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The clock in Riddle's room chimes at 6:00AM each morning. By 6:01, Riddle is out from beneath the covers. By 6:10, his uniform is ironed and Riddle is dressed. By 6:20, he's combed out the tangles in his crimson hair but for those pesky cowlicks that stick up over his bangs. By 6:30, he's already seated at his desk, preparing his notes, textbooks, and schoolbag for the day. Above all, Riddle is a creature of routine. He's kept the same ritual since the first day of his first year at Night Raven College, and probably long before that.
Trey's phone alarm sounds at 6:30 each morning. It's too early. Earlier than anyone should have to be awake. At 6:39, it rings again. Snoozed. By 6:45, Trey's fumbled for his glasses at his side table, bringing the world into focus far sooner than he wishes he had to. Trey isn't nearly so ritualistic. His parents would probably tease him if they knew he was still griping about a 6:30 wake up. In the baking world, that's sleeping in. Fight it as he might, though, he's just not a morning person.
Trey doesn't need to hear Riddle's clock to know it chimes at 6. He doesn't need to see him get out of bed the instant it rings to know he does. He doesn't need to watch him make his bed, iron his uniform, comb out the kinks in his hair to know he's done it before Trey's out of bed.
By 7, Trey is dressed and stopping in the dorm's kitchen to ensure no one's made a mess of things overnight. Maybe he's territorial about the place. If he is, he has a good reason. By 7:10, he's wound through Heartslabyul's labyrinthine stairwells to his Housewarden's room, a couple of yesterday's jam cookies in tow. He lets himself in.
The tea is already set on Riddle's coffee table, two cups waiting. Riddle himself pours over his books, mouthing formulae to himself like a curse, unflinching at Trey's entrance.
For a moment, Trey watches him, leaning against the open doorway as if waiting to enter en scene. Riddle's a masterpiece he's unwilling to disturb with his own brushstroke. He's not a morning person, but these glimpses of Riddle before the chaos of the day frenzy him make the wakeup almost worthwhile.
The desk-ward muttering stops, as Riddle finally notices him.
"Trey." Riddle tries to scold. "How long were you planning on standing there?" Any bite to the Housewarden's words withers beneath the small smile that blooms at the sight of Trey. Riddle has either never bothered or never learned to hide what he feels, and Trey in particular can read him like a book, and probably one that's a lot more straightforward than whatever Riddle has splayed out in front of him.
Sometimes, it goes to Trey's head.
"Just a moment longer, Your Majesty."
With a shake of his head, Riddle abandons his desk to pull Trey inside by his hand. "I'm afraid I can't allow that. The tea is ready, you see."
When Trey and Riddle first started doing—well—this— dating. Riddle had been tentative. He probably wouldn't have considered this kind of thing if it hadn't been Trey to ask. A love life isn't exactly conducive to his draconian routine.
Now though, after several months of this, he handles Trey with the same confidence he does a rudimentary spell. Riddle sits him and the cookies down on his sofa, taking advantage of the difference in height to peck Trey's temple. "Thank you for coming." As if they don't do this every morning.
The visits tend to be quiet ones; a calm before the storm of the day as Heartslabyul's dorm heads. Honestly, most of them end up more like administrative meetings than romantic visits. Trey supposes that's to be expected from Riddle. And, admittedly, the extra coordination makes the dorm run smoothly, with both dorm leaders executing the same order.
Today is no different, they sit side by side and sip their tea. Riddle eats his cookie, then eyes Trey's until Trey offers his to him as well.
Trey doesn't really mind missing out on the dessert. The delight in Riddle's small smile as he eats is more than sweet enough—
—Okay, so maybe he knew this would happen and has a backup tucked into his school bag for when they part for the morning.
"I'm thinking of doing an egg hunt for the younger students." Trey muses, fiddling with the handle of his cup. "'Could use some help with the painting part, and from what I hear, you're still the quickest in the dorm."
Usually, Trey would expect Riddle to preen beneath the flattery, underhanded as it may be. He's a proud person, and usually being called 'the best' rubs him the right way. The best way to get the Housewarden on your side is to butter him up a bit first.
Instead, Riddle narrows his eyes, as Trey can practically hear the gears in his mind turn. "Is this — your oyster sauce thing again."
