A/N: An interpreted continuation of @shiny-jr wonderful fic. (checks calendar) Uhm, happy three month update to this series AND 1k notes on the first part! I would say sorry for the wait, but I really did need it LOL. Anyway, it's not super obvious, but the timeline is a bit all over the place in this part, because I'm jumping back and forth between past and present.
TW/CW: Immolation, violence, implied stalking+actual stalking, obsessive behavior, mild psychological and body horror, toxic relationships, Yuu uses it/its pronouns, we get a little meta in here, the boys are FIGHTINGGG
I. II. | Isekai AU | Yan! Heartslabyul x Reader
“Who are you?” said the Caterpillar.
This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, “I—I hardly know, Sir, just at present—at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.”
“What do you mean by that?” said the Caterpillar, sternly. “Explain yourself!”
“I ca’n’t explain myself, I’m afraid, Sir,” said Alice, “because I am not myself, you see.”
— Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, by Lewis Caroll
vi. Mourning
It is incredibly hard to get Yuu alone.
Whether it be by the forces of fate or just because so many vie for their attention, there is rarely, if ever, any time when someone is able to spend time personally alongside them. The only exception to this rule is Grim, who was practically the player's companion from the beginning.
So when Ace Trappola manages a rare chance to snag some one on one time with Yuu, he guns for it. Course, he had to time it perfectly.
It was just another night like any other. Ace and Deuce decided to come over to hang out for a casual sleepover as usual. The four of them did initially start out studying, before the textbooks and worksheets were being abandoned in favor of more exciting things, such as the deck of cards that Ace brought with him.
Sending Deuce and Grim off to get snacks through a won bet over a card game was easy as pie.
"Hey Ace?"
He hums in response, letting Yuu know he's listening. His nimble fingers shuffle the worn cards, flipping through them with practiced ease. Stacking them up quickly, he wonders if he should try to impress Yuu with another card trick to gain their enthralled praise.
"Do you…like…being my friend?"
The question makes him blink and look up in surprise at Yuu. It feels blasphemous to hear such doubt lingering in their words.
"Why? Scared I'm gonna ditch ya?" He teases.
Yuu doesn't respond, only giving a sheepish smile back.
"I-It's not like I don't like being friends with you." He tries to keep his cool. "I just-"
Yuu's smile doesn't falter. "It's okay, Ace."
He's reminded of his previous girlfriend in middle school. It was more of a fling than a serious thing, but it's something he remembers vividly. Their breakup, after all, was rather dramatic.
"You're too much, Ace. Sometimes you just take it too far."
What was even her name? Elizabeth? He could barely even remember, but for some reason, he still recalls the intense way her face was twisted in burning resentment. He tried to bury it in the past. He swore he would never fall in love or get into another relationship, preferring friendships over any kind of romantic trysts.
Now that he looks at Yuu, he already knows he's screwed up big time.
Yuu's gaze is no longer meeting his, instead staring into the fireplace that Grim had so generously set up earlier. The crackling blue flames reflect in their irises and in that moment, dread curls inside Ace's stomach. Yuu doesn't seem right.
"Hey…you okay?" He asks hesitantly, placing a hand on their shoulder.
Yuu doesn't move, still staring at the fire intently. He opens his mouth to ask again, but then they speak.
"If I wasn't acting like myself, would you still like me?"
Another question out of left field.
"Even if you somehow grow anemones on your head, Yuu's still Yuu, right?" His heart swells in pride at the way their lips quirk at his inside joke.
"Yeah…" they murmur back.
"Wanna see somethin' cool?" he says, holding out a card. Yuu tilts their head questioningly.
"It's the ace of hearts. What about it?"
"It's not just the ace of hearts!" Ace puffs out his cheeks. "Don't you know the meaning of this card?"
Yuu shakes their head.
"It means good news for yourself or someone close. Practically a lucky charm!" Ace waggles his eyebrows suggestively. "So how can things go wrong now that you have me?"
Yuu snorts and shoves him playfully. "Yeah, yeah, okay, Mr. Lucky Charm."
But it works. The foggy clouds clear from Yuu's eyes, finally returning them to the familiar luster he's used to. For the rest of the night, there is no hint of hollowness within them. And Ace hopes he will never see that sight again.
-
He should've known something was up since that night.
When Headmaster Crowley personally makes an appearance at their dorm, he should've realized it then. If there was anything that the old raven hated more, it was having to do more work than usual.
"That person wasn't an imposter." Crowley says, coughing awkwardly into his fist.
The solemn words echo in his head on end. The rest of the Headmaster's words start to tune out for Ace. Automatically, his legs begin to move on their own. The calls of the others chase after him, but he ignores them, racing out of the lounge and towards the mirror portal.
Because if you didn't hurt Yuu-
-then what had he done?
When he first arrived in NRC, he didn't even know that Ramshackle dorm existed. Not until Yuu came to reside there; until he had to beg for shelter from them when he was chained with that damn collar. He knew that they didn't have to take him in. But they did, and maybe that's why Ace couldn't turn his back after that.
The building before him is no longer the broken down hovel that he remembers back then. He remembers how the roof was almost caving in and wooden beams were always in danger of collapsing. Each knock on the entrance doors would send cascades of dust upon his head. Now, the walls are painted with a fresh coat of paint, the roof has new shingles, and the place actually looks like a house you could safely live in.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Prefect! Are you there?!" He yells, desperation leaking into his voice. "Please!"
Bang! Bang!
