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“He’s totes intense,” Cater whispered to Trey.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have roused him,” Trey replied. “It’s probably nothing.”
“I hope you realize that I can hear you both,” Riddle said, sweeping the light from his pen in another arc in front of him as they descended the stairs. “And you most certainly should have alerted me. As housewarden, I am responsible for the well-being of the students in this dorm.”
He stopped on the next step and glanced over his shoulder.
“And Cater, it behooves me to be intense when it comes to a potential intruder. Even if said intruder has been thwarted by the roses.”
“It might've been a dream,” Trey suggested.
“Cater heard it, too. Are you suggesting a shared dream?”
“No, no, nothing like that!” Trey said hurriedly.
“It could've been the staircases shifting,” Cater offered.
“I’ve never heard the hallways rearrange themselves,” Riddle said thoughtfully. “But I suppose it is possible.”
Trey let out a sigh of relief, and Riddle couldn’t blame him. He was sure they’d all had more than enough of seeing one another’s dreams.
“If that’s the case,” Trey said, “then we should all head back upstairs while we’re still familiar with the layout.”
“CayCay’s with TreyTrey. Gotta catch those Zs while we still can!”
“Nonsense,” Riddle said. “We are already up and about. What if there is something afoot, and we turned a blind eye to it? You two may return upstairs if you wish, but I will not rest until I have assured myself that nothing is amiss.”
He looked over his shoulder. “I know that my card soldiers aren’t afraid of a bump in the night.”
“Several bumps,” Trey murmured to Cater.
“We’ve faced much more intimidating threats, and we don’t even know that this is a threat. It could be a hedgehog! What if one is loose in the kitchen?”
“The kitchen?” The dismay in Trey’s voice was obvious. “We should head there first.”
When Trey rushed past the other two, headed straight for the dorm’s kitchen, Cater shook his head.
“Do you really think it’s a hedgehog, Riddle? Or did you just leverage Trey’s concern over the sanctity of his domain against him?”
“I certainly hope it’s not a hedgehog. We’ve had more than enough instances of them getting loose this year. Perhaps you should check on Trey. Even if the ‘sanctity of his domain’ is maintained, he could use a drink of water.”
Cater studied Riddle’s face. “And where will you be?”
“In the rose garden, of course.”
“Of course. We’ll meet you there.”
“Cater.” When Cater stopped and turned around, Riddle said, “I truly did not mean to manipulate Trey by mentioning the kitchen. I was just musing aloud.”
“I know,” Cater said. “Trey’s just been really fussy about it ever since. You know.”
Riddle swallowed. “I know.”
He watched Cater until he was swallowed up by the darkness in the hall, and then he rubbed his free hand over his face. The dreams that Malleus had conjured up had left an impression on all of them, but Riddle’s had been laid bare for everyone to see. He couldn’t imagine his life without magic in it. Assuming his overblot form in the dream, without risk of losing control, that had been a rush like Riddle had never known. It was a shame that he couldn’t do the same outside the confines of Malleus’ dream realm, but even so, he was more than capable of facing an intruder on his own.
Especially one that would either be hopelessly lost in the rose garden, or who was caught in the thorny vines of the rosebushes.
He paused at the entrance of the rose maze to change to his dorm uniform, and then he called out, “who goes there?”
“Heeeey, Goldfishie!” he heard from somewhere above him.
Riddle had not expected to find Floyd Leech—wearing the most garish sweatpants Riddle had ever seen, a dark hoodie, and a single slipper—entangled in one of the rose bushes.
Of course, he couldn’t say that he was surprised, either.
“What are you doing here, Floyd?”
Floyd attempted to shrug, but his movement was restricted by the enchanted plant. “Couldn’t sleep,” he said.
“And you thought to invade another dorm instead of having a cup of warm milk?”
“Warm milk?” Floyd’s lip curled. “Is that a land thing?”
“Floyd.”
“Goldfishie.”
Against his better judgement, Riddle motioned for the roses to lower Floyd to the ground and then retreat.
“Where’s your broom?”
“What broom?”
“You got all the way up there by climbing?”
“Yup! I’m pretty good at parkour. I even got to class that way when I was running late, but Professor Beakfish was kinda pissed off.”
It was a rather impressive feat, but Riddle would not say that out loud. Not that Floyd needed any encouragement for any of his reckless, impulsive actions, but that wasn’t the issue.
“If you were so interested in a nighttime stroll—”
“Parkour.”