"My joke?" Trey clarifies with a feigned gasp. It's a shame that not many of the students here really get Trey's sense of humor. He thinks it's funny, though, and that's really all that matters. "But no, it's not a joke. I guess it makes sense for you not to have done it as a kid."
Hiding painted eggs was a common spring tradition on the Queendom of Roses; Big enough that even the regency itself put on annual hunts in palace grounds. Kids from all over the province would participate, collecting painted eggs and trading them in for chocolate and candy. Of course, he should have realized that Riddle wouldn't have ever done one. It's not something he can imagine Ms. Rosehearts organizing, not to mention the sugar content in the rewards would be out of the question for a young Riddle.
Trey musses Riddle's hair, earning a half-hearted scowl. "On second thought, why don't you join in? It's good for morale. I'll have the third years help with the painting."
"Join in on what, exactly?" Asks Riddle with a stern expression, quickly smoothing out the hairs that Trey messed up. "You still haven't told me what you're doing."
His heartstrings strum painfully. It'd be nice to say he and Riddle are both over their history, but it'd also be a boldfaced lie. They're just both pretty practiced at tamping it down. Deflect, disregard. That's really all the two of them can do in their day to day. That's right, better to keep things simple. For all his studying, there are so many gaps in Riddle's life-knowledge that it's pretty adorable.
"Egg hunts are common in a few places, but especially in the Queendom. Usually, adults paint and hide eggs for kids, and the kids run around parks or libraries and what have you until they find them." Trey explains. "Then, you trade the eggs in, and you get treats based on the number you collect."
"I- see…" Riddle deflates, mind elsewhere. No doubt, he's come to the same conclusion Trey has. But, not a moment later Riddle shakes his head. "I'll join." He decides. "I'm counting on you to make my first experience a good one."
"Just don't expect too much." Trey self-depreciates, knowing fully well that Riddle expects the world; knowing full well that Trey will deliver it in spades.
Riddle
Riddle likes structure. Riddle needs structure. Wait. Riddle prefers structure, but if structure doesn't happen, that's okay. This morning, it just so happens that there is no structure. AND THAT'S FINE.
True to Trey's word, he didn't ask Riddle for any assistance when it came to his egg-painting escapades. Rather, the third years in Heartslabyul have proven to be infuriatingly tight-lipped about the looming 'egg hunt' the Vice Housewarden was planning. It's insubordination is what it is. Riddle would have their heads if it wasn't Trey leading their mutiny. So instead, he has his tea alone this morning.
Or, that was his intention. His door opens just past 8, and the Usurper strides in with a freshly warmed scone like he hasn't commandeered Riddle's entire army in an instant. Oh well. Clover baking tastes the same regardless of if one's rule is threatened. Trey can't stay long. Too much to do. So he leaves Riddle with a kiss and an ominous, "Good luck, Your Majesty." Vexing!
How foolish. Trey should know by now that luck has nothing to do with things. Riddle may be at a disadvantage having never done a so-called 'egg hunt' before, but that does not mean he will work any less hard at it. No, he will show Heartslabyul's card soldiers again and again why they follow him.
As instructed, Riddle arrives at the maze's entrance shortly before 10. With a wave of his magical pen, he instructs the carefully curated hedges - Hither and Thither layout— per Trey's instruction. And at 10 exactly, Trey sets forth the Rules, and Riddle could swear he's looking right at him. If he's the only person in Twisted Wonderland who apparently has not hunted for eggs before, then Trey's public explanation is surely for his benefit. He keeps his mouth shut, the unfortunate flush in his cheeks a secret for only Trey to understand.
"You know the drill, guys." Explains the Vice Housewarden. "Grab a basket and collect as many eggs as you can before time runs out. No stealing from other students, no physical or magic attacks, and no cheating your way over or through the maze. You have half an hour from when Cater says go."
Cater waves his magical pen in front of the crowd teasingly. "We have some seriously trending prizes to trade for when you get back. Just make sure to get back to base on time." He points his pen above the group, sending sparks upward and raining down harmlessly over the group of first and second years. "And go!"
Go? Go? The first and second year card soldiers scatter far more like marbles than an army, diving into the hedge maze like pebbles into the sea. A second later, Riddle's competitive instincts kick in, so he goes, scooping up a basket and dashing into the maze's maw. He locks eyes with Trey on his way in.
