splitmemory | late night study sessions

Restless energy practically radiates from Riddle as he sits down in the common area of the dorm. A single light upon the table is on, several books and notes splayed out on the table in front of him.

It wasn't like Riddle wanted to study. He knows just how bad it can be to not get enough sleep, to focus his energy so intensely that he disregards his health, but... he can't go back to sleep. Not because he won't, or he hasn't made an attempt, but because he quite literally can't. His pen scritches carefully at the paper, a small note being made. Onto the next part...

On an average night, he was first to bed, first to rise. Tonight was different-- it had been different, for a while, but this was the first time he'd gone through the effort of wandering down deeper into the dorm. Still in his pajamas and all, sat quietly alone.

In a way, it's nostalgic.

Riddle breathes out a quiet sigh, closing one of the books and swapping it with another. Maybe a switch of topics would help his mind stop racing...?

There are reasons that Trey sleeps with his door ajar at night. If asked, he would declare that it's so his dormmates know that they're welcome to come to him with their troubles at any hour, day or night--a Vice Housewarden should be welcoming and helpful to those they serve, right? If pressed, he would probably laugh and admit that it's a habit from home; he just wouldn't have felt right if his younger siblings couldn't come find him at night. Their parents needed their rest after being so busy all day, after all!

But even beyond duty, even beyond sentiment, even beyond habit, if he had to admit it to himself? Trey does it for nights like this. He makes sure he's not shut off completely precisely so that he can wake up when he hears out of place noises, or light spills into his room when it isn't supposed to. He may not be protecting Mom and Dad's peace and quiet anymore by keeping an eye on his siblings, but he is protecting all of Heartslabyul's by keeping an eye on his underclassmen. Who wants to be woken up at all hours by a distant roar of 'Off with your head!'?

Even now that things are..... better, he still can't help but worry, can't help but be glad that he chose a room so close to the common areas of the dorm. Trey pads down the hall in slippered feet as he heads for the dim glow of the lounge, hair ruffled and glasses askew as he rubs his face, trying to keep his yawn as quiet as possible. Who is it this time, huh? "Seriously, guys? You know curfew was hours ago, right.....?"

There are times in which a tone of voice will spark anxiety, will remind those hearing whatever words are spoken that the speaker is annoyed, frustrated, without needing to actually say that. Riddle has long since adapted to being the kind of person whose voice took on that tone, but it wasn't all that often that this tone was directed his way.

Not anymore, at least. Not in years, as he'd fallen in line.

For a brief moment there's a flicker of an old anxiety, a flare of a need to hide. To make up some excuse for why he was awake past curfew, something that would seem innocuous and get him free from judgement.

And then he recognizes the voice. One that, admittedly, he should have recognized right off. Lifting his eyes from his work, he looks towards Trey, a glimmer of amusement now settling in.

"You know, the rumors seem to be true... you sound like a true parent when you speak like that." Comes the first comment, followed up quickly by an apology of sorts, "Did I wake you? I hadn't realized you were such a light sleeper. Had I known..." He would have never come out to the lounge this late.

It's rare that anyone has the grounds to scold Riddle anymore, isn't it? He's really grown up, since they had first met--maybe a little too much, too fast, in fact. And yet, that still doesn't stop Riddle from taking a jab at him like that, huh? Haaaah..... He really does get it from all sides, doesn't he? Trey laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, come on..... I'm not that bad, am I?"

Trey straightens his glasses as he moves to sit next to Riddle, dubiously eyeing the stack of textbooks he'd brought out with him. Just how long had Riddle planned to sit out here? Whatever's bothering him, it has to be something big--Riddle knows better than to believe in the efficacy of cramming or all-nighters. He has studying down to a science, at this point. So there's no need to trouble him with anything that might make him feel worse, is there?

So he meets the apology with a dismissive wave of his hand, the excuse that rises to his lips effortless. "No, no. I just needed to use the bathroom, and I noticed the light was on. It's usually some freshmen thinking they can horse around after hours while nobody's around to see."