He's gotta be out of his damn mind, acting like some crazy person. But he can't help but be blinded by his fear. So he keeps hitting the door with his fists, praying, hoping, for…well that someone would open the door.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Yuu!!" He screams, and his voice echoes around him, mocking his helplessness. His fists are becoming numb from slamming the wood so hard, but he can't stop himself.
"Yuu–!"
"Oi! Ace!!!" A rough hand on his shoulder shoves him back and before he could knock the souvnabit-
"Ace, look at me!"
He's stopped by Deuce's fists meeting his in an even match of strength. Like an illusion broken, Ace stills and yanks his hands back.
There's only heavy breathing in between them for a long while.
"...they're not here." Ace snaps to look at Deuce, who only closes his eyes in a painful grimace.
"What do you mean, 'not here'?" Ace asks.
Deuce doesn't say anything for a beat.
"What do you mean they're–"
"They're in the infirmary." Deuce's words flow out in a breathless rush. "The Headmaster said that after you ran."
Fuck, he just acted like an idiot then. No wonder no one was responding to his absolute earth shattering door banging and yelling. Then the meaning of Deuce's words begin to sink in. Oh Seven, no–
He turns and before he could even step in the direction of the main building, his arm is yanked back.
He snarls at Deuce. "Let me go! I have to see the prefect!"
"Housewarden is calling you back." Deuce forces out through gritted teeth and closed eyes. "The Headmaster said that…they don't want to see anyone."
And like a fire put out, Ace's anger chokes to flickering embers.
He lets Deuce guide him back, all the way from the Ramshackle dorm, to the mirror portal, and then back to Heartslabyul's lounge where the other three are grimly awaiting them.
Ace half expects to be yelled at once he passes the threshold. Or get some kind of lecture on how he should have better manners than to just run off like that. It would've been just like his housewarden to only care about weird, arbitrary rules when there were other arguably more important matters.
But his housewarden sits silently on his gilded velvet throne with glassy eyes. There's no anger burning behind them, and the freshmen are terrified to see their once proud and fearsome queen reduced to this husk. He almost would rather him back to the state where he was barking out orders for them. The silence in the lounge is deafening.
Ace swears they must be all thinking the same thing.
Please let this be a bad dream.
-
He tried calling you. Texting you. Hell, he even tried messaging you on Magicam! Magicam, of all things!
Anxiety claws at his heart with each unread message and dial voice tone greeting. He has so much to say, to ask for-
Deuce wasn't faring well on his side either. He had also tried calling and texting you, to no avail. Grim, that traitor, hadn't come back to visit Heartslabyul at all since the incident. Never mind the fact he had only himself to blame for that—he thought at the very least the cat direbeast would have some sense of pity for their friendship and throw them a bone.
Ace tried two more times to meet you.
First, during your infirmary stay, when you were still unconscious.
The second time was when you returned to Ramshackle dorm with Grim.
Maybe the Seven were punishing him for his hubris. Or he supposes this is just karma. Because both times, he fails spectacularly at the front door of Heartslabyul. Because of this, he's the reason why Riddle had put them all on house arrest (with the exception of academic reasons, of course).
It's a declaration that would've been met with mutiny from all of them, if it weren't for the fact that even Headmaster Crowley had explicitly forbade anyone from showing up on Ramshackle's doorstep or trying to meet you. So he understands. Really! He does. He's seen how Riddle holes up in his room, muttering to himself while carrying out boxes upon boxes of crumpled paper. When he manages to snag a stray paper that flutters out on garbage day, Ace realizes that Riddle is also just as frenzied trying to reach out to you. Even if he is going about it in an old fashioned way.
He'll chip in to help. If his housewarden is left to his own devices, they’ll all be fossils by the time he sends what he deems a satisfactory letter.
And the faster they do this, the faster they have a chance of reaching you.
vii. Embalming
The most horrifying thing is that it doesn't seem to care about dying.
That cursed pile of ceramic shards had disappeared—no, pieced itself back together—and once again, it became the smiling face of Yuu, the being they all knew and used to adore.
Riddle Rosehearts immediately smashed it to pieces again under the weight of his magic.
No one had tried to stop their housewarden. Not even the faceless mobs. Even if they were all alarmed at the erratic behavior of their housewarden, they could not deny the fear of seeing something dead come back alive. With not so much as a dent or wound in them, for that matter.
The third time it happened, Riddle ordered for the remains to be dumped into the school’s incinerator at the highest heat level. Surely, that would be enough.
He watched as the incinerator roared and shuddered, shaking as if the pits of hell had opened. After a few agonizing minutes, the rumbling stops, and before he can even breathe a sigh of relief, the iron hatches creak open, and out strolls Yuu, perfectly fine and pieced together again.
It's magic. Or some kind of century old curse. Of course it is. After all, it was at a higher power than even Draconia's comprehension. Why he didn't consider the possibility beforehand is something he berates himself now.
What might be the most damning thing is that it has no fear or suspicion in its face; even after the multiple times it’s been maimed and torn apart. Not like you, who immediately closed themselves off at being hurt so thoroughly.
The irony isn't lost on him. The temptation of letting the puppet take its place back in favor of just bringing everything back to how it was is something Riddle could not deny. But now that he's actually met you, Yuu just seems more of a shadow of what he remembers during your interactions together.
It has your face. It acts like you.
But it's not you.
When Ace asks after the commotion at the Unbirthday party on how he was able to figure out that it wasn’t [First], he had to take a moment to gather his thoughts. Ace’s face changes into something of disbelief when Riddle merely replies with: “[First] takes their tea with two sugars and a dash of milk.”
