Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Holding two suitcases, one in each hand, Riddle Rosehearts felt a lump rise in his throat. He was about to go back to his house for winter break, and he didn’t quite understand why he was trembling so hard. His hands were sweatier than normal in his gloves, and he was much more absorbed in his thoughts. There was also a strange barrier between his consciousness and his surroundings, the one he experienced every single time he was near his mother, or even thinking about her.

He then noticed Trey, Cater Diamond, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Grim, and Ramshackle’s Prefect standing in front of the mirror. He didn’t have enough fight left in him to yell at them, so he simply stood and pretended not to notice them. The barrier grew thicker. He stood by until Deuce Spade noticed him, and by then the contents of the group had left his mind. In this state, his thoughts were stuck on whatever was bothering him, and refused to let go.

“Hm? Oh, it’s you boys.” He found it in himself to command just a bit of authority. “If you’re going to stand around and congregate, at least stay near a wall.”

The boys then started whispering. They knew about his upbringing, and they were certainly making sure everyone in the vicinity knew, too. Riddle Rosehearts stayed quiet. Trey then addressed him, and he made sure he responded. That was proper manners.

His voice got quieter as he responded. “Yes, you’re right. I think… I’m going to try talking with Mother some. I don’t know if she’ll listen, but even so…” His stomach tightened as he thought of confronting his mother. It felt alien to him. Going against the one figure of true power in his life… It was almost as if Riddle Rosehearts had a death wish. Perhaps he did. Anything was better than going back to her.

Then, his aquatic nightmares came true. Floyd Leech walked up to him, teasing him about his hesitation to going home, and offering a place for him to stay at Octavinelle. “I would rather gouge my eyes out with a spoon while lying on red-hot coal beds,” he thought. The fight that had left him with his thoughts earlier had returned. He was in his element—anger.

He retorted back as civilly as he could manage when he was with the monstrous moray, but when his height was cruelly made fun of, he couldn’t help but bubble over and explode. 

“I'm sorry? Would you like to say that again? You're awfully brazen to take that tone with the head of Heartslabyul. And speaking of heads, I'll have yours for this! ” His face reddened, and his voice grew louder as his anger only consumed more of his thoughts. 

Cater Diamond and Trey then pried him out of his fury, much to his dismay. The Leech twins and Housewarden Azul Ashengrotto weren’t going home because it was becoming much more treacherous, as he had learned. He almost wished he was in the same situation. Then, maybe, he wouldn’t feel this way.

He saw his chance to leave after the Leech Twins had finished their spiel, firing off one more ember of an insult before tightening the grip on his suitcases and setting off through the Magic Mirror.

When he was placed in front of the Rosehearts residence, he felt…strange. He wanted to throw up, to cry and sob and scream and run away and curse out his mother for even daring to treat him the way she did—but more so, he felt numb. His guard was higher up than it was when at Night Raven College, and that was saying a lot. He quietly knocked on the door, his face stoic, and his mind numb and fuzzy. Then, it was answered.

His mother was taller than he remembered—or, perhaps, her presence felt taller to him. She didn’t look overjoyed or even happy to see her own son, she simply welcomed him with an unceremonious, “Hello, Riddle. Come inside. We have much to discuss.” The last sentence sent a shock down his spine, even though he knew his grades were incredible. He got above full marks on every single graded piece of work without a single misstep. Without hesitation, he stepped inside, almost as if he was controlled by some outside force—or maybe, it was just muscle memory.

The feeling of his own childhood home sent a wave of incredibly uncomfortable nostalgia through his brain. He knew how to act here, how to survive, but he didn’t want to go back to his old survival skills. His old thought pattern, his old wants and needs, all of it was something he would rather be struck down than have to experience. Unluckily for Riddle Rosehearts, though, there was no threat of death.

His mother led him silently to his study room. Memories of wooden spoons and weaponized words stuck in his head like paint on a rose. She sat him down at the desk, as she’d done millions of times before, and he was now twelve again. He was eight, doing algebra. He was thirteen, learning about reproduction. He was every age, all at once, sat down while his mother taught him about everything.

