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Riddle's mother was calling him again.
The phone buzzed sharply against their wooden table in the library, vibrating with all the severity of a time bomb. Azul looked up from where he sat across from Riddle, pausing mid-note to see Riddle staring at the phone wearily. Of course, Azul hadn't seen the caller ID on the phone, but he knew who it was nonetheless. All of Riddle's usual signs were there: the quick hitch in his breathing when he glanced at his phone, the sudden tightness in his shoulders. The way his pleasant expression had faded and his face was left devoid of any real expression but mild dread.
Azul recognized it all too well, so he was entirely unsurprised when Riddle turned to him with an apologetic expression.
"I'll be right back," he said, his voice brittle. Azul nodded quickly, shooting him what he hoped was a supportive smile and not the scowl he felt like donning at the thought of Riddle's mother.
Riddle got up from his seat, walking to a far corner of the library to cast a quick silencing spell. Azul watched him walk away, waiting until the other boy rounded the corner before letting his smile wane.
Since he had started dating Riddle, Azul had managed to piece together parts of his relationship with his mother. Riddle never liked to talk about it, so Azul had had to rely on throwaway statements and his own observations from the past year if he wanted to draw any conclusions.
He had known already that Riddle's mother was overbearing—it seemed the entire school knew that much, especially after his overblot last semester. But Azul hadn't realized quite how controlling she was until the first time she had called Riddle in front of him, about a week into their relationship. Azul had watched as Riddle's entire body tensed up subconsciously, his pupils contracting as he stared down at the device.
Later, when Azul asked, Riddle said that she called him every evening to receive a full report of what he had accomplished during the day, like he was a soldier on active duty. Azul had wondered at the time why he felt the need to drop everything to answer her calls, why he couldn't just call her back later.
Riddle had shot him an incredulous look. "And have her summon me right back home?" he had asked. "No, one of her rules is that I must pick up the phone when she calls. No exception."
Azul had scoffed in disbelief. "And if you're in the shower, or something of the sort?" he pressed, not expecting Riddle to actually have an answer. Perhaps he should have known better.
"She calls me precisely at 7:00pm. That's when her shift at the hospital ends, and she always expects me to be ready for her call then," Riddle replied calmly, as though that was perfectly rational. Azul blinked, grappling with the realization that Riddle really did believe in its rationality.
"Right," Azul had responded slowly, letting the subject drop for the moment.
A week after that, during one of their evening study sessions in Azul's VIP room, Riddle had hung up the phone looking far more withdrawn than before. When he came back to set next to Azul, his face kept shifting imperceptibly, like maintaining a normal expression was a struggle. His posture had also changed, making him look like he was trying not to crumple in on himself.
Azul had asked him—begged him, almost—to tell him what was wrong. But Riddle let nothing slip, just repeating that he had to keep studying, that he wasn't doing enough. That he wasn't enough. It had broken Azul's heart, a bit. Eventually, Azul had been able to convince him not to get back to studying immediately. It wouldn't be effective to study under emotional duress, he had reasoned. By the end of it, Azul wasn't sure that Riddle quite agreed with him, but at least he stopped fighting Azul on the matter.
Instead, he had just let Azul hold him until his breathing steadied.
It became a routine after that. Every time Azul and Riddle were alone when his mother called, Azul would try his best to calm Riddle down afterward if he needed it. He would pepper his face with soft kisses, across his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his jawline. And in his arms, Riddle would slowly release tension until his heart slowed and he felt more stable.
If Azul was being entirely honest, he treasured these rare glimpses of vulnerability that Riddle exposed to him. He despised the circumstances, naturally, but there was something so precious in the way he would wrap his arms around Riddle, folding him into his chest. It was tender, innocent, lovely.
Recently, however, Riddle's conversations with his mother had changed. Riddle now ended every conversation feeling subdued, rather than the occasional one. Riddle hadn't said anything—he never did—but Azul could tell that things were getting worse.
