Archive of Our Own

Romantic love has always been a puzzle to Riddle. He had never experienced it, and he did not precisely witness a great example of it on his own parents. Once, he tried to read a book about it, but it never sat right with him.

Cater always talked about how falling in love is the greatest feeling of them all —even though Riddle never saw him date anyone, and he said that nobody should finish their third year without experiencing the horrors of teenage love.

The advice, of course, was not taken. Riddle clearly preferred to spend his free time cataloging some restricted potions with professor Crewel for extra credits, as if he needed it, instead of wandering the school in hopes of love crashing right into his face.

“Although this one is labeled as a love potion, it wasn’t brewed to inspire affection. It draws out what’s already there and distorts it until it can’t be denied,” The teacher explained as Riddle finished labeling some other vials.

“Like a catalyst” Riddle murmured to himself, but Crewel hummed in approval.

“Precisely, it takes one strong state or emotion on a individual and it twists it into its rawest form. Soldiers used to take it on the field as a last resort to enhance their desperation to live and go berserker.”

Riddle shuddered at the image on his head, frowning. “Sounds dangerous.”

“And that’s why it is restricted, Mr. Rosehearts. A bad move and a student who slightly hates another one could end committing homicide.”

“So… you label it as a love potion to prevent further curiosity if someone happens to find it”

“Clever as ever, Mr. Rosehearts. Label it as a love potion, but do remember to put the warning label on it too. I won’t be at school for the following two weeks and I don’t want curious puppies lurking around my dangerous potions.”

Riddle nodded as he silently continued his work. To be honest, he´d never attempted to brew a love potion. Contrary to popular belief, they were not so popular between the students. Love potions had fame of being extremely fleeting: to maintain its effects, one should constantly feed the potion to the victim like a weak poison. At the end, it would take too much effort to use it to its original purpose. Because of that, love potions were usually used just for a couple of pranks every full moon.

Denying to be curious would be a lie, though. Riddle sometimes thought about ingesting a love potion himself, just to feel the effects of the so-called love, to understand why people goes utterly insane over it, but it was far too troublesome a idea. He just kept fantasizing about it, giving himself ideas based on the symptoms he read out of every potion label.
Perhaps it was fate, perhaps just the worst of sinful mistakes… maybe —just maybe, it was Riddle’s subconscious, but that day, the most dangerous of potions, labeled as a silly love one, ended up on the box of potions that the school provided to Octavinelle, for Azul’s research.

And fate, of course, was in charge of what happened next. For whereas the Leech twins got the boxes into the lounge, it was precisely Floyd Leech who drank half of it under Jade’s playful dare.

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On Floyd’s defense, working at the lounge after hours was boring as hell. They were supposed to get the boxes into Azul’s office and leave, but seriously, it had been the dullest day and Floyd was just curious about whatever troubles his housewarden had been getting into.

The most interesting box was, of course, locked. According to Azul, it was for a reason.

“Dangerous, disorganized, and entirely above your clearance, Floyd, do not touch anything. These are things I use for our contracts and cannot be tested just for the fun of it.”

Naturally, Floyd had touched everything. A lock was never a rival to him, after all. 

Inside, there was mostly the usual: potions that Azul kept behind his office. Some truth serums, things for cosmetics, one or another weak poison people used to get sick and skip classes in desperate times… and a cerulean blue vial with gold undertones, suspiciously mesmerizing, moving on its own inside the little bottle.

“Never seen this one.” Floyd said, showing it to Jade. “Hey, don’t ya think it goes with our eyes?”

“It does have an interesting color.”

Floyd read the label, written in a familiar, fancy font. Love potion, unstable.

"Eh? A love potion? Why’d Azul want somethin’ like that? Thought his spells were far more effective than this shit" 

Jade shot him a curious glance, noticing how small the bottle was. “And it seems like it is a sample”

Floyd smiled playfully. “Hey, Jade. Remember that time I made ya drink a love potion without noticing?”

“Ah, it was a rather troublesome prank,” Jade said. “Mostly to Azul”

“From all the people, I didn’t expect ya to fall for him. That was fucking creepy.” Floyd teased

“Now, now… Don’t pretend you wouldn’t. After all, he’s likely the closest to you. Next to me, of course.”

“Yeah, but I have taste, ya know."

Jade lifted one of his eyebrows in response, daring Floyd to open up the vial with the suspicious love potion. It looked pretty, harmless. It smelled bitter, but it somehow had sweet undertones, like honey in the type of tea he so much hated.

It also smelled fresh, floral. Like roses.

A little like how Riddle’s hair smelled when he got too close.

Ugh, he could feel where all this was going. But hey, at least it was not to Azul.

Whatever. Love potions wear off in a couple of hours anyway. Floyd would sleep it off. 

He drank half of the vial. The equal of a small sip to him.

The effect was not instant, which was already weird for a love potion. There was no swooning, no fireworks, no hearts floating over his head or a cringey impulse of going and write poems about someone, anyone.

Just… a flicker. A low hum behind his teeth. He felt slight tingle across his tongue, and then the kind of silence within his body that made him uneasy.

Nothing at all. It didn’t taste like anything either.