“You were so sure only because of that?”
He doesn’t want to think what Ace’s face would look like if he had explained his whole list of reasons how he realized that the puppet wasn’t you. How he soaked up as much as he could when you came over for the tea party. Your expressions, your little habits, the way you fidget…it was all filed away in Riddle's head and later, his private notebook.
But that doesn’t matter now. Now, there’s an even bigger problem than the puppet resurrecting itself.
Grim is missing again.
This alone should've been more worrying than anything for Yuu, but it merely shrugs and says it’s not sure where he scampered off to. He's more than suspicious, of course, but there is no proof, which is infuriating already.
But without Grim, they are missing the key to finding [First].
The others raise hell once they hear the news Riddle reports at the weekly housewarden meeting. A new wave of tension washes over NRC and with it, an unprecedented deep disdain for the puppet. It returns back to classes unannounced, making Ace and Deuce rant to him about how weird it is that it’s trying so hard to act like nothing had happened. It attends school events with their camera, drumming up conversations like normal between all of them; despite the fact it gets ignorance or violence in response (depending on the person it greets).
But none of them are really sure on how to interact with Yuu.
The nicer ones, like Trey or Deuce, entertain Yuu with frigidly civil responses, in hopes of boring the puppet and making it flit away to another victim. Meanwhile, he and Ace have finally come together on an agreed opinion: that they would rather die before letting the puppet even think it could take [First]’s place.
“Go away.”
Yuu merely smiles in response to Riddle’s annoyed voice. The puppet leisurely lounges in the chair across the table from him. The school library is vast but empty, his authoritative voice echoing down the long halls. Several floating books flit past above their heads and the chandeliers above flicker with bright candlelight.
“I just wanted to keep you company.” Riddle purses his mouth in disgust. It’s invasive, it’s gross, and most of all it feels wrong to hear those words coming from Yuu.
“I didn’t ask for your company,” he replies coldly. “Shouldn’t you know that it’s bad manners to bother someone who wants to be left alone?”
“I don’t think you like being left alone, Riddle.” He flinches at the way Yuu’s eyes bore into him. “Well, then again, you sure like to pretend you’re fine, don’t you?”
His hand tightens around the textbook he’s reading about cursed dolls. There would be no point if he brought out his magical pen and reduced it to rubble. But he is tempted, if only to get some peace and quiet for just a few minutes.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Riddle says.
“Hmm…” Yuu hums into its hand, “...then I suppose I will just let you be. What a shame, I had something entertaining to tell.”
“What? What do you mean?”
Yuu giggles and waves him off. “No, no! You said you didn’t want my company now. Why should I tell you anything?”
He resists the urge to incinerate the book in his hands. “Fine! I would like your company. What is this ‘entertaining’ thing you want to tell me so badly?”
“Hmm…how insincere,” Yuu tilts its head coyly with a smile more akin to a smirk. “But I guess that’s the most I can get.”
“Since you’ve all been driving yourselves crazy, [First] is safe.” The floor feels like it’s been yanked underneath him. The puppet is smiling still, as if it’s all some big joke rather than the revelation it delivered. He can hear his blood roaring through his ears.
“You…” Riddle snarls, face heating into a bright red rage. “What did you do to them?”
It bursts into laughter at his face.
“Why, I only granted their wish!”
Its laughter is cut short by the sound of ceramic being crushed, and Riddle is left shakily breathing at the pile of shards that used to be Yuu. The puppet’s words churn over and over in his head.
What did you wish for?
-
It is currently 3:20 on a Wednesday afternoon.
In his planner, the bullet point neatly penned on the schedule shows ‘Studying for History Test’ in bold blue ink for the time slot. ‘History of the Queendom of Roses’ is laid open on his desk, to the chapter about the local mythos of the area, just as he intended. His notes from lecture are next to it, with several of his stationary needed to jot down annotations.
And yet, Riddle has yet to touch any of these items or actually adhere to his daily schedule—he’s too distracted by what he should do in order to reach the player.
Riddle's already embarrassed enough, resorting to handwritten letters with the best calligraphy he can muster. He's sent only a couple that passed his satisfaction, and they have all been met with judgemental silence. He’s hunched over another crumpled letter near ripping his hair out when someone knocks on his bedroom door. He quickly shoves the envelope under some textbooks out of frantic instinct.
“Come in.”
A familiar bob of red orange hair pops out behind his door, and Riddle raises an eyebrow at the underclassman who enters.
“Ace? What is it?” Normally, Ace would never be in his room if he could help it. If he was in Riddle’s room, it most likely meant he was either being scolded or punished. And Ace’s eyes are shifting side to side, as if he was trying to sneak his way in.
“Out with it, Ace.” He’s not in the mood for the underclassman’s shenanigans.
“Housewarden, you’re writing letters to the prefect, aren’t ya?” The question completely takes him off-guard sputtering.
“W-What does t-that have to do with you?” He tries to maintain his composure, but Ace is already giving him a smug smirk for the one up on him. Of all people, it had to be him finding out.
"I had an idea, Housewarden. Why don't we send them something with the letter?" Riddle blinks in surprise.
“...How smart of you for once, Ace.” It was so simple, yet he marvels at the idea's brilliance. Perhaps there was merit in trying this proposal.
“Hey! What the hell does that mean?!” His underclassman snaps back in a huff. “Whatever, point being, maybe we should switch it up instead of letters all the time.”