“—nighttime parkour, I’m sure the school grounds are full of things to climb and to launch yourself from.”
“Can I tell you a secret?”
Riddle narrowed his eyes at Floyd, but he nodded.
“I came to Heartslabyul because I wanted to see you, Goldfishie. And it worked, ‘cuz here you are!”
Riddle pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
“Headache?” Floyd asked. “I can massage your head for you, if you want.” He wiggled his fingers for emphasis.
“Floyd,” Riddle said. “You cannot leave your dorm in the middle of the night and you most certainly cannot simply stroll into another dormitory, on a whim!”
Floyd frowned. “Wanting to see you isn’t a whim, Goldfishie. I always want to see you. Well, most of the time,” he said.
“Lucky me,” Riddle muttered under his breath, but of course, Floyd heard him.
“Luck ain’t got nothing to do with it. You’re just fun to be around. And do you sleep in your dorm uniform? That can’t be comfortable.”
Riddle was still processing the idea that anyone considering spending time with him ‘fun,’ outside of his dream, when he heard Trey and Cater approaching.
“Hey, Rids,” Cater called out. “Look what we found—oh, that explains it.”
He was holding a slipper, the mate to the one on Floyd’s right foot. It was one more reason why Floyd’s actions were so foolhardy. He should at least have worn something that covered his entire foot, something that would have provided more traction! He was here and relatively unharmed, save for a single scratch across his cheek, but that wasn’t the point!
“As you can see, Trey,” Riddle said, taking the slipper from Cater and gesturing toward Floyd with it. “It wasn’t a dream.”
“Or a hedgehog in the kitchen,” Cater said. “So, uh, since you have this sitch under control, Trey and I will just head back to bed.”
He gave Trey a pointed look, and Trey looked at Floyd, then Riddle, and slowly nodded. “Yeah, uh, we’ll head back to our rooms.”
“Love the pajamas!” Floyd yelled after them. Cater waved his phone in the air in acknowledgement, and that’s when Riddle realized that Cater had forsaken an opportunity to take a photo of their intruder.
Hashtag…whatever he might have thought of. Mighty Roses or something like that.
Floyd snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Hey, Goldfishie, can I have my slipper back?”
Riddle dropped the slipper and nudged it toward Floyd with the toe of his boot, and Floyd slipped his foot into it with ease.
“You’re bleeding,” Riddle said. He summoned a handkerchief and dabbed at the scratch on Floyd’s face.
“Small price to pay to have you this close.”
Riddle could feel Floyd’s breath on his face, and he swallowed.
“You’re speaking nonsense.”
“Not nonsense. I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you a lot lately. I mean, more than usual. Ever since your dream.”
Riddle stopped dabbing at the blood, but before he could pull his hand back, Floyd caught his wrist.
“You saw that?”
“You were kinda busy with Firefly Squid. We had nothin’ better to do.” Floyd licked his lips. “And I really wanted to know what Goldfishie’s dream looked like.”
“Just because you took a look into my… that is, whatever Malleus created for me… that doesn’t give you a right to wander into Heartslabyul any time the urge strikes you!”
“I didn’t,” Floyd insisted. “I’ve wanted to lotsa times since then. Even before then. It’s just that I couldn’t sleep tonight, and I was thinking about you, and how you never invited me over even though you have Shrimpie and Sealie over, and they’re not in this dorm. And I just…”
Floyd looked Riddle up and down. “Can I see what you wear when you sleep?”
“Why?”
Floyd gestured to himself with his free hand. “You’ve seen what I wear. Seems fair.”
There were a number of things wrong with Floyd’s reasoning, but it was the middle of the night, and Riddle didn’t feel like enumerating them. Getting into an argument was not going to encourage Floyd to leave.
Probably.
It had worked before, but Riddle had felt terrible about it.
“Release me first.”
Floyd let go of Riddle’s wrist, and Riddle changed back into the pajamas he’d been wearing earlier. He held his breath, waiting for Floyd to say something, to make Riddle regret giving in, but Floyd nodded his head.
“Looks good on you. I like seeing you in something comfortable for a change.”
“Oh.”
Floyd licked his lips again. “Goldfishie…”
Before Riddle could remind Floyd to stop calling him that ridiculous nickname, Floyd leaned in and pressed his lips against Riddle’s. It was a quick, perfunctory meeting of mouths, and then it was over. Riddle pressed his fingers to his lips, incredulous at what just happened.
