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Riddle Rosehearts had dreamed of this day, of this beautiful night when the sky lit up with pulchritudinous, yellow-lit lanterns that shone as brightly as the sun design that was embedded within the finely crafted cloth. It had forever seemed so far out of reach of his hands, whose thin arms could never extend much further than outside of the window he gazed at, longingly, for the past seventeen years of his preserved and—by Ace’s standards—incarcerated life.
“Incarcerated life” seemed like a ridiculous accusation for the other boy to make, given he was hardly privy to the excellent status that his mother had accomplished over the years–even before Riddle’s birth and childhood. She was a renowned medical mage, and with her harsh rules came positive and fulfilling consequences. But despite his naturally defensive state for his mother, the disobedient boy now sat comfortably in a canoe that the two had grabbed after a long and exciting day within the palace. Children and people alike, enamored with his long and breathtaking crimson hair, had braided numerous flowers into his hair as he and Ace danced around in the town square. It was a beautiful, invigorating day.
Nothing like the watchtower walls he had been accustomed to all of his life.
Riddle was a foreigner to the experiences that he was now within the mist of—or, in fact—every single thing that the duo had gone through within the past few adventurous days. As his grey eyes descended upon the ginger haired boy in front of him, a fond twitch of a smile graced itself upon pale, perfect lips. As if he were crafted from the finest material; as if he were royalty himself.
His beauty, he reminisced on as his pale and slender fingers carded through his lustrously long red hair, that his mother always brought up. The smile that tugged on his lips seemed to falter. The boy’s eyelids drooped slightly at the gravity of the situation he had put himself into. And yet, Riddle still wouldn’t come to terms that musing on his home life deprived him of joy and of any freeing emotions.
Even if it were Ace Trappola that sat in front of him. His ruffian, impulsive, hard-headed and kind-hearted savior.
Ace harped on him persistently about his mother’s treatment of him, to which Riddle scoffed at, as if the younger boy had any idea as to what he was accusing her of. Perhaps she was a little overbearing and overprotective, but it was for his own good. His beauty was something that others would take advantage of. The world was far too cruel for him; his petite frame, so lithe in comparison to those around him. His healing crimson red hair was something that would be chased and sought after, and others wouldn't mind the harm that would be administered to Riddle if they were able to get their hands on his locks. “They wouldn’t care if you were killed!”, Mother often told him in a frightening tone, even over his child-sized bed as she told him mortifying bedtime stories. Saying that he was always “So fragile as a flower.” Flower. That’s what Mother had always called him, even in his young youth. When they would sit together, Mother brushing his hair out, asking him, “Do you understand, flower?”, to which Riddle would respond, “Yes, mommy”, before she’d teasingly point out his chubby cheeks. No, he wasn’t robbed of a pure childhood. He just had precautions that needed to be drilled into his naive head. Yet it was she who was in charge of everything, from what he ate to how he dressed. If there was something wrong or off putting about the young boy, then Mother was to be at fault. If he was too small, too desirable, too undesirable, he could only point a shaky, thin finger to the woman that was always climbing up the tower by his long, flowing hair.
His head shook at that, anxiously pursing his lips at the diabolical and intrusive thoughts that Ace filled his head with. No—Mother knows best! Ace doesn’t have any idea of the things she’s done and sacrificed for me. He’s the naive fool between us.
Yet, here he was directly disobeying her, out in the real world. The real world. Beyond stone-stacked tower walls. Beyond a lonely and secluded lifestyle, that he promised to himself was enough and was satisfactory. It had been his lifeline, and he had been thankful for it for all of these innocent years.
But how the outside world captivates him so.
Holding his long, flower-braided hair close to his chest, a sigh escaped his lips as he stared up upon the dark sky that reflected into curious, relaxed grey eyes. It was real. It existed, beyond the windows that he dreamily stared through. Beyond the hidden paintings that adorned tower walls, away from the prying and hateful eyes of Mother. As he swung from side to side in his home, his own carmine locks acting as a swing, supporting his short and lithe frame. It was the closest thing he had, and the closest thing he’d get in his lifetime to sightseeing the lanterns in person. Every year on his birthday. He frowned slightly so, in realization that his trip outside outshined the life he had praised for its safety. Because what life could he crave outside of his studies and overwatching from his mother, when she provided all necessary means for his survival? For the past seventeen years of his life?
The long-haired boy sighed, glowering slightly amidst his dreamy reality.
Ace must’ve gotten anxious, watching him get caught and swept away in deep thought about his home life and his mother. Riddle came off as quite adiaphane; always opaque in emotion. Ace never really understood what was going on in the stern boy’s head, and for a long time, didn’t even care to try. The orange haired boy favored grabbing some of the flowers that sat within the wooden boat the duo resided on. Some flowers that were woven into Riddle’s hair earlier had shuffled loose and gently cascaded downwards into the canoe. Ace thought of him akin to a princess, or rather, a prince instead. The way his gorgeous, gold-rimmed purple top sat so perfectly upon his chest, the way his matching and flowy white pants shaped his form conservatively and beautifully. Before Ace could be caught up further in the older boy’s beauty, he shuffled to distract himself and moved on from the thoughts that embarrassingly plagued his mind. Leaning down, he picked up a flower that had escaped the red locks of Riddle’s braided hair. Handing the navy blue flower to his companion, Riddle took it with a warm smile and took it within his slender hands, pressing it against the deep blue waters that reflected the magnificent castle that loomed above them. His grey eyes followed the drifting flower, until his eyes climbed up his surroundings and gazed longingly at the pristine, royal castle in the far distance of the two’s canoe.