Not that bad, says the man who was practically known for taking care of anyone where he could. Who opened this conversation by scolding first, asking questions later? Riddle will let it go, for now, watching as Trey settles into the spot beside him. It wasn't like Riddle wasn't going to say yes if he asked to join him, and there was space there.

Riddle's eyes fall back down to his own books, an idle hand carefully flipping through the pages of the one now open in front of him. He finds the page he needs, or the page he had decided he would settle on. It's not like he's going to stop just because someone found out he was up and working, unless given a good argument to try and get back to bed. For now, the books would stay open, and his pen would stay in hand.

"Is that so...?" Glancing back up towards Trey, he gives a somewhat dubious look, "How often do they horse around like this? Has your word been enough to stop them? ..." Must he have a conversation with the Dorm all over again? Not that the majority of the students would take him seriously out of anything more than fear. Again, he decides to let it go, in favor of a different statement, "Oh, but don't allow me to keep you up. You should get back to sleep as soon as you can."

Sleep's important, after all.

The least he can do is give Riddle some company, while he's clearly awake (or intending to be, if nothing else) for the long haul. Maybe scout things out a little more, so to speak? Riddle doesn't have to talk about what's on his mind if he doesn't want to, of course, but..... Well, it would probably make him feel better, wouldn't it? He ought to make the extra effort to do what he can for Riddle now, after he'd catastrophically failed him not only once, but twice.

"Ah, I don't know..... maybe a couple times a month? They're just a little too excited to be away from home and living with friends, that's all. I only need to remind them of how late it is, and they're pretty good about heading back to bed." Read as: they usually take the hint after a little nagging, unless there's some problem he needs to help with and/or cover for. But that's what senpais are for, right? They can have fun getting to spend time with their friends without risking getting chewed out (or beheaded) over it.

Trey's smile turns a bit crooked at that, brow raising at the attempted dismissal; he doesn't need to point out the irony there for Riddle to be aware of it, does he? Maybe a mistaken assumption that needs to be corrected will shed some light on the situation--Riddle surely can't help but give in to the impulse to explain himself, can he? "I could say the same to you, you know; you're usually in bed right after curfew. Don't tell me you've been studying all night?"

Trey's lucky that Riddle hasn't gotten to the point of complaining, of saying he doesn't in fact need the company even if... almost more than anything, it's what he wanted. To have someone sit with him, be there. Maybe not to listen, he doesn't know whether he'd have the ability to explain what was on his mind beyond a few words, but to be there with him. That's more than enough. Not that Riddle was going to mention it or bring it up aloud. No, he... Doesn't want to make it obvious and, admittedly, is still avoiding putting much on others.

His brows furrow as he listens, nodding slightly. Right, if they're good enough at heading back to bed, then... he could let it slide, as long as Trey was handling it. Which he was. Besides, there's enough to argue a moment later.

The irony isn't lost on him, no. He'll still argue and try to explain himself without too much detail -- not that he's good at leaving any detail behind when he's explaining himself, by that impulse that Trey's mastered poking at. "I have not. Studying all night is the most foolish thing someone can do, if they want to actually retain the knowledge they're taking the time to learn. No, I merely couldn't get back to sleep after waking up a little while ago."

Judging by the fact he was in pajamas, it would probably be safe to assume he was telling the truth and got at least an hour of sleep, maybe. How long he'd been sitting here, then, was anyone's guess.

Then again, if he couldn't sleep, usually he jumps to tea or some sort of calming drink instead of studying, so. That probably is a self call out more than anything.

Sometimes, all you need is the reassuring warmth of someone next to you. Sometimes, the grounding weight of an arm wrapped around you is enough to settle you back into your own body, instead of being too deep in your own head. How often has he told one of his siblings a story, or sat up and read a book with them, only to find they had fallen asleep cuddled against his side partway through? He might not go that far, but..... well, sitting and talking shouldn't be too overbearing, should it? Even if it's not talking about what's actually troubling Riddle in the first place.

