Chapter Text
Riddle Rosehearts was a Not Boy of seventeen years of age. They were preparing for their eighteenth birthday party, which their best friend Trey had insisted they have. Eighteen is an important birthday, after all.
However, Riddle had never had a birthday party before. Its mother had never allowed it. It was no longer under the reign of its mother, though. It was at NRC, with its friends, and people it even considered family now. Riddle was finally safe to be itself.
It’s quite weird, you know. To be able to be yourself after repressing it for so long. Riddle hardly even knew how. What did he like? What did he dislike, truly? How much of him was his mother, and how much of him was, well, him? Riddle wasn’t sure he’d ever truly know. He did know, however, that all of this party planning was giving him a headache.
It arrived at its room and pulled off its school uniform jacket, placing it on its desk chair and sitting down. It laid out the binder Trey had given it; it was filled entirely with bright colours and loud patterns, ranging from red and white checkers to blue and green harlequins to purple and black dogtooth. It hurt its eyes. But it had promised Trey it’d pick a theme out, and it needed to stop procrastinating.
After flipping through just three pages, he groaned and leaned back to rub his eyes. Must he choose from such dastardly patterns? Perhaps Trey was plotting to kill him through migraines.
“Have ya picked something out?” a cat-like voice from behind Riddle asked abruptly. A surge of annoyance ran through them; they knew that voice.
“Che’nya,” it said without turning around. “How did you get into my room? Are you even allowed to be here?”
She rested her chin upon Riddle’s shoulder, “I got permission from your Headmage, and it’s still summer break for RSA.”
“Get off me,” Riddle shrugged the fiendish cat boy off, “And you didn’t tell me how you got into my room.”
“I’ve been here a while,” Che’nya stated as if it was the most normal thing ever. “Did ya not see me when you came in? Ah, wait. Of course, ya didn’t, I wasn’t fully here.”
Riddle finally turned their head to look at the intruder, and found him wearing not only his typical lazy grin, but an outfit different to his normal attire. Rather than the oversized button-up, striped t-shirt, and embroidered jeans combo he normally wore, he sported a pink tank top and white mid-thigh length shorts, that were just a bit tighter than what Riddle deemed necessary. Not only that, but his spiky purple hair was pulled into a ponytail.
“What in the world are you wearing?” Riddle asked disgustedly, as if it did not find Che’nya’s new look extremely attractive.
“It’s fucking hot out.” Che’nya turned, smiling mischievously at Riddle over their shoulder and swishing their fluffy purple tail. “Why? Do ya not like it?” they mewed.
Riddle rolled his eyes. “Get out. You are very distracting.” Che’nya pouted playfully, though it did not have the desired effect they were hoping for, as they were an entire foot taller than the 5’1” Riddle, even in their two-inch heels.
“Don’t make me say it again, Che’nya.” Riddle snapped.
“Aww, but Riddy. Trey asked me to come here to help with your party. Eighteen is a big number, after all.” Che’nya smiled once again, bending down to Riddle’s level.
Riddle hated when he did this. Not only did they find it extremely patronising, it forced them to notice just how pretty he was. How his citrine eyes sparkled like the actual stone in this lighting. How his lazy smile made their heart pound hard in their chest. How badly it made them want to kiss him…Why did he have to make them feel this way? Why couldn’t it have been anyone else? They grew up with him, he knew all of their darkest secrets, he’d seen them cry more times than they could count. He would never like them in the same way they liked him, he couldn’t. Che’nya was carefree and lovely, full of whimsy and joy and trouble, and Riddle was, well. Riddle was Riddle. Full of guilt and fear and worry, Riddle didn’t even really know themself at all, but Chen’ya? Che’nya knew himself very well. He had never once doubted himself. Not in the same way Riddle had, at least.
“You are not needed. Go home,” Riddle said, turning away as a blush formed across its face.
“No no wanna,” Che’nya replied, flopping onto Riddle’s bed. “I’m here to stay until my school starts on the first. I’m staying in your room, nya ha.”
Riddle’s heart skipped a beat. Two whole weeks? With Che’nya? In its room? It might just die . Che’nya was annoying , in a way that made Riddle question whether or not the entire reason for her existence was just to torment it. Not only that, but Riddle constantly found itself feeling flustered and nervous when she was around; it felt helpless, as if it might slip up and let loose all the feelings it secretly harboured for her.
Riddle did not like feeling helpless.
“Absolutely not!” Riddle snapped, still turned away from their friend. They could not bring themself to look at chaos. Not in that outfit. Not in their bed. Not when their room felt just as warm inside as it was outside.
Che’nya groaned behind it, “Please don’t make me go home,” chaos said, dropping their playful lilt. “Please.”
“Did you get into a fight with your parents again?” Riddle asked, staring down at their desk, their eyes particularly drawn to a pattern of black and white diamonds that had fallen out of the pattern binder.