He crosses his arms, “And what do you suggest? There’s not much we can really send that hasn't been sent already by other dorms.”
Ace winces. Clearly he didn’t think about the other dorms with more affluent people; people who had more than enough thaumarks and prestige to spend it to appeal to you. Riddle can't blame him either: although he is at the top of the school and his parents are well known mages, it's not like any of that could help him here. All of them, in a sense, were stuck in that situation.
For once, he starts to resent not having more.
"Ugh, well…maybe it doesn't need to be so fancy, you know?" Ace rubs his neck, face scrunched in frustration. "Like…uh…you know-flowers! People send flowers all the time, yeah?"
This is true. And for Queendom of Roses’ residents, it has become custom to send bouquets with subtle messages left in petals and stems. Although he is a bit loath to admit that he isn’t as well versed in the language of flowers compared to hedgehogs.
"And what do you recommend, Ace?" He asks. "What would be the best flower to send to the prefect in our circumstance?"
"We got all these roses, why not send them that?" Ace responds, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Riddle coughs in annoyance.
"Why not just procure some from Sam's shop? Today is Wednesday. Do you not remember rule 228?" He chides. Ace groans, rolling his eyes.
"Not the weird rules again…"
"Ace."
"Yeeesss Housewarden…" The card soldier mock salutes with a deadpan expression. "I'll see if we can get some flowers at Sam's."
"You better, or else it's–"
"-off with my head, I got it, I got it." Riddle seethes as Ace cuts him off and dashes out of his room before he could get another word in. So troublesome…
Still, there's nothing to do except wait for his card soldier to report back. He turns back to his desk, bringing out the crumpled letter from its hiding place. Running a hand over the crumpled pages, he attempts to pick up his pen again, but fails as his thoughts begin to wander.
Riddle only manages to pen a couple legible sentences when his door slams open, banging against the wall. He almost falls out of his chair in shock from the loud noise. How was Ace back so quickly?
"Have you not heard of knocking?!" He scowls, turning around to see Ace panting and sweating as if he had run a marathon.
"Never mind that, Housewarden, I saw them!" Ace shouts.
“What are you jabbering…” Riddle trails off in realization. “You better not be horsing around, Ace.”
“Do you think I would lie to you about this?” Ace retorts frantically. “I saw them at Sam’s shop working the cashier!”
For a moment, his mind races with this information. If you were working at Sam’s shop, it would explain why you weren’t showing up to classes, let alone in the hallways or rooms of NRC. It’s a clever ruse—classes may be over during this time of day, but nearly all of them were participating in mandatory club activities or study labs. No wonder no one else has caught on to this. Riddle rubs his chin in thought, settling back in his chair.
“What are you going to do now, Housewarden Riddle?” Ace asks hesitantly. His eyes are filled with some kind of anticipation and hope, no doubt wondering if he could get some leeway in his own agenda. Normally, he would go right away as there was no need to hesitate about these kinds of things.
But. Crowley’s stern announcement comes back to his mind and guilt starts to creep in.
“First, we’ll go with your idea, Ace.” He responds. “The ban hasn’t been lifted, after all.” Ace opens his mouth to protest, but he holds a hand up to interrupt him.
“But if that doesn’t work, then I’m sure even Crowley can’t say anything about coincidences.”
viii. Calling Hours
“I’m not joking around, you two.”
There’s very few times that the vice housewarden of Heartslabyul gets truly mad. His patience seems boundless, honed by years of taking care of younger siblings at home and then dealing with rowdy underclassmen in NRC. But even his saint-like patience could only stretch so far.
“I told you, we didn’t do it!” Ace scowls with furrowed eyebrows and crossed arms. Meanwhile, Deuce is silent by his side, face twisted with conflicting emotions. “You don’t even have proof! You just singled us out just because!”
“Who else was around the kitchen when I left it?” Trey asks, voice starting to rise in anger. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice you two lurking around before?”
The two freshmen began to speak out, voices rambling over each other and cascading into a loud shouting match that was barely intelligible.
“We just wanted to see if we could get something from the fridge, how were we supposed to know someone would-”
“Me and Ace just wanted to bring something along when we deliver the Housewarden’s invitation to-”
"You dumbass, don't just say that out loud-!"
It’s at this moment that Cater Diamond strolls in, takes one look at the mess of the situation and does a 180 back round to the door. But it’s too late, because the interruption is just enough for Ace to sink his hooks into him.
“Cater-senpai, you believe us, right?” Ace shouts after the orange head, making him flinch in place. “You saw us get the order from Housewarden Riddle!”
Cater turns around slowly like a door on rusty hinges, with an expression that screams of not wanting to be involved. "Oh Acey! Uhm, you mean the letter Riddle gave you two-"
"Yes!" Deuce interrupts in earnest, already trying to barrel his way to proving his innocence. "Housewarden Riddle entrusted us to deliver the tea party invitation ourselves personally."
Cater turns to Trey, who is rubbing the bridge of his nose, eyes closed with a tiredness that seems comically reminiscent of an old man. "Well, I'm not sure what this is all about, Trey, but maybe you should cut 'em some slack and let it go."
The other senior nods in reluctant agreement and the two freshmen all but nearly trample over each other trying to run from the tension filled room. But they're stopped in their tracks when Trey calls out again.
"Wait, you two." The duo slowly looks back with cautious eyes.
"You wanted to bring something to the prefect, didn't you?" Trey tilts his head to one of the many strange topsy turvey cabinets in the kitchen. "I have some leftover cookies that I made yesterday. Take them. I'm sorry for accusing you guys like that."