Lame. The day had ended as boring as it had started. Both Leeches finished carrying the boxes to Azul’s office, disappointed.

However, when exiting the place, they passed Riddle by. Heartslabyul’s housewarden was looking for Azul to talk about some meeting, too wary of having to step any closer to Octavinelle.

The twins just walked next to Riddle in their walk across the hall. It was just a glimpse, a flash of red accompanied by the usual glare Riddle gave the Leeches. Riddle turned his head mid-step, his red locks of hair bouncing slightly as he adjusted his collar, a gesture almost imperceptible.

But to Floyd, it felt like slow-motion. He noticed every tiny detail. 

Pretty, he thought. But that was normal, wasn’t it? Riddle was always pretty, objectively speaking. 

At that thought, Floyd felt a weird emptiness on his stomach, as if the liquid of the potion had just reached his insides and settled in. He stopped walking, astonished, but Riddle didn’t even look his away.

The eel did not blink for too long, his chest felt tight, and when Riddle finally, finally looked over, it was as if the world fully stopped.

“Why are you staring at me?” Riddle asked, his never-ending scowl painted on his face.

“I dunno.” Floyd said, dumbfounded. “You’re lookin’ real shiny right now. Like, super sparkly, golfishie.” 

Riddle blinked, not expecting that answer. The surprise made him overlook the famous nickname he despised so much. “Excuse me?”

Floyd tilted his head. The world was too bright, the air too hot. He did not want to tease golfishie, he did not feel like being difficult or chasing him down the hallway.

It’s the love potion. Floyd scowled, confirming his suspicions. 

The eel left the hall as fast as he could, all under the amused look of Jade and Riddle’s confused one.

That night, he couldn’t sleep.

He sprawled in bed, one arm flung over his face, trying not to think about anyone in particular. But every time Floyd shut his eyes, golfishie appeared again, pressed against a sunlit window, brushing chalk from his gloves, lips pursed. Frowning. Always frowning.

Floyd groaned. “This is stupid,” he muttered into his pillow. “He’s annoying, tiny, loud, bossy… Like a red puffy fish with a stick up his—” He sat up fast. Because even thinking that made his chest ache.

Never boring, he’s never boring. 

The eel pressed his hands against his heart. This shit is strong, certainly not how he planned his night to be.

Luckily, it would all end in the morning.

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It had been a peaceful week for Riddle.

A far too peaceful week.

At first, Heartslabyul’s housewarden thought that Floyd was mocking him, again. But was it a new technique? The eel did not tease, mock or overall approach him, not at all. Riddle thought that Floyd was bothering him with that unsettling feeling of stillness, the waiting for an annoyance that would never arrive.

Floyd just stared at him. It was honestly unnerving. At least until Leech started to avoid him at all costs. 

The passing of notes and throwing of paper balls in the few classes they shared ceased. Riddle should have been relieved that Floyd had finally got bored of him. Instead, he just frowned and said nothing, he refused to acknowledge the weird feeling inside his chest. He did not miss Floyd’s fleeting encounters like Jade had suggested some time ago.

It angered him so much how he started to pay more attention to Floyd. The way the eel lingered outside Heartslabyul’s mirror before walking towards Octavinelle’s, how his smile vanished the second Riddle looked at him, how his fingers twitched when Riddle passed too close.

And the worst of it: when they did cross glances, and Floyd looked nothing like himself. No cruel grin, not teasing giggle. Just silence. His eyes were too sharp, his stare too long. Too hungry.

Riddle shivered, wondering if he'd done anything to anger the eel. It could not keep going like that, he had to talk to Floyd, as much as it upset him to confess it had worried him.

“If you intend to ambush me or fight me, then do so already. I’m growing tired of your petty games." Riddle confronted him. "Whatever grievance you have against me, just say it and stop behaving like a child."

Floyd apparently snapped out of his trance, surprised. For a moment, he blinked and said nothing.

The eel’s hands were trembling terribly, his face blushed as in a fever.

Weird.

“Golfishie… I—” he tried, his strained voice taking Riddle by surprise.

“…Are you unwell?” Riddle frowned, most of his annoyance disappearing at the moment.

Floyd didn't answer, he simply stepped forward, causing Riddle to step back instinctively.

The eel looked completely mad, but no in his usual, playful way. More as if he was actually trying to intimidate Riddle.

“I don’t wanna scare you,” he whispered, his actions contradicting what he’d said.

“You’re not,” the housewarden stated sharply. “But your behavior is not appropriate.”

“You are scared,” Floyd said softly. “I can see it. You’ve been starin’ at me like I’m some crazy wild mer or somethin’”

“You’ve been acting strange for days now.”

Floyd took a breath before confessing. “…I drank something.”

Riddle froze. “What do you mean?”

“A love potion. Didn’t know what it was,” his voice cracked. “It was blue. Kinda pretty… Stupid.”

Riddle stared at him. “You drank a love potion?”

Floyd gave a miserable little laugh. “Yeah.”

“And it—” Riddle stopped. “Is it me?”

Floyd nodded, slowly. “It’s always you.”

