splitmemory | late night study sessions

"It's just..... a little weird, I guess? I never really expected to see you like this, that's all." Trey laughs a little sheepishly, free hand settling atop Riddle's as the younger boy leans against him.

It's not a lie. But then again, it's not not a lie, either. Ever since the thought had first occurred to him, he had dismissed it out of hand, without even a moment's hesitation. The gulf between them back then had been..... vast, after all. Insurmountable. That teacup had shattered into too many pieces to ever put back together, let alone hold tea; trying would have only sliced his fingers to ribbons. He would have been a fool to even entertain the idea of anything except regrets.

And yet..... even thinking nothing untoward, he could easily say the same thing, too. Seeing Riddle so weak and shaken, so vulnerable when he hadn't just been pushed to the point of a breakdown..... It's a strange, rare sight. Not so much because he doesn't believe Riddle capable of it, but because..... because Riddle finds it so deeply unpleasant, doesn't he? He always seems to prefer being poised and collected, in control. A prescribed, Objectively Correct answer for everything, to know how to properly handle each situation as it comes.....

So what about murky twilight situations like these, where there are no rules to be found? What about those nights where the ghosts of old doubts and fears haunt his every step, dreaming and awake? "Sorry. You've got enough on your mind without hearing stuff like that, huh?"

The pieces of the shattered teacup... unable to be mended by their hands directly, was still gathered. Each piece held close to the chest of a small boy, clutching them so hard that he sliced and cut open his hands, the pieces digging in and yet... he never let go. No matter how many times he tried to shake it off, tried to tell himself that it wasn't worth it, that he would never be able to repair it, that little boy held out a sliver of hope.

Even when the pieces were wrenched away, tossed to the ground again, he didn't give up. He wouldn't. Deep inside, that little boy was still going to hold onto those memories, that broken relationship that he'd shattered and continued to shatter. Piece by piece, as he slowly realizes what he needs, what he wants, he can turn back to the small boy. Take his hands in his own, heal his wounded hands. Begin, slowly, to help him try and repair that broken teacup. Not with his hands, not with anything else, but the magic they shared.

Because that little boy is him, a part of him, still holding onto the hope that he wished he could trust wholeheartedly.

That, is why Riddle adjusts his hand, moves it, so he can pull it back from Trey's. Only to then press his fingertips against the other boy's palm, slipping his hand up carefully against his, to interlock their fingers together. His eyes were unfocused still, but even in this state he was able to squeeze together their hands, as if nothing had ever changed. But it had - and it would keep changing.

"It's alright." Riddle murmurs, keeping his voice lower, quieter. "I asked, didn't I?" He can feel his heart, racing away in his chest.

"Besides, I'd never imagined I'd be here. Being seen like this. To be vulnerable not once but... more. Again and again," His hand squeezes onto Trey's a little harder, before softening his hold, breathing out a careful, slow breath. "... Or do you mean wearing something of yours again? Being in your bed? Is that how you didn't expect to see me?"

Hey, who taught Riddle to tease--

It's..... nice, isn't it? Peaceful, holding hands and nestled together under the covers. If he were with one of his siblings right now, he might be talking to them about their dream, (bad idea, Riddle probably wouldn't want to say a word about it at all) or sitting up with them and reading for a while until they were tired again, (bad idea, Riddle would get too absorbed in the book) or talking about what they've both been learning at school. (Pointless idea, Riddle is at least as advanced as he is, if not more so, even if he's a second year.) So just..... what is he supposed to do in circumstances like these, exactly?

Things had seemed so simple back then. Maybe not easy, but..... simple. If Riddle could only sneak outside at a certain time, then they just needed to make sure they could play then. If he wore a sweatshirt and a jacket, then they could both be warm. If Riddle was stressed out and upset, they might not be able to fix it, but they could bring snacks to share, or let him pick their next game, or..... something. Anything to help him smile. It's harder to make him smile these days, isn't it? That said, though..... they feel more earned, now. Maybe even more likely to stick around for a while, even after they part ways for the day.

"Hah..... both, I guess? None of this is really your usual style." Trey laughs sheepishly, embarrassed but pleased in spite of himself. To think that he'd be getting teased by Riddle instead of Cater..... who ever would have imagined he had it in him? He must be starting to feel better already too, if his mind can wander to having a little fun at Trey's expense, rather than circling uselessly around the nightmare that had been keeping him up. If that's the case, who could possibly begrudge him for it?

This was... possibly one of the first times in a long time that there was peace. Enough that he could let up somewhat on his anxieties, on his stress. To focus instead on their clasped hands, on the way that Trey's chest rises and falls with his breathing, the small laugh from Trey at the teasing. All of this was so... calm. As if the wild ocean of his mind had stilled, water no longer thrashing out at the rocks at the edge of the cliffside.

