Petals and Pearls - bedtime_at_four_am (2024)

Chapter 1: Clause 1

Chapter Text

Azul sat at his desk, legs crossed and head on his hands. His glasses teetered on the edge of his nose, which was scrunched up in thought. The laptop in front of him had a website window open, solely showing a countdown and a smaller blinking blue window confirming he had a bot set up to buy him a ticket as soon as said countdown ended.

The Ella's Slipper Ball, named after the tale hailing from the now fallen Kingdom of Ashes, was an amazing business opportunity he’d been looking forward to attending since he’d first heard of it in his freshman year. Hosted by the illustrious Monique Modol.

Monique Modol was, first and foremost, filthy rich. A short woman from the Queendom of Roses coming from old money, with platinum gray hair, crows feet and slightly hunched posture. But her spirit and enthusiasm was that of one half her age– it reminded him a little of how Lilia acted.

But her benevolence rivaled the sea witch’s, for she used her never ending riches to give generous donations to promising and budding entrepreneurs. This had “Azul Ashengrotto” all over it.

With a donation from Monique, he would finally succeed in acquiring that second branch of Mostro Lounge he’d been working towards. Hades– with the revenue and left over donation money, maybe even a third!

One small, teeny tiny issue. Monique Modol was a hopeless romantic who believed in true love, and the only way to come under her watchful eye was to attend an annual ball, hosted in the mansion at the top of the hill in her just as romantic little hometown. And if her guests didn’t bring a date and seemed to be completely in love… they would get nothing.

Azul was going to fake a relationship.

So, he needed a date. He had it all planned out– they’d get together a month in advance, get to know each other, get used to (and prepare) to act all lovey dovey, get people talking about them as a backup. Azul was convinced he could play the part, but he wasn’t quite sure if his “other half” could.

They’d have to learn Queendom of Roses-slash-Kingdom of Ashes lore, etiquette, and… dance. He dreaded that last part– may he reiterate, that he only acquired his legs two years ago? He knew his way around a basic waltz.

Ideally, his partner would be from the queendom, but Riddle would never allow him to hook his students into his schemes. He has a folder of students from the queendom that aren’t in Heartslabyul stored away in one of the drawers in his desk, and it’s pitifully small.

And they were painfully unremarkable. Azul wanted– no, required– someone of note. Else, part of his plan wouldn’t exactly work.

Floyd had frowned and rubbed the back of his neck when he’d found out the details of said plan.

“You’re not plannin’ on using one of us, are ya?”

Jade, who was serving them tea, twitched and spilled aromatic liquid over the lip of the cup. Azul heard his barely contained snicker and shrunk into his shoulders with a scowl. “Of course not, I’m not stupid enough to fuel you with more things you’d never let me live down.” Despite the scathing comment, both brothers laughed.

Honestly, one of his first ideas had been Jamil.

But he quickly realized that was possibly his worst idea yet. No matter how much he wanted to foster any type of positive relationship, Jamil could not, would not, ever look at him in any amicable way, not even in a fake situation. Second, Jamil had nothing to get out of it. Third, Jamil was glued to Kalim, by obligation.

That idea was topped by an even worse one, which was Idia. He stood out enough that people would immediately notice if they were together. But Idia would most definitely roll over belly up like a dead carnival fish over being the center of attention and attending a ball, and there was no way he’d even bother to learn anything about the Queendom of Hearts. Unless it had to do with one of his interests, like the time he went sledding with Jade.

Also, ah... Idia wouldn’t look at him after practically being shaken down for the bot. He’d fix that later.

Ruggie? No, he would ask for far too much compensation.

Azul was so lost in thought he didn’t hear the muffled sounds of rage and racious laughter coming from just beyond his office doors, until Jade practically busted the doors open with a smile that was all teeth. Behind him was Floyd, trying to contain something red and about half his size, yet he was having the time of his life.

“Okayyy, Goldfishie, we’re hereee!” Floyd singsonged, then unceremoniously dropped the “goldfishie” like deadweight. Azul blinked, still in shock, as Riddle Rosehearts lay on the ground, winded and silently gasping for air like a fish out of water. Silence filled the room, only disturbed by the soft click of the doors as they shut.

“...Jade, Floyd. What is the meaning of this.”

“That’s what I want to know!” Riddle shouted as he picked himself up and brushed wrinkles and dirt from his uniform– how rude, implying his floor wasn't nothing but spotless.

Floyd sighed, his sh*t eating grin faltering. “Uh, the solution to your problem?? You said no Heartslabyul students, not no Heartslabyul housewardens.”

Azul was going to correct that Riddle did count as a Heartslabyul student, and that there were more reasons he’d disregarded him as a candidate, but the gears started turning in his head. The two that were neck-and-neck for first place in academics, (even if one of them completely disregarded the other as valid competition) the rigorous, by the book rule follower and the scheming, slimy, loophole finder? Yes, he could see that garnering people’s attention. It would be foolish to doubt Riddle’s know-how on his own place of origin, and etiquette wouldn’t hold a candle to his own dorm’s rules… the sinister grin that formed on his face blew Jade and Floyd’s out of the water.

“...Riiiiddleee.” He hummed, dragging out the vowels in his fellow housewarden’s name.

He watched his redheaded candidate fail to suppress a shudder. Azul’s shoulders shook in silent laughter.

“What do you know about the Ella’s Slipper Ball?”

Something lit up in the depths of Riddle’s silver eyes, and he swore he saw the strands of hair that stood up on his head to shape a heart perk up like antennae. “The Ella’s Slipper Ball is one of the largest events dedicated to the original culture of the Kingdom of Ashes, hosted by a myriad of sponsors with direct lineage of the original settlers including–”

“Monique Modol, who graciously allows the ball to be held in her manor. Have you heard of her?”

“...I have heard of her charity work, but that can’t possibly be what you’re after.” His tone was almost accusatory.

“No, of course not. Her good graces and a generous donation, however– oh, don’t look at me like that– she’s mad with the concept of true love, and will only extend a hand to those who possess it, you see?” Azul watched Riddle stare him down, trying to figure out his scheme. Throughout the course of their two years, he’s learned the other can be rather uncreative and naive, at times. He’d have to be as blunt as possible.

“...I need a fake boyfriend for two months so she can give me money to open a second Montro Lounge.” Ugh. How completely and utterly tactless. Riddle’s eyes practically bulged out of his head, literally resembling one of those pop-eye goldfish Floyd had snuck into Octavinelle’s tanks in their first year.

“And… what do I have to do with this!?” Riddle sputtered.

“Please, Riddle. You’re smarter than that.” He pushed his glasses back up his nose. “I have a plan, and I’m willing to sacrifice nearly anything for this. I am willing to lock up Floyd in a closet for two months if you just help me.”

Riddle kept staring at him as if he’d suddenly turned into a starfish instead of an octopus while Floyd yelped in offense that he was the one who brought Riddle in in the first place. “I’m being nice about this, if I really wanted to, I could just have Floyd follow you around and not let you do anything in peace–”

Oh, by the Sea Witch, he swore Riddle’s hair stood up in alarm just then, right?

“You already know the headmage has turned a blind eye to worse offenses of mine, but this requires us to be on friendly terms, so what will it be?” Heartslabyul’s housewarden was turning red.

He jiggled his leg impatiently as Riddle continued to stare at him for another minute, sighing at being forced to lay it on extra thick. “Even if I did have someone else, you just proved how knowledgeable you are, and would be a great teacher. I’d ‘ask’ for your help either way.”

He watched his one chance take a breath, and in a small, small voice that still quivered with rage, he asked a question that was music to Azul’s ears.

“...What exactly is your plan?”

“You’ll hear me out? Wonderful!” Azul restrained himself from physically jumping from his seat and cheering. Instead, he waved a hand. “Jade, Floyd!”

The twins smiled and excused themselves, leaving the two on their own. Riddle walked up to the desk without being prompted, but didn’t take a seat. He pulled out his draft contract from the same drawer his queendom students file was in– he’d have no use for that now!

“I intend to start off with a subtle relationship– just being around each other a bit more often. Enough to turn a couple heads and raise eyebrows. We don’t necessarily have to be extremely affectionate, but it is required on the day of the ball. If Monique bothers to ask around, no one will give her any doubts.” He tapped the top half of the paper. His hand moved down to the bullet points. “It’s expected for people in a relationship to know basic information about each other, so a date would be customary.”

Riddle read through and nodded along for the most part, going almost too smoothly for Azul’s liking. Then came the barrage of questions. On. Every. Point.

“Regarding…” He’d certainly been through more greuling deals, sure. But his heart still hammered in his chest as he answered every question. Riddle was good with rules, with law– he was just so diligent in everything! Something other than anxiety stung in his heart.

The time dragged on to a full hour.

As the last of the discussion of terms came to an end, it was finally time to figure out his companion’s side of the deal. He’d keep Floyd away, of course, but that was hardly fair. But he’d already planned something in the back of his mind.

“Hm, Trey makes all your sweets for Unbirthday parties, yes? I borrowed one of your rulebooks, and to my surprise, there isn’t a thing about the way they’re made! As our dear beloved senior is approaching his fourth year, I have come to wonder… who will take on the duty? Will you hope that a freshman will appear with the same abilities as him?” He leaned back into his chair.

“You want to charge me for Unbirthday catering!? Heartslabyul can bake its own pastries without Trey.”

“I like to take advantage of things when I can.” He said sweetly. “But no, no charging, for once. Just me, extending a helping hand..”

Silver eyes hardened into cool steel as he chose his next words carefully.

“For the small price of Octavinelle attending an Unbirthday party!”

A thoughtful expression graced the redhead’s face, which then morphed into a smug smile. “It would certainly… bring attention to us. But I feel that, realistically, if you were to pursue me… romantically, you would have to put forth a stronger effort. Keep your nose a little cleaner.”

Azul looked up in confusion before it clicked. Ah, Land idiom.

“And what, exactly, does that entail?”

“For two months, drop your dirtier agreements, such as paying off the Headmage for having your students listen in on others, and paying them as well.” His smile was looking more… alarming, to say the least, as he continued to speak. “If you’d like to start off as really subtle, may I request we have private lessons for your flight classes? Approximately lets say… forty-five minutes every other day?”

Azul felt a chill wash through his entire body, which was rather odd, considering where he was from. His own smile felt tight. A vision of a “Do it for her” corkboard, pinned with images of the second ever Mostro Lounge floated in his mind’s eye. Wordlessly, he tapped the draft again.

Riddle’s scrutinizing eyes zeroed in on the new fine print under the bottom paragraph. “The participating parties may not rescind this agreement after signing.”

“For both our benefit.” He said with a shrug. For MY benefit.

Oh, Sevens, how he could feel his heart race as Riddle’s hand slowly drifted towards the fishbone pen on his desk, consciously leveling his breathing so he didn’t seem too excited. The pen danced over paper, leaving its fated mark in the form of “RR” in a fancy font with swirly little leaves all around.

Would it be dramatic to say he almost made a highly inappropriate noise?

Azul pulled the contract towards himself, physically trembling. He pulled off a glove and folded it until it could fit into his pocket, then extended the hand. Riddle shook it firmly, eyes still concealing a fire of emotion.

Azul cleared his throat just in case.

“Thank you, you may go.”

He watched Riddle nod and leave, staring at where his head had been long after.

He snapped out of it when Floyd appeared and attempted to take the prized parchment from his hands. He instinctively pulled the paper closer and glared, then relaxed. He couldn't wrinkle something so important. He should make a copy and frame it!

“Congratulations, Azul.” Jade said simply. He grinned, positively giddy with glee, thrusting the contract forward like a child proud of its craft. His shoulders began to shake, followed by a soft, rhythmic wheeze. He threw his head back, howling, and nearly fell out of his chair. He pressed the contract back into his chest.

When he was done laughing, he was left breathless and with tears in his eyes. Azul raised the contract up to the air this time. “Isn’t his signature beautiful?” He sighed dreamily.

“Ugh. You’ve been boyfriends for like, twenty minutes. Why do you sound like a clownfish talking about his favorite sea anemone already?” Floyd drawled while sprawling himself over one of the couches.

“A clownfish talking about his favorite s– sea anemone!?” Azul paled. “This is for the ball, it has nothing to do with an actual relationship! Don’t even– urgh!”

“If you can’t call him your boyfriend, I fear you may not get very far.” Jade said rather unhelpfully. Floyd giggled, fluidly flipped back onto his feet and extended an arm to swipe away Azul’s glasses and wipe a lingering tear. “Jade’s right~ maybe you should repeat that in your head instead of countin' cows to sleep.”

“You count sheep to sleep. Cows jump over the moon.” Azul sighed.

— — —

Azul groaned, and felt his poor legs fold in on themselves as soon as Riddle said that their 45 minutes were up. Two days had passed since their contract was signed, and Riddle had taken full advantage of his side. He’d been approached– no, dragged– by his shorter peer and taken to the field as soon as the school day ended. He held a manila folder of notes on Azul’s flight progress, and was still scribbling in them now. Watching the other fly so fluidly above him the entire time only rubbed salt into the wound.

“Once you’re done with your… break,” Riddle began hesitantly, one eyebrow raised as Azul writhed in the grass face-down. “I’d like to cover our overall schedule. Proper clothing, lodging, and manners. Learning to dance, even without the Queendom’s rules, is an arduous task to complete in a month.”

Azul shot up in a flash. “I contacted some local tailors yesterday, who have some Kingdom and Queendom influence and are waiting for me to give them a date. How about I get changed, and I take you to the lounge for further discussion?” He smiled and placed a hand over his chest, which didn’t look as good as he hoped, since he was still covered in sweat, tears, grass, and metaphorical throw up. And his glasses were crooked.

He wasn’t sure why he was still surprised when he returned from the school’s locker room and saw that Riddle was still waiting. He focused on wiping the droplets of water from his phone screen instead– futile, because his hair was thoroughly soaked.

Azul : Riddle is coming to the lounge. Please prepare an empty booth.

Floyd : you want me to add a tablecloth too
Floyd : flowers?

Jade : Perhaps a nice rock will suffice.

Floyd : too early in the relationship for a rock

Azul : Please stop.

Floyd : if goldfishy were a merman you could just get him a cool doohickey or nicknack

Azul scowled and snapped the leather case shut. “Sorry, just making sure there’s vacant seating.” Riddle nodded, no further questions needed.

They walked in comfortable silence, a foot apart from each other. He liked this, he could feel his confidence growing, the steps in his plan falling into place making him feel like he was ten times lighter.

With his eyes on Riddle’s bright red hair, he broke the precious silence.

“Wait, did you say that the Queendom has rules as well? Not just Heartslabyul?”

The same something flashed again in Riddle’s eyes, and Azul missed the jump his two little hair strands did as those eyes called his attention. “Yes, but most rules have unfortunately fallen out of practice. ‘Plates will not be set on the table before forks for supper on Mondays and knives on Fridays’ is one that is, however. Formal events are stricter. ‘If you step on the skirt of your dance partner, you must balance on the offending foot with a cup of floral tea on your head for the rest of the song.’ is one example.”

“Pardon? That one is the one still in practice?” Azul sputtered.

“Correct.”

The two housewardens continued to converse as they traveled through the mirror to Octavinelle and entered Mostro Lounge, where Jade waved them down to one of the more secluded booths. Azul motioned for Riddle to sit with promises to serve him himself, then whipped out his phone and opened his contacts. “Please exchange our numbers while you wait.”

He returned with a sweetened drink with black tea as a base and strawberry shortcake (which wasn’t on the menu, he had that prepared and stored away just for this occasion) and a bright smile to top it off. Riddle’s expression was that akin to a tempted woodland creature as he spotted the juicy red strawberries. It was almost cute, the way his face genuinely softened and looked a year younger when his eyes widened with childish sentiments that were usually locked away (With the exception of anger). A rare sight indeed– he’d had his eyes on the other student ever since Riddle first scored first on all their exams and rarely caught sight of such a face.

Azul watched Riddle hesitantly accept the food, spear a slice of strawberry that lay in danger of falling off the plate, and nibble on it in an obvious attempt to pace himself. He refrained from laughing by confirming his new contact.

Riddle Rosehearts : Test

Riddle shot him a surprised side eye as he took a seat on the same side of the booth and scooted closer, close enough for their arms and thighs to brush against each other. He rushed a bite of shortcake and coughed.

“Ahem– about our schedule. You mentioned tailors?”

“That’s right. I pulled a few strings so they would give us a bigger window, I know you’re a busy person.” He folded the leather case of his phone back open and took advantage of his new contact, sending their website links.

In turn, the redhead pulled out both his phone and a second folder, not unlike the one he used to take notes of Azul’s flight records, with a blue tag, and spread it out in front of both of them. It was also noticeably thicker. When he paged through it, Azul noticed there were different sections– a two month calendar, printed articles with annotations, and various reference photos of traditional formal clothing in the style of the Kingdom of Ashes.

“Always so prepared, as expected,” He hummed approvingly. “We have a few openings available, all in two weeks.”

“Will they be able to get all that done in two weeks?” Riddle spoke with a hand covering his mouth as he continued to eat the shortcake.

“Oh yes, they’re both aided by magic, it speeds up the process quite a bit. They already have the bases to be fitted, and pre-made designs– much like what Professor Crewel does.”

Between slow bites of shortcake and sips of drink, Riddle scrolled back and forth between the websites with the same scrutinizing eye he did everything. Until, finally—

“Cenizas Tailoring.”

“Oh? What is your reasoning?”

“Cendres Mice and Co. has been in business for generations, but they also have a significant decline in quality throughout said generations; Cenizas Tailoring is new, but the owner has credentials with proof of all the places they’ve been in business, over the span of nearly five decades. Cendres has multiple examples of excellent layering and broad styling– but the current owner specializes in things that are more simple and form-fitting.”

Azul nodded along, Riddle was always just so quick with his deductions, why did he even..? Even his bites were the perfect ratio of cake, strawberry, and cream. Riddle hummed in pleasure.

Ah– wait, Riddle wasn’t even trying to pace himself anymore. His eyes sparkled like sand in the depths of the sea, all but inhaling the sweet treat. This boy just loved to wring him through so many emotions at a time, didn’t he? How was he supposed to survive two months?

“Cenizas it is, then! I do already have a copy of your schedule and occupied dates, so don’t– stop looking at me like that!” He huffed and pushed his glasses up his nose. “As I was saying, I will call and inform them of our decision. What about our…date? And dance practice?”

To his credit, Riddle didn’t choke. (As much as Azul secretly hoped he would.) But he did make a sound that sounds awfully like what he assumed the hedgehogs the boy adored so much made.

“...If you do have my schedule, you would know that I am busy this week.”

“Of course, I was thinking we could align both the date of our date with our first dance rehearsal–”

“And how frequent would that be? Daily?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to take up that much of your time, what would become of your grades?”

“It would take far more for my grades to slip.”

With the plate polished and the glass empty, Riddle’s focus shifted to the calendar in his folder and Azul. His steel colored eyes twinkled differently this time, and he just couldn't pry his own away from them. They truly were like gemstones, each side making it reflect in a new way.

This time they matched with a slight smirk, body angled slightly towards him, elbow propped on the table, it just oozed confidence. His heart felt another pinch.

“Okay, daily. An hour before your curfew, two on weekends. Starting Monday, next week.” He took the folder in one hand and magic pen in the other and scribbled out the following weeks. Riddle huffed and crossed his arms, but didn’t object.

“It’s all settled, then.” He took the folder back and shut it, storing it back in his bag.

Azul slowly reached and placed a hand over Riddle’s, lacing his fingers in between the gaps of the other boy’s. Even if they were both wearing gloves, touching is a big deal for people from the Coral Sea, but it was the perfect gesture above land, he learned so while pouring over the details of his plan and researching what exact behaviors were considered intimate. (Which also led to some… rather unsavory results. Results he’d rather not be reminded of.)

“Then I look forward to… seeing you again at the Unbirthday party.”

Riddle’s cheeks puffed up as he pouted, but it didn’t hide the slight red that creeped into the tips of his ears and the back of his neck. “I expect you to behave.”

“It all depends on the resolve of your card soldiers~” He gave Riddle’s hand a slight squeeze before letting go and getting up. He gestured with an arm to lead him out.

The number of people who were in the lounge had decreased with the ending of the after-school rush, but he could still acutely feel the eyes of the lingering customers. This was the second time this week Riddle was seen in Octavinelle– and this time Azul was practically arm-in-arm with him. His smile became genuine as more steps of his plan fell in place.

Right before Riddle stepped out of the lounge’s doors, he paused.

“...The food was good. Thank you.”

— — —

Azul brought his plush blanket up to his shoulders, dead tired from the emotional rollercoaster he’d experienced today, reviewing a mental checklist of the day’s events– a whole tray of glasses had to be replaced after two Pomfiore students broke them and tried to blame it on one of their regulars because they were a Savanaclaw student, they’d received a fresh restock of lobster and butter, which was normally a good thing, if they still didn’t have plenty of the last restock, and Riddle—

Riddle. He jolted as if he’d been electrocuted.

In a rush, Azul pushed off his covers and pulled his phone off its wireless charger, fingers flying across the screen.

Azul Ashengrotto : Good night, Riddle.

And with that, he rolled over, ignoring the buzz that followed shortly after.

He dreamt of numbered red hedgehogs marching in a perfect line and goldfish jumping long arcs over the moon.

Chapter 2: Clause 2

Chapter Text

Riddle woke up precisely at six AM, courtesy of his alarm. He brushed his teeth, ironed his shirt, double-checked his bag to make sure he had all of his homework. He frowned, realizing one corner of his history homework has crumpled slightly. Other than that, everything was going as usual–

…Including the buzz from his phone, no doubt in his mind that it was Azul. He's been sending good morning and good night texts for the past two days, always just as Riddle was ready for the day. Yesterday, he'd even asked him how his day went!

Riddle replied, of course, it was impolite not to. He could count the amount of the people who regularly greeted him in the morning on one hand, now including Azul :

"Good morning, Riddle. I trust you slept all eight of your hours well?" His own mother,

"Ah, Riddle… did you sleep well?" Trey,

“Good morning, Housewarden!” Cater, Ace, Deuce, and the rest of his card soldiers.

Azul's texts had the same disingenuous air of friendliness that he did, purely for the act. It left a bad taste in his mouth to let the octopus even have his number in the first place. This morning’s message was slightly different.

Azul Ashengrotto : Good morning, Riddle, I trust you remember that today is the date of our Unbirthday Party?

He huffed to himself as he left his room, of course he would remember, just what was Azul playing at? And what was with the “our”?

Riddle Rosehearts : It is my duty to remember. It would reflect poorly on me as both the housewarden and a member of Heartslabyul to forget.

He checked his phone again once he descended the stairs. It was dangerous to check one’s phone while walking.

Azul Ashengrotto : Oh? My sincerest apologies.
Azul Ashengrotto: But it seems like you have forgotten something else. :)

He scrolled through their recent messages, what could he possibly have missed? He foolishly spent a full five minutes looking for anything when Azul beat him to it.

Azul Ashengrotto : Need a hint?
Azul Ashengrotto : “Good morning, Azul. I hope you slept well.” ;)

Riddle Rosehearts : Good morning.

Riddle put his phone into his pants pocket with a pout and knocked on the kitchen’s door frame. Trey and his team of freshmen greeted him with vigor– they’d been up preparing extra treats for their guests an hour earlier, he guessed. He could still remember their reactions.

He’d stormed in, still angry at himself for letting himself somehow fall into one of Azul’s traps and ordered a meeting be held immediately in their dorm’s court. His soldiers shifted uneasily at his demeanor, thinking they were the cause of his ire, surely.

“Everyone! Our Unbirthday has to be extra perfect this time around!” He began, soldiers huffing and puffing as if that wasn’t demanded of them every time. Riddle’s face reddened and he grit his teeth, making them straighten back up just from fear.

“We will be having special guests; Azul and a portion of his students from Octavinelle will be joining us.”

The members of Heartslabyul retained their composure, barely. A groan here, a gasp there– a “What the hell??” and “What the f*ck?” from somewhere in the back– Octavinelle, of all dorms? The same Octavinelle Riddle vigorously warned them to stay away from? He could practically hear their thoughts, and he couldn’t deny them. He’d signed a contract with Azul. He masked his shame with more rage, a vein popping out of his forehead.

“Not a single rose thorn out of place! Heartslabyul must be in perfect order! Do you hear me!?”

“Yes, Housewarden!”

“And if I hear of any of you getting hooked into any of their schemes, heads will roll!”

“Loud and Clear, Housewarden!”

How hypocritical.

“Riddle, Good morning.” Trey hummed pleasantly and left his spot at the food processor to hand him a tupperware, still hot– it was a stack of breakfast sandwiches. Egg, ham, and vegetable all arranged in between round bread. He didn’t have the biggest palette, sure, but he knew they smelled divine, and that was quite enough for him.

“Thank you. Preparations are going well?”

“Yes, the bases are getting finished, and with the extra help, the fillings are done. We’ll be ready very soon.”

Riddle nodded, and headed towards the dining table, preoccupied with the preparations. The roses were being handled by the third years, trusting their seniority. The second years had a year’s experience under their belt and knew the order of which to set the tables. That left the first years to control the flamingos and hedgehogs, and while it made him uneasy, he couldn't doubt how well some of them worked with them.

Even the taste of the sandwiches couldn't very well mask the sour note in his mouth as he thought of the reason why he was so determined to make this Unbirthday good. He’d gone through the contract the best he could, and figured bearing two months of pretending to be close with Azul wouldn’t be hard, but now he was realizing how far out of his depth he was.

He got up and slapped his palms against the table. He had work to do.

— — —

Extra tables and chairs were set out, the roses were all evenly coated in red paint, the animals were in line, and so were the students. Riddle waited at the end of them as the mirror shimmered and a boy strutted through smoothly, clutching a gray fedora. His silvery blue eyes were hidden by the glare of the sun reflecting on his glasses, but Riddle could still feel them on him.

More students, in purple shirts and black suits, pourned in in a similar organized fashion as Heartslabyul’s, followed behind two identical, tall figures. One swayed with an odd gait, a grin plastered on his face as he observed the card soldiers like prey. The black streak on the left side of his face bounced with his movements, yet Riddle could tell that he was being much more contained than he usually was. He wondered idly what exactly Azul had done to him.

The other one walked as smoothly as his housewarden, hand on his chest with a much more subtle smirk, it was almost as if he was still in water. His narrowed eyes suggested he was having as much fun with the prospect of the Unbirthday party as his twin.

“Azul. Welcome to Heartslabyul.”

“Riddle! I must thank you again for allowing us to attend such a traditional festivity.”

Riddle’s jaw twitched, yet, miraculously, he maintained his composure. “Of course. Come– let my soldiers guide you to your seats.”

At his cue, the students stood at the front moved to guide Octavinelle’s, even pulling out the chairs. Riddle himself motioned for his fellow housewarden to come closer, and lead him to his personal table, where a regular chair accompanied the usual throne. Azul looked surprised when he sat in the chair instead.

“You’re a guest. And one of honor, sit.” Riddle insisted, and smiled with satisfaction when he obeyed, cool grays and purples standing out against all the red.

— — —

“How regal. You truly look like the pictures of the Sea King we would revise back in middle school.” Jade said as he sidled up to Azul. The Unbirthday party had moved onto the croquet tournament, and Riddle, as always, was in the lead. Being told “Hedgehogs and flamingos are used to play croquet in Heartslabyul” was one thing, seeing it in action was another. One worried for the strength of the flamingo’s necks, who were held upside down and beaks used to propel the spiny mammals.

“Aughh, dammit!” Ace Trappola cursed as he finished his turn, in tie for second place with his senior, Cater Diamond. His fuschia flamingo’s already unruly feathers puffed out as it stamped its feet, sharing his frustration.

“Language.” Riddle murmured, his scarlet flamingo blinked idly, neck curled around its player’s– in contrast to Ace’s, not a feather stood out of place, poised regally with one leg up. His fingers gently grazed its wing, and for a moment, Azul wished he would get to experience such gentleness. A silly, stupid thought he dismissed as fast as it materialized.

“Dammit is like, the weakest on the cursing sale.” Ace retorted.

“You’re kinda being a sore loser, Acey– it’s not a good look for the camera.” Cater cooed, posed for yet another selfie. Somehow, he’d managed to get his carrot-colored flamingo to perch on him, neck coiled around his much like Riddle’s and wings opened in the shape of a heart. It had an affinity for the camera, just like Cater, angling its head in different angles as soon as it heard the shutter.

“You don’t even have your head in the game!” The first year squawked in tandem with the fuchsia flamingo, and in the distance, a little pink hedgehog spiked its quills against an orange one.

Azul hummed, side eyeing the other Leech, who was drinking up every movement and exchange in the game.

“At least the King was big enough to fit his throne. I’m of average height, and yet I still look comically small. I want to know what Riddle looks like.”

“You can just look at Cater’s Magicam.” Floyd spoke up and waved his phone haphazardly. It was opened up to a post made only forty-seven seconds ago, a collection of Cater and his flamingo posed while being looked down on by the camera, and some of Ace, quote, “being a sore loser”.

Azul pulled out his phone to do just that, happy to see that it was all aesthetically organized.

“You are showing quite an interest in this little sport.”

“I didn’t know it was like this. You gotta convince these funny little creatures to work with ya. And they come in colors– look at that little guy go!” Floyd cackled as Deuce overshot his bright cerulean hedgehog. “But they're so determined, just like mackerel.” He angled his head to where Deuce stood, hips jutting out like some sort of punk and a puzzled expression. His flamingo stood rigidly; eyes narrowed. As if neither could figure out how they failed.

Aha, there was one– Azul clicked on the tiny, pixelated square of Riddle, catching the caption first.

“Isn't our little queen so charming?? #Heartslabyul #UnbirthdayParty #Unbirthday_Party #NRC #NightRavenCollege #Night_Rave...

Charming, was an understatement. A deep, deep understatement– he looked far from ridiculous, even if he was dwarfed by the chair. The space between his head and the top of the throne looked like it was fully intentional, the ruffles and cape from his uniform taking over the space he could not fill. He had his legs crossed and a cheek leaned against his hand, elbow on the armrest, scepter loosely held by the other, all complimented by a haughty expression. With the quality of the camera of Cater's phone, if you looked and zoomed in closely enough (which Azul very much was) you could even see the natural red tips and roots of his eyelashes peeking out from his mascara, shielding most of the view of his stormy steel eyes.

Inexplicably, Azul felt himself fluster and shut his phone in a flash, looking back at the game.

A choice he soon regrets.

He's already so many points ahead that it doesn't matter if there's plenty more time left, and he knows it. He wears the same haughty expression and the way he poses to strike– Azul forgets how to think. He sees Cater whip out his phone and snap multiple pictures, and he feels relief– relief it'll be posted to Magicam, that he'll be able to see that moment again, frozen forever in time. Sevens above, it makes his heart hammer.

And then he feels a metaphorical record scratch happen in his mind. Why did he feel this way? What was going on with him? He ducked his head, rubbing his warm, blue face.

The tweels share a knowing look with each other, one that Azul fails to catch.

— — —

Riddle flounced onto his seat beside Azul, absolutely satisfied with having won the croquet tournament once again. Huffing in laughter at Azul’s empty praises, he doesn’t need any compliments. He keeps an eye on the animals, who, he noticed, were not put away properly, instead allowed to roam freely. Floyd was giggling and mingling with most of them, having taken to poking the hedgehogs and calling them “land pufferfish” and “land lionfish”.

The pastries were now being passed around, Riddle, anticipating the strawberry tart dedicated to him, peeled off his gloves eagerly. Azul followed suit, he noted that there was a small opening in the palm, held closed by a small button. His hair perked forwards like dog’s ears as Trey arrived with the tart– not before making Jade laugh so hard he needed to support himself on a table with a “Trey with a Tray” joke.

In the process of organizing the spread of food, the tupperware of sandwiches somehow became the centerpiece.

“Hm? Those– I wasn’t able to finish them. Trey made them for me for breakfast.”

“Personal catering from your vice housewarden?”

“He’s kind.”

“I see. He’s biased.”

“...Have one, if you like. I can’t possibly eat them all before they spoil.”

Trey laughed and adjusted his glasses. “I went on autopilot. I didn’t mean to make so many, but I was still hoping you’d eat them all– please do take one.”

Azul slowly reached out and took one, still warm. “Really?..If you insist.”

His eyes widened as he took a bite, sucking in a breath. “These– these are amazing! The egg is just the right consistency of fluffy, while the yolk is cooked enough not to be runny. The bread flakes yet doesn’t leave a texture in your mouth and it’s airy in a way I can’t quite think of, right now– the ham isn’t ham at all. It’s turkey! Even though it’s been in warm tupperware for at least two hours, the lettuce is as crunchy as it would be when it’s just picked–”

He coughed, ears and cheeks turning indigo when he realized he was rambling. Trey and Riddle were not helping with their expressions.

“I didn’t know you could discern flavors and ingredients that well. You do run a restaurant for a reason, I suppose.” Trey chuckled, hand back on his glasses.

“They are masterfully crafted! I regret not being able to get my hands on you before Riddle did.”

“I.. sure. That’s an Azul compliment, alright.”

“All I ever tell him is that his things are delicious, he deserves some better praise every now and then.” Riddle interjected. He was smiling brightly, thankfully, this Unbirthday was going quite smoothly.

…He cleared his throat, that stack of plates to his left looked rather interesting.

“If you enjoy them so much, you can take the rest. I trust you to return the tub on time.” Trey shot him a curious look but took his cue and left. His “boyfriend” looked startled yet smiled. He finished his sandwich and very greedily slid the tupperware towards him, then wiped his fingers with a napkin and put his gloves back on.

The Unbirthday went on as one usually did, the air filling with chatter. Octavinelle and Heartslabyul were getting on quite well, especially their housewardens.

“‘Zuuuuul. Look, look!” Floyd broke their peace, covered in hedgehogs, even ones that didn’t participate. He gently plopped down a simple brown creature in between them. Riddle lit up and scooped it up almost in an instant, even pulling out a spare teacup and easing it into it.

“His name is Paul.”

The eel did some sort of squeal at seeing Paul in a cup. “Paul? Why he so brown.”

“I don’t know. According to Cater, Trey, and Ace, Paul just appeared in the pen one day, in the same year Ace’s older brother attended. No matter what magic we use, his colors don’t change.” Riddle spoke fondly– he personally fell in love with Paul at first sight, on his third day of attending.

“Reproduction?” Azul offered.

“No, all the hedgehogs have lived here since Heartslabyul was established. They are spayed and neutered, and there’s rather ancient– now illegal– magic on them to keep them alive. Paul might be some sort of prank, but that doesn’t excuse his aversion to magic.”

“These hedgehogs are older than us??”

“Hehe, he’s just like me. You got a lil’ unique magic of your own, do ya, little guy? Paul? You little copycat, youuu~”

“That’s right. Same goes for the flamingos.”

Azul eyed the animals with newfound respect Riddle had once experienced. They’d been servicing the dorm for croquet for decades, and technically, were their seniors. While they were a bit silly, they had some genuine advice to give once you learned how to speak with them. Riddle admired them greatly.