Riddle’s heart hammered. And Floyd, with that wild look, stepped closer again, more desperate this time.

“You’re toying with me again, it is not me. It could never be me."

“Couldn’t stay away,” Floyd insisted. “Tried, I swear. But I wake up starvin’ for ya. I hear your voice and I shake. You smile and it’s like—bam! I’m gonna drop dead right there.” Riddle’s throat tightened. “I’ve tried to avoid you. I’ve tried to burn it out. I’ve tried everything.” Floyd’s hands trembled, he looked  even more upset the more he talked. “But it’s just gettin’ worse.” He looked at Riddle, broken and open, and whispered. “Golfishie, please help me.”

Riddle stood frozen. His heart pounded like a warning in his chest, but he didn’t run. Didn’t speak. He just stared at Floyd.

Floyd, begging. Floyd, speaking so seriously Riddle barely believed it was him.

“…All right.”

Floyd blinked. “What?”

“I said all right,” Riddle repeated, voice low and kind of annoyed. “You asked for help, and I’m not going to leave you like this… but I swear Floyd, if this is another joke I—“ Floyd’s eyes flickered wide. For a moment, he looked almost afraid. Riddle ceased his following speech, understanding how helpless should Floyd feel. He sat beside the eel. Not close, but not too far, just enough  that anyone who saw them would be surprised from their sudden closseness. “How long has it been since you drank it?”

 “I dunno. Few days? Maybe a week. Time’s weird right now." Floyd rubbed his eyes. "Love potions shouldn’t last this long, right?”

Riddle shuddered at the last statement. It couldn't be, right?

“…What are your Symptoms?”

Floyd gave a weak laugh. “Everything?. Can’t eat, can’t sleep… When I don’t see ya, it’s like I’m suffocating. When I do see ya, I feel like I’m gonna crawl out of my own fuckin’ skin.”

“That’s not love,” Riddle said quietly. Not that he was an expert, but love isn’t supposed to be this suffocating, he guessed.

It was more like an obsession.

It was bad, Crewel was not currently at school. Besides, it could not be anyone else’s fault but Riddle’s. He was the last one to have the potion around. How could've he mess up everything so badly, when he was so careful?

“I know,” Floyd’s voice cracked. “I know. That’s what makes it worse.”

Riddle looked at him and saw it: the tightness in his jaw, the hollowness beneath his eyes, the way his body coiled. Not just lovesick. Sick. And beneath it all, there was something honest. Something helpless. A look Riddle couldn't quite tell how it made him feel.

“I think I have an idea on what it is…" Riddle exhaled, slowly. "It’s unstable. And it corrupts emotional memory. You’re feeling something real, but it’s being twisted. Fed back into itself. You can’t trust your instincts right now.”

Floyd was quiet, very and eerily quiet.

Riddle reached out and hesitated midway. Then, touched Floyd's wrist gently.

Floyd flinched. “…What are you doing?”

“I’m staying with you tonight, in case it gets worse. I’ll help you through it, I can brew a partial suppressant if I investigate the potion a little bit more." Riddle’s voice was low. "And then we’ll get you the cure, when I consult professor Crewel next week. But until then…”

A shudder traveled all across Riddle’s body, Floyd’s gaze interrupting his words. The eel looked at him like he was the only thing around, his mismatched eyes barely visible through the pool of his wide pupils. It was too much to handle.

“Ya got me.” Floyd finished his sentence for him, and, for a moment, it seemed like he was himself again.

“Yeah,” Riddle cleared his throat. “I got you. Now, I thinks it is better if we stay at Heartslabyul. I have my notes there and it’ll be more comfortable.” He said, standing up and deviating his eyes, and his thoughts, to another place. “Now, that you’re not in your senses does not spare you from breaking the rules so—“

“Golfishie?” Floyd called him again.

“Don’t call me—“ Riddle started by reflex, but sighed at the end. “What is it?”

“…Don’t let me wreck ya.”

“You won’t,” Riddle frowned, not quite understanding what Floyd meant, how badly he wanted to take him and destroy him in a completely unique way. “And, for the record… I won’t guarantee I won’t use all the things you are saying against you when you get back to normal.”

Floyd snorted, but it sounded breathless, almost fascinated. “Fair”

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Heartslabyul after hours was kind of cozy. Not as much as Octavinelle, of course, but it was a starter. Apparently, without dozens of students to scold for breaking the rules, Riddle was mostly normal. 

The chandelier above Riddle’s room creaked, swaying slightly with the wind that curled through the opened window. It was raining a little bit, and the sound of droplets against the glass was making Floyd anxious in the silence of the night. Riddle was sitting at a corner desk, trying to read a banned potions textbook for the fifth time. But he couldn’t focus. Not when Floyd was near.

Floyd, shaking his leg anxiously as he tightened his hands like holding something back. He'd recovered some semblance of himself, but Riddle could see just how much it was taking for him to succeed. The eeel was sitting in a fancy red chair, arms lazily folded, watching Riddle like he was something delicate in a glass cage.

“You read so slow, golfishie.” Floyd drawled. “If I stared a book that long, I’d get bored enough to eat it.”