Then, a singular light was released from the castle.
Riddle’s grey eyes immediately lit up, and he chaotically stood up and ran to the front of the boat—barefoot with just a jeweled anklet that clipped along his middle toe—and grasped at the protruding front wood to support himself as he gazed upward at the sky that slowly began to light up. This exchange of action caused the boat itself to tip over to the side slightly. Ace braced himself to be thrown into and drowned in lake water—to which, with a sigh of relief from the ginger, did not occur as the canoe slowly stabilized itself from the physical outburst that had rippled from Riddle. The usually put-together and stoic redhead did not even spare the other a glance, fully enamored with the one, flickering yellow light that illuminated itself in the dark night sky.
Before this, only the moon dusted the sky in light.
A plethora of lights were then released behind the initial lantern into the sky and all Riddle could do was sigh in awe, his eyes widening ever further as they fixated on the sight he had dreamed of, craved, ever since he was a little boy. That little boy that had snuck away from his study desk, tiptoeing as to not draw any attention to himself in his usual pale purple nightgown, dragging a wooden stool up against the window to stare out at the light festival that danced in front of his wandering eyes. All thoughts of Mother and studying ceasing in his mind for a few, blissful minutes as the lanterns soaked up his beating heart. He had always been a little jealous, in his hidden playtimes with Trey and Che’nya. They talked often about their families taking them to see the lanterns whenever his birthday began to come around again, in its annual August time—how sinful his mom had always thought of it. Thought of them, too.
As Riddle looked around the canoe and lake, more lanterns were released from surrounding sailing boats and from within the palace and town. The once dark sky was now illuminated in bright lantern lights. It felt similar to the yellow paint that Riddle was so accustomed to—more than the lantern lights he saw now. The way he dotted yellow against grey stone, bringing to life on once a dreary canvas. He breathed life into the watchtower’s walls, just as the lanterns were breathing life into the breathless sky above. The glowing perimeter of the lantern felt similar as to when his paint would drip downwards if he impulsively had applied the paint too wet, still self-teaching himself how to paint thoughtfully and secretively. The lights were now in the hundreds. Riddle was enthused.
Even the green hedgehog that had accompanied him for the entire journey seemed enamored with the festival’s celebration.
The long-haired redhead placed his head fancifully upon his thin hands that sat comfortably upon the small boat’s wood, a face usually stained red with anger and annoyance now of calmness and joy. It was an unconventional, awestrucking sight to behold.
Riddle heard shuffling behind him and curiously turned to face Ace, seeing the display of two lanterns sitting one in each of the ginger’s hands. The ginger must’ve grabbed some whilst Riddle wasn’t looking—his attention fixated on the light show above. The sun design shone brightly in both of their eyes. The younger boy leaned forward gently, an orange eyebrow raising ever so slightly at the endeavor he was bestowing. Riddle’s mouth went slightly ajar before he shut it again in an act of masking, maneuvering himself on the boat to walk towards the younger boy and sat—admittedly—excitedly, and with anticipation.
“I have something for you, too,” Riddle began, shifting his weight over to grasp at a brown satchel and sat it in his purple-clothed small lap. He had taken it away from Ace on the precedent that the younger boy would only receive it back if he held up his promise to take Riddle to see the lights, on the fateful day, and return him home within a timely manner so Mother would not suspect a single, devious thing of her obedient son. Riddle was a harper for blunt honesty and sincerity… If Ace promised something and did not oblige with procuring the outcome, then the redhead would refuse his belongings returning to him after such an offensive lie. “I should’ve given it to you before, but I was just… Scared.” He murmured, wincing at the emphasis he put on scared. Scared? Riddle Rosehearts, displaying such an emotion? He ought to be ashamed. Perhaps he felt disappointment in his heart if the promise could not be upheld, and his disobedient shuffle outside of stone walls would end up having lost its point and definition of bringing Riddle to these lights tonight. But expressing himself in front of Ace proved easier, day by day, with the time they spent so closely together. And yet…
“The thing is that I’m not scared anymore. Do you know what I mean?” Riddle questioned, staring into Ace’s crimson eyes with expectant, foreboding grey eyes. He’d be disgustingly embarrassed if the other did not reciprocate his emotions, leaving him alone in feeling uncertainty in his surroundings. Riddle began to lift up the satchel to press it towards Ace for him to take, trying to divert attention away from himself. Perhaps Ace would not stifle laughter at him for acting so uncharacteristic from his usual stuck-up persona. Because for Riddle… Suddenly things felt more normal. He didn’t have to bite back smiles and laughter, or be stressed about his historical magic and alchemy exams given to him by Mother. Ace introduced him into an entirely different world, filled with metaphorical and physical light to live for.
