splitmemory | riddle/cater shenanigans

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

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