“I should probably apologize for that,” Floyd said. “It’s not why I came here. I mean, sure, I kinda thought, in my dreams, that one day it would happen, but that doesn’t mean I should have done it. I’d say sorry, but I’m not sorry. Not really. And—”
Riddle pressed his fingers against Floyd’s lips, cutting off his words.
“Yes,” he said. “You should apologize. For the kiss, for trying to break into our dorm, and that’s just tonight.” He took a deep breath. “But, for what it’s worth…I didn’t hate it.”
Floyd’s eyes lit up. Beneath Riddle’s fingers, his lips curved into what was normally an annoying grin, but this time was just a…
…rather nice smile, if Riddle was continuing to be honest.
He lowered his arm.
“Walk with me,” he said, marching toward one of the benches in the rose garden.
Floyd followed, and when Riddle sat, Floyd did the same.
“Thought you were gonna kick me out. Send me sailing over the hedges like you did the day we met.”
“I should.”
“But you’re not.”
They sat in silence for a few moments, and then Floyd asked, “so what’s up with Sea Turtle and Sea Bream? They got something going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s obviously something. And where would you even get an idea like that?”
“Jade.”
Jade. Of course.
“Not that I care all that much,” Floyd continued. “Just wanted to know if Jade was right.”
“Why?”
Floyd turned sideways on the bench and cupped Riddle’s cheek. “Cuz if he’s right about them, then he’s probably right about other things.”
“Oh.”
This time, when Floyd leaned in, he did so slowly, allowing Riddle time to push him away, or to slide on the bench to escape. He did neither of those things. This time, his fingers gripped the front of Floyd’s hoodie, pulling him closer.
When Floyd’s lips touched his, Riddle could feel the smile, and then, his eyes fluttered closed as Floyd’s fingers slid into his hair. This time, the kiss was wet, and messy, and Floyd’s tongue was taking liberties that Riddle had never dreamed of, but..
…Riddle liked it.
He liked it so much, he practically climbed into Floyd’s lap, releasing the front of his shirt to grip his shoulders instead.
“You should go,” Riddle said, gasping for breath between kisses.
Floyd made a grumble of disagreement in his throat, and Riddle couldn’t blame him. He knew that Floyd should leave, but he didn’t want him to.
“Floyd,” Riddle moaned when their lips parted, a string of saliva separating them. Floyd licked a long stripe up the side of Riddle’s neck, and Riddle’s insides fluttered. It was a rush of excitement and nerves, like being on a roller coaster.
Riddle was also hard. His erection had sprung up suddenly, without warning, and this was unacceptable! He’d let things go too far, for too long. He shoved Floyd away from him and got to his feet, only to have Floyd move behind him and place his hands on Riddle’s shoulders.
He didn’t spin Riddle around, didn’t press the advantage his ridiculous height gave him.
“It’s fine, Goldfishie. I’ve got one of those, too.”
Riddle covered his face with his hands.
“Not just now,” Floyd continued. “But like. When I wake up sometimes. Not just morning wood, like they told us about in land boot camp. I mean like when I woke up tonight, after dreaming about you.”
His thumbs moved back and forth against Riddle’s shoulders, and Riddle’s next breath shuddered.
“Ya know, Goldfishie, if you think you’d maybe like to kiss me again, I’d like that a lot. Doesn’t have to be now. But I really like kissing you.”
Riddle turned and pressed his face against Floyd’s chest.
“Hold me,” he demanded, and Floyd obeyed instantly, wrapping his arms around Riddle and doing nothing else.
“You know,” Floyd said after a while. “I really like hugging you, too.”
Maybe it was because Riddle’s parents had never been overly affectionate. Maybe it was because Floyd had a habit of touching, poking, and petting Riddle nearly every chance he got. Maybe it was because Riddle felt warm in Floyd’s embrace, despite the fact that his fingers were so often cold when they poked Riddle’s cheeks or ruffled Riddle’s hair.
He felt warm and safe.
“Can we do this again sometime?” Floyd asked.
Riddle nodded against Floyd’s chest, and Floyd lifted one arm, sliding the other down to Riddle’s lower back. When he tipped Riddle’s chin up, he brushed his lips lightly against Riddle’s again.
“Gonna be really hard going back to sleep after this,” he said. “No pun intended.”
Riddle gave Floyd’s chest an ineffectual punch.
“Yes,” Riddle admitted.
Floyd grinned. “Glad I won’t be the only one lying there, starin’ at the ceiling, thinking about when I can kiss you again. Touch you again.”