He tilts his head up to look closer at Trey, seeming to take a minute to think.

Then, he makes a face.

"What's that supposed to mean? You don't dress all that differently from me when you wear casual wear." The pout is visible, maybe too much so. Then, he adds, squeezing Trey's hand carefully again, "It's nice, though. Isn't it...? This."

It's all he's ever wanted, really. A calm, peaceful, normal school life, not standing out or causing trouble. A bit of a tall order, somewhere like Night Raven College, (especially this year, for some reason) but..... it feels like he's not doing too bad a job, when they can sit and relax together like this. Trey smiles to see such a childish, normal pout, raising his teacup as though toasting to the observation. "Yeah..... We might wear similar things, but you make them look dignified."

Him, though? He just..... looks like some guy, really. A little awkward and out of his depth in anything stuffy and formal, a little scruffy in anything too casual--the kind of guy suited to wearing a simple uniform, not only for ease and practicality, but also to take away the need to make fashion choices on his own. He's meantfor the rank and file, just like a good card soldier, not..... not for being the one to hold the Queen's hand. Is it..... really okay for him to do this?

"That's because you slouch." Riddle fires back with ease, ease that he's not sure he's had in a while. Usually, the words that came the quickest were the ones filled with anger and annoyance, frustration. These were anything but. They're soft-spoken, with the kind of ease that only came when...
When he was with someone he truly cared for, wanted to spend time with. His Vice, who, while he'd treated him poorly during the start of his time here... still seemed to go out of his way to keep the peace within the dorm.

"If you straightened your back and stood with more purpose, you would look just as dignified. Maybe run a comb through your hair too, so it doesn't look as though you rolled out of bed right before dressing yourself?" Riddle continues to poke and prod with his words, shifting enough to sit up somewhat so he can reach his opposite hand up to mess with Trey's hair.

"I'm sure it was him who taught you to be so lax with your body language. Perhaps we should have lessons on posture for the whole dorm...?" It's a joke, hopefully Trey can see that, hear it in Riddle's tone.

"Wha--hey!" Trey splutters a protest, laughing and trying to lean away from the hand mussing his hair. Rude much? He can't say it's not true, though..... But even so! It's just how short his hair is, looking wild with even the slightest ruffling. "It's not that bad, is it?"

It almost feels like they're back home, rolling around in the grass and playing tag. Like all they have to do to make things the way they used to be--no, the way they should be--is just remember how. With a solid foundation, and a little support to climb along, can't tomato plants grow straight and tall?

"It hardly seems fair to blame Che'nya, when the guy barely even has a spine to begin with....." They say cats are liquid, don't they? And their friend has never seemed to be far behind, the way he has a knack for draping himself into impossible positions that make Trey's back hurt just to look at.

Riddle wears the smallest smile as he squirms, pulling his hand back away from Trey's, only to fully sit himself up. To devote his attention to grabbing at his hair, trying to smooth down parts of it and fluff up others. No leaning would get him out of reach, when Riddle was able to get so close to him and continue wriggling closer.

"Not 'that' bad, no... but some days I wonder if you had even bothered to look yourself in the mirror! How can I simply let the state of my Vice go without pointing it out, hmm?" The teasing is going to continue for just a little while longer. Enough that, for this moment, Riddle has all but forgotten his nightmare.

For this moment, he wasn't alone.

"True, fair point..." Che'nya was such a sly little one, never changing from the strange cat he was, never straying a single foot too far away. Anyways, that is becoming less and less the point, with how close Riddle had gotten. How his hands slow, stop. One more smoothing of his hair, and Riddle's fingertips ghost down a little further, against his cheek.

Ah. He. They're. Close. That finally processes as something less than normal for them, as something unusual and different.

"And you thought that pointing it out in the middle of the night was the best time?" Trey shakes his head in mock exasperation, glasses askew and hair in disarray. He's lucky it's so short, or surely Riddle would have pulled it down over his eyes and made him look like a sheepdog by now..... Good thing he's used to horsing around and looking a little silly, huh?

Sometimes, he wonders how different Riddle's life might have been, if he hadn't been an only child. Would the family dynamic have been kinder to him? Would he have been happier, more supported, if he had an older brother or sister to look up to? Or perhaps even if he simply had a younger sibling to look after and commiserate with? Maybe all he had really needed was to have someone be there with him.

For once tonight, though? Riddle is the one feeling the awkwardness before he is. Trey doesn't yet move to sit up or scoot away, smiles up at the hazy shapes and colors he can see past his crooked glasses as gentle fingers stroke through his hair and over his face. Is Riddle feeling better now?

He's quiet, as his heart skips a beat. As his hand lingers, hesitates. There is no witty retort, just the calm silence of a boy who is thinking too much, focused on all the wrong things. The curve of Trey's cheek, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles. The warmth of another living, breathing human in front of him, unmistakably.

