'cause you're my king and I'm your lionheart

[selfie_centered]

♦️🌹

and in the sea that's painted black
creatures lurk below the deck
but you're a queen and I'm a lionheart

CODE

Comments

[selfie_centered]

[I won't tell.

You already promised; no one has to know.

It'll be our little secret.

what were they doing?

it startles a quiet laugh out of Cater, who pushes his hair out of his face almost as if nervous, shakes his head.]

Oh, good.

I was kinda worried there, for a second.

[he casts his hand through his hair all the way this time, lets his fingers curl in the ends with just the slightest tug. did he want to be alone? part of him, sure. but part of him had maybe wished to be closer. a part of him that he was ignoring so desperately really wanted to be closer.

not that it matters. Riddle is here, and Cater won't push him away. not yet, anyway.]

I... kinda figured you'd be asleep by now.

[crimsontyrant]

[ Whatever they're doing, it's certainly breaking out from some of the rules that Riddle set out for himself. The ones he thought were right, the ones his mother instilled in his head.

He's supposed to be asleep by now.
He's supposed to focus on his studies.
He's supposed to not allow anything to distract him from being who he should be.

How can he deny that he wants more? ]

I... tried.

[ He doesn't sound so sure about that, even if it is the truth. He tried, sure, but not all that hard.

He lets his own gaze fall back down to his hands, where one holds those little flower petals. He breathes out a quiet breath he'd been holding, setting those petals down onto the grass, near the closest rose bush. ]

What about you? I'd heard you had already slipped into your room, a short while before lights out. One of your little tricks, I assume?

[ It's not accusatory, more... mentioning it, that he'd noticed. Or that he'd gathered this information, one way or another. ]

Better be careful, Cater. I've heard our housewarden can be pretty strict on rulebreakers.

[selfie_centered]

Oh yeah?

Iii caught a rumor somewhere he always lets me off the hook, so.

[Cater laughs, but it's not particularly mirthy. he smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. gaze trained on the stars he continues to convince himself that it's funny. that it doesn't matter. that it doesn't bother him.

does it bother him that Riddle saw through his little trick? of course. of course he is.

what else is Riddle seeing through?

what does Cater keep doing wrong?]

But, uh, hey.

Who even said I'm not the copy, huh?

I could totally be in bed right now.

[crimsontyrant]

[ There's a lot to unpack in that one question.

What if this is the copy?
Would it matter? Would Cater remember this? Is it still really Cater, if this one he's talking to is just a copy? He has a surefire way to check, if he were to collar this one in front of him. It would vanish, if it were a copy. If it were the real Cater, then... there would be no change.

It isn't something Riddle wants to do.

Instead, he leans slightly towards Cater, as if scrutinizing, inspecting. ]

It doesn't matter. Either way, I'm still here with you. A you, regardless of copy or original.

[ Then he leans back again, forming that same distance between them as before, his chin tilted slightly up towards Cater. ]

Although, I think I am pretty confident in saying you are not the copy.

And if you are the copy, well. Then at least I will be humored for a short while, to believe I have a little of your time. Even if it may be nothing more than an illusion of it, a silly delusion of my own.

[selfie_centered]

[Cater looks at Riddle again, leaning just a little away and blinking as Riddle inspects him. Riddle speaks, and it leaves Cater at a loss for words, even as Riddle moves away from him.

he's supposed to have been winding down for the night, himself. he isn't really prepared to put up that casual, cool act of his just to hide the things he's been fighting with in his mind. the inner conflict has been overwhelming— he isn't stupid. that's the problem. Cater knows too much. thinks too much. knows too much.

he swallows— isn't sure when his mouth went dry, but starts to tug absently at a lock of his hair when he curls back in on himself.]

...heh. Well, you got me.

[that's right. put on a smile! Cater forces himself to unfold, lays his palms on the ground behind him to brace his backward lean. he is so carefree! can't you tell?]

Ding-ding!

It's ya boy in the flesh.

But I promise, I only come out here too late sometimes!

And I finished my homework for the night hours ago~

[crimsontyrant]

[ Neither of them is stupid. There's something about watching Cater this closely that allows Riddle to pick up on the subtleties in his shifting, in the adjustment of his words, his tone.

