

Cater was immediately hit with guilt. Trey was his friend , there was no reason to be dishonest about his grades. Trey constantly proved he’d never judge Cater for struggling academically and helped him on multiple occasions. 

On the contrary, Trey didn’t know about Cater’s father. He had no idea how hard Cater was trying and how little he was getting in return. He couldn’t fathom randomly dropping everything to Trey. How would he even start to explain? “Oh, by the way, I’m kinda stupid and managed to tank my astrology grade because I almost failed the exam. Why? I was studying for my economics exam because Rodentis threatened to fail me! I’ll fail because I was already kinda failing the class anyway. I’m nearly failing alchemy, too. I can’t focus on anything and struggle with most of my schoolwork. I have no idea what’s wrong with me! See you at dinner!” 

In short, if Cater told Trey the truth, Trey would think he was stupid. He didn’t need anyone else thinking that.

Cater: oh i gtg, time to get some last-minute studying in!

Cater: gl on ur exams!

Trey: You too!

By 9 AM, he was waiting outside Professor Rodentis's room and scrolled through HeartsStudyTips . He’d skipped breakfast - his stomach turned even at the thought of food. 

A few of his classmates trickled into the classroom. Some were already in the room quietly looking over their notes. 

He hadn’t noticed Professor Rodentis creeping up behind him and looking over his shoulder.

“Ah, even right before an exam you cannot separate yourself from your smartphone, Mr. Diamond,” Professor Rodentis remarked. Cater jumped with a sharp gasp. He quickly composed himself.

“Haha, Riddle made a study guide for me on Magicam. It helps a lot!” Cater’s laugh ended up being more awkward than tension-relieving like he’d hoped. Rodentis snorted.

“Mr. Rosehearts? Your underclassman? ” Professor Rodentis sputtered. “That is quite laughable, Mr. Diamond. But, perhaps, it will help you pull up your abysmal grade in my class.” 

Cater bit his cheek. He knew it was embarrassing and Rodentis rubbed it in. 

An uncomfortably long moment passed before Cater let out another nervous laugh and Rodentis strolled into the classroom. 

Cater looked around, hoping no one in the hallway had heard Rodentis’s comment. The hallway was lightly populated by students who paid him no attention. His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.

At 9:15 AM, he decided he had been lingering for long enough. His hands were sweaty again - he wiped them on his pants before entering the classroom.

He placed his phone in the front and took his seat. 

The rest of his class filed in, including a half-awake Leona who looked pissed .

“Take your seats, take your seats. We only have so long to take the exam,” Rodentis said to the incoming students. 

He looked at the clock: 9:20 AM. His palms were sweaty again. His morning headache returned as an angry throb behind his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut. 

He was starting to believe he had contracted a mysterious illness more and more.

“This exam should be fairly easy if you’ve studied well.” Rodentis looked directly at Cater. “For some of you, passing this class depends on your performance on this exam.”

Cater looked around the room to see if anyone else reacted to the Professor’s words. He could hear his heart throbbing in his ears. He removed his jacket, suddenly feeling extremely warm. 

“You may now open your booklets.”

Cater flipped over the front cover. 

Question 1: Discuss how two products you use affect each other’s supply and demand.

The question was easy enough. His headache made the edges of his vision fuzzy, making it hard to focus. He ignored it, took a deep breath, and wrote a short response about Magicam and smartphones.

Question 2: Explain substitute goods in complete sentences.

Another question he knew. He was a bit slower answering it - his thoughts felt as if they were coming in and out of focus. He explained his answer in around 5 - 6 sentences.

Wait, are these all essay questions? Cater found himself flipping through the pages of the exam.

Yes. Every single question was a written response. Cater bit his cheek. He had prepared for a mix of both. Rodentis had told him there would be both. His anger must have fed his headache because it got worse. He wiped his hands on his pants again.

He looked up at the clock. It was still stuck at the same hour as always.

Fuck . He couldn’t tell the time .

Cater continued at a steady pace. He shortened his responses to 3 sentences each, not wanting to run out of time.

He thought he was doing well, he was so close to the last question and Rodentis hadn’t even called-

“5 minutes remaining,” Rodentis called out. 

