Chapter Text
Edith had stormed out, her pride and ego clearly bruised. She didn’t even bother saying goodbye to Principal Crowley.
Riddle just felt drained.
He offered a weary apology to Principal Crowley for being dragged into unnecessary family drama, then quietly took his leave.
By the time Riddle got back to the dorms, Tery and Cater were waiting near the entrance. Tery was the first to spot him and quickly hurried to his side, with Cater following close behind.
“Are you okay?” Tery asked, concern etched across his face. “You were gone for a long time.”
Riddle couldn’t help himself; his eyes were already starting to gloss over with tears. Cater’s expression shifted to one of alarm. “How ’bout we talk about this in your room?” he suggested gently, quickly ushering them inside.
By the time they made it to Riddle’s room, Riddle was shaking. He dropped his things to the floor, sank onto the couch, and buried his face in his hands. And then he cried.
He didn’t care if it was unbecoming. He didn’t care if it made him look weak. He cried.
He cried and cried, because if he wasn’t crying, he might’ve screamed, or shouted, or broken something just to feel like he had some control.
Somewhere in the middle of it all, he felt Trey wrap his arms around him, pulling him close in a steady, grounding hug. Cater sat beside him, quiet but present, resting a hand on his shoulder in silent support.
Neither of them said anything for a while. They just stayed with him, quiet and steady, until Riddle finally managed to get a handle on his breathing. His sobs dwindled down to soft sniffles.
He wiped his face with the sleeve of his uniform. “My mother threatened to disown me,” he said quietly.
Trey’s voice came out low and sharp. “She what?”
“That wench!” Cater burst out, jumping to his feet, eyes wide with disbelief. “Oh, when I get my hands on her—” he growled, pacing back and forth in front of them like a storm about to break.
Trey had shifted onto the couch beside Riddle and pulled him closer, holding him tight.
“What even happened?” he asked, carefully. “I know you were called to the principal’s office, but… what happened?”
Riddle bit his lip hard. “She found out about me and Floyd,” he said, voice shaky. “I don’t even know how.”
Cater froze mid-step.
“I thought we were being careful,” Riddle went on, rubbing the tears from his eyes. His voice cracked. “We were being careful.”
“I—I need to tell you something,” Cater said hesitantly, his voice losing its usual lightness. He finally stopped pacing and sat back down on the couch. His knee bounced anxiously.
He reached out, gently taking Riddle’s hand like he was afraid he might pull away. “I meant to tell you earlier, I swear. Please don’t be mad at me.”
Riddle tensed, his stomach already knotting up. “What is it?” he asked, cautious, every worst-case scenario racing to the front of his mind.
Cater winced. “I… accidentally posted a picture. You and Floyd were in the background. Kissing.”
For a second, the room tilted.
Riddle’s ears started ringing—sharp and loud, like someone had smacked the side of his head. “You what..?”
“I didn’t realize!” Cater rushed out, eyes wide and frantic. “You were way in the back, and I wasn’t even thinking—I was just trying to post a cute selfie! Someone pointed it out in the comments and I immediately deleted it, but…” His voice trailed off. “It must’ve been too late.”
Riddle stared at him, numb, his brain scrambling to catch up. He suddenly felt very cold and very hot at the same time.
“I’m so sorry, Riddle,” Cater whispered, gripping his hand like it might stop him from falling apart. “I didn’t mean to out you. I swear I didn’t even notice. I never would’ve posted it if I had.”
Trey’s jaw clenched. He didn’t say anything, but Riddle could feel the shift in the air — protective and tense, like a rope pulled taut. Cater looked like he was about to cry himself.
Riddle finally tore his eyes away and stared at the floor. “That’s how she found out,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “That’s how everyone back home found out.”
He could already picture it—Edith scrolling through her phone with that awful, tight-lipped expression, the click of her nails against the screen, the disapproving silence that always came before the storm.
And the storm had come. Full force.
“I’m sorry,” Cater said again, quieter this time. His voice was thick with guilt, barely holding itself together.
Riddle took in a shaky breath, then another, trying to steady himself. His fingers trembled as he looked down at their joined hands—Cater’s grip so gentle, like he was afraid of breaking him. And then, slowly, Riddle squeezed back.
Because it had been a mistake. A stupid, painful mistake.
But an honest one.
It stung—of course it did. His chest still felt raw, like someone had carved open something he hadn’t meant to share. But Cater… he wasn’t cruel. He didn’t move through the world with malice. That wasn’t who he was.
“It’s—” Not fine. It wasn’t fine. Nothing about this was fine. But nothing ever was with Edith. If it hadn’t been this, it would’ve been something else. Some other way for her to twist his life into a weapon.
“She would’ve found out eventually,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “She always does.”
Cater’s eyes were glossy, red around the edges. Trey shifted beside them and placed a firm, steady hand on Riddle’s back.
“It’ll be alright,” Riddle said at last, his voice thin but steady. “I’m cutting contact with her anyway.”
That made both Cater and Trey freeze.
“You—wait, hold on,” Cater said, eyes wide. “You’re what?”
“Okay, back up,” Trey added, his tone serious now. “Just… explain exactly what happened in the principal’s office.”
Riddle let out a slow, uneven breath, like even breathing hurt. But he told them.
He told them everything—how Edith had been in the principal’s office with that tight smile and venom-laced voice, demanding that Principal Crowley discipline him for his relationships. How she called dating Floyd inappropriate, scandalous, shameful. How she hadn’t even looked at him when she said it.