“Perhaps you’d benefit from doing just that,” Riddle said without looking up. He thought that, perhaps if he maintained their usual dynamic, it would make it easier for Floyd to not fancy him. “You might finally stop talking.”

Floyd’s laughter echoed sweetly. “So mean! Just like this the first time we talked… Remember?”

Riddle’s hand tensed on the page. “You made me collar you with your disrespect.”

“Ya yelled at me.” Floyd leaned over his place, chin resting on his palm. “Cutest sound I’ve ever heard.”

“You’re not charming.”

Bickering, just like we always do, Riddle thought. Nothing needs to get awkward. 

“I don’t wanna be charming,” Floyd’s voice dipped. “I wanna be yours.”

The words hit like a slammed door. Riddle looked up sharply, heart pounding against his ribs.  Well, at least he'd tried.

“Floyd, you’re under the influence of something you don’t understand.”

“I understand you,” Floyd said, grin lazy and lopsided as he emphasized his words. “Since the first time I saw ya, I got your secret side. That’s what drives ya crazy, right? What makes me so annoying… You don’t like being seen.”

Riddle stood. “You don’t see me. You were curious about me, at best. Probably because you enjoy getting under my skin. Then the potion, not a love potion might I add, twisted it to a weird, lovesick obsession. Now, can you please be quiet for a while so I can fix this?”

He meant to walk away, he tried. But Floyd was already there. Close, too close, his height casting Riddle in shadow.

Dangerously close, Riddle remarked inside his head.

“Tell me to stop,” Floyd said softly, fingertips brushing Riddle’s gloved hand as if it would burn to hold it.

Riddle’s breath caught. The room was silent now except for the rain and the hard thumps of his heart.  He pressed the book against his chest to try and hide his heartbeat, as if that could solve anything.

“I don’t have to say it,” he whispered. “You’ll lose interest eventually.”

Floyd’s smile vanished. For a brief moment, he looked almost wounded.

“Ya really think I’m just playing?” the eel murmured with that deep tone of voice he used when he got serious. “Riddle… I don’t do this for anyone else. I didn’t chose anyone else to rule me like I want you to.”

Riddle faltered. His name in Floyd’s voice didn’t sound like mockery, didn’t sound like an insult. It didn’t sound bad at all.

“You’re delusional.”

Outside, some thunder cracked. And for one aching second, neither of them moved.

Then Floyd pulled away, slow and painful and careful, like peeling back a bandage that had fused to skin.

“Fine,” he said, his voice lighter again. “Read all the books ya want."

And he went to sit back at the red chair, leaving Riddle alone with his shaking hands and the sick realization that he did not want Floyd to stop. 

Why? If he hated Floyd. He hated his stupid grin, his terribly ominous laugh, his carefree demeanor… Riddle hated Floyd so much he avoided him at all costs on the hallways, not only because the eel was annoying —which he was, truly—, but also because of the way Riddle’s blood pressure skyrocketed every single time they met each other.

Then why? Why of all people at NRC it had to be him? 

And why, why in the great sevens Floyd had to fall for him when he drank that stupid potion?

“This is not working,” Riddle said as he casted the book aside on his desk. “There is no information about this potion, I don’t even have its name. All I know is because of professor Crewel and he’s not even here... I have to tell someone else, perhaps professor Trein.” He trembled at the realization. “I’m going to get suspended, If I’m lucky.”

“Why won’t ya just let me love ya?” Floyd whispered like a scolded puppy from his corner. “Maybe I just gotta let all these icky feelin’s spill outta me to go back to normal. Maybe that’s how this stupid love potion works”

“Because this is not a love potion, Floyd.” Riddle repeated himself. “You weren’t supposed to take it. You weren’t supposed to feel this… much.”

“Maybe I already did." Floyd frowned. "The way you hold your teacup, that scrunch in your brow when you’re readin’, that tiny scar on your thumb from cuttin’ parchment too fast… I keep seein’ it all, over and over, like a film repeating in my head. But none of that’s new, is it? I noticed all of it before. Maybe it was always you, I’ve always seen ya.”

“No, Floyd. All about us is just a joke, a game to you, remember? This isn’t...” Riddle stopped before continuing, not knowing if he meant the potion or his own feelings. 

“I know,” Floyd replied, frustrated. “It stopped being fun like three days ago.”

Riddle sighed, giving up.

He approached Floyd and offered him a hand to stand up.

“I apologize," Riddle said. "I did not want to admit this… but it’s all my fault.”

Floyd stared at him in silence for a couple of seconds, a uncharacteristic pitiful look on his face. He was commiserating Riddle, his mismatched eyes soft as he cupped one of Riddle’s cheeks with one of his hands.

“Ah, golfishie…” The eel started, and Riddle instantly missed the way in which he'd said his actual name before. The housewarden leaned into the touch without noticing. “I don’t really care. Is it bad? I think I’d do anything for ya right now. Doesn’t that makes sense? I’d ruin everything for you. Burn the sea dry. I’d even cut my smile off if ya told me to.”

Riddle closed his eyes, gently speaking. “You need help.” 

Floyd looked up at him like a man being offered sunlight for the first time in years. “And are you going to help me?”