“I’ve heard about your grades lately. The headmaster pointed out your work on a specific essay about the Scalding Sands.” There was no trace of praise in her voice. “Your schooling is as expected. I may have to ask the headmaster to up the difficulty of your courses.” Her mouth was kept in a thin, flat line.

“Thank you, Mother. I will continue my work, and go above the current standards I’ve set for myself.” He knew she would never be satisfied. His work was never “good,” it was “expected”. There was always a new standard, and he would never get the praise he so desperately desired. Yet, he kept trying to achieve it. Why?

Riddle Rosehearts’s mother was never one to waste studying time. He was thrown into studying for hours, until nine-forty-five at night. Then, he showered, brushed his teeth, and changed into his pajamas. At ten, he was expected to be in bed.

As he lay in bed, he felt all the emotions he’d been holding back rush to his mind again. Tears welled up in his eyes. As tears dropped, and cries turned into sobs, his stomach churned. He must have cried for an hour before he felt vomit rise in the back of his throat. Then, he quickly and quietly walked to the bathroom, heaving into the toilet. He used a small cup of water to rid himself of the aftertaste of bile, and flushed the evidence of his crying session. 

As he walked back, he remembered the fact he now had a phone, one his mother wasn’t aware of, and he could use that to contact someone who could help him. He would get torn into if he was caught using it, of course, but his mother never bothered to come into his room at night. He quickly opened Magicam and clicked on Trey’s contact. Cater Diamond, Trey, and Che’nya were friended on his account, but he didn’t trust Cater enough, and he knew Che’nya wouldn’t be up, or he’d be busy. He spent five minutes crafting the perfect message for Trey, and before he sent it, read it over once more.

“Trey, I am terribly sorry to bother you at this hour, but I require assistance. I don’t know exactly what I need, but I’d appreciate talking to you as we figure out further plans. Well wishes, Riddle Rosehearts.” It was perfect. He sent the message, and two minutes later, Trey responded.

“Of course! If you need to talk, I’m here. You can also come to see me at the pâtisserie if you’d like.” The last part of Trey’s message piqued his curiosity, and Riddle Rosehearts was always one to learn as much as he could about things that interested him. He spent three minutes writing another text.

“Come to your home? How would I do that?” He couldn’t help but imagine ways to escape. If he could spend the night with Trey, he would escape the wrath of his mother. Trey quickly responded.

“You know how to get out of your house without being seen. I’ll wait at the door.” Trey’s forthcoming demeanor had slightly caught him off guard. Riddle, without a second thought, then walked as quietly as he could to his study room.

He felt like a mischievous little kid again, sneaking out to see his friend. A small smile adorned his lips as he cracked open the window and expertly climbed down to the grass. From there, it was only a few blocks to Trey’s house, to freedom and peace.

When he got to the Clovers’ home, he quietly knocked on the door, and Trey opened it almost immediately. His hair was a bit ruffled, and his pajama shirt had two buttons undone. Riddle couldn’t help but notice. Of course, Riddle Rosehearts noticed everything, but he was more interested than he should have been in the undone buttons on his childhood friend’s shirt. He was then snapped out of his thoughts by Trey’s familiar voice.

“Hey, Riddle. Come in, I made you some tea and saved you a tart.” Trey led him in with a gentleness and warmth that was completely alien to him. He’d never been inside a friend’s home before. It was so warm and welcoming and homey , while his own living space was so clinical and uptight it was more accurately called a residence than anything else. Barely a house, never a home.

Trey sat him down at the kitchen table, much like his mother did in his study room, but Trey’s direction was filled with a sense of sincerity and warmth that he had barely felt before. Trey looked at him with kindness in his eyes and a small smile on his face as Riddle drank the tea and ate his tart. He’d never eaten this late in the night before, but he needed it.

