#quatred

Yuu’s tired, is the thing.

Yuu’s nature is to give, and give, and give.  They’ve spent their life ripping out chunks, heart or stomach or lungs, and offering them to others again and again and again.  It was never this bad before, because sometimes other gave Yuu pieces back.  At the orphanage, or even after their adoption, their almost - friends at school.  Never quite enough to make them whole, but enough to keep them from bleeding out.  No one here is hole enough to do that / everyone here is too sick to notice Yuu’s illness and care to heal.

Cater says, “I do care about you, I’m just — I’m not good at talking about it.”

Enough to keep them from bleeding.  This isn’t that, exactly, the blot staining their palms behind their back, Cater finds them hacking and asks if they’re okay and Yuu wipes the blot from their mouth before he can see and hides their palms and hides and hides and snaps don’t bother, it’s not like you care, and Cater does care and Yuu knows that and that was cruel and Yuu knows that but they’re tired they’re tired they’re so tired and every day they wake up spitting blot or dreaming about someone they love trying to kill them it gets harder to ignore the missing chunks of their viscera.

But Cater does care, but he’s not good at talking about it, and Yuu still tastes ink and it’s so hard not to snap back, ‘GET BETTER.’  But Cater does care, and Yuu is patient but never pushy and kind but never saccharine and gentle but never weak and Yuu is everything everyone needs and everything Cater needs but they’re so tired and they’re bleeding out and right now they need Cater do give them something, anything, ANYTHING to staunch the errant flow.

(  a funny thought : if cater knew i was sick like this, complicated like this, would he care then?  )

“— Sorry,” Yuu says, and they are.  Almost as sorry as they are sick.  “I know you care, I’m just...”

(  a funnier answer : why even ask when i already know?  )

“Rough day,” Yuu finishes, carefully wiping their hands on their sides as they come back to tuck into their pockets.  It’s not a lie, which is good, because Yuu can’t lie.  Even now, it doesn’t sound like the whole truth.  “I shouldn’t have snapped.  That was shitty.  I’m just tired.”  Yuu is patient but never pushy and kind but never saccharine and gentle but never weak and Yuu is everything everyone needs and everything Cater needs except right now, daring to be sick instead of savior, and isn’t that it’s own kind of misery, because Yuu knows they’re not getting rescued but if that’s true, then they at least need to stay capable of saving.

But Cater does care, and he doesn’t want to get better.  

But Yuu is getting better at surviving on less - than / on surviving with chunks missing.

@quatred​ :    "you're an only kid, right?? no older sister or anything??" a shame, in cater's eyes, and he gives a dramatic little sigh. "if you did she'd be sooooo adorable ~ your mom's, like, such a cute milf. ☆" in his defense, he might be a little stoned. not that it matters.

❛    an older sister? no actually ---    ❜  unfortunately deuce already has a feeling where this is heading before cater even mentions his mom. in the past most of the time when he was asked about a sister it had to do with his mom. either because they were looking for a more age appropriate lookalike or because her mom was mistaken for his older sister ( something unfortunately inevitable due to her young age ). so cater’s next statement is not entirely surprising. however it is phrased much ruder than deuce is used to hearing it. 

the first year’s face immediately twists into a look of fury, red hot anger bubbling in his chest. to use a word like milf to describe his mom is just so unbelievably disrespectful. sure his mom is beautiful but she’s so much more than that. she’s kind, hardworking & so, so smart. & even if someone was to compliment her appearance they should do it in a way that’s worthy of her! milf is so...vulgar & even a delinquent like deuce knows it’s not right to call women such demeaning things. 

@quatred​ :    “ i know it’s late, but i just needed someone and. i guess you always answer when i call. ” i'm allowed one indulgence in the friendship tainted by a crush. as a treat. mental illness <3

trey’s tired. oh, so tired. it’s about what you’d expect when your sleep’s been interrupted prematurely. as a baker, trey’s not unfamiliar with going to sleep & then waking up earlier than most. but even for him 3am is a little much. it’s both too early & not early enough as he planned to wake up in two hours to begin preparing the shop. he doubts he’ll have time to go back to sleep & feel well rested now. 

❛    cater, what’s wrong?   ❜   he gets straight to the point, a little bit of his aggravation coming through in the way he speaks. it’s too early for trey to be delicate & patient about this, to wait for cater to open up naturally for him. but being patient has never done much in that regard anyway, has it?  ❛   you need something? i hope you didn’t call just to chat.    ❜ 

Riddle almost rolls their eyes / does scoff, just a little, large grey eyes widening and then lidding halfway as though unimpressed with the other’s words.  And they are.  Riddle scarcely understands himself some days / most days, a collection of rules and fears he built a self around to be good / to be cared for / to be himself — he lacks the kind of experience that would make him capable of understanding Cater in lieu of explanation, but he knows enough to know that Cater is hurting.  And, more than that, that Cater is important to him / that Cater is alone, despite that.