Floyd laughed and slunk off to join the flamboyance of flamingos. Riddle watched him go. That was the tamest and most pleasant he’d ever seen Floyd be. His hair twitched; he was wondering what Azul had done to him again.

Riddle believed everyone should be able to enjoy such animals, so he completely forgot he was even talking to Azul. “Come, come. Meet Paul properly.”

“Alright?”

His silver-haired peer cautiously extended a hand towards the hedgehog..

Riddle suddenly caught Azul’s hand by the wrist, deftly twisting it to face upwards and undoing the little button before the palm the same way he’d seen him do it. He slid off the glove and fully intended to properly fold it and place it next to Azul, when something else caught his attention. He cupped the hand in both of his, thumbs pressing gently at its center.

“..You're warm.” He murmured.

A furious shade of indigo took over the entirety of Azul’s face– not that Riddle noticed– as he sputtered, so dumbfounded he didn’t pull his hand away. Instead, he pushed his glasses up his nose with his free hand.

“What's… wh– a– ah– Pardon!?”

“You’re warm. Floyd, in temperature, is freezing– and Jade is quite similar. I assumed you would be the same.”

“T– that's… Ahem– That's it? You startled me.” Azul sighed, blue fading quickly from his face. “..I have heard people complain about something like that, I never really took notice, myself.”

“I apologize for my assumption, either way, it was unfair of me.”

“It’s not a problem. Why did you need to take my glove off, though? I could've done it myself.”

“I– I reacted. Paul isn’t very fond of gloves. I don’t want to reimburse whatever ridiculous price you could ask for it.” Riddle sniffed.

“A little rude of you to assume things after apologizing for assuming things– I will let you off the hook this time, because you're right. These gloves are custom made with a custom design out of the finest–”

It's impolite to tell people to shut up. It is, however, debatable if it's impolite to pull someone's hand towards a hedgehog to 'convince' them to stop speaking. It worked either way. Paul's quills flexed as he shrunk down instinctually at Riddle’s enthusiasm. His little forepaws extended to brush the closest finger– the middle one– and then, a tiny tongue darted out to give it a lick.

Azul made an odd noise, jerking and poking Paul in the nose with a nail. Paul bit him in return.

“Will you stop– agh, the tickles– ow??”

“Careful.”

“Your precious hedgehog is the one being disrespectful.” Riddle couldn’t help but snort inelegantly. He let go, Azul was free to interact with Paul as he pleased.

At times like this, Riddle wished he had the swift hands and know-how that Cater had with his own phone, the natural lighting illuminating Azul’s hair so much it practically made a halo, the thinner stands became see-through. His eyes were wide and confused– or curious? As Paul gently held onto his fingertip and gave it a lick of apology. Riddle noticed that they were more blue than silver. He also couldn’t help but notice how much the beauty mark stood out, placed not so far from his rather plump lips, which were just slightly parted…

How… curious. He glanced up at the sky, seeing only a single stray stratus cloud, far from the sun. Perhaps that’s why he was feeling warmer.

He focused his sights on Paul and his cute little tongue, the tiny wiggle of his adorable little nose. Hedgehogs were just the cutest little things, weren’t they?

It was rude to stare, anyway. Especially at a guest.

— — —

Riddle sat in his chair at the lounge, he hadn’t realized how exhausted it’d made him. Everything was cleaned, and he’d lent a hand in part of it. Many soldiers were surprised at that, and his light mood– he’d jumped through one hurdle.

“You were unexpectedly chummy with Azul.” Trey murmured, who was leaned back in his seat, equally exhausted.

“I’m simply humoring him.” He pouted and crossed his legs.

“Humoring? You came off quite strongly when you told everyone Octavinelle’d be attending.” Trey spoke mildly. He could feel the unspoken question over his behavior at the party just from the look of his bronze eyes and quirked eyebrow.

“..Was it really that important?”

“...No, it was not. Just not expected. I do want it back though.”

The other three didn’t question their conversation, far too used to their context-less conversations and too tired to bother.

“Man, but why Octavinelle? You yelled at me, collared me, and made me write an apology letter for getting involved with them, and now you’re all buddy buddy with Azul? I don’t get it.”

“He offered me something– no, I didn’t take it– but he threatened not to back off, so I’m entertaining him.”

Another lie. It coated his tongue with a bitter sensation like oil. Trying to tell himself it was more of a half-truth felt equally as bad– how did Ace do this so often?

A bout of questions arose from all four around him. He rubbed an eye and sighed, he was– he was sleepy. That’s what he was. The heart on his head drooped like a wilted flower.

“Enough of this, there was something I was hoping to talk to you about, Cater.”

Cater’s face went blank with the expression of someone going through a mental list of what they possibly could have done– he knew it well, it was one many students of Heartslabyul wore when he singled them out. Could it be that the roses were painted unevenly? The wrong teapot was used? Did he simply not conduct himself in a proper manner?

Riddle bit the inside of his cheek. Was this too much to ask? He didn't exactly… want to do this alone. How much could he ask of his friends??

“.....I have a date.”

He expected uncertain reactions (Trey) and rambunctious reactions (Ace) but he underestimated them. His ears hurt from the shouts of surprise and Trey's glasses even fell off his face. Cater grinned widely in contrast to all the others and snapped his fingers into the shape of a finger gun. “Well then, I didn’t know we have #Rizzle Rosehearts over here! And you're gonna ask me to help you find something to wear, aren't you? I've never seen you wear anything other than the uniform.”

“Wait wait wait, are you just going to completely skip over the fact that Riddle has a date?”

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing with Ace, but how did that happen?”

“Why does everyone say that when–”

Riddle tapped the end of his scepter against the ground twice, effectively silencing the group. “I was the one who– who was asked out”

“Wow, congratulations, boss!”

“That’s even worse! How do you, of all people, get a girl to look at you before, like, Trey?”

Riddle bit his lip. A girl? He hadn’t even thought about how it would come across. He’d never said anything about any romantic perefrances, after all.

Goodness gracious, he wasn’t even sure of his own preferences! He just agreed to this!

“That’s right, I was surprised as well, but I have… her number, and we have an agreed time, s–he said she has a location in mind.” He mumbled, it wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t the absolute truth– it was ingrained in him to avoid lying at all costs even before he could walk. All because Azul wanted to avoid directly admitting to their (fake) relationship until later on.

Cater was grinning ear to ear with his hands to his chin. “Seems legit! Congrats, like, seriously. What do you have in your closet?”

“I don’t have any other clothes at all.”

“Erm, none at all? FR?”

“What, did your mom pick out your clothes for you, too?”

“...”

“Dude– you’re kidding me. Seriously?”

“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with having your mom pick out your clothes.”

“‘Course you would say that, momma’s boy.”

“My mom is a very good mom! I’m proud of her!”

He was grateful for them all, truly, but they were a bit too much, at times. Especially today. Riddle found himself hunched down before he felt a poke at his shoulder. It was Cater, silently signaling him to get up. He led him down the third year hall and leaned against a wall.

“Okayyy, now spill the deets.”

“I think you are getting too much enjoyment out of this.”

“Shhh– hello? I asked you for. the. details.”

“...I don’t know, Cater. She wants to take me out to eat.”

“Oho, fancy?”

“Obviously.”

“Then we’re going shopping right now! Not just for your date, but for you closet, too! I know you don’t have anything else to do after Unbirthdays.”

Riddle sputtered, hair strands standing up and giving him a whole extra four inches of height. “Right– right now? I study!”

Cater made an advance towards him, hooking their arms together, ready to take off immediately. A student came to his rescue.

“Housewarden!! This was at your table.” They cried out and thrusted forward a pair of gloves, a pair and a half– his own black, forearm length ones, and a white, silky glove with a hole where the palm would be, and a button to close at the wrist.

“..Ah.”

Azul had forgotten his glove.

— — —

Azul tossed and turned in bed, clutching his hand to his chest. He could still feel the ghostly touch of Riddle’s fingers across his skin. The delicate hold of his palms. His own mortifyingly embarrassing response to being caught off-guard.

“You’re warm.”

As much as he refused to admit it, Azul was a pitiful sucker (Ha!) for genuine compliments. He tried to reason with the unreasonable part of his brain that it was just an observation, but his face stayed the same stifling warm temperature and his stomach rolled and flipped for no reason. He punched a pillow in a fit of rage.

Not complemented for his diligence, his effort, his style, no. He was called warm.

I’m warm.

“Urgh! What in Hades is wrong with me!?”

He grabbed the pillow he just assaulted and a blanket that he didn’t bother folding, abandoned his glasses and phone, and left his quarters in favor of the second year hall. There, he promptly stopped at a certain door and took full advantage of his strength to kick the door open.

Jade and Floyd’s heads snapped up from what they were doing– Jade painting Floyd’s nails various odd, contrasting colors– but visibly relaxed when they saw that it was just him. He walked up to Jade’s empty bed and threw the pillow, the blanket, and himself onto it. He was aware how ridiculous it looked and was aware of the probable pout on his lips.

“Damn, ‘Zul, when was the last time you did that?” Floyd snickered.

“After he ate an entire–”

“Do NOT go there, Jade Leech.”

Actually, he could really go for something fried and fatty, right about now. Layers of crunchy, golden breadcrumbs falling apart to reveal hot, rich, mouth watering meat. Oh, how he craved it so.

Azul groaned for an entirely different reason this time. He kicked his feet and made himself a cocoon with both his and Jade’s blankets, nothing but his face above his nose popping out. Mmm, the visual of dabbing a napkin to pull away excess oil danced behind his eyes now, crushing the shell of a crustacean between his teeth with ease and gorging on the prize hidden inside…

“Khee hee. Azul~ you’re getting drool all over Jade’s bed. Wha’cha thinkin’ about?” Floyd stretched as far as he could in the desk chair and with his brother holding his hand steady.

“Nothing.” He said quickly. Too quickly.

“If you willingly think about food hard enough to drool straight through a blanket, I think you’re trying to iiiiignoooore~ something~”

He grumbled and sunk further into the blanket, feeling the large wet spot where he’d drooled over on his forehead. It was actually quite comfortable otherwise, small and dark, the way he always liked it.

“Riddle says you two are cold.”

“Oh? Did your boyfriend talking about us make you jealous? I don’t believe it’s our fault landfolk have such thin skin.” Jade finally spoke up, just to make fun of him. Ridiculous. Ridiculous, both of them! Why did he come here??

“No! I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

One of them cackled uncontrollably. Someone inexperienced may have assumed it was Floyd, but he knew by heart it was Jade.

“What’s so funny?”

Jade looked like he’d been caught in the middle of a crime– no, he would have grinned even if he was drenched head-to-toe in blood. The only reason he’d never been is because blood doesn’t stick to you in the water, in fact. His brother snatched the polish away from him as he burst into a fit of laughter again.

“Trey– ghhhaHAHAH.. khhghahAHHAHAHA–Trey with– with a Tray!”

“It’s not that funny..” Floyd grumbled, angling his fresh hand of nails in the air, admiring their sheen while waiting for Jade to wear himself out. “‘Nyways, what’s actually up? You’re gonna yell at us for lettin’ you go haywire, so just spit it out.”

“...”

“‘Zul,”

“Goodnight!”

He curled further into himself. He remembered the first and only time he had a hamburger. Delicious ground beef, soft cheese, lettuce, onions, pickles, and bread decorated with sesame seeds. He had to squeeze it to cram a single bite into his mouth. Oh, how he craved another one of those. It was a terrible idea, but maybe he could find a recipe tomorrow… or try to replicate Trey’s breakfast sandwiches. That sounds lovely.

The two eels shared another look– something in between giddy and annoyed. As if they shared the biggest joke in the world.

In a way, they did– they were friends with Azul Ashengrotto, after all. It didn’t get better than that.

Chapter 3: Clause 3

Chapter Text

If you asked Riddle how he’d made it into the uptown mall in the town in the middle of Sage’s Island with four members of Heartslabyul and was now browsing clothing for himself, he couldn’t tell you.

Well, of course he could tell you, they took three buses and walked a block to get there. But that wasn’t the point– the point was that he was shuffling awkwardly into a store, clinging onto Cater’s arm like a lost child, in his regular shoes and uniform pants, a T-shirt and a checkered button up shirt that once had been Cater’s on top of that shirt– which he insisted be unbuttoned. That it looked “better that way” how could that be?

He was lucky that there was no one else but them and the employees, especially for a mall store at 10 AM on a Saturday.

Cater ran his fingers through a rack of fancy black blouses while humming to the tune playing on the store speakers, a far cry of what he’d looked like earlier that morning. “Oh, by the way, you have any texture aversions? Like, maybe, thick wool? Double layers?”

“Pshaww, you’re supposed to tough that out like a real man.” Ace snorts.

“I tried, Acey. Couldn’t even last enough to get a good picture, now I just have a ton of fishnet in the back of my closet.”

Deuce’s head snapped, eyes bright. “Fishnet? Like the shirts and leggings?”

“Yup yup! The whole nine yards. You want ‘em?”

“Oh, no– I could never– they’re the trademark of the gang next town over, ‘an they’re damn pain ‘n the ass. They’d block the main road between our towns and play dumb when they encroached on our turf, once, I– urk! Wait, no!” He turned pale and brought a hand to his mouth in embarrassment.

“Wait, it was just getting good! What’d you do to them, Juice??”

“N– no! Force it outta me, I dare you!”

An employee coughed and gently reminded them to quiet down.

He felt a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. Riddle leaned in closer, knowing it was Trey just from the size of the hand and the soft smell of flour and sugar. “Uhm, just pick out anything for me, please.”

“Okie-dokie~”

Trey guided him to one of the benches nearby and he sat. He wasn’t tired, but he closed his eyes and listened to the ambience– the music on the speakers, the hums from Cater, the hushed bickering from Ace and Deuce and even Trey’s steady breathing.

That morning, Riddle woke up not from his alarm, but from people bursting into his room. Cater, Trey, Ace and Deuce filed in, all but one still half asleep. That one had a stack of shirts on top of a box he was carrying.

“#RiseAndShine, housewarden! We’re going out bright and early today to fill that wardrobe!” Cater cheered.

“...sh*t, you really do have a nice room. And your own bathroom…” Ace mumbled, taking a seat right on his bed.

Riddle tried to warn Ace about his use of language, but it also came out as an unintelligible mumble. And he could taste his own hair in his mouth.

“Look, I’ve got some of my old stuff from my first year and we’re going out early because, well, the mall we’re going to is kindaaaa far? And we’re all going in #casual, no uniforms!”

“Mm…” Was all he could muster while stretching.

“You still have your card soldier uniform?”

Riddle yawned, making some sort of sound of confirmation and trying to properly get out of bed, only to bump into Ace. He fought his sheets (Ace) for a good five minutes until he was properly awake, which ended with a shout and “Off with Your Head!”

Once he’d done most of his morning routine, Cater instructed him to pull out his old dorm uniform that seemed to astonish the first years quite a bit, and put on the T-shirt that went under the vest. It fit him the exact same as the last day he wore it, which was more than a year ago. Slightly disappointing.

“Wait, Riddle, dude, are… you okay?” Cater paused mid unsolicited photoshoot with genuine concern.

“What?”

“Your feet, you’re not standing like that on purpose, are you?”

Four pairs of eyes looked down to Riddle’s feet; only the tips of his feet touched the floor, as if he was still wearing heels. They gaped while he sighed.

“I’m okay. I must’ve been so busy this week that I neglected my calf exercises.”

“Ohh, gotcha! My sister had these boots with heels that she was ooobsessed with and wouldn’t wear any other shoes for a year and then her calves wouldn’t go down– but the doctor told her to stop wearing heels altogether? You just do the stretches?”

He nodded.

“T–that can happen? So many people wear heels around here…”

He coughed and flushed, forcing his heels to lay flat on the ground and ignoring the tense strain of his muscles and the uncomfortable tingly sensation all over. Maybe he really should purchase some flatter shoes. “Sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“Rid–”

“Quick, all of you, pick a shirt!” Cater broke the heavy mood with his usual cheer, waving his hand like a showman– shirts lay displayed all over his bed, one comically, draped over Ace on the bed. They hung even on the curtains and bed frame. When had he done that– did he use magic?

“Ah!! The– striped one!”

“Checkers?”

“This one.” Ace grabbed the shirt on his stomach, the “striped one”.

Eyes turned on him, feeling embarrassed all over again. They expected him to pick a shirt, too?

“...the one with the checkers.” It came out soft and unsure, much more like a small child than their strict housewarden.

“So do I! Checkers wins!” Still completely unsure and bewildered of just what they were doing, Riddle squealed when two Caters pulled him closer and suddenly started to hover and pin various accessories and the shirt inches away from his face and body.

“Mmm, the shirt's still too big? Maybe I resized it and I don’t remember..?” One of them mused.

“Why do you even have shirts Riddle’s size?” ‘His’ size. How he detested that– but Ace was still wearing the collar from earlier. He still debated undoing it just to collar him again.

“I was only a few inches taller than Riddle here in my first year~ I have pictures somewhere.” Cater chirped and passed the shirt onto the second Cater to pull out his phone, seconds stretching into awkward, quiet minutes as he tapped through it.

Cater Two holds the shirt up with a winking eye and pulls out his magic pen and a spool of red thread– again, where was all this stuff coming from–? In one smooth motion, the pen cuts through the seams effortlessly. The spool of thread glows, unravels and disappears, forming new stitching on the shirt– he recognizes that spell, different from the practical magic Cater was failing. In his first year, a few freshmen had ordered lab coats of the wrong size and Professor Crewel had thrown a fit, but done the same spell to cut off the excess; it was a difficult magic that required knowing almost the exact proportions of clothing…

Then again, it was Cater, of course he'd know how to do this flashy magic but not a simple automation spell.

“Aha! Here, take a look.” He passed his phone towards the other ginger, open to a photo folder.

“Bleh, it's weird to know you guys were our age once.”

The room calmed down, Riddle's attention being called back to Cater, who let him put on the shirt, which now fit him well– he spotted the thin excess strip of cloth that had been magicked away in the other's back pocket. The gentle pats and tugs to smooth out imperfections and brush off invisible dust were oddly reminiscent of his mother, but, admittedly… gentler. He barely felt the pin that Cater slid into the right side of his hair and pulled out, calloused fingers brushing his face when his red hair was tucked back into place.

As soon as he was done, he turned into an ace of diamonds with a thumbs up and grin.

“Oops. Holy sh*t, what's with all these folders?”

“Language.”

Ace completely ignored him. He really should collar him again. “Centre Town, QoR, Lake Flamboyance, QoR, Centre Town, QoR again, Krokspine, Sunset Savannah, North Forrest, Shaftlands, Thomasville, Shaftlands, brbrbrbrrbbblblbl– wait, what's this one?”

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa WHOA– Acey, do not touch that one–”

“Why, what's in here??” Ace challenged, shrinking back from Cater's hand reaching for his phone.

“Blood, gore, a lot of screaming. I'm being srs here, my leg is bent the wrong way in one of those, give it BACK–”

“What does that mean?? Now I have to look!”

Riddle watched Ace nimbly dodge more attempts at the phone, all while sitting in place and scrolling through the folder– a life of having an older brother that tried to do the same thing to him one too many times. Cater squawked as Ace's palm smacked him straight in the face, shoving his face upwards and disorienting him. His bed was a complete mess now, as Ace somehow ended up on his back, half under the sheets, keeping his senior away with his feet. No one protested, mostly because they didn't know what to do.

Riddle and Deuce? Only children, one who's only experience with fights were the ones he stopped from occurring and the other with too much experience of the extreme kind. And Trey, who's preferred method of aggravation was strictly verbal.

If he had a sibling, his mother would have never let them roughhouse in such a manner.

“Oh, that’s a lot of blood…” Ace’s face scrunched up in distaste, then looked like he struck gold. “Trey! You gotta see this!”

“f*ckf*ckf*ck, ACE!” Cater’s voice heightened in pitch and he fought against the younger boy’s legs with more urgency. “NOT THAT VIDEO, WTF?”

Ace’s thumb found the volume button and raised it to the max, flipping it so that the rest could see the tiny screen– a video of Cater, who couldn’t be any older than twelve had his head tilted upwards. A girl with equally orange hair in a loose braid lorded over him, holding pliers over bright green braces. She muttered darkly when he whined, telling him to sit still.

Riddle didn’t have to look at Trey to know how horrified he looked. He could hear the pain in his voice.

“...You didn't.”

“I didn't!”

“Yeah, your sister did.” Ace snickers, kicking Cater again.

Pop! goes the first bracket when it comes off. The same sound goes for a piece of Trey's soul.

“Kay-kay, Cay-Cay's done!” Cater’s grin appeared right before his face, holding a stack of clothes under both arms. He was once again herded by his seniors into a changing room and practically shoved into the first stall with more clothes. Clothes that were, thankfully, also set individual outfits.

Albeit they were definitely angled more towards his very limited tastes…

“Cater, why do so many of these have unnecessary holes in them!?”

— — —

“AAAAAGH!”

If you asked Ging the search engine why octopi punched fish (Like Floyd did), it would say:

“Octopuses punch fish when they feel that the effort-to-reward ratio of their partnership isn't satisfactory. It's not entirely clear why they lash out, but scientists say it may be a way of keeping the fish in line.”

If you asked Boogle the search engine for a second opinion (Like Floyd did.) it would say:

“Sometimes it's a partner-control mechanism to drive the fish away from the octopus' next meal. Or it can be to control where the fish is swimming. Or it can be a form of punishment. And sometimes the eight-legged creature just punches the fish — with no discernible incentive.”

Neither explained exactly why Floyd Leech was currently wrestling his own brother and, why he managed to shove him and jump over one of the couches in Azul’s office just in time to avoid said octopus’ fist.

It did crash straight into Jade’s gut though.

“Ungph!”

Sucks to suck.

He knew he shouldn’t have come in when Azul asked, especially after last night. But he was bored, banned from Riddle, Ace was out and Azul had used an extra please in his text messages. What else was he supposed to do?

“Azul, please..” Jade wheezed. “Can’t you tell us what’s wrong?” He wobbled on shaky knees and supported himself on the wall, cornered like a meek minnow instead of the moray he was.

Azul flung his arms out into the air, glasses on the verge of slipping off. “What’s wrong!? Let’s start with the fact that you let me sleep the entire night in your room! What’s wrong with you?”

“A-h, but you appeared to be so distressed and peaceful when you slept. I was the one who had to sleep underwater last night, too.” His mismatched eyes widened comically, shiny. He was playing the pathetic card. Floyd had to keep himself from calling bullsh*t, because he distinctly remembered Jade dragging him with him for “company”

“That can’t be all, 'zul. Do keep beating Jade’s ass though. I’m bored.”

Azul whirled around and gave Floyd’s couch a ferocious kick. “They kicked me out of my spot! I reserved a good, high-quality hotel room a month in advance and this morning they told me someone paid more than me to take my room and demote me! And they won’t give me the money back!!”

“Have you tried–”

“Emailing them? Yes! Three email exchanges and all they could guarantee me is that they won't kick me out of the hotel directly! I could get shoved in a closet by the due date for all I know!”

“Sharing a closet with your boyfriend? That’s exciting; no soundproofing, though.” He couldn't help himself. He clambered over the desk to take a peek at the open laptop.

Azul’s face turned blue as Floyd tapped the keyboard to wake the device up, that was better. Much, much better. Entertaining. “I’m not going to ask you to elaborate.”

“Are you sure? I totally could–” He prepared a crude gesture that he learned recently, courtesy of Ace. Speaking of Ace, he was bored out of his damn mind. Where did he go again? A mall?

The literal growl that bubbled out of his throat was enough of a warning– Jade was too far to be his shield this time, so Floyd kept the next wisecrack to himself.

The emails were full of flowery language that he really couldn't bother to read right now, catching bits and pieces while he scrolled. What did catch his eye was the draft Azul had half prepared early on in his fit of rage.

“ths in an incredibly verbose mannwr of telling someone to shut their fat face the f*ck up you better wstch out and sleep with oen eye open because if i ever catch you out on the streets i can and wwill kill youw wwwwewwwwww.,,.:;;;”

“Nice going, 'zul.” He snickered and saved the draft. The W key was bent. Poor key.

“You could, however, do without the self depreciation.” The other Leech twin hummed, still delicately cradling his midsection with an arm.

“Shut up– and get off my desk!”

“Oh, yeah. I'm not allowed on here, but I bet you'd LOVE to see–”

If you saw Jade Leech with a bloody nose chasing after Floyd Leech with the intent of murder in his eyes and pinched smile, no you didn't.

If you saw Azul Ashengrotto laying in the midst of his ruined personal office, yes, you absolutely did. You should come talk to Floyd about it. (Once he gets down from the tree he's in, anyway.)

At least Lucius is perched only a branch above him. His jokes are quite interesting– and so are his jeers, who he happily translates for the other merman waiting below.

— — —

Azul wasn't even outside of school grounds, and he was already exhausted. He'd spent the entire day unable to focus on class, nervously jittering his leg and clicking his pen and tapping it against his empty notebooks. He could feel the eyes of half of the class on him, burning holes into his back, wondering what could have him acting so uncharacteristically. He sat next to Jamil in animal linguistics, and he looked extremely close to trying to use Snake Whisper on him again, or maybe just killing him and turning him into a dish to get rid of his body.

And he was hungry. He was starving. He hasn’t eaten a thing since last night’s granola bar; a well-deserved treat after fixing the unfortunate mess he made of his office– he was going out to dinner and he didn’t want to mar a drop of his appetite– that didn’t mean he was going to stuff his face, obviously!

Too bad that meant his stomach felt like a hollow, painful cavern and that he was feeling startlingly weak. And his hands were shaking. Pathetic.

He tapped his foot on the ground, on the cusp of full-on pacing. He was dressed incredibly simple; a light turquoise shirt with white buttons, a tiny collar chain, slacks that fanned out at the ends of the same color and a black vest to stand out. He went light on the makeup, limiting himself to eyeliner and shimmer on his eyelids.

Finally, Azul heard the sound of shoes clacking against the stone pathway just a few feet away from him. He turned around with a bright smile on his face and hand on his chest, a greeting slipping past his lips in second nature.

Riddle was dressed in white shirt with a high banded collar, the button missing from the front– it must be on the back. He fiddled with the buttons on his sleeve cuffs as he walked closer, coming out from the shadow of the tree to reveal the bright red belt and the stitching of his shiny, no doubt new, shoes that suited his hair quite finely. The shoes themselves stood out like dark shadows from the rolled-up ends of his blue plants, mysteriously denim-like but definitely not denim.

Without further ado, Azul eagerly pulled out the golden contract he had stored in his pocket, which made Riddle immediately make a face.

“Please don’t look at me like that, I assure you I made this contract very fairly.”

“What even is it?”

“One of my employee’s Unique Magic; it allows fast travel.”

Riddle’s eyes narrowed at the word “employee”.

“Why do you keep looking at me like that? He came to me himself looking for work! Just come closer, I need to hold you for this to work.”

The redhead shuffled closer, and Azul realized that the sleeves were open at the forearms, revealing pale arms that were decorated in miniscule brown spots across them.

And then he moved an arm to wrap around Riddle and also realized there was a sizable diamond shaped hole on the shirt’s upper back, more flecks of brown all over. Bare fingers brushed skin and he yanked the hand away like he’d been burned. His face was warm, warm, hot. Indigo spread from the base of his neck to the entirety of his ears and face.

Riddle flushed a similar dark shade and froze up. Tension rose quickly in the open chilly night air.

Riddle was cringing so hard even the heart in his hair curled up to resemble the rose in Rosehearts than it did the heart. Azul looked away, fingers pushing up glasses. The silence stretched long enough to last years.

Riddle cleared his throat first. “...Why are you blue?”

“What?”

“You– you’re blue.”

“I… yes?”

“Why?”

“Because of the transformation potion.”

“Why?”

Azul was at a loss of words earlier, but now he was really at a loss for words. He felt incredibly stupid. Incredibly, sincerely stupid, floundering around like that one time he got caught in a whirlpool when he was five years old. What was happening?

“Are you looking for an actual explanation?”

“Yes.”

“Erm… in short? The transformation potions have no room for personal customization; I… have blue blood, when most other merfolk have red, so it’s not hidden away like my limbs and other things.”

Riddle’s eyes sparkled in the moonlight– no, they sparkled in a very similar way like they did when he was rattling off whatever he knew when prompted.

Interest. They sparkled with interest. Interest in him.

And so, Azul did what he always did best– talk. Before you ask, yes, he did quite like the sound of his own voice, thank you very much.

“It’s not just limited to my blood, unfortunately. I often get a phantom sensation of my tentacles being around when they are not, similar to what an amputee would feel. And itching– but that happens most often in between my fingers, where I should have webbing. I already have human ears in my other form instead of fins like other merfolk, so all the potion does is make them disturbingly sensitive to the touch. I don’t know why, my arms and upper body don’t do that.”

Riddle’s eyes are wide as he drinks up every word, drifting off to stare at his ears. He isn’t even sure if the rolling in his stomach is from hunger, if the sensation is good or bad. But… he likes– he likes—

“Is that why–”

Für Elise plays from his back pocket, alerting him that it was seven pm.

“sh*t– our reservation!”

“Lang– ah–” The words that come out of Riddle’s mouth as second nature are cut short as Azul suddenly wrapped an arm around him, careful not to touch skin this time yet accidentally pressing the shorter boy’s face right into the spot on his chest where he had applied his cologne. Not that he quite noticed.

The air rippled and a rush filled their ears, like the crashing of a waterfall. Moisture gathered around their feet until there was enough to froth, eating them up and leaving them right in front of the restaurant. Oh, how useful this Unique Magic was, if only he could keep it a little longer.

There was no time to wait for Riddle to collect himself, hand sliding down to hold him by the wrist and rushing in. The head of the server waiting at the front snapped up from their device that they not so subtly held under the desk. They fumbled with the reservations.

“Azul Ashengrotto or–”

“Azul Ashengrotto.”

He only realizes he’s holding Riddle by the wrist when they’re led to their table, to which he lets go and swiftly takes a seat. Out of habit, he tries to swing a leg on top of the other and bangs it straight into the table. Riddle slides into the other seat with contrasting elegance to his blunder.

“You know, I never really gave having a boyfriend a thought.” Riddle murmurs all of a sudden.

“Pardon?”

“I mean I never considered any… preferences. The people I told assumed I was going on a date with a girl.”

“You’re saying you agreed to this without knowing if you were even gay?” Azul blinked.

Color filled his peer’s cheeks as he hunched down in his seat. “I don’t know how to tell.”

Great Seven, was he really going to coach the boy who was supposed to be his boyfriend if he liked the same sex or not?

What a silly question, yes, he was. Who else was going to do it?

“Okay, think of conventionally attractive details a man has.”

“As in?”

“...I don’t know. Vil’s legs, Trey’s oddly muscular arms, Idia’s naturally painted complexion, or–”

“Leona.”

“Leona.”

Azul couldn’t help but snort at that. “Right, just Leona.”

Riddle makes a short pause, mulling it over. For a moment, he swears he looks at him for a fraction of a second, squeaks and drops his head onto the table, sandwiching his head in between his arms. The two strands of hair crinkle like fries.

“Good news, now you know. Don’t think too hard; we’re in public.”

He watches the strands of hair twitch and flex like insect antennae, or maybe an angler’s bulb. It didn’t glow, but it certainly had that allure. He was just about to grab one to satiate his desperate curiosity, but a server walked up to their table to satiate another desperate need he had.

And then he felt an icy chill run down his spine when he looked at the menu. Riddle beat him to the punch.

“Excuse me, why don’t these menus have calorie counts–?”

The server, to their bright-eyed, bushy-tailed credit that reminded him quite a bit of a few first years, chirps obliviously. “We redesigned our menus recently and we voided the idea of calories! You should eat to your heart's content without worry!”

There were many things Azul Ashengrotto thought about that. Namely, wringing out the neck of whoever made that bright idea and whoever approved it. Eating to your heart’s content? He was living proof of the consequences of “eating to your heart’s content”–

“That’s… illegal. You can have both; but you need to have an option for menus with calorie counts.”

Oh. That, too.

“Don’t worry! Our boss says he cleared it up, so we don’t need ‘em!”

Riddle pulls a face and nods stiffly. Azul was sure he was also pulling a face, but was thankful he wasn’t around a mirror. They both ordered with no more complaining.

For a while, they sat in peace and quiet. His eyes wandered back to the hair, to the tiny dots on Riddle’s open arms. The boy was completely out of his element, bathed in the dim lighting reminiscent of Mostro’s. Sevens, he still looks like a portrait.

“I never knew you had speckles.” They’re missing from his face, but the generous smattering of brown is everywhere the eye can see beneath the neck.

Riddle stares at him blankly, then it clicks– merfolk term.

“I’m used to covering my freckles from a young age. It would have been a hassle to cover up the ones on my arms. Or..” He chokes at the end of the sentence and heat rises to Azul’s face again.

“Mhm. That makes sense. The shirt choice is rather bold for what I know of your tastes.”

“...I went to the mall for the first time yesterday. With Cater. He’s responsible for this.”

Azul can’t help but chuckle at the blaming tone.

“Was it really your first time? All the information I’ve been able to gather on your more personal life seems to be heavily biased. ‘Riddle has major mommy issues’ doesn’t tell me much.”

“You say that so casually. It’s my personal life for a reason– and if you ever slip whoever said such a thing–”

“It’ll be off with their head, won’t it? How about you tell me a little about your life from your perspective? Why haven’t you gone to a mall before?”

“I dedicated all my time to studying from the beginning.”

“From the beginning? So dedicated you didn’t go out at all? I thought you were childhood friends with Trey and an RSA student?”

“I– my– my mother– she had to approve of my connections.” He pressed his lips into a thin line, staring at a chip in the table. “I used to sneak out to play with Trey and Che’nya during my independent study hour when I was eight. I didn’t know how to play croquet until they taught me, a common pastime at home, among other things.”

“Aha. How insightful. She’s influenced you quite greatly.”

“She has. She’s quite accomplished in the magical medicine field, and plans to have me follow her footsteps.”

“...”

His voice goes low, quiet, as if he’s saying something wrong, a secret. “Sometimes… I wonder if it wouldn’t have hurt if that independent study hour was just…. independent time. I don’t even know if I want to practice medicine.”

Silence stretched on for another minute. “Then what do you want to practice?”

Riddle jolted and looked at Azul in mute panic, as if he didn’t realize he’d been speaking.

Azul gave him his best reassuring smile. “Today stays between the two of us. Promise.”

His eyes widened and his face flushed red, almost purple under the cool-toned lighting. “...Thank you.”

“So? What do you want to practice?”

Riddle’s eyes narrowed into icy steel slits. He was really getting fed up with receiving that expression of suspicion from him. Well, if he really didn’t want to cough it up, despite how much he really, really wanted to know, he wasn’t going to beg.

“Please?”

Sea King, strike him down with the golden trident right now. Why did he have to sound so petulant?

The boy across from him sighed. “I’ve taken an interest in law.”