He just didn't know why. All he could hope for was that he could protect Riddle in the inevitable implosion.
✶ ✶ ✶
Joint potionology classes were always a blessing and a curse for Azul. While he was glad to spend time with Riddle, it had been months since they began their relationship. That only meant it was that much harder to pretend that the care between them was nonexistent, that the only words they uttered to one another were imbued with enmity.
Most days, they were in the mood for it, and the banter only heightened the tension of their liaisons later. This was not one of those days. Conversation had been sparse between the two of them all morning, to the point where Azul would have assumed he had done something wrong. He could tell that wasn't the case, though, from the way that Riddle had gravitated toward Azul the moment he saw him.
Riddle had even forgotten about the usual pretense between the two of them, Jade, and Jamil. During most joint potionology classes, they would conveniently fabricate a reason to switch their ordinary pairings so Azul and Riddle could be partners. It was unlike Riddle to forget such a thing, given how much the boy valued his upstanding, no-nonsense reputation. Yet despite the oddness of it, it filled Azul with a sense of warmth to see Riddle seek him out as if on instinct.
Although they were keeping their relationship a secret, there were a few people who knew. Nobody in Heartslabyul was aware, which was all Riddle cared about. Jade and Floyd, on the other hand, were very well aware. And Azul had an inkling that Jamil suspected it, given his lack of questioning when Jade would ask to partner with him during joint potionology lessons.
Besides, Azul preferred partnering with Riddle to Jamil. As strikingly intelligent and deeply intriguing as Jamil was, he still had a habit of aiming for middling grades. To his chagrin, it sometimes affected Azul's own grades. Being partners with Riddle came with no such threat.
Azul gathered the reactants from the central fume hood, methodically measuring out each milliliter and gram to the thousandth decimal point. It was always harder than it looked. Drops from the pipette never quite measured to 0.05 milliliters, and Azul had to add and remove liquid several times before he managed to get the exact amount. It also didn't help that the laurel berries he needed were all different weights entirely. He had to carefully split them while avoiding spilling any of the volatile juice inside.
Most students would simply cut their losses at that point, settling for "good enough," especially when there was a short line of students waiting. Azul was not most students. And frankly, the others' impatience was none of his business. Potionology was a very precise field—Crewel had practically drilled that into their heads, so Azul took great pains to be as exact as possible. He even remembered to measure an extra bit of laurel berry juice, having read that some of his collection would evaporate before they could distill it in step five.
As intrinsic as his strive for perfection was, part of Azul also wanted to prove himself. Riddle almost never let him be the one to collect their ingredients when they partnered. He preferred having control over steps like that, and despite Azul's attempts to argue for a share, Riddle was resolute in his designated role.
It had surprised him earlier, when Riddle agreed to let Azul get their ingredients with barely any acknowledgment of the matter. Pairing that with the despondency Riddle had shown the previous night, Azul suspected that something was affecting him more deeply than usual. Still, an opportunity was an opportunity, and Azul would never miss a chance to showcase the depth of his meticulousness.
Sliding his gatherings gently into collection tubes, he walked back to their cauldron, offering polite, apologetic glances to the vaguely irritated-looking students behind him in line. He may not have cared for their feelings, but he did have a reputation of benevolence to upkeep.
"I think you'll find that these measurements are exactly accurate," Azul said as he slid into his spot next to Riddle. Riddle looked up from where he crouched, adjusting the flames below the cauldron.
"Excellent," he replied, though Azul had a feeling his mind was elsewhere. Whenever Riddle did let Azul collect their ingredients, he at least insisted that he inspect them afterward.
Perhaps this was the next step in their relationship, Azul mused. If milestones for other couples were moments like spending the night together, a milestone for dating Riddle was being trusted to gather potion ingredients on his own. The thought made a smile tug at his lips, though he couldn't shake that uneasy feeling.