Once he was finished with his snack, he pushed the mug and plate slightly toward Trey. His eyes were still red and a bit puffy, but the taste of vomit in his mouth had gone away. Trey always knew how to cheer Riddle up. Trey took the dishes from him and left them to soak in the sink overnight with all the pâtisserie’s other dirty dishes. Trey then turned back to him, speaking as he walked back to his chair.

“Did you like the tart? It’s a new recipe I made today—” Trey checked the time on his phone— “Well, technically, yesterday.” It had already gotten quite late for him. He would sleep in if he didn’t have to get up early to rush to his mother’s residence. He hoped he wouldn’t have eye bags from lack of sleep.

“It was incredible as always, Trey. So was the tea.” He let himself smile softly as he propped his head up on the table with his arms. “I’m so full, I’m getting kind of sleepy…” His arms sagged slightly,   lowering his face.

“Why don’t we go to bed? I don’t have a spare bedroom, so I guess we’ll just share a bed.” Trey’s cheeks turned a shade of sweet, almost unseeable pink. Riddle subconsciously compared them to baby pink roses. It complimented the rest of his appearance unexpectedly—well, there he went again, overanalyzing Trey. Riddle Rosehearts truly noticed everything.

“Alright. As long as you don’t snore, drool, or talk in your sleep. Then, it will be off with your head.” He felt a need to command power and authority even in this situation. He looked up at Trey with a slight glare, yet, when he saw that Trey wasn’t returning the gesture, his gaze softened.

“Don’t worry! I’ll make sure you can sleep comfortably. You can trust me on that.” Trey grinned and stood up, gesturing for him to follow.

Riddle nodded and followed Trey to his room. He noticed all sorts of items around Trey’s room, such as figurines, posters, and other decorations. He never got toys as a child, and he never had anything in his bedroom besides a bed, books, clothes, and an alarm clock. All the walls were barren, and the colors were limited to grayscale and brown. Trey’s room, and Trey’s house in general, though… it felt like something that had personality. It was a home. Things were out of place, it wasn’t perfect, but maybe that was the point.

After Trey laid down in bed, Riddle laid down next to him, facing toward the door. He’d never slept in a bed with somebody else before, not even with his mother. It was the crib, then a room of his own. He had to admit, having someone next to him made sleeping seem more enjoyable. It was vulnerable, sure, and Riddle Rosehearts wasn’t vulnerable, but he was too tired to care. He quickly told Trey to wake him up at five-thirty the next morning, and he agreed.

“Goodnight,” Trey muttered, and Riddle echoed the same back to him. He could have sworn Trey said something after that, but he couldn’t make out any words. His eyelids drooped almost immediately. Crying really did take a lot of energy out of him, and so did sneaking out. With that, he drifted off to sleep. His barrier had finally disappeared.

Chapter Text

When Riddle Rosehearts woke up, he immediately felt warmth. He felt warm, grounded, and safe . As he grew more aware of his surroundings, he realized that Trey was behind him, wrapping his arms around his midsection. He turned slightly to see that Trey’s eyes were slightly cracked open.

“You’re up. You had a nightmare last night, so I did this to try and help. Sorry about that.” Trey’s arms moved off Riddle’s midsection, and he felt a cold sting around his waist. He debated for a second whether to ask Trey to keep doing whatever that was, but immediately accepted the thought with the notion that he could wave it off as grogginess.

“… Put those back. I’m cold now.” He grabbed Trey’s arms—flexibility came in handy sometimes—and put them back around his waist. He was so tired that he almost drifted back to sleep, but Trey squeezed him to keep him up. Trey let go of him shortly after and stood up, excusing himself to make breakfast.

He curled up in the blankets and thought about his nightmare, which he hadn’t cared to remember until now. His mother had beaten him badly and then locked him in a room until he starved to death. At the end of his dream, he was frail, begging nobody for just a sip of water or just a bite of food. It was terrifying. His mother would never do that, though, of course. The most she did was beat him a few times when he was younger, and that was normal. It was how he learned discipline.

