My gift for @crimson-luna-writes for @heartandquill âs Secret Santa event! Hope you enjoy :3
(Contains Trey x Riddle fluff)
Housewardens are meant to set an example for their housemates. To uphold the proper image of how to act and present oneself. Heartslabyul is a respectable house, after allâbuilt in the image of the Queen of Hearts herself.
Thatâs what Riddle works so hard to maintain.
Is it conditioning from his mother? His own pride? Maybe the pressure of his reputation constantly on the line? Itâs hard to say. Maybe itâs all of it. Maybe itâs the fear of failing. Maybeâ
âRiddle.â
The low, baritone voice snaps him out of his thoughts. Treyâs golden eyes meet his. His vice housewarden has come to check on him. Trey slides into the seat beside him, careful not to disturb any of the papers that Riddleâs been working through for the past few hours. He pushes a steaming cup of tea toward Riddle with an almost practiced ease.
ââŚYouâre aware of the time, right?â Treyâs voice is soft, almost cautious, though thereâs a gentle smile at the edge of his words. âItâs almost one in the morning. Shouldnât you be asleep? Youâll have plenty to do tomorrow.â
âYes, Iâm well aware, TreyâŚâ Riddle murmurs, his voice exhausted. He taps the end of his magical pen against his forehead, as if trying to summon some last bit of energy. His eyes drift shut briefly, the weight of the long day catching up with him. For a moment, he almost gives in to the urge to just lean back and close his eyes. But he canât. Not yet.
âBut I still have a few things to finish. These assignments wonât complete themselves, you know.â
Trey raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up in amusement. âAssignments? I thought you usually get those done right after class?â
Riddle opens his eyes just a little, enough to meet Treyâs gaze. His usual sharpness is gone, replaced by a tired sort of clarity. âYes, well⌠My entire schedule was thrown off today.â His voice tightens with frustration. âUnexpected interruptions. Itâs frustrating to no end. How hard is it to follow a plan? To stick to a schedule?â
Trey watches him quietly, his concern deepening. Itâs not like Riddle to be so visibly affected. Usually, heâs impeccableâalways on time, always composed. Tonight, however, his usual air of confidence is crumbling. His posture slouches a little more with each passing minute, the usual rigidity in his spine softened by exhaustion. His eyes look like they could fall shut at any moment, but heâs fighting itâfighting the overwhelming weight of responsibilities.
Trey notices the faint dark circles under Riddleâs eyes, how they seem to deepen with each blink, the tension in his shoulders. The usual crispness of his red hair is slightly disheveled, and the crown he wearsâso often a symbol of his authorityâis forgotten, resting abandoned on the edge of the desk.
He looks so⌠tired. So human.
Treyâs heart aches for him. Heâs known Riddle since they were children, and heâs never seen him like thisâso open, so vulnerable. It makes him want to step in, to take some of that burden off his shoulders.
âHere.â Treyâs voice softens. He slides the tea closer to Riddle. âDrink this⌠Youâll feel better. Just the way you like it.â
Riddle hesitates, his eyes flicking to the cup before back to Trey. He opens his mouth as if to protestâlikely about the Queen of Hearts' rulesâbut his words are lost before he can speak. His pride is no match for the exhaustion weighing on him.
âI canât,â he says quietly. âThe Queen of Hearts ruleââ
âThe rules donât apply when itâs just the two of us,â Trey interrupts, his tone gentle but firm. âNot when you look like youâre about to collapse.â
Riddle gives a small, almost imperceptible sigh, then finally takes the cup in his hands. He lets the warmth of the tea seep into his bones, closing his eyes for just a second, savoring the sweetness. Trey watches him, his fingers idly tapping the edge of his own mug, but his focus is entirely on Riddle.
ââŚThank you,â Riddle murmurs after a long pause, voice quieter than usual. His lips curl around the rim of the cup, the slight tremor in his hands betraying just how exhausted he truly is. Heâs still trying to hold it together, but itâs clear the cracks are showing.
âYouâre welcome,â Trey says simply, but thereâs something tender in his voice. He doesnât need to say more. They both know the unspoken understanding between them.
The silence stretches between them comfortably. Trey watches as Riddle takes slow, measured sips of the tea, the rhythm of his actions almost hypnotic. He notices the faint furrow in Riddleâs brow as he tries to focus on his work, the delicate way he holds the quill, the slight slump in his posture. Itâs as if the weight of his housewarden duties is too much, and yet heâs determined not to let it show.
Trey leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest, and just observes for a while. Heâs known Riddle for so long, and yet, tonight, something feels different. Thereâs a quiet intimacy in the way Riddle lets down his guard, in the way he accepts Treyâs support without protest.
âRiddle?â
Riddleâs pen pauses mid-air, and he looks over at Trey, blinking slowly. âYes?â
âIâm going to stay here until youâre done.â Treyâs tone is gentle, but insistent. âI donât want you falling asleep at the desk.â
Riddle scoffs lightly, but itâs more out of reflex than conviction. âYou know that would never happen. Iâd never allow it.â
Trey smiles softly at that, though his expression quickly shifts to a more playful one. âIs that so? Youâre looking a bit close to passing out right now, if you ask me.â
Riddle narrows his eyes, but thereâs no malice behind the glare, only a softness that makes Treyâs chest tighten with affection. âIâm fine,â Riddle insists, though his voice lacks its usual sharpness. âIâll finish this. I have to.â
Trey tilts his head, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. âYouâre stubborn, you know that?â
â...Says the guy whoâs staying up with me,â Riddle mutters, a tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Trey laughs and shakes his head, the sound easy and warm. âI donât mind. You know Iâll always be here, right? No matter what.â
Riddleâs gaze softens, though he doesnât speak right away. Itâs rare for him to open up like this, especially about his vulnerabilities. And itâs even rarer for him to acknowledge the depth of his feelings.
âI know,â Riddle says quietly, almost as if heâs talking to himself. âAnd⌠thank you, Trey. I know I donât always say it, but Iâm glad youâre here. Youâre my closest companionâmy vice housewarden. I fear I wouldâve lost my mind a long time ago without you.â
The words hit Trey harder than expected, and for a moment, he doesnât know how to respond. But then something warm and tender shifts inside him, and before he can stop himself, heâs reaching out to gently brush a strand of Riddleâs hair back from his forehead.
âYou know how important you are to me, Riddle,â Trey murmurs softly, his voice thick with emotion. âYou always have been. Itâs lucky, isnât it? That I ended up as your second-in-command?â
Riddleâs eyes flutter closed, and he lets out a quiet, almost reluctant laugh. â...Pfft. Donât get sentimental on me, Trey. Iâll finish this. But, thank you. For everything.â
Trey watches him for a long moment as he returns to his work. Thereâs something about the way Riddle holds the quill with such determination, even as exhaustion lingers in his movements, that makes Treyâs heart ache with affection.
They sit in the quiet of the night, the soft glow of the moon casting pale light across Riddleâs desk, and Trey wonders, not for the first time, how lucky he truly is to have this boy by his side.
Itâs not long before Riddle finishes his work, his cup of tea long emptied. Trey watches him set the quill down and stretch with a small sigh. Thereâs a sense of finality in the way Riddle looks up at him, and without another word, Trey stands to help him.
âYouâve done enough for tonight,â Trey says with a smile, gently guiding Riddle out of the chair. The housewarden might have the title, but tonight, itâs Trey whoâs carrying the weight.