“LAW!?” Azul jumped out of his seat, the action dislodging his glasses from his face and sending them clattering on the table. He cursed and wiped them with the microfiber cloth in his pocket as he continued to speak. “There's nothing shameful about wanting to be in law! In fact, I'd fully support you in such an endeavor and I could use a friend whos into law proper~”

Riddle's unimpressed, I knew this would happen, expression told Azul of his likely response. He never got to hear it, because their previous server arrived with their food.

“Who needs proportions this large..” He grumbled while poking the grilled salmon he ordered. There was a fish and a half here, plated on top of a soft bed of crunchy, still-wet lettuce, tomatoes and lemon slices. It was a fine presentation, with broccoli and sauces on the side. By the Sea Witch, he was hungry, but this was literally a day's whole meal of calories!

“Is it not your turn to share?”

He spears a piece of broccoli a little too aggressively and nibbles on it to stall for time. “I suppose it is. Hmm.”

“Well, as you should know, I’m an octopus merman from the cold depths of the Coral Sea. I didn’t do much until I entered middle school, lounging around and doing nothing but eating and storing calories. During middle school, I was finally persuadedinto putting some work in. And because of my ten limbs, I could multitask and do much more than your average merman and manifested my Unique Magic earlier than anyone else.”

“So you’ve been doing that from the beginning.”

Azul can’t help raise an eyebrow, covering his mouth to conceal the way he practically swallows a sizable chunk of salmon. The meat melting on his tongue, the hint of bitterness from the charring on top, oil coating his throat, it's the sweetest poison there is.

“Having your fingers in too many pies. You’re a housewarden, run the only restaurant on campus, you have deals with students, Jade has briefly mentioned you participate in stocks, and you offer to help run every school event we have. I still remember you claimed us to be on equal footing during my birthday.”

“I land consecutively in the top ten! My last scores put me in fourth place this semester.” He shovels more salmon into his mouth behind his hand, a delicious comfort for the harsh reminder of one of Riddle’s more frustrating sides.

He bites into a sirloin tip oh so delicately, as if that very mouth wasn’t spitting haughty words akin to barbed wire. “I will admit, the notes I’ve confiscated from my students are good, and your personal notes no doubt have to be better. But you won’t pose a threat to me until you dedicate as much time as I do.”

“Is that how it is?” Azul doesn’t let the hurt slip into his voice. Because he’s not hurt. His voice is as light and playful as can be because this comment means nothing to him.

“I do commend you for keeping up with all of it, nonetheless. You are impressive in your own right.” Riddle assures, as if he needs assurance.

It does(n’t) feel nice to hear something like that from him. His food is nicer, tangy sauce over smooth veggies mixes with sour lemon juice. The chef has done a great job.

“We’re getting off topic,” He clears his throat. “My mother owns a restaurant, that’s where I’ve gained most of my culinary knowledge from. My stepfather is the one who taught me most of what I know of law– I’m sure you’d love to meet him.”

He makes the disapproving face again, but it looks… wrong.

Oh, that’s why.

Riddle’s smiling. Just ever so slightly.

His heart does something twisted, beating faster and bringing the blush back into his face. He looks back down at his dish. Half of the original salmon is left, same for the salad underneath. The broccoli is gone.

f*ck it, f*ck it, f*ck it, f*ck it! He hasn’t eaten all day, the boy who’s supposed to be his boyfriend is making his emotions go all over the place, and this food just gets more devine every bite. He doesn’t spare another second on finishing the plate, not even bothering to chew the fish or cover his mouth this time.

Riddle finishes his meal quietly as well, and soon enough, at seven forty-seven pm, they’re back outside in the chilly night.

Azul hummed, watching the warm cloud of moisture float into the air like smoke. They were walking on the path to the school from the front gates. He felt oddly light for having eaten the heaviest he’d had in a long while.

They take a detour to the hall of mirrors for Azul to retrieve the tupperware and they head out to a clearing in the woods behind campus. Its dirt is compact and there are indents as if there had been furniture once. It’s the perfect space to practice.

“Right. Something to remember about the Kingdom’s method of dance is that it’s intended to show the craftsmanship and versatility of the dresses. You can have sloppy footwork as long as the dress looks good.” Riddle recites, though an eyelid twitches when he comes to the word ‘sloppy’.

Azul nods. “The movesets fall into two categories, correct? ‘Sway’ and ‘Rush’.”

“Technically. Some consider ‘Finish’ as it’s own category. You know what they all stand for?”

“‘Sway’ is slow, titled for its purpose of using repetitive movements to show off the elegance and flow of dresses. Typically, both parties dance palm-to-palm during sway moves. ‘Rush’ is varying degrees of fast, and involves a lot of spinning, lifting and dipping in turns. It’s designed to show more versatility, durability, and how dresses can compact in close proximity.” The moonlight shines down on him like a spotlight while he talks, something that happens suspiciously often.

“That’s right. Today we’ll practice mostly sway moves, but some basic rush moves as well.”

He pushes his glasses up his face and extends a hand, confidently extending a hand with a smirk. “Then let’s stop wasting time, shall we?”

Riddle returns his confidence with his own smile and takes his hand.

— — —

Azul curses as he stumbles in the middle of their rush move again.

“You’re focusing too much on your feet again.” Riddle says. It’s not intended to be harsh, but it makes his silver-haired partner grumble.

“I’m trying not to twist an ankle.”

“You should trust your ankles more.” He hums. His phone buzzes for the second time.

“There’s ten minutes until Heartslabyul’s curfew, it’s about time I start heading back.”

Azul whines and rights himself to stand straight, smoothing out his clothes. “It’s ten minutes, one more time.”

He doesn’t reply this time and watches Azul push his glasses up with his middle and ring fingers, an idea popping into his head.

“You always put forth such an upstanding effort into everything you do. It’s one of the things I appreciate about you.” He murmurs practically to no one. The boy in front of him still freezes and looks at him with confusion. That’s when he makes his move, grabbing Azul by a wrist, who yelps in surprise, and going through the entire motion– pulling him close, then pushing him outward, carrying the momentum to spin him until they’re close again.

Azul sputters. Riddle can’t help but see the blue that creeps into his cheek, it makes him smile, unable to keep the laughter from creeping into his words. “See? Don’t put so much thought into your feet.”

“Don’t– don’t surprise me like that! No matter how many hearts I have, they won’t be enough if you keep startling me like that.”

He lets go of Azul, the chain connecting his shirt collar clinking together pleasantly as he fixes his glasses yet again. “Hearts?”

“Octopi have three hearts.”

“Octopi..? Do you have–?”

Azul grins. “Do I? I don’t feel like telling.”

“You cannot just say such a thing and leave it unconfirmed!” He pouts, the other boy’s eyes aren’t even looking at him, instead above him, the nerve! And then Azul just throws his head back and laughs, arms crossed across his chest lightly.

“You’ll never find out.”

Riddle would have given him a very opinionated piece of his mind if his phone didn’t buzz again. Five minutes until he had to get to Heartslabyul and make sure everyone was there, too.

“Need a quick way to get back to your dorm?” Azul asks in a tone much like someone in a commercial would use. He grabs his belongings and pulls Riddle in close, the foam takes them away once again. So does the faint scent of spice and vanilla, a great contrast to the person wearing it.

He blinks to see the very entrance to Heartslabyul. Azul peels away from him and tries to hand him the tupperware.

“Wait,” He gently pushes the tupperware away. “You forgot your glove at the unbirthday party. Come, retrieve it.”

He leads Azul into the kitchen to leave the tupperware, and resists taking further detours to check others are in for curfew, even though it’s nine pm by now. But he can’t waste Azul’s time.

When they make it to his room, he can’t find it. He commands the other boy to sit on his bed to wait.

“I swear I left it here, how could it have..?”

Cater. Ace. The others– they were here yesterday, did one of them misplace it? He rummages through drawers, his own clothes– and finds it with the shirt Cater had given him for the mall. But when he turns around to give it to Azul..

He was asleep. Leaned against one of the supports of his bed, peacefully sleeping. He leaves the room quietly, making his rounds.

A group of third years are sleeping at Pomfiore, two second years invited a group of Ignihyde students over, and Ace and Deuce’s roomates are sleeping at the next room over because they brought their own friends over.

He finds the duo sprawled out on the floor with Epel, Jack, Sebek, the Ramshackle prefect, Grim and even Ortho. He’s compacted into a faintly glowing ball in the center, comic books strewn around. Sebek is snoring so loud it’s concerning, but they’re not doing anything against the rules.

He’s fallen so into schedule that he’s surprised to see Azul sleeping in his room. But he goes on with his routine, finally changing out of that shirt and into his nightclothes.

“Azul,” Riddle tries to gently shake him awake, then more vigorously. All he does is murmur sleepily. “Wake up. That can’t be comfortable.”

He can’t leave a person like this– so Riddle does what he thinks of first. Huffing and puffing and pouting, he pulls Azul into a lying position on his bed. Then, he pulls the glasses off his face, careful to keep his fingers away from the lenses. Then the chain and in the midst of making sure his head is on the pillow, he discovers there are silvery bobby pins all over one side of his head and spends another five minutes removing them all. They all go on his nightstand for the time being, with the glove.

Being such a sheltered person, Riddle sees nothing wrong with sharing a bed. His is plenty big for two people, anyway.

He yawns. It’s almost twenty minutes past his own bedtime. Unfortunately, he wasn’t able to get Azul under the sheets.

— — —

Hours later, Riddle wakes up, his blankets feeling heavier and warmer than they ever have. He yawns and tries to curl further into the exquisitely turquoise blanket.

Wait, turquoise… blanket?

He opens his eyes properly to see Azul, who’s somehow turned over and wrapped his arms around him. Trying to squirm out causes Azul to squeeze him, pressing him into his chest.

“Azul.” Riddle whines and pouts. He’s smiling in his sleep. It’s serene; a far cry from his usual personality.

He remembers the octopus’ face when he was assuring him. His soft, genuine voice. His startling excitement when he heard Riddle was interested in law. The oddly bashful look when he ate while holding a hand over his mouth. An arrogant laugh.

He likes it when Azul is genuine.

The corner of his eye catches sight of the beauty mark. He recalls looking at it when trying to think of what he found appealing. Oh yes, Azul is pretty, no doubt about that.

Riddle leans in closer, reveling in the warmth of the other’s body.

Soon, he falls back asleep, oblivious to anything but the little world in his bed.

Chapter 4: Clause 4

Chapter Text

It is very rare for Kalim to wake up before Jamil.

Usually, it means the boy has been kidnapped.

So, when Jamil finds the door to his master’s room ajar, the boy nowhere in sight, he does what a reasonable servant would do: he panics. Internally, of course. Kalim’s headdress and uniform are still where he’d prepared them the night before, the bed is unmade, and he can’t tell if there was a struggle or if that’s just how Kalim is.

“Kalim!” He shouts, he’s run though almost the entire dorm by now, all that was left was the treasury hall. He was stupid to not go here first.

Predictably, the door to the second treasury is wide open. Jamil storms in with his magical pen at the ready. Did they kidnap Kalim to make him identify their most expensive treasures? Or maybe make it look like he had an ‘accident’ amidst the pointy and possibly cursed treasure?

Instead, Kalim is running past the rows of glitters and gold in his pajamas with a great grin plastered on his face and a notepad in his hands. He’s using his magical pen to write in it.

“Kalim! What in the Sorcerer's name are you doing!?”

His master’s head turns with a mildly disturbing pop. “Oh, hey Jamil!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey, Jamil’ me! I thought you got kidnapped!” He growls. He can feel acute pain stabbing at his temples already– it’s too early for this.

“Oh, sorry, haha! I stayed up all night talking to Cater and Lilia on the phone, and around four am I saw–”

“What do you mean you stayed up all night!?”

“This video!” He rattles on like Jamil is nothing but a breeze and pulls out his phone to show him a video. Probably another video of a parrot talking, something stupid and vapid and airheaded like Kalim–

“–One of the things I appreciate about you.”

Was that... Riddle?

Half of the camera was obscured by brush, most definitely taken unawares. He stood a little off-center of the screen in clothing Jamil has personally never seen on him before. Even if his hair is as silver as, well, Silver’s, in the moonlight. The two little strands of hair that form a heart on his head are unmistakable.

Riddle suddenly snaps forward to grab someone who’s half on screen. Unfortunately, he can recognize the owner of the yelp they make, even in his fancy turquoise getup.

It’s Azul, f*cking Azul.

Heartslabyul’s housewarden expertly guides that slimy motherf*cker through an obviously intimate dance move that leaves them close, practically chest-to-chest. Azul is turning blue for some reason, and Riddle’s laughing as he speaks. “See–”

The video ends.

“That’s it!?” Jamil grips Kalim’s hand and the phone to look closer, as if he could will the pixels to show him more. Suddenly, it all clicked, all of it. Riddle getting swiped by Floyd right after basketball practice and rumors that he visited Octavinelle. Azul’s blank stare yesterday, the aggravating tapping of his pen, the near-constant jittering of his leg. He was at the verge of grabbing him by his silver-lavender hair and ripping it all out in animal linguistics– he was going to meet Riddle! To dance with him, of all things!

It wasn’t that Jamil was angry that more people were dancing, dancing is great. Actually… he doesn't know why he's so mad. Why should he care?

Is he upset that something he could relate to with someone on a surface level is shattered? The first time he allowed himself to show off what he really knew, he’d scored right under the redhead in history of magic. Second place!

Riddle hadn’t even bothered to pass a cursory glance at the board, he was just walking by. Kalim celebrated Jamil’s place rather loudly, and clung on to his fellow housewarden, just dying to show him off.

“You did that all by yourself?”

“Of course, you think I cheated?”

“You share a classroom with Azul, do you not?”

“...Don’t remind me. No, I really did it all by myself.”

Riddle smiled, and Jamil smiled back. It was a silent, haha, Azul is such an annoying, obnoxious bastard moment.

And now, he was all finely dressed up, dancing in the moonlight, with said annoying, obnoxious bastard.

“What do you think? They’re dating, right? Cater doesn’t think so, but Lilia–”

“Stop. Just what are you planning?”

“If they’re dating, we should throw a party for them!”

“Kalim, no–”

But it’s too late, and the heir to the Asim fortune is rambling.

“But they’re like, the first official couple of our year, so I want to give them gifts too! But I can’t decide what to give them–”

“Kalim, you don’t know anything about them! You could at least talk to them first!”

He lights up. “Jamil, you’re so smart! I’ll talk to them today– and– and let them pick out something on their own! No! For each other!”

This is his fault. Now he has to do damage control, which means talking to Azul.

Whatever. It’s not like he’s nosy or anything– but getting to the bottom of that video wouldn’t hurt.

— — —

Trey’s usual routine includes waking up before Riddle.

Not long before Riddle, just enough to get ready and make breakfast quickly for his friend, so he can do his duties without waiting long to eat. He used to get antsy in his first year for that reason.

Seven am strikes and the dorm’s little queen hasn’t come down. Worse, people are whispering and talking amongst themselves more than usual. Cater isn’t anywhere in sight. It’s just Trey the senior against the world’s prying eyes.

At seven fifteen, Trey washes the tupperware that mysteriously appeared in the sink last night, gives up and heads straight up the stairs to Riddle’s room. Maybe the date went worse than he thought? Maybe there was alcohol? Riddle wouldn’t consciously drink it while underaged, but he remembers a houseparty his parents once threw and his little sister accidentally ingesting alcohol-soaked fruit. It was a nightmare to deal with; with all the adults tipsy and unable to help him and his brothers convinced that she was going to die.

He takes the stairs two steps at a time.

The door is unlocked. Gently, slowly, he opens the door. It creaks ever so slightly, eliciting an unfamiliar groan from the inside.

The blanket is crumpled on the floor, but Riddle is happily snuggled in bed. He’s curled into a figure in turquoise and black. Worse, he recognizes the person in bed with him.

The boy in bed with him. He watches Azul hug Riddle tighter, and Riddle reciprocates the action with a content sigh.

A hand clasps its calloused fingers over his mouth to pull him away from the doorway. The door shuts and seals all of his dark thoughts away with it, familiar orange pompadour popping into view with a nervous grin. His other hand is patting Trey on the back the same way he used to burp his baby siblings.

“Okay, sooooo, like… don’t scream.”

Trey inhales, then exhales.

“Okay.”

“Yeah? You good?”

He nods his head, and his former roommate leads him down the hall. “Major jumpscare, right? If I knew Riddle’s date was going to be Azul-freaking-Ashengrotto, I would’ve tried a little harder. Esp since they went dancing–”

“Dancing?”

“You haven’t checked Magicam? It’s all over the NRC hashtags, my dude.”

“No?”

Cater winces and pulls out his phone, and the instant he opens the app, there’s at least a dozen copies of the same video.

“This makes… a lot of things make sense now.” He sighs. “Who took a video of them, anyway?”

Cater shrugged and squatted down against the wall, dragging Trey with him whether he liked it or not. “I dunno, but they struck at the right time to boost it to the top, they rlly know their stuff.”

With nothing else to do, he listens to his friend drone on about how the Magicam algorithm works until he exhausts the topic. Then it’s silent, waiting for the door down the hall to open.

“They're not dating.”

“Huh?”

“They can't be, I just don't get that vibe, yk?”

“But…”

“Yeah, yeah, all the evidence– it’s not even that they’re not compatible… I just… yk??”

“...I don’t. But if you say so–”

The door swings open, and a very frazzled Azul in his school uniform speedwalks out. The door is shut behind him with muffled and rushed footsteps; Riddle is finally up.

“Welp. You wanna break the news?”

Trey sighs and gets up to knock on the door. It’s still unlocked.

“Come in.”

Trey clears his throat. He can feel Cater putting pressure in his back with a finger, rushing him. “I– we have some news. But first… how did the date go?” He absolutely knows how the date went.

The underclassman is combing through his hair at a quickened pace. Thin, antenna-like strands at the top spring up and out of the comb, as if alive. “It went well… I think.”

That’s Riddle for ‘I have no idea’.

“Heyyyy! That’s great– we doooo have smth very important to show you though. Like, #ASAP.” Cater’s tone is light and uses his usual lingo despite the urgent matter. It brings a small chuckle to his lips and one of his eyebrows quirk upwards while he shakes his head.

Riddle blinks obliviously with his large doe-like eyes.

“‘Kayyyy~ don’t freak out on me,” Cater continues and pulls out his phone again from thin air. “But there’s a video you really have to see.”

Trey watches in mild discomfort as Riddle’s face turns white as a sheet and then as red as a strawberry. He’s so angry he’s speechless. No demands, no shouting, no off-putting, guttural growls coming from the depths of his throat.

“We have no idea who took and shared the video, btw. But everyone knows about it.”

“Cater…”

“I wish you could’ve been a little more open that you were going to meet Azul, tho. I def would’ve tried harder to get you to switch up your makeup. #Bummer.”

“Cater..!”

Trey reaches and gently places a hand on the smaller boy’s shoulder, reminding him to take deep breaths. He watches him deflate. Something heavy rolls around in his stomach when he sees that.

“So, you're not… ah..”

Cater leans in and pats Riddle's other shoulder, holding his usual light smile. “If anyone gives you sh*t about anything you like, be it the amount of cream filling in your tarts or your questionable taste in boys– whether you like boys included– you give them the same treatment you give rulebreakers. You hear me?”

“We are still your upperclassmen,” Trey added. “If you think you can’t handle it, you can come to us, or a teacher.”

Riddle scoffs, returning to his usual confidence. The feeling doesn’t go away from Trey though. “I can handle anything thrown at me.”

“Atta boy! We’ll get out of your hair now!” Cater was back to manhandling people again– grabbing Trey by hooking his arm with his own and dragging him out. “Bye-bye~!”

The door shut before Trey could hear his reply.

— — —

Azul was actually very good at executing the ‘please don’t look at me’ posture. Head lowered, eyes to the ground, shoulders hunched, fast pace– it was considered the Idia posture at NRC. Azul used to do it often when he was in middle school.

Back in middle school, he exuded a strong vibe of meekness and fear, also much like Idia! Now, his vibes were more ‘I will kill you if you look at me’ as he sped on the path of Octavinelle’s dormitory hall.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep in Riddle’s room, he really hadn’t! But he distinctly remembered he dozed off while sitting, not cozily cuddled up in bed with him. He remembered dreaming that he’d somehow been baked into a sweet coffee cake garnished with florals, struggling to get a grip on the crumbly insides with his tentacles without eating his way out. Waking up was a whiplash he’d rather not repeat ever again.

Azul’s heart skipped a beat as he remembered Riddle’s sleepy face for over the tenth time. Half of his face, anyway. It was squished comfortably into his chest– that’s right, his chest– and his one visible, half lidded, eye lazily moving to look up at him. As consciousness filtered its way through his body, he could feel the arm wrapped around his waist. Their legs were so tangled together that he couldn’t actually tell which were his own.

He still couldn’t quite remove the image from his head the entire time he put away last night’s clothes, his glove and properly brushed out his hair, putting new bobby pins in place– Riddle had taken those out as well, how methodical of him.

The lounge was empty, save for Jade, waiting on his own at the bar.

“Slept over at Hearslabyul, did you? I hope it was to your standards.”

Azul slid into a seat next to him. “Please don’t.”

“It was merely a comment made in jest. Have you checked your phone?”

Azul’s hand brushed the pocket his phone was usually in, only to find the fabric flat. “Must’ve left it to charge…”

“There’s a rather urgent matter you need to know about.”

He studied Jade’s face– it wore a soft, mildly apologetic smile– and he feared something happened to the lounge or maybe his stocks took a dive while away.

“There is a video circulating on Magicam of you. You and Riddle, to be precise.”

The floor dropped from under Azul’s feet.

He stared into nothing– he’d never been fond of photos or videos, due to the time some kids had somehow procured a water-proof technomatic camera and chased him around with it. The next day, pictures were passed around school like collectibles.

“He doesn’t even fit in the frame!”

“Gross. Did he get ink on the camera?”

“My mom says cameras are meant for taking pictures of pretty things.”

“Ugh, I'm gonna barf. No one should get that close to Azul!”

“He's right behind us!”

“Hey, are you crying already?”

“Quick, He's gonna blow! Get outta here!”

Plunk!

He barely twitches as Floyd materializes behind him to drop a plate of what could only be called a monstrosity– three fluffy pancakes sandwiched between thick waffles topped with fruits, syrup and a deadly amount of butter. Normally, he would’ve had some choice words for even thinking about offering him such a thing.

Unfortunately, no words are exchanged while he tears apart food like an uncivilized animal. The comfort of filling his stomach with something so warm and sweet was unrivaled to anything else in the world.

As soon as he cleaned his plate (Including wiping the excess syrup and licking it off his fingers) Floyd drops another one right in front of him.

Plunk!

And another.

Plunk!

And yet another.

Plunk! Plunk!

He stopped midway through his fifth plate, the sweetness turning into overpowering, nausea-inducing bile. What was he doing? Gorging, stuffing himself, only weeks before a ball?

“Ya done already? I made eleven of these.” Floyd whines.

“I don’t need–”

Floyd stabs fruit with his discarded fork and shoves it into Azul's mouth as he speaks. He chokes and fights the urge to gag, doing the opposite. He grabs Floyd’s wrist in a crushing grip to prevent him from trying to shove any more food in his mouth.

“What– what are you doing? Quit sabotaging me!”

“‘M not sabotaging nothin’.”

Jade interrupts with a soft disapproving click of his tongue, yet the very edges of his lips are curling upwards, and the tips of his sharp teeth flash.

It’s not that bad, he finds out. The comments are… as predicted. His reputation still isn’t the best and neither is Riddle’s– there’s a lot of confusion, a lot of people looking for more information and a lot of insults for them individually.

“What in the Great Seven does ‘who do you think tops’ mean!?”

Both eels shrug their shoulders.

Jade continues reading the comments.

“They’re both terrible people who want to be in control loll. They're made for each other.”

“Match made in HELL LMFAO!!!!!! Their dorms are going to SUFFER wit them together”

He’s not sure why they make his heart pinch. He groans, his stomach deciding it’s done being compatible with his heart.

For a moment, he considers skipping classes. He’s already overwhelmed, and it feels far too easy to slip into bed when he goes to retrieve his phone and not get up. He’s so, so, tempted.

So instead, Azul thinks about the plan; they weren’t supposed to be out this early. They’re just not ready to proceed with outwardly admitting to a relationship that wasn’t real.

He’s not worried about how Riddle will take the video.

He’s not. He’s worried about the plan.

Still, his fingers dance across the screen of his phone, sending a message that doesn’t at all sound like he’s worried about the plan.

— — —

Azul Ashengrotto: Assuming you have heard the news, are you alright?

Just as Riddle had put on his shoes and was double-checking his bag almost as usual (he was almost two hours off from usual) he received that text.

Riddle Rosehearts: Truthfully, I’m not quite sure how to proceed. I work best with strict guidelines.

His heels click audibly against the stairs and echo across the walls, whispers fall silent downstairs.

Azul Ashengrotto: Be as vague or upfront as you like, no one will question you if you’re shy.
Azul Ashengrotto: You neglected to answer my question.

Riddle Rosehearts: I have a lot to say.

His phone buzzes once. Twice. Azul's messages into trying to get more out of him go unread as Riddle makes it to Heartslabyul’s lounge. It’s fewer people than he’d thought, because it’s so close to class time, and he’d never permit one of his students to do that. The usual group is still waiting for him, though. The air smells quite pleasantly like tea.

“I didn’t know you could oversleep!” Ace gets up from his chair first. It settles some of his nerves– seems like Azul did, in fact, use one of the windows intended for the days they were not allowed to use the doors, and slipped out without notice.

Cater’s smile is a little too wide, flashing his snaggletooth and crinkling his eyes a little too much– or is that what he usually looks like? He’s nursing a lemonade this early in the morning, honeyless with an egregious amount of lemon slices. He can’t properly deduce what Trey is feeling as the older boy serves him a cup of tea. Neither used to do this‐ participate in the dorm's morning routine of relaxing with a drink in the lounge, too busy to even stop by with a hello. After his overblot, he's found himself flitting by on the occasion, with Trey becoming a regular, talking about anything and nothing at all. The air doesn't shift a bit when he tentatively takes a seat beside Trey. It's… reassuring.

Riddle sighs.

“I did not, either.”

“It happens sometimes, Housewarden! You were out pretty late last night!” Deuce says, ever so supporting.

The silence is loud. Deafening. Once again, Riddle is reminded just how out of his depth he is. He takes a sip of his tea and idly wonders if it's caffeinated. Trey would know not to serve him caffeine, right? He's already messed up his sleep schedule by sleeping in for an hour longer than he should, and caffeine is dangerous. Almost as much as sugar‐ which, in hindsight, wasn't as bad as he was warned, but Riddle would rather avoid its effects completely.

…He's never had caffeine before. This has an extremely high chance of negatively affecting him.

If the tea is in fact caffeinated. He can't just accuse Trey of poisoning him.

“Sooooooo~,” Ace starts before he can properly ask the senior. “Honestly? I thought you were hom*ophobic.”

Half of the remaining students do a spit-take, the other half jumping to Riddle’s defense. Half of those defenses seem to include Cater as a point, which succeeds in confusing him further.

“I dunno!” The card soldier throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “Maybe that’s why Cater isn’t vice. Because he’s gay and Riddle is hom*ophobic.”

“WHOA? Whoa, whoa– pauseeee– Ace, I’m not even gay!”

That makes the door take yet another spit-take. For some reason, they appear to be more offended than before.

“Senior, have you ever looked at yourself in a mirror before??” One boy cries. “Uhm, I thought you and Trey were..?” Another one says.

The third year bends over in deep, deep anguish, head in his hands. “Urrrrgh, you’re telling me my vibes were off the entire time!?”

“Ace,” Riddle finally interjects delicately– he’s not going to address the sudden controversy with his second second-in-command. “Are you not a Queendom native? This should have been covered in your elementary and middle school classes. When queer stopped being used as a descriptor for the odd, strange, and unusual, the Queendom was the first to establish hom*ophobia was not something that would be tolerated. Why would it ever occur to you..?”

“The old Shaftlands language literally calls the land the Queendom is based in The Queerlands.” Cater supplies helpfully. “And it’s not the most creative of languages, my guy. The entire sea is called Submergedlands.”

Ace’s face scrunched up and he kicked his feet back, onto the coffee table. The people around him whine that he’s going to spill their drinks. “Why do you even know Old Shaftand??”

“I picked it as my language class second year because it was easy! Unnntil I had to write entire essays and stories back-to-back for my last two months. Woof. That was a nightmare. You’re gonna be begging me for my notes next year, just you watch. Everyone wants to take ye Olde Shaftland their second year.”

“Wait, you have to take an old languages class in the second year? I thought Riddle and Trey were just nerds for speaking Old Wunder sometimes.”

Riddle huffed. “I learned to speak Old Wunder and New Wunder fluently at age ten.”

“‘Course you did.” he grumbles. “New Wunder is stupid hard. And the reason it exists is also stupid.”

“New Wunder isn’t that hard. I used to speak New Wunder at my grandma’s house.” Deuce jumps in defensively.

“Juice. Tell me how many syllables ‘Good Morning’ has in New Wunder.”

Deuce gently places his cup of tea in between his thighs and starts utilizing his fingers to count while sounding it out the simple phrase.

“...Eleven.”

“Yeah? And what about how they turned ‘lalalala’ into an actual word? It’s literally crazy talk.”

“La-le-la-ah-la,” Deuce sounds it out for emphasis. “It’s just a saying! It’s– it’s multipurpose!!” His accent, very different from the one he uses when he gets riled up, makes the entire sentence rough to make out.

“It literally just sounds like ‘lalalalala’ to me.”

Riddle sips his tea. The entire history of the language is on the tip of his tongue, but Heartslabyul isn’t very appreciative of impromptu history lessons. They always seem to think he’s lecturing them, which he does do a lot of...

Perhaps Azul would like to listen. It does relate to the Kingdom of Ashes, in a way–

Riddle stops mid sip and narrows his eyes. He was getting too comfortable regarding Azul. Which was part of the deal, to feign closeness– but not to actually become close. Azul was still Azul, and that meant it was dangerous to get too close.

“Housewarden?”

It's like very ditzy sharks to blood. Suddenly, everyone remembers the fact that their housewarden was very late to join them.

Someone clears their throat.

“Ah… my friend says he saw Mr.Ashengrotto in the hall an hour ago. What was that about?”

“Ah.”

“So... the housewarden of Octavinelle. Are you two, uh, like… actually..?”

Riddle can feel his ears grow hot, spreading to the very edges of his cheeks. Azul had said ‘be as vague or upfront as you like’ but what was he actually supposed to say? He rushes another sip of his tea. It’s become lukewarm.

The group takes his indecisiveness as shyness, and as a confirmation.

“Uhm..” A diamond card soldier speaks up. “We know you just wanted to impress your boyfriend, but it was really scary the way you handled the preparations for that Unbirthday party.”

“Right. I’m sorry.”

The eyes around him bulge and jaws drop in shock at how easy that comes out. A dark and anxious air emanates from the seat beside him. He glances at Trey quizzically, but before either of them can speak, multiple clocks in the lounge begin to chime– it’s eight am, thirty minutes before class begins.

Riddle is the first to get up.

— — —

There was definitely caffeine in that tea.

He feels the buzz midway through his second period, thankfully, his physical education period. And then it leaves him shortly after lunch, taking the rest of his energy with it– he was staying up the rest of the day through sheer will alone. His patience is under threat of being worn out next, pecked at by curious classmates and underclassmen. Thankfully, the seniors had a little more tact.

The exhaustion is what causes him to collide with Azul at the end of his last class. Surprisingly steady hands hold his arms steady as he blinks in surprise.

“Azul?”

“Riddle.” He greets. Eyes flicker towards the pair, curse NRC for being a school so gossip hungry.

Azul gently pulls him through the halls by a hand while he yawns so wide his jaw clicks. He rubs the back of his first in an eye socket, smearing a tear across his face. The octopus had led them to an empty hall near the courtyard. His influence, no doubt– but Riddle can’t complain as he takes a seat on a bench.

“You slept an hour longer than usual, yet you seem so tired.” Azul hummed out the observation. “You haven’t answered a single one of your texts, and you left lunch early.”

Riddle replies bitterly. “Trey has poisoned me with caffeine.”

“Does caffeine give you severe energy crashes?”

“I’ve never had caffeine until now.”

Azul hums thoughtfully again, but before he can offer any advice, a very distinct voice rings out from a nearby path, and a blonde figure with a large, feathered hat leans on the courtyard railings.

“There you are, Rois! Quite clever, placing votre entourage at the entrances to keep people out– Oh la la! Roi des Roses, are you quite alright?”

“Rook!?”

“Rook!”

Yet another figure comes up to them, blonde with purple ends, his movements both languid and tight as he follows the same path his vice took.

“Rook, I told you to wait.”

“Ah,” Rook’s tone is mournful. “My apologies, mon beau roi, I simply became excited when I noticed their scents intertwined and led down these halls.”

“You are not a dog.” Vil chides. Rook shakes his head, hair swishing in a smooth, mesmerizing manner.

“You… sniffed us out?”

“Roi des Roses carries the scent of fragrant teas and roses– oh! And the most delectable treats, similar to Chevalier de Roses, while Roi d’Effort smells like… hmm…” Rook tilts his head thoughtfully. “Sea salt, leather and suede, and rather expensive parfum.”

Azul shudders beside him, it appears he is as fond of Rook as most beastmen are.

Rook continues without missing a beat. “There is seldom a beauty comparable to that of young love! I expressed my desire to perform a serenade for your relationship to prosper, but mon roi claims it is not necessary.”

“Right. While it is unfortunate how your relationship was revealed, we really do hope for the best with you two. This school can be… quite nosy and dramatic for things like this.” Vil brings a finger up to his lips, most definitely alluding to his own not-so-secret relationship with the man beside him. “And I trust your personal interests will not interfere with your usual duties.”

“Of course it won’t, senior.” Azul is quick to respond, and so is Riddle. Something about being in Vil’s presence simply elevates the mood and gives him energy.

The older pair excuse themselves and the younger sigh once they’re out of earshot. Riddle feels the exhaustion pull down at him again.

“Well, that was lovely.” Azul’s tone is sarcastic as he takes a seat beside Riddle. He can’t help but remember how warm the other boy is and lean in. Rook is right– if he focuses on the scent coming from his shirt, it smells like perfume, different from last night’s cologne. He can’t exactly figure out where the leather and suede come from, but closer to his skin, he thinks he can smell the sea salt…

Azul makes a strangled choking sound as Riddle pushes his face further into the crook of his neck. Gently, he tries to push him away, but Riddle whines and leans in closer, mumbling something in annoyance.

“Riddle, I know you’re tired…” He squirms and tries again. “But can we not make this a habit?”

Riddle huffs, stirring stray silver hairs. If he places a hand over his chest, can he feel multiple hearts beating at a fast pace? Before he can make contact, a hand intertwines with his own, gently squeezing it.

For a moment, they stay still, and he finds himself under the threat of actually falling asleep. He's too tired to sense the buzz of panic coming from his makeshift pillow.

Then Azul clears his throat.