"Have fun" His boyfriend mouths. But Riddle is far too busy winning to take such an order. While Riddle is admittedly several steps behind both literally and in terms of experience, he knows each maze layout like the back of his textbooks. Even the Hither and Thither layout which distorts whimsically has a certain nonsense to it that Riddle has made sense of. But, it's not about clearing the maze. Eggs. It's about eggs.
Only, Riddle doesn't see any within his obvious field of vision. Maybe they were already picked over and he's too little too late. Maybe he's just not devoted enough. He turns a corner, and another. Eggless.
"What is this?" The Housewarden hisses his frustration. At this rate he'll return to the third years with an empty basket. He feels the early heat of looming rage crawl over the back of his neck. Losing so completely is unacceptable, it's unfathomable it's—
Riddle freezes face to face with a white rose bloom, standing out amidst the sea of red in this stretch of the maze. Today is not only the day of Trey's special event, it's the 5th of the month. There will be an Unbirthday Party today. The roses must be painted red— No— It would be nice if the roses were painted red. The error is a small one, and there's no harm if it's corrected. Riddle touches his pen to the petals, turning it red and— out of it drops an egg, which Riddle catches in his palm. It's light, hollowed out, maybe, and painted so that it blended into the plant. Though, against the red it stands out like a cat at a party.
"I see." He smiles to himself, lodging his first treasure in his basket. The eggs, at least some of them, are hidden intentionally, not scattered haphazardly around the maze. The color of the roses is something that lamentably, some card soldiers will overlook. But not Riddle. Never Riddle.
Now that Riddle knows what he's looking for, he can scour the maze more calmly. He finds several delinquent white roses further along his hunt that the rampaging card soldiers must have missed as they were leveling this area. And in each egg Riddle finds when he corrects the imperfection, the characters of yet another unwritten love letter spell themselves out to him. This was surely Trey's doing. This garden and these flowers carry a cocktail of rage and love that is particularly sharp to the two of them. Trey must have known Riddle would stop to paint the petals.
A turn here, two there, and several elsewhere lead eventually to the tea garden, particularly difficult to reach for anyone without this maze layout memorized. To Riddle's delight as Housewarden, but chagrin as an egg hunter, a dozen or so second years are here already, searching under and around the tables and chairs. They hesitate as Riddle pushes past the arched entryway and into the courtyard, having disturbed the set up for his unbirthday party just so. With a permissive waive of his hand, Riddle consents, taking mental note of those who disturb the settings to ensure they put them back once the game is done.
There does not appear to be much of a point in dirtying his uniform like the other students here. Whatever eggs were attached to the underbellies of the furniture must have already been plucked over. So Riddle, perhaps uniquely suited, makes his way to the Unbirthday Table. If Trey is playing the game with Riddle he thinks he is, there will be an egg asleep in the teapot where the dormouse will soon be. But, as Riddle reaches for the lid to find out, another hand beats him to it and snatches the ovarian prize from within. Riddle's eyes jolt to the face of the card solider with enough gall to snatch a prize from beneath his Housewarden's nose.
"Ace." The name is poison on his lips. Riddle should have known it would be him. To his credit, he is one of the only first-years seemingly to have found this portion of the maze. To his possible credit, checking in the teapot either evidences a base knowledge of the Rules, or just dumb luck. To his substantial DISCREDIT he is TAKING RIDDLE'S THINGS.
Unbothered by Riddle's outward animosity, Ace tucks the pilfered egg into his overflowing basket with a triumphant grin thrown Riddle's way. "Sorry, Housewarden, you know what they say."
Riddle blinks at the thief in disbelief. To think he wouldn't even think twice about such flagrant disrespect. Riddle's lip curls sadistically. Were they not equals in this game, he'd have had Ace's head the second he stole from Riddle. "Enlighten me."
Ace shrugs and flashes a lazy grin. "You snooze you lose, so, maybe pick up the pace a bit."
Anger bubbles just beneath Riddle's surface like a constantly simmering kettle, and Ace is particularly gifted at having him spill over. He exhales in a low hiss, but otherwise keeps his cool for the sake of the game. Ace scampers away to the end of the table, lifting teacups and serving trays in his greedy search.
"Once this game is done, I'll take your tongue and feed it to you." Riddle curses.
Ace snorts, raising his hand in surrender. "Yeah yeah, tell it to your five eggs."