That way that he forces himself to be more open, physically, while seeming to close off all the more.

Or maybe Riddle's imagining things. He breathes out a soft sigh, shifting how he's sat to rest his bottom fully on the ground, one leg stretched out, while he brings the other to his chest, resting his arms loosely around it, his cheek against his knee. ]

You don't need to be energetic on my account. I saw the way you were looking up at the stars. You are clearly tired. Focused, distracted?

Did you have something specific on your mind?

[ Hey, Cater. How does it feel to have someone blow past your cheery persona to instead ask something personal? Something a little too close, something that presses in and dares to try and get at the real you?

It's not completely on purpose.

But-- if Cater felt the need to switch up, does...
Hm.
Riddle is going to table that thought before it fully forms in his mind. He wants to focus on Cater. ]

[selfie_centered]

[it's a little terrifying, to be honest. it shocks Cater. it's strange to be in this position, for Riddle to talk to him like this.

does Riddle just— know? is it Cater who's still in the dark? that wouldn't make sense. none of this makes sense. his feelings on it— the feelings he picks up from Riddle. it doesn't make sense, does it?

a second passes, another, and Cater curls in on himself again, less so than before.]

...That obvious, huh?

[man. he's losing his touch.

but does Riddle even realize? does he know that what's on Cater's mind is him? Cater looks at Riddle, takes a breath like he's going to say more— falters.]

[crimsontyrant]

[ Would it be better, or worse, to know that very same topic was the one that was keeping HIM up at night?

That question earns a small shake of his head. ]

Not quite obvious. More... you know me, even the things I think are subtle. What to say to me, what to do, how to act around me, you know it almost exactly, because you've been by my side for almost two years now.

It only makes sense that I would pick up on some of your traits, too, you know.

[ He definitely doesn't have a damn clue. But he's looking back at Cater, all the same, his brows knit together in a clear sense of focus on the situation. ]

... You don't have to talk about it. If you don't wish to.

[ he caught that too, that little falter. ]

[selfie_centered]

[he doesn't, does he? but doesn't he? Cater's faltering doesn't stop with just once.]

It's— I—

[crossing his arm over his knee, Cater puts his forehead into his other hand.

you know it almost exactly.

doesn't he? he has the formulas all laid out. he's analyzed Riddle's behavior to a tee. but he's been wrong recently. something has been different.

is it Riddle he doesn't know well enough, though? is it Riddle that's really the problem?]

I don't— know.

[crimsontyrant]

[ Cater's struggling to find his words. To find what to say, exactly.

Riddle continues to watch him, from where he rests his cheek against his own knee.

Does he not know how to say what it was? Or, does he not want to? Was it because of what they'd done, the other night? Is Cater trying to figure out how to tell him they need to go back to how they'd always been, without nights like that? Or-- was it was something else completely. A family issue?

What was it?
Couldn't they talk about anything?
--No. That wasn't necessarily true. Not at every step of the way. ]

That's alright too.

[ Riddle decides, letting his eyes wander back up to the false sky above. ]

We don't have to talk. If you need to think, you don't need to talk about it out loud. We can sit here quietly together until we're ready to go back inside.

I won't force you to say anything about it - I was merely offering to listen, as your friend.

[ Lifting one hand over towards Cater, he hesitates.
Then, pulls back his hand. He'd meant to offer a reassuring pat, but... if it was an issue of how they'd been recently, then... he doesn't want to make it worse. ]

[selfie_centered]

[they are friends, now, aren't they? that's what it is, more than anything. Cater's gotten too attached. gotten his hopes up. started to like someone too much when he knows damn well he can't keep them.

and even if the right idea is to reach out, Cater isn't sure how. isn't sure what to say. any answer to the situation is intimidating. can Cater really be what Riddle wants, if Riddle wants him? is he even really that person? and if he isn't really what Riddle wants— why can't he just accept that?

it should be simple. it should be easy. it felt easier, when he wasn't being seen.

but it felt lonelier, too.