“So. This morning. You said you had a lot to say?”

The redhead’s eyes snap open, energy gained anew. He pulls away with a growl in his throat.

“Oh, yes. I do! How could someone possibly lack so much integrity and moral decorum to record two people in their private matters!? How did they even find us? We were at the edge of the forest behind campus!”

“Haven’t you ever been curious before? This is just how gossip works.” Azul chuckles and crosses his legs; he misses the relief in his voice in his fit.

“Have I ever been curious? Yes, of course! But I know to mind my business!” He pouts and stomps his feet. Azul isn’t even looking at him again, sparkling eyes focused on something an inch or two above him.

He doesn’t get to reply once again when they’re interrupted by a familiar voice.

“RIIIIDLEEEEE, AAAAAAZUUUUUUUUL~!”

“Guuuysss! Hi!” Their fellow housewarden chirps. And then sings the whole chorus. “I had no idea you guys even liked each other! Which is so weird, because you, like, tutor me! All the time! Congrats!!”

He’s a beam of sunshine.

“Oh, thank you.”

“It’s… a very recent development.”

Kalim tilts his head and grins, filling the air with the jingling of his jewelry. “I really wanted to give you something, but I couldn't figure out what to give you. So, I thought you could pick something out for each other from Scarabia's treasury!”

Oh, he can see the thaumark signs in Azul's eyes.

“My, that's very generous of you, Kalim!”

“Azul…” The name trails off with a yawn, and he hears his jaw click. Quickly, he covers his mouth and clears his throat. “Sorry.”

“Oh, wow, you sure look tired!” Kalim laughs. “But why are you apologizing?”

“It's impolite.”

“Oh… if you’re really that tired, we can postpone the gifts!”

Azul physically deflates. “Aha, I suppose it is better that way.”

“Yay! Then can you do it before the banquet.”

Riddle coughs. “Wait, banquet?”

“Oh!! Did I forget to ask you?” Kalim grabs one of their hands in each hand, bouncing on the tips of his toes and widening his bright red eyes. “Please, please, please, please let me host a banquet for you two! Pleeease, it would be so fun, I promise! You've never attended one yet, and I want to celebrate!”

“Kalim. Were you going to host a banquet for us… without telling us?”

“Noooo!! I was gonna ask you, I swear! But will you?”

“Kalim, I don’t know…”

A figure steps out from the shade of the trees, hair half done and still wet, a gym bag under his arm. His words drag with an annoyance that usually isn’t there.

“Kalim, of all times for you to sneak out, you couldn’t even wait for me to finish with my club?”

The bright-eyed boy dims, tilting his head to the other side. “But you were taking so long, Jamil.”

“Jamil! It’s a pleasure to see you!”

Jamil simply sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. His hoodie is growing dark from his hair. Equally dark, charcoal-like eyes close in on the taller of the pair, eliciting yet another sigh.

Riddle is missing quite a bit of context, isn’t he?

“Please tell me you said no.”

“We were just discussing that! Honestly, I think the banquet’s a good idea!”

“Azul!?”

“Really!?”

“Oh, do you now? And whose shoulder are the preparations going to fall on? Actually, I’m quite curious, how did you two even get together? I didn’t think Riddle would be the type to give you the time of day for this nonsense.”

“What are you trying to say about me?” Azul stands up, hand on his chest. Jamil snorts. “Is it really that hard to believe that I poured my heart out one day and Riddle accepted it?”

“Absolutely. You’re not even letting Riddle speak for himseeeeeelffffuh– great seven, did you sleep at last all last night!?”

Riddle grumbles, pushes himself up and stomps a foot. “This is getting ridiculous. Do I really look that bad?”

“You’re giving Silver a run for his money!” Kalim laughs.

And then Riddle loses all sense of energy once again, like some sort of punchline, slumping into the closest boy’s chest and arms. Azul’s, to be precise.

“Goodness gracious. We need to get you to bed, immediately.”

“My sleep schedule–”

“Oh! You should sleep at Scarabia, I can tell you my plans for the banquet when you wake up!”

“IS IT ON??”

“It is!”

“Auuuuuuuuuuuuuuughhh…”

Riddle yawns and watches Jamil take Kalim’s hand, pivoting to take them away.

“Ah… but before you go, Jamil…”

— — —

“Believe it or not, I… haven't regretted this as much as I thought I would.”

What a delightfully simple phrase to twist Azul’s heart(s?).

He was back on the path to Mostro Lounge after watching Riddle go through the Heartslabyul mirror, just to make sure that if he happened to collapse, it was in a place where his card soldiers could find him. And for the image, of course. What was better than Azul tenderly leading his sleepy boyfriend through the mirror hall?

Mostro’s kitchen was full of temptations. They were expecting a restock of vegetables tomorrow, courtesy of Sam's connections. They still had a few greens and half a carton of berries from last restock sitting out in a box as a reminder to be thrown out–

“It's just a buncha sad little carrots and spinach. Eat them if ya want.”

“Floyd.”

“Yo.” The eel replies, bending over the box and shaking free a few greens from their slimy, dark brothers. “Heard you got Sea Otter to make a party for you and Clownfish. Nice.”

“...Clownfish?”

“Mhm. Clownfish. Red, tiny, unsatisfying to eat. Love sea anemone.” He hums while pulling out a blender from the bottom cupboards. He dumps what he's scavenged into the container.

Azul's eyebrows knit together. “Please don't tell me you're calling me a sea anemone.”

“You're right. Sea anemones have too many limbs to look like you, eh~?”

They fail to exchange any words as the blender roars to life. In the meantime, he pulls out a large glass cup from the cupboards above.

“Doesn't hurt to do what you actually want sometimes, ya'know?”

“What I want is the money. I'm doing that quite well, no?”

“Hmph. It gets sad watching you tie yourself into knots over silly things. Gonna dump you in a river and force you to play with toys like landfolk do, one of these days.” Blended greens and berries are poured into the cup. He drags a finger across the insides of the blender and licks it.

“I don't know what you mean.”

Floyd sets the large cup on the counter beside Azul with a thud, then opens one of the freezers and pulls out a case of shrimp. “Just saying you shouldn't make your time with Clownfish sad and mature and boring. If you let me near him, I'd show ya how to properly play with him. Later~”

Azul is alone in the kitchen once again. He takes a closer look at the cup.

Spinach, carrots and chard, maybe some kale, garnished with very ripe blueberries that don't sink due to how thick the smoothie is– and extreme undertones of sweet banana and strawberry, he learns, when he takes a tentative sip.

Mostro's kitchen is dark and cold. For someone like him, it's comfortable.

Floyd’s words… perhaps….

“Wait… FLOYD, ARE YOU THE ONE WHO'S BEEN STEALING THE SHRIMP!?”

Chapter 5: Clause 5

Chapter Text

Azul was eating more– not by much, mind you– but an extra boiled egg for breakfast here, a snack-sized treat to compliment lunch there– he was even more willing to try out more of Jade’s mushrooms. He claimed being around Riddle stressed him out. Any regular student would sympathize and agree, but a certain pair knew exactly what it was, sharing grins while their friend hesitantly dined on Puffball mushrooms and Chicken of the Woods.

In fact, perhaps he was feeling a little more generous, a little more benevolent, for a certain second year received a little bonus in his check.

If you asked Heartslabyul what was new around the dorm, they (and most importantly, a specific diamond card soldier) would tell you a certain queen of hearts had made a new habit of barely arriving before curfew, carrying a satisfied air about him while humming a foreign, yet familiar tune. That he seemed just a little more cheerful in the mornings but refused to ‘share with the class’ what exactly was that lifted his mood so.

— Chat —

The very next day, Trey found him at the library. Azul is hyper aware of the unsure glances the older student keeps giving him until he finally strides over, cookbook in hand. He sets down the novel he was reading (Required for his book report, this novel is rather bad. He welcomed any distraction.)

“Do you need something, upperclassmen?” He greets. Trey, in return, sighs and adjusts his glasses.

“I wanted to talk to you about Riddle.”

“Of course, I’m always up to talk about Riddle. Although– I happened to hear you were the victim of his Unique Magic, recently.”

Trey stays silent for at least two minutes, fiddling with his glasses and rubbing the worn edge of the borrowed cookbook. “Riddle– he– just be careful with him, alright? He’s sensitive and doesn’t know a lot of things–”

“Are you just telling me to be nice to him?”

“Basically? Yes. Don’t rush him into anything.”

Azul puts a hand over his chest, offended. “But I haven’t. Trust me, all of the activities we’ve done are mutually agreed on.”

“And the banquet?”

“He was present when it was agreed on. He spoke to Jamil and Kalim!”

“He was barely lucid when he came through the mirror! He doesn’t remember anything besides– I’m not going to get into what he said. Just think about what I said.” With that, Trey hoists his cookbook under his arm and makes his way through the shelves.

— — —

The same day Trey approached him, Azul is invited to observe the Equestrian Club. He finds out that horses are much, much bigger than he expected, yet, just like the throne, Riddle has a way to make his small stature look regal beside the giant, muscled creature.

“Are you sure you don't want to get closer?” Riddle asks as he secures the halter on Vorpal.

“I’m very sure, my land camp was very clear on avoiding situations where we could get in contact with animals that can kick our skulls apart, thank you.”

Riddle snorts inelegantly, eyes twinkling. “You’re with me, and Vorpal is very calm.”

“I’d rather not learn a new lesson on gravity.”

Vorpal then huffs. To Riddle, it’s clear that he’s getting impatient and raring to go, to Azul, it’s a threat. He shudders and scoots away. The redhead gently runs a hand through its very short fur(? Or is it hair?) and he watches its thick skin twitch like it has a mind of its own. (Very uncomfortably reminding him of certain appendages he has)

“RIDDLE! Good daAAAAYUHH–! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE!?” Sebek’s unreasonably loud voice shatters the peace, yet none of the horses in the stables make a ruckus, too used to their overly vocal rider at this point to feel fear. One of them even sticks its head out further and snorts eagerly.

“I invited Azul. Don’t mind him, if you will.”

“I think I do mind! I have heard PLENTY of your previous exploits from my f– MY PEERS. And I do NOT trust your intentions with Riddle! He is a decent human and I do not approve of you, merman!”

“Greetings, Azul, Riddle. Please forgive Sebek and let him warm up to you.”

Sebek whips his head towards Silver and bares his teeth. “I AM NOT A DOG, SILVER!”

“Sebek, please show more respect; Azul is still your upperclassman.”

Sebek huffs and puffs, but heads towards the horse that was extending his head out with an equally, if not louder, greeting. It whinnies back, trying to forcefully exit its pen.

“I hope our practice entertains you.” Silver says, a night and day contrast to his fellow retainer. All of the horses, including Vorpal and Sebek’s horse, seem to angle towards him.

Azul’s jaw drops when he watches Riddle fearlessly mount his beast without a problem and command it using the two flimsy leather ropes. It trots forward, then slowly to the left, circling… circling him. Circling Azul.

“Riddle,” Azul calls out his peer’s name, hating the higher pitch of his voice that gives away his panic. He hates that he has to look up at him, in fact. “Riddle.” The boy in question snickers and doesn’t stop.

“Is this your first time seeing a horse?”

“Quite. They showed us pictures. I remember having trouble trying to discern what they were at first.”

Riddle, thankfully, has had his fill of fun and makes Vorpal stop. “Horses have quite unique silhouettes. Especially with your determination for being the most knowledgeable.”

“I’m from the sea, I thought everything was a dog for my first month.”

“A dog!? You thought horses were–”

“I’m from the sea.”

“My apologies, I suppose I would be just as clueless when it comes to fish.”

Azul presses his lips into a thin line and scrunches his eyebrows together. “I’m going to ask you to retract that statement. There are plenty of differences between fish– rgh!” He finds himself interrupted by a sharp sound from Vorpal. He can’t get his eyes off the monstrous thing’s legs. They could break his, no problem. And then he wouldn’t be able to dance and get money from Monique.

“I guess I shouldn’t keep you waiting.” Riddle regards, a very warm note in his voice. He’s obviously very fond of this horse. He glances back at Azul and winks, kicking up dust as he races off to a proper trail. His jaw drops again.

Who taught him that??

— — —

The day after that, is yet another day of torture imposed by the redhead.

Azul’s legs are clamped for dear life on the stiff wood of his broom, grip strength threatening to splinter and snap it. Why is it so unstable? Why should he be forced to balance on this cursed object?

A watch high above him releases its call of his salvation. He risks a look up to see Riddle hanging upside down effortlessly, holding on to his own broom with his legs and a hand while he shuts off his pocket watch. At that sign, Azul lets himself drift down and drop. Spitefully, he throws the broom as far as he can, letting it fly like it should; without him.

“You better pick that up.” Riddle reprimands him as he drifts to float beside him. He sighs, thankful for the ground and not up for arguing after such harrowing 45 minutes.

“I’m serious Azul.”

“Or what?”

Riddle huffs, puffing up his cheeks. He can see the words on his very tongue. In these split seconds, he remembers something Idia once said in Board Game club.

“Whee-hee-hee. Games haaaate getting into the nitty-gritty logic, because then if you, like, had to stop a spellcaster at close proximity, you could just give ‘em a good right hook or put your fingers in their mouth. Which is why [this game] is so–”

And so, Azul shoots up to his feet and pulls Riddle as low as he possibly can against the magical broom and clamps his hand over his mouth. It throws the shorter boy off balance and the broom clatters to the ground, putting all the weight on Azul and forcing him to support him with the other arm.

“I think there should be a rule about using Unique Magic on your boyfriend.” He hums.

Riddle turns red in almost an instant, frightening noises coming from his throat as he struggles against Azul’s sturdy arms. He tilts his head, feeling oddly calm despite the fists beating against his chest.

“Huh. You’re lighter than a couple of grapes.”

Veins pop out of Riddle’s forehead this time. He screeches and tries to remove Azul’s hand, gray eyes smoldering not like steel, but the smoke of a wildfire. He lets the other scream a while longer, pondering just how abundant his lung capacity could be.

Then he lets go. Riddle falls with a thud and a grunt.

Azul settles down to sit beside him, lifting a finger when it seems that Riddle is still considering using Off With Your Head.

“Ah, ah, ah.”

The redhead grits his teeth, then reorients himself so his back is to Azul. “I prefer not being manhandled, thank you! All of you Octavinelle residents have no decorum!”

“Oh, my~ what an assumption! You’re lucky I don’t have a penchant for squeezing like Floyd does. My arms are much stronger.”

Admittedly, Riddle’s ire was an endearing feature of his– when it was sparked by the most obtuse or mundane reasons. Though, unless you were immune the way Floyd was, it was better to take it in small doses.

The breeze is pleasant on his sweat-slicked skin. He pushes his glasses up his nose and shuts his eyes. Normally he doesn’t like open fields like this.

Fingers brush against the back of Azul’s head, and he feels the painfully familiar sensation of fingers curling into his hair and pulling. He cries out as his head is pulled down with force, low, low until it hits the ground–

The oddly cushiony ground. Delicate hands remove the glasses from his face.

“I couldn’t help but notice your hair is a rather fine texture. Is this natural?”

He pries one eye open, feeling fingers tracing his hairline. “A– ah? Yes? If you're asking if I use any specific hair care products, I do not. Simply some natural shampoos with additives that come from the sea.”

“I’ve been trying to find more sources on merfolk, but the library is lacking. I especially couldn't find anything on octopus merfolk.”

Azul swallows. Both eyes flutter open, feeling his Adam's apple bob when he tries to swallow again with an oddly dry mouth. “We like to keep our secrets. Even those who have moved to the surface, from the Little Mermaid to modern times.”

Riddle hums in acknowledgement, now tracing the edge of his undercut. “Depending on the type and species, we tend to have a lot of different features– a lot of merfolk who live closer to the surface have silky, shimmery hair. But those like Jade and Floyd, for example, have much coarser, thicker locks of hair.”

“I see. What about your eyes?”

“Ah, well…” Azul spares a glance upwards, meeting Riddle’s. They shine with interest again, just like the night of their date. “Well… they’re on par with human eyes, instead of our regular counterparts. Colors appear a little different, I suppose…”

“Is it appropriate to ask what your original form looks like?”

He cringes. It would not hurt to lie and say it was, would it? But if Jade or Floyd happened to catch wind of it they would absolutely do what they believed what would grind his gears the most. (Even if Floyd couldn’t get near Riddle.)

Azul shuts his eyes again and tries to sink into what his head is resting in, before remembering that what that exactly was… was Riddle’s lap.

Thinking of two facts that he desperately wishes to avoid causes something in his mind to short circuit. The boy above him waits expectantly as he finds his words again.

“My eyes are a lot bluer; think a few shades lighter than cyan. And I’m bioluminescent.”

Riddle’s shadow bobs as he nods, probably taking note of his avoidance of directly addressing the question.

He shifts so that he’s in a better, more comfortable lying position and facing upwards instead of sideways on Riddle's lap. He grabs his hand and gently places it to caress his cheek, flashing his best smile. “Since I've bestowed so much information on you, I think I should get repayment. Tell me about yourself now.”

Slate eyes widen in surprise, very clearly displaying a mind gone blank.

“...This seems to be highlighting a weak point of mine.”

His pout is adorable. It's an undeniable fact.

“I don't like particularly opinionated or biased pieces. I find it troublesome and distracting to decipher the facts from them.” He says hesitantly. “Most people seem to be surprised when they learn studying and ‘chores’ like tending to animals are hobbies of mine. I like the satisfaction of getting tasks done or finishing big projects.”

Riddle’s hand moves back to running his fingers through Azul’s silver-lavender hair, still pouting in thought.

“Have I told you I like crossword puzzles?”

“Oh, I think I’ve heard rumors here and there.”

“I make them myself sometimes. For others, too, if they ask.”

The conversation goes on further until they lapse into silence. Riddle’s form shields him from the sun, providing some sort of comfort from the wide-open space and his hand stroking his hair. It gets to him, the lull of sleep pulling him further and further into unconsciousness.

And then his head actually hits the ground because his pillow has decided to stand up. His glasses are placed on his chest.

Something in Riddle pops as he knits his hands together and raises them into the air in a stretch. Azul is not looking at anything in particular– he only happened to notice that Riddle has tied the upper half of his gym jumpsuit around his waist, exposing his oversized shirt that further exposes the tiny pinpricks of brown on his lower back.

“I almost forgot. Congratulations– the average height you fly now is five feet in the air.” He says as he pulls out his thin manila folder and starts scribbling the progress in it.

— — —

It seems that the flying exercises and dance lessons are paying off; Azul has only needed to take two breaks so far. The silver-haired boy in question supports himself on his knees to suck in gulps of fresh night air while Riddle patiently waits. In the meantime, he takes in their surroundings.

The forest clearing has been slightly more… ‘lived in’ compared to what it was like the first week. A speaker is set in between two gnarled tree roots for practice, a picnic blanket for Azul really needs to take a break and a 32 case of 32-ounce water bottles on standby, which, initially, Riddle assumed to be ridiculous. Until Azul proved how much he really needed those bottles by downing 11 in one night alone.

“What?” He asked that day, after downing two more bottles back-to-back.

“You're drinking too much water. It's going to make you sick.”

“I'm expending half of the water by sweating. I'll be fine.”

“Don’t underestimate the threat of overhydration! You should invest in a big water bottle at least! You’re being wasteful, I thought you were all about saving money.”

And so, there's a packet of flavorless electrolyte powder on top of the water case as a fervent reminder to not risk water poisoning.

“Ah, it's salty, but not even salty enough to taste good. It's like drinking barely infused tea.” Is how Azul complains.

“You know, we have been focusing a lot on spinning and footwork. I know there is more than just that.”

He narrows his eyes. “What exactly are you alluding to?”

“I can say I’ve researched this topic just as much as you have, and I’ve seen the other half of rush moves– I’m plenty strong enough to lift you.”

“You do realize those have an added difficulty? It’s not easy maneuvering yourself while holding another person.”

“You’re right but, well…” Azul leans in dramatically, smirk gracing his lips. “You're also… tiny.”

He sees red. Hands catch his fists when he tries to swing them, his own voice distant as he rants once again how his stature has no importance in ANY matter. He could easily hold Azul up! He could! And he was not done growing! He had plenty of time to get taller yet!

“OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!”

“Gah! W– what are you– we agreed!” Azul shudders and flexes his hands, as if he can feel the lack of magic. He twirls his magic pen, dumfounded and offended.

“WE AGREED TO NOTHING! YOU DESERVE TO WEAR THE COLLAR!” It makes him feel better to see it.

“What– what– what about mm– my contracts!? I have– take it off!!” He sputters in response, his face is indigo, fingers curling around the collar in some sort of attempt to bend it. Instead of removing it, Riddle grabs the collar and pulls the taller boy close.

“This is your first and only warning,” He breathes, still not having caught his breath from yelling his heart out, yet he feels a smirk form on his face. “Else, I can make you go through much, much worse.”

He lets go, collar dissipating. Azul falls to his knees and gasps, somehow much purpler than he was a few seconds ago.

“Ah… understood.”

“Good. Now, if you truly think you can keep up, I will allow you… one move to try.”

There are consequences to teasing Riddle. He puffs and extends a hand so Azil can get up (he IS strong enough to lift him off the ground!) and he takes it.

— Chat —

At closing time, Azul receives a call from Kalim. He pauses in wiping down the table to pull it out from his jacket pocket to find himself in a group call with Kalim and Riddle.

“I just got my shipment of silks and decorations!!” The phone crackles as he giggles. He cringes when it’s a tad too loud.

“Well, that’s wonderful,” He hums. He balances the phone between his ear and shoulder and continues to scrub the tables. “Then you must want to set up a date? I have a few ideas.”

“I haven’t had a say in this! Did you take my schedule again?”

“It’s very easy! And we already had a plan~”

“I can make the banquet any time! Even tomorrow!”

“T– tomorrow!?”

“We can do Saturday evening, if Riddle agrees.”

“...Saturday evening.” Riddle quickly flicks through pages in the background, likely his planner. “That’s… yes. I agree.”

“Ooh! Evenings are a great choice; everything looks so pretty as it gets dark. It’ll look great with the colors of–”

“Kalim! Why did you take everything out and not put it back!?”

“Oh, is Jamil there? Say hi to him for me~”

“Yeah, okay! Jamil! Azul says hi!”

“Give me that– why don’t you put that mess away? Don’t you have a boyfriend, Azul?”

“I do!” Azul sighs dreamily for emphasis. “He’s supposed to be in this call right now… Riddle?”

“Riddle? Riddle, are you there?”

“RIIIIIDLEEE! ARE Y–”

“Stop, I’m sure he’s fine.”

“...”

“...”

“...Hmmm…”

Riddle’s end of the call finally crackles to life again after another minute. “Pardon me, did I miss anything?”

“Just a headache of an argument with your… boyfriend. What were you doing?”

“It’s curfew. I needed to do my routine checks.”

Kalim’s voice becomes less distant and Jamil grunts. He can practically see his fellow housewarden smushing his face against his vice’s, fighting for the phone speaker. “Wow, you’re always so dedicated, Riddle!”

“Get back to cleaning–” Kalim’s end of the call hangs up, leaving Azul and Riddle on their own.

“Don’t worry, Riddle. The banquet is on Saturday evening, just like we agreed on before you left.”

“Right. Thank you.”

They’d texted each other regularly, but this was the first time they’d ever actually been on a call. No one else was in the lounge, but just in case, he lays his next words on thick.

“It’s absolutely my pleasure. Good night, sleep well~”

“Good night.”

— — —

It's become a bit of a habit of Azul's to be the first to leave his last class, rush to the one Riddle is in to pick him up and find a place to settle in for a few minutes to a whole hour.

Today they’ve convened at a picnic table in the courtyard. Riddle was getting a jumpstart on his homework right away while Azul busied himself with some overdue dorm files. Instead of sitting on either side of the table, both boys sat on the same bench, their respective papers crowding together and on the verge of mixing, if not for the orderly manners the two conduct themselves.

Riddle sings under his breath to himself in a language he doesn’t understand, but had heard from Heartslabyul, Queendom and second year peers alike. Azul is so engrossed in trying to decipher a third year’s poorly explored essay on why he should be allowed to transfer that he doesn’t immediately notice that Riddle is the one that leans in closer. He scoots in and rests his head just slightly on Azul’s shoulder.

The essay begins to make less and less sense, becoming a jumbled mess akin to alphabet soup as his ears begin to grow hot. Azul’s a sensitive being; he can feel the minute vibrations coming from Riddle’s throat travel up, up, up into his ear to rattle his very brain.

His heartbeat drowns out any other sound, helping him power through his tasks.

— — —

It’s a rare day off at Mostro Lounge.

So why are Jade and Floyd on their way to the restaurant? Easy, Azul called for them. And with two extra ‘please’-es in his texts! This was absolutely worth skipping basketball practice for.

Jade walks a few steps behind him, still in his dirt-speckled lab uniform. He, too, probably thought this was of the utmost urgency, leaving his precious mushrooms untended to.

Azul is sitting at a booth, hunched over and arms wrapped around his legs. It’s his best attempt at making himself small and comfortable– he must be deep, deep, deep in the dumps.

“‘Azuuuuuul~” Floyd leans down and snaps his teeth as close as Azul’s ear as possible. The octopus flinches and coughs, slapping a hand over his mouth to avoid spitting out whatever he was eating this time.

It’s too late, though. Sticky yellowish goo coats his delicate glove and peels away in goopy strings. He can’t help but giggle at the annoyance in Azul’s eyes.

“Hmm~? Wazzat?” His eyes drift to the cardboard case at the center of the table– that means it’s a peace offering– and sniffs the air. Calcium shells and yolk. The irritating smell of wishy-washy cleaning products for foods that really just need a simple dunk in water covers what species they belong to, but when Jade takes one out with a now ungloved hand, the roundness is a dead giveaway.

He pops the round little egg in his mouth before Floyd can try to take it from him. “Sea turtle eggs.” His brother confirms. “Tsk, tsk. Eating before we did, are you?”

“You shouldn’t have!” He cries. Nothing beats eating these little babies raw; this time he can’t blame Azul for (failing to) stealthily lick the yolk off the glove the best he could. He grabs a spare chair to sit in while Jade slides into the opposite booth, completely (not) oblivious to the glare he is being given for letting the chair drag and shriek against the floor.

He crushes an egg between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, savoring the yolk. He takes another egg and crushes that one in between his fingers for fun. It drips down until it’s threatening to stick to his sleeve. He licks it off and then shreds the shell.

Jade and Azul both give him looks that could kill when he tries to take yet another egg. “What, they’re for sharing.”

“Exactly that.” Azul sighs miserably and practically swallows his portion.

“So, what ails you this time?”

Azul proceeds to recount the week’s occurrences, turning bluer and bluer, eating more eggs than Jade and Floyd did combined. Not like he really had an appetite anymore, not with an obviously lovesick octopus pouring his heart out right in front of his eggs. An obviously lovesick octopus that was totally oblivious that he was lovesick.

“Am I getting sick? Should I get checked out by a doctor? Why doesn’t it bother me as much as it should when Riddle touches me?” He gasps, deep in full-on ramble mode. Jade’s grinning like a kid in a candy store. Unfair. Why’s he the only one who gets to have fun here?

Floyd’s frown deepens. Azul had it bad. Was it easier to just tell him how it is instead of teasing him with thinly veiled jokes?

Probably.

Auughhh! Why is it him that was taking on this role!?

Floyd sighs, which turns into a long, aggravated groan as he tips his head back. “Azul. This is very serious.”

Jade’s smile drops. It turns dangerous; warning him to choose his words carefully. He doesn’t care, too bad.

“I can’t take it anymore! Azul, it’s so obvious that y–”

Floyd doesn’t get to finish his sentence because something knocks him straight off his chair. He squirms and struggles to pull himself up, but a hand forcefully gathers his wrists above his head. He squirms, utilizing his legs to kick at the offender– it’s Jade, of course– but he stubbornly clings onto his wrists. He is forced to use his last resort.

His teeth find the flesh of an arm, sinking as deep as he can with multiple layers of fabric in between them. Jade grunts, finally letting go of his wrists to grab him by his hair to pry his teeth out. Floyd grabs his brother’s face in a wordless hiss, trying to keep it away from biting him back.

They start to roll around, growling and shrieking and spreading flecks of blood across the floor. At some point, he loses his grip on Jade’s face and feels his needle-like bite in his shoulder. He begins to punch him for good measure until Floyd gives up.

Once Floyd goes limp in surrender, Jade lifts his head as smiles with all of his teeth– dyed red by his twin’s blood– at Azul. “What Floyd was trying to say, was, that unfortunately, you are incredibly touch starved, my friend.”

Azul looks only half convinced, more freaked out by their brawl to properly listen.

“Ahh… you two are impossible. Nevermind, I’ll figure this out on my own.”

“SIGHHH. Before you go, gimme another shift! I’m saving up for something!!”

“Mhm.”

Floyd groans, squirming himself out from underneath Jade now that he isn’t pinned down. He grabs his fallen chair and slumps into it. Jade does the same with another chair, smiling all the while. They don’t say a thing for a minute.

Then another minute.

Then another.

Then–

“I didn’t mean to bring Riddle on purpose.”

“I know, Floyd.”

“How was I supposed to remember he had a crush on Riddle! He has a new crush every week! Idia, Jamil, Deuce– Vil, at one point! How am I supposed to keep up with him? We hafta’ tell him.”

Jade licks his wound clean, tongue drawing over the bloody skin and torn flesh. “Not yet. He needs to find it out on his own.”

“But why!?”

“They’re his feelings. We know best of all that he doesn’t accept things until he sees them for himself.”

“Yeah, but… ahhhh…”

“Say it, what worries you the most?”

“What if… UGH. What if he realizes too late, after the opportunity is gone? What if, worse, Clownfish rejects him? He’ll put everyone at a distance, and that includes us!”

“I wouldn’t worry about that; he has two weeks left to come to a conclusion himself. And two weeks to charm Riddle, intentionally or not.”

Floyd slumps further in his chair, the side of his face throbbing more intensely with his irritation. “You know I’m no good at waiting games, Jadeeeee.”

Jade grins again, the blood on his teeth his own this time.

“And, well. If Clownfish happens to reject Azul… accidents can happen to anybody, including him.”

“Throwing someone down the stairs is such a boring sh*t way to get rid of someone. I don’t get your obsession with it”

“Hm~? But I’ve always wanted to try it… then how about a bet to lift your spirits?”

“Deal.”

Chapter 6: Clause 6

Chapter Text

Once again, Riddle found himself in town. This time, however, he found his nerves to be much higher as he was walking in town with Azul.

He squeezes the other boy’s arm tighter as a form to combat the tight anxious knots in his stomach, one arm wrapped tightly around the arm and the other just gripping his bicep with a hand. Despite the morning, the street they were taking was significantly busier than the time Cater took him– had it really been only a week since then?

Perhaps it has to do with the fact that they're in a different part of town. Whatever the case, he desperately did not want to separate from the one person he did know.

“Riddle,” Azul chuckles softly. His face is tinted just slightly with the indigo he's familiar with, it must be the exercise. “Please, you’re going to trip me up.”

“Sorry.” He murmurs.

A reprimand forms on the tip of his tongue when the third person this street bumps into them, and this one gives them a look! An arm wraps around Riddle’s shoulder before he can give them a piece of his mind. “Look, we’re almost there.”

Tucked in between a jewelry store and pawn shop, Cenizas Tailoring’s only advertisem*nt is a poster on its display window, designed to look like a clothing dag. The cornflower blue coat of paint needs a small retouching, but it has… a homey, lived-in feel that he’s only seen in buildings like Trey’s bakery and Che’nya’s house that he’s very unfamiliar with.

“Then let’s get this over with.” With an indignant huff, he inserts a finger into his collar and pulls it away from his skin. There isn’t a cloud in the sky. Even Azul has risked wrinkling his uniform jacket by wrapping it around his waist and loosening his tie. He excused the actions by claiming that this appointment was much more casual, and they’d have to discard the extra layers either way.

The bell attached to the door chimes pleasantly and the pair are hit with an equally pleasant gust of air conditioning. The wood underfoot is new, a TV overhead looping the track of a fake fireplace. The air smells like a certain third year’s candle collection– spiced vanilla, was it? It really does feel like Che’nya’s house.

A girl behind the service desk their age with curly black hair and electric pink highlights lazily glances up from her phone, revealing heavily painted eyes and long false eyelashes. Her oversized T-shirt is off shoulder and has holes in them– holes at the collar! Shouldn’t clothes be thrown out when they have holes? They’re large enough that he can see her bronze skin though every single one of them.

Over the questionable shirt is an apron with the store's name and her name stitched on it, going against the girl’s entire….. aesthetic. A young man in a matching apron appears from behind a doorway closed off by curtains, smoothing over his messy sand-colored hair.

“Hello, hello, are you here for an appointment?” The young man– Nicholas, according to his apron– asked.

“Yes, we’re under the name ‘Azul Ashengrotto’?”

The girl– Naomi– flips through a thick book at her side and grunts in confirmation. Her nails are also painted black, but not black with patterns like Cater has done for his club meet, just black.

“Are your partners late? I was under the impression this was an appointment for a couple.”

“...Nick–”

“Yes. And we are here.”

“Do you perhaps have photos of your partner’s outfits? Are you not matching?”

“Pardon?” Riddle blinks.

Nicholas shrugs, flippantly fixing his hair again. “You can also be be batchelors as well, that doesn’t mean you had to make a couple’s reservation, even if you’re matching, though…”

“Niiiiick.” Naomi says again, more of a warning this time.

“But! Well, you’re Night Raven College students– there are no girls in Night Raven College! So the boy beside you can’t be–”

“Nick–!”

“EXCUSE ME!” Riddle turns red, blood roaring in his ears. “I’LL LET YOU KNOW THIS MAN IS IN FACT MY BOYFRIEND, DESPITE YOUR ASSUMPTIONS! I FIND THIS TALKING IN CIRCLES AND YOUR CLOSE-MINDEDNESS OFFENSIVE!”

“R– r– r– Riddle!!” Azul gasps, grappling him by the shoulders and keeping him from walking forward.

“I f*ckin’ knew it.” Naomi groans. Nicholas coughs and wears the appropriate expression for someone who was just screamed at.

“Now, what is going on out front?” A new voice comes from behind the curtains, a woman with glasses, wispy short gray hair. Her apron is only around her waist, various little stitching tools dangling out and off of her pockets and wrists.

“I told you you shouldn’t have hired him.” Naomi sighs.

“Ohh, forgive Nicholas, we– eh– aha– keep him in the back for a reason.” With a mere flick of her hand and the flash of her frosty blue magestone, tiny embers flow under the book and bring it up to her waiting hands.

“Azul Ashengrotto, let me guess.”

Azul pushes his glasses up his nose with a relieved exhale. “Yes, that’s us.”

“Great!” The older woman chortles while motioning to the girl behind the desk with a hand. “Come, I’ll be the one to assist you, young man. Naomi!”