It's the sort of life experience Riddle probably never had the chance to get, as a son or a big brother. No wonder he's so reluctant to ask for it, hmmm? Funny how self-reliant he's become, when he was meant to rely on his mother for everything..... Darkly funny, or just sad? He's not sure there's a difference, in this case. He just knows that if Riddle is to the point of acting in ways he would leap to call others out for, then he surely needs someone to bridge that gap for him, even if he doesn't want to reach out first.

"So I've heard. You're going to be dead on your feet tomorrow if you stay up for too long, you know. Want me to make you some tea?" Normally, he'd suggest a bit of warm milk, but that's a non-starter--which rule was it again stating that only herbal tea was allowed in the evenings? 153? A nice chamomile latte should be close enough to pass muster, surely.

Maybe Riddle should count himself lucky? That Trey was only teasing him, gently, without actually forcing him to go to bed and attempt to sleep. He wouldn't put it past Trey to try, really, if he decided to be too pushy about staying up. For now, this was enough.

Riddle finds himself turning his pen over in his hand, watching Trey for a second as the question hangs in the air. Tea did sound good, he had to admit. He could trust Trey not to make the mistake of offering him something caffeinated or something that would not be herbal at this hour. He wouldn't need to remind him of the rules, unlike how he might have to remind, say, Cater. Self-reliant or not, Riddle was still learning plenty-- including how to accept help when it's offered so blatantly.

"I doubt it would help..." Riddle muses with the idea, sparing a small glance between Trey and his work, "But... yes. I'd appreciate that." Riddle nods then, briefly pausing all over again and turning a bit further in his chair, dropping his pen on the table and grabbing quickly at whatever he can reach of Trey, if the other boy is already getting up to make the tea or not. Almost to stop him, as if he'd thought of something more. His hand grabs whatever he can-- his shirt, his hand, his wrist, whatever is easiest.

And, when he had Trey's attention, he adds on a final request, in the form of a question: "...... With extra honey?"

He may not have all the rules memorized just yet, but he's got the important ones down, doesn't he? The ones that impact their day to day lives, if nothing else. And even more importantly than that..... he knows the unwritten rules of the dorm, as well. The ones that keep them all healthy, happy, and harmonious--the ones that let them all keep their heads, literally and metaphorically, day after day. Riddle is hardly the only one with a temper in Heartslabyul, let alone the rest of the campus, after all. It may be a bit of a hassle to juggle it all, but he does have a knack for it, if he says so himself.

"You'd actually be surprised how much even the simplest things can help, if you just believe they can. It's called the placebo effect." Like, for example, the unwritten rules of how to avoid bruising the egos so many of his classmates can have. Insisting people just try to lay down and close their eyes for a while makes them feel infantilized, but wording things a little more gently? Pulling on the wide knowledge base his fellow Science Club members contribute? They can swallow that concept with more dignity. He's just rising to go get that tea ready when a hand grasping his stops him; Trey hesitates, expression softening. Extra honey, huh.....? If Riddle can admit he needs the help, he deserves the treat, honestly.

"With extra honey, just the way you like it--just be sure to brush your teeth before you get back to bed. Be back in a minute." And when he returns, it'll be with a mug in each hand. It's less embarrassing if they're both enjoying a warm drink together, right?

Edited 2024-12-13 20:51 (UTC)

There's no one, really, that Riddle could ask for as a better vice. Trey picked up on so many little rules, so many little ways in which he could manage all the duties that came along with being vice and keeping the peace. He's the perfect candidate through and through. Especially with how he doesn't question Riddle's request. He shouldn't be having extra sugar this late in the evening, and yet...

Sometimes Trey spoiled him, didn't he? Not that anyone can complain about it; Trey still doted on the whole of the dorm in his own way, even if there was the occasion where Riddle seemed to get extra attention. It was only fair. Not only because of their past, but Riddle was the Housewarden. It's only fitting that his most loyal card soldier take care to ensure his happiness.