Was this a mistake? Should he even have asked for something like this? Something so risky, so daring, so... innapropriate? Against the rules that he set down, without the proper paperwork and notes to make this okay, he's sat there transfixed on Trey, his cheeks taking on a deeper rosy hue.

Anything he could say wouldn't come out right. Instead... he brings both of his hands to properly re set his glasses how they should be. Offering a tiny smile to acknowledge the adjustment.

"Maybe... maybe I'll let you off with nothing more than a warning for now. I seem to have neglected my duties by forgetting to speak with you, after all."

It's a strangely fragile silence, the longer it stretches on. This time, it's Trey aware that Riddle is thinking too hard about something else, just as he had been when Trey first found him tonight. At least it might be about something a little more pleasant than nightmares, judging by the flush he can see once Riddle replaces his glasses.....

Trey offers him a mischievous, crooked smile, spreading his hands in a pointed shrug. See? It's no big deal if he doesn't cross every T and dot every I..... Nobody's going to be upset at him over it, except maybe Riddle himself. They're the ones who would have to take care of the paperwork anyway, right? "I won't say anything about you filing the forms belatedly if you don't. Sound fair?"

That is only HALF of what Riddle was worried about, but...
"... Alright." He nods, forcing away his concern. He needs to repay Trey somehow, some way. And, in this way, in this space, in this moment-- Riddle quickly leans in, pressing a kiss against Trey's cheek, murmuring the tiniest of thanks, before finally settling himself back down by his side.

His cheek presses back down against Trey's shoulder, then, once he's settled back properly under the covers next to him. This way, he can hide away from the embarrassment, from the less savory thoughts that threaten him, that press against his mind and demand his attention.

"But do not for a second begin to get comfortable with this small lapse. I will not stand for further skirting of the rules."

Trey can't help but flush under the press of Riddle's lips, momentarily lost for words. It's not like Riddle to be so..... so demonstrative, is it? He really must be happy..... How can he not be in return, knowing how much Riddle clearly needed this?

If that's the case, then he probably needs all this distraction, too. Trey raises an eyebrow at him, slyly knowing. Is it even more embarrassing, or reassuring, the thought that Trey would so openly accommodate Riddle willingly coming to spend time with him like this more often? "In that case, maybe I should keep a few copies on my desk....."

What was Trey saying????? Riddle's face flushes even deeper, a further embarrassment overtaking him with the implications of such a statement. His hand lightly shoves at Trey, as if to tell him to go away or to push him away himself, even as he stays put right where he is.

"What an odd thing to suggest."

And, yet, he isn't saying not to do that. "Filling out too many of those forms on my own behalf - would that not be an abuse of power?" Even more, Riddle himself is suggesting he'd be here more often than not, perhaps.

It's rare that Trey has a laugh at Riddle's expense, isn't it? And yet, here he is, entirely too amused over Riddle acting as though he could push him out of his own bed. Is his smile perhaps a bit too smug, his tone a bit too light? Clearly, he has no qualms about bending the spirit of the rules, perhaps a bit too much.

"We don't actually have any rules limiting the number of times you can stay in someone else's room overnight, as long as the Housewarden approves every request. So technically, it would only be an abuse of power if there were one, and you were making special exemptions for yourself to get around it, right?" See? Even if Riddle constantly comes over, it's fine as long as they have the paperwork right there for him every time.

Trey had a point. Frustratingly, especially when Riddle was already embarrassed and overthinking what that might mean for them. It's not like he wouldn't have record of where he was each and every time he slips into Trey's bed, if they had the paperwork to prove it. There was sound reasoning, and yet Riddle finds himself overthinking it, thinking the most flustering of things about it rather than actually focusing on reality.

-- More than that. He wants to get back at Trey, now, for making light of this. For... he's not sure. Maybe he's letting himself be just a little silly? Or is he too tired to care?

"Why would you even want me in here that much?" Riddle asks, puffing out his cheeks. "You better not be having any unsavory thoughts, Mister Trey Clover," And back to nudging and pushing at him. He seems... annoyed, but a trained eye would notice he's actually having... fun, pretending to be just another silly student.

Well, well. Someone's getting overtired, hmmm? Or does Riddle just feel the need to prove himself, to reassert his own strength and authority, after showing such vulnerability tonight? Okay, then, he'll tussle with him, if it helps Riddle feel better. Just a little! "Have you considered I might need to keep an eye on you that often, to make sure you don't turn into a troublemaker yourself?"

"You know how important getting a good night's sleep is to staying healthy. What are we going to do with you if you start becoming an insomniac?" See, two can play at this game.

A little bit of both, really. Overtired, still scared of even trying to sleep, and wanting to prove himself and reassert that he was in control. Not that he was physically stronger than Trey by any means; in fact, he probably shouldn't be trying to mess with him physically, squirming and pressing his hands against him.

"Me? A troublemaker? In what world-- how dare you!" Riddle declares, moving to sit up slightly to give himself an upper hand - literally, because gravity would help him push and nudge.

... Really, it's reminiscent of the FEW times that Che'nya would be able to get Riddle to get physical and riled up, so the three of them would be tumbling around in the grass together and, in the end, fell into a pile of giggles and laughter.

It's been a long, long time since they've gotten to play together like that, hasn't it? Riddle may not be accustomed to physical play any longer, but Trey still is, even if they've largely grown out of it by now. He raises a challenging eyebrow at Riddle, reaching up to give him a proper push to the side; if he wants to keep gravity on his side, he'll have to work for it a little.

"Can you deny it? Heartslabyul can't manage with a consistently sleep-deprived Housewarden."

Well, Riddle might not be accustomed to physical play, but he damn well was talented physically in some ways. Were he using his legs, he might have an easier time, given all the time he spends riding horses for equestrian club. His hands and arms, however, aren't all that strong in comparison. He gasps, grabbing at Trey and trying to push him in return.

"I cannot-- but I am not and never will be that far gone! Not a chance." Was Trey prepared for the move he's about to pull? The attempt to push his wrist back and away, to get Trey more vulnerable? The way he's turning to shove his leg between Trey's, to try and wrestle his way to force gravity to his side.

He's really in it now...! Watch out, Clover.

If anything, Riddle is more athletic than Trey is, these days--he hasn't done much sports since enrolling in Night Raven College. By all rights he should have the edge, height and physique aside. But sports alone aren't the only thing involved in building strength, huh? Hauling around heavy ingredients and lab equipment, spending hours on your feet in the kitchen or laboratory, working dough, stirring thick concoctions to make potions or candy alike..... Even hobbies that most people consider sedentary and intellectual, or even dainty and feminine can help keep you in good shape.

Not that Trey is particularly inclined to show that fact off, especially when his upper body strength is a fair bit more developed than his legs. Riddle's leg slides home, and Trey tumbles onto his back once more as he's flipped, arm swept wide and pushed against the mattress. For the moment, at least, he seems to be quite thoroughly pinned. "So you're saying I won't find you pulling any all-nighters, after tonight?"

There-! Riddle had the edge, pressing Trey's wrist down into the mattress, while his own legs straddle one of Trey's thighs, one pressing so carefully between his legs to try and pin him there. Where Riddle might have strength, he also lacks in one crucial area: weight. He's small, easy to push around, and if Trey really wanted to...

But Riddle isn't focused on that. Instead, he's focused on the attack he had been brewing on Trey, bringing his other hand to rest on Trey's shoulder, to keep him pinned down.

In a way, though, Riddle was the one caught, even when pinning Trey like this. "You..." Won't, is what he was supposed to say. He blinks, making a face. "That is hardly fair. One or two nights here and there wouldn't mean I'd be sleep deprived-!" He's arguing it, for the sake of arguing, running circles around himself.

It's a rather effective pin, for someone so small and light. Not effective enough to keep Trey down, if he really doesn't want to be--but good enough to keep Riddle distracted, until he realized he'd been talked into a corner. Go on, Riddle, look him in the eye and try to argue your point convincingly. He'll wait.

"Isn't it? Even if you aren't consistently sleep deprived, being exhausted will still make you struggle through the next day." People will notice, whether Riddle likes it or not. Trey, first and foremost--but also their other dormmates, his clubmates, their teachers.....

Why did Trey have to be so right? Riddle's grip tightens on his wrist, his jaw tightening as he clenches down, staring Trey in the eye. This... jerk knew exactly what he was doing, where he was going from the start, and seemed to be a good three steps ahead of Riddle.

"I-- it's hardly-..." Riddle makes a face, and instead of trying to argue it?

He brights that one hand up from Trey's shoulder to push at his face, try to cover his mouth, to get him to stop talking, stop pointing out the obvious truth. "Then, what? The solution is to come sneak into your bed each and every night? What if someone starts to suspect there may be something more going on here?"

Hah. Lost for words, is he? Riddle doesn't have a leg to stand on. He knows this isn't good for him; he's just reluctant to take the steps he needs, to reach for the help he needs, until he can rest easy with himself. Doesn't he already know what he should do, even if he's not willing to admit it to himself just yet?

Riddle's hand covers his mouth quite thoroughly, muffles his voice even if he does try to talk. So why should he, until he's actually able to be heard again? The way Trey smiles against Riddle's palm is the only warning he'll get, before Trey's legs tighten around Riddle's, before he rolls his whole weight to the side to switch out their positions. Who needs to push up against the pin, when they can add their opponent's weight to their own momentum instead?

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