“Don’t offend any other customers, Nicholas.” Naomi rumbles as she rises from her seat. A hoodie with a mysterious daisy decal stamped on its front is thrown over the back of it– he’s seen that somewhere, hasn’t he? He can barely make out the text and doesn’t bother to when he sees the rest of the girl’s outfit. Her shirt is tucked into a skirt that’s only mid-thigh at the front, growing longer and longer down to her thick, tall boots. Her stockings– fishnet, he learned of them recently too– are also torn. He personally can’t make sense of a single thing she’s wearing.

A slight panic shoots through Riddle when he notices that she’s walking over to help him.

“Right, measuring and fitting…” Azul’s Adam's apple bobs. He lets go of his shoulders– has the taller boy been holding onto him the entire time?

Riddle opens the folder containing all his references and pages through them. They’d agreed to stick to certain appropriate color palettes, but he’d have free choice of everything else. This would be difficult.

…Or, perhaps not. Passing by the array of whites, ivories and creams (mostly bridalwear) a gown-like outfit in between them and the reds catches his eye. Naomi stops to look where he’s looking, hands in her skirt pockets.

“You can try it out,” Her deep voice is clearer now that she’s not behind a desk and cellphone. “Gramma makes all of the designs ‘n most of the gowns herself.”

“Hm... I think I will.”

— — —

Azul and Riddle had left early in the morning for the fitting (He could still feel the measuring tape cinching in on his waist...) and now they were on their way to visit Scarabia to get one free item of the other’s choosing so that they could squeeze in studies and any other unfinished business before the party officially began.

Tiny beads of perspiration join together in the small of Azul’s back to soak his shirt. He’s walked more than his monthly average this week alone. “Ahh, I’m dead on my feet! I’m so thankful to have so much more to look forward to~” He stops at Scarabia’s mirror to bow low and extend an arm towards it.

He can see his smirk reflected in Riddle’s slate-gray eyes, sparkling with incredulity. He breezes past him, huffing and puffing like the little queen he is.

“I’m sure you know the kind of gifts I like~!” Azul calls after him. He hesitates to follow.

It was the very first time Azul had ever heard the redhead refer to him as his boyfriend. Jade and Floyd found it fun to tease him by referring to Riddle by that title so casually it slipped into his own vocabulary. But for Riddle to do so, even in a fit of rage…

“Ugh.” Azul primps and preens his out-of-place hair and takes off his uniform jacket. He would never skip out on a chance to be in Scarabia and attempt to gently persuade Jamil that Octavinelle is the dorm for him, but it’s so dreadfully hot…

“Hello, Azul Ashengrotto~!”

“Ortho! I said no sidequests!”

He looks up from his glasses and microfiber cloth to see two fuzzy shapes stood at Ignihyde’s entrance. The blue at the tops of their heads moves and shifts and flickers gives away their identities.

“Ortho, Idia! Hello to you to.”

“Noooooooo.” Idia grumbles, flipping up his hood. It makes a twinge of spite shoot through his person. “Ortho, have you received your invitation for this evening’s party? Are you two attending?”

Idia gives him a glare of sheer terror and hatred, the scowl twisting his lips downward and the eyebags accentuated by the shadows of his hood making him appear like a creature from the deep. In contrast, Ortho ‘jumps’ with glee and claps his hands.

“We both did! I’m trying to convince Idia to go…”

“I’m not going!”

“...But he’s very determined.”

Azul shakes his head in mock disappointment. “Oh dear, it would mean so much to me if my fellow Board Club members and housewarden would go, but it can't be helped, I suppose.”

Ortho reacts accordingly, humming. Now that the idea that Azul would be upset to see his big brother miss out on the festivities, his drive is just as strong as Idia’s. “I’m sure Idia can still change his mind, Azul Ashengrotto! Don’t lose hope!”

He snickers internally as Idia desperately grips Ortho by an arm and drags him away, muttering about “Can’t mash A hard enough….” Azul gives them a cheerful wave goodbye.

The cool sensation that washes over him gives way to blisteringly hot, dry air. The sound of running water reaches Azul’s ears, coming from the fountain just in front of him. Praised be the constructors of the dorm that the portal leaves people in the center of the building instead of in the middle of sand.

Kalim is laughing and giggling and pointing things out to Riddle– the entrance is decorated and draped with silks and ropes of gold, red and purple, the path lined with gilded queue poles. Jamil is to call him over, yet he holds a hand up to silence Azul when he tries to greet him.

“I’ve prevented Kalim from getting at least a dozen head injuries and twice the broken bones while decorating today and I still have to prepare half of the food.” Jamil grouches. “You can refrain from the ‘pleasantries’ for one day.”

“Do you really hate the idea of a party being thrown for me that much?”

“Yes.”

Azul grit his teeth and makes a show of disappointment again. “Then I suppose it cannot be helped.”

“Oh! Hi Azul! Riddle said you were right behind him but then you didn’t appear, and you were taking a while–” Kalim bounds up and envelops Azul in a tight hug. It’s warm and makes his clothes stick to his skin.

“I was held back talking to Idia.”

“Ohh… I invited Idia twice but haven’t gotten anything back. Ortho is coming, though.” Kalim peels away from him and takes the lead on the walk to the treasury. Azul was familiar with the layout of the dorm, but multiple halls were barred out with the same queue polls this time. More silks and threads drape the walls in the same colors and it works… surprisingly well.

The treasury doors are locked, covered with a thick, vibrant purple sheet that is without a doubt, mind blowingly expensive. The very idea of just one square inch of that fabric possibly going for a month’s earnings at Mostro made him drool.

Jingling a pair of keys on a ring, Kalim opens a second equally large door and pushes his entire weight against it to open it, grunting. He spreads his arms wide in a ‘ta-daa’ motion. “Welcome to the second treasury!! You can pick out anything for each other here.”

Much like the first treasury, the piles of gold and trinkets reach the ceilings and line the walls, semi-sorted into rows. It’s every man’s dream– the desire to throw himself into the treasures and roll around in them the way a human does in fallen leaves swells up in Azul’s chest. He discretely wipes his mouth to ensure he’s not drooling.

“The second treasury is full of more insignificant gifts and miscellaneous things Kalim has gotten over the years. The room is tested for anything unsafe– poisons, gasses and foreign magic bi-weekly.” Jamil recites, his voice a monotone drone that implies he’s said this before. It’s a sad reminder of his self before winter break.

“Awe, don’t call gifts insignificant, Jamil!” Kalim sighs and shakes his head, making his jewelry tinkle. “I’m just giving them homes that would appreciate them more.”

“Don’t humanize the hunks of gold… no one sees them that way but you.”

Lead further into the second treasury, Azul can’t help but walk around in a circle to take it all in. This was the second treasury, yet it was filled to the brim with unimaginable riches… one day, he would have something like this. One day!

“Some of these pieces seem so old, do they have any sort of history?” Riddle asks softly, as if speaking too loud would ruin the atmosphere. His eyes are wide and reflect a dark orange rather than their usual steel.

“Hmm, I dunno! Probably.” Kalim laughs.

“Bigger pieces like the one you’re touching,” Jamil replies and taps the large empty picture frame that Riddle was tracing the patterns and engravings of with a finger. “Do. This one belonged to a family who wanted to get the Asim’s favor. It used to house a family tree from the family’s founder to the youngest heir before it was gifted to Kalim for his… thirteenth birthday, I belive.”

“They just gave away something of so much significance to the family, just like that?”

Jamil shrugs. “Like I said. They wanted to get the Asim’s favor.”

“I feel bad for putting it here but I don’t really know what to do with it! It’s really big.”

Azul is only partially listening to the conversation; he’s much busier multitasking by marveling at the riches and finding a suitable gift for Riddle. Jamil dutifully answers all of Riddle’s questions, Kalim sits on a cushion he found, observing the two.

As more time passes and Riddle and Jamil continue to converse, he feels the too-familiar sensation of jealousy bubbling in his chest. Is it the riches? Is it that Jamil and Riddle are getting along so well despite his best efforts to raise rapport with the both of them individually? Perhaps he’s too old for tantrums, but the idea is so appealing. He desperately wants a way to vent out this suffocating feeling.

He feels his temper flare further when he glances at the two. Jamil is holding open a heavy leather trunk open for the shorter boy to rummage through. He nearly trips over a little leather pouch that’s as heavy as a cement block.

For a moment, Azul considers kicking it across the room.

“Azul, would you come here for a moment?”

“Hm?”

Perhaps a little too eager to please, Azul drops a weathered trinket and picks his way through now scattered treasure to meet the other boy expectantly.

Riddle puts his hands on his hips and harrumphs. “Bend down, you’re too tall!”

Contradictory to his foul mood only a few seconds ago, Azul finds himself giggling. Riddle’s jaw drops from the sheer audacity of the action and turns pink.

“A– are you making fun of me!?”

“O– of… course not…!”

The shorter boy snaps and grabs him by the tie, lowering him to his level in an instant. “You are! Augh, all I did was make a simple request!”

“I just– just wasn’t expecting–! Here, what if I…” Feeling devious, he kicks away things from the floor and sits down so that he’s now the one looking up. “Is this good enough for you?”

The redhead turns as red as his hair.

“You know what… yes! This is fine!”

A hand cups his cheek, tilts his head with force and another hand pulls out one of his bobby pins– right, Riddle knows about them– to replace it with a pin. Azul taps the pin with his fingers– it’s large and rectangular, the engravings swirling and twisting like water.

The trunk Jamil was holding open was full of little accessories, organized in rows. Brooches, pins, hairpins and more. Riddle nods approvingly, still holding Azul’s face.

“Oh, you’ve picked something out.”

Jamil’s expression turns a little smug. “If you need help picking out something yourself…”

The pang of jealousy returns and Azul replies fiercer than intended. “Butt out.”

— — —

Finally. The last of the food is ready to be served.

Wrapping two dish towels around the handles of the pot, Jamil pulls it off of the stove. He should have finished around thirty minutes earlier, but Kalim insisted on changing their usual party menu for this one event. Music booms beyond the door of the kitchen as he places the pot and appropriate serving utensils on a rolling cart.

A long table at the back of the room is guarded by magic queue polls to avoid anyone crashing into his hard work. He casts a barrier spell over himself with ease to prevent the same. At the table, Cater is piling his plate up with the spiciest options available, cackling to himself and snapping pictures.

Ortho carefully floats above the table, scanning all the ingredients with equal glee. His gear is a white version of his regular school gear, the blue covered in glitter. His face– also covered in blue glitter around his eyes– catches the flashing lights when he turns to look at a black hooded figure that’s holding an energy drink. They weren’t even serving those here!

Jamil sets the pot down. Someone stole all the plastic spoons already, some of the napkins were spilled into a sauce…

“Myah!! What smells so good!?”

On instinct, Jamil slaps away the hand– paw– trying to dip itself into the pot. Not only is it hot, but it’s unsanitary. Unfortunately, Grim doesn’t quite get it when he tries to explain so. “Hench-human! Get me a bowl of whatever that tasty stuff is!”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and groans internally. He needs to tend to the mess first. When he returns with more spoons and a bag to throw away the messy napkins, he hears Grim cry out.

“MYAHHH! I burnt my tongue! Now I won’t be able to taste anything!!”

Ah, sweet satisfaction of comeuppance. Now, napkins set, spoons replaced, time to check on Kalim. Scanning the crowd, he could see Ortho bobbing a head above with the rest of the first years. He can recognize Vil and Rook in the center of the crowd and Cater, Trey and the hooded person sitting at the edge of a crowd.

He drifts around the edges of moving people, rejecting invites and avoiding running into others fooling around. People are still arriving, so he expects to run into Kalim at the entrance, but he actually runs into Kalim looking for something.

“Jamilllll~! I found you.”

“Kalim. What were you doing?”

“What was I doing…? Oh! Yeah, I can’t find Azul or Riddle!” Kalim grabs Jamil by the arms.

Jamil’s frowns, scanning the room. “It’s probably too much for them. They might be… hm.”

The main lounge is too open, Riddle wouldn’t be the type to go past the queue polls just for some peace and quiet… Azul liked small spaces too, didn’t he? Someone once said something like that about him. Floyd, probably.

Speaking of Floyd.

“Sea Snake, Sea Otter~ I can see you’re looking for something.” The weight of a chin falls upon his head. Kalim giggles, Jade sidling behind the heir, arms behind his back. “Floyd, Jade– have you seen Azul or Riddle?”

“Clownfishie and Azul? Yeah, they went somewhere. Looked like little fish looking for some coral to hide behind.”

“I believe they left for a balcony.” Jade smiles, tips of his sharp teeth showing just a bit from between his lips. Watching him hover just behind Kalim, Jamil can’t help but remember that Floyd, only a few days ago, came into basketball practice covered in horrifying bruises and a bite mark. The eel simply threw his head back and laughed when everyone stared at him in the locker room.

“Ahahah! Jade beat the sh*t outta me. Totally gonna get him back for it, though…”

The leech twin doesn’t miss the eyes on him. For the fraction of a second, those mismatched eyes meet charcoal ones, and the smile widens.

“Then,” Jamil ducks from Floyd’s chin and grabs Kalim in one smooth motion. “We’ll go look for them, thanks.” It’s not enough to shake them off.

“Awee, where are you going? We can help.”

Jade follows them like a shadow, arms still behind his back. Even when Jamil tries to cut through the growing crowd and they get swarmed by people greeting Kalim, the Leech twins never lose them.

All of the available balconies on the west side were empty. (Although he had to chase out a trio of guests from entering a clearly barred hallway) Cater and the hooded fellow on the eastmost balcony leaning dangerously over the balcony (Drinking a differently colored energy drink?) and Ruggie clinging to a swathe of stolen silk.

…Jamil lets him go.

In the end, Jamil wasn’t even the one to find them. A shout resounded just above the music and voices, followed by a cackle.

Riddle and Azul sat at a balcony, as Jade had said. There was an abundance of pillows strewn on the floor, Riddle hugging one tightly and brandishing another one as a shield against Floyd. Azul looked just as startled as the shorter boy.

Floyd gives Jamil and Kalim a jubilant look, holding a red pillow. Part of his hair is astray, implying it was thrown at him. “Sea otter, I found ‘em for you!”

“Ah, Kalim,” Azul hums. “I wasn’t aware you were looking for us. You have our numbers.”

Jamil balls his fists in irritation. Of course Kalim had their numbers, they literally tutor him– and he himself was responsible for making sure Kalim’s phone was charged! Kalim frowns and shakes his head.

“Awe man, I totally forgot I could! Sorry…”

Azul scoots closer to Riddle, getting as close as possible without touching him. It’s aggressively awkward, however much Azul tries to look like he’s totally calm. It’s off putting.

Like all things Azul, really.

“It’s fine. What did you need us for?”

“Well~ since it is your party after all, and I see that you know how to dance– I was thinking you could be the first to dance!”

Azul and Riddle paled. Azul looked particularly sickly.

“How delightful. It is a party in your honor– this is what you’ve been practicing for isn’t it?”

Azul glares at Jade, his entire face scrunching up in displeasure at the very idea. Riddle closes his eyes pensively, placing a fist near his face in thought. “Unfortunately, I believe we are going to have to decline your offer, Kalim. Azul is still learning and won’t be able to keep up with a proper dance.”

“Excuse me!?” The other boy peels away from him and gives him an incredulous look. Jamil can’t help but snicker. “Sounds about right.”

“That’s what I’m doing, excusing you.” Riddle tilts his head primly as if he’s said nothing wrong.

The octopus’ face scrunches up further, bottom lip twitching as if he was fighting back a pout. He shoots up to his feet and dusts off invisible dust from his lap, then bends back down to lift Riddle from his seat. The shorter boy… squeaks? In surprise.

“I absolutely detest that statement!”

“What in the very name of the Queen of Hearts do you think you’re doing!?”

“Helping you up so we can go dance, obviously.” Azul snorts.

“But I just– guh– why,” Riddle tries to tug himself from Azul’s grip in a futile attempt to get free. “Are. You. So. Strong!?”

Azul doesn’t answer. Kalim giggles, claps his hands enthusiastically and jumps with joy before leading the pair to their doom.

“Great heavens!!”

“PffhHAHAHA– Clownfishie, why do you talk like that!?”

Just as Floyd makes that comment, almost as soon as he doubles over in laughter his amusem*nt is cut short by a visage of alarm and some sort of magic throws him at least ten feet away from the little group. His landing and following shout of frustration is welcomed by the gasps of the people he was thrown into.

“Arrrrugh! Stupid contractssss… not lettin’ me have ANY fun…..”

Jamil and Jade silently pick up Floyd, Jamil intending to abandon the Leech twins once again. Instead, they both follow him throughout his entire process of checking the food table again, clearing a mess and replacing the already empty drinks. It is in no way fascinating, but Jade eyes the table with much interest.

When he’s done, Jamil allows himself to lean on the table, watching his master expertly maneuver people into cleaning an area from afar. Jade chuckles silently at the absolute mortification on the faces of the ‘happy’ couple.

While Jamil, as a seasoned dancer, can tell Azul struggles with keeping up and reading the cues his partner was giving him, given the music’s fast pace. But he’s not absolutely failing. At some points, they almost appear to be prancing and hopping, at other times waltzing, then Riddle plasters his back to Azul’s chest, eyes obscured by his bangs, yet both become locked in a wordless battle.

Azul’s mouth curls into a smile that tells of nothing good to come. As Riddle pulls away, the former places his hands on the shorter boy’s waist. Riddle looks particularly miffed.

In an instant, Riddle is hoisted up into the air and spun, and when he’s lowered back to the floor, the pair go right back to twirling and prancing and waltzing. It earns some “Ooh”s and “Ahh”s from people watching, and someone whistles from way back. Cater, most likely; a trip to the Pop Music Club completely startled Jamil when the senior whistled in encouragement to one of Kalim’s tricks– it was loud loud, that boy could cheer. Why weren’t they allowed to have one of the soundproofed rooms, again..?

Jamil finds himself so lost in his thoughts that he misses almost all of the last half of the dance. He does come out of it in time to watch Azul trip– no, Riddle purposely kicks the Octavinelle housewarden’s shiny shoe out of place– and stumble backwards. Riddle’s hands fly to catch him by his jacket lapels, leaning in with an overly smug smirk.

Deep, deep indigo blue crawls its way from the edges of Azul’s stunned face until he looks like he could contest Riddle. The redhead’s mouth moves to say something just between them, then allows him to ease back into a standing position. The dance is over and Kalim is the first to bounce over to praise and take them away.

Well, Azul at least. Heartslabyul’s housewarden is whisked away by Cater and a few other card soldiers.

Jade presses a cup into Azul’s hands, face contorted and knit into an indescribable emotion. He’s baring all of his fine teeth like a threat, eyes squinting in what best could be described as glee, but eyebrows pinched together as if he was in terrible pain. Azul numbly accepts the drink.

“I– if you excuse me, I’d like some fresh air…”

“Aw, ‘Zullll…” Floyd drawls, the nickname foreign to Jamil and Kalim. Jamil just barely catches Jade chuckling “Poor, unfortunate soul…” under his breath and over the music. He doesn’t dwell on it too long, because he is Jamil Viper and he’s cursed to deal with as much bullsh*t from the world as possible.

“Hey, Sea Snake. Let’s go dance.”

Jamil can tell that, for the time being, Floyd isn’t going to relent on this one. “Please don’t let Kalim out of your sight, Jade.”

“I will try.” The eel offers a small, close-mouthed smile and a hand to his chest. “Kalim, will you accompany me to the food? I’d appreciate a ‘tour’ of sorts.”

“Ahahaha~ see ya later, goofsh*ts~!”

— — —

Being around a place so loud for so long is going to damage Riddle’s ears. He’s been insisting so for the past hours, but also refused to leave when offered– he was one of the guests of honor.

He’s very surprised to see how obedient the other guests are, the moment Kalim announces that the party is coming to a close, they do what they’re told and collect their things, fight for the last bits of food, and go for one last dance.

This is the last and only time he’s attending one of Kalim’s parties, Riddle decides. He was waiting at the entrance of the dorm building to give his farewells and head back in time for his curfew check.

“Riddle,” Jamil walks up– he looks exhausted with Floyd trailing after him– “I didn’t get the chance to talk to you earlier, but your performance was quite nice. I wouldn’t mind learning from you.”

Before Riddle can reply, he feels a heavy hand squeeze his shoulder from behind.

“Now, Jamil, you’re being a little forward with a boy who you know is taken.” The tone comes a little forced and breath tickles Riddle’s ear. Jamil scoffs, a hand on his hip. “It was literally just a question!”

“Of course it was, but my greed doesn’t stop at material possessions.”

Riddle shrugs off Azul’s hand, feeling oddly warm. “Pardon?”

“Guuuys!”

“Oh, no.”

Kalim runs up to them holding a cardboard box of silky decorations. “Iiiii have one last gift!”

Jamil grits his teeth and spreads his arms wide. “Kalim, you're giving them silk!?” Azul, in contrast, looks like he’s won the lottery– he has, in a way.

“You’re giving us SILK!?!?”

“We–ll… the storage room is full… and this is a nice gift, isn’t it?”

“The storage… is…” Jamil echoes. “I’ll… get to that… later… Ahem! I actually prepared for something like this.”

With the wave of his crimson pen, Jamil summons forth a stapled packet of papers and rudely shoves them into Azul’s chest. Azul brightens even more as he analyzes the papers.

“My, my, Jamil… contracts? Why, you’re only showing yourself to be fit for Octavinelle more and m.. ore…” His smile became strained and the papers crumpled under his hold. “N– n… Not for resale!? J– Jamil, do you have any idea how much these go for??”

“That is precisely why.”

“Ooh, ooh! I know–!” Kalim chirps, then, with little prompt, rattles off the amount the silks he’s holding could go for– taking the color, weight, shipping costs and current prices all into account down to the sorcent. The tweels are the only ones that appear surprised.

“Azul, what are you teaching him!?”

Riddle answers in his place. “That’s all Kalim, actually. While he certainly struggles with… thinking critically… he’s good at what he’s good at.”

“He’s the heir of a wealthy merchant, I’d be even more worried for his future if he couldn’t do this in his sleep.” Jamil adds.

“Yes, yes. I’d say Kalim’s biggest problem in academics is showing his work.” Azul hums.

“Aweee… writing stuff out is always so tricky…” Kalim frowns and shakes his head, then pumps his fist. “Jamil used to write it out for me, but I’ve been trying to do it on my own a lot more!”

Jamil cleared his throat, a haughty smile gracing his face. “Well, Azul. Will you sign and take the gift or not?”

“...” The boy in question stares at the papers like it’s the root of all evil. It’s funny and oddly endearing. “Of course I will; it’s a gift from a dear friend! In fact, I’ll commission it to be made into something for the Lounge. When someone asks where I got it, I’ll redirect them to Kalim.”

Kalim grins and glows with a brightness that rivals the Scarabian sun, Jamil clicks his tongue and Riddle can’t hold back his scoff. Azul quickly signs with his magical pen, eyes glancing back towards him.

“What, does my dear boyfriend disapprove?”

A gloved hand gently tilts Riddle’s head upwards by his chin. Inexplicably, he feels his heart leap and slam straight into his throat and swallows thickly on instinct. All the boy can think about is a very strange reminder that Azul Ashengrotto is very pretty.

Warm lights on the floor shade his face just enough to highlight his lips and mole and not cause a glare on his glasses, this close up Riddle can see very long silver eyelashes. Slightly tousled silver hair frames his face more than usual due to Azul looking down.

Riddle comes to his senses and grabs the offending wrist, shoving it the best he could. “For all your class, you are such a brute.” He huffs and puffs and desperately hopes his face doesn’t look as warm as it feels.

The second years give their goodbyes and rush to their respective dorms. (Kalim enthusiastically waving and insisting they can clean up tomorrow to Jamil) The whole trip back, curfew check, and his nightly routine feel like a blur. Like he simply blinked, and he was now in bed, curtains blocking out the light, blanket to his shoulders.

It’s odd. He doesn’t feel tired.

He stares at total darkness for minutes on end, growing terribly concerned for his sleep schedule. At this rate, he won’t sleep eight hours!

As Riddle waits for sleep to come, refusing to get up for any reason, his mind begins to wander to the oddest thing: Azul.

From his gorgeous face to his soft, silken silver hair, the scent of his cologne, to this night’s events. The weight of his hands on his hands, on his waist, practiced for days. His voice is rather pleasing, too. It’s only natural; Azul is in the school’s choir class. It’s the one class the pair share.

The bed, with its closed curtains and the blanket, with its natural weight, begin to feel stifling. Azul’s name as a whole has quite the nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Azul Ashengrotto.

Why was he thinking about Azul? His face is warm again, his throat dry– was he coming down with something..? Maybe he came in contact with someone ill at the party, even if it was a little too fast to be infected. That would be terrible for multiple reasons!

Riddle grumbles and finally, finally sits up. Just to fold his blanket a little lower, fluff and flip his pillow to the other side. Curse Azul, curse his contract! Nothing should impact his sleep this severely.

And yet, even as he’s drifting off, Riddle continues to think about that time he had another body to cuddle.

Chapter 7: Clause 7

Chapter Text

Riddle continues to think about Azul for the entirety of the next week. Every night, when he has nothing to think about, he thinks about Azul. Their daily text messages become something he looks forward to, spending as much time as possible talking to him. Practice has become oddly intense on both ends, determined to learn and perfect as much as possible– and perhaps something more fueled that determination.

Wishful thinking on Riddle’s end… probably.

On Sunday, he thinks about the way Azul laughs. Soft chuckles and throaty giddy giggles. His (endearing?) unhinged facial expression when the mask of a classy man falls and he throws his head back to laugh, an uncontrollable cackle that… that…

A squeal escapes his lips. Riddle vents by kicking his feet all over the place and making a mess of his bed, just barely biting back a girlish giggle.

On Monday, he pictures the mole just astray from the bespectacled boy’s lips. A popular Queendom superstition was that the places one had moles were where their lovers kissed them the most in a past life.

He sinks under his heavy blanket thinking to himself. What a lucky partner.

On Tuesday night, Riddle finds himself fixating on Azul’s piano skills. He’s only played once in their first year, showcasing his talent with the piano in the corner of the class they did choir in. The old man that was their professor– older than Professor Trein, bless his heart– praised Azul for his skill. The octopus humbly claimed that he had not played the piano in a while and was glad to hear that he had not grown too rusty.

Their teacher, specifically, had said that Azul was ‘Skilled with his fingers’, causing half of the class to stifle their laughter. Riddle didn't get it– he still didn't– but some subconscious part of his mind must have, because his brain was replaying the phrase over and over in his head and his face was going all hot and it was affecting the rest of his body now—

Skilled… with his… fin.. gers..?

Why did that thought fluster so much? What dots was he not connecting!? In his frustration, he snatches his pillow and screams. It provides little catharsis.

Trey enters the room while he’s busy screaming. His friend looks justifiably concerned, but simply raises an eyebrow in question.

“I’m practicing a new form of anger management.”

Trey nods slowly and leans out the door. “Good… luck?”

Before he can close the door, Riddle speaks up again.

“I think I’ve become infatuated with Azul.”

“Well… he’s your boyfriend, no?”

That word that once irritated him before now makes his heart skip in a way that makes him nauseous. Riddle bites his lip. “...More than that. I don’t know how to explain it. H– he makes me all… warm… urgh, nevermind.”

Face still facing the pillow, Riddle doesn’t notice the look of dawning horror that comes across Trey’s face as he hollowly wishes his underclassman a good night.

The next morning, as he descends the stairs Riddle can hear a conversation coming from the third year hallway.

“Trey. I am NOOOT giving him the birds-and-the-bees-and-the-bees-and-the-bees-and-the-birds-and-the-birds talk! YOU go up there and tell him about ‘when a boy loves his boyfriend very much..’! You’re practically his MO–”

“Hello?”

“AAAA-aaauuuhiiiii~! Houuuusewarrrden!”

On Wednesday, Riddle rereads Azul’s good night text over and over again. Something feels light in his chest, and he can’t lie still, unaware of the smile that split his face. Sleep was a wish, wasted on tossing and turning hours on end.

On Thursday, he hugs a spare pillow and wishes it was as warm as Azul. If only it could smell as… comforting? Yes, comforting. He spelled like sea salt… did he smell like the beach? He’d never visited the Island’s shores before, so he wouldn’t know.

Sometimes Deuce came from the beach, smelling vaguely like oil and salt and a breeze.

On Friday, he wastes his sleep time studying octopi and wondering just what Azul looks like without the transformation potion. He learns of the purpose of their three hearts and feels the desire to know if the merman really did have three just like them. They really do have blue blood!

It's a little exciting, his curtains sealed tight and a flashlight in his hand illuminating the book he's reading– he's forgone taking physical notes this time. Lying on his stomach, he kicks his feet back and forth.

Even more excitement aids his usual restlessness that night, knowing he’d be going to be sleeping in a hotel for the first time soon and the very next night dancing at a proper ball and in very pretty (In his opinion) formal wear. He’d only met an acquaintance of his mother’s that was of Kingdom descent and now he’d be going to a place rife with history of the long fallen kingdom.

With a small giggle, he memoriezes the page number and stows the library book and flashlight under his bed, curling into the unmade bed with satisfaction.

It was a truly frightening obsession.

— — —

Choir class is only once every other week. Riddle is trying his best to power though, yet it seems that it’s Azul who is lacking. His eyes grow cloudy as he mentally drifts off, falls painfully out of sync, clearing his throat and taking sips of water more than once.

“I must be falling under the weather.” He sighs.

Batting his long silvery eyelashes at the choirmaster, he begs for Riddle to be lenient on him. Startlingly, Riddle does consider it for a moment– before coming to his senses and going harder on him.

Multiple students sigh and throw pitying looks at their classmate, others mocking his failed grab for sympathy. The dark look Azul gains from their jabs twists something in Riddle and he loudly forces everyone back on track.

Azul sits out for the rest of class.

Riddle feels disappointment. He was looking forward to listening to Azul sing, even if it was mixed in with other voices.

Luckily, they also have flight practice today– and he gets the bright idea to cut their lesson thirty minutes in, the other boy is all too happy to be able to sit on the grass. He isn’t free of suspicion as the redhead sits down beside him.

“I was hoping we could use the rest of your flight classes to work on your voice.”

“I do perfectly fine with my grades without your meddling. I had an off day, that’s all.”

Riddle pouts and crosses his arms. “Fine, I just want to hear you sing.”

“Why? I am not here for your entertainment.”

Why? Dozens of reasons and no reasons at all form on the tip of his tongue. In his mind, he shouts it like a tantrum, I want to hear your voice, I want to hear you sing, I want to hear you sing!! I want to know everything, I want to—

“No. Your voice just piqued my interest.”

Azul hums and turns away. “You know, the Sea Witch took the Little Mermaid’s voice as the price for gaining legs to be with her prince. The Sea Witch redirected it into her iconic spiral shell, which she later used to take on her own human form to attend the Little Mermaid’s wedding.”

“I remember, we learned this in our very first semester.”

“The Sea Witch, specifically, used a cauldron as the middleman– a more complicated form of avoiding blot before magestones were widespread– while prompting the Little Mermaid by saying ‘Now sing!’ and ‘Keep singing!”

The red-haired boy frowned, lost. Was Azul comparing him to the Sea Witch?

“I noticed in my first month here that the land lacked a few details of the story; the Mermaid Princess was hesitant to sign, so the Sea Witch sang a song of her most benevolent deeds. It spawned a rather popular saying under the sea– the song goes by the same title.” He shrugs. “It is a little prejudiced towards humans. I suppose that may be why it can’t be found on land.”

“Prejudiced? Humans and merfolk didn’t have a relationship during her time, how bad can it be?”

Azul hums a tune, enunciating the hums where words would be. He closes his eyes, face morphing with the mood of the song. “...No more talking, singing, zip…”

And well, Riddle certainly gets his wish. When Azul’s eyes snap back open, he sings with his whole heart, uniquely irritating and handsome smug face making Riddle’s stomach preform professional gymnastics.

“You'll have your looks, your pretty face– and don't underestimate the importance of body language, ha!” He throws his head back for the laugh, which makes his smooth voice raspy and strained and Riddle is left grasping for some sort of word to describe… anything it makes him feel.

“The men up there don't like a lot of blabber; they think a girl who gossips is a bore!”

“Yet, on land it's much preferred for ladies not to say a word, and after all, dear, what is idle prattle for?”

“Come on! they're not all that impressed with conversation, true gentlemen avoid it when they can,”

“But they dote and swoon and fawn on a lady who's withdrawn– It's she who holds her tongue who gets a man!”

“Come on, you poor unfortunate soul~!” Azul trails off, now fully facing Riddle, eyebrow raised. He chuckles. “Is that good enough? Or do I need more practice?”

“Mmnh??” Riddle blinks.

Azul chuckles again. Everything feels so floaty and warm and tingly. Like it was.. a dream? It’s the redhead’s turn to turn away now.

“Well… prejudiced is one way to put it…”

“To be fair, the only exposure to humans at the time was their shipwrecks and occasional overfishing. There are debates whether the rumor that King Triton lost his wife to humans is true or not..”

“There are debates?”

“Of course there are! We are as civilized as a society as landfolk. Would you believe it is quite a popular debate under the sea whether the Sea Witch was a squid or an octopus?If you look at the statue on the main road… you’ll see that she has six arms, not eight. She’s a squid! And anyone who tries to claim she has eight arms by counting her upper arms clearly doesn’t understand that these arms–” He gestures to his shoulders, a rather intense look on his face. “Are different from these arms!” He then gestures at his legs, clearly talking about his other form’s appendages.

“Arms?”

“Arms are the correct terminology. Octopi don’t have tentacles.”

“Interesting. Tell me more.”

“Tell you–!? Hmph, who do you think you are, asking me for something without anything to exchange?”

Riddle briefly thinks back to Azul’s tactics, innocently batting his eyelashes.

“Your boyfriend?”

— Chat —

At a booth at the very back of Mostro Lounge, three housewardens sat together, papers strewn about and falling to the floor periodically. More often than usual, with Kalim getting restless, jiggling his leg and trying to spin his pen in his hands instead of writing notes.

Riddle gets up from his seat– it’s his turn to block Kalim from getting up and running about. He almost bolts out, giggling and hopping and doing a cartwheel of all things, thankfully, at the back, there wasn’t much furniture to knock into. Riddle and Azul share a look.

Unlike Floyd, Azul did not have any idea how to maneuver Kalim’s motivation. The best the heir’s tutors could do was let him go and run around and dance when he pleased and listen to whatever story he had on his mind.

“Y'know, last night I had a dream about the time I was held hostage by this professional underground ring with like ten other kids and Jamil and they were making us use our unique magic and I watched this girl’s eye get pulled out, which is weird, because I only get that dream when I'm feeling—”

..Which usually meant they’d have to hear the most concerning of tales brushed off like a funny story.

“Hm~ Kalim, how about you let one of us share a story this time?” Riddle gives Azul another look.

“Oh, sure! Since you’re from the sea, I bet you have lots of cool stories.”

Azul, with his chin resting on his hands, looks like he’s been put on the spot. “I was actually hoping for… him, you know what? Sure.”