Trey came back about ten minutes later with a tray containing a plate of eggs and toast and a glass of water. It was a basic breakfast, but it looked delicious. “This is incredible! Thank you so much, Trey,” Riddle exclaimed. He took the tray and quickly took a bite of the eggs, along with a bite of the toast. It was the best thing he’d eaten since he’d gone back to his residence, but he hadn’t eaten anything before that, so it was a low bar.

“I’m glad you like it. I’m pretty sure I might have burnt the toast a bit, so sorry about that.” The toast wasn’t burnt, at least not to him. Anything Trey cooked was amazing. “Please take your time waking up. You had a hard day yesterday, so you deserve time to relax. Actually…” Trey glanced at the clock. “On second thought, you have to leave in fifteen minutes. I’m so sorry, Riddle. You can come back at any time, okay? I’ll be waiting every night, so text me if you can’t make it.” He shifted his weight to the left slightly.

Riddle’s stomach turned at the prospect of going back to his mother’s home. Last night with Trey was so comforting, he never wanted to go back. He knew he had to, though. “Alright. I’ll get up as soon as I finish my meal. It takes five minutes to get from your house to yours, so I probably won’t be able to properly enjoy your meal.” He picked up the pace with his eating. Trey’s cooking was so good, it felt like a crime not to savor it, but this was important.

He finished the meal five minutes later and stood up, taking time to make sure his hair wasn’t incredibly tousled or that he didn’t have noticeable eye-bags. He fixed some stray hairs and walked over to the kitchen, where Trey was making his breakfast. He took a moment before he left to talk to Trey. Rule 143 stated you had to say goodbye to your hosts before departure, after all.

“Trey, thank you. You…you helped a lot. I have to go now, but if all goes well, I should be back tonight. I’ll text you if I can’t make it.” He waited until a moment when Trey’s hands weren’t full and pulled him in for a hug. His slightly toned figure wrapped around Riddle’s in a way that seemed too familiar. He’d hugged him a few times before, but this time felt different. He let himself linger in Trey’s embrace for what felt like hours, then pulled away and waved as he exited the pâtisserie.

As Riddle walked back to his residence, he felt empty. His stomach dropped, and he still felt like he was about to pass out. He didn’t understand why he felt this way. It terrified him. At even the thought of being back there, that barrier appeared again. He felt detached from his surroundings, like he was a consciousness remote-controlling his own body. 

As he rounded the final corner, he became numb again. His head buzzed and slight jolts of memories disoriented him. He quickly scaled the building using easy footholds he’d found last night and slipped into bed five minutes before his alarm. His mother met him in the dining room without any knowledge that he’d been out. Everything was alright.

For the next few days, in fact, every day until the second-to-last day before the end of his break, Riddle Rosehearts’s routine continued. He studied with his mother, snuck out to Trey’s house for the night, and all was well. As time went on, with many pep talks from Trey, he’d gained enough confidence to talk to his mother about her unreasonable expectations. When he crawled into bed that morning, he knew what he was going to do. He was going to confront her, no matter how she’d react.

When his mother set him up for studies at seven A.M sharp, he saw his opportunity. While she was reviewing her lesson plans and getting the necessary textbooks, worksheets, and tests, he took the time to think. He would start with a simple, “Mother, I need to talk to you about something.” Then, he would tell her that her rules were unfair, and hurting him. It was simple.

She finally came back five minutes later. Riddle looked at her, took a deep breath, and spoke. “Mother, I need to talk to you about something,” he said with an even tone. He hadn’t stumbled on his words once yet, so it was already going better than expected. With no response from the woman in front of him, he continued. 

“Your rules are much too strict. I am outstanding in the academic field, but I have no social experience. How do you expect me to get a job as a doctor and see patients all day when I can’t even talk to them normally? You need to give me more than academic exposure. It’s critical to my development.”

His mother took a deep breath and glared at him harder than she’d ever glared at him before. “Are you becoming rebellious, Riddle? I thought better of you.” She stood up and loomed over him, making him almost cry on the spot. 