What? Has he called time at all up until this point?

Question 15: Explain your current grade and what you could do to improve it. 10 sentences minimum.

Shit, Cater stared at his paper blankly. I have to hurry.

Cater wrote at lightning speed. He was rattling off ideas. His handwriting was barely legible - that would definitely be points off.

He’d only made it to 6 sentences before Professor Rodentis ordered, “Pens down. Pass your booklets to the front.”

Cater sighed and placed his pen down. He’d thought he’d done fairly well considering the time limit being unbeknownst to him until the 5-minute mark. 

But it wasn’t a B. Rodentis would give him a C max. A new feeling overtook Cater: impending doom. He considered excusing himself to the bathroom, but he couldn’t get himself to move.

“I’m taking these up to read your responses personally, ” Rodentis said. “I hope to see lots of lengthy responses. Everyone is dismissed except for Mr. Diamond.”

Cater fought the urge to flee. The room cleared out quickly and Cater hesitantly rose from his seat and approached Rodentis’s desk. 

His entire head was throbbing. He felt as if he were going to collapse as he walked.

“Mr. Diamond,” Rodentis addressed him sternly. “We’re going to review your final together since you told me you believed a one-on-one session would be helpful.”

Cater’s heart sank. 

“Professor, I have another final today-” Cater quickly explained. 

“-Not for another 3 hours. We have plenty of time,” Rodentis cut him off, flipping through the stack of booklets. “Ah, here it is.” 

Rodentis dropped Cater’s booklet in the middle of his desk with a thunk. 

“Question 1…it looks okay. Good length,” Cater fought the urge to smile at Rodentis’s words. Rodentis was praising his work? Maybe, it was a good sign.

His optimism was quickly shot down: “-but it lacks substance.” 

Cater bit down on his cheek, hard .

Lower end of the scale. A little more effort. I don’t think he’s stupid but-

Rodentis moved quickly, marking through entire sentences in red pen. 

He tasted metal; his cheek was bleeding again .

This continued for every question until the very last one. Rodentis paused and closed the booklet entirely not even looking at it. Perhaps, Rodentis was sparing Cater by withholding his critique of the final question. 

Cater’s cheek was starting to hurt, bad , from his teeth. His stomach turned. It felt significantly worse than it had when he woke up. 

“Mr. Diamond, at the beginning of the semester, I met with Headmaster Crowley. I asked about the students in my classes. When I got to you, do you know what he told me?” 

Cater shook his head. He felt like he shouldn’t move - almost as if he moved Rodentis would murder him right where he stood. Could he move? Cater ordered himself to wiggle his fingers, but they lay limp at his sides. He wanted to get out .

“He told me: ‘Ah, yes! I believe his father is a banker.’” 

So, Rodentis knew . It made complete sense; of course, he’d choose to single out a student he expected better from.

“So, of course, I was excited to see what work you had in store for me. With your father being a banker, I assumed you’d know the basics.”

A lot of people, erroneously, followed the same thinking pattern. Realistically, Cater shouldn’t struggle at all with economics. After 18 years, he should have picked up some information from his father’s mini-lessons. Even Trey had told him once, “Maybe your father can tutor you a bit?”

But they were wrong . He didn’t pick up anything. He could barely even pick up the material in his classes.

Cater didn’t have his father’s mind at all.  

His father was successful, experienced, and focused . Cater was a below-average student, struggled to find internships, and spent hours on his assignments if he didn’t find some sort of loophole to make it go faster. 

No matter how much he applied himself or studied, he just couldn’t get certain things. 

I don’t think he’s stupid but-

“So, would you care to explain how and why ,” Rodentis was yelling . Cater froze up. “You haven’t managed to get anything above a 65 on my tests?”

He is on the lower end of the scale.

“Are you distracted, Mr. Diamond?”

“I have trouble focusing at times, but I swear I’m trying my best. I worked hard to study for this final, Professor Rodentis,” Cater’s voice sounded weak compared to Rodentis’s. His mouth was bone dry. He was shocked he was able to find anything to say. His brain screamed at him to run , but he felt glued to the floor.

“If this -” Rodentis waved the booklet in the air. “-is your best then your father must be very disappointed in you.”