By the time the potion turned a deep indigo, the two had settled into a steady rhythm. Azul had taken up stirring duty while Riddle prepared an aliquot of mermaid tears. The circular motion lulled him into a peaceful state, and he barely looked up as Riddle started pouring the necessary eighteen drops. Azul watched the cauldron's content shift from indigo to a rich purple, then a perfect lavender color.
Then his eyes widened, as the lavender changed almost instantly to a pale blue—too many mermaid tear drops had been added. Azul whipped his head up to see Riddle still pouring; almost the entire bottle had been emptied by then. "Riddle," he hissed, nudging the bottle upright in his hand.
Riddle didn't respond, his eyes affixed to the classroom window. Azul frowned, then followed his gaze. All he saw was a red blur at first, until his mind processed the image. A sharply-dressed woman was passing by, nearly out of sight by then, with neatly-pinned hair in an achingly familiar shade of red.
It didn't take him long to connect the dots, especially when he turned back to see Riddle still looking shaken, his complexion paler than Azul had ever seen it.
Azul's heart dropped.
"Riddle?" he asked again, and it wasn't until he placed a gentle hand on Riddle's shoulder that the other boy stirred. He looked down at the bottle that was still gripped tightly in his hand, knuckles white around the glass.
"I…I'm sorry," Riddle murmured, a pink tinge coloring his cheeks. "I seem to have been distracted."
Azul opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Riddle cleared his throat. "Let's adjust the ratios of the other reactants. Would you collect some more for us?" Azul pursed his lips, but nodded his agreement.
When he returned to their cauldron, Riddle seemed to have steadied himself, though there was an obvious tension in his movements.
"Are you alright?" Azul asked quietly. Riddle shot him a look—they were still in class, and as far as their classmates knew, Azul was not one to show concern for the other. He bit back a frustrated sigh, but let it go. He could always talk to Riddle in the break between classes, after all.
Despite the setback, the rest of the class passed smoothly, and they managed to finish their potion right on time. Azul went to hand in their labeled sample to Crewel. When he turned around, Riddle was gone, and so were his things.
Azul felt his heart sink further as he swiveled his head around in the hopes that he could still catch sight of Riddle somewhere. He had no such luck.
Suddenly aware that he was standing idly by his cauldron as the next class started to come in, Azul cleared his throat and started packing his things. In his periphery, a mess of green hair caught his attention. Of course—the third years had class with Crewel after him.
Azul weaved a deliberate path through the cauldrons and workstations, adjusting his expression as he donned an unflappable air. He paused at the cauldron nearest the door, casually eyeing the two that had started setting up there. "Trey, Cater," he greeted with a nod. If the two were surprised at the intrusion, they didn't show it, both greeting him politely in turn.
"You know, your housewarden was slipping up today," Azul said with a smirk. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but the unsuspecting person would never catch that. Trey's face fell into a frown, while Cater just raised his eyebrows, opening his mouth. "If he keeps this up," Azul quickly continued before the upperclassman could speak, "getting the top spot will be too easy."
With that, he continued on his path out of the classroom. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder, his thoughts scattered as he walked to his next class. It was the first time he wasn't looking forward to the rest of his classes for the day, he realized dimly. He was just viscerally aware of how long it would be before he could check on Riddle for himself.
✶ ✶ ✶
Some long hours later, Azul had taken his place in the Mostro Lounge. Jade seemed to have the café under control, so he sequestered himself in his VIP room for the afternoon. There were endless piles of paperwork to get through and numerous budgets to finish, but Azul found his laser focus lacking for once.
His mind kept drifting to Riddle Rosehearts.
Even if Azul hadn't caught that glimpse of Riddle's mother, any bystander would have been able to tell how out-of-sorts Riddle had been in potionology afterwards. The moment that the color drained from Riddle's face seemed embedded on the front of his mind, and Azul ran a hand through his hair with a groan.