He waits patiently for Trey to return. Once he does, Riddle seems to have adjusted his supplies in a way that he could potentially return to bed, if the sleepiness begins to hit. He reaches out, taking one of the mugs once it's offered, holding it in both of his hands to soak in the warmth. He waits for a second, his eyes trained on the tea before he takes a slow sip.

... Trey really did add in the extra honey, didn't he? The slightest bit of tension leaves his shoulders, and his expression relaxes just a little. He doesn't even realize he leans slightly closer to Trey, his shoulder and side pressing in against him as he holds that mug close.

"Thank you." It might have been an offer made by Trey, but he still deserves thanks.

As promised, extra honey for Riddle. And for him, the barest hint of sweetness to make the delicate floral bouquet of their tea all the richer, like candied violets melting on his tongue. For a moment, it doesn't feel like he's rolled out of bed in the middle of the night to fuss over to fuss over a friend in distress. Even if the feeling fades as quickly as it began.....

For now, it feels like he's home, cuddled up on the couch with his baby brother snuggled up against his side, enjoying a treat together and talking as quietly as they can so as not to wake anyone else up. A sneaky, hidden pleasure, a secret indulgence they stole just for them in the twilight hours they should both be asleep. Nobody else needs to know, right? They can have a special, shared memory to treasure.

But he's not home, is he? And Riddle isn't his baby brother. And nobody is here to catch either of them, let alone in any position to tell them they shouldn't be doing this. And they're up for a reason, no matter how cozy it is, whether Riddle is willing to admit it or not. Even so, Trey's arm settles loosely around Riddle in a gesture that's clearly well-practiced. "No problem. What brought you out here tonight, anyway?"

It can't hurt to ask, right? Even if Riddle doesn't want to answer outright, how he dodges the question will probably still be somewhat telling.

There's always going to be that distant desire, that want to feel like this was home. For Riddle, it felt different, yes, but it would never feel like home. That nostalgia was never a good one. Instead, for him... it reminds him briefly of what he wanted. The attention he desired for years, the light affection that he'd received very briefly once upon a time, before it was snatched away from him.

Almost like he didn't deserve it, being led away by his hand, never to know whether he'll deserve it again. It doesn't matter how hard he reached out, how often he did what he was told; there would always be that part of him, wanting more. Wanting... even just a second of love. Not that he'd ever fully consciously understand this desire, not in this moment at least.

The arm around him finally makes it click that he was leaning so close. His cheeks flush, and he does his best to bring the cup a bit higher, to hide his face in the mug as well as he could. How embarrassing.

"I said before, did I not? I couldn't sleep." Riddle stubbornly says, turning his face away to further hide it. "... I did not even try to return to sleep once I awoke." He admits, softer, lowering his voice to an octave that, hopefully, Trey wouldn't be able to quite make out. His shoulders tense all over again, his small body like a ball of tight muscles.

Oh, is he overstepping his boundaries? He probably is, huh..... As habitual as the gesture is, though, Trey finds he doesn't regret it enough to pull away. Not if Riddle is rattled enough that even such clear embarrassment isn't enough to make him put that distance back between them. It must be a pretty big nightmare, if he's this flustered, hmmm? If he hadn't even tried to get back to sleep.....

"You didn't? That doesn't sound like you." After all, Riddle knows better. This is a school night, and you need to be well-rested to properly pay attention, learn, and retain knowledge. Riddle is far too diligent to stay awake like this unless he's too upset for rational thinking to rein in his heart. He knows that. Riddle knows that. For that matter, Riddle surely knows that he knows that, as well.

So there's really no need to press such a blatantly evasive half-truth, is there? He can just..... let that logical inconsistency hang in the air between them, unvoiced but very much present--not unlike one of his parents silently staring him down until he confessed to his latest mishap. (Seven, is he really turning into them already? Isn't that sort of thing supposed to happen when he's much, much older? Like midlife-crisis older?) Trey just raises a questioning eyebrow instead, raising his own mug to his lips.