Ace and Deuce exchange confused glances, and although Ace looks away in denial, Deuce nods in gratitude. They leave the kitchen just as chaotically, this time with the aroma of lavender following them.
A brief silence follows their absence, while Cater raises an eyebrow at Trey.
"Sooo…care to spill the tea?"
"Don't even start." Trey groans.
Cater seats himself on one of the stools near the counter, waiting. Trey busies himself with cleaning the stoves and counter, trying not to meet Cater's eyes. Silence falls, but it's with none of the comfort that Cater is familiar with. Giving up, he turns to his phone, refreshing his Magicam dash mindlessly. This continues for a good while until finally—
A low sigh, then– "Somebody took my candied violets."
Cater looks up from his phone. Another beat passes, and he realizes it's not a passing statement.
"It's not like you to get this bent out of shape over your ingredients going MIA." Cater shifts his face onto the elbow meeting pristine marble while shoving his phone away. "You sure that one of the froshes didn't just end up taking them thinking they were for everyone?"
Trey lets out a rough guffaw. "You know better than I do that the others don't touch our stuff."
Cater taps his fingers on the polished white granite, hands already itching to grab his phone and check for updates, but he restrains himself. "That's…mostly true."
"That can only mean one of you guys has taken it." The hairs on Cater's neck raise at Trey's tone.
"Hey now," Cater grins, raising his hands in mock surrender, "you heard it from those two. I was with Riddle when he gave them that invitation."
"I know." Cater's fingers twitch as Trey carelessly tossed aside the rag used to clean the counter into a bucket. The soggy fabric makes a hollow sound against the wood, echoing rather loudly in contrast. "But Riddle would never do such a thing either."
Cater resists the urge to roll his eyes. It's true that their cute housewarden would hardly dare to stoop to thievery, but Trey's blind faith in him can be annoying at times. After all, didn't their little teapot tyrant threaten to kill the prefect at one point?
He supposes that was his fault, though.
"Then it's back to square one." Cater shrugs. "Besides, what were you even planning to do with them if you weren't gonna eat it?"
The baker runs a hand through his mussed forest green hair and frowns. "I was going to bake a cake with them as a peace offering to the prefect."
Cater's mouth forms an 'o' shape in realization. "That's pretty big brain."
"Yeah, but look how that turned out."
"It's fine~you were able to at least send cookies this time round." Cater finally cracks, digging into his pocket for the familiar grooves of his phone case. "All's well that ends well, right?"
Trey doesn't respond and Cater is too engrossed in his phone to look up to see his expression. He slides off the stool naturally, tapping through recent posts and comments, eyes laser focused on recent posts on his dash.
"Cater."
There it is. It's the most recent story reel by Ace(according to the time stamp, about two minutes ago). It's an inconspicuous black out picture with several cute teapot and teacup stickers decorating the screen. The banner message is short and sweet: 'Dorm tea party bout to get real this month 🤔😶'
"Cater." Cater's attention snaps back and towards his friend, who gazes at him with dark eyes.
"Please don't lie to me next time."
With that, Cater watches as his long time friend finally leaves the kitchen.
Thank the Seven he did. He might have been a decent actor, but Trey has been with him through thick and thin, and it's given him the annoying ability to see through his tells.
Really now. Trey knows that he hates sweets. Shouldn't that be enough of an alibi?
It's not fair that Trey already has everything to set him up for a good relationship with you. Even if they're all set back by their violent reaction to you arriving in this world, he's sure it would only take a couple tries with Trey offering genuine heartfelt food to get to you.
It's just not fair.
Isn't he fun to hang out with? He consistently gets compliments online for his suave looks and easy personality. So why couldn't he compare to-
He shakes his head. There's no point in overthinking it now. Cay Cay #3 had easily taken the cutely decorated jar of violets and discarded it in the dorm dumpster. Like candy from a baby.
He knows it's petty. But for once, he feels much better, knowing that he upset Trey's original plans to ensnare you.
Now, he once again checks Ace's story reel and screenshots it, while quickly pulling up the search bar. He just needs to level the playing field.
-
There can only be one fake bitch in this house and Cater has had enough of the competition.
“I wasn’t aware that you were going to visit me, Cater.”
The puppet tilts its head with a warm smile, but there’s a frosty undercurrent to the greeting. It’s clear that he’s not welcome, if the way it’s blocking the doorway of Ramshackle has anything to say.
“Yeah, I ended up losing something here. You mind if I look for it, Yuu-chan?” Cater asks innocently. “Promise it won’t take too long.”
“Hm, sure. But I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Yuu's grin is sharp as a razor blade. It knows what he’s here for and it’s definitely taunting him. That little–
“Well, it doesn’t hurt to look~” He responds back airily. His fist curls around his phone in his pocket tightly. The puppet shrugs and walks off, leaving him standing in the doorway.
It’s been a while since he’s personally been at Ramshackle dorm. Cater remembers how Ace complained about the house being a real fixer upper, but then again, he doesn’t remember much of that, since Yuu always spent most of the time at Heartslabyul dorm. The renovations certainly made it much more pleasing to the eye and more importantly, livable by HOA standards.
There’s nothing to write home about the living room. The coffee table is bare and there’s no wrinkles in the sofa cushions at all. It’s a little eerie—as if no one even lived in the house in the first place. The only sign of living was perhaps the fact it is clean of dust or dirt.
Nothing in the kitchen either. He gives a wayward glance to the second floor, searching for any signs of movement. Couldn’t hurt to be thorough.
