Chapter Text
I. Prologue
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The lights were dim, soft amber spilling across the small, smoky venue. A low murmur of conversation floated through the air, a wave of quiet anticipation rolling with it. Riddle Rosehearts sat at a corner table, hands folded around a glass untouched for minutes. The world outside the stage felt sharp, precise, alive—but inside him, there was a hollow stillness, a quiet ache that he had long learned to carry alone.
Then the music began. A gentle piano riff, a smooth bass line threading its way through the room. And there, in the center of it all, he froze.
Floyd Leech.
Not a shadow of the boy he had known, not the teasing presence that had once slipped so easily through his days. But here he was, standing under the warm glow of the stage lights, alive, certain, unmistakable.
Floyd grinned at the audience, leaning into the microphone with a playful tilt of his head.
"Alright, alright, don’t mind me, I’m just in a good mood tonight. So, this one’s a special, for all of you~. And maybe, just maybe, to make up for what my I did to my brother's terrarium last week—don’t ask."
He chuckled, shrugged, then launched into a soft, soulful riff, his fingers dancing over the keys and strings, filling the room with a music that felt both intimate and vast.
Riddle’s chest tightened. Time seemed to condense into one moment, fragile and sharp. Every memory surfaced. The quiet jokes, the late nights, the arguments, the whispered encouragements, the goodbyes he had never fully heard. They played back in his mind like an old film reel, impossible to pause or stop.
And in that moment, he knew.
They had both dreamed. Just not at the same time.
The music swelled, applause rising around him. Riddle clapped, careful, restrained, a mask of composure over the storm within. And beneath it all, an unspoken truth settled, quiet but unshakable.
Here’s to the fool who dreams.