Well, he’s not doing much to show his Professors he isn’t.

Rodentis wasn’t wrong about that. After failing this class, disappointment would be an understatement . 

Rodentis slammed the booklet on top of the larger stack. He couldn’t get enough air, he couldn’t move, his head was throbbing, his stomach was turning, and he couldn’t breathe .

“If I wasn’t obvious enough-” Rodentis’s volume had lowered to a whisper, but he still sounded just as threatening. “You have failed my class, Mr. Diamond.”

Everything froze . Cater felt like he wasn’t in his body anymore. He felt everything - his head, his stomach, his lungs. It didn’t feel real , though. It was like he was watching himself from afar.

It was real, though.

Cater braced himself for the inevitable: Rodentis would drag him to Headmaster Crowley, his parents would be invited to Night Raven for a conference, his father would scold him, he’d be officially stupid, he would have to come clean to Trey, and-

“However, I am not going to call your parents. Not yet.”

To say that Cater was relieved would be an understatement . The adrenaline of being yelled at hadn’t worn off, but he was overjoyed knowing his father wouldn’t be the next in line. Cater took in a half-breath to prove he could still breathe. He wiggled his fingers.  

“I want an essay, a proper essay on your father’s job. I want it the day you get back from winter break. Interview him and write about what you learned. Perhaps, he’ll rub off on you. If you do it remarkably well, I’ll bump up your grade to a B. Dismissed.” 

Rodentis waved a lazy hand and Cater’s mouth moved before his brain could. “Thank you, I’ll be sure to get it done. Thank you .” 

Cater felt as if he were in the Twilight Zone. He grabbed his phone, stumbled out of the classroom, and collected his thoughts.

All he had to do was do a report. One report and he could pass the class - with a B. A B! 

From a failing grade to a B!

Some higher being must have been watching over him. 

Despite his relief, he couldn’t relax. His chest was still tight and he couldn’t take in a full breath. His headache wasn’t raging , but it was still a noticeable ache. He leaned against the wall, not trusting his legs to hold him upright.

He turned on his phone. 11:43 AM. 

He had less than an hour before his next exam. He scrolled through his notifications. 

4 msgs from Trey

Trey: Astrology was surprisingly easy. 93.

Trey: Alchemy was difficult. 

Trey: We should meet in the library before dinner so we can exchange notes.

Trey: How was economics?

Cater stared at the messages. 93. The astrology exam was easy . That made his score even more embarrassing. 

Alchemy…he had that exam the next day . He’d have to cram for that all night. 

He continued to avoid the truth.

Cater: great! i got a 75 which means i passed the class so i’m glad 

Another lie. Honesty wasn’t even an option when it came to Rodentis. Telling the truth about it all would be 

Cater: also sorry but no dinner 2nite i have to cram for alchemy

Cater had absolutely no appetite. He wasn’t sure if he’d be hungry for the rest of the day , let alone for dinnertime. He felt guilty since he had promised Trey, but he didn’t even want to think about food. 

Trey: Just come to the library. I’ll fill you in.

Stupidly, Cater agreed . 

Cater: okay!

He was so on edge . He knew he wouldn’t be able to focus in the library. That would cut hours off his study time. 

He was so stupid and, yet again, got into a sticky situation by not using his brain.

He moved on to his next exam: Advanced Potionology. His mind couldn’t focus on the exam material. 

If this is your best then your father must be very disappointed in you.

For the written part, it was 50 multiple-choice questions.

Question 1 …

Cater flipped through the exam. Almost entirely memorization. A lot of the questions were easy, so why was he blanking?

His headache throbbed behind his eyes. He rested his head in his hands. The seconds blurred together. 

The questions were all straightforward. 

It was all resolved. He’d write the essay, and get a B, and his parents would never have to talk to Rodentis. 

To prevent himself from failing this exam, he’d have to pull himself together.

Cater’s mind flipped back and forth between Rodentis, his father, and the exam.

He’d completed question 60 exactly when Professor Crewel called time.

“We will be moving on to the practical part. Pens down,” Professor Crewel announced to the class.

“You’ll be drawing the potions you’re brewing from a hat, good luck,” Crewel said before returning to his desk. Shit , did he remember how to brew that? “I will call you alphabetically to brew the potion under my supervision.”