Azul had hoped that the other members of Heartslabyul would take the hint, and keep an eye on Riddle when he couldn't. But they couldn't protect him from what they didn't know about, and Azul had no doubt that Riddle had not confided in his dormmates about anything.
If it was any indication, Riddle's temper seemed to have had a hair-pin trigger that day. It seemed that there was at least one Heartslabyul student donning a collar in every hallway Azul passed that afternoon. He couldn't pretend he wasn't worried; Riddle was dangerously close to using his unique magic as much as he had before his overblot.
Azul's only solace was that Riddle would arrive at the VIP room in exactly two and a half minutes—as he did every Monday and Wednesday, like clockwork. Azul was certain that just looking at him, being able to see for himself that Riddle was alright, would be enough to quell his fears.
The two minutes seemed to stretch for eternity as Azul's mind wandered. A rhythmic tapping eventually made its way to his ears, and Azul scowled when he realized it was the rapping of his own pen against his desk. Azul hated nervous habits; he thought he had broken his long ago. Yet, they resurfaced every now and then, embarrassing him each time—a reminder that he was never as poised or relaxed as he tried to appear.
Finally, finally, there was a knock at the door. Azul practically leaped up from the desk, straightening his uniform as he crossed the room in three large steps. Then, because he couldn't seem too eager, he waited a beat before opening the door. A shock of red hair was the first thing that greeted him, and he felt his lips curve into a small smile. "Hello, Riddle," he said softly, opening the door wider so the other boy could enter the room.
"Azul," Riddle greeted primly, a similar smile on his face as he moved to his usual spot on Azul's couch.
Azul couldn't help but observe him as he drew his books from his backpack, setting them up on the coffee table. To most, he supposed, Riddle would seem completely himself. Any trace of his fragility from earlier that day seemed to have dissipated. Not one hair was out of place; not one wrinkle marred his perfectly-pressed uniform.
Of course, Azul considered himself an expert in picking up on what others may not, especially where Riddle was concerned. He noticed, for example, that the smile Riddle wore was not his usual one—his muscles were just too tight to seem entirely natural.
And despite Riddle's attempts to maintain perfect control over his movements, there was the occasional one that was just slightly too sharp. As though that control was merely a front that he was shielding himself with. As though he was really overthinking every movement in an effort to appear normal, only for it to have the opposite effect on Azul.
Azul also knew better than to try to force a dialogue about Riddle's feelings right then. He never had been receptive to that sort of thing. Instead, he picked up his own books and joined Riddle on the couch.
The motion of writing seemed to be soothing to Riddle; it always was. Azul could multitask rather well, so it was no trouble to take his own notes while stealing glances at Riddle from the corner of his eye. Subtly, he watched the rise and fall of Riddle's chest, the gentle rustling of his bangs—he had a habit of tilting his head a bit as he wrote, and his hair always followed suit. Azul sometimes wondered whether Riddle was aware of the way that his lips pursed ever-so-slightly to the side when he was concentrating.
He wouldn't be the one to tell him, obviously, on the chance that Riddle may stop doing it entirely. He couldn't have that.
Surprisingly, Riddle was the one to break the silence. "I should apologize," he said without looking up, about eight pages into his reading. Not that Azul had been counting on purpose. He was just tangibly aware of Riddle's every movement, including the turning of his pages, which Riddle had happened to do seven times.
Azul merely shot him a quizzical look, waiting for him to elaborate.
"My actions in potionology today were irresponsible, I could have endangered us both." Riddle finished, and Azul's gaze softened.
"It was no matter," Azul said carefully, matching Riddle's semi-formal tone. He swallowed quickly, then asked, "Was there something that prompted it?"
Riddle's eyes stayed on his textbook, and he shook his head firmly. "No," he said. "I was just tired. There's an unbirthday party coming up, and—"
"Riddle," Azul said quietly.