“Yes. I’ll help you,” Riddle answered, taking Floyd hand on his own to softly get it off his face. “But you really have to listen to me.”

Floyd leaned closer, eyes flicking over Riddle’s face like he was memorizing a constellation in a dark night at the sea. “Ya think I’m broken because I love ya too much?”

“You don’t know what love is." Riddle tried to explain once more. "You’re infatuated. Delirious. There’s a difference.”

“I know I’d rip out my own heart if it made you smile. Isn’t that close enough?”

Riddle’s breath caught on his throat. For some reason, he knew Floyd would definitely do that without a doubt.

Floyd usually imposed, he was one of the students most people were afraid of. But right know, he was just standing there. Yes, he taller than Riddle. Broader too. Yet he didn't crow him, he was just waiting.

The room was so quiet that Riddle could hear his own heartbeat. He could smell Floyd’s skin, like sun and salt. Giving Floyd hopes was not a good idea, but he still stepped forward, reaching up with his gloved hand. 

There was another moment of hesitation, but then, Riddle's hand pressed gently against Floyd’s chest. Not to push him away, just to feel the pulse there. 

Too erratic. 

“Take off your shirt,” Riddle ordered in a whisper.

Floyd blinked. “Huh?”

“I’m going to check your vitals,” Riddle said crisply, blood pounding in his ears, trying not to flush at the realization he'd been too blunt. “I’m still concerned about the potion’s effects. I’ll let you sleep here and I’ll sleep in Cater’s room, but I’m not leaving until I’m sure it’s safe.”

Floyd’s grin slowly returned, it was both lazy and expectant at the same time. “Sure, doctor goldie, I’ll be good.”

The eel stripped his uniform shirt over his head, and let it drop to the floor without any care. Scars ran across his ribs, some old, some recent, akin to claws of merpeople.

Riddle tried not to stare too long. He pressed his hand to Floyd’s heart again, counting silently. Even if he sometimes resented it, all the medical knowledge that his mother gave him was useful sometimes, like now. He silently noted the rise and fall of Floyd’s chest, did the math. Then again, he moved his fingers to the eel’s throat.

The skin there was smooth, warm under his fingers. His gloves suddenly itched, so he peeled one off and touched Floyd’s skin with bare fingers.

The concentrated frown on Riddle’s face showed how he had no other intentions, but still Floyd couldn’t help but shudder.

“Your pulse is fast,” Riddle murmured.

“Yeah, cause you’re touching me.”

“I’m assessing you.”

“You’re tempting me. That’s gotta worsen up the symptoms, golfishie.”

A heavy silence flooded the room. What in the Sevens am I doing? Riddle thought.

“…Fine, maybe you’re right.  I think I might also not be in my senses.” Riddle admitted, trying to get his hands off Floyd, but the eel held him there with his own. “Great Sevens. I’m tired... and I shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”

Riddle knew. He was not there to fix Floyd, he was there because some secret part of him had panicked at the idea of Floyd losing interest in him.

Because when Floyd told that it was him whom he fell for, he felt a spark of hope. 

Some part of him wanted to stay. Floyd’s chest rose and fell under Riddle’s touch. Heartslabyul’s housewarden could barely do anything under that breathless tension, his fingers trembling against his will.

Floyd didn’t move, he didn’t dare. He just looked down at Riddle like he always did now, like Riddle was the sea and the sun and he held his heart on his palm.

“Then don’t,” Floyd said. “Walk away. Be the noble and lawful little golfishie you are. Don’t break the rules.”

Riddle’s fingers slid to Floyd’s collarbone, then the side of his neck. He could feel the blood pounding there, loud and hot. 

Not breaking the rules…

“I don’t want to be lawful,” Riddle confessed with a vulnerable tone, his voice cracked on it. “Not right now.”

After that, Floyd couldn't hold back anymore. He leaned in, he kissed Riddle like he had something to prove: how much had he proudly contain himself, how much had he waited and denied himself this.

Floyd, as usual, did not hesitate. One of his hands held the back of Riddle’s neck, the other one gripped the smallest’s waist with needy strength, as if Riddle were to disappear. 

Riddle gasped against Floyd’s mouth, and he swallowed it whole.

It was all so wrong. Floyd bite Riddle’s lip and then laughed into the kiss. The housewarden put his hand on Floyd’s chest again before it kept going, trying to separate himself from it all, but not really putting effort into it.

“You’re impossible,” Riddle breathed, dizzy. “You’re—”

“Yours,” Floyd said, drunk on him. “I’m yours. Say the word and I’ll—”

Don’t. " Riddle grabbed his face with both hands, stopping him from continuing with this madness. "I’m supposed to be the sane one.”

Floyd grinned, finally, finally, in a playful way. “Yeah? How are ya doing with that?”

It took a godly strength of will to leave after that, but Riddle managed to do it.

He'd washed his hands thoroughly, three times to be precise, before going to Cater’s room (free for the night, since he’d had some sort of sleepover with Trey). Yet, he could still feel Floyd’s skin. The warmth, so uncharacteristic of the eel, who was normally cold when he teased Riddle around the school. 

