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Riddle plucked Trey’s ticket from his hand, aligned it with his own, and slotted the pair into the box, upon which the white gates opened and granted them access. Both of them paused there for a few seconds, staring stunned up at the Ferris wheel, bright pink and covered in embarrassingly gaudy hearts, before Riddle forced his legs to move. Trey overtook him and climbed the steps, getting one foot into the gondola and offering a hand back to help him while it swayed to and fro. As they sat down and got comfortable side-by-side, hands still clutched tight on their thighs, the door shut behind him, and the wheel began to move without even bothering to pick up any other passengers.
Not that there would be any, since it was all just a dream.
Riddle had gotten rather good at identifying when he was dreaming, ever since Malleus trapped the school within their own unending dreams weeks ago. It became a necessary skill in order to ensure a good night’s sleep. Usually everything went a little too well, or a little too poorly when it came to nightmares, in their own unique, unrealistic ways, rarely ever mundane. Whenever those mundane dreams did happen, there was always something extremely out of place and strange involved somewhere to act as a counterbalance. Maybe the doorknobs started talking when they weren't enchanted before. A crying baby in the background would turn into a pig when he blinked. Things like that.
It was how he knew he was dreaming now, taking in the interior of the gondola, just as heart-stuffed as the outside. “This feels a little on the nose, if you ask me.”
“Tell me about it,” Trey chuckled.
“I’m surprised you picked this. I never took you for someone who would be swayed by this sort of thing. Not that I’m judging your tastes, mind.”
Trey turned to face him, eyes wide, as if he’d grown a second head. “Woah, hey, I didn’t pick this.”
“Did you not?” Riddle tilted his head. “We agreed last time that it was your turn.”
There was a pause as Trey thought about it, then his eyebrows drew together, and his free hand rose to rub the back of his neck. “Mm, right, I remember that. Guess I did pick this, then,” he mumbled. “Wow. That’s embarrassing. We can transport ourselves somewhere else if you’d prefer?”
“No no, I’m content with this. If you are as well, that is…” his eyes slid back to the big, red heart dangling from the ceiling. It rocked alongside the slow swing of the gondola, almost like a taunt.
“If you’re fine, then I’m fine.” His eyes followed Riddle’s. “Even with the…unique decor.”
This was the third time they’d been on a date, if Riddle had counted correctly. Thinking of a dream inside a dream was always rather difficult, the lines often blurring and becoming altered if he strayed too far from one train of thought in search of details, but that much he was certain of. The notion made the Ferris wheel stick out even more; perhaps he’d been influenced by an article he’d read somewhere, or some part of his subconscious mind was just utterly convinced that Trey would escort him to a ride that could not be more tailor-made for luring in young couples if it had come with a flashing neon sign on only their third date.
He may as well make the most of it.
Resting his head on Trey’s shoulder, he gazed out the window at the scenery. The sun had begun to set, or maybe it was at the tail end of rising, casting the sky in shades of orange and pink and purple. Below them, sprawling out into the distance, was a city of sorts, not defined enough to be able to pick out as any one location and changing whenever his gaze flickered elsewhere. Admittedly it was a little frustrating; the point of a Ferris wheel was to enjoy the view from up high, and while it was rather pretty, it also lacked the substance that would come with being in a real place, with a real partner.
He sighed a little, rubbing his thumb against Trey’s hand. It didn’t really matter, in the end. He could get a bird’s-eye view of any city some other time, or he would be able to once he’d gotten his license to fly in the real world. This was his dream, he could do as he pleased, yearn without restraint, and his wishes would come true more likely than not. He could lean his head in a fraction, and Trey would plant a kiss between the part of his hair. He could press his side close, and if their hands weren’t interlocked Trey would reach an arm around his back to hold him. He could crane up, and Trey would meet him with a peck on the lips. Every little subtle request, Trey would fulfill without fail.
Their gondola hit the peak of the Ferris wheel.
“This isn’t so bad,” Trey murmured into the quiet. “I was kind of nervous about riding one of these again.”
Riddle turned to observe him instead of the scenery, realizing that the hold on his hand had slackened somewhat, now a comfortable, relaxed cradling rather than a firm grip. “Did something happen on a Ferris wheel previously?”