"—and there's been so much to do to prepare. The first-years still barely know how to paint the roses, even though it's been more than a semester. The tea sets all have missing pieces, and…" Riddle continued as though he hadn't heard Azul. Azul bit his lip, and his hand lifted like it had a mind of its own.
Gently cupping Riddle's jaw, he angled the other boy's face toward his own. Riddle trailed off, his mouth parted slighly as his gray eyes finally met Azul's. They gleamed then, with a mix of anxiety and devout tenderness, slowly roaming over Azul's face until they fell down to his lips.
Azul found himself absentmindedly wetting them, watching as Riddle's eyes ardently tracked the movement. He swallowed again. Riddle's gaze dropped down to the bob of his Adam's apple, then finally back up to Azul's eyes.
"I saw her," Azul murmured at last, before the intensity of Riddle's gaze could distract him too much. The words sent a visible jolt through Riddle's body. He said nothing, but Azul watched as his open expression shuttered. Riddle blinked slowly, then drew back, calmly twisting his chin from Azul's grasp as he cleared his throat.
"Then you know what prompted it already," he said. "I have nothing more to add."
"Nothing t—" Azul started to repeat, dumbfounded. "Riddle, your mother was on campus. Surely there's something you want to say about it! At least tell me why she was here?"
Riddle shrugged, a jerky, tense movement despite his best efforts to seem nonplussed. "She wanted to speak to Crowley about switching me to a different dorm, to get me away from unsavory influences."
Azul's eyebrows leapt up, practically disappearing into his pale hairline. "Why?" he exclaimed, aghast. Riddle Rosehearts outside of Heartslabyul was like…well, 'a fish out of water' was a poor analogy, coming from him. But the symbolism was there.
"She thought a different environment might disabuse me of silly notions, like…not becoming a medical mage." Riddle's last words were quiet, uttered after a pause to steady himself.
At that, Azul exhaled sharply. "You told her, then?" Riddle nodded.
"Last night," he clarified. "She…didn't take it well."
That explained Riddle's unprecedentedly saddened nature the previous night, Azul realized. He had barely been in any condition to study, his expression listless as he stared at his textbook, eyes unmoving. Azul felt immeasurably guilty right then—he had suspected that the conversation had been worse than usual, but he didn't quite expect that it had been that bad. He just wished…
"I wish you had told me," was all he said. Azul wanted desperately to know more, but he suspected that if he didn't approach this delicately, Riddle would clam up entirely. "Did you talk to anybody, at least?"
Riddle frowned lightly, shaking his head. "Of course not," he said. "I didn't want Trey to worry."
Azul sighed with a matching frown, before unfolding his arms and opening them for Riddle. The boy leaned in on instinct, loosening up as he crumpled against Azul, who wrapped strong arms around him. They leaned back onto the couch, until Riddle was half-on-top-of Azul, half-beside him. Azul rubbed slow strokes down Riddle's back, as he considered his next words.
The only words he could find—the only things he really needed to know—were what escaped his mouth.
"Why won't you talk to me? Why won't you let me help you?" he asked, so softly that the words were muffled against the side of Riddle's head. He wasn't expecting a reply, really, but Riddle offered one nonetheless. His voice was shaky, but Azul caught every word.
"I don't want you to think I'm weak."
Azul couldn't help but let out a surprised laugh at that. "You?" he chucked as Riddle reared back to look at him, his eyes flashing indignantly at the laughter. "The youngest housewarden in the history of this school? One of the most powerful sophomores to walk these halls? Not that you hold a candle to me, of course," he continued, laughing again as Riddle swiped half-heartedly at his head, knocking his glasses askew.
"The last thing I would ever think of you as is weak," Azul finished sincerely. Riddle held his gaze for a long moment before settling against his chest again.
"That was too nice," the boy murmured. "What's your angle?"
Azul smirked, fixing his glasses. "Was I that obvious?" he replied. "I'm merely trying to get close to you…learn all your secrets. Your mother's secrets, mostly, in order to ruin her entire livelihood."