Even if Riddle pressed his fingertips together, he could not chase the memory away. He was going mad. It was Floyd who took the potion, not him. Floyd was the one under a spell, Floyd was the one who could not control himself… Then why, why was Riddle spiraling?

The kiss... It had been the most brief of physical unions. And still, it had been his first. Riddle’s knees had buckled, trembled even. Not because of the event, but from the way in which Floyd had looked at him after, like he was holy, a higher power or entity. Nobody had ever expressed such… devotion to him, not even if he represented a figure of authority.

The fact that it was Floyd who presented himself to Riddle like that… it ignited so many emotions within him: guilt, surprise, fear. 

And it was all the result of a potion. It wasn’t real. Floyd was just obsessed with a false idea of perfection on him, and he'd been naively drawn into the idea of someone finally seeing no flaws on his imperfect image.

That’s all.

If he continued to try and look for something else there, it would all end terribly.

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Floyd went through another sleepless night.

He was buzzing, boiling inside. He lay on his back in the darkness of the room, breathing heavy at the sole information that he was to sleep in golfishie’s bed. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Riddle’s mouth, the way it moved when he said his name, the way it shook when he kissed him.

The kiss had been real. That much he knew. But now it replayed inside his head like an hallucination, over and over and over again, with variations that twisted around his thoughts like seaweed: Riddle trembling, Riddle laughing, Riddle pressing him down and whispering that he wanted him. All of it he desired to experience. It was not enough, never enough.

His fingers ached with the memory of holding Riddle’s waist, how narrow had it feel, how breakable, how his. Floyd exhaled through his teeth, eyes wide open in the dark.

During the past days, the potion had not been even a little percentage of how bad it was at the moment. After tasting a little bit of those cherry flavored lips, after being surrounded by the scent and presence of Riddle entirely, Floyd was truly on the brink of insanity.

Even in the dark, he could feel Riddle. Like static under his skin, like an invisible string violently yanking him toward something inevitable. Floyd was but a fish trapped by a human, watching his owner through the smallest of glass windows, happily basking in the few minutes of attention he received.

Floyd was a prisoner, but he also wanted to held Riddle captive. It was maddening.

And it was thrilling, too.

Just as if he'd not sleep at all either, Riddle entered his room first thing in the morning. He'd already visited Octavinelle and updated Jade and Azul on the news, besides, he'd managed to recover what had remained of the potion Floyd drank.

“This is the last thing I’ll try,” Riddle stated. He was dressed on his housewarden attire, hauntingly beautiful, carrying himself with the authority and confidence he'd lost the day before. He was going to be Floyd’s death. “I’ve managed to get the lab free for us during lunchtime. I had to lie and say it was for a tutoring session on chemistry with you, but it’ll had to do. I’m going to examine you and the potion. If I cannot solve this by the afternoon, then I’ll confess everything to professor Trein and get over this. Have any complaints?”

Floyd blinked at him, startled. “I don’t if you don't?"

“Good, then. Get dressed.” Riddle ordered. He turned to the door and stopped there for a moment, hesitating, with his back to Floyd. “What I did yesterday was a mistake. I let myself be ruled by my emotions and I took advantage of the situation. It won’t happen again.”

“Uh," Floyd frowned. "I’m pretty sure ya meant it.”

“I did not,” the housewarden hurried to clarify. “You were— you are under the influence of a potion. There is nothing else to it.”

A terrifying anger, so raw, boiled inside Floyd. He felt the need to get up and hold Riddle closer to him, to kiss him senseless until he would admit how badly he wanted him too. But Riddle, like reading his mind, hurried to leave the room.

Something was wrong. Riddle’s fingers trembled terribly bad when he held the door before exiting the room.

Floyd hurried to dress himself and followed him into the lab room.

Riddle’s studies went wrong in all the possible ways. He was stressed, more than usual, and all red on the face. Every time Floyd spoke or made a flirtatious comment, the housewarden exploded in anger and had to leave the room to wind down.

The next time Riddle tried to escape, Floyd held him by the wrist.

“You’re runnin’ away again…Is it really that bad, bein’ near me?”

“I’m… not running away,” Riddle said. “I just can’t breath in this room.”

“Uh?” The eel stared at the window of the lab room. “It’s been rainin’ all day, hasn’t it? You want me to fix it or somethin’?”

“You're making me insane.” Riddle sighed, carefully slipping his hand out of Floyd’s grip.

“Well, that makes it the two of us.” Floyd said, pushing Riddle playfully with his shoulder. “But ya like it, at least I think so.”

Floyd had thought Riddle would not fall into his provocations again, he'd made it quite clear.

Nonetheless, Riddle just stared at him for a long full second before finally snapping. Riddle kissed him.

He held Floyd by his shirt and pulled him down, kissing him hard, desperate. It was rougher this time, less restrained than the day before. Riddle shoved the eel against the wall like he was fighting him, or maybe trying to fight the parts of himself that wanted this.

Floyd just moaned, grabbing Riddle’s hips as he pulled him closer, closer still. All his body felt on fire, alert. He knew that, if Riddle did not stop this, he would not hold back, he would not think through.

