splitmemory | riddle/cater shenanigans

Why did it feel like Cater was going to say something else? That he changed what he was going to say, got distracted-- it didn't matter, not really. Riddle was distracted as it was, focused up on Cater to keep himself steady, fingers tangled in the fabric of his jacket as tightly as they could be to keep himself up.

How do you feel? That question was so difficult to answer, to put into words that made sense in the moment. With another move, another push forward, they're moving - shaky, sure, but he's managing, moving with Cater on the ice with his 'lead'.

"... Happy." Riddle finally answers, pulling one of his hands back from Cater on instinct to adjust his scarf, hiding such a silly smile behind it.

His ankles hurt. His knees felt like they were going to give out any minute. His whole body ached something dull and painful. His face burns, body felt unnaturally warm. It's so difficult to focus, to keep himself up, to relax his breathing, to calm his pounding heart.

Still, he felt happy, no matter how distracting all these feelings were.

Cater feels like his heart is lifting up in his chest with that one little word: happy. Riddle was red-faced from the cold and clearly not at all comfortable on the ice...but he was doing it, and he was having fun. It was exactly what he had hoped for. More than he expected, if he's being honest. It feels good.

"I'm happy, too," he says in a small voice, as if confiding a secret.

All the while, he keeps directing them on the ice, slow and steady, not wanting to push Riddle anywhere past his comfort zone.

"Let me know if you need a break, okay?"

A break. That... is probably something Riddle should have asked for sooner. His hold on Cater slips ever so slightly, enough that it causes a momentary panic to flutter in his chest again. His hands grasp at the other boy again, grabbing at his chest in an attempt to steady himself.

"H-- Hey... I'm..." Dizzy. Everything was catching up at once, hitting him like a truck due to all the exerted energy, the struggle he was trying to push down so far.
It's one movement, one push forward, and Riddle is collapsing against Cater, unable to hold himself up. Unable to even grasp at him to try and steady himself.

His body falls against the taller teen's weakly, like a rag doll. If Cater weren't fast enough, he'd end up collapsing onto the ice as a whole.

This will, probably, not teach Riddle not to push himself too hard.

"W-Whoa--hey--"

Luckily, Cater does manage to catch Riddle, first as he slips, working to steady him, but then realizing that he's going down, loops his arms underneath the smaller teen's to keep him on his feet, cradled against him. He looks around in a panic, trying to figure out what to do. He's not weak, but it's still a lot of weight to keep in on himself when he's trying to keep them both upright on the ice

"Okay, um, stay with me." The sentiment seems almost more for himself as he carefully inches them both back to solid ground. If he wasn't wearing ice skates, he'd have just picked Riddle up completely. As it is, it feels like it takes ages to get back to the park bench to sit Riddle down, and he's definitely broken out into a sweat underneath his clothes.

"Riddle, are you okay? Tell me what happened."

It's impossible for Riddle to keep himself up, or to even focus on Cater's words. His hands grasp as tightly as they can against him, which... really wasn't much, his hold weak, staggering. Riddle's breathing comes out in heavy puffs, even as he's cradled against Cater.

The time in between his collapse and them managing to get to the park bench felt like ages.

His focus doesn't return even as he's sat down, his gaze hazy and unfocused. With a shaky hand, Riddle tugs off one of his gloves, before pressing his hand against his head, trying to steady his swirling vision. Why couldn't he handle it a little more? For just a little longer, to push down these feelings, to push himself a little harder? The day had been so perfect until he crumbled under his own weakness.

"I'm-- fine." Riddle finally manages out, even if that was obviously not the case. He can feel the frustration building, the tears stinging at his eyes, for even a second.

No, I don't want to be this weak. I want to--!!

His body was shaking, he could feel that much. His hand falls down to cover his mouth as he clears his throat. He avoids Cater's gaze completely, shoulders tense.

Cater rubs his hands together to rid some of the chill from his palms before he presses one to Riddle's forehead. In his head, he sweats, an uncharacteristic frown falling over his face, brow pinched together. You're warm, he had said earlier. Now, he's realizing just how stupid he'd been. Completely blind to everything but his own ideas of how the day should go.

"You're not fine. You're burning up."

Had he been feeling sick all day? Is that why he hadn't had any appetite, earlier? Cater was glad, at least, that he'd convinced Riddle to eat, but they never should've gone out if he was feeling like this, especially not with it being so cold.

"You should be resting. Let's get you back to the dorm, okay?"

He hurries to start undoing those heavy skates from Riddle's feet. It'll be more comfortable, at least, not to feel like he has cement blocks weighing him down.

Damn it all. Riddle had hoped desperately, stupidly, to keep this hidden under lock and key. To avoid Cater finding out at all. If he had to find out how he'd been feeling, why couldn't it have been later, once they were already on their way back to Heartslabyul?

The hand against his forehead would be slapped away if he'd been able to react fast enough, to try in vain to avoid the inevitable.

"I don't need to rest--" Riddle snaps, but he can't actually bring himself to be all that harsh with Cater when it hit him so hard. He's unable to stop the other boy from undoing the skates. Even if he felt better in the next minute, he's sure he wouldn't be able to go back out there.

One of his hands, the one he'd taken the glove off of, reaches at Cater, trying to stop his hands for a second, to get him to pay attention to him.

"I don't want to go. If we do--"
"Today ends. I don't want that."

Even with their promised plans to come back out here another time during break, the words are choked out, in a whine that's all too childish coming from the Housewarden. How could he want today to end? When they'd been so close, when he felt so many new things in one day--...

It pisses him off to no end. Not at Cater, not at Cater at all.

...oh.

Cater stops what he's doing to look up at Riddle, letting loose a huff. He doesn't smile, but his expression softens. Almost like a knight taking the hand of a royal, he takes that small, too warm hand in his own and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

"It's not over. When we get back home, I'll think of something else for us to do--so you can still have fun while you rest."

He didn't know exactly what, yet, but he didn't want Riddle to feel regret. He didn't want the day to end, either. Staying out here did neither of them any good, though. Once they were back on campus and Riddle was tucked away in bed, if he didn't fall asleep right away, Cater would figure something out.

It didn't have to end? Even when they went back, even...

The squeeze is what helps him calm down some, a small sniff audible from him as he tries his best to calm his emotions. A soft nod-- agreement, at last. There was no way that he could go on. He knew better than to try, so why...?

"..."

Holding that hand, Riddle stares down at Cater, almost as if he doesn't believe him.

"Promise me." He states, leaning forward towards the other boy. "Promise me that... those words aren't just to placate me."

It was cute--and if Cater wasn't so worried, he'd spend more time admiring Riddle in that pouting, insistent state. He doesn't pull his hand away from that grasp, leaning in so he can stare all the more directly back into Riddle's big eyes as he gives his answer.

"I promise," he says resolutely, putting his free hand over his heart. "On my Magicam account."

Truly, Cater Diamond could stake nothing higher. He finally grins.

"Now, my King, may I continue?"

The pouting Queen finally relents. His hand allows Cater's to slip free when he was ready to continue.

"Alright." Riddle breathes out a sigh, settling his hand back against the bench, trying to focus on the cold of the bench against his skin. It makes him shiver, shake, despite the intense warmth radiating from him.

Pulling back on his glove, Riddle then adjusts his scarf, pulling it up above his mouth. A soft cough can be heard, muffled by the fabric.

Seven, he looked pathetic. He could feel it.

riddle/cater shenanigans

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject