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?"