Let the record reflect that Riddle and his five eggs do just fine. In fact, by the time Cater's voice booms over the maze announcing their 3 minute warning, RIddle and his five eggs have three more to add to his basket. A respectable quantity, he assumes, for one's very first egg hunt.
Riddle and several trailing underclassmen exit the maze with a minute to spare, as other students trickle outwards at a steady clip. Those who don't make it in time forfeit their baskets upon their exit, and are directed to tidy the tea garden. Regrettably, Ace makes it out in one piece and on time with his cornucopic basket.
The successful escapees trade their eggs in for a collection of rewards from the upperclassmen — off campus passes, vouchers to Sam's, days off from chores that Riddle has a feeling he's going to end up balancing from the dorm's budget and schedule. When all is said and done, Riddle hands his own basket to Trey personally. "I should have done better." He justifies. "Next time I'll get far more."
Trey simply laughs in his face, or maybe just chuckles fondly; All in the same when Riddle is already agitated.
The Vice Housewarden rifles through the basket before setting it aside with the others. "You did just fine. Everyone's a winner."
Riddle pouts at the obvious attempt to placate him. Even if everyone can win, the person with the most eggs clearly wins the most. "My prize, then." Riddle urges. "You should know I won't be satisfied with a mere ticket into town."
An arm around his shoulders pulls Riddle to Trey's side as the Vice Housewarden surreptitiously sneaks a kiss onto the crown of Riddle's head. "You won't be disappointed." Trey vows. "I'll bring it at the end of the day."
Probability would dictate a near certainty that tonight, Riddle will receive a home made tart served to him alone. By now, it's one he's had near hundreds of times, though only a few years ago he would have committed atrocities for even a taste. It's only appropriate that something so simple as a dessert would hold so much meaning in their relationship; Trey's love language from the beginning, and one Riddle will happily receive ad infinitum.
He sighs performatively, leaning his forehead into Trey's cheek just slightly. "The courage you must have to make me wait. . .You spoil me." He whispers. "I look forward to it."
Trey
Being Riddle's Vice Housewarden is difficult. Riddle is difficult. He has all the qualities of an excellent Queen, with a fuse as short as a Tyrant's. Since the first day, it's been his job to temper Riddle's temper, and keep the soldiers from defecting, and that's difficult for one person.
Loving Riddle is easy. There's no guesswork. Riddle wears his heart on his chest and is blunt to the point of brutality. If he hates something, he'll make it everyone's problem. If he loves something, you can see it plain as daylight. And Riddle loves strawberry tarts, then and now. And he loves Trey. Loving Riddle is easy because he never gave Trey a choice in the matter. Inevitable like the next breath.
Riddle's prize, as promised, is a personal tart prepared just in the way he's made it for Riddle time and time again.
Only, when Trey lets himself into Riddle's room, it's suspiciously empty. Riddle doesn't miss appointments, especially when there's a pastry on the line. The room is as it was this morning, with one striking difference. Riddle's coffee table — usually so overloaded with books and paperwork they have to stack them to make room for breakfast, is empty, but for a single note at its center held down by a single paperweight.
He snickers, bemused to himself, picking up the weight to confirm that it is, indeed a single egg, unpainted; and from the weight of it, not hollowed out. "Almost, Riddle."
The day's been a long one, and Trey wants nothing more than to curl up with Riddle on his couch while he praises the tart Trey's baked him like it's a masterwork. But if Riddle wants to play this game first, Trey can find a second wind.
'Find 5 in Our Heartslabyul' The note reads. 'Exchange for a prize. Yours always, R.R.'
"Our Heartslabyul, huh?" Trey repeats, turning the page over in his hands. Puzzles and riddles are about as close as Riddle ever got to games, it's no wonder he likes them so much. At least there are only 5 raw eggs laying about to find, or, 4 with the one from the desk. He pockets it and leaves the room, and the tart behind for now.
The first stop on Riddle's egg hunt is a simple one - the kitchen. This isn't only because its been a cornerstone of their time here, but because in Riddle's peripheral understanding of how these things work, he didn't' leave Trey with much to carry the eggs in. Sure, he probably could fit 5 raw eggs in his blazer pockets, but the consequences of a sudden movement are a bit too yolk-ey for him to want to risk. He'll just grab a carton to keep them in. That way, he can reuse them another day and avoid any unwanted messes. But, when he tries to open the door, someone pushes it from the other side.