Riddle’s heartbeat thundered in his ears, and suddenly Floyd was everything: the shape of his mouth, the curve of his neck, the scent of him. Riddle clutched at him like he was slipping down a cliff and Floyd was the only thing left to hold. 

“I think…” Riddle gasped, but he could not bring himself to part away of Floyd’s mouth for too long. “I think it’s your spit. We shared the potion yesterday with the kiss. I tried to hold myself back until I found an antidote, but it’s just... too much.”

Floyd listened to him. How could he not? If every word coming out of Riddle’s mouth was holy, divine law wrapped in velvet, meant to be worshipped, obeyed, and burned into him like sacred fire. He now understood Riddle’s devotion to the red queen, the need of following all those rules, the urge to listen. But he could not bring himself to care about whatever effect the potion was making on both of them now, he just dedicated all his attention to redirect his kisses down to Riddle’s jaw and neck, everywhere he could.

They stumbled as Riddle gave a louder sigh every time, sighs of relief, from what Floyd could gather. Their figures crashed against a shelf, books down to the floor. Floyd pushed Riddle up onto one of the lab tables, knocking aside Riddle’s notes and breaking one or two flasks.

“Say it,” Floyd murmured, voice wobbly and impossibly lower. “Say you want me too.”

“I want you,” Riddle gasped, some deep part of his brained got alarmed at the sincerity of his voice, surprised at the honesty spilling out of him without any filter, any restraint. “I want you, I want you, I—”

“Keep sayin’ it…” Floyd’s grin wavered, eyes glassy as he buried his head inside of the crook on Riddle’s neck. “Lie if ya gotta—I don’t care. I’ll believe it anyway.”

“It’s not a lie!” Riddle exclaimed. He felt the urge of holding Floyd’s face with both his hands and make him look at him. Because of their position, Floyd was staring up at him, head leaning against Riddle’s chest as he rested both of his hands at the housewarden’s sides. He looked helpless. “I don’t know when this started…perhaps I was clinging to the need of hating you, because this is all too new for me. But right now, I need— I wish with all my being for this to be real.”

“Riddle…” The mention of his name made Riddle choke out on air. He put his fingers between Floyd’s messy strands of teal hair, tugging and playing softly with them. “You’ve got real nice hands, y’know that? Mmm… and you smell like rosewater ‘n old books.” He leaned in, voice low and lazy. “Didja know that? ‘Cause I do.” 

Carefully, Floyd pulled Riddle by the waist and helped him stand up, getting him out of the table. The eel remained kneeling.

Because of the difference in their heights, Floyd's still was still pretty much pressed against Riddle’s chest. They stayed like that for a moment, maybe hours, Riddle peacefully thinking as he toyed with Floyd’s hair and the eel listened to his heartbeats.

It started to leak out of them by degrees, like color draining from water, like ink fading from paper.

Floyd suddenly felt something… off.

There was no ache in his chest, no fire poking behind his eyes, his hands didn’t tremble with the need to touch Riddle and choke on his name just to feel alive.

All of sudden, there was only quiet.

Floyd opened his eyes slowly, frowning, and pressed his hand to his chest. The silence in there was wrong.

He separated himself from Riddle, carefully, like waking up from a trance. His hunger, once needing to chew Riddle down and bite him until it bleed, now flickered like a dying ember.

It had stopped.

Riddle touched his hand. Floyd stared at it, remembering how it used to make him ache, lit him on fire. Now it just felt… warm.  Nice, familiar. But not divine.

“Floyd?” Riddle’s voice was soft, searching. “Are you all right?”

Floyd’s looked at him and realized that he still liked him, still wanted him. The dim light from one of the lab lamps gave Riddle a warm tone like a campfire at the shores of a beach, the housewarden looked so cozy, disheveled, his uniform all messed up. It was a rare sight, beautiful nonetheless, but he wasn’t a god anymore. The madness had died down and it had left Floyd empty in places he didn’t know existed.

“I think,” Floyd said slowly, almost curious. "You don’t hurt me anymore.”

Riddle’s felt his stomach sink. “What do you mean?”

Floyd laughed, almost gentle. “Don’t feel like dyin’ for ya anymore, Goldfishie…” he muttered, letting his head fall back, still kneeling on the floor. “I just wanna… sit here.” 

With you

Riddle’s expression twisted, something in him shattered quietly.

“Is that better?” he asked. “Now that it’s fading?”

“Do you want the truth?”

“Yes.”

He looked him in the eye. “No. I think I’ll miss being crazy for ya”

.

.

.

The sound of Riddle’s heels echoed across Octavinelle’s halls, but his heartbeat was louder inside his own ears.

As usual, Riddle was there to deliver some paperwork to Azul, normal things after housewarden meetings, nothing special. But it was the first time he stepped into Octavinelle after the… love potion incident.

When Floyd recovered his senses, he stared at Riddle in disbelief, eyes wide open, and left the lab as quickly as he could.

The morning after, Riddle felt like himself again. Probably the effects of the potion had been weaker on him because he did not drink it directly from the bottle.