When Cater was called, he shakily rose from his seat. The hat sat at the front of Crewel’s desk. He hesitantly pulled out a name: Elderberry.

Cater looked at the ingredients in front of him. Beetroot, cocoa powder, beansprout-

He’d brewed this potion back in his 10th year. He scavenged his brain for the order of ingredients. Crewel observed him with an unreadable expression.

He dropped a vial of sap on the floor, shattering it. He wasn’t sure if it was due to his hands being sweaty or shaky. 

Crewel jotted something down on his clipboard at that.

He bit his cheek. Getting worked up is just gonna make it worse , Cater told himself. He continued with little incident.

The result was slightly off-color and was way too bubbly. It smelled rancid. Cater gagged.

“Mr. Diamond,” Professor Crewel circled the cauldron. He tsked. “This was more of an intermediate-level potion. As a third year, I was expecting a perfect brew from you. I know I trained you better than this. Or, perhaps you are not taking this class as seriously as you could?”

I don’t think he’s stupid but-

If Cater had more courage, he would argue that he was taking the class seriously. He would bring up how hard he was trying . He was forced to take on so many things at one time and was trying his hardest. He was struggling to focus, he felt terrible physically, and he had no idea how to fix it. For some reason, it wasn’t enough . He knew he had messed up his studying, but he still studied .

You just don’t apply yourself.

Applying himself wasn’t working. He’d worked for hours upon hours and still couldn’t manage to do well. He couldn’t blame it on his sudden illness, either. It was how Cater was and always will be. No amount of applying himself could fix the fact that he was stupid . 

Cater couldn’t say any of that. He bit into his cheek. 

“I am not impressed. 70. I will review your written exam later.”

Chapter Text

Trey was sitting in his usual spot in the library. Cater relaxed slightly at the sight of him. Trey had always been a voice of reason, a diffuser of tension, and just a good friend in general. He couldn’t tell Trey what had been going on, which sucked , but Trey was there. That’s all that mattered to Cater.

Cater collapsed in the seat next to Trey. Trey noticed, giving Cater a look of concern. He waved it off with a smile and a thumbs up.

“I’m exhausted from exams today,” he joked. His headache was still eating away at him, his stomach was in knots, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to take his exams the next day.

He was unsure of what else to say. He couldn’t talk about Rodentis. Could he say anything about Crewel? Did he want to talk about his mystery illness? 

“The alchemy exam,” Cater tiptoed around the subject of either of his exams. “What was so hard about it?”

“The first part was fairly simple,” Trey explained. “Just a few multiple-choice questions about rules and regulations. Riddle’s study guide should get you through that part. Focus on memorizing as many rules as you can.”

Cater nodded. Riddle’s Magicam guides had helped tremendously - it was Cater who was the problem. He spent the vast majority of his time studying economics and neglected his other courses.

“The second part was harder: you had to observe your classmates and give them notes.” Trey let out a deep sigh. “Some of them were flawless , I struggled to find room for improvement.”

“That sounds terrifying.” It was the first honest thing Cater had told Trey since exam season began . 

Sad.

“Everything was written, of course. Still, it was nerve-wracking. Trein staring you down the entire time doesn’t make it any better.”

“What did you get?”

“A 80. He graded it hard,” Trey sighed. “Both of your exams tomorrow are Trein’s, right?”

Cater’s stomach tightened. Trey studied - on a schedule - and still barely got a B. In his best subject.

“Yikes, I wish you the best. I have no idea how rough conjuration will be. I’m not taking that class.”

The conversation died down from there. Trey (surprisingly) didn’t ask him about his potionology exam.

Cater opened up his alchemy textbook. There were so many spells and Cater quickly became overwhelmed. 

Initially, he managed to memorize 50 of the 200. However, after cramming for other exams, who knew how many he could successfully cast?

There was no way he could memorize so many in a night. 

“Hey, Trey, I’m not feeling too well,” Cater’s voice was shaking. He wasn’t feeling well - he hadn’t been since he woke up and he wasn’t sure if he’d pass his exam. “You can go ahead to dinner, I’m going back to my room.”