"Don't come in yet!"
"Riddle?" In truth, Trey doesn't need to ask. He could pick Riddle's voice out of a crowd of 7 billion, let alone 810. He ignores the demand, trying the door again with the same resistance.
All the same Riddle's voice answers from the other side. "I said don't come in!!"
"I uh found your note" Trey responds, pushing just a bit harder. It's no secret that he's physically stronger than Riddle; so as long as Riddle doesn't bring magic into this, Trey will get what he wants. "This is one of the places, right? 'Our Heartslabyul?'"
After a moment, Riddle lets up, leaving Trey to nearly trip as the door swings open under his pressure, and leaving him face to face with his boyfriend. You weren't supposed to come here first." Riddle complains face red with the telltale sign of being caught in the act.
"Oh, really?" Trey teases, skirting around Riddle and into the kitchen. "Your note led me here." He accuses, surreptitiously lifting a lid here, and opening a drawer there. "If I'm right, and I think I am, there's an egg waiting for me."
Riddle folds his arms, not quite looking Trey in the eye. "There could be."
For all of Riddles attributes, he is not creative, a walking example of thinking so far inside the box, he's in a totally different box inside the box most people are in. Some drawers, some jars, the fridge, the oven. When it's clear there's no egg in any of them, it's clear that Riddle might not have hidden it yet. After-all, Trey's been in the kitchen until not long ago, so Riddle's window for subterfuge would be narrow at best.
"Unless…" Trey smirks, rounding the kitchen island and drawing closer to Riddle himself, who backs against the counter-top. "Could it be I caught you before you could hide it?"
"Don't be silly, Trey." Riddle frowns, verifying Trey's guess instantly. Riddle has never been a good liar, even when he's trying. It's cute… and easy to take advantage of.
Call him an opportunist because Trey only grins wider, pressing Riddle against the counter and leaving no room for him to duck out. "Now, I'm not saying you're lying," He runs his hands down the arms of Riddle's jacket, then slips them up his sides. ",ut you're looking bulkier than normal."
Riddle squirms under Trey's touch, trying to twist away and unwittingly giving everything away by body language alone.
But Trey is unrelenting. He knows he's onto something that the Housewarden is just too pretentious to admit. He wriggles his fingers into Riddle's left pocket. "Here then? AH—" Bingo. Out comes egg number two which Trey holds up between them victoriously. "That's two down."
Riddle huffs, but ultimately throws his hands up in the universal sign for 'fine, have it your way, Trey' "It wasn't supposed to go like this." He grumbles, easing Trey backwards by his shoulders to make a more respectable space between them. ". . . But, I suppose that's okay. Right?"
"Right." Trey agrees, making note of how much Riddle has come in just a short time. While the Housewarden is still more rigid than a board, at least he's learned to bend just slightly.
With two eggs down, Trey can grab the carton he came here to get in the first place. It's an unconventional basket, sure, but it'll do the trick for now. He pops his two prizes back inside along with the one straggler already in here, and tucks the carton under his arm.
"Next time I'll have a basket ready." Riddle assures, no doubt having long since realized how far his game differs from the hunt Trey and the upperclassmen organized earlier.
Trey chuckles in response, and holds the kitchen door open for Riddle. "Next time we'll do it together." He promises. "Now, if you have no more hiding to do, maybe you can come with me for the rest?"
Riddle doesn't react for just long enough for Trey to notice. Another change of plan for him to rationalize and cope with. Then, though, Riddle joins Trey in the doorway. "It would be a pleasure." He decrees, and Riddle is always right.
Back in the hallway, Riddle takes Trey's hand, marching them with his usual confidence over what Trey can only assume is the lounge. Riddle probably isn't meaning to direct him to the next hiding place, more that he can't turn off his undeniable leadership role, just as much as Trey can't dismiss his supportive one.
He squeezes Riddle's hand. A gentle reminder. "Where are we headed?"
It's enough to get the message across because Riddle slows his pace, letting Trey direct their course now. "That's your job to figure out." Riddle reminds them both.