Rows of tall doors pass by as Cater opens each one of them. A storage closet, a spare room, an electric cabinet, another storage area–it all blurs by after the fourth door. There really is nothing, as if the whole house has been wiped of any trace of you. He's about to toss in the towel when an old, dusty memory crops up. His little freshman, Ace. Cater swears he had been making fun of Yuu for seeing strange things at night. Something about a mouse?
Right, their room! Why didn't he think of looking there?
His feet take him rapidly from memory to the door that was the third from last in the hallway in the east wing. He manages to wrench the door open to see a regular bedroom, bed sheets barely stirred. Before he can even put one foot in, a throat clears behind him.
"It's rather rude to go into other people's bedrooms, don't you think?"
You got to be kidding me. Cater turns around with the fakest smile plastered across his face. Yuu looks unamused, tapping its foot impatiently against the wooden floorboards.
"Just wanted to make sure, y'know?" Cater replies. Yuu gives a tight smile back. It goes around him and shuts the door with a hard thunk.
"Ever heard about how curiosity killed the cat?"
Cater shakes his head in surrender, "I guess I need to look elsewhere for my lost item."
The entrance doors slam shut behind him hard enough to startle several birds out the dead trees in the yard. Cater doesn't bother giving a look back as he strides out of the yard and past the gated fence surrounding the property. That glimpse was enough and much more. Cater smirks to himself, taking his phone out and sending a quick text message to the group chat. Yes, curiosity may have killed the poor kitty cat…
But satisfaction brought it back.
viiii. Eulogy
It might surprise people to know that Trey Clover's first real friend is Che'nya Pinker.
That's not to say that Trey had trouble getting along with others as a kid, oh no. Everyone in his neighborhood agreed that he was a very sweet boy, who looked out for others around him. When he wasn’t taking care of his baby sister, he would be asked by other parents around the block to look after their own children, whether that be playing soccer games with the more energetic kids or patty cakes with the quiet ones. So it isn’t a stretch to say that he’s friends with nearly everyone. But Che’nya was a special case.
Their first meeting is still burned into Trey’s memory.
“You see it too, don’cha?” The boy had greeted him while swinging upside down on a low hanging tree branch. Trey had half a mind to scold him for the dangerous action before he actually looked at him.
The first thing that takes Trey off guard is that he has eyes. They’re a shiny yellow, just a shade lighter than his. His pupils are long and thin, not round like his at all. He supposes it must be like a cat’s pupils—for he’s never seen anything like it. Then it’s his unique colorful hair, streaks of light pink intermingling with dark purple, making a strange striped pattern across the chopped uneven hair. Trey faintly recalls a certain cat from their local legends, whose fur boasted those very same colors.
“...What are you talking about?” Trey eyes him warily. The cat boy gives a cheeky grin. He vanishes and then reappears in front of him, albeit with missing arms.
“The people around us who wear the faces of strangers.” Trey’s skin gets goosebumps at the way the boy observes him. He is not looking through Trey, but at him. Their eyes are directly making contact. “But you’re different. You have the face of a friend.”
“And what do you mean by that?” Trey furrows his eyebrows. The boy's grin stretches wider in response. (His teeth were rather blunter than expected, but his canines were pointed.)
“You’re strange. I’m stranger. Together, we can both be strange,” the cat boy chirps back lightheartedly. “The name’s Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker. But you can just call me Che’nya.”
Something in his mind had clicked then. It’s hard to explain the feeling–just that it felt like a puzzle piece put into place. He hadn’t known it then, but at that point, the hands of fate had moved.
Whatever the case may be, Trey was grateful to have Che’nya. Because now he knows that he isn’t crazy; not when he couldn’t see his parent’s faces nor his baby sister’s or even his other friends'. Che’nya too, only shrugs his shoulders when Trey asks him about his grandfather.
“The old man? Yeah, they say I have his eyes, but I wouldn’t know.” The statement is so casually delivered that Trey can hardly believe he’s talking about his only living relative and guardian. “His face does not mirror mine in my mind.”
Staring down at you, shivering with cold and hunger, he feels something churn in him again, just like that fateful day.
He has his orders from Riddle: bring in the imposter alive. Trey isn’t a violent sort and nor does he enjoy boasting his strength over others like a sadist. And he cannot deny the feeling of cold rage that day when Yuu shuts down, fear inundating him that he may never, ever, get an explanation for the world he was born in. Why he and Che’nya were special, why he had to witness Riddle suffer under his mother–what was it all for?
Your face. There is no blank stretched skin—he can see your wide open eyes, bloodshot and fixated on him. Your mouth too, shaped in a pained grimace, lips bruised and bloodied from previous skirmishes. Surely, surely, there must be a reason why you were here. Why you bear the same face as Yuu. You hold all the answers, if you would just cooperate.
“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Trey tries reaching out, but you scurry back into the hedges, squinted eyes wary and untrusting. You remind him of a frightened hedgehog, prickly spines bristled and body curled in to protect yourself. “I just wanna talk.”
“Go away, please,” the imposter quietly pleads. “Just pretend you never saw me! I swear I didn’t even know how I got here…”
Trey swallows hard.
“Just come quietly. Please.” He is the one begging now. “It’ll be easier for all of us.”
“For who?” The imposter barks a sharp laugh. Trey doesn't miss the way they wince in pain from their wounds. “For me? Or for you?”
He doesn’t have an answer. The sound of running footsteps has him turning, and when he looks back, you’re already gone. The only traces that you were there at all were faint splotches of red blood and crushed grass.
