[ is he asleep? he certainly was trying to be. it's not his fault that every time he closes his eyes, all that he can see is riddle falling, riddle's cute little face contorted in pain, the blood, the bruises, the cutting despair. he's exhausted, yes, but the cold clutch of fear and the molten rush of anger keeps him suspended uncomfortably between the two. it's not really sleep that's got him now—it's a quiet, solitary torment.
there's not even anything to say, which is why he keeps his eyes closed as riddle slips into the room. "i told you so" would just be mean. he can't make any promises to avenge riddle after his last loss. and telling him, hey, welcome to the club, isn't it so fun to be the easiest of marks will undoubtedly not be reassuring. he sucks at finding the right words in situations like these. there has to be an alternative.
he's lucky that riddle gives him the opportunity to figure it out. there's a way to say all the things he can't and it's as simple as reaching out his arms just as riddle's drifting into the harbor of his shoulder. he can squeeze this tiny body in his embrace and convey exactly how much he values riddle over a few stupid insults, shaking with anger and concern and the reality of how close a call tonight really was. he can clutch at him like they're both drowning and maybe then riddle will see that the only thing that'll ever hurt him is losing this. and he can stroke his fingers through riddle's hair like despite it all, it's going to be okay. it'll always be okay, as long as they make it home together. ]
i see ur angst & raise u FLUFF
there's not even anything to say, which is why he keeps his eyes closed as riddle slips into the room. "i told you so" would just be mean. he can't make any promises to avenge riddle after his last loss. and telling him, hey, welcome to the club, isn't it so fun to be the easiest of marks will undoubtedly not be reassuring. he sucks at finding the right words in situations like these. there has to be an alternative.
he's lucky that riddle gives him the opportunity to figure it out. there's a way to say all the things he can't and it's as simple as reaching out his arms just as riddle's drifting into the harbor of his shoulder. he can squeeze this tiny body in his embrace and convey exactly how much he values riddle over a few stupid insults, shaking with anger and concern and the reality of how close a call tonight really was. he can clutch at him like they're both drowning and maybe then riddle will see that the only thing that'll ever hurt him is losing this. and he can stroke his fingers through riddle's hair like despite it all, it's going to be okay. it'll always be okay, as long as they make it home together. ]