Chapter Text
Riddle Rosehearts was nine years old when he gained his first friend.
(It was an accident, I didn’t mean to)
He was studying, as he was supposed to. Day by day. Hour upon hour. Study, train, learn. Let the week pass and another will repeat in exactly the same way. That was his life, listen to his mother and do your best to be a good son.
When Trey came into his life, it was like a beam of sunshine. So gentle. So kind.
Chenya was like a bucket of water on a warm day. Shocking, but no less welcome.
They took him outside. They played with him. They took him home when it was time for his mother to come home.
(I never wanted to do that)
His mother never found out.
Until she did.
Tray let him eat a tart. With its sweet taste and aroma, Riddle dug in for the first time in his life. He fell in love right away. His eyes sparkled as he cherished the taste, before taking another bite. And another. And another.
Chenya was cheering on him, smiling.
Trey was smiling as well, so happy for him. So happy Riddle liked his first taste of tart.
Who knew the same tart would become his undoing ?
The time went on without him realizing.
(We should have know, should have paid attention)
When his mother walked into the shop, it was already too late.
One look at her face and he was terrified. Fell backward in shock and stayed there, his body stiff.
That was when he realized for the first time - he didn’t want to go home.
His mother was yelling. At him, at Trey, at Chenya who was already halfway invisible. At Trey’s parents, for even daring to let him have something sweet for once.
She yelled and yelled and yelled. The crowd formed, came closer, staring at the shop, trying to find the culprit.
Couldn’t they see that he never wanted this? Couldn’t they see he just wanted to taste a tart for the first time?!
It was Trey’s fault she said, not mentioning he had never eaten a tart before. Chenya’s fault, for encouraging him to run from home, never saying how he studied for hours to no end.
The fault of Trey’s parents, who never contacted her to tell her her son was coming over.
Wasn’t that what friends do? Wasn’t that what normal was supposed to be like?
(I didn’t want to cry, I want to scream)
She grabbed his hand, and for once, he pulled back.
She let go of him, shocked.
Then, she looked even more mad.
He took after her, in that aspect.
Her face turned red at not being listened t.
His did the same. He yelled at her. She yelled back.
“You never let me out!”
“You should listen to your mother!”
“I wanted friends!”
“To distract you?! And for what?! To eat cake when your mother told you not to!”
The crowd was bigger than before. They were staring at them. Him on the ground, his entire face red. Her, standing above him, just as red.
He could feel the saltiness of tears. It didn’t take a genius to realize they were his.
His mother grabbed for him again. He slapped her hand away with a well-placed spell.
He screamed, loud, so loud his own ears hurt.
(I wish you weren’t my mother, I didn’t say)
(I wish you weren't my son, is what she would have said back, I knew)
She did it again. He did too.
He didn’t realize how quickly his sight was growing dark. Didn’t realize when his tears turned to back ink.
His mother too, didn’t, not stopping her attacks. He didn’t either.
“How dare you speak to me like that?!” she yelled, loud. His head hurt. He didn’t want to listen. He didn’t want to see her. Didn’t want to think about her, never again.
When the magic exploded out of him, he didn’t think. Didn’t care where he was. Didn’t care who was there.
For the first time, it felt like he was finally free.
That, like the Queen of Roses who followed only her own rules, he too could, for once, do as he pleased.
He could remember the smudges of green and purple.
Could remember red, so much red.
And then he couldn’t remember anything else.
And when he woke up, there was blue.
When he woke up, he couldn’t do magic.
When he woke up, Trey and Chenya were… gone? Did they leave him too?
When he woke up, his mother was no longer with him.
Overblot, they called it.
He lost himself. He was there to be looked at. He was just supposed to take it as a visit to the doctor.
He didn’t believe them.
When he asked about anything, they never answered.
They called themselves doctors, but in his eyes, they looked like the mad scientists from one of Chenya’s books.
He heard them, once, talking about others. He didn’t know what they meant.
Then, another appeared. Smaller. Child, like him.
He was grinning. His hair was on fire. He named Riddle a Rose, because his name was prohibited. Riddle called him a Firefly.
“They don’t tell you because you won’t remember. They will wipe your memories,” he said and Riddle was shocked into silence, “They call you subject because you’re interesting. Too young to overblot. But-”
“But?”
“There is more of you. It’s the first time people my age are around. So I wanted to meet you all.”
“Why? What happened?” he asked. He wished he didn’t.
His mother was gone. He destroyed Tray’s bakery. Everyone was hurt, all because of him.
After all that, even his friends would leave him!
“Nah, said the other boy, kicking his feet, “They will wipe that too. Change it to a natural disaster or something. They always do, if they want to return you.”
“But-” said Riddle, his eyes cast downwards, “I’m dangerous. I will hurt them again.”
And the boy smirked, all proud, his eyes shining, “Then, want to remember with me and the rest?”