'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

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[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?]