The grimace he received was telling, even before he said, “Well, it was at that one theme park, so…”
“Ah.” Playful Land. Right, he remembered those two days with terrible clarity. When the three of them had disobeyed his orders and came back early the next morning, battered and exhausted, tails between their legs. “I still can't believe you had the gall to accompany them.”
“I went to make sure they didn't get hurt! We would've left if it wasn't for that guy's spell.”
The gondola bumped and rattled, and Riddle scowled, then dismissed the thought. It was supposed to be a nice dream, not one where he dwelled on past convictions. As soon as he had wrested control of his lingering annoyance the ride smoothed back out again. Much better. “What’s done is done,” he eventually responded. “If what you’ve experienced is still plaguing you, then we’ll simply have to fix that.”
Relieved that the topic was shifting away from his crimes, Trey’s brows rose, curious, “Are you suggesting another date at an amusement park?”
“Perhaps. Exposure is considered a form of treatment for fears and traumas. Of course, as a date we wouldn’t be engaging in any activities deemed too uncomfortable to handle.”
“Should we count that as your next pick, then?”
He smiled. “If it comes to fruition, then I think that’s fair.”
“If we do, can we avoid the big coasters? I, um, don’t do great on those.”
“Oh dear. I’ll have to keep that in mind for the future.”
Chuckling, Trey leaned over when Riddle tilted his head, and pressed a kiss to his hair. “Appreciate it.”
Silence fell like the warmest of blankets, and with it, Riddle noted, went their gondola, slowly descending back down towards the ground. The one downside to it all was always how short the dreams were. No matter how much he fought for more, they always ended rather quickly, just fleeing pockets of happiness granted after a stressful day. But perhaps that was a blessing in disguise; the longer they lasted, the more agony he would’ve been in upon waking, the heavier the shame weighing on his shoulders for indulging. Even a full, slow ride on a Ferris wheel would’ve been too much. One rotation was all he should be allowed.
With what little time he had left, he breathed deep, taking in the faint scents of baking bread and mint that always seemed to cling to Trey, even in the waking world. His chest ached with it, and so he released some of the pressure while he knew it would be safe to do so. “It'd be wonderful to go in the real world. As a date.”
Trey didn’t answer. Immediately the silence shifted from comfortable to something entirely different. Charged. His breathing staggered briefly, then became slow and deep and steady, like he was actively trying to control it. “Maybe…maybe we can.” He turned to look Riddle in the eye. “Maybe it doesn't have to just be a dream.”
The notion was ridiculous, and made his heart sway like the one latched to the ceiling, and so Riddle laughed, shaking his head. “I doubt the real Trey would be so willing.”
He watched Trey's expression tighten, looking like he'd just swallowed a bee. His throat bobbed with the force of his gulp. “Riddle. That's not…”
When he didn't continue, Riddle waved him off, still smiling. “No need to try and reassure. I know it's not the case, and it would be the height of foolishness to get my hopes up.” Shutting his eyes, he set his head against Trey's shoulder again. “This dream will suffice, as shameful as it is—”
Trey's hand grabbed his chin, forced his head to turn, and then he was being kissed, firm and needy and with all the longing in the world. Riddle immediately collapsed into it, pretending, just for a moment, that it could all be real. It certainly felt as such.
The ride jolted, swaying, signalling the end of their date and subsequently the end of his dream.
Just as suddenly as he'd kissed him, Trey gripped his shoulders and pulled back to look him in the eye. “Listen to me,” he started, deathly afraid, deathly serious. “Tomorrow—or today I guess, once you're awake—at lunch, go to the tea garden.” Something flickered in his eyes, and his mouth knotted up as if he'd wanted to say more but held it back. After a brief, visible internal war, he squeezed Riddle’s shoulders and the intensity in his gaze doubled, solidifying. “Promise me.”
The world began to grey at the edges as the dream faded around him, but he broke out of his surprise long enough to answer. “I promise.”
Entertaining dreams was an utterly ridiculous concept. He had duties to fulfill, there wasn’t the time to go gallivanting around the school just because the hallucinations in his head told him to. But Trey's gaze flashed into his mind, serious, pleading, and he caved. It couldn't hurt to check on the animals while he was back at Heartslabyul, anyway.
Riddle opened the gate and passed between the hedges, expecting to find the place empty. Instead he found golden eyes waiting for him, as scared and determined as they’d been in those last few seconds of his dream, and a pair of tickets sitting on the table beside him.