“Of course I came,” the dormhead replies, of course — Cater always seems surprised by loyalty, as though Riddle’s temperament is not clear / as though Riddle did not spend too much of his own life alone (  before trey and che’nya and after them, too  ) to view what bonds he does have as binding; Riddle doesn’t leave.  He doesn’t know how.  For all that he can’t read others, for all that he’s consistently afraid of being less than enough — for his mother, for his dormitory, for this loved ones — he’s never been one to give up.  (  if he were capable of giving up on others, he wouldn’t have overblotted at all, after all.  )  “I was worried.”

He loves his mother still / after all this, after all this / so of course he’d do much more for Cater, who’s dearer to him by far.

“You should be more careful,” they say.  If it sounds like a critique, it isn’t meant to / for so many years, the only love they knew was correction / Riddle is trying to learn how to love better than that.  It’s slow going.  They’re not certain they know how.  “I know that your unique magic can make getting through your responsibilities easier —” Cater laughs, a little rueful at being caught, and Riddle feels a smile curl against their mouth, “— but overuse of magic also leaves your body more exposed to sickness."  Like now, he doesn’t have to say, standing sitting on the desk chair they’d pulled over beside Cater’s bed.  Beside Cater within it.

Cater is important to them / and Cater is alone, despite that.  Riddle doesn’t know how how to convince him that he doesn’t have to be, the way Trey and Che’nya convinced him all those years ago.  He wishes he was more or better / doesn’t he always, and this hasn’t changed since his overblot even if so much else has.  The way he never feels like enough.  As he’d been raised to never feel like enough.

“—— Of course I came,” Riddle says again, a little softer.  His head tilts, and he’s still smiling.  “I can hardly claim to match Trey’s skill, but I did manage to brew some tea for you that should assist in regaining your magic.  And lessening the headache.  I ———”  care about you, want to help you, don’t know how.

Riddle reacts — of course Riddle reacts.  It’s a small thing.  Most likely wouldn’t notice it.  Trey would, he knows; Trey always notices.  Once, not so long ago, he supposed that Cater would not.  Too busy looking at himself to see others (  not a judgement; after all, riddle had been the same way for quite some time, even if not for the same reasons  ) or their minute pains.  But now, the queen knows better; when Riddle looks up from their tea to gaze at the other, they’re unsurprised to find Cater looking at them, having noticed their little start, their widening eyes.

Cater’s eyes are searching, waiting for a response, the way he often is — saying things that mean very little, or which have the plausible deniability to claim that they mean very little, but which he hopes might invite a saving.  (  so riddle guesses.  he’s learning that so many here wish only to be rescued.  )  

He spent so long thinking that if he was just more, he would be safe, capable of anything.  Better.  If he could just be more, he’d be enough for his mother, and she’d cease harming him with words or hands.  He’d be enough for Trey and Che’nya, enough to deserve their care.  He’d be enough for Cater.

But Riddle is only a boy.  Not a knight, or a savior.  He can’t save Cater, as Trey could not save him.  He feels a familiar panic at the sudden awareness of his own lack, a sense that if he is not utterly in control he is nothing at all, and tries to swallow around it.  Cater wants a savior.  All Riddle can be is a friend.

(  all riddle can be is ———  )

All Riddle can do is smile, finally, amused but not unkind, and all Cater can do is let his eyes widen in surprise.  Cater sees him, at least occasionally.  Riddle can at least return the favor.

Why was it Ness’s duty to bring Riddle his forgotten belongings? It’s not like it was his fault the queen of perfection forget his arm band at club practice. Besides maybe a teacher would see he forgot and get onto him for it. It’d teach him some humility at least. This was what Ness kept telling himself as he trudged towards the mirror to the Heartslabyul dorm. If any teacher other then Vargas had asked him to do this he’d have made up some excuse about why he couldn’t or more over wouldn’t help. However as he’d do most anything to please the head coach of NRC, he agreed. He debated throwing the damn thing away and really teaching the kid a lesson about not forgetting his things. But thought better then to risk having Vargas find out he was unreliable.

Still he didn’t have to actually go into the dorm or even see Riddle. All he had to do was make sure this stupid piece of cloth got to him. The bare minimum of what could be considered a plan formed in his mind as he began to scan the passing students for the marks of a Heartslabyul student. His eyes finally landed on a red haired boy not too far ahead of him with a red and black armband that just so happened to match the one Ness was carrying. He picks up his pace until he’s right next to the other before throwing his arm around them to keep them from running.

he appears out of thin air right behind cater, a vaguely thoughtful expression on his pointed features. ❛    diamond, are you familiar with memes?    ❜  the prince, all too ignorant on the subject pronounces the word like me-mes.