Ace simply placed a hand upon the satchel, setting it down into Riddle’s lap where he had begun to raise it to hand it to him. He knew very well that the satchel was his now, having served Riddle his promise of seeing the lights on his birthday. There was no need for anxiety, or to take it just yet from the other boy just yet—the other half of the promise was not yet fulfilled. “Take me back safely to the tower, and then you’ll get your bag back.” The words rang clear through Ace’s head. He’d exchange Riddle’s safety back at the watchtower for his satchel, then. “I’m starting to.” The ginger responded and stared back sympathetically with the softest expression he could procure. This was also a sight to behold—the usually snarky Ace finding such gentleness in his heart for the redhead that sat in front of him, jubilant as any person could be.
“All that time, never truly seeing things the way they were…” Ace said with more volume, red eyes darting to the side in self-consciousness with a growing flush, while Riddle’s grey eyes widened in a content expression. Both of them were thankful that the two of them were in sync with each other; two lost souls discovering their place in the world, away from outlaw obligations and a mother’s insistent arguments. Perhaps two souls destined to meet for this journey of disobedience and freedom and experience. Two souls destined to stay together, despite contradicting backstories? The long haired boy nodded in agreement and Ace sighed in relief.
As Riddle turned away and began widely smiling at the lanterns that blew close to their boat, thin fingers pointing towards them in awe, did Ace have embarrassing thoughts stray through his mind at the sight of the boy in front of him once more.
Now he’s here, shining in the starlight.
Now he’s here, and suddenly I know.
If he’s here, it’s crystal clear, I’m where I’m meant to go.
“And at last I get to see these lights.” Riddle murmured, turning back to Ace. Ace leaned forward and clasped the hands that sat royally in Riddle’s beautiful purple pants, causing Riddle’s back to shock upwards and stare at the ginger with widened, surprised eyes. Yet, he then smiled back at the ginger after assessing the physical contact indeed coming from just him. “It’s like the sky is new.”
A silence encompassed the two of them, a light weight of relaxation settling within the air between them.
Riddle and Ace, staring at each other with pleased and delighted expressions. It wasn’t before long that Ace grew fidgety with saying nothing to the pretty eyes that encompassed his entire being. Riddle frowned at the sudden discomfort.
“So—ahha, do you like them?” The other boy said with an anticipatory, yet happy smile. It was what Riddle had excitedly talked about behind restrained and hushed smiles. Ace hadn’t taken offense to it—Riddle’s upbringing seemed to play heavy on the suppression of emotion and ideals that initiated any sort of freedom. For the time they've spent together, he thought of the redhead’s growth as impressive when it came to speaking and honoring his wants and desires. But as for how his mother treated him, instilling that life of suppression and silencing passions… How limiting and lame, Ace continually thought as he shyly held Riddle’s own hands, fingers beginning to rub comforting circles along his pale and slender frame.
Riddle’s frown twitched back and forth, a war of masking on his pretty lips, until he could not hold back a smile. “Yes, The Seven, yes. It’s everything I could’ve wanted and more. Thank—Thank you, Ace.” He said with a confident tone despite his stuttering, his own fingers interlocking with the ginger’s. Ace blushed furiously as Riddle debated his own feelings surrounding the younger boy. Something unnaturally bubbly fizzed within his stomach. It was odd, unfamiliar, but invited and welcomed.
“Of course–! Really, everything is different, now that I see you.” The ginger said with a hardened flush, as if he couldn’t believe the words that came out of his mouth—Ace, a flirtatious tease? He had gone from a selfish outlaw to head over heels for the princely figure that sat in front of him. Deuce would find it surprising. Cater would bother him to no end about wooing the once Rose-Red Tyrant—the nickname he himself had given to that once angry and defensive boy he had encountered within the watchtower before having been knocked out and bound to a chair. Against his mind’s warning of Don’t go any further!, did Ace brush Riddle’s long braid away from his neck, brushing up against a few colorful flowers that were braided into his hair. He clasped his pale cheek, and Riddle’s characteristically red face when angry only became red in surprise and embarrassment.
“Now that I see you…” Riddle Rosehearts murmured in mirror, musing over the impulsive thoughts of Ace Trappola.
The two stared vividly into each other’s eyes, the air around them lightening; like the abiotic element itself was expectant for what was to happen next for the duo. The green hedgehog that sat with them in the canoe gave a whimpering chirp, as if it too could sense a romantic gesture occurring between the princess-like figure and the outlaw. The small creature turned in a circle to face the other way, embarrassed to view such a scene unfolding in front of it. Ace gulped as he watched Riddle’s pale eyelids droop to a close, his pretty pink lips ever so slightly breaking apart like a fissure within the earth. It was a beautiful sight… And all for him to observe. He squeezed his eyes shut to mirror Riddle’s gracious movements, leaning inwards with half-hearted and awkward precision, his own lips becoming agape as he was curious for his own to meet the mouth of the boy he had developed a dangerous crush on over the past hours spent together.
The two would sooner than later find themselves in a heap of trouble, for chasing a freedom they wished to clasp to their hearts.