It's no secret that there is another egg hidden in the lounge. Their Heartslabyul wouldn't be complete without this place where they meet as dorm-heads with Heartslabyul's students, where birthday parties are hosted, and where Trey will so often catch Riddle reading or studying despite having far more private places to do so. It's another change Riddle has made in the past several months to combat his learned isolation, to connect with his fellow students, and to make up for many lonely years. The two of them have spent countless hours here alongside the rest of the dorm. While the exercise probably isn't all that good for efficient studying, it's helped the morale in Heartslabyul considerably; let other students see the side to Riddle Trey's always known was still there.
At this hour, many of the students are already winding down for the night - either in the washrooms tidying up or already returned to their bedrooms. Some still mill about the lounge, finishing homework in a public enough place to provoke another student to help or let them copy, maybe. The students here straighten when the Housewarden duo enter, but Trey waves to them dismissively. "Don't mind us." He encourages, knowing full well that it's impossible not to mind someone with a presence like Riddle's.
Yup, just him, Riddle, and this carton of raw eggs.
Trey traces the room, looking calmly for egg number three. It's not in the centerpieces on the table, nor in the fireplace or the clock on the mantle. Riddle's self-satisfied smirk grows the longer Trey spends looking. Good. It's rewarding to see him satisfied, especially when Trey is the one doing it.
He glances down at his boyfriend. If the egg he hid was already taken, he would surely say something then leave Trey to search like a sideshow. So, it must be in here, and too well-hidden for someone who wasn't looking for it to find. "Okay." He decides, gathering all the information available. "I can do this."
Trey scans the room for anything out of place. Then… maybe. He adjusts his glasses. The picture frames on the wall have always been tilted but one seems differently tilted than normal. "I've got it." He whispers to Riddle, who nods in silent approval.
'Lo and behold, there is another egg tucked in behind the slanted frame. Into the carton it goes with only a few strange looks from the students studying here. Trey shrugs to them apologetically. You know how it is when the person you love asks you to look for eggs in public places.
They say their goodbyes before moving on. This time, Riddle remembers not to lead Trey to the exact place they're going, even though Trey has a pretty good idea.
Fourth stop: the rose garden. Few places here that are charged with the good, the bad, and the very very ugly between the two of them.
The garden is the natural next destination. Here, Heartslabyul holds its Unbirthday Parties. A year ago, those were the rare and seldom times Trey would see Riddle genuinely happy, surrounded by people with as many desserts as he could want for. A year ago, Trey would maybe, definitely, overcompensate for eight years lost with more tarts, more pastries, more biscuits than anyone really had any business making. Months ago, Riddle's aggression and Trey's neglect crested into the hardest day of Trey's life, but not the worst. Riddle over-blotted. The garden was razed and Riddle burned with it.
Then, the weeks, months, that followed, Trey and Riddle painted the roses alongside the rest of the dorm. He's come such a long way in such a short time. And, the consequence of everything Riddle new to be immutable reality coming crumbling to ruin was that he could see things he never could before. A white rose before it's been painted red. A pair of glasses in the forest. Trey and his enduring feelings that finally could be reciprocated. Sure, Trey would have preferred it all to happen in more of a spark and less of a fireball, but that was the tradeoff when it came to Riddle. Everything he does is written in red and underlined in bold.
At this time of night, the garden is empty. It's only a few ticks to curfew, and anyone planning to stay out late has enough sense to make themselves scarce when they hear Riddle coming.
Empty of people, the tea garden takes on a different character. The place that is normally the most lively in the dorm is abandoned, almost imposing where it's nestled at the heart of the impossibly tall hedge maze. Yeah, definitely scary.
The look he shoots Riddle isn't as sad as it is sullen. This is a serious place, and probably will never be fully free of hard memories. But, those memories led to where they are today in equal measure. Here and now Riddle leans his head into Trey's shoulder, silent assurance he never learned to express softly.
"It's best not to linger." Riddle encourages, no doubt feeling the same.
"Right." Trey agrees, separating from Riddle and flicking a light on from his magical pen. Riddle must have come back here after the Unbirthday Party to hide this next one, which means he probably took some inspiration from the earlier dorm-wide hunt. Trey scans the garden carefully, the furniture, the tea sets, all stored for the next party, which is never too far away.
"Did you have fun earlier?" Trey asks, deflecting and disregarding the heavy atmosphere lingering in this place. "During the hunt, I mean. Did you like it?"