There's no rush, after all. They have all night, if they need it. He doesn't relish the idea of staying up that long, but if that's what Riddle needs, then..... well, what else is he supposed to do? Just leave him to suffer in silence alone?

Yes, this was a major embarrassment, to have them be close like this. It wasn't... one that he wanted to end, though. The arm was comforting, the closeness warm. His own small body had been getting pretty cold; he could use the warmth, as much as he wanted to pretend he didn't want it. The statement hangs in the air, the silence almost deafening.

Riddle squirms uncomfortably. Sips further at his tea, and tries to think of a way to figure out how to word this. How to explain, if that's what he was going to do. The inconsistency will continue to hang over them, almost like a guillotine ready to chop his head off, as if the Red Queen herself had declared he was unfit.

Finally, Riddle breaks the unbearable silence. "I couldn't bear the thought of slipping back into those dreams-- those nightmares. They make me feel so alone. Remind me of just how true that is. That I'm alone." Or, well, that he was. He's still trying to work through the idea that he has people here. That he can reach out a hand, that he doesn't need to struggle alone.

And that's where that blossoms from. The sentiment of being alone, of feeling alone.

"Riddle....." He thinks he understands, now. It might be a strange thing to say, declaring definitively that you are alone while cuddled against someone's side, but..... That hasn't always been true for him, has it? For most of his life, Riddle has very much been alone. Even after enrolling in Night Raven College, even after becoming the Housewarden, he had been alone even while surrounded by people. No matter how hard he had tried to reach out, all he had ever learned how to do was push people away--had nearly killed himself with the sheer brutality of trying to pull people close only on his own terms.

But Riddle isn't alone right now, is he? Even though he had tried to be, Trey had come looking for him. His life is different now--Riddle is different now. It may be slow and unsteady progress, but he is changing. Can Riddle actually see those changes, when he's the one who has to look at himself in the mirror every day? Or is it something his heart just can't accept yet? Hah..... even the heart is just a muscle, in the end, literally and metaphorically. It's bound to atrophy if you don't make good use of it. How much physical therapy would you even need to get back onto your feet, if you weren't allowed to walk for most of your life? What kind of exercises can you even do, to help your heart heal?

Trey looks down at his own wavering reflection in his tea, feeling the warmth seeping into his hand, breathing in fragrant steam, tasting the lingering sweetness on his lips, feeling the weight of Riddle leaning against his side. And finally, he can only shake his head, smiling a little in spite of himself as he takes a long drink. He was overthinking things almost as badly as Riddle does for a moment there, huh? "Why don't you join me in the kitchen some time?"

The loneliness was enough to crush someone under the weight of it. No matter how long he spent in his own dark room, wondering when the time would come that he was enough. That he would be allowed to step out into the world and make something of himself -- only, he was a spitting image of that woman he called Mother, the same woman who he would defend with his life and see no harm in her actions. The same one, that... that caused these feelings to bubble and fester deep inside of him.

The question surprises him. He lifts his head, eyes coming up to look directly at Trey, his brows knitting in confusion, but not an anger. He opens his mouth to protest, before quickly closing it as soon as he notices it's hanging open like that.

His fingers curl against the teacup he holds so close, closer to his chest than he'd ever had a single soul.

"I..." His hands shake, ever so slightly, with how he's holding that cup. He dips his head back down, focusing his gaze back onto the swirling liquid in his cup. "I would only get in your way." He knows his place, too. The kitchen was a sacred place, somewhere he couldn't quite step into, somewhere that was covered in a fog that he couldn't pass.

"..." With a shake of his head, he forces his own gaze back up to meet Trey's, "Can we start with... can I. Can we--" Riddle stops himself, swallows down his nerves, and asks it plainly: "Can I sleep with you tonight?"