“I can’t believe you. I made so many sacrifices to give you the best life possible. I had to reduce my work hours. Do you know how much I pay in tuition for your college? And not to mention, your father left because of you. It was all your fault. So, for the love of the Seven, don’t try to tell me I’m a bad mother. I’m doing everything right.”

“But Mom, I don’t have the best life! Do you know how stressed I am all the time? Do you even know what I’ve gone through because of you? This must be why Father left!” Riddle stood up to be on a similar level to his mother, but it didn’t do much. He was tearing up at this point. It was all too much for poor Riddle, who can’t handle criticism.

His mother then slapped him. It made a sharp sound that rang in his ears and an even sharper pain that coursed through his body. Of course, his mother had sharp, long nails, too. He felt blood running down his face. He screamed, and his mother grabbed him by the hair. She pulled him to the wall, and repeatedly rammed his head into it. With every slam came a new insult from his mother and a new scream of pain from Riddle. He tried to flail, to escape, to just get her away , but she only kicked and punched him back in place. 

When he felt blood mix with hair and his vision clouding, he knew he had to get away, or else, this could be his end. He couldn’t get out no matter how hard he tried. When he noticed his mother holding a blast of fire energy, ready to disfigure him, no doubt, he knew what he had to do. “OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!” he shrieked, and his mother fell back in shock. He took this time to escape, running as fast as his battered limbs could carry him to Trey’s house. He pounded on the door, smudging it with a bit of blood, and screamed Trey’s name. 

Trey came running to the door as quickly as he could, instructing his family to stay away, and that this was a private matter. Riddle could barely hear anything, but he vaguely heard Trey shout for bandages. He heard Trey repeatedly whisper affirmations to him, telling him not to give up, to not let go, and that if he could just please hold on for five minutes, he’d get him all fixed up .

It was only fifteen minutes before he was mostly back to his senses. He was lying in Trey’s bed, propped up, with bandages applied tightly on all of his wounds. He felt matted, bloody hair on his head, and dried blood on his face. In fact, there was blood everywhere, even some on the bedsheets. He called out to Trey as best as he could manage, but his voice was dimmed from how raw his throat had become. Trey ran in with a cup of water, squeezing his shoulder as he handed him the cup.

“Oh my Seven, Riddle, I thought you were dead! You were so beaten up, and I just—“ Trey cut himself off. “Your mother must have done that to you, didn’t she… She’s a bitch .” Riddle Rosehearts flinched at the swear, but couldn’t help but smile. Trey wasn’t one to swear, so he must have been furious at his mother. He pulled Trey in for a hug and held him there for as long as possible. He then took a big sip of his water and ended up drinking the whole glass in one go.

“Hold on, let me get you a refill.” Trey smiled and took his glass. When he came back, he sat on the edge of the bed and handed Riddle the glass of water once more. He sighed and shifted his posture forward. “Riddle…can you tell me more about what happened, please? I—I’m really worried about you.”

Riddle Rosehearts sighed. “I…uh…my mother and I got into a fight. I tried to confront her, like I was telling you before. She…um…she…” He trailed off and curled up in his bedsheets. Shocks of pain were sent through him as he moved. His head was still foggy, and his mind was racing. “She’s probably looking for me. What do I do?” He turned his head toward Trey.

“Well, I’d suggest going back and taking the collar off. She’ll only continue to fight physically if you don’t. She’d hopefully have calmed down by then.” He shifted and stared at the clock. “Poor Riddle, it was only 7:30 in the morning, and he was almost beaten half to death,” Trey thought. The thought of Riddle sustaining any more injuries sent a shock down Trey’s spine. They’d been friends for years, and he couldn’t let his childhood friend die at only seventeen.

“I…I’ll go back at eight, okay? I just need to rest a bit. I don’t think I can walk all that way yet.” He sighed and crossed his arms. The pain was dimming slightly. Trey got up quickly to get him ice packs for the bruises on his head and returned in what must have been less than thirty seconds. Trey was doting on him in an alien way, even more so than what he was doing before.