“Did you know that under the sea, certain colors are quite hard to make out? I’d barely seen any semblance of the color red in my life– it was one of the reasons the Little Mermaid was so popular, despite having six other sisters before her. My only exposure to red was Prince Rielle’s hair, a recessive trait of the royal family that crops up every few generations…” His eye twitches at the mention of the prince.

Kallim falls to the floor rump-first with a rather heavy thump for how lightweight he is, scooting until hes at eyeline with the table. “Seeing Heartslabyul and Scarabia must have been a real big shock!”

“That’s right… I couldn’t tell between the two dorms at first. Land camp did it’s best to prepare us… hah, all three of us were very surprised to see Riddle, and even upperclassman Cater, to say the least. Even Rielle’s few shades darker yours– I’m sure you remember Floyd’s reaction quite well.” Riddle scowls. He’s been enjoying these mostly Floyd-free days very much, but is also highly interested in more merfolk lore from Azul’s point of view.

A day where he felt such interest in anyone from Octavinelle? Maybe Azul had casted him with some sort of underlying spell for his plans to go smoothly.

“I belive the hair and the fact you literally turn red may also be part of the reason Floyd is so taken by you as a source of entertainment.”

Kalim looks thoughtful for once, sitting criss-cross on the floor. “Huh, why has no one questioned why we all have super weird hair colors??”

Riddle and Azul blink, knowing this was basic elementary school information. Even Deuce knew of this… hopefully. He’d review that later.

“It’s the magic in our blood,” Riddle replies. “It affects the pigment of our hair and makes mages more susceptible to skin conditions revolving pigmentation as well.”

“Ohh..” Kalim stops walking in place and actually looks “And you’re like, super strong, so your hair is suuuper bright… is that why our eyes are weird colors too?”

“I’m… not sure how to answer that first part.”

“Yes, Kalim.”

— Chat —

“Ugh… can you not bleed so much of that energy? You’re blinding me.” Idia whines, messing up Azul’s die roll. Azul scowls, watching himself get a one.

“You are the one who should be happy. This is your game.” He pushes up his glasses with his fingers as he retorts. Their board game is supposed to be Clue: The Classic Mystery Game with various different variations of Idia’s oh-so-adored Miss Hatsune Miku, but the board’s so stylized he can barely recognize it.

“I can’t be when– you– ughhh—” Idia haphazardly waves around his arms to emphasize absolutely nothing. “I get it, Heartslabyul’s SSR tier and you bagged THE…”

Idia’s voice fades into the distance. It doesn’t help that he’s holding the die hostage, meaning they won’t advance until he’s done with his little tangent. Lucky for Azul, he dropped a very interesting tidbit…

“You’re jealous.”

“EH!?”

“You’re jealous of me.” Azul repeats himself; the very simple notion puts him on a pedestal that would probably break his much-needed legs if he fell from it.

“SSR tier’? You’re rating the entire dorm so high? You must have someone of your own in there on your sights… hmm… Trey perhaps, have you tried his confectionaries yet? I certainly—”

“I– I mean, you’ve seen them, yeah? You’ve got Deuce, who’s a living shounen protag in his training arc– or even the MC’s sidekick with Ace and Yuu, like in the Bokemon anime, and yes actually, he gave me a little jar of homemade sweets once…and a cupcake, this one time… but I’m not jealous. It’s just nnn– natural power scaling!!”

In his new tangent, Idia finally drops the die, blue ends tuning pink the more he talks. Azul takes over his game partner’s turn and then takes his, wondering how long he was going to have to do this as their three other players took their turns.

“Then… Cater? I’m sure you’d get along swell.”

Idia emits a shrill shriek and earns glares from almost everyone around the clubroom. He flips his hood up too late to obscure the entire head of pink hair, talking a mile a minute.

“N– NOOOO. NONONONONOOO– I– It’s not like he caught me reading the Light Movies Anthology wiki in class and made the insane lore drop that he’s been following the series since the f– fiiiirst game and he has the collector’s edition pieces that are only available to the Shaftlands and his personal ranking of the games and invited me to play or even borrow his game s– so I wouldn’t have to waste money, or asked me if I was spoiler free beforehand or what letsplayers to avoid and—”

Azul’s upperclassman gasped a big gulp of air like a fish out of water. He was pretty sure Idia’s eyes rolled over from the effort.

Speaking of Cater, he was the one who had bought Riddle’s clothes for his date.

And speaking of Riddle, he was… beginning to look at Azul very oddly. He would have assumed Riddle was getting sick of him, but it was more like Riddle wanted to eat him. His slate eyes intense and seemingly searching for a way to see even underneath his skin. His endless inquiries and blatant demands, and his absolutely not at all subtle quick glances when he thought he wasn't looking.

He wanted to be noticed, acknowledged, but this was not the acknowledgment he desired. He wanted to earn it fair and square, to beat Riddle and dethrone him– make the little queen kneel at his feet and rub it in his face!

“A– a– a– anyyywayyys…” Idia coughed. “Your turn, Azul, hello?? Don’t go afk on us.”

— — —

On a nice, Thursday afternoon, Azul actually feels like taking a nice nap near a window– he’s not immune to such desires. Unfortunately, the Seven, and the Leech twins, have other plans.

Extreme other plans.

“Yoink!” Floyd, with ease, sneak assaults Azul and grabs him by the waist. “Azul, you’re so slim now! But so easy to carry~”

And in a most humiliating manner, Floyd drags him by the waist down multiple Octavinelle halls, working with Jade to keep his fists away from hitting them. And then they ascend stairs– stairs, in Octavinelle? There’s only one place with stairs in this dorm.

As the entire structure was not only compressed into its own dimension in the mirror, but also underwater– there weren’t any doors that went outside, exactly– but there was a door, built like a submarine door, blocked off by its horrifying number of stairs. It led to a grotto that had once been fully submerged on Sage Island.

He and Floyd tumble to the ground when Jade takes the lead. Beyond Floyd still tussling with Azul to avoid his fists and snatching his glasses as an extra distraction, he hears the shriek of metal scraping, and then the sound of waves.

“Floyd, Jade, if you force me into that water, I’m squeezing you so hard your stomachs are coming out of your mouths!” He seethes. Neither give a damn and pull him across the grotto’s rocky bottom and, inevitably, the shallows. His scarf gets caught on a particularly rough patch and gets claimed as a prize.

Splash, splish, splash.

Determined to avoid his other form, Azul takes a deep, deep breath and holds it as both eels reach a depth they can swim and dunk him– he naturally has a larger lung capacity than others, improved by his recent singing extracurricular. A figure comes to his mind’s eye. Would a certain someone not also have a great lung capacity, with all that incessant shouting..?

The briefest of images flashes through his mind, making him lose his precious air in a scandalized gasp and no choice but to change into a form that won’t drown and isn’t weighed down by soppy clothing. His legs begin to tingle, then grow numb. He closes his eyes before he can see what emerges from the glow that emits beyond his waist.

Arms– eight of them– unctuously curl around the nearest surfaces as he refuses to move. Partly because he just doesn’t want to look at them and because he can’t make sense of what he just envisioned.

“‘Zul?”

“Azul?”

If Azul wasn’t completely out of it, he would have questioned the look of pure dizzying amusem*nt Jade wore, but he was not. At least, not wholly.

Two arms drift up and catch the two eels off-guard, wrapping around their entire upper bodies to smash their heads together. Both twins let out their cries (mewl, in Jade’s case) of pain, suffering along with Azul when he refuses to let go and squeezes them tighter.

“Azul.” Jade calmly tries the path of reason, face neutral. “I did eat a rather large lunch only thirty minutes earlier. If you squeeze me so hard my stomach comes out, I’m afraid you will bring that up, too.

“AZUUUUULLLL. THIS! ISN’T! FUN!” Floyd tries his best to thrash and bite at the arm, to no effect. While his teeth have sharpened with age, so has the thickness of Azul’s protective layers. “LEMMEEE GOOOOOO!”

After a few good minutes and Jade is really worried he’s really going to bring up his lunch, they’re slowly released. Floyd sighs and drifts down to the floor.

Azul briefly looks down at himself and adverts his eyes, choosing to glare daggers at the brothers. “What do you think you’re doing, bringing me down here?”

“We are here,”

“So we can go rock hunting!”

“Rock hunting!?” Azul grits his teeth, arms curling and coiling into tight little balls in his agitation. “Are you forgetting that this relationship is fake?”

“Is it?” Jade puts his first near his mouth in thought.

“It. Is.”

“Fiiiine~ then let’s just go for a swim!”

“Wait,” He grumbles, edging closer to the land before a teal clawed hand can reach out. “Where are my glasses?”

“I left ’em on the dooor– come on, let's go!”

Somehow, Azul finds himself, even at his horrifically sluggish pace, swimming deeper and deeper into the water, following Jade and Floyd.

It was so reminiscent of his life before Night Raven College. It’s sickening.

But he doesn’t swim back to shore.

“Heeyy, ‘zul.” Floyd pops out from a cluster of seaweed, holding one in between his claws. “Have you noticed how Clownfishie’s hair is like two lil pieces of seaweed?”

“Huh?”

“It jumps and curls up and disappears sometimes, don’t tell me I know your clownfish better than you do.”

“It points at things, too; like beastman ears.” Jade briefly casts a shadow over the both of them as he swims past. “As far as I know, the only people that have ‘living’ hair are bird beastmen. They’re also the ones with the brightest hair.”

“...You said it disappears?”

“Mhm~ when he wanted to hide from me once, his little heart disappeared into the rest of his head. So cute, Clownfish looks so goofy without ‘em.”

He stops and crosses his arms. They’d been swimming in one direction for a while now, but with the way the twins swam, he knew they had a destination in mind.

Floyd grabs more seaweed and wraps it around their necks. “We’re almost there, ‘zul.”

“By the way Floyd, it’s not often you change someone’s nickname.”

Floyd jabs a claw at one of Azul’s arms, causing it to twitch and writhe where he floats. “Riddle is Clownfish because he’s gonna end up tangled up in these like a little clownfish sooner or later.”

Azul freezes up, unpleasant imagery reappearing in his head. A wordless sound of embarrassment escapes his throat, carried away by the calm waves while he runs a hand through his hair.

Enough is enough. He turns back and heads for NRC.

“Wait wait wait, Azullll, nooooo. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean iiit…” Floyd catches up to Azul in no time, grabbing as many arms as he can to hinder his already slow pace. Azul grunts and stirs the water as he tries to wrestle him off.

Eventually, Azul allows himself to be guided again, linking his arms with Jade and Floyd’s sleek arms the best he can for the rest of the way. Most of the water around Sage Island was sadly devoid of much but sand, interspersed by clumps of seaweed and other marine life. Sometimes Floyd derails, thinking he saw the flash of scales of another creature. His shoulder is sore by the third time.

“Back to Clownfishie… do you think you could–”

“No.”

“UGH.”

Floyd picks up his pace, clearly grumpy. His mood as a whole had been terminally low from underexposure to Riddle– mentioning he was collateral to the deal could ruin whatever high mood he was in in record time.

Azul believed he could sympathize. It fills his chest with an uncomfortably warm sensation.

No, he was simply used to his presence. He’d feel the same way if he were physically barred from speaking to Jade or Floyd.

“Must we keep talking about Riddle?”

“Oh yes. We must.” Jade giggled. With one powerful swish of his tail, he pulls ahead of his brother. “Floyd brought up something a few days ago that I found quite interesting; he has a very… old fashioned form of speech. Once, when the Headmage burst in during a surprise visit, he exclaimed ‘Egads!’”

“Eccentric.”

Jade’s eyes widened in genuine surprise, but his head continued to face forwards. “Say that again?”

Azul swallows thickly, realizing he had just interjected.

“No.”

“Hm, must have been the current,” Jade muses, knowing full well there was not current to speak of. “As I was saying. I actually find all these expressions of surprise quite intriguing! Down here, no one really gets surprised… we’re all too aware of our surroundings. There’s a student three seats to my right in History of Magic that hiccups when Professor Trein calls on him. He’d make the most delightful of bubbles if he were underwater.”

“Now, Riddle, I’m sure you’ve noticed, makes this little sound when he is surprised, with those little ‘antennae’ of his standing on–”

“Look, loook. We’re here.”

Azul tries to poke his head up to the surface, but the sun stings his eyes in a way only his merfolk form experiences. “Where exactly are we?”

“RSA’s shores. Many rumors suggest that the third years of their corresponding underwater dorm throw things into the sea for good luck before their internships. Personal jewelry, a lot of glass– it makes for quite the treasure hunt.”

Floyd shakes Azul off, tensing his muscles and coiling his tail.

“Floyd!” Multiple arms wrap around that tail and the eel’s shoulders, just short of tackling him. “Not this again– you’re not built for this!”

“Are we sure? The last time he beached himself was a little fu–”

Whack!

Another thick arm slaps the other eel on his back. The message comes across.

“Come on~! It’s just some tide pools!”

With his brother half-heartedly keeping him at bay, Azul has the chance to surface again. Squinting his eyes and shielding them with a hand the best he can, he can take in the glistening silhouette of RSA’s main building. Slimy arms glide through rocky tide pools without a problem like the worst of snails, periodically splashing the lines on his waist to keep them moist. Somewhere, behind those opalescent walls, walked Rielle.

With a huff, he crawls his way back underwater where Jade and Floyd are gone from the scene.

Azul feels some of his suckers gripping onto something as he pulls himself further across the sandy floor underwater. Lifting it up to his line of sight, Azul can see that it is a small little crab. Spindly limbs and pincers pinch and push uselessly at his thick purple flesh– it’s so small it’s barely worth eating.

So small. So… insignificant.

Azul pries the poor unfortunate crustacean off his suckers and into his hands, turning it so its back is facing him.

His teeth are stronger in his natural form, differently shaped like a octopus beak. The crab’s shell snaps cleanly in two, giving way for him to suck out the meat. The tiny little morsel is a delectable little treat, shaken free by a sudden bump to the shoulder by Floyd holding whatever he’s scrounged from RSA’s shores.

The crab is now practically empty, save for a few precious shreds of meat– valuable, precious shreds of meat that immediately disappear behind the teeth of one Jade Leech. Azul cries out and grabs Jade to squeeze him and push him into the sand.

“What is your problem!?” He whines. “That was mine!”

All Jade does is grin and lick his mottled teal lips.

After a bit more whining on Azul’s part, he lets go and follows the curve of the shore, pout on his lips. No one follows, thank the Seven.

He can already see small bits of sea glass only the size of his fingernails on the shore, so light that they’re kicked upwards when he swims by. He swims half a lap and swims back, then swims back again. It’s not his intention to find anything of worth, especially not for a relationship that’s fake.

Especially not for Riddle.

Still, he pulls a worn silver ring from where it’s wedged in between two rocks, whatever gem it held gone. There’s a fragile gold chain that falls apart when he pulls it from the sand and a rather recent-looking watch that is beginning to show signs of rust.

He has to dig his fingers into one of his suckers to pull out a round, dark-colored piece of sea glass that was clearly once a jumbo marble lodged in it. It hurts. And his fingers are only making it worse.

A hiccup escapes his throat. He’s going to cry over a stupid marble that is somehow the perfect size to fit into his sucker and not allow space for anything else. Why did he commit to swimming all this way?

He, of course, is being overdramatic. It’s just a marble– that’s what he tells himself as the tears start flowing. You could barely tell when most merfolk cried, tears no different from the water that surrounds them; but his were dark, thick and disgusting. The marble pops out before he starts actually crying.

He crushes the bit of sea glass in his fist until it cracks and falls apart. Sniffling aggressively, Azul then finds a dark spot and uses his arms to move the sand until there’s an appropriate sized dip. There, with his arms crossed and shoulders hunched, he sulks.

He’s not sure how long he’s there for, and he can’t fathom where this growing pile of empty mussels is coming from, but it’s long enough for Floyd to come looking for him.

“Heyyyy Azul, don’t these remind you of Parrotfishie, from land camp?” He exclaims while shoving a string of once painted wooden beads and a garish plastic necklace with an oversized purple gem.

“Those are… the ugliest things in my life.” He mumbles, another mussel shell floating up into the water.

Floyd lets himself drift freely in the water as he looks through his stash and drops scraps as his initial interest with them dies with his change of mood. He hums his own tune while clacking the empty muscles.

“Ya knowww~ they say the Prince fell in love with the Little Mermaid when she sang a song for him…”

“Floyd.”

“Just saying, humans can’t be that different than they were hundreds of years ago.”

“Or perhaps he already did that?”

A long shadow drifts up from above them, holding real treasures– a perfectly round pearl, an engagement ring, and one of those old-fashioned human army dog tags. Azul feels heat crawl into his face, knowing full well he did sing for Riddle. Out of impulse. It was in the nature of merfolk to sing or show off their talents to someone of interest, but that wasn’t his intention, not one bit.

Why did he feel so embarrassed?

His teeth bite down on something hard and decidedly not calcium or remotely brittle. Azul then notices the absurd number of mussels and shells collected by his arms, He’s been stuffing his face the entire time he’s been in this dip, the rock face against his back responsible for housing the mollusks. Simultaneously, they all unstick from his suckers.

Except for the one now in his hand, which isn’t a mussel at all. It’s a rock, slightly transparent in some areas with jagged cuts, rusty wire wrapped around it’s middle. It must have been thrown in only last year.

Jade and Floyd don’t say a word as he holds it up to the light– it’ll look different dry, but maybe he can do something about that. One half is cut like a typical crystal, the other half splitting into various smaller, pointy ends, all polished.

They reminded him of something, slate-gray and multifaceted…

His hands curl around on the rock as gently as he could, careful not to damage it with his strength.

“I’m going back now.” He sighs.

Floyd whines behind his back as he makes his painfully slow return to NRC, though he doesn’t focus on his pace as much on his way back.

Chapter 8: Clause 8

Chapter Text

When Azul wakes up on Saturday and sees his bag packed, he remembers the previous day’s events and feels like crying. The type of ugly cry reserved for himself and his octopus pot.

And he’s torn in two whether to apologize, or simply head out. He has half an hour before he has to meet Riddle at the mirror chamber…

The day after Jade and Floyd’s ‘expedition’ with him, the two hadn't stopped sharing glances, arguments that only the other could read between their eyes.

Coincidentally, they always had to glance at Azul, too. It was, by all means, distressing. Not that he'd ever say it outright, but he could get the point across.

“Jade, Floyd. Out with it– why do you keep looking at me?" He borderline spat out the question, the three of them were alone after closing. It did not help the situation that Floyd hadn't been in the mood to properly work at all.

“We got eyes and you're the boss, kinda hard not to look at you.” Floyd snarks, completely disinterested. He traces the stain of a cup on the table he's leaning against with his index finger.

“You know what I'm talking about!”

Floyd doesn't pout. His lips pinch together and his brows furrow, almost like a baby tasting a lemon… it takes a while for Azul to discern what exactly this emotion is supposed to be.

Floyd is holding something back.

And, may the Sea Witch have mercy on him, Azul feels a tad bit concerned. Jade absolutely notices the utter distress, but doesn't say a word, back to the two while gently wiping down the brand-new cup display.

Floyd grumbles something that sounds awfully like ‘Can't even look at ‘em but he'll stare at me all day, tch.’ catches Azul's eye, and has the audacity to look guilty. Guilty!?

“Azul. What do you feel for Riddle?”

Every muscle in his body tenses, freezes over like the ice from his home. A frightening realization dawns on him.

“Floyd… are you trying to say… you..?”

Bitter, bitter jealousy floods… his entire being, really. But it starts at his gut, like the acid from his stomach has intensified until it burns every nerve in his body. Where is it coming from? Why should he care? Why…

“Azul,” Jade cuts in with his usual melodic, placid voice. “Process this carefully.”

He wheezes the beginning of a phrase, unable to form the proper words. “What. Are you–”

Jade turns and lifts a finger to his lips as a sign to silence him, of all things. Of all things! “No. I am asking you to avoid jumping to conclusions.” The slightest hint of his teeth show in his smile. “My poor brother has been rather distressed these past few weeks, you know.”

“Stressed, nothin! It sucks to watch him pine for a guy he's already got snared!”

“...I'm right here….” Azul croaks. ‘Don't talk like I'm not.’ he begs. At least, he thinks he does. “What are you even talking about then?”

“Floyd…”

Floyd huffs, still metaphorically twiddling his thumbs.

“I don't like Riddle.”

Relief floods his chest for only a minute. But where did the jealousy come from? Under his relief is an ache, flushing his body hot-cold, making his heartbeat thunder in his ears, it feels like it might just kill him. But why, but why, but why, but why–

“Haah…” Jade sighs. A square of exquisite plum fabric dabs at the corner of his eye– one of the silks, freshly tailored for their cup display and other things. Jade’s holding it up to his face.

“But you do.” Floyd finishes.

He crushes the makeshift handkerchief in his now tightened fist. Tight enough to break his own bones.

Azul wonders, realizes, takes note of all the signs that had been there since the beginning, since the Unbirthday party. The butterflies, the ‘admiration’, the hammering of his heart whenever the other housewarden drew close. The desire to be the one pulling him close and making him puff his cheeks and watching his bottom lip jut out in a pout…

No. He does not like Riddle. This… feeling, is a new crawling sense of envy. It has to be. Jealousy is white-hot and acidic and painful. Envy is… this.

“...You want to know what I really feel for Riddle?” He utters. Floyd’s face contorts further, sensing nothing good to come like blood in the water.

“I’m jealous. Envious! It’s not fair, how he gets to be at the very top and whenever someone says something about it, he acts like its no big deal or worse– he gets all high and mighty! He truly thinks himself a queen, thinks he’s perfect! And he is and it’s not fair… I drag myself up from the depths of the trenches only to get upstaged by a boy my grade! My! Grade! I’ll never be valedictorian;I’ll never get top one when he’s around! If he were an upperclassman, I could at least wait until they graduated!”

Floyd withers and wilts in a palpable energy of discomfort. Azul can’t bear to look at him directly, nor at Jade, who masks his disappointment much better than his twin. He turns tail and leaves the building. “I have to go pack, if you’ll excuse me.”

Worse, only just off his dip in mood, when he has to go practice dance with the object of his envy, because this is their last day. The next will be spent in a downgraded hotel room with Riddle, and then the party itself, and another night…

Out in the moonlight, Riddle’s face was just so perfect. The night air brought red to his cheeks, complementing the crimson eyeshadow and his tantalizingly peachy pink lips. Azul’s hands caught slightly on the yellow and black sash the shorter boy wore as a belt as they left his waist.

As he leaned back,and Riddle’s face drew closer– so close that their noses were about to brush against each other– Azul thought he could smell the scent of lemonade and honey on his breath. It was the oddest thing, considering it was over an hour since he should have… have…

Ah. He thought lazily, holding the dip position. Isn’t it past curfew..?

Riddle was so, so close, so close that their noses really did brush against each other,and their warm breaths mingled. His face was now obscured in shadow, but he could see just enough to see Riddle’s nearly black eyes behind half-closed lids. Framed by… ruby… no, maroon, eyelashes. The boy’s irises themselves were charcoal-like in quality, just as soft.

It’s as if time itself stops for them.

And then Azul becomes hyper aware of just how close they were, and the hand that was just about to cup Riddle’s cheek. Riddle catches up just as fast, those charcoal-soft eyes snapping wide and comically large in shock. He tries to jump back from his bent position and Riddle tries to do the same, stepping on their overlapping clothes and plummeting to the ground.

Riddle yelps as he lands knees and hands first, one hand landing uncomfortably close to Azul’s ear. He’s not just leaning over him, but literally lording above him, with Azul’s back pressed against the dirt. A knot makes its tight debut in his very dry throat as he stares up at the redhead, newfound sense of envy flaring up again. Why would he feel envious here?

“S– sorry, I’m sorry!” Riddle shrieks, and Azul is pretty sure he does the same thing. His face is as hot as Riddle’s is flushed. Riddle’s butt hits the ground when he pulls away, the momentum accentuated by his panic. Azul scrambles backwardslike some sort of f*cked up spider.

“No, no need for apologies! I got distracted. I– I realized it was past your curfew.”

Riddle gasps, up to his feet and dusting off the skirt-like ends of his suit jacket. “It is? I’ll see you tomorrow then. Have a good night.”

…He thinks he can almost hear disappointment in his voice.

No, no. Of course not.

He can hear the phantom of Floyd’s voice as he watches Riddle’s form become smaller and smaller as he runs away, away, away. To his dorm, where he belongs.

‘But you do, but you do.’

Azul exhales softly as a single tear falls down his face. He absolutely cannot cry today. He gets dressed in under two minutes, slings his rather large bag and the magically compressed bags with their formal wear over his shoulder, and heads out to the mirror chamber. He’d already cleared the both of them for their weekend absence and gained permission to use the Dark Mirror for travel from day one.

Riddle is waiting for him, as expected at this point. He has a singular bag packed as well, obviously borrowed. Its corners are worn and fraying with a bundle of charms attached to one of its zippers, telltale red rhombuses spread throughout.

Riddle greets him with a slight smile.

They don’t even exchange words as Azul gives the Dark Mirror their destination– the main street of the town.

The way Riddle lights up, eyes sparkling as he takes in the early morning view of the town. He’s glowing with excitement.

Azul decides he… greatly dislikes… the terrible blooming feeling inside him.

“Our hotel is only a twenty-minute walk from here, fifteen without the foot traffic.” He says. For some unknown reason, he reaches out a hand and Riddle takes it. It’s a gentle hold, their two hands clasped together as they walk down the waking streets.

The hotel is tasteful, stained oak supports frame the doors. The interior is the same dark stained oak and cream walls with a warm undertone he’s grown to appreciate since coming to land. Compared to the quiet cobblestone paths, the inside is quite lively. On instinct, Azul gently tugs Riddle from bumping into someone pacing out of the building, a crease in between their sharp pencil brows and a phone on speaker mode held against their ear.

The wait is agonizing, even though they have a whole day to wait for the ball. There’s only one poor receptionist, one that has a moderately thick accent that some guests struggle to decipher.

When it’s their turn, Riddle automatically switches to that language Azul’s only heard in passing, half slipping away from his hold. His face warms, realizing they’d been holding hands up until now, the entire wait in line…

The receptionist brightens significantly hearing a language they can be better understood in. (He swears he hears them exclaim ‘lalalalala’ in a very relived tone.) Their… conversation seems very long winded and fast-paced, but both seem to be having a grand time for being a mere receptionist and hotel guest. Riddle especially, his... voice bleeds how eager and excited he is for this event…Azul honestly wasn’t expecting it. The woman behind them coughs, absurd number of beaded bracelets on her wrists clicking together.

…He misses Kalim a little.

The receptionist gasps, going ‘lalalalala’ twice (The second time with a waving hand gesture.) and quickly passing Riddle two old-fashioned keys with number tags attached to them.

“...What was that?” Azul asks once they’re out of line.

“Hm? New Wunder. It’s very complicated– and actually originated from the attempt to fuse the original Kingdom language with Old Wunder, only, almost every other year new dictionaries for Old Wunder would come with new versions of spelling, so it was only a matter of time before New Wunder received the same treatment. Over time, it became more and more complicated, including hand gestures–”

“Number Seven-teen.” The receptionist claims in the background while passing the woman and her man their room keys. Azul’s blood goes cold, then hot with indignation.

The way the hotel was organized, the smaller the number, the more luxurious it was. In his previous emails, he’d been given room number seventeen. That meant one of those people were the ones who had upstaged him…

“What’re you staring at?” The man huffs, dressed a little like Leona. A dress shirt without the wrinkles of sleep and no orange vest, sleeves rolled up to the sleeves. His form is a little like the upperclassman's, as well.

…Uh Oh. Azul had been staring, and not in a very friendly manner.

And he’s not in the mood to play nice.

“.....You…..”

“Azul??” Riddle whispers, frantically clinging to one of his arms. In another universe, another Azul notices how funny of a parallel it is, with the woman and her beaded bracelets doing the same.

“You took number seventeen from me!”

The man looks at him like he’s crazy, Then, realization hits and he smiles like he stole candy from a baby.

“Ahaha– you’re the one who had room seventeen? Small fry, sometimes you have to subscribe to the grind instead of relying on daddy’s money. This ain’t some college party.”

Azul’s frown twisted into an outright scowl. Did this man really have any idea what the implications of being called a small fry really meant? Humans could be so mysterious with their sayings… ‘grind’ ‘daddy’s money’? His stepfather made less than his mother did.

“Ohh, honey, oh sweetie! Don’t bully them, you’re having beef with a little boy.” Beaded Bracelets giggles, tossing her head back in exaggerated glee. The idea they’re under the same type of deal Azul and Riddle are is as subtle as a punch to the face.

Azul feels the impulse to roll his sleeves up. “This ‘small fry’ could take you on easily.” There’s a grin that splits his face while he says so, and Riddle squeaks in outrage while weakly tugging his arm and swearing to The Queen of Hearts

“Azul, it is against the law to use magic on laypeople!”

“Oh, don’t worry, no magic would be involved– my arms are plenty strong on their own!” He hums, adjusting the straps of his bags over his shoulder. On the mention of magic, the man clicks his tongue and pulls his supposed girlfriend to face the receptionist desk with a ‘Magic users… don’t bother, babe.’. It’s over disappointingly fast. And they’re really laying it on thick.

Another employee comes by with a luggage cart, relieving them of their bags and Azul, still bitter about the loss of his original room, refuses to look at their room yet. It doesn’t dampen Riddle’s enthusiasm one bit.

When they leave the hotel, the town is livelier, full of both locals and visitors bustling on the traditional cobblestone pathways. It’s similar to the City of Flowers, locals both taking advantage of the influx of people to sell and judge them. Banners of the supposed Princess with the Glass Shoe, paired with the Kingdom flag, are hung and draped over every surface, stalls and stores lined with glasswork. Some are genuine works of art, and others are infused with magic to keep them from breaking and mimic real shoes.

The tourists tend to stop and gawk and put all their grabby mitts over these things, disrespectfully commenting on every little thing and hadn’t the tact to disguise their real purpose for visiting. He’s pretty sure he catches sight of a couple Magicam Monsters around, which they steer clear of.

It really, really helps that Riddle seems to be fluent in two languages used among them. He greets passers-by and excuses himself when it comes to pushing, even if gentle. At some points, he gives a couple of loudly chattering locals of look that makes them shrink with embarrassment.

The envy rears its big ugly head again, watching Riddle smile and giggle to himself as he observes everything on display, while Azul simply follows closely behind like some sort of chaperone.

Riddle’s eyes crinkle at the edges and twinkle and shimmer and shine when they pass by a boutique, a blue dress on display; a modern version of the dress the Princess wore.

“Most caricatures depict the Princess with blonde hair, blue eyes, a headband, her glass shoes and a blue or white dress.” Riddle states factually. “Recounts of the original ball can’t seem to decide.”

“But the dress and shoes were salvaged, were they not? They’re blue– or it was a matter of lighting. In the spotlight, the dress was white, in the shadow, the dress was blue.”

“It’s not as easy as that! They were only used once, and when the Prince found his beloved, they were stored in a special closet because the fabric and glass were sensitive. The lack of light may have affected the magic imbued and changed the original color.”

“I see. So is the popular, pale, dusty blue a compromise?”

Riddle smiles at him and nods, causing warmth to bloom in his chest. “Yes! Now, thanks to modern magic and technology, the dress is no longer under threat of further damage at a museum on the other side of the Queendom.”

“In a museum on the other side of the Queendom? Why would it be there?”

“I’m… not sure. It’s, specifically, in our National Museum, though I suppose it would fit better here.” He spares one last look at the dress on display, placing a hand on the glass, and begins to move on. “I’ve heard Ace and Deuce talk about a museum under the sea..?”

“Ah, yes, the Atlantica Memorial Museum… it’s our only museum, really. Any other ones are local and not recognized as real museums.”

“I couldn’t find a definitive map on the Coral Sea…”

“Our relations aren’t that good with the land! The Coral Sea is smaller than any country here, so only one museum is really required.”

Riddle stops in place, and Azul bumps into his shoulder, bumping into another person and that person bumping into yet another person. Azul apologizes weakly, taken by the scent in the air. Bread. Not just bread, something heavenly, something sweet. It wafts through the air and hooks in all of those passing by.

An older man pokes his head out of the bakery door and rings a bell. “We are no longer handing out our pumpkin samples, thank you!”

Disappointment hits the both of them hard. The air just smells so good, but the line is too long to guarantee even a slice of pumpkin bread, if the popularity is anything to go by. It’s only ten am…

Azul spots a water fountain that’s not too crowded, and better yet, multiple signs declaring that it was alright to sit not just at the benches, but the lip of the fountain. He settled comfortably into one of the empty benches.

Riddle takes this as a queue to start talking again.

“Did you know only the fall of the Kingdom of Ashes precedes the time the Queen of Hearts ruled by one year? It’s said that the techniques that the Kingdom used for their designs added that extra hint of whimsy. The Kingdom of Ashes’ reign was very short, but impactful.

Their signature only became dresses after the Princess was married, because she was a seamstress. Although she was aided by someone with magic– possibly a fae– the dress she wore to the ball was her design. After she was wed, she didn’t stop, and it inspired people of all classes to pursue dressmaking, the majority of them less fortunate women! They advanced modern dresses in such a short time.

For a while after most of the less fortunate refugees immigrated to the Queendom and the more fortunate to the Shaftlands, a prejudice was formed, and people began to consider anything produced by the Queendom as a whole as ‘less’, even the prized roses! But The Queen of Hearts is a just woman… she didn’t back down from the hit her arciaplegoes’ reputation took; that’s where we earned the title ‘sister country’.” He sighs, the admiration clear in his tone. Fondly, the redhead traced the edge of the water fountain before taking a seat, crossing his legs. “The Shaflands inherited the language, but we inherited the arts.”

At their positions, Riddle is slightly taller than Azul. Slightly looking down on him.
Something hot invades his face and stomach, and he has to fight the urge to bend over in agony at the feeling. (It’s the jealousy, the envy, the resentment–)

Azul can only hear his heartbeat, Riddle’s voice distant as he mentions something about the fountain and another tale about an unruly orphan girl, her kindly, gracious stepmother, and her stepsisters, similar to the Princess with the Glass Shoe.

He watches the shorter boy glow as he talks animatedly. So bright, smile so tender.

And too distracted to notice he’s slipping backward.

Azul shoots up faster than he thought he could, leaning awkwardly and planting a hand on Riddle’s lower back, the other one grabbing his wrist. It’s so small Azul’s fingers overlap when he holds on—

Riddle squeaks in surprise, bright red antenna at the top of his head shooting up to stand at their full height. In less than 24 hours, their faces have been less than three inches apart from each other twice.

He can feel the eyes of the people around them burning them. It causes his hands to nearly let go of the other boy and drop him into the running water, making this embarrassing effort for nothing.

“A– ahh… thankyou–” Riddle mumbles, as red as a tomato. Azul eases him back to the ground with an incoherent you’rewelcome, and they stand there in silence.

A woman with beads in her hair leans into a man who looks like a mirror image of herself not at inconspicuously, a hand cupped over her mouth and his ear.

“You know, I heard that the Princess’ sister met a man at a water fountain like this.”

