riddle/cater shenanigans

[crimsontyrant]

specifically (eyes emoji) that little psl about them staying at NRC during break hehe

Comments

[caycay]

...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.

[crimsontyrant]

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."

[caycay]

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?"

[crimsontyrant]

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.