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Riddle’s bedroom was cold that night.
A thunderstorm raged outside the window; peals shaking the glass panes in their frame and lightning flashing constantly. Each strike illuminated Riddle’s bedroom for a brief moment, revealing terrifying shapes and visages in the corners. Riddle himself had long since sought refuge under his blankets, but nothing could completely dampen the roar of the squall.
Finally, when Riddle could bear it no longer, he darted out from his bed and ran to the door to seek refuge in his mother’s embrace—only to find it locked from the outside. Then he remembered why it was locked.
He had broken a rule.
Riddle had been caught by his mother outside, shoes off, playing in the creek that ran through the woods behind his home with the baker’s boy and the cat when he was supposed to be studying in his bedroom. As punishment, his mother had sent him to bed without supper and had locked the door behind him so he couldn’t come out until morning.
He fell to his knees at the door, squeezing his eyes shut and shivering in the cold, cold bedroom. Unshed tears clung to his lashes and froze into ice crystals.
“Pathetic,” a voice said from across the room. Riddle gasped and wrenched his eyes open—he was alone, he knew he was, so where had the voice come from? When he turned, he saw a glint of a grin flashing in and out of existence with every lightning strike—sometimes with fangs peeking out, other times without. Then golden yellow eyes appeared above the grin, with slitted pupils—or were the eyes more honey-colored with round pupils? Riddle couldn’t tell.
The mouth opened to speak. The voice this time sounded different from the first. “We thought you were braver than this. That you were better than this.”
Riddle sobbed. “I am! I can be good, I won’t—I won’t break the rules again.”
“That’s just the problem, though, Riddle.” The first voice was back, sharp teeth appearing in the mouth, slitted pupils boring straight through Riddle to pierce his soul. “You’re so worried about the rules... we don’t want to play with you anymore.”
“Good riddance.” The honey-colored eyes rolled and the grin turned to a frown. “We never liked you anyway. If you care about the rules so much, you can follow them alone.”
Riddle’s eyes went wide, tears spilling out at the harsh words. “No... no, please, I don’t want to be alone... I don’t want to be alone!”
“Riddle Rosehearts! What are you doing out of bed? I told you to sleep, didn’t I?” Riddle could hear his mother’s voice, loud and angry, through his bedroom door. With a yelp, he scrambled to his feet and dove for his bed, but he was too late—a cold grip like iron locked around his ankle and yanked him backward. When he looked back over his shoulder, the figure holding him was tall, wearing a tattered red and black dress. In its free hand, it held a rosebush; ink spilled from a cracked, heart-shaped glass bottle topped with a crown in place of its head.
The figure spoke with his mother’s disembodied voice. “You disobedient, insolent child! I’ll teach you what happens to rule-breakers in this household! OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!” It raised its arm, swinging the rosebush down on top of him, ready to crush him flat.
“ NO! ”
Riddle jerked awake, smothering a scream with his hands and shying away from the figure looming above him. It took him a long moment to realize that he wasn’t in his childhood bedroom, but the Housewarden’s quarters at Heartslabyul Dorm. The room wasn’t being lit by flashes of lightning, but a soft lamp at his bedside. And instead of a jeering, mysterious face and a Phantom's cold grip, Trey Clover looked down at him with a concerned expression.
“Hey,” Trey said softly. “Are you with me now?”
Riddle shuddered. One of the voices from his dream... from his nightmare had been Trey’s. The other, he realized belatedly, was Che’nya. “I’m here,” he murmured.
“What happened? I was just heading to bed myself and I could hear you crying.” Trey sat down on the edge of Riddle’s bed, picking up one of his hands and squeezing it gently.
“Just a nightmare.” Riddle’s cheeks flushed a bit pink and he turned his gaze away. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” Trey asked.
Riddle shook his head quickly. How could he tell Trey the truth when it involved so much of their shared past—a past that he just wanted to put behind him—and when it reminded him of the events that had recently occurred during his time at S.T.Y.X.?
But Trey seemed unwilling to accept that answer. One thumb rubbed soothing circles over the back of Riddle’s hand, while the other reached up to brush the tears from one cheek. “We’re boyfriends, Riddle,” Trey said quietly. “Please don’t shut me out like this. If you won’t talk about it, then I’ll be forced to take matters into my own hands.”
“What do you mean?” Riddle looked back up at Trey in confusion—only to let out a yelp of surprise as Trey’s hands ripped the blanket off Riddle’s lap before scooping the second year into his arms. “Put me down, Trey! I can walk myself...!”
“Nope,” Trey replied bluntly. “This is for your own good.” Riddle wanted to squirm, to fight his way out of Trey’s embrace... but he couldn’t deny that it felt warm and comforting and nice to be held like this. So he settled, letting Trey carry him the short distance from the Housewarden’s bedroom to his room. As vice-Housewarden, Trey’s bedroom was the closest in the third year wing to the Housewarden’s bedroom. They arrived within a minute or so and Riddle reached out to turn the knob since Trey’s hands were full.
Trey didn’t let Riddle go until he’d crossed the room and settled the younger man on the bed. He sat down next to Riddle a moment later. “Now, are you going to talk, or am I going to have to pursue even more extreme measures?” he asked.
“What could be even more extreme than this?” Riddle replied incredulously. “You’ve practically kidnapped me!”
“I’ll call Che’nya,” Trey said. “You know he’d pop over in a heartbeat. And then what will you do? A student from Royal Sword Academy showing up unannounced in the Heartslabyul dormitory while the Housewarden himself is breaking curfew...?” His voice was as calm and even as always, but Riddle could see the threat for what it was.
Riddle’s head and shoulders both dropped in defeat. “Fine, I will tell you about my nightmare.”
“Thank you.” Trey smiled gently and leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of Riddle’s head. “Let’s get settled into bed and then you can tell me all about it.” With that, he stood and tugged at the corner of his blankets. Riddle did the same on the opposite side, and soon the two of them were snuggled warmly under the thick down comforter and soft linen bed sheet. Trey’s arms were wrapped around Riddle’s waist and Riddle’s head rested on Trey’s bicep.
“I was...” Riddle hesitated for a long moment; he drew in a deep breath as his heart began to pound once again. One of Trey’s hands reached up to start playing with Riddle’s hair, gently running through the silky strands. The soft, rhythmic movements helped Riddle’s anxiety to settle and he closed his eyes.
“I was in my old bedroom,” he began. “Mother had sent me to bed without supper because she had caught me outside playing with you and Che’nya that day. It was storming, and... and the lightning was making frightening shapes in the shadows. I tried to get out because I was frightened, but she had locked the door from the outside. And then I heard voices—yours and Che’nya’s—saying that you didn’t want to play with me or be my friend anymore because I wasn’t willing to stand up to her. I wanted to argue with you, to say that I could change, but then Mother was outside the door, and she was so loud, and angry; and then it wasn't Mother at all, it was my Phantom—” Riddle’s throat seized up, lungs unable to take in air. Tears were trailing down his cheeks again as he recalled the image of his own Phantom about to destroy him.
Trey’s arms tightened around Riddle, nearly crushing him in a fierce hug. “It’s okay. You’re safe, from your mother and from your Phantom. And I would never abandon you like that, I promise. I know Che’nya wouldn’t, either.” The words were quiet in Riddle’s ear, but no less intense for their low volume. “Do you want me to call him? Not to come over, but just. To talk. To hear his voice, see his face.”
It took Riddle a long moment to parse Trey’s words, but he slowly nodded into his boyfriend's chest. Trey let out a small sigh of relief when Riddle acquiesced. He resumed petting Riddle’s head with one hand while reaching over him to retrieve his phone from the nightstand with the other.
In just a few moments, a sleepy-eyed Che’nya appeared on the phone screen. Riddle had wiped the tears from his face, but his eyes were still rimmed with red; Che’nya seemed to notice it right away. “What’s wrong, Little Rid Riding Hood?” he asked quizzically, tilting his head to one side. “Did someone make you cry?”
Riddle frowned at the nickname. Che’nya had never once called him by his proper name, not since they had first met all those years ago. “Not someone; I had a nightmare,” he replied softly.
“We were in it, apparently,” Trey explained when Riddle seemed reticent to continue. “So I thought we could have a virtual slumber party until Riddle feels comfortable enough to fall back to sleep.”
“Sounds like fun! Count me in. As long as you don’t lump me in with the sheep, that is.” The comment drew a small chuckle from Trey; but surprisingly, even Riddle cracked a smile at that.
Riddle replied, “I doubt anyone could ever mistake you for a sheep. You are far too opinionated and have a tendency to go off on your own.”
“Mmm... Purrhaps. We’re all a bit mad here, aren’t we?” Che’nya gave them a toothy grin over the video call.
And with that, the three boys settled into a quiet conversation, much like old times; except instead of talking about what games they wanted to play during Riddle’s next self-study period, they discussed the comings and goings in their respective dormitories. Riddle found his head gradually bobbing as he fought against the urge to sleep... but eventually, he succumbed, making a pillow out of Trey’s broad chest.
Che’nya noticed the change in Riddle’s breathing first and smiled. “Little Rid’s fast asleep, huh?” he whispered.
Trey nodded. “Yeah. We’ll talk later, okay?”
“Okaaaay. G’night, Tree-Tree.”
“Good night, Che’nya.” Trey ended the call and set his phone aside once more, before pressing another kiss to the top of Riddle’s head. “And good night to you too, Riddle. Let’s have sweet dreams this time.” Smiling into Riddle’s hair at the feeling of his boyfriend lying in his arms, Trey closed his eyes and quickly joined Riddle in slumber.