"That couldn't be farther from the truth. Even the smallest kitchen runs smoother with a commis chef, you know; whether you've cooked before or not, it's still an important job." Is a kitchen really such a sacred, magical place? Even for someone who finds so much love and joy there, it's still a place Trey finds thoroughly grounded in reality and practicality. All manner of treasured moments can be made in the kitchen--but so can aching feet and backs, scalds and burns, painful knife slips, the mindless tedium of chopping and stirring and cleaning, countless messes.....

The kitchen is where life happens, glamorous and ugly, satisfying and painful, frustrating and uplifting. Somewhere in the middle of all that learning, growing, experimenting, hard work, and minutia, you learn how to be who you are.

Trey is patient enough to wait and listen in silence, sipping his tea as he gives Riddle the space he needs to stumble through..... through..... It's a minor miracle Trey doesn't choke, staring at Riddle in pure bewilderment. He couldn't possibly have heard Riddle right, could he? It's Riddle, after all. That sort of obscenity isn't even remotely-- "You want to--"

Oh. Oh Seven, he needs to get his head together. To think he'd actually believed for a moment that the request had been less than pure..... Their repaired friendship still feels like such a tenuous, fragile thing, with so much potential to shatter like a fallen teacup in his hands if he handles it too roughly. A misunderstanding like that would be nothing but unnecessary stress on it, wouldn't it? "I-I mean..... of course. I'd be glad to."

Could the kitchen really run smoother with him in it? Riddle's not sure. His magic isn't shaky, he could help with his spells, but he's sure that wouldn't be what Trey would allow, in his space. The kitchen... no, it's more his battlefield than Riddle's, a battlefield that he isn't sure he can conquer.

Anyways.

He notices the stare, the bewilderment clear in his eyes. Riddle himself blinks, unsure what was so shocking about the idea. Was it... how strained they already were? The concern that, anything a little closer would cut into old wounds, would push them further apart all over again, much like his own words had done not all that long ago. It's painfully obvious Riddle didn't get the implication of his words now--

and he surely wouldn't with Trey not pointing it out. Instead, he just nods slightly, leaning back from Trey to glance towards the few books he had out. Mm, he should clean up....

"Let's finish our tea in your room, then." Riddle sets his teacup down carefully, his hands coming to the books and organizing them into a small pile. Then, he brings that pile to his chest as he moves to stand up. His teacup is grabbed, too, leaving not a single hand open for him to offer to Trey to help him stand.

It's a funny thing, how fluidly roles can shift and rebalance. For all that Riddle is a Housewarden, they both know that Trey rules Heartslabyul's kitchen. For all that Trey stands ready to quietly support Riddle in all the small, seemingly insignificant details he needs to keep running smoothly, Trey stands ready to entrust Riddle with that same mantle in the kitchen. Just as he had been as a child, even the most inexperienced cook can still be genuinely useful--chopping, stirring, sifting, timing, monitoring pots, getting things in and out of the oven.....

It takes a court to rule a whole kingdom. Too many cooks may spoil the soup, but there can almost never be too many pairs of hands in the kitchen.

Trey clears his throat awkwardly, doing his best to push aside the flustering mental images his slip up had conjured. Just a moment to linger behind and compose himself again, and it'll be like nothing had ever happened. "Sure. You go on ahead; I'll turn off the lights."

One day, Riddle would understand better, to be able to know and put together the pieces of the puzzle he was currently missing. Until that day, he'll take it one step at a time, push forward and continue to do what he always has: try.

For the moment, the way Riddle decided to start? This tea, and curling up in someone else's bed. An action that might seem childish, were he to admit he was scared of falling back into a nightmare all over again. Of feeling alone, then waking up with that reality.

He offers Trey a simple nod.

"Alright. Don't take too long. You know I'm hardly one for patience." With that, the small housewarden finally begins to make his way up the stairs, back to the dorm rooms. An initial stop at his own room to drop off the books, then he was on his way over to Trey's room.

Opening the door, he wanders in, not quite thinking about needing to close the door or wait within the threshold of the door. He instead focuses on moving into the room, towards the bed. His teacup is set for a brief moment on the nightstand, as Riddle moves to get into his bed, only pausing when he spots a cardigan that... okay, it looks cozy, he's cold. Sue him.