Trey wonders if this, too, was meant to be fate.
—
Trey’s been lovingly dubbed as someone reliable. Some consider him to be an older brother figure due to his nagging and supportive care. It's ingrained in him at this point from the years he’s spent playing babysitter. Trey knows the students around him are not his younger siblings who need constant watching (although their actions say otherwise).
But he worries.
Just a bit. Trey knows better than anyone that you can take care of yourself just fine. He's seen how you carry yourself within those hedges.
It's just that, he doesn't know if you're okay right now. How could he know? You've been silent even in the face of Riddle's unceasing letters. So of course he's just a bit unsure if you're actually okay, or if you don't trust them enough to say so.
Trey finds himself more frustrated with the ban they're under. Not because of the inability to see you, although that is part of it. No, it's because Riddle has managed to skirt around that rule to desperately grab onto you, and that was just enough to wear you down.
He thinks if he was bold enough, he could've tried.
As if it wasn't enough, even Ace and Deuce find their own way to get to you, snatching up the chance to deliver the monthly tea party invitation. It takes everything in Trey to clench his teeth and let go—even when Cater ruins his plans. He can't get mad here because it won't get him any closer to you. He has to be the bigger person.
If there is one thing Trey knows about Cater, it's that he absolutely hates getting sweaty or dirty. If Cater wasn’t trying to get out of running those P.E laps, he would absolutely be shirking any extra work assigned. So he's more than suspicious when Cater bounces up to him with a grin saying he could help cover Trey's science club duty of watering plants.
Trey likes to think he can tell when Cater’s lying. His close friend's happy go lucky demeanor often throws off others, but he’s been with him long enough to pick out his subtle tells. His eyebrow twitches when he’s particularly anxious and the corner of his mouth tends to perk up if he’s feeling particularly daring or desperate. Trey figures this must be something that even he can’t trust Trey with, if he’s going out of his way to take on extra work.
So Trey considers this repayment for letting him take his violets. He watches as Cater dashes off in labwear, waiting for a minute, before following after him. His duty was in the tropical zone of the botanical garden, so he has no worries even if he does lose him.
He nearly does a double take when he sees you walking in the courtyard hallways by yourself. And before Trey could rethink his actions, he follows behind you, eyes not leaving your form for a minute.
You look like you haven't slept well. There's dark circles under your eyes. He hopes you're brushing your teeth. There’s no signs of bandages or wounds that he remembers you in, which he supposes is one relief. Even if he so desperately wishes to cook you a proper meal—you look like you could fall over at any minute.
The realization your path is leading to the botanical garden comes just as Trey catches sight of the glass dome. He wants to rush in after you, but he stops himself just as the door swings close behind your form.
Cater is in there. It all makes sense now. Trey has to give it to him—Cater really does know every little happening in the school. But Trey knows him well too—and if he had to guess, even if Cater manages to talk to you, it won’t end pretty. His inability to be genuine will definitely only set you on edge and less likely to reciprocate.
The waiting game he plays is nothing compared to the silence he had to endure before. Trey doesn’t have to look to know that you’re the one slamming open the doors to the botanical gardens, labwear dirtied and face twisted in a frustrated anger. He watches as you enter Professor Crewel’s office again and after some time, pop back out in completely different clothes.
His chest tightens in longing as he continues to follow after (more from an instinctual drive now, rather than deliberate), trying to keep you in sight within the stone pillars. He wants to call out after you so badly and ask you what’s the matter, if you need help with anything. If there was anything he could do to make you forgive him for watching you bleed out on dewy grass. The sun is about to set, warm golden rays flickering between pillars and casting long shadows. Trey’s so enamored with following after you that he flinches back when the sun directly shines into his eyes, blinding him momentarily.
He barely manages to get a hold of himself. By the time his eyes blink away the blurry blots, he realizes you’re looking back at him. His breath stops. Your eyes are wide and frightened as they are that day, and his heart drops to his stomach. Both of you don’t move, merely staring at each other.
You finally break the connection, turning around and quickly walking away. Trey gasps, remembering to breathe, lungs screaming for air.
What was that?
x. Entombment
It's a nice sunny afternoon in the Heartslabyul domain. There weren't any track club activities nor dreaded remedial lessons. If anything, this free time would have been perfect for a nap. He hadn’t been up to any large shenanigans like this since the whole fiasco of [First] and Yuu.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.”
Ace scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You got a better one, loosey Deucy? If we don’t do this now, then all of us are stuck until Housewarden grows a pair of balls.”
Deuce Spade bites his lips. “I just think there might be a better way around this.”
“Yeah? And the sky is blue. Keep going, we don't have much time." Ace cranes his neck to the side of the bush, eyes warily looking out to make sure the coast is clear.
Deuce grumbles but continues plucking, some roses already tucked within his arms. They chose a bush the furthest away from the dorm, in a hidden corner where no arched windows could overlook them. It was necessary, because today was Wednesday, and the Housewarden would have their heads for plucking his beloved roses out of all the flora.
His fingers are bleeding already, finger pads torn from repetitive tugging on the thorns and stems. They couldn’t afford taking any of the gardening tools, lest they be questioned for what they were doing with them. Still, even he had his limits.
“Why is it that you aren’t helping at all?” Deuce snipes at Ace, who scowls back.
“You want to be caught by someone, genius?” Ace replies snarkily. “Someone has to keep look out.”
“Doesn’t explain why I have to do all the work.”