Cater lets his hand drop to the ground, laying his head down on the arm that crosses over his knee. he crawls his other hand, finger by finger, a little closer to Riddle.]

...You don't have to do that.

I don't wanna bum you out.

I—

[his voice catches in his throat because at first he isn't sure if he's about to lie to Riddle, but— but no, this feeling is real, and one he can at least express.]

...I'm glad you're... here.

[he wants to be in this moment. he wants it to be everything. it should be everything that Riddle would eschew the rules for him. to comfort him. the gravity isn't lost on Cater.

but does Cater deserve that much?]

[crimsontyrant]

[ His heart doesn't race like the other nights they spent alone together. It's a different feeling, the one that's sinking against his chest. It's melancholy. A feeling deeper than a sympathetic sadness. Where it comes from, he's unsure. Specifying would be impossible, at this moment.

If he had to guess? It probably came from seeing someone he cares so deeply about in a state of discomfort like this. Or, it's his own feelings, about those thoughts that were keeping him up.

When he sees those fingers itching closer, he isn't sure if he saw it right. From the corner of his eye, anything could be possible. So, maybe... maybe he lets his own hand fall further to the ground, subtly moving it closer to Cater's. More easily reachable.

His own fingers inch forward, hand sliding across the ground until the tips of their fingers brush against each other. ]

Have to and want to are two separate things. I don't have to, yes. But I want to.

[ Tucking his chin back in towards his own chest, he adds on, ]

I'm glad I'm here, too.

[ His hand reaches slightly further, fingertips pressing closer. They're not holding hands, like this. No, they just happen to have them set at spots that are close together. Too close, that they have to touch.

With a careful shift, he's leaning slightly closer, sparing another glance towards Cater. ]

...

[ And a glance to their hands, as if he somehow hadn't noticed. What were they doing...? He. He should pull his hand back.

He starts to, beginning to sit up more properly - just to asset that Cater has space. That they have space between them, if Cater wants that. If Riddle wants that.

What do they want? ]

[selfie_centered]

[their fingers touch, and it's like the only thing Cater can see. Riddle looks at him, but Cater can't look away from their hands. their pinkies brush together and in his mind he remembers their little pinky promises, the way Riddle's hand contrasts with his.

he starts to lift his hand when Riddle does, coincidentally, but with a different intent— and the space gives Cater the room to grasp Riddle's hand before he can stop himself.

seven, if he lets go, he'll book it. he wishes he was the copy, that he'd disappear into a fluster of diamonds.]

[crimsontyrant]

[ oh


For a few seconds, seconds that feel like minutes, Riddle pauses, in his motion to pull back. His hand had been taken, and that warmth from Cater's hand was a lovely reminder.

He'd planned to pull back completely, to let Cater have more space. Not. This. Not the way their hands are clasped together, clumsily, shakily, as if this were their first times holding hands with anyone.

Then, Riddle adjusts his hand's position. He squeezes Cater's hand just slightly, confirms this moment is read. For himself more so than Cater. Oh how his heart beats so quickly in his chest, a distraction from most of his other thoughts.

... Why is this so much weirder and more intimate than having sex???? ]

...

[ His fingers, his hand, look so small still compared to Cater's. His hand squeezes down again, this time as if... ]

Don't let go yet.

[ as if he was scared to lose it. ]

[selfie_centered]

[who is he to deny Riddle? Riddle's demand is stronger than Cater's doubt, always. at first it was just an over-accommodation. he'd just conceded to keep his life easy, to get by in the best way possible. but lately, it'd become like a lifeline instead.

he'd wanted so badly to be something Riddle could rely on, but wasn't he the weak one, clinging to a crutch like that? it isn't the time to suddenly get stronger, though. he curls his hand tighter around Riddle's, too.

something in his chest burns. he wants to let go, wants to run, but Riddle grounds him, anchors him. his touch doesn't soothe the churning in Cater's stomach, the way his eyes start to sting, but it keeps him here. it makes the feeling easier to bear through.]

Yeah. I gotcha.

[Cater takes a deep breath in, lets it out. he's supposed to be put together, damnit.]

Sorry. I'm— cool, I promise.

[who's he trying to convince?]