“Now would be a good time.”
Floyd cupped Riddle’s face with both hands and kissed him with enthusiasm. Riddle returned it eagerly. It was addictive, kissing Floyd.
This was insanity. That he was kissing Floyd. That he was doing so in the rose garden. That he was considering when they could safely do it again, away from prying eyes, where they could do more than just kiss, whatever more might entail.
When the kiss ended, they both pulled back slowly. Floyd wiped the saliva from Riddle’s chin with his thumb, and then he stuck his thumb in his mouth. It should have been disgusting, but there was something oddly endearing about it.
“I know,” Floyd sighed. “I’m leaving.”
Riddle walked him to the mirror, and when Floyd kissed him again, it was a soft, slow kiss, one full of yearning. Riddle couldn’t help shivering; not because he was cold, but because he was equal parts excited and afraid.
Afraid that Floyd was a distraction he could not afford. Afraid that Floyd would grow bored of him. Afraid that his erection wasn’t going to go down any time soon, and that he would return to the dorm with a visible tent in his pajama pants.
“Me too,” Floyd said, and then he unzipped his hoodie and draped it over Riddle’s shoulders. That left him in nothing more than a plain white tank top, one that left his arms and collarbone bare. Riddle’s fingers itched to trace the outline of Floyd’s clavicle, and it seemed that Floyd noticed the direction of Riddle’s gaze.
“Next time,” he said, lifting Riddle’s chin again.
This time, he dropped a kiss on the end of Riddle’s nose, and then he ruffled Riddle’s hair, as if he were a dog!
“Floyd!”
Floyd grinned at him, and then, he had the nerve to blow Riddle a kiss as he stepped—backwards—through the mirror.
It was as if the events of the last fifteen (thirty? Thirty-five?) minutes had been a dream, but Riddle was still embarrassingly hard, with the memory of Floyd’s lips on his, his tongue in Riddle’s mouth, remaining.
He slid his arms through the sleeves of Floyd’s hoodie. The arms were, naturally, much too long for Riddle. He wrapped the hoodie around him and inhaled, taking in Floyd’s scent. It made him ache.
When he stepped through the mirror, he wasn’t entirely surprised to see Floyd leaning against the wall, next to the Octavinelle mirror, as if he’d been waiting.
“Miss me, Goldfishie?”
Riddle made a tsk sound. “I was just ensuring that you were on your way back to your dorm.”
“You look good in my clothes,” Floyd said.
Riddle had tried pushing the sleeves up to his elbow, but with his own pajama and robe sleeves, he’d been unsuccessful, so Riddle’s hands were just barely visible. Floyd found Riddle’s fingers anyway, entwining them with his own.
“You do. You look really good,” Floyd insisted. “Ah, there are so many things I want to do to Goldfishie that I don’t even know yet.”
Riddle thought he understood what Floyd meant; he felt much the same. But that left one question.
“What are we, Floyd? To each other?”
“What do you want us to be?”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I don’t know,” Floyd said. “I just want you to be mine.”
It should have angered Riddle, the nonchalant way Floyd had said that. It sounded like Riddle was nothing more than a toy for Floyd to play with, and then discard later, when the mood struck him. But there was something in the way Floyd was looking at him, gripping his fingers almost desperately, that suggested he meant something more.
“Only if you are mine as well. For now,” Riddle added quickly.
Floyd grinned. “For as long as you want me.”
Riddle nodded. The year was almost over, but they were still sophomores. They had their junior year on campus, and then they’d go their separate way when they began their internships. That was still over a year away, though. Right now, the thought of being Floyd’s…of Floyd being his.. was oddly reassuring.
Grounding.
Which was ridiculous, because this was Floyd, who thrived on chaos. Who hated rules and structure and… and…
Who had managed to turn Riddle’s knees to jelly with his kisses.
“Fine,” Riddle said. “But I expect you to be at class tomorrow. On time.”
“Okay.”
That was a little too agreeable.
“Without using parkour!”
“Party pooper,” Floyd said, but he was grinning again.
Riddle gave him a satisfied smile and then turned back to the Heartslabyul mirror.
“Riddle.”
Riddle froze. That couldn’t have been Floyd. It was probably Jade, right? Jade had caught them…not doing anything embarrassing, but…
He turned to see that it was only Floyd in his brightly colored sweatpants and glaringly white top.
“Just trying it out,” Floyd said. “You like?”