Ace rolls his eyes, deigning not to bother engaging in another futile argument that would lead to nowhere. Deuce is about to cut off a particularly stubborn rose when Ace pipes up again.
“...Did they ever respond to your texts?” Deuce only deflates in response. Ace’s mouth slants crookedly in an annoyed grimace. The two of them know full well what the answer to that was.
“Damn that cat…” Ace mutters bitterly under his breath. Deuce doesn’t say anything. He too, is finding it hard to not feel petty towards Grim right now. Weren’t they friends? He could’ve afforded to help them out somehow. But it’s no use. Their texts went unanswered. Headmaster had banned them from stepping foot onto Ramshackle grounds. It’s like you had closed everything off from them.
It’s why he doesn’t protest this plan, as reckless as it is. He’s not any better than Ace—he needs to see you. He and Ace were your closest friends, your first friends! He loved you. That had to mean something. If it didn’t, then…
“I think this is enough.” Deuce adjusts the messy bouquet in his hands, attempting to hold them without crushing the delicate petals. Ace looks over and nods in approval. He takes out crimson ribbons and a silk handkerchief and begins tying it around the stems in a very artful way that has Deuce’s eyebrows raising.
“Where did you get that?” Ace smirks in response at the interrogative question.
“Don’t worry about it.” Ace snatches the bouquet from his hands and slips in an envelope with the housewarden’s seal. Deuce silences the questions on the tip of his tongue. For whatever Ace has planned, he’s rather not know anything more troublesome than necesscary.
What he failed to account for was getting caught. Housewarden Riddle was beyond furious for what they did. It was only by Trey and Cater's gentle reminders that what they did was for all of them, that he only calmed down.
Deuce supposes three days with the collar is better than a week. Even if it is a heavy thing that weighs on his very soul.
He only hopes that you don't notice the thorns they forgot to trim.
—
It’s a given that although Trey is the right hand of Heartslabyul, Cater is considered the left hand of Housewarden Riddle. It’s been that way since Deuce himself enrolled in NRC, and possibly even further back. He hadn’t understood it quite then, but after some time, he realized something that he should’ve realized a long time ago.
To never get on Cater’s bad side.
There are events where the five of them gather outside of Yuu’s influence. Administrative meetings, monthly tea parties, and the occasional casual hang out. When you’re aware of how much of your life is affected from being not like the others, it’s common to side with those who are like you.
Cater had called the meeting this time. It was a bit out of the blue, at least for him and Ace. It’s only when they’re all gathered around the playing table in the lounge, not another soul in sight, when Deuce realizes Cater has that gleam in his eye. One that screams that he got a viral lead on a hot topic. His upperclassman must have been investigating.
"Remember how mirrors are considered to be portals?"
Deuce's neck prickles.
"Your point, Cater?" Their housewarden is impatient, not aware of what the question poses. His arms are crossed with his eyebrows furrowed in a frustrated glare. Deuce realizes that he must have been the one to send out Cater.
"There's a mirror in the prefect's bedroom." Deuce blurts out, and Riddle’s steely eyes snap over in surprise. Cater nods in affirmation.
"Yeah. I only managed a glimpse, but Yuu covered their mirror." Cater says.
“Hold on, you went into the prefect’s bedroom? Scratch that, to Ramshackle?” Ace asks. “Why are we just getting this now?”
“Because I just came back Acey,” Cater flicks his forehead, causing Ace to exclaim in pain. Trey smiles faintly at the action. “Also Riddle told me to keep it confidential—you two would have ran straight out if we had told you.”
Deuce sheepishly rubs his neck at Cater’s pointed sentence. Riddle rubs his chin in thoughtfulness, eyebrows still furrowed.
“But there isn’t anything magical about that mirror, is there?” Riddle asks, skepticism coating his tone. “The puppet could have simply covered that mirror out of an odd preference.”
“Acey, didn’t you mention that Yuu always mentioned seeing things in that mirror?” Cater responds, deflecting the question upon his underclassmen. Ace straightens as he and Deuce both exchange a glance.
“Yeah…something about a mouse in their mirror,” Ace answers slowly, face scrunched in an effort to recall memories. “I always thought it was just crazy dreams but…”
“Yuu was always insisting about it,” Deuce chimes in. “Said the mouse speaks to them and everything—that there was another world it was in.”
Trey and Cater share a furtive glance together before looking at Riddle. Their housewarden seems to be taking in the new information, closing his eyes in thought. For a while, no one dares to speak.
“What do you think, Riddle?” Trey finally breaks the heavy silence, and Deuce breathlessly releases a sigh. Leave it to Trey to speak for all of them.
“If the mirror in the bedroom is magical, then that changes things.” Riddle pronounces with conviction. “If that mirror potentially holds a dimension, then that would be the perfect place to trap someone.”
“Cater.” The orange head straightens to attention at the stern command. “Find a way to get the puppet out of the dorm for a while. We’ll need to look into this ourselves.”
Cater smirks and a chill runs down Deuce’s spine. While Cater still has an easy going look, his jade green eyes have darkened with a sadistic gleam.
“Roger that, housewarden!” His upperclassman chirps, already taking out his phone.
Riddle is already barking orders that each of them are to take up within this mission of theirs. But Deuce nearly misses his task, eyes stuck on Cater’s face as he scrolls his phone.
He catches a glimpse of a photo before it’s quickly clicked away. Deuce snaps back to Riddle just in time for Cater to shoot him a wary glare, checking to make sure no one else was looking.
Deuce is very glad he is working together with Cater.
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