It was Riddle's turn to let out a choked laugh, and Azul grinned. "I meant that last bit," he continued. "If only you weren't her dependent—"
"I'm not," Riddle interjected.
Ah. Azul would destroy that woman.
"She disowned you?" he asked, his voice oddly quiet.
Riddle swallowed harshly, following it with a quick nod into Azul's chest. "Crowley wouldn't let her switch my dorm—obviously. She has no authority to overturn the ruling of the Dark Mirror. But when it didn't work, she…essentially told me that I had no place in her home until I came to my senses. Showed her some gratitude for everything she's done for me."
Riddle's voice broke a bit on the last sentence, and Azul's heart clenched when he felt the wetness of tears seep into the fabric of his uniform. He worked his jaw, trying to calm himself before he kept speaking.
"You know, you will always have a home with me," he said, his thumb rubbing small circles onto Riddle's waist. "My mother and step-father would love to have you. They already want to meet you, you know." Faintly, Azul's cheeks reddened as he realized the implications. He considered taking back the admission that he talked about Riddle frequently with his parents, but decided against it.
Riddle said nothing, and Azul angled his face to try to get a glimpse of Riddle's. "Well?" he prompted.
Riddle pressed one arm onto the couch, using it to push himself up so his face hovered over Azul's. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and his eyes were conflicted. "Thank you, but no," he said eventually. "If my parents will no longer be paying for my higher education, I will need to make my application seamless, to earn any scholarship I can. I'll need opportunities on land, internships that I will not be able to get if I have to move somewhere else."
Azul nodded slowly. It made sense logically, yet he couldn't help but have concerns. "Where will you stay over the summers, then?" he pressed.
"In the Queendom of Roses," Riddle replied. "I will apply for summer programs that cover room and board, and pay stipends. With my academic performance and extracurriculars, I have no doubt that competition will be minimal, if there is any at all."
If Riddle had been anybody else, Azul would have been caught off-guard by his ability to think so clearly about logistics immediately after his life had been upended. But Azul knew him like the back of his hand. Though he was impressed by Riddle's forethought, he wasn't surprised.
Azul also knew that this part—thinking about logistics and practical measures to take—would be calming to Riddle. The boy thrived in creating order amidst chaos, and he found it grounding to focus on what he could control, what he could plan for. That was something that Azul had always related to.
"I had already been thinking about this, actually," Riddle added. "I knew that Mother wouldn't exactly accept my decision, so I was…preparing for the worst." Azul's breath hitched at yet another admission of Riddle shouldering burdens on his own, but he didn't interrupt. "I've already started applying to programs for this summer, at least."
Azul nodded, then paused. "And you do know that if you ever need it, you have a place with me?" he asked, tilting his head. "We can get you the necessary paperwork, and as many transformation potions as you like." Riddle held his gaze, considering his offer.
"I don't want to impose," he said slowly.
"Nonsense," Azul scoffed. "It will be no trouble at all. There's ample space at our house, and my parents will love you as much as I do. Your transformation potions will be free of charge from the foundation that sponsors me. And it could be useful for you to immerse yourself—literally—in a different culture." Azul trailed off quizically as he caught sight of the expression on Riddle's face.
Riddle's lips had parted, his eyes shining fiercely, and his cheeks were bright flushes of red. Before Azul could say anything, Riddle dipped forward until their lips met in a soft but forceful kiss. Azul let out a choked noise, the breath expelled from his lungs, and Riddle took the opportunity to slip his tongue past his lips. Azul reacted instantly, bringing his arms up to pull Riddle in closer, closer, closer.
When Riddle finally pulled backward, Azul blinked, licking his lips while the faintest taste of strawberry lingered. "I—Not that I'm complaining, or—" Azul's mind scrambled to form full sentences through the subtle haze of euphoria. "What was that for?" he finally asked, weakly.