Trey put the ice pack between him and the pillow. “Alright. Take your time, Riddle.” Trey sadly smiled as he looked at Riddle. He questioned if one of his family members would come in and interrupt their time together, but they were respectful of privacy when they needed to be.

As the minutes passed by, Trey and Riddle Rosehearts made idle chatter, but they both seemed to avoid the root of the problem. Riddle Rosehearts’s literal and metaphorical wounds were both fresh, and Trey wasn’t good at handling these situations. He was more of the type to ignore things against his better judgment than to take action.

When the clock struck eight, Riddle Rosehearts reluctantly got out of bed. Trey advised him to stay longer, but he was the type to take action. He left Trey’s house, his wounds still seeping blood into his bandages, but his head was raised high. That façade dropped immediately when he got out of sight, though. In truth, he was terrified to go back. He didn’t want to face his mother after such a brutal beating.

Still, he walked to the door. When he knocked, his mother opened the door and roughly shoved him inside. “Off with this. Now,” she said sharply. Riddle Rosehearts obeyed without a word, taking the collar off. She let out a sigh of relief before pulling him up to his room. “As punishment, you will stay here until the end of your winter break. Do not try to get out of this, Rosehearts.” He could do nothing but sniffle and nod as he was thrown into his room, his new dungeon.

Of course, his first idea was to check his phone. He tried to turn the device on, but the battery had died. He couldn’t even tell Trey what happened. Then it hit him. He hadn’t had any food since he got up. He had none in his room. He was going to starve. Seven, just like his nightmare, he was going to starve and he was going to die and—

His spiraling thoughts manifested as tears. Soon, he was sobbing like a toddler. He punched the ground once in anger, but as pain coursed through his arm, he recoiled and made a mental note not to do that. He looked around and spotted scissors on his room’s table. In his hopeless, hungry daze, he had an idea.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven— they kept appearing. Bruised, empty, it didn’t matter. It was all the same to a scared, scarred child. He wrapped extra bandages from his torso around his new annoyances. It felt good. It gave him something to focus on. He then went to bed. If he didn’t want to go insane, he would sleep.

Riddle slept for hours until the sound of his stomach woke him up. It only served to further remind him that he had no food. He ignored it and fell asleep again. This cycle only repeated until the pangs of hunger kept him doubled over. He went to his door and begged his mother to give him food, but there was no answer.

He survived off of crumbs until he finally succumbed to hunger, passing out on the floor. Only then did his mother find him, shoveling food into his mouth. He woke up to his mother muttering about his incompetence. He cried, but nothing came out. He was desolated, half-dead, and felt like a ghost. For the next half of a day, he was left with a small supply of food and water to survive on.

When he was let out, it felt like heaven. He had gone half-insane being stuck in the room, and being outside felt almost unreal. His mother sent him off with a curt goodbye as he was pushed through the portal.

Chapter Text

When he crashed through, he immediately found Trey and clung to him. He sobbed when he found his childhood friend, who was equally relieved to see him. “Oh my Seven— Oh, Riddle, what in the world happened to you? You look like a ghost!” Trey held Riddle as he cried into his shirt. With his extra strength, he moved them back to Heartslabyul, then to Riddle’s room. “Let it all out, Rosey. It’s okay. I’ll keep you safe.” He rocked back and forth, soothing Riddle like he’d been taught to do.

Riddle relaxed at the use of his old nickname. He stumbled and fell onto his bed, letting out a small oof as his weak body hit the mattress. “Trey…can you get me some food and water, please?” He trembled as he waited for what felt like an eternity for Trey to answer. When Trey nodded and immediately brought him a tart, he almost cried from happiness. He devoured the tart as quickly as he could get it in his mouth while Trey got him a large cup of water.

This continued for a long time; the cycle of Trey bringing food and water while Riddle incinerated it. He hadn’t eaten in days, and Trey’s food always tasted incredible, but this was the best food he’d ever eaten. When Riddle proclaimed he was full, Trey took the chance to assess his condition. He walked over to his bedside and rolled Riddle’s sleeves up.