A man in a daisy-patterned beanie tries to blend in, voice not at all lowered as he speaks into his phone.

“Dude, I think I just saw…”

A little girl in pigtails and a powder blue dress gasps and points directly at them.

“Momma, that man is blue! Is he choking?”

With a weak, strangled sound that was meant to be a ‘let’s go’ he takes Riddle by the hand again. They follow the path and throng of people until they’re a good ways away fro the fountain, where he lets go. (Reluctance stings his heart when they do.)

“Thank you, again. And Sorry– I got carried away.” Riddle sighs. One hand plays with the cuff of his sleeve, even with his head ducked, Azul can tell he’s pouting.

He huffs out a small laugh and places a hand above his chest, shaking his head. “Don’t worry a bit about it! It’s quite refreshing to listen to you talk so enthusiastically about something you’re clearly passionate about. Watching you this whole trip has been rather entertaining, really– I’d be completely open about doing this another time.”

Riddle looks up at him surprised, gradually turning pink. Azul can feel his ears burn as he reconsiders his own words.

We’re barely half a day in and I’m already requesting a second outing!? He shrieks internally. Externally, he is still holding the hand to his chest in earnest, smiling a little stiffly, perhaps. What am I doing!??

“Oh! Well– ah, hah… thank you…”

The redhead turns around, and Azul swears that he giggles. At him? At him, yes. Azul’s not sure how it makes him feel anymore. The exhaustion of tourism is beginning to weigh on him, it was probably time for them to turn in soon, and actually get their room situation sorted out…

“Hey, Azul..” Riddle cuts his line of thought, sounding a little anxious this time. “Did you bring any makeup?”

Running through his

…he took what he had out of his bathroom cabinet and left it out on the counter. Or did he pack it? His brain is failing him.

“I’m… not sure.”

“I completely forgot.” Riddle’s tone perfectly illustrates the disappointment they feel in themselves.

However, across the street, lays their savior. What Riddle’s eyes caught onto was a store.

They’re not at all surprised to see Vil’s face on one of the posters, he looks stunning as usual; posed with a thumb swiping at the edge of his dark matte ombre lips. On the opposite window of the store is the poster of a fair boy with short black hair, grinning and showing off the rosy pink eyeshadow and blush.

“They have range…” He stores away that advertisem*nt idea for later personal use.

Clearly the others attending remembered to bring their supplies with them, because there are only five other customers, and most importantly, they have consultants to spare.

“So, here’s the deal,” Azul tells his consultant. Riddle’s already gone on his own, showing them something on his phone. “The color of what I’m wearing…”

— — —

When they leave the store with small bags in one of their hands each, most people have dispersed. Their brains tell them it’s only three quarters past one, but the sky is streaked orange and yellow and pink, like a nice fall evening.

Their stomachs growl at the same time.

They skip out on the quaint restaurants on the way back to the hotel, already full of patrons. Instead, they buy from a sandwich shop that leaves Azul with the nostalgic urge to lick his fingers after finishing his food. The bread on its own was sublime– he’d ordered it toasted– crunchy and full of flavor. Bread was always so diverse…

Ping.

Even as the elevator reached their floor, Azul continued to think about bread. Even as Riddle pulled out their old-fashioned key and unlocked the door, he thought about bread. Even as they both made sure their bags were delivered, he thought about bread.

There was only one bed.

Even as he entered the elevator to ask for a cot, Azul thought about bread. Even as he was told ‘no, we ran out of cots, our apologies’ he thought about bread. Even as he gave Riddle the news, the back of his mind thought about the time Kalim practically shoved a piece of naan in his mouth in their first year when he’d simply asked what he was eating. He’d eaten it in private.

“It’s fine, I can sleep on the floor.” is met with the stomp of the shorter boy’s foot and “Absolutely not! You’ll be sore!”

That’s right. Another thing he learned when he received legs was that human bodies could get sore if they lasted in the wrong position for even a smidgen too long. In his real form, unrestricted by the potion, Azul could bend and contort himself as he pleased with little worry. The bones of his upper body were squishier than most.

“I don’t see it as something so grave, we’ve slept together before?”

Azul swallows and pushes his glasses up. “Please… don’t phrase it like that. I wasn’t even aware that I fell asleep that time.”

Riddle blinks cluelessly. “And?”

And so, Azul concedes. Their schedules align; it seems that Riddle prefers to shower in the mornings, while Azul before bed. In the bathroom, as he covers the mirror with a towel and the tub fills with cold water and as he spreads out his toiletries, he confirms he forgot to pack his makeup.

Realistically, all these expenses should have delivered him a heart attack strong enough to stop all three of his hearts. Buuuuuut… if tomorrow evening went well, the money would be the least of his worries!

And so, he keeps to humming to himself in the freezing cold tub, conscious of the boy just outside. Being the sole audience to his singing was a one time thing. A mistake he won’t make again.

When he’s dried off, in the proper sleepwear and brushed his teeth, he finds Riddle sitting on the office chair, doing his crossword by the light of the desk lamp. His eyes wander to the bed, where a quilt has been set out, one of the pillows now bear a ruby red pillow case,

“Trey made me bring that… and three toothbrushes.” Riddle mumbles, but there was clear affection in his tone. Dully, Azul wonders what it would take to get the redhead to talk about him that way– and in an instant, the thought is gone.

Dully, Azul thinks about bread. About mussels.

While Riddle brushes his teeth (With all three toothbrushes?) Azul fits his own designated pillow with a pillow case. It reminds him of daycare, where they’d used to sleep with large shells for pillows. He remembers a time when funny merfolk snuck in just to steal two pillow-shells from them, attempting to replace them with seaweed wraps. A stray strand of seaweed tickled one of their noses, causing them to sneeze, disrupting nap time, and the funny merfolk swam away as the entire class burst into tears.

With the same childishness as his daycare self, he thinks about switching their pillows, just for fun. Just for a laugh.

But he doesn’t expect Riddle’s pillow to smell so… sweet. Almost sugary-almost floral, a mix between the two. It’s nice and comforting, reviving the ache in his chest and a sensation like hunger anew.

Riddle exits the bathroom while he's squeezing the pillow, but not paying enough attention to see how frantically he puts it back. The other boy is not at all nervous as he slips into bed beside him, lights shut off with a simple magic pulse in its direction. The dark is familiar. The other body is not.

Riddle sighs. “I should have acclimated to the timezone change. I’m not tired.”

“If I didn’t know who you were, I’d say you were whining.”

“I am not whining!”

Azul spares a small glance at the other boy, half of his face hidden by the quilt, for some reason. The soft curls of his hair are perked into two sharp angles in his indignation, and he bites.

They shiver, as if alive, when he grabs them. Riddle is really angry now.

“What in the Queen’s–”

“I’m so deathly curious about these ‘antennas’ of yours.”

He can feel hot air puffed onto his wrist. “They are not antennas. It’s hair.”

“‘Hair’ that moves and reacts along with you. Only bird beastmen have such hair, you know.”

“You are lying. It’s just hair. My mom has it like this; I’ve had it cut this way for years.” The not-antennae wiggle furiously in the grip Azul has them in between his fingers.

“Have you ever tried to cut them?”

“No! Why would I?”

He opens his mouth to ask another question, the strands of hair slip from his hand and flatten into the rest of his hair. Azul gasps.

“They’re gone!”

Riddle groans, clearly at his limit. And…

…

Azul’s heart either stops or skips enough beats or rises in heart rate so high he can’t feel it anymore, but he’s also not thinking straight, or at all, because Riddle just shoved his face into his chest.

“I like your hair better. It’s so soft.” He mumbles softly and reaches a hand to run it through already dry silver strands. Azul decides not to comment on the fact that the back of Riddle’s thumb is brushing the backside of his ear.

Borderline hugging each other like this, hand in his hair… It's kind of comfortable. It lulls both merman and human to sleep. Despite the intense nerves dancing throughout his entire body and still being unsure his heart is in working order.

…Azul dreams about bread. And Floyd.

But you do.

Chapter 9: Clause 9

Chapter Text

When Azul wakes up from his carb-heavy dreams, he’s… tucked into bed? The quilt, smelling oh so sweet, like laundry detergent and cake and Riddle, is up to his shoulders, his hands are folded neatly over his stomach and Riddle’s pillow is propping him up comfortably alongside his own.

And Riddle is nowhere to be seen. He sits up to look at the room, tidied better than the hotel staff ever could. The clock on the nightstand said it was 11 am. How had he been asleep for so long?

He squirmed free of the quilt, connecting the dots and feeling embarrassed. Riddle had clearly woken up first, gotten dressed, and tucked a still-sleeping Azul further into bed so as to not disturb him. And then left, for whatever reason.

Shuffling footsteps and a shy knock provoke Azul to stand and stretch. On the desk, where a finished crossword sits, also lay a pair of old-fashioned keys with their room tag. He can’t help but chuckle– either Riddle was banking on that he was;

One) A light sleeper enough to wake from that obscenely soft knocking.

Two) Having already woken up and decided to just sit in the room and wait for his return.

Three) Just left in such a rush that he forgot the keys.

And with the text Azul’s phone buzzes with only a minute later, he receives the confirmation that the silly redhead had, in fact, simply forgotten the keys. He stops squinting at his phone to put on his glasses and fold the quilt before opening the door.

When he opens the door, the first thing he smells is the heavenly bread from yesterday, other sweet treats and coffee. Riddle looks a little sheepish as he picks up the cardboard drink tray from the floor and Azul takes the bags from his hands. That sheepish look shifts into something he can’t discern when steel eyes fall on his nightgown and quickly avert themselves in favor of walking into the room.

Blue and warmth flood his face and he shuts the door harder than intended when he realizes he’s still in his nightgown. It’s a simple thing; black with a purple sheen and spaghetti straps. It cut low into his chest and stopped at ankle length, loose enough to not feel like it’s not all there, but enough to accent his figure.

This morning, unfortunately, he isn’t very fond of that figure.

Spreading out all of his spoils on the desk, Riddle makes a mixture of blushy, sheepish. “Sorry, I– wasn’t sure what you liked, and I got carried away with my own selections.”

Azul waves a hand, trying to blend in with the wall. “No, it’s fine. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go get dressed and then I’ll eat, if you don’t mind.” He winces, realizing the redundancy in his sentence. Quickly, he grabs new clothes and rushes into the bathroom.

When he exits in a regular button up and casual slacks, Riddle is nursing his disposable cup on the swivel chair, half of the treats gone. He sits with his knees to his chest, but when he sees Azul, he puts his feet down to sit properly.

His stomach growls, but the first thing he picks up is the coffee to pop off the lid. Two sugars and two creams are enough– and its good coffee, freshly brewed and fragrant. “I’m surprised you’re consuming caffeine after the events of last time.”

“Not caffeine. It’s hot chocolate, and that–” Riddle motions to Azul’s cup. “Is decaf.”

Azul frowns. “..Not like I’m a regular coffee drinker… but…”

One look at those narrowed, frosty silver-steel eyes and Azul decides it’s time to ransack what’s been set aside for him. Riddle did pay for breakfast, which meant he owed him, and this was the easiest way to pay him off. Something other than the coffee warms his chest.

The first thing he picks out is the pumpkin bread. A highly inappropriate noise escapes him at the first bite, because it’s just that good. It’s gone in less than a minute and Azul licks his thumb once before stopping himself, moving on to a muffin. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was.

But then he realizes there are eyes on him as he eats, and he feels like hacking it all up again. The little voice in the back of his head scrapes and scratches at his mind, it’s only a matter of time before he makes a comment, morbidly telling him to look, to look and see the disgust in the other person’s face because he’s–

Fond.

Riddle’s smiling, but it’s not cruel. Not a grimace. Eyes shining and reflecting a new side to them. Fond.

Azul all but jumps out of his skin, not believing, not trusting his eyes. To avoid Riddle’s confusion, he crams what’s left of his cinnamon roll and knocks back the rest of his coffee.

“What time is it?”

“Hm? Oh, 12:01.”

He busies his hands by wiping them on a napkin. Roughly five hours before they had to get dressed, at least. “Hmm, I don’t have much experience with traveling and vacationing. What do we do?”

“Neither do I. This was my first time sleeping outside of home or Night Raven College.”

“Right, you’re… sheltered.”

Riddle frowns and tilts his head in question. “What is the emphasis for?”

“Eh..”

“Azul…”

He can feel the edges of his lips curl up into a smirk, and his brows knit together into some form of smarmy expression. “Hm.”

Riddle pouts, pink engulfing the tips of his ears. “I went to a private school, but my mother was always the first to appear at dismissal time, and she'd drop me off at home to do my homework while she returned to work. She excluded me from participating in group projects so I wouldn’t have to go to anyone’s house. Is that sheltered?”

“Oh.” Azul frowns. “I assumed you were homeschooled?”

“Only for my elementary school education. I needed some form of credentials.”

He sighs, tapping his foot in thought. Their room was downgraded, so that meant that so were the commodities…

“Ah, we should still have a streaming service and WiFi.”

Riddle looks nervous when he glances at the TV. “I’m not well-versed in navigating streaming services. I’ve only used NetFlex on Cater’s computer for a documentary once.”

“Documentary?”

“I like watching them on occasions– for some of my birthdays, my mother would bring me to a local video store and let me pick out a documentary to watch. With appropriate breaks, of course, but it stuck with me.”

“You’re not serious? Watching a documentary with breaks?”

“Yes? I used to take notes, as well. To prove I was paying attention and that I was capable of handling the privilege.” A wary look crosses his face. “...Is… that not alright?”

Azul thinks back to his own mother. His kind, soft-hearted mother who’s form of consoling him was to pile up his plate with all of his favorite foods every day. He’d resented her for it, very briefly, but when he’d moved to land, the homesickness had melted it all away. Her food was what he missed most of all, second to her multi-limbed hugs.

On second thought, why was Riddle telling him any of this? Contract that required them to be amicable or no, Azul had plenty of information on him that, presumably, no one else had. Had the Heartslabyul housewarden really put his guard down?

“I don’t think I’m qualified to answer that question.”

Riddle deflates, which twists something else in his chest and churns the contents of his stomach. “Forget it, I’m sure the hotel’s services include documentaries.”

The hotel does, in fact, have documentaries. An eyebrow raises when Riddle pleads with a glint in his eyes, for ocean documentaries, but he concedes. When one is chosen, Azul connects his phone to the wifi and messages Jade on the state of the Lounge. After that, he checks on his business newsletters.

Five hours fly by without notice, one of those spent in bed after Riddle demands he come and sit with him, for whatever reason. His face is flushed when he does so, for some reason he can’t discern. It’s endlessly frustrating, confusing and draining, and worse, it activates all the envy he has for him. Aching, painful, hot.

Riddle is in the middle of his second documentary when Azul’s alarm signifies it’s time for them to get ready. In a flash, they’re knee-deep in bags to pull out all of their contents. He unzips one of the main bags to see pink and something glinting and quickly passes it onto the redhead.

Anxiety prickles and buzzes under his skin as he rushes into the bathroom. As opposed to most people, the four walls in close proximity of the bathroom are a comfort. It’s actually happening, he was really going to the Ella’s Slipper Ball! He’s so close to getting life-changing money he can already taste it!

He winces at his own reflection and messy hair and his figure in the mirror, but refrains from covering it this time. He lets his shirt slip off and drop to the floor, same with his pants.

Five parts total, in teal and seafoam green, ruffles and puffy sleeves. Translucent mesh gives the impression of the outfit being off the shoulder and reveals a little more than his clavicle. Curse today, he’s not really feeling it right now. The high waisted teal pants provide him some solace about the mesh when they conceal stretch marks.

Magic is imbued into the very threads of the clothes, much like their school’s ceremonial robes. Magic is what keeps the temperature neutral and the teal corset from squeezing him too hard, but it’s looser than what he’s used to.

A sort of cape garment comes in two parts, a dark, shimmery teal layer pins to the arms to keep the off the shoulder look but can be adjusted to be over shoulder if he really desires it. The second piece is a light-colored translucent mesh like the top of his shirt. Teardrop shaped cloths are interspersed across it, with the way they both fold and shine give the impression of petals on water.

Cracking open his new makeup, he outlines his lower eyelids with teal. His eyelashes receive the lightest dab of lash glitter to accentuate the mere shimmery-ness of his entire outfit.

His hair is done as usual, done last and as quick as possible because Riddle is knocking on the door. He only catches another glimpse of what he is wearing out of the corner of his eye, soft pink and glistening. In the meantime, he puts on his shoes– glossy, a clear layer to mimic glass– and checks his phone and confirms that the driver will be at the hotel at 6 pm sharp.

The original room may have been taken away from him, but the driving services, at least, were loyal.

More and more anxiety buzzed as he waited for Riddle to finish up in the bathroom– maybe he should be thankful for the coffee having been decaf. Who knows what it could have done to him otherwise.

The door to the bathroom opens just a crack. “Ah, Azul. Would you mind helping me with something..?”

He nods, absentmindedly making a quip about the help being transactional and entering. Riddle hands him a sheet of stick-on pearls of various sizes. He’s allowed to pick a pattern of his own.

Gently, carefully, Azul lifts up his face with a crooked finger by the chin and leans in. One of his side bangs is tucked and gelled behind his ear so all he has to do is sweep back the other one to have proper access to his face. Sweet pink pearls begin to stem from the under eyes and outward, scattering into where freckles would be. Scarlet eyelashes flutter every time one is applied, and Azul can’t stop his eyes from drifting to them and the slate eyes behind them.

“Done.” He murmurs, barely a breath. And yet they don’t move, don’t spread apart. Azul feels hands propped against his chest. He can feel a pull, they both can, almost magnetic, the space between them becoming less and less.

And then Azul’s phone rings.

Instead of jumping away from each other, they part almost regretfully. Riddle turns away to observe his own reflection while Azul answers it.

“Driver’s here.”

“You rented a driver?”

Azul hums to himself in satisfaction. “Of course~”

They aren’t the only ones to descend the hotel, at least half a dozen other couples in just as bright ballgown-esque clothes, most of them in some shade of blue. A smug smile finds its place on his face when he sees his driver is the first in line and he has to refrain from– as often put in Idia’s terms– ‘trolling’.

After confirming his name with the driver, Azul opens the door for Riddle with a bow, getting in after. The car is one of luxury. Leather seats and a fancy air freshener– he’s never been one for driving, really, as an octo-merman from the Coral Sea and flying was quite enough– but it feels great to be in one.

The streets cruise by, the light of the sun painting the clouds in bleeding streaks of gold on an orange and red canvas. It makes Riddle’s hair look particularly bright against the window as he looks out.

He’s so sick with envy that he might wretch. Riddle is just so pretty, he’d wager that in this particular moment, he could put Vil to shame.

And worse, when they stop at the path to the manor and Azul has to open the door, he gets a good look at what the other boy is wearing– long sleeves that extend into a diamond shape on the back of his hands, a threaded loop around his middle fingers to keep them from riding up. High collared and falling into a half skirt that ruffles into a train and the underside is such a pale pink it’s almost white, same with the pants. His heels are just like Azul’s, with an added clear layer to mimic glass.

But what most stuck out to him were the pearls that lined every ruffle and detailed swirling patterns around his waist. Even in the dark he could see that they were the same pink as the ones on his face.

He might, might, might,might actually throw up right here, right now. Heat crawls all the way up to his head and makes him dizzy, it feels like he’s been punched in the gut, winded.

(A small part of him doubts what he’s feeling is even envy anymore. But that thought is quickly discarded before it can even be considered, just like many others have.)

To an outsider’s perspective, a man with silver hair and seafoam green formal wear is frozen stiff in place and his jaw to the floor. His face is quite the curious shade of blue; some may even wonder if he’s choking.

“Azul, are you alright?”

Utilizing his fingers to push his glasses up his nose, Azul sputters and assures Riddle that he’s doing splendidly. Just excited for the ball. It is the moment they’ve both been waiting for all month, after all.

Offering a hand, he guides Riddle towards the entrance of the manor, doing his best to ignore the phantom shiver he gets when their ungloved hands lace together. His face is still profusely blue and he’s well aware of it.

At the gate, after confirming their placement with a man holding a (hopefully magical) long list in one hand and a decorative spear pinched by two fingers in the other, they’re given pins imbued with simple cantrips to keep track of them or verify they’re real guests. The magic is so subtle Azul can barely read it. Endlessly curious, and a mental note is taken for future use… how much would it be to rent out the Mostro Lounge for private events? Especially with a second branch? Maybe it was time to start a side-catering business?

The manor’s foyer had a wondrous skylight to mimic the original castle’s glassy exterior and the steps were lined with a vivid red carpet. Gold and silver almost blend into the background by the number of shiny and shimmer. The ones that stand out the most are in regular suits and co*cktail dresses, decorated in sequins and feathers and really treating it like any other party.

From an outsider’s perspective, an outsider… with magic, perhaps, and partial fae blood, up, up, up and sitting at a balcony. Seated on a rather exquisite chair with red patterned fabric and leaning to observe the newcomers.

“The young prince, bo~wing to the assembly– suddenly, he stops!”

A pair of young bachelorettes, arm in arm and in enthusiastic conversation. With a hint of magic the outsider’s perspective can see what their hearts truly feel. Closest confidant, True love. How unfortunate.

“He looks up; alone, there she stands! The girl of his dreams!”

One man shouts and runs into another man's arms, spun around in jubilation while their partners scoff and laugh. Best of friends, Sworn brothers.

“Who she is or whence she came, he knows not. Nor does he care.”

One woman in one of the biggest dresses this outsider’s perspective has ever seen, in white and a veil– oh, that’s a wedding dress– hides her scowl with the fanning of her swan-feathered fan as she glares at a woman in black and a big, pointy hat and long, trailing black-as-midnight dress. Rivals for life, A mere bother.

“But his heart tells him that here, here is the maiden destined to be his bride!”

Two bachelors, hand in hand, one in dreamy pink, another in aquamarine. With just a little magic–

A smile makes its way into the outside perspective’s face. She lets the ball go on for an hour, reminiscing, wondering what the original may have been like. There was so little to recount of that ball that the Princess with the Glass Shoe had attended.

Years and years ago, when the fae were just a whisper, here and there and easy to offend. Great grandmother had gotten curious about the cries of a young human, one kind action had led to another… but then the Kingdom of Ashes fell, and not soon after the fae war had eaten its share of history and fostered distrust between humans and fae. It was only in this recent century that they’d been able to rekindle a connection and begin this tradition…

Disguised as a simple, kind hearted rich human who has no better thing to spend her money on.

A few other guests catch her eyes, but oh, there’s just something about young love! At her big (big) age, there’s nothing more tender than adoration in your adolescence, still so innocent and wears the thickest of rose-tinted goggles.

With one hand, she motions wildly to a man in a turquoise bellow.

“The waltz, quick, the waltz!”

They’d been anxiously sipping on a tart, decorated cider when the lights had begun to dim. A spotlight reflects on the clear marble floors and Azul freezes, his grip threatening to crack the real glass cup.

Riddle frowns up at him. “Azul? Is it not time…?”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth, one wrong move– including missing this dance– and he misses all that money… but doubts cling to him like the most stubborn of barnacles, like the ones that somehow managed to have a hold on his slimy skin during his overblot. He was aware that he was having an off-day since that morning, reaching its peak now. But he can’t afford to…

“Azul.” He doesn’t even have the strength to cringe at the disappointment clearly evident in the other’s voice. He wishes he had a crawlspace to hide in now, but the refreshment tables are made of glass. Clearly the hosts have more trust in their guests than he ever could.

“Azul, you can’t possibly doubt yourself now. We’ve practiced nightly for this– you’ve practiced nightly for this! I’ve seen your development first-hand, and you’ve improved significantly for someone who only started a month ago.”

Azul squeezes the cup again. Riddle is objectively right; just as he always claims, but he still does not move.

“And if there’s one thing I do know about you, it's that you have boundless ambition! Insatiable ambition! Truly, do you think you’re ever going to forgive yourself in the future if you don’t at least try at this opportunity laid right in front of you?”

Eyelashes flutter in surprise as they tear themselves away from the fine hairline cracks of his cup in his bear, gloveless hands and down at the short redhead. In the light, his eyes look like coal.

Hailing from the sea, Azul only recently learned that coal can start the most punishing of fires. But it can also start small ones, ones to scoot closer to and hover your hands over, warm and… comforting, in a different way than the dark can.

“Oh dear, you, talking about opportunities? Am I rubbing off on you?” He chuckles dryly. Looking back at the dancing crowd, each hand in hand…

He sets his now useless cup down on the table with one hand and pushes his glasses up with the other.

“Right. My apologies you had to witness that…” He extends a hand, bowing slightly, something in his chest feeling like it’s being squeezed at his next words. And voice the smarmiest, smoothest and insincere it’s ever been, combating the first time he proposed a contract, the time he made the deal to have the Mostro Lounge made, Azul asks:

“Riddle Rosehearts, won’t you give me the privilege of accompanying you for this dance?”

Pearls blend into flesh as dance partner's entire face flushes into the same color. But coal quickly turns into ash when they narrow and a satisfied smile couples it.

“I’d be honored, Azul Ashengrotto.”

Two figures, one in what looks like white in the spotlight, and one that turns dark blue, consumed by shine and sparkles join the fray.

Hands join together as they sway, fingers lock together when the time calls for it. Effortlessly spinning, bowing, stepping. Twinkling, glimmering, radiating light in and of itself.

Fabric bounces with each step, folds when they pull close. Pearls dig into hands as they take on a light but firm grip on Riddle’s waist, lifting him free of the floor entirely and tilting him downward, then returning him into position with equally caring force.

More spinning, more bowing, more light footsteps. Not a stutter, not a misstep, not a sign of hesitance as they twirl and follow the flow of other bodies.

The music begins to reach its end as they move to share the weight and it’s Azul’s turn to lean closer to the ground. But this time, hands brush pearls again, caress a cheek and move hair away from his face as Riddle leans down further and their lips connect.

It’s not just the music that fades away, but the room, the people, his very brain. A slurry of weightless colors and fuzzy shapes, no different from removing his glasses and entirely foreign at the same time. ’Envy’ blooms and chokes his heart and lungs like poison ivy, entangling his ribs so thickly until they break or burst from his chest and swallow the other boy whole along with him.

Those sweetened strawberry-peach lips leave before they can be snared by the ivy and soft, well-manicured hands pull Azul back up, but not from the haze. It clings to his being like stubborn morning mist, waiting to be dismissed by the first rays of golden white sun.

And those golden white rays come, the spotlight fading away like the moon they have danced under for many, many nights and the color returns to all to warm them.

A part of him doesn’t believe it, mind so addled by his give-and-take perspective that he idly wonders what he has exchanged for this event. Perhaps his chance to meet and propose himself as a client to Monique Modol? Perhaps every and all his material possessions have been burnt down in a fit by Floyd?

An even smaller part of his mind thinks he might not mind.

The other, bigger part of his mind falls to his knees and joins his hands in prayer, for the money is too great to lose and his goal and passion too great to let go that easily. For a mere kiss from a boy who may or may not be at his caliber.

He smiles now at that same boy, gently leading him away, mindless conversation flowing through one ear and out the other.

Another hour passes, filled with what he least expects– compliments. Idle chatter. People move from place to place, admiring and pointing and “Oh my, do look at that young man! Do you think his hair is natural?”

Riddle speaks more Old Wunder to folk, though as confusing as it sounds, it sounds pleasant all the same. His world has been dyed in pink and the soft glitters of his clothing, after all, how can anything not be pleasant?

“My, my. I did not expect petals and pearls to be such a dashing combination!”

Both Azul and Riddle turn their heads to the new voice and Azul barely holds back a gasp.

There stands an older woman in a sky blue gossamer hood, tied closed with a large magenta bow. Her skirt is much the same, making the big golden brooch on her chest, marking her as a host, stand out.

What was visible of her platinum gray hair was tied back, crows feet accentuated by her smile. Taller than Riddle, but shorter than Azul. It takes his all to raise his voice higher than a whisper.

“Monique Modol.”

Monique laughs, a sound like delicate glass windchimes, even for her age. She extends a hand, and Azul takes it, shaking it formally. “Yes, yes, that’s right. I am Monique Modol… tell me, how are you fine folks enjoying the party?”

They share a glance, Riddle nodding and giving Azul the go ahead to speak on both their behalf. “Oh, just perfect. I only heard of this event last year, but I’d been dying to attend since. I… managed to get my boyfriend on board– he’s passionate about many subjects, but he taught me everything to attend this.”

Monique smiles, smiles, and nods approvingly. “I see. The Princess found her Prince at quite a young age as well– she wasn’t even twenty. I assume you’re still pursuing education?”

“We’re both currently in our second year at Night Raven College. Planning to pursue further education, most likely…” He looks at Riddle again, feeling a smirk behind his business smile. “Law, perhaps.”

Something in Monique’s eyes changes, something that reminds him of Lilia.

“Oho. Do continue.”

“Well~ we are both housewardens of our respective dorms. I, particularly… run a restaurant on campus. My mother ran a ‘local’ restaurant in my youth– still does– and it sparked inspiration. I’ve been interested in constructing a second branch on Sage Island, since guests are typically prohibited from entering.”

“Second branch, you say? Then a second branch, perhaps you may have.” With a snap of her fingers, in Monique’s hands appears a replica of their pins. She winks and takes a step back, nearly running into someone and almost causing their drink to spill if it weren’t for her magic. “Pardon me, miss!”

And with an apologetic bow, she disappears behind the passerby, who stares at the place she was in confusion.

Azul looks back down to his pin. Back to the space where the elusive woman had once been.

“Riddle, did I just..?” He wheezes.

“I think you did.” Riddle smiles, grins and holds onto his arm. “You did it, Azul.”

“Ah…”

He looks down at Riddle’s hands, moving to squeeze one of them with one of his own. He chuckles, then laughs, so much so like the original moment he asked the redhead to join him in this endeavor.

‘Asked’ may have been too light of a word.

But the dregs of pink stain his vision still, and nothing matters more than having this even be a success, and that Riddle is still clinging to his arms and even laughing with him. The desire to kiss Riddle again buzzes under his skin as he giggles, but he doesn’t do it. He doesn’t pull the other boy by the waist and cup his chin to tilt it up as much as the giddy, heady desire calls for it.

What are they?

To an outsider’s perspective with a touch of unique magic, what the boy in petals and the boy in pearls see in each other is…

Friends? True love? A confidant, an acquaintance, a deal, a task?

The outsider’s perspective disappears into the crowd, a chuckle on her lips.

The ball cruises by and midnight strikes, a clock reverberating through the manor. They’re the first to leave, rushing down the red-carpeted stairs and down the path to the gates much like a princess many years ago.

The ride is as silent as a mouse, the only sound is the flowing air conditioner. The sky is a gorgeous twinkling dark blue, shining like his faux petal-decorated clothes under the spotlight.

They stay silent throughout the short walk to the hotel and up the elevator, and Azul thinks of nothing. He thinks of nothing as they unlock the door and he closes himself in the bathroom to change again, leaving glitter and shine all over the floor and the sink. He’s grateful for the corset having been looser than usual, feeling relieved when it comes apart without marks.

His stretch marks are mysteriously pigmented a glossy, rosy color. His skin as a whole is tinted rosier, his blue blood typically making his fair skin fairer.

Riddle slips into the bathroom after him to undo his ungelled hair and unstick his pearls. He thinks a little sorrow to see them go, but nothing else. He zips up both their clothes for them, the quilt and pillow cover already packed.

He packs his own things and pulls out the pocket mirror to bring them back, carefully placing it into his pocket. He thinks of nothing, but it’s calm, like the times he’s laid on unoccupied shores. A good kind of nothing.

A yawn escapes his mouth, opening so wide it makes an audible click.

Riddle comes out with his hair down and his face clean, muttered speckles barely visible in the lack of light, even with Azul’s eyes that adjust better to the light. He picks up his bags, and they descend to leave their keys at the front desk.

Riddle extends his farewells to the same receptionist in New Wunder, pleasant like Old. Slate eyes admire the cobblestone streets and decorated buildings one last time while Azul uses the pocket mirror to reconnect them to the Dark Mirror.

The Mirror Chamber and its architecture is rose-tinted. Azul thinks nothing of it.

He yawns again on the path to the Hall of Mirrors, contaging Riddle with it and producing a sleepy chuckle from the both of them. The moon has just reached its peak at Sage Island, bathing them both in silver light that they typically danced in.

Would that really not occur anymore?

Their eyes barely linger on each other as they move to step into their respective dorms, but not without words. If words could be washed in pink, they would be, too.

“Good night, Azul.”

“Good night, Riddle.

Chapter 10: Clause... Annulled.

Chapter Text

“Vil~!”

Vil carefully moves his head to look at the new arrival in the Pomefiore sauna room. He immediately frowns disapprovingly at the disheveled state of Rook’s thrown-on bathrobe, but his flushed, overjoyed face refuses to change. He sits beside Vil with a thump, the bathrobe coming further apart as he hands Vil a magazine.

The cover is of an up-and-coming model, eclipsed by two boxes. One is of Vil himself, standing in costume and announcing his newest role as the main character’s best friend (More on Page 8) and the other…

And the other was of two very familiar people, two big, black blocks covering their eyes as they giggled arm-in-arm in pink and green.

“Monique Modol’s latest investments..?” He reads aloud. Page 12. The hot, moist, sauna air causes the magazine’s pages to stick together, but a little magic fixes it with ease.

There, on page 12, are several snapshots of Riddle and Azul, less obvious blocks censoring their eyes, and someone’s edited Azul’s mole away. They document Azul from looking startled, to laughing, to Riddle joining in on the laughter. A sweet picture, but considering they only got together, say, a month ago since that event…

“Ah… it makes sense now.”

“So it does! How magnificent for fate to bring them together at this very opportune time.”

“Rook, I know you perceive things better than that– how did I not catch on earlier?”

“And I you! Just take a closer look, and you’ll realize~”

Curious, dubious, Vil brings the magazine papers closer to his face and squints for emphasis. Riddle isn’t much of an actor, he supposes. They’re leaning closer and closer into each other in each photo, and he can tell Azul’s visible hand is tense. Perhaps he was holding back something.

“Hmm.”

Rook sniffles. Vil turns his head, expecting more waxed poetic on love, but he sees the softest hint of sorrow in his eyes, instead, starting a small hearth of panic in him. He sets down the magazine. “Rook, are you alright?”

“Non, non, Mon Roi… I… I am merely jealous. Oh, to meet Monique Modol in the flesh…” His friend shakes his head woefully and carefully wipes his eyes with a finger.

“Ah,” He breathes a small sigh of relief, not realizing his shoulders had grown tense in that moment until they loosen. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to acquire tickets of your own, or that I was not, either. We'll go next year for certain.”

“Of course we will, Roi du Poison! Ah, only three hundred and fifty-one days until that fateful day!”

Vil hums in agreement, thinking back to the two underclassmen. Two weeks ago, there had been a palpable awkwardness between the two, yet their interactions stayed warm. Like two magnets that just needed a little nudge and their right sides would snap together. Only a few days ago, that energy had ceased.

Right now, though, Vil had a bigger problem to face.