“They didn’t like that I stayed back a year,” it muttered quietly, its tone barely audible. He whipped his head around at that, and saw Che’nya sitting up in the bed, its arms folded across its chest as it very pointedly looked away from Riddle.
“You WHAT?!” Riddle shouted, throwing their arms out.
“You and Trey were held back because of all the—” they paused for a second, searching for the word they wanted to use, “ bullshit with the overblots, I can’t just go on as normal.”
“So you just asked your Headmage to hold you back?”
“No. I skipped the finals, then fucked around on Sage’s Island for the next two months, before being brought home in handcuffs.”
Riddle felt as if it was going to have an aneurysm. They skipped finals and were brought home in handcuffs?
It blinked at the cat boy, who kept darting her eyes towards it anxiously. “You were brought home in handcuffs?”
“I was drunk and high and the guy I’d been fucking thought it was a good idea for us to vandalise that ‘phobic bar on 12th street. I’m only being fined, so it doesn’t really matter. It’s not even going on my permanent record.”
Riddle was shaking with rage now, not only had Che’nya done something so completely idiotic, they’d done it drunk and high, and while fucking some other guy . It was angry, so angry, not only at Che’nya, but at itself. How could it be jealous in this situation? Che’nya just admitted to committing a crime, to being arrested, and it was jealous of them fucking someone else? They weren’t even dating. They’d never even been close to dating. How could Riddle be so upset over something it’d never have a say in? Che’nya’s body was for them to do with what they wanted.
Riddle opened their mouth to say something, but all that came out was a cough. Then another. Then another.
They were having an asthma attack. They’d gotten so mad they’d triggered their asthma. They’d gotten so mad they’d triggered their asthma . This only angered them more, which, in turn, made their asthma even worse.
Truly, a horrid cycle.
“Hey. Hey!” Che’nya called, running over to the coughing ‘boy.’ Riddle did not do much other than cover its mouth and fall to its knees, almost hoping for its asthma to finally kill it. At least it wouldn’t have to deal with Che’nya.
“Where’s your inhaler?” Che’nya asked. “Is it on you?” Riddle was trying to loosen their tie, but found that their hands were shaking too much. The coughing had stopped, though only because their airway had swelled too much for any air to get through. They shook their head at Che’nya; if they’d been carrying their inhaler on them, they would’ve used it by now.
“Ah, shit,” said Che’nya, as he threw open all of Riddle’s desk drawers. “Fuck, Rid. You need to start carrying it on you again!”
Riddle had been carrying it on them; it was in their jacket.
“I don’t care how many of them you’ve broken, you can’t just be without it!”
Riddle was getting angrier. Riddle was also seeing stars.
“What if this happens when someone isn’t around? Fuck, where is it?” Che’nya’s voice had gotten desperate, fading into a small whimper. Riddle, whose vision was now extremely blurry and comparable to a vignette, kicked the taller boy’s ankles and knocked him down. He was in the way. It then kicked its left jacket pocket, hoping Che’nya was smart enough to realise what it was trying to convey. Apparently, he was.
Che’nya, scrambling, grabbed the inhaler from the jacket and placed it into Riddle’s mouth, pressing down on the top and pulling Riddle into its lap. Riddle breathed in the medicine as much as they could, finally letting out a cough. They brought their hand up to their inhaler, putting their hand over Che’nya’s and pressing down again. The medicine filled their lungs, and breathing seemed to come easier again. They panted and wheezed, laying their head into Che’nya’s chest. He dropped the inhaler onto the floor, wrapping his arms around them. His cheek pressed against the top of their head and they could hear his heart race.
Riddle began to cry. Not the loud, wailing sobs like after his overblot, but quiet weeps of frustration and fear and anger. At himself, at Che’nya, at Trey for the party and for inviting Che’nya over.
“Don’t cry,” Che’nya said, though she didn’t sound far from crying either, “don’t cry.” She petted its hair with one hand and wiped its tears with the other. It grasped her shirt with both hands, sobbing into her chest.
They stayed like that, for longer than they’d ever be willing to admit, even after they stopped crying, until someone opened the door. Without knocking.
“Hey, Riddle, I lost my pen again, can I—Oh,” said Ace, who was raising an eyebrow at the two friends cuddling. He placed his hand on his chest dramatically and smirked.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a tone that was not very sorry at all, “I’ll leave you two alone now.” Riddle’s face turned bright red, and they scrambled off of Che’nya as Ace left the room and closed the door, laughing.
“ACE!” it shouted after him, “Ace, nothing was happening! Get back here!” It grabbed its inhaler off the ground and threw the door open, chasing after him.
Che’nya could hear Riddle’s shouts and Ace’s cackles disappearing down the hall, and chaos couldn’t help but notice just how empty chaos’ arms felt now.