He told them how, for all his usual buffoonery, Crowley hadn’t caved. How Edith had tried to corner him anyway, manipulating and threatening him—saying she’d disown him.
And then he told them how he’d called his father. How he’d told him the truth. How his father had listened, quietly... and, shockingly, agreed to back him.
They struck a deal: Riddle would still inherit the Rosehearts fortune, with his father’s support. Edith would be cut out of the conversation entirely.
By the time Riddle finished, he sounded completely wrung out.
They sat in silence for a while.
Cater stared at him like he’d grown a second head. Trey hadn’t blinked in a minute.
Finally, Trey let out a breath. “Damn,” he said quietly. “You really did all that?”
Riddle gave a single nod. “She left after that. Stormed out. Didn’t even say goodbye to the principal.”
Cater flopped back against the couch, stunned. “I mean—I knew you were strong, but damn, Riddle. That’s… That’s a lot.”
Riddle rubbed his eyes again. His voice came out soft. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“You did,” Trey said gently. “You chose to protect yourself. That’s brave.”
Cater reached out and took his hand. “I’m proud of you, Riddle. Seriously. We’ve got your back, okay? No matter what she says. No matter who sees what. We’re not going anywhere.”
“I–I thank you,” Riddle said, a small, shaky smile tugging at his lips.
Cater insisted they needed a chill evening to wind down after everything Riddle had been through.
“Movie night,” he declared, already halfway out the door. He was heading to his own room to grab supplies—and, importantly, some extra clothes. Because he’d remembered that Riddle didn’t own any actual lounge wear, and there was no way he was letting him watch movies in a stiff dorm uniform.
Trey had agreed without hesitation, saying he’d handle the snacks. Before leaving, he gently told Riddle to go take a shower while they got everything ready.
“No arguments,” he added with a small smile. “You’ve earned it.”
Riddle felt a quiet warmth settle in his chest at how considerate they were being. Without protest, he went to take a shower.
He turned the water to its hottest setting and stepped under the stream, letting it pour over him like a blanket. The heat soaked into his skin, washing away the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his chest, the remnants of the day clinging to him like smoke.
By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, the extra clothes Cater had promised were neatly spelled onto his counter. Riddle dried off and quickly changed into them. They fit perfectly—of course they did. Cater must’ve charmed them to his exact size.
He felt a flicker of gratitude… even if the outfit was a little too cutesy for his taste.
The pajamas were Hello Kitty-themed: the pants were covered in full-body Hello Kitty prints, while the top was a soft pink with just the iconic bow and logo printed across the chest.
Still, they were comfortable. And warm. And—begrudgingly—kind of cute.
Before he stepped out of the bathroom, his phone pinged with a notification.
We’re Adults 😭😭
so no head: lol not Riddle getting called into the principal's office before me
im in danger: I hope everything's okay, Riddle!!
There were a couple more messages from the now third-years’ group chat, but his screen was locked, so he couldn’t see the rest.
He sighed softly and set the phone aside. He’d deal with it later.
“Ohh, you’re just so cute!” Cater exclaimed the moment Riddle stepped out of the restroom.
Without missing a beat, he grabbed Riddle’s arm and led him toward the bed. “Sit. We’re watching The Princess Bride,” he announced with a grin that dared anyone to argue.
Riddle hesitated. He didn’t love the idea of crumbs in his sheets, or movie snacks getting everywhere, but… he supposed, just this once, it would be fine.
With a small sigh, he climbed into the bed.
Trey was already there, setting out snacks with practiced care like he was organizing a tea tray.
Cater climbed in after him, his laptop already loaded up and ready to go.
They nestled together beneath a blanket, the soft glow of the screen lighting up their little fort of comfort. Trey handed around snacks—nothing too messy, out of respect for Riddle’s sheets—and they all settled in, the warmth of quiet friendship filling the room.
The movie played on, a whimsical escape full of sword fights, true love, and ridiculous quotable lines. Riddle found himself relaxing more than he thought possible. Trey was a steady presence at his side, and Cater kept gasping at dramatic moments and making commentary that made him laugh through his nose. It felt... safe.
Then, halfway through the movie, Riddle’s phone rang.
All three of them flinched at the sudden noise. They’d been so caught up in the film that the sound cut through the room like a knife.
“Sorry, that’s mine,” Riddle said quickly, reaching for his phone on the nightstand.
“Who is it?” Trey asked.
Cater leaned over his shoulder to peek.
The name on the screen made all of them go still.
Mother.
No one moved. They just sat there, watching the phone ring.
“Open your phone,” Cater said, breaking the silence.
Riddle hesitated—but he trusted Cater. Slowly, he unlocked it.
In a flurry of motion, Cater snatched it from his hands. “Hey, wait!” Riddle protested.
But it was too late. Cater’s fingers flew across the screen, and in under thirty seconds, he declared cheerfully, “And blocked!”
He handed the phone back with a proud grin.
Riddle stared at the screen, blinking in confusion—until he saw it. Cater had blocked Edith’s number.
A strange mix of emotions washed over him: relief, guilt, disbelief… but mostly, a quiet sense of finality.
“It’s for the best,” Trey said gently, taking the phone from Riddle’s hands and powering it off.
“Let’s just enjoy the movie.”
Riddle let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He curled a little deeper beneath the blanket, letting himself sink into the warmth between his friends.
Cater pressed play again, and the movie picked up right where it had left off—soft music, sword fights, a ridiculous prince yelling “Inconceivable!”—and Riddle actually smiled.
He wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring, but right now, here in this bed with the people who loved him, he felt safe.
And that was enough.