“Now, Rook. Who do you think you are, running into the sauna in this state?”

“Ahh…”

“First of all, you cannot come into a sauna without the proper equipment to properly distribute moisture throughout your face.”

Rook grins playfully. “And what would occur if I claimed the best way to moisturize my face was to use your lips~?”

“I would say you’re a blatant liar. Now stand up and let me see your bathrobe, you look like every other root vegetable in this garden.”

— — —

The morning Azul came back from the ball, waking up in his mess of a bed. The first thing he feels is the urge to cry again. But he refrains, knowing he has things to get in order.

The barest corners of his vision are still tinted pink as he dials two numbers.

In the barest pieces of the school uniform, he sits in the grotto of his own accord in the early Monday morning. He feels their presence before he sees them and his bottom lip juts out and trembles in anticipation.

“Azul.” Two voices call for him in unison.

They move to hover over him and cast a shadow. He sniffles once, twice. Floyd lets himself fall on his ass while Jade eases himself down, both right beside him. Two pairs of arms wrap around him in a tight, tight hug, and Azul bawls. He cries harder than he had in years, heavy, choked, and painfully loud due to being accentuated by the grotto’s stone walls.

He heaves and pushes his face into Floyd’s chest, unaware of the silent communication passing between the brother’s eyes. Alarm, panic, worry.

Don’t tell me he f*cked it up.

Not heartbroken enough.

..Don’t kill anyone and eat the evidence yet, c’mon..

“Azul,” Jade speaks kindly when he’s gotten the worst of his feelings out through tears, rubbing comforting circles on his back. He pulls his face out of Floyd’s chest and onto his own. “What occurred in those two days?”

“I– I– Iiiii…” He hiccups, whimpers. “I’m~mm s– o– orry—”

“Breathe.”

“Floyd, Floyd– you were– right, and I– I’m so stupid!”

By the Sea Witch, he blew it!

Patience.

Shut up!!!

“I yelled– yelled a~t you, and I was wrong—”

“Uh huh. Are you just crying because you were wrong?”

“Yes.”

“Then what happened at the ball.”

Azul sniffles aggressively, whimpering again. He shuffles further into Jade’s torso and mumbling incoherently. The twins return to reassuringly rubbing his back and squeezing him until he has no tears left to cry and his throat is sore.

“There, there,” Jade murmurs. “Are you capable of informing us of your escapades, now?”

“”’Informing us of your escapades..’” Floyd mimics his brother. “..He didn’t reject you, though?”

“He kissed me-e– and I didn’t do anything about it!”

Jade chokes on his spit, the hand on his back tearing the fabric of his clothes while Floyd jumps like the floor was lava. The hand further tears his shirt while Jade’s smile grows tense.

“Riddle kissed… you, and you didn’t do anything about it?”

“Sweet merciful Seven, Azul! HE KISSED YOU!”

Azul cringes at the twins’ unexpectedly enraged tone. He wishes the walls of the grotto were smaller, tighter, or at least that they were still submerged. His throat grows tight again.

Jade exhales strongly through his nose. “Azul, for all your intelligence…”

Azul sniffles.

“Oi, don’t make him cry any more, Jade. Dehydration kills us faster than it does humans, y’know.”

“Maybe he should die.”

Floyd stares at his twin in silence in a mixture of mild surprise and boredom, then grabs Azul by the bicep and pulls. “‘Kay. I’ll help you drown him.”

“Hold on!” He pulls back, playing tug of war with his own arm. A lazy grin stretches Floyd’s face as his nails dig in and his shirt rips further. They rock back and forth, the eel just out of reach of hitting distanced.

A giggle, not of Floyd’s. Azul’s unoccupied arms swings back in alarm but is caught by another eel. He shouts and threatens to do… do something to them if they don’t let go of him. It falls on deaf ears and louder giggles as he’s pulled left and right and he’s forced to knock them all town to the rocky grotto floor.

One head leans into his shoulder and another bumps into the stomach. The heap is comfortable, their freezing temperatures sort of warm against his torn shirt and skin. Jade’s voice is soft, back to that unreadable-to-all-else tone.

“What do you plan to do?”

A soft laugh and tears bubble up.

Azul picks himself up, using his magic pen to switch his ripped shirt for a new one and making a mental note to take it out of the eels’ next paycheck. “I… wanted to apologize to you two first. Then come up with a plan; I’m not letting him slip away.”

After all, the man with a magic portable spotlight couldn’t just confess.

— — —

“If you continue like that, Floyd says he’s going to find a way to tell Riddle for you, regardless of the contract you two have in place.”

Azul sighs and closes his eyes, balling up another paper and throwing it into an overflowing recycling bin he’s borrowed from his office. Ideas, ideas, more scrapped ideas. Inviting him to study at the library together and gently break the news, closing down Mostro Lounge for a day and decorating it, revealing himself in the center of the room via spotlight? Although Riddle was the hoster of Unbirthday parties, he might not be the type for big displays like that…

His glasses threatened to slip off of his scrunched nose as he looked down at his notepad. All of Riddle’s interests, dislikes, he’d scrounged for everything, even what he could find on the Rosehearts family. He knew more than the average person, but so, so little.

He had a date, at least. He still has the Heartslabyul houesewarden’s schedule for the month and he had a two-hour window on Friday that would most likely be wasted on studying, like all other days have.

Jade hums, wafting a thin polka-dot folder practically under his nose. His eyes are closed, the picturesque image of a good secretary. With narrowed eyes, Azul takes it with two fingers and gently opens it.

On one side of the folder are reviews, pictures, flowers. It’s a flower garden not too far from Royal Sword Academy, fostering unique local plants and a rentable gazebo. The other side is of a couple of ceramic tea sets and tins of floral teas.

It was familiar, somehow. He was sure he’d written these down before– he reaches for a notebook that should be on the right corner of his desk, full of his options, only to find it gone.

“Wait… you took this out of my–”

“You’ve been rather messy, as of late. I merely wanted to help you organize that desk of yours, stumbled upon some of your notes, and downsized your options.” Jade says, hands clasped together.

He bites his lip, looking at the pictures in the notebook. Then set it down with a groan, a hand dislodging his glasses for good. He wishes human limbs were bendier, so he could curl himself into an actual ball.

“What am I doing?”

“Pursuing Riddle Rosehearts.”

He levels the eel with a glare, only encouraging him. The points of his sharp teeth peek out from his smile. “Do not get smart with me.”

And so Jade stays quiet. The silence is worse, His bottom lip trembles, he’s sniffling.

Wiping his eyes, Azul begins to babble. “What am I doing? He’s under a contract, I’ve obligated him to– to– how could anyone like me? Look at me, he hasn’t even seen me beyond this–”

“He was not obligated to kiss you.”

“What are you still doing here? I– I want to be alone, please.”

Jade, ever the follower, compliantly begins to move towards the door, resting a hand against it to say one last thing. “What you want, you will get; that’s how it’s always been, hasn't it?”

The door clicks shut.

He was greedy, he knew that. Greedy, greedy, greedy. The realization of his feelings had opened a yawning desire in his gut, in his chest, so strong all he wanted was to drag Riddle down to the depths of the sea and keep him for himself.

But that was a vulnerability, both ways. A partner was a weakness one could take leverage of against him. A partner was someone who he was supposed to allow to peer into the smallest of his cracks, something he strictly banned everyone from doing.

Jade and Floyd were… his business partners. From childhood, simply.

He felt so hungry, though. Hungry, literally, and hungry for those soft touches and sweet smells and blind trust he could take advantage of.

His phone buzzes. A rapid-fire of texts illuminate his dark room– there are no windows in Octavinelle rooms, a clam-shaped lamp enchanted to dim and brighten with all the nutrients sunlight would have takes its place– and he jumps realizing it’s from Riddle.

Riddle Rosehearts : Azul. Where are you?

Riddle Rosehearts : I have an urgent matter to discuss with you.

Riddle Rosehearts : Nvm I know where your room is now.

He chuckles. Where did Riddle learn to use ‘nvm’?

But Riddle was coming over!? Now!?

He takes one glance at his messy desk and practically throws himself at it, grabbing the papers and shoving them in drawers without care, with the exception of the polka-dot folder, because business partners or not, Jade would probably get very upset with him if it was damaged.

Whatever it was that Riddle decided was an urgent matter (even if it was to informally break up with him, as he feared in a little part of himself) he could not let him even look at him in a state of disarray.

Not long after he smooths all the wrinkles from his bedsheets, Riddle frantically knocks at his door. Quickly, Azul throws on his jacket over his shoulders before he opens the door.

Riddle’s face is flushed as red as his hair, panting from clearly having run all the way to the housewarden’s quarters in his dorm uniform-issued heels from Heartslabyul’s wining halls.

“Azul,” He gasps, stepping into his room without an invitation. His heart rate spikes immensely when he realizes they’re in his room, alone, and grips the doorknob a little too hard when he closes the door.

“Azul.” Riddle says, somehow no less color to his face.

“Yes?” His voice catches, when Riddle leans in close and grabs him by the suspenders.

“Azul Ashengrotto. I am in love with you.”

It’s like a hit to the head. Like a gunshot, a white flash and ringing ears. Slate-silver-steel-gray-charcoal eyes look at him earnestly, but his first thought is to jump to conclusions.

“Are… are you making fun of me?”

“What? No?”

Of course he wasn’t, not with a look like that.

No, Riddle just beat him to the punch, like he always has.

“Ah. You’re serious.”

Riddle’s eyebrows furrow, voice hard and clearly growing angry. “Are you accusing me of being a dishonest person? Do I have to repeat myself?”

No, you don’t. He wants to say, but when he parts his lips, all that comes out is a laugh, a laugh that rises in intensity until he’s shaking and tears form in the corners of his eyes and clump his eyelashes. Riddle’s face, understandably not understanding, turns a deep shade of red.

But before the shorter boy can be swallowed by his doubt and pull away, Azul pulls him closers for a soft, chaste kiss, then pulls away to kiss him across the cheekbones, like the freckles that hide under his makeup. Like the pretty pearls that he can still see behind his eyelids.

“You… you idiot! You scared me!” Riddle scolds him in between adoring kisses, but soon, he’s giggling too. Only Riddle could barrel into his room and ruin all of his plans just as he formed them.

At some point, they end of on Azul’s bed, backing up until they’re under the overhang the bed is wedged into. There, Riddle weaves his fingers in between Azul’s and gives his hand a tight squeeze. Azul’s hearts (Riddle will never know) pound in his ears and tell him to get closer.

The best he manages is wrapping an arm around his waist, squeezing him back.

“We have a date on Friday at five.”

Riddle frowns, taking his eyes off of their intertwined hands. “Pardon?”

“I had a plan to take you out and confess for myself, but I severely underestimated you and your headstrong approaches to problems..”

Riddles turns red, guilty. “Oh, I told Cater about the contract… and he helped me realize what I was feeling. He had his suspicions from the beginning.”

“Hm, seems I underestimated upperclassman Diamond’s perceptiveness.”

“Cater’s always been quite good at reading people and environments, I’m not very surprised.”

“You have quite the exceptional arsenal of dorm members, don’t you? To be expected when yours is the only one at full capacity.”

Riddle pouts, puffing up his cheeks in a way that is so much more endearing now that he’s properly realized his feelings that it hits harder than it has before. “Keep Heartslabyul out of our situation.”

“Situation? Are you not my boyfriend?”

“This– this is my first proper relationship! I– grk, am I going to have to tell my mother!?”

The wall against his back and side and a prized rose in his arms, Azul feels a new sense of warm comfort envelop him, he sighs and gently pets the redhead and his heart-shaped strands of hair. “Don’t worry about that for now, will you?”

The silence only lasts a minute, when he speaks again. “I think I've had a crush on you longer than I realized.”

“Oh?”

“But this plan of mine hadn't included you until Floyd came in and brought you into my consideration..”

“..I love it when my plans have unconsidered bonuses.”

Riddle scoffs at the comment.

Down the hall, a grinning eel chuckles to himself, surmising that the directions he gave to the rushing housewarden of Heartslabyul had led to a positive end. In the end, he cannot ask for the details, as he finds out the moment Riddle leaves the housewarden’s room the next morning he has signed numerous Non-Disclosure Agreements that he plans to follow rigidly.

— — —

The gazebo looks better in person, surrounded by rows upon rows of native flowers. What’s more striking is the boy in red hair, wearing the same clothing he wore the first date he attended. The back has a diamond shaped opening, revealing tiny black specks scattered throughout pale skin. He turns around to show off a face full of speckles too, crowded together around his cheeks like blush, and the same ones peek out from under his sleeves on the back of his hands.

He’s overjoyed by the flowers that attract little creatures, but even more ecstatic about the pink tea set on the gazebo table, a matching kettle and tin of tea leaves and flowers from all over Twisted Wonderland.

It really is another world on Royal Sword Academy’s side of Sage Island.

He pulls the first seat out for Riddle and allows him to pick out a flavor, completely capable of masquerading as Jade Leech in manners. He can barely taste the flavor in his own cup, staring at the boy in front of him enjoying himself.

His boyfriend, all his.

Riddle suddenly gasps, silver eyes on Azul’s tea. “Stop!”

“Hm?”

“It’s a ladybird.”

On the tip of Azul’s gloved finger is a tiny red little beetle with two little black spots on its back. A lady… bird? He raises his hand to eye level, the little thing crawling along his hand.

“I thought they were called ladybugs?”

“Right. That’s the popular localization outside the Queendom of Roses. Ladybirds, Ladybugs.”

He looks at Riddle, how his hands are propped on the back of his two hands and a fond smile for the ladybird.

“How cute. It reminds me of you.”

He blinks, the tips of his ears flushing red. “Eh? I don’t think… I did anything to warrant that comment…”

The ladybird takes off, circling in the air and landing on the table in between them. Azul gently guides it away from the kettle to avoid the little thing from getting burned. “Expect many compliments in the future, little ladybird of mine~”

“L–little… what!?” Riddle turns red in the face, the hairs on his head flinching and curling into a smaller heart. A little lure of its own– or perhaps bug antennae.

They lapse into a comfortable silence. Perhaps the tea tastes a little… pink.

A sigh escapes Riddle as he finishes his cup of tea, more ladybugs having landed on the table, including on the handle of his cup.

“My mother always considered them pests. She wasn’t fond of bugs in the first place and preferred that they did their jobs for the ecosystem out of sight, but she favored butterflies, just a bit more. She could stand them more, at least.”

“...I never told her I liked the ladybirds.”

The next date takes place in two weeks later in the library, a genuine study date With No Ill Intentions, at all. Forget him committing every word of his boyfriend’s notes to memory, literally, physically salivating over them and, strangely enough, Riddle Rosehearts being jealous.

Not jealous of his notes or capability to multitask (though he was very impressed to see Azul’s capability to write notes with both hands at the same time, giving him a chance to boast that he taught himself to write with both hands at middle school age) but a student stared at them too long and he stared them down back with a glare hard enough to melt iron. He scooted his seat closer to Azul’s, as well, the pen leaving indents in his papers.

And that’s how it continued, bi-weekly study dates, comparing notes and homework. Floyd was freed from the contract and just couldn’t stand them that his mood would drop every time they were mentioned as a pair. That, or it had to do with the serrated bite marks on his cheek and the patch over Jade’s eye.

Unfortunately, he had to ‘correct’ those two’s behavior when they got too hostile with each other on one of the days Riddle visited the lounge. Jade had grabbed Floyd calmly by the front of his shirt, uncaring of the trays balanced in his hands.

“My money.” His tone was flat and face blank, expectant.

“I already WASTED the money. I can’t give it to youuuuuuu!!”

But when Azul demanded to know just what the feud between them was about, they fell silent.

As much as he wishes he could say the relationship was smooth sailing, he couldn’t tamp down the new flavors of anxiety that sometimes surfaced when it came to Riddle. It stung when the redhead pulled away from his touch, excusing himself. Trying not to do the same exact thing back out of bitter accustomed spite or when he was out of the mood.

He adored the touches on most days, though. Riddle continues to lace their hands together and squeezing gently, especially in private. Azul was particularly fond of Riddle’s canopy bed and its heavy, light-blocking drapes.

“Don’t strain your hands too hard, dearest. Take a break.” He’d coo and pat the bed. Riddle would turn pink and then they would curl up together, Riddle compliantly pulling the curtains shut and lying in the dark.

One late day, he lies in bed with his hands on his stomach as Riddle lies beside him, transactional ideals permeating in his head.

“What is it that you want out of this relationship, exactly?”

“What?”

“There must be something you’re getting out of this, being with me. You’re Riddle Rosehearts; you have everything, with your talents you could go into any and every field you wish and excel. What do you need me for?”

Charcoal eyes narrow in the dark, boring into the approximation of where his eyes would be. “What do I need you for?’

An arm makes its way across his chest, pulling them closer. The touch burns, both pleasant and like something he wants to pull away from.

“I don’t think that’s the point. I just want you. I want to know everything about you.”

“You…” Don’t.

But they suppose that’s simply on their path of figuring it all out. One day, Azul will willingly eat in front of his boyfriend more than once a month, Riddle will learn to process his own past with less hesitance, flusteredly accepting compliments and confectionaries.

Something else is in store for him, when an Octavinelle student comes in with three packages stacked on top of each other, a different merman's name for each box.

The heart attack that poor boy had, when those three mermen launched themselves at him. Azul cradles a small box in his hand, receipt for a custom piece of jewelry in his other. The other two mermen tear at the boxes with their claws and teeth.

Floyd’s box are shoes made of waterproof material, but have holes in them. He already has two pairs, a bright green pair and a banana yellow pair, covered in charms and often mismatched. These are neon pink with genuinely terrifying six inch blocks for heels.

Jade’s box is cold, and Azul immediately pulls a face when the smell hits. Wrapped in waxed paper with a laminated black-and-gold business ‘thank you for your patronage’ card on top, is a pound bag of premium baby octopi, for cooking. Knowing the recipient, the poor, unfortunate, wasted souls were probably going to be cooked with mushrooms or simply eaten raw.

“Wait, Jade, where did you get the money for that?”

“Our fingerprints are the same, dear ‘twin’ of mine.”

“Hah?”

Later that day, after settling the fight between the two brothers for good, he finds a gorgeous card and envelope waiting for him on his office desk. How it got there, he'd have no idea, but…

There's the first of four donations.

With extra confirmation that the donations are coming through, Azul gets to work immediately. Multiple scouting trips are made to various places in Sage Island, hunting for the perfect location to place his second branch. He could go for the already established fine dining district downtown? Or should he position himself only a block away from Eden Garden?

He was having fun, that's for sure.

Azul and Riddle even return to their almost usual, ‘friendly’ competition, complicated feelings filtering out. Housewarden meetings become a particularly hard slog to get through, when Azul Ashengrotto throws every and all offers at Riddle Rosehearts, partner discounts and exclusive deals and all. Riddle is surprisingly level-headed, though pink in the cheeks when Azul becomes a little too much.

Every couple of Unbirthday parties visits a particular guest of honor, though it takes a lot of willpower not to pass out from not only the vice housewarden's treats, but the envelope the brown hedgehog sat on the center table that it refuses to let go of, denting the paper with tiny teeth marks and ruining a very expensive custom made glove. Tiny terror.

Riddle vehemently defends Paul, claiming that the money and letter were fine, so Paul was innocent. Azul thinks hes on thin, thin ice, the both of them. He wonders if the matter is important enough to call a certain lawyer he knows.

Vil becomes unable to hold Rook back, and the petals and pearls pair brave a song by the hunter… and later interrogated on Monique Modol. Though it pains him a little, Azul decides to graciously gift him the envelope for the third donation on the account of a few favors… the envelope itself having been stashed away near Scarabia’s mirror when he'd found it.

And some nights, there are two figures dancing under the moonlight in the woods behind campus. It’s to be expected, really, but no one has to know about the Heartslabyul Housewarden sneaking out past curfew into the woods behind campus, the song of crickets their chorus.

Other nights, the moon's spotlight is dipped in pink, and that is where the fourth and final donation is found.

Even as they leave the campus for good, the dirt remains packed with footprints, footprints of a love story made on a contract.

Chapter 11: Fine Print

Chapter Text

Tentacles, arms, whatever you may call them, over fifteen feet long, push a human upper body through the water.

The foreign saltwater feels odd to his respiratory system, though it's the last thought on his mind as his hearts hammer in anticipation of seeing his boyfriend for the first time in several months.

Fourth year internships were like that, especially when one convinced his boyfriend to pursue three different ones and you take on seven.

So after having Jade and Floyd on the lookout, assuring concerned passers-by that their friend that just jumped off the bridge was not ending his life, Azul, on a break between his fifth and sixth internship, was surprising Riddle. The return address was for the local post office, sure, but Riddle had described the exact location for the clinic on the coast with such vivid detail that it wasn't hard to find out his exact location.

The surprise would count as a double, as this was also going to be the first time Riddle would see Azul in all of his true form glory, eight arms and copper-instead-of-iron blood.

And three hearts, but Riddle would never, never know that. Just so he could always hold it over his head.

In his leisurely (lazy) slow (sluggish) pace, Azul finds time to chuckle to himself to mask the anxiety humming in his chest. Both good and bad, he's missed getting to hold Riddle's hand and kiss him and hug him so hard his head could pop off and seeing his vibrant rose-red hair outside of pictures and admire those multi-faceted slate eyes of his, but also still definitely afraid of showing off the inky-dark, slimy flesh and naturally gray complexion.

It'd be wrong to say he was over it all. But he was definitely doing better, going on swims of his own volition more often and taking small, small snack breaks. His latest internship had included a lot of running back and forth and energy burning.

Riddle had been patient all the while, eagerly awaiting the day Azul finally let him in.

He didn't want to generate false hope, planning ahead, but if this went well… as a sort of ‘gift’, Azul had crafted a very specific potion for after their internships and official graduation.

Oh, who was he kidding. He wanted Riddle to meet his mom. (And stepdad.) And while humans were pretty, he was sure he would be prettier with a tail and a different shade of skin accentuating his hair.

He pauses to raise his head out from the water, holding a hand over his face to shield him from as much light as possible. His sense of navigation is rather exceptional in the water, following the current was easy enough.

“Right where the river turns into sea, pink walls…” He mutters the content of the letter, memorized down to the accidental drop of ink on the pages. The entire time they’d had their internships they exchanged letters like the fae in Briar Valley; Riddle was so enthused to write to him every time that the letters were pages and pages long… and Azul took it upon himself to write at least a page or longer to one up him. The tweel’s reactions would never get old seeing his seventeen pages worth of letters.

He follows a line of sunset-colored buildings along the water, their paint chipping and worn. “Rocks jut out from the waterside, rounded, so they’re not too dangerous if you fall over the balcony…”

The light causes a terrible headache to stab behind his eyes and into his temples. With his very limited eyesight, he indeed caught sight of a pink building similar to what was described. He swims as low as he can into the river, arms brushing sand and then smooth stone and he resorts to pulling himself through them.

Tentacles, arms, whatever you may call them, over fifteen feet long, pull and prop up a human upper body to peek through a pink balcony. With his terrible vision and terribly sensitive eyes, he can vaguely read the text on the window, backwards.

…Clinic…

And then a figure walks past and obscures his view, a figure with the prettiest red hair a merman could lay his eyes on and a long white coat, reminiscent of their in-school years prior. Even if he can’t see it at this angle, the name tag on his chest no doubt has the name Rosehearts on it.

A grin crosses his face, and he has to force his arms that have gripped onto the support beams of the balcony to relax before he cracks them.

He detaches a stone from the delicate chain wrapped around his neck, turning it into an octopus-shaped cane, and points at the window.

A small jet of water hits the glass, attracting the redheads attention. He ducks on instinct, and to sooth his returning headache for just a bit. He can hear the sliding glass door open and footsteps above.

“Rosehearts, what hit the window?”

“It just seems to be water, sir.”

A number of retorts build on his tongue, jokes and teases and one-liners. Instead, Azul rises out of the water and in view of the balcony, waiting, squinting.

The redhead turns to close the balcony again, catching sight of wispy silver hair and narrowed bright blue eyes, inhuman rectangular pupils at their center. He stops, jaw loose. He rubs an eye with a fist, looking again, blinking, all of it. Slate eyes catch sight of the mole just astray from his off-color lips.

A soft laugh bubbles into the name spoken, incredulous.

“Azul!?”

Azul smiles, warmth unknown to the cold depths of the sea blooming in his chest. He hadn't heard that voice in so long, saying his name. His hair was longer now, stray hairs blowing in the way telling that it was in need of a trimming. However much Riddle had hoped, he didn’t seem to have grown any taller in the span of a year. Adorable speckles packed tightly in the formation of a flush are displayed proudly on slightly tanned skin.

“Riddle.”

Riddle runs up to the edge of the balcony and leans over, as if to double check the mermaid in front of him is real. A gentle hand brushes his face to cup it, and Azul can’t help but lean into the touch. He’s definitely learned to accept those better, too. Squeezes from eels and squeezes back and random piles on one bed and oh how dearly he's missed this touch. This touch from one specific person he's only known for the smallest fraction of his life.

“..Azul. It's really you– and you're beautiful!”

That remark instantly brings blue to the merman's face. “Oh please, don't kid me.”

“I'm not ‘kidding you’! You're gorgeous.”

Azul giggles nervously, sinking back into the water. “Please, I don't want to pay a fine for breaking something here.”

Riddle pouts, leaning over the railing. Something falls out from under his shirt, a pendant made of white gold and a gray stone. It’s been polished, rounded into a teardrop while still showcasing a jagged side. There's writing on the back, on the white gold holding half of the stone. Only the two should know what those words are.

For all your faces; the soft and the sharp.

Azul's so distracted he doesn't notice Riddle swinging a leg over the balcony railing, then another, until he's dropping down at alarming speeds. In a panic, he catches Riddle with at least five more arms than necessary right before he touches the water.

Palms firmly plant themselves on his chest for support, nearly dropping the mage pen in one of them that he’d pulled out in preparation. A lightly tanned face turns pink, suckered arms nearly squeeze him to death.

“Haah, how this year has made me forget how you are.”

“I was going to catch myself! You didn’t– didn’t have to–” Riddle sputters, trying to squirm away from Azul’s chest, turning redder and redder, the hair on the top of his head ramrod straight instead of curved as it should be. The initial surprise dies down and he realizes he has Riddle in his arms, giving the other man a tight, tight squeeze with his upper body arms and an overjoyed kiss on his cheek despite the rage coming from him.

He lets him down eventually, of course, once Riddle is thoroughly soaked from the contact of Azul’s skin, huffing and puffing with his arms across his chest on the rounded rocks. Azul has to retrieve his fallen nametag from the water, thankfully undamaged.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know?” He sighs, a smile on his lips. Riddle marvels at the ease the card comes off from the sucker it’s attached to, even though he’s knowledgeable enough on octopi to have his own class on it at this point.

“I was not expecting you to catch me in the first place.”

Azul settles into the rocks in his own way, long arms taking over most of the space around them like a splotch of dark watercolor. Riddle eyes them with interest and not at all respectfully, just a bit of self-control away from manhandling one of those arms closer and inspecting it under a microscope. Even his little heart-shaped strands of hair point in the direction of the closest arm.

The frightening thing about Riddle’s face when it got like that was that it had an uncanny resemblance to Jade’s face when he was very, very hungry. Again, not at all respectful.

“..I haven’t taken a break since taking on this internship, I’m sure they’ll allow me to take a longer one today.” He huffs a dried strand of red hair away from his face. “There’s a pier not far from here, just a little farther west, and some lovely vendors along it.”

“Ah, I see, I see.” He knew of the pier already, obviously. That’s where he’d agreed to meet Jade and Floyd again. “Then I’ll be on my way~”

He leans in to give him a peck on the lips and disappears into the water, his shape shifting under the waves until he’s gone with the current.

“Rosehearts!? Why are you wet!?”

“I’m going to go change and go on break!”

“But what did you do–?”

Azul changes into his human legs under the shade of the pier, vaulting himself over once he’s in arm’s reach than climbing the sand the whole way.

Very shiny oxfords stand beside him as he sits and heaves from the effort, but they’re the wrong size for Jade.

A man wearing all black in a pier? And in sunglasses, and a magic pen holster very obviously in his back pocket?

“What were you doing under the pier?” He barks. It reminds him a bit of a green-haired underclassman.

“Oh,” Security guard, security guard, I need an excuse circles in his head. “I dropped my credit card through the cracks in the wood.”

“Being under the pier is strictly prohibited.”

Eloquent excuses and such form on his tongue, but he goes the classic tourist route. Voice light and petulant, he whines. “I don’t wanna go through the trouble of canceling my credit card.”

“When did you drop it? I’ve been here since six am.”

“Yeah, I was here way earlier,” He sighs for emphasis. “I’ve been retracing my steps a~ll day~”

“And you found it?”

He pats the front pocket of his shirt, feeling the credit card and identification he’s stashed inside. “I did! Thank you greatly for asking–”

“I wasn’t–”

“AAAAZULLL!”

Both men look up to see a very tall man with the most colorful assembly of clothes one could wear, teal hair and a black strand barreling straight for them, looking more panicked than he should. “Jade’s wasting all of his money on kebabs! And he’s pedaling his stupid book binding projects!”

Azul groans and pulls his feet up, dodging before Floyd can crash into him and giving the security man a rough shoulder to push him away, too. Jade’s latest interest, after abandoning mushrooms, was book binding– much more useful than fungi, but exhausting once he’d gotten finished with any and all invoices and other things, lurking local libraries like some alleyway monster to satisfy himself.

“Right, of course he is.”

He smugly waves goodbye to the security guard and follows Floyd to Jade and a small crowd. Jade is taking kebab after kebab, pulling the contents off the skewer with his hidden pharyngeal jaw while keeping his mouth open, and being too tall for anyone to look in and call him out, giving the illusion that the kebabs are merely disappearing.

“Alright, Jade. Show’s over, thank you all.” He claps his hands, a small flash appearing from his palms like sparks. People leave with giggles and chatter, one woman giving Jade her number. Ridiculous. At least the vendor is happy, counting the rolls of cash in his hands.

A kebab is waved under Azul’s face. He frowns harder at the eel but snatches it and chews on the first piece grumpily. It’s delicious.

“So you met with Clownfish?” Floyd ducks under the kebab offered to him.

“Yes, he should be arriving soon…”

“Are you going to request privacy..?”

Azul makes an intensely exasperated sound, hastily chowing down on the rest of the kebab. “Must you always be so terribly insufferable when it comes to this?”

“Perhaps you should practice the art of nonchalance?”

“Ohh, look between those little anemones– a little clownfi–”

“Where!?”

Azul ignores the chuckles coming from behind him in favor of seeing the person running up to him– now out of the coat and dry hair.

He stops just short of a few feet in front of Azul, breathing harshly but not enough to wipe the big smile off his face. (So much like–)

Azul takes a step forward, Riddle takes multiple, hesitating before launching himself at Azul to hug him. Without a missed beat, he follows the momentum and twirls him around, nearly bumping into passers-by, but he can’t care. They laugh and kiss and Riddle buries his face in the crook of Azul’s neck. They spin some more and the world turns into a blur and suddenly the moon is rising and they’re on the star-speckled beach, the foam licking their toes and the scent of salt heavy in the air.

Somewhere on the pier are Jade and Floyd, playing with lightsticks and diligently watching the pair. Floyd is wearing a familiar pair of sunglasses and a new black eye.

“...Should have taken the veterinary internship last.” Riddle sighs. He’s tied the lower end of his shirt up into a knot, stopping a few of the finer gears in Azul’s brain every time he catches sight of it in the edges of his vision, even as a merman that’s used to seeing naked upper bodies.

“So you don’t regret taking more than one internship?” Azul raises his brows.

“Don’t get too co*cky. This is the one time I’m taking your advice.”

“The one time? And here I was, drafting an essay on why we should buy a house in–”

“Your taste in houses is awful, what are you supposed to do with all that space?” Riddle stares off into the endless waves of the sea, sobering from the playfulness of the argument. “Living in a house together…”

“..Well, yes. That’s what I’ve hoped for us; we do need a place to live after graduation so why not do it together?”

There's a beat of silence.

“..Don't you fear you're going through life a little too fast?”

Silver eyelashes flutter in surprise at the question, looking down at the boy with hair so white and skin so pale in the moonlight it resembles porcelain and bone.

“I'm just getting what I want. If I happen to get them quickly due to my abilities, that's just how it is. In fact, I'll have enough riches to live without worry for the rest of my life.”

“We aren't very rigorous with time in the Coral Sea, you know. What we are quite serious about is family, partnerships– there's even a tale of a merman who swam great miles to find his lost son, making friends with plenty across the oceans beyond the Coral Sea, specifically with this one blue tang… Ahem. The point is, I promise you're not an achievement of mine, dearest. I'm sure you'll make achievements great enough to rival mine, even– and I intend to make my career

Riddle still seems unsure, looking at him in the eyes with eyes so light and vulnerable that they're a better match for the white gold of his pendant.

“I– I know we've talked about this, but this is both of our first relationship…”

“And I'll keep assuring you that as long as you're content and I'm content, we'll continue, as long as however that will be.”

If you asked sophom*ore Azul Ashengrotto about relationships, he'd refuse to tell you anything. But he'd silently laugh at the thought of actually comforting the vulnerable, much less a partner that rivals him. He's still fervently transactional, but constant, post-STYX counseling has helped significantly to develop his maturity, as well as simply growing into the last of his teenage years. Overblotting was simply a wake-up call. And STYX… wasn't talked about. It certainly gave him a shove.

Riddle finally softens, sheepishly lowering his gaze to the waves lapping at their feet and then up, directly into Azul’s eyes.

“...And when we get married, it’s going to be one of the biggest footnotes in my autobiography.”

“M– married!?”

“You’re going to have lovely parents-in-law. You can finally talk to my stepfather.”

“Slow down!” Riddle’s eyes are wide in panic, and he can’t help but burst into raucous laughter. He hugs Riddle tightly, then grabs him by both of his hands, gentle.

“In all seriousness, I… do want you to meet my parents after internships. I promise they’re fine folk.”

“Ah…”

“My mother will love you, I'm completely sure of it.”

“That… I would like that. You’ve talked about them more than you realized.”

It’s Azul’s turn to be shy, barely turning blue in the light of the moon. “My mother will love you, I'm completely sure of it.”

Riddle giggles, a sound barely audible above the waves. “Will they be coming up or will I..?”

“Oh yes, I’m taking you down there. I’ve already prepared a potion– totally legally– you’ll look like real merfolk, and–”

Somewhere along the pier, a young child trips and cries out, scattering the contents in their arms and letting them be taken by the wind. The pair jump apart, Azul lifting one hand to catch whatever is flowing by.

Leaves? No, lightweight, pink tear drop shaped pieces of paper. He lets it follow the current of the air and smiles, turning to Riddle.

“You know…” He offers a hand again. “I'm feeling rather nostalgic now. Won't you join me for a dance, dearest?”

Riddle smiles, taking the hand in an instant. There, they relive steps ingrained into their cores, imprinting their footsteps into the wet sand and sea foam.