Is not that he hadn’t seen Floyd since then, they crossed each other quite often in the hallways, but it was awkward beyond repair. The eel still tried to bother him somehow, and Riddle answered with his usual aggression every time, but it felt odd, not quite tense as it did before. Maybe because, just like Riddle, Floyd could no entirely erase the memories of the previous days.

Riddle hated the way the silence echoed now, he’d thought he would feel relief when the potion faded, but it was the opposite.

He’d told himself it was for the best, but now Floyd looked at him with clarity, sometimes with that bored look, and the ache in Riddle’s throat wouldn’t go away. He missed the unbearable weight of Floyd’s gaze, the madness, the devotion, the way Riddle had felt like a god held between trembling hands.

It was twisted, shameful. To want that kind of love, to want love at all.

“Ah, I leave this to you, then.” Azul interrupted his thoughts. “I’ll probably ask Jade to deliver these papers to Trey when he sees him later.”

Riddle nodded. “Alright. Thank you.”

“Ah, by the way— you happened to see Professor Crewel today?”

“He returned already?”

“This very morning, rumor has it he encountered some trouble." Azul said. "Apparently, he mistakenly mixed his research luggage with Octavinelle’s delivery box before his trip. The one containing that rather troublesome potion, if you recall.”

All of Riddle’s body tensed up at the mention of it. As if he could just not recall it.

“Professor Crewel… did it?”

“Hmm,” Azul hummed in confirmation. “From what I’ve gathered, he assumed full responsibility. As far as I’m aware, he was only required to complete some paperwork to report the misplaced materials since school hasn’t received any reports of incidents." 

“Ah…” Riddle sighed. He felt so relieved he suddenly wanted to cry, he was not going to be expelled or suspended or anything alike.

After exchanging some more pleasantries, sometimes cynical from Azul’s part, Riddle was left alone on the counter of Mostro Lounge. He nursed the tea that Azul had offered him, long gone cold now. He didn’t know why he stayed more time, but he did, just lost in thought.

“I can smell how sour ya are from all the way over here, Goldfishie” Came his voice, lazy and low, like a shark circling close. Floyd slinked out from the shadows behind the bar, tie loose, jacket unbuttoned, smile stretched too wide. His mismatched eyes glinted in the dim light. “What’s gotcha all puckered up today?”

“I’m not in the mood, Floyd.” Riddle frowned without looking at him. “My tea is cold…”

“Hmm… tea is lame anyway. Tastes like plants”

“That’s the point”

Floyd shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. I’m more of eating little fishes.”

“And by little fishes you mean underclass men?” Riddle asked him, a bit angrily. “You got into a fight earlier. With a Heartslabyul freshman.”

“Ugh, that little fish was so annoyin’. Made me wanna squeeze ‘im ‘til he popped,” The eel stretched, dragging out the words with a lazy pout. “But it was cute watching ya get all red in the face when you scolded him, like a cherry about to burst… Missed that look.”

"Perhaps I wouldn’t if people treated things with an ounce of respect." Riddle deviated his eyes to the water tank, toying with a little spoon. "Including you.” 

“But ya like it, don’tcha?” Floyd’s voice dipped low, getting a little bit more serious. “That I don’t listen… that I bite.” 

“You don’t know what I like.”

“I know you came back.”

“I came to see Azul. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Ah, but you stayed ‘til your tea went all cold.” Floyd playfully tilted his head, leaning against the other side of the counter, directly in front of Riddle. “Ain’t that against the rules, goldfishie? You waited for me.”

“I shouldn’t have,” Riddle whispered. “You wreck everything.”

Floyd grinned, all teeth. “That’s what makes it fun.”

Riddle gritted his teeth out of frustration, his face red. He wanted to collar Floyd, to yell at him like he used to do, but every time he looked at his face, he remembered his soft gaze, his careful hands, his warm lips.

The housewarden stood up from his seat, ready to leave. Floyd was right, he had waited for him without a clear reason or intention. 

It was a mistake.

“Hey," Floyd stopped him with his words, a slight anxious ton in his voice. "If I asked ya to give it to me again… Would you?” 

Riddle froze on his place. He did not need to ask what Floyd was talking about. The potion.

Would he do it again?

“…Would you want that?” The housewarden asked without looking back.

“Not want, Goldfishie,” Floyd murmured, voice low and rough, like sharing a secret. “Need. Would you let me need you again?”

The silence that followed was heavy. Riddle thought for a moment before looking back at him, blue eyes sharp, hands trembling.

“No,” he finally confessed. Floyd’s gaze immediately fell down. “I want to know you. Really know you. The devotion… it was nice. But the perfect version of me you saw is not me.”

Floyd quickly approached him, held Riddle’s hand without hesitation, and pressed it against his chest.

Riddle felt the eel's heartbeat again. Thump. thump. thump. It was now steady and healthy, undeniably Floyd’s.

“Thought it’d feel emptier than this, after the potion wore off.” Floyd mumbled, eyes deeply staring into Riddle. The housewarden took a breath. The air was cold, his throat dry. “But nah, doesn’t feel like that at all.”

Riddle met his gaze. “Why?”

“Because I can tell ya still want to be here. You weren’t corresponding me