“You need new bandages really badly. Hold on, I have some in my room.” Trey quickly ran to his room and came back with a large roll of bandages. He helped Riddle up as they walked to the bathroom. “Okay, I’m going to change your bandages now, alright? It might hurt a little.”

Trey slowly started unwrapping Riddle’s bandages, starting with his head. He took the time to gently wash out new blood clumps in his hair, then moved to his arms and chest. He winced at the orderly cuts he found on Riddle’s skin, but knew better than to bring it up right then. He moved to Riddle’s legs, and with that, his bandages were off. With every bandage he removed, a fresh one was put on—with the utmost care, of course.

When Trey was done, he walked Riddle back to his bed. “If there’s anything you need, tell me, okay? I’ll stay here to make sure you’re safe. Classes start later today so that people can settle into their dorms again.” Trey cuddled up to him, making sure he wasn’t lying on any of his cuts or bruises.

Riddle nodded softly and rested his head on Trey’s shoulder, letting himself finally relax. He was finally able to let his guard down after two weeks of winter break. With half-lidded eyes, he looked up at the man who’d stuck with him all his life. Despite his flaws, Trey was still with him, and he appreciated that more than Trey would ever know. Riddle felt his cheeks turn a rosy pink. Suddenly, he realized what was going on. He was in love with Trey.

Riddle looked up at Trey’s, whose cheeks were a similar shade to his own. “… Trey. I have to tell you something. I believe you should know.” He swallowed the lump in his throat as he tried to figure out how to tell his childhood friend he was in love with him. He ended up moving his face close to Trey’s, as his hand almost subconsciously slipped around Trey’s waist.

“I love you. Can I kiss you?” Riddle breathed, and when Trey nodded, he gave him a quick kiss. It wasn’t anything special, if anything, it was short and awkward. Still, when Riddle pulled away, their faces were both decorated with sprinkles of red, and they both had dorky smiles.

“Wow…I…uh…Riddle…” Trey ran a hand through his hair, pulling the shorter boy closer. “I love you too. I have for a while, actually. I didn’t get to say that before.” He pressed a peck to Riddle’s forehead and cupped his face.

“Th—that’s cool.” Riddle didn’t exactly know how to respond, but he was shaking his leg in excitement. They stayed like that until classes started, just holding each other, with the silence broken occasionally with random thoughts. 

Then, it was clear to him. Riddle Rosehearts had died in that room. Only Riddle remained, and he was okay with that.

When the weather warmed, it was, again, time for a break. Riddle had many long talks with Trey about the next time he’d see his mother, and he was less scared this time. Just like before, he gripped his suitcase with slightly sweaty hands. That barrier still remained, and he was still trembling. This time, though, he knew why. His mother had hurt him, and he was affected by it. And that was okay.

The same group of boys from before stood congregating in front of the mirror. He heard Ace make a remark on his different demeanor. He was prepared now, and everyone could tell. Floyd came up, as usual, and he snapped at him, but some things never change.

Trey walked up and gave him a hug before he left the school, and made Riddle promise to text him. He had brought a phone charger this time, and packed food in his bag, just like his boyfriend advised. If he was going to face hell, he needed some sort of protection.

As he stepped through the mirror, he forced himself to stay strong. He had learned and grown so much, and he knew he was going to face difficulty, but he was going to be okay. Three months don’t change very much, but they changed enough for Riddle.

Finally, Riddle knew how to handle himself. Before, he could do little but get angry or cry, but this time, if he did, he would come out stronger. It wouldn’t happen immediately, but he had started, and that was enough.

Riddle was dropped in front of his mother’s residence once more. She led him inside, and he followed her orders, but he subtly rebelled. He used a blue pen when he was supposed to use a black pen, doodled on the margins of his work, and asked for seconds when he was done with his meal.

The Rose had finally bloomed.