While the hunt itself was fair, Trey personally hid a few eggs with Riddle in mind; in flowers that broke the Unbirthday Rule, in a teapot where a dormouse should be —ah. He rifles through the stored ceramic to find the teapot they use for Unbirthdays, and fishes an egg out from inside. There it is.
"I did— though, Ace took the egg hidden in the teapot earlier." Riddle confirms, the clear spite in his voice making a smile tug at the corner of Trey's lips. Riddle's relationship with Ace reminds Trey of his with his oldest-younger sister. It's good for Riddle. He thinks. To have someone he loves despite constant annoyance.
"Well not much can be done about that." Trey says, adding the egg back to the carton. "But hey, at least that means he has the rules memorized.
"Some of them at least." Riddle admits.
The last egg is the toughest one. Riddle's room, the kitchen, the lounge, the garden; it's hard to single out the last place Riddle would count as 'Our Heartslabyul.' At this point, he's eager for his prize, and more importantly to get ready for bed. He finds his way back to Riddle, smiling sheepishly. "What do I have to do for a hint about the last one?"
Despite Riddle generally being an easy read, his expression is inscrutable for a second. And, for a moment, the threads of anxiety knit in Trey's stomach, still tied up in knots from so many years ago. Riddle angry is a terrifying thing, and Riddle angry at him is a nightmare entirely.
"Or not, haha. I mean if you don't want to." Trey laughs it off, hoping that he can nip any sudden mood shifts in its bud. Deflect. Disregard.
But, there's no outburst, there's no shifts. Trey has a bad habit of treating Riddle like decorative glass and a powder keg at the same time. For as easy as Riddle is to read, Trey still doesn't have a handle on him yet.
Instead of collaring Trey's neck for his brazen request, Riddle circles him seriously; eases the makeshift carton-basket out from beneath his arm. "A hint, then." He agrees without a second thought, then hands the carton back to Trey. "You already found it."
For a moment, Trey is just plain confused. He knows he's only collected four. Unless he's lost his mind more than he thinks. But, anyone in Heartslabyul will tell you that second guessing Riddle with anything short of certainty is a dangerous battle. So, he checks first, opening the carton to count the four he's found plus the loner that was in here when he grabbed the container in the first place. "One from your room, one from the kitchen, one from the lounge, and this one from the garden." He repeats.
"Two from the kitchen." Riddle corrects.
"Two from the kitchen…" Trey repeats not because he's grokked it yet but because when Riddle says something, he listens. "Two from the kitchen… which would mean…" He pulls the last egg from its corner and sets it to join the other four, it was part of the hunt, and Riddle had already hidden it when Trey interrupted him in the kitchen earlier. "This guy belongs here with the others; and, you lied to me." Trey gasps playfully, clutching the imaginary pearls at his neck like a Crimson City duchess.
"It's almost curfew." Riddle deflects, nonchalant. "I didn't lie to you, you simply jumped to conclusions. The egg you frisked from me preemptively was meant to be the last before you received your prize, but you had other plans."
Trey flashes Riddle a guilty grin. It's not like he could have known. And, Trey will never pass up a chance to get close to Riddle in the rare instances they can be alone. "My prize then, Your Majesty?" He prompts with a kneeling bow, holding the half filled carton up like a knight's sword.
"Well deserved." Riddle smiles, taking the offered collection as Trey's half of the exchange. "Shut your eyes then."
Of course, Trey complies. His heart jumpstarts in anticipation for what's surely to come. But, even prepared, his breath still hitches when Riddle kisses him, confident and demanding and all the things that Riddle is and always will be. Riddle's hands cup his chin, tilting it up the way Riddle wants him. Trey complies, of course. He may be physically larger and stronger than Riddle, but Riddle's presence is enough to bring him to his knees and keep him there.
"Thank you; For today, for everything really." Riddle whispers, his fingers running adoringly along Trey's jaw, his thumb tracing the ghost of Trey's lip. 'I love you."
Trey shifts upward, chasing the kiss he wasn't nearly finished with yet, and looking up at Riddle here in the dusklight. He reaches for him, his blazer, his waist, to pull him back, closer, because he's far from done. "I love you." He repeats, crawling his hands up to Riddle's back. "I love you." He recites, again, staggering to his feet, and pressing Riddle against him.
"I love you." Riddle echoes, lacing his hands behind Trey's neck like a collar Trey would kill to wear eternally. "Endlessly."