“I—”
Riddle did like, but also, it felt strange to hear his name from Floyd’s lips. His real name, not that ridiculous nickname.
“Don’t worry; you’ll always be my Goldfishie.”
“Your reassurance is greatly appreciated.”
Floyd laughed. “This is why I love you.”
Riddle froze, and then, Floyd realized what he’d just said.
“You don’t have to love me back,” he said hurriedly. “That just slipped out. Wasn’t even sure about it until just now.”
What could Riddle possibly say to that?
Floyd’s forehead furrowed. “Still want me to be yours, now that you know?”
Riddle nodded slowly, and Floyd returned the nod.
“See you tomorrow, Goldfishie.”
Riddle nodded again, unable to speak.
That is, not until Floyd started to step through the mirror.
“Floyd!”
Floyd stopped and turned around.
“I can’t promise you anything. What if I…”
“Break my heart?”
Riddle nodded.
“Be mine, Riddle. That’s all I want right now.”
The sound of his name again, said in Floyd’s rough and gravelly voice, the voice he so rarely used, sent more shivers down Riddle's spine.
Unprompted, Floyd pulled Riddle into another embrace, one that Riddle didn’t realize he’d so desperately needed until he felt Floyd’s arms fold around him.
“You looked cold,” Floyd explained. “And I only have the one hoodie.”
“You can have it back.”
“Nah. Keep it for now. Like I said. It looks good on you, and I can always come back for it tomorrow. Gives me a reason to show up, right?”
The idea of Floyd just showing up, seeking entrance in order to retrieve an article of clothing from Riddle’s room—that would certainly cause some tongues to wag.
But then, being the source of rumors that were unrelated to Riddle’s overblot might be a nice change.
“Do not show up unannounced,” Riddle warned. “Wait for an invitation.”
“You gonna invite me, Goldfishie?”
Of course, Riddle was going to invite him. He was the one with his own room, after all, and that would be the safest place for additional kisses. Kisses and whatever else might take place.
“Kiss me,” Riddle said. “Remind me why we’re doing this.”
“And here I thought it was my sparkling personality,” Floyd complained, but he kissed Riddle anyway.
“Mine,” Riddle mumbled against Floyd’s lips. He could feel Floyd’s arms tighten around him as his tongue plundered Riddle’s mouth once more.
“Yours,” Floyd growled into his mouth.
There was something immensely satisfying about that.
“We need to go back to bed. Our own beds,” he added hastily.
Floyd gave an exaggerated pout as he reached for Riddle’s right hand, lost once again in the right sleeve. He lifted Riddle’s hand and brushed his lips against Riddle’s bare knuckles. It seemed more intimate than kissing Riddle on the mouth had.
“Mine,” Floyd said gruffly.
“Yours,” Riddle agreed.
“If this turns out to be a dream, I’m gonna be so pissed when I wake up.”
“Go back to Octavinelle, Floyd.”
“So bossy,” Floyd complained, but then, with a wink, he added, “but I’m into that, for future reference.”
Riddle could feel his entire body flush with warmth, and then, he and Floyd stepped through their respective mirrors at the same time.
“We wondered where you’d gone,” Cater said, once Riddle was back in the Heartslabyul lounge.
Riddle looked around frantically. “Where’s Trey?”
“Sleeping. He was a little worried at first, but he’s like you. Has a pretty rigid sleep schedule, so it’s easier for him to fall back asleep. I promised I’d wait up for our cute underclassman.”
Riddle frowned. “You didn’t need to do that.”
“I know. Nice hoodie, by the way.” He lifted his phone. “What do you say to a selfie?”
“Cater, I will have your head—”
Cater held up both hands. “Just kidding! I just. I guess I’m happy for you. If you’re happy?”
Riddle nodded.
“So. Want a couple of cookies before we go to bed? There’s no rule against cookies after midnight, is there?”
So it was officially the next day. In the morning, their stomachs might protest the late-night snack, but there was no rule against midnight cookies. Furthermore, if Riddle got Cater on his side regarding the whole Floyd Thing (and maybe, possibly, got Cater to share a bit more regarding the whole Trey Thing), that would smooth things over when Floyd arrived at Heartslabyul with a proper invitation. As an added bonus, if the cookies were ones that Trey had made to calm himself, then they would be cooling, still warm and soft. Like Floyd’s kisses, but sweeter.
At this very moment, there was nothing Riddle wanted more…
…but for now, he’d settle for the cookies.