It's slipped on before he gets into the bed, finally settling down and picking his cup back into his hands. The sleeves need to be pushed up a bit, as the boy swims in the fabric. Now to wait for Trey... he really better not keep him waiting.

Even if it might be childish, it's comfortingly familiar, at east to Trey. Once upon a time, he'd crawled into bed between his parents when he had a nightmare, safe and warm between the people who loved him most, who were strong and smart and amazing enough that he knew he had nothing to worry about. And years after that, when he had little siblings of his own..... It was in fact his bed they ended up crawling into even more often than their parents', wasn't it?

Has Riddle's mother or father ever welcomed him into their bed? He can't help but wonder--and secretly, spitefully, doubt. It's wrong of him to be so uncharitable, isn't it?

Thankfully, Riddle doesn't have to wait too long. A moment to rub his face and gather his wits, a brisk shake to ward off those untoward thoughts, and Trey picks up his tea cup to follow Riddle, padding down the hall in the dark. For as much as he'd tried to compose himself, he can't quite help the way his heart skips a beat, seeing Riddle curled up in bed waiting for him, swimming in one of his cardigans..... Geez, this really is unfair, isn't it? And he needs to just ignore it, and crawl into bed alongside Riddle like everything is completely normal.....

He's not sure if he should count himself lucky or unlucky, at this point. "Comfortable?"

Truthfully? Riddle can't recall a single time he's been in a bed aside from his own. Maybe one rare occasion, where he'd fallen so ill that Mother wanted to watch over him closely. Not a single time like this, where he could act as a child. Where he could ask for comfort, for safety from the harsh realities. Not because he was shunned or pushed away when he asked, more... that he never felt safe asking. Never wandered to her bedroom and asked for the attention he so craved.

That's what makes this moment so different. So much of an improvement. He asked for what he needs, once it seemed safe to do so.

By the time Trey enters the room, Riddle has his teacup back in hand, soaking up the last drops of warmth from it. He lifts his eyes to look at Trey, before nodding slightly towards him in confirmation. A flush, very slight, was visible on his face, as a realization comes over him. They're not kids anymore. Borrowing a sweater like this-- he has a sense of embarrassment, and he's not sure why.

"I hope you don't mind...?" Riddle finally manages out, unafraid to meet Trey's gaze. He's going to be confident, even through his embarrassmemt. This was fine, normal. That's what he's going to push forth.

Oh. Seeing Riddle waiting in his bed, curled up in his clothing, and blushing like that..... Hadn't he only just told himself to get his act together? Whatever the exact opposite of getting his act together is, Trey is pretty sure it's something like this. What would his other friends do in a situation like this?

Cater might propose a pajama selfie, and cuddle up to browse his phont together until it was time to sleep. Che'nya would probably tease Riddle mercilessly just to enjoy seeing him puffed up and flustered over something so inconsequential. Rook..... he has no idea what that guy is thinking most of the time. Maybe he'd wax poetic about it somehow? Why are all his friends so weird? That little thought exercise didn't help in the slightest.

Just..... ignore it. Be cool. It'll be fine once they start chatting again. Trey shakes his head, lifting the covers to slide in next to Riddle. "I don't mind, but I can't guarantee it's the coziest thing to sleep in, either."

What was going through Trey's head? It's obvious that something is on his mind, something is making those gears turn and the muscles in his face twitch in such a way that-- even after all these years, Riddle can put together that there's something bothering him, something eating at him. Instead of commenting just yet, he sips the last few drops of his tea from his cup, setting it down on the bedside table once and for all at Trey finally slides in next to him.

Then, he can shift to get just a little bit closer, turn his body to face Trey, rest his cheek against his shoulder.

"You're distracted -- thinking about something," Riddle finally speaks up again, pointing out the obvious, "What is it?"

He isn't going to take a lie for an answer, so choose your next words carefully, Clover.

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drops into this three months later

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