“Oh,” Trey looked concerned. “I was hoping we could talk about the economics exam, but if you’re not feeling well, go ahead. I’ll ask Riddle about it.”

“Thanks, Trey,” Cater muttered. 

He made a beeline straight for his dorm room. He couldn’t ride his skateboard - he wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t faceplant. 

He needed to get the material down.

He passed Ace and Deuce, who didn’t notice him, as he passed by the kitchen. He was grateful for the absence of Trey and Riddle.

He let his backpack slip off his shoulders when he returned to his room. He stumbled onto his bed and curled up.

He needed to study, but he was exhausted. He forced himself to move; he unzipped his bag and retrieved his textbook from it. 

First transfiguration: Metals to organic material.

Ok, Cater thought. I can do this .

The most common usage of this spell-

Wait, had he skipped something? Backtrack.

Metals to organic-

His phone vibrated in his bag. He sat up, slowly , and pulled it out.

1 msg from Dad

Dad: I hope you are doing well. I know you’re busy with your exams, but be sure to give us a call when you can. Love you.

Oh shit.

He should call his father. That way, he could bend the situation in his favor. He could lie about his economics final and say Rodentis had a change of heart and assigned a new final. For his other grades, his father wouldn’t be surprised. He wanted Cater to earn better grades and would be disappointed, but he wouldn’t be surprised.  

It would still hurt . Cater’s father lived in his head. He'd internalized many of his beliefs. He wouldn't be able to brush off the disappointment. But that was normal for him. The constant disappointment was normal. 

Yet, he had worked for hours to avoid failing his exam. He was terrified of failing. If he failed his next exam, he wouldn’t be able to brush it off. 

Failure was normal and mortifying at the same time. Failing would confirm what he already knew about himself. A little part of himself had been sneakily reminding him his entire life. He was stupid , and it was untrue and if he had his father’s brain, he would still be a failure . Failed to live up to his father’s expectations, failed to pass his classes, failed to work hard enough, failed to prove he was capable, failed to be honest with his friends-

He had to study. He sent his father a quick text back.

Cater: hey dad! i’ll call tmrw…i am super swamped with studying

Focus . 

At midnight, and after 6 hours into retaining nothing , Cater went to bed.

At 8:30 AM on the second to last day of exams, Cater contemplated continuing the sick lie and using Trey to cover for him. 

He didn’t. He couldn’t - it would just mean taking his exams on the makeup day. He’d have more time to study, but he didn’t know how much energy he could muster up to make it through another day .

He could take the day to rest, but he didn’t know how much that would fix. His brain? His focus?

At 9:45 AM, he was circling his best guess on a question about a rule he’d never even heard of. His vision was getting fuzzy around the edges again, but he soldiered on.

At 10:30 AM, it was his turn for him to perform spells in front of his class. 

“Now, convert everyone’s papers to beetroot,” Trein ordered. Or, he thought that was what Trein had told him to do. 

That was easy enough. Cater waved his wand and watched the room’s papers turn to beetroot.

When he looked up, he saw glares that ranged from annoyed to mocking. 

“Mr. Diamond, I said my paperweight .” 

Cater’s stomach flipped. How had he misheard that? Trein was speaking clearly . 

He took a deep breath. He just wasn’t focused .

He bit his cheek.

“Alright, now, summon a vegetable and convert it to a heavy metal.”

I have no idea how to do that.

Leona snickered. Malleus raised his eyebrows in amusement. Trein sucked his teeth.

Oh, he’d said that out loud . He smiled sheepishly.

Cater was mortified . He had humiliated himself completely. 

The train wreck continued for 5 more spells before Trein sighed, ended his turn prematurely, and sent him back to his seat.

When he returned to his seat, he was so consumed by his embarrassment that he forgot about observing his classmates.

Outside of a few, “good”s and “okay”s, his criticism was poor.

He stared at his paper. There was no way he was going to pass. Trein had barely passed his better work - how in the world was he going to pass his final?

His headache swelled. Tears pricked at his eyes. He blinked them away. 

He looked up and saw Trein staring down at him.

“Mr. Diamond.” Cater forced himself to take a deep breath. “I do not enjoy prying into my students’ personal lives, but I must ask-” 

Metallic taste. His cheek was throbbing.