Riddle toyed with his bottom lip between his teeth, his gray eyes sparkling with a teasing glint. "You don't know?" he asked in lieu of a reply. Azul just blinked again, and Riddle's eyes narrowed marginally as a smirk stretched across his face.
"My, my, Azul," he said with a lilt in his voice. "You finally admit that you love me, and you don't even remember it…"
Azul's mouth fell open. He replayed his own words; surely he would have—oh.
My parents will love you as much as I do.
"Well—That is—" Azul stammered, his face heating as he struggled to explain himself. "I mean, it's not that I don't—"
"Azul," Riddle interrupted him, landing a soft peck on his nose. "I feel the same."
Azul's lips quirked upward, his rapid heart rate somehow calming and accelerating simultaneously. "Do you?" he asked, tilting his head so his eyes appeared half-lidded. "And what exactly is it that you feel?" he pressed.
This time, Riddle looked a little embarrassed as he held eye contact with Azul. "I may hold a certain affection for you," he murmured.
"Clearly," Azul replied, an eyebrow raising. Riddle released a quick breath, his expression saying 'Don't tease me'—as if Azul was going to pay that any heed.
Riddle cleared his throat. He opened his mouth and closed it once, before emitting a soft sigh. "I love you too," he said.
The tone of the words were uneven, as if he had intended them to be playful, but somehow wound up speaking with utter sincerity. They poured out of his mouth unguarded, an offering he was laying before Azul and all they had built together.
Azul used to have favorite phrases. "It's a deal." "You win." "You were right." Words that filled him with an unmistakeable sense of glee to hear aloud.
Those were meaningless, now. He had found his new favorite words from his favorite lips, and he would be content if they were all he heard for the rest of his life.
They were almost enough to distract him from the fact that Riddle hadn't exactly answered his question. If he didn't know better, Azul would have suspected that it was on purpose. Because he did know better, he reasoned that it was just an added benefit for Riddle—he was nothing if not clever. Nevertheless, Azul thought he should get the conversation back on track.
"Just think about it?" he asked when the moment had passed, and he could tell by the flicker in Riddle's eyes that he knew exactly what Azul meant. After a pause, Riddle nodded his assent, and the relief broke another grin across Azul's face.
"And," Azul continued, aware that he was possibly stretching his luck, "will you please talk to me when things are troubling you? You don't need to deal with everything on your own. Not anymore." Riddle's expression was unreadable as he considered the words, and Azul found himself holding his breath as he waited.
It felt like ages before Riddle responded, an undercurrent of reluctance in his voice. "I suppose I can let you know the next time," he said slowly.
"Good," Azul replied. "Then perhaps you won't have to terrorize your underclassmen so much." He watched with a mischievous satisfaction as red began to flood Riddle's face again.
"Well, perhaps I wouldn't have had to discipline them if they had been obeying the rules," Riddle said hotly, and Azul lifted a single hand in mock surrender, the other tightening around Riddle's waist. Riddle scanned Azul's face as he bit back the rest of his tirade, his anger seeming to disappear as quickly as it had come.
They laid together for what felt like hours, Riddle with his head on Azul's chest and a finger tracing lazy heart-shaped patterns on Azul's collarbone. Eventually, Azul turned his face to the side, noticing the textbooks that lay open and forgotten on the coffee table. Riddle, feeling the movement, followed his gaze and sighed at the reminder of their neglected schoolwork.
Slowly, he peeled himself off of Azul, inching backward and landing in a kneeling position. Azul dragged his legs out from under Riddle, and the two arranged themselves until they were sitting upright, side-by-side.
"Are you going to be okay?" Azul asked Riddle quietly as he picked up his pen again.
Riddle shrugged, though his eyes were much clearer than they had been a while ago. He looked calmer too, and Azul took that to mean that he had done his job. "I will be," Riddle replied, and Azul believed it.
Whatever else Riddle had to face, be it from his mother or the world at large, Azul believed that Riddle would be okay—and that he would be by his side to make sure of it.