“-are you alright?”

Cater didn’t even know where to begin. 

He had no excuse for his poor performance. His pounding headache was one thing, but feeling a little under the weather wouldn’t cause him to completely bomb an exam. Sleep wasn’t coming the easiest to him, nor was the material. However, that was how it had always been.

It was his fault he hadn’t studied thoroughly enough to do well on the exam. For his other exams, a lack of time management contributed to his low scores. He couldn’t even manage a decent grade on his economics exam and he worked really hard studying for it. 

He wasn’t applying himself. It was showing. He was a failure.

“Of course, Professor Trein,” Cater lied. His voice came out weaker than he intended. “My study habits haven’t been too great this exam season. I haven’t been sleeping well and I’ve been distracted.”

“That much is obvious,” Trein’s tone wasn’t angry, but more even and observant. Cater retreated slightly under Trein’s glare. “Professor Rodentis is especially concerned with your scores and wellbeing.”

Cater stopped breathing. He looked down at the floor.

“He said you’d begged for an alternate assignment and he graciously provided to you. However, you seem to not be jumping at the chance now.”

That wasn’t the story at all . Rodentis had grilled him and suddenly, as if a switch had flipped, offered him the essay option. 

Cater could have protested, but he was the one who was at a disadvantage. If he argued, Trein would assume he was ungrateful and he could lose all sympathy from Rodentis and Trein. He bit his tongue.

“Yes, I was so thankful for the essay option,” Cater said. He took a shot in the dark. “If you’d be willing-”

Trein raised an eyebrow at him, obviously skeptical of Cater. 

“I would happily provide that, however-” Trein summoned a file from his desk. “-I would be more willing to offer that to a student who has worked hard all semester.”

It would be extremely embarrassing and ineffective to try and convince Trein that he had been working hard. His grade was barely passing. He was known at school as the Magicam expert. It didn’t take a genius to connect his constant phone usage and low grades. He was lazy and worked around assignments instead of through. He had tried, truly. It was just so difficult to not give up when you couldn’t focus on anything and knew the outcome would always be the same.

Of course, the hypothetical effort he put into the class was impossible to prove. 

It was a losing battle. He stayed quiet. 

“Your overall grade was improving. I heard Mr. Rosehearts was helping you study. That’s a commendable action,” Trein’s voice stayed even, but his message was becoming clear. “Did you employ his help for the final?”

Rodentis and Trein had discussed him in detail. What else had Rodentis told Trein? Did he tell the entire staff about being caught on his phone? No wonder why Trein was skeptical.

Cater nodded. Trein shot him an incredulous look. 

“You proved to me you were capable of raising your grade. In my astrology class, you were doing fairly well,” Trein continued. “You were capable of doing well on your exams.”

Trein was right. Rodentis was right. His father was right. Cater wasn’t trying hard enough. That’s what applying himself ultimately chalked up to. Effort. 

Is a little more effort in school too much to ask?

Cater wasn’t putting in enough effort . The hours he spent studying weren’t enough . Effort couldn’t fix stupid , but how did he know that? He hadn’t been working to his full potential.

He thought back to the “study breaks” he spent scrolling through Magicam. A complete waste of time he should have used for studying. 

He couldn’t blame his failure on fatigue or focus or stupidity because it was his fault. He hadn’t studied enough. That was the bottom line. He was a failure.

He’d allowed his father’s and Rodentis’s words to distract him. It was obvious they both cared for Cater’s success. They were trying to encourage him and Cater let it hurt him.

Still, no excuse. 

Cater’s stomach churned and he fought the urge to dry heave on the spot. Nothing would come up. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d eaten.

“I apologize, I didn’t put in enough effort.” 

When was the last time Cater had even felt hungry ?

“I hate to fail students, however…your exam was incomplete. You haven’t adequately explained the circumstances of your poor score. If you have, you don’t seem to be under extenuating circumstances…I have no choice but to fail you.”

“I failed the class,” Cater said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Mr. Diamond. I will put in a request to the Headmaster to make sure you get this class next semester. Good luck on your next exam.”

His father was going to kill him.

2 msgs from Trey

Trey: How was your exam?

Trey: Also, are you feeling better?

He pocketed his phone and made a beeline for the bathroom. He splashed water on his face and tried to remember how to breathe.

His second exam of the day, conjuration, went slightly better. He couldn’t focus at all and was numbly circling answers.

He’d failed . He’d been trying to avoid failing the entire time and still managed to. 

Shoot for the stars and you’ll faceplant on the ground.

His stomach bothered him the entire exam. His head felt like it was being pierced by a fire poker. Red, fiery, throbbing pain. It radiated down into his cheek, which he had bitten and bled to hell. He couldn’t breathe. He loosened his tie, his collar - nothing was helping .

He managed to keep it together on the exterior.

He’d received a 65, earning him a 68 overall in the class. He passed. Trein’s gaze was fixated on Cater for the duration of his next exam. Cater didn’t dare to rip his eyes from his paper in fear of meeting Trein’s eyes. 

Trein didn’t hold him back after that exam. Cater didn’t attempt to find Trey in the library. Instead, Cater sped off on his skateboard and planned on shutting himself in his dorm.

He almost ran into Riddle on the way back to his dorm, but he hid in a doorway before he could be spotted.

In his room, it was as if he had been run over by a train . His cheek throbbed and a wave of nausea overtook him.

He flopped down on his bed. The ceiling pulsed above him as his headache swelled. He considered calling his father and explaining everything. He considered hiding his phone in his dresser and wrapping himself in his blankets until it was time to go home. 

Either way, he would return home to a deeply disappointed father (and, most likely, mother). His sisters would look at him pitifully but not truly care about his predicament. 

Disappointed . 

His chest felt like an anvil was sitting on top of it. Cater forced himself to take a breath. 

He couldn’t . He sat up on his elbows. His arms felt heavy. They struggled to support his weight.

He tried to retake a breath. His chest was tight, no air flowed inside his lungs.

He was hyperventilating. He placed a hand against his chest. His heart was thumping frantically.

He tried again, and again, and again to take a breath- no air.

He couldn’t breathe.

Cater was half-convinced he was dying. He was going to die in his dorm room.

His palms were sweating, leaving wet marks on his comforter. His cheeks were wet- was he crying ?

He needed to get help.

He forced himself to stand on shaky legs. He stumbled to his door and wiggled the handle. 

He couldn’t get his hand to cooperate, it refused to turn the lock. He tried again, and again, and again.

He gave up after his 8th attempt. His body lowered itself to the floor. He didn’t feel like he was in it.

After that, time bled together. He was sure he’d be dying in his dorm room. 

He remembers hearing voices pass through the hallway. He remembers breathing painfully slowly needing air .

Cater didn’t text his Dad or Trey back. Instead, he wrapped himself in his blankets and tried to forget about it all.

Once he had calmed down, he wrapped himself in his sheets.

At dinner time, Trey came by his dorm. 

Upon hearing the 3 knocks, Cater froze. 

He felt bad, but he needed to be alone. He couldn’t say anything. 

“Cater? You left your jacket in Rodentis’s room. Are you in there?” 

His jacket? Oh, right. He’d shed it cause he was boiling during his economics exam. 

3 knocks again.

Another voice, Riddle’s said, “If he’s asleep, we don’t want to wake him. Return it to him tomorrow.”

There were no more knocks. 

Cater woke up at 10 PM, not knowing when he fell asleep. He groggily felt around his nightstand for his phone.

He texted Trey first.

Cater: sry for not responding i’m a bit sick

Cater: alchemy went well - i got an 86!

Cater: im not sure if i can text as much over break but have a nice break! 

Cater: im leaving tmrw morning so seeya in a few weeks <3

Trey: I came by earlier. I assumed you were asleep. I have your jacket if you want to meet up tomorrow morning.

Once again, he would have to lie to Trey. He wasn’t leaving the next morning. 

Cater: oh i’m leaving suuuuper early :( thx for taking my jacket!

Another stupid decision. He would have to continuously avoid Trey.

Trey: See you in January. Text me when you get home.

Cater: i will!!!! <3

Cater tossed his phone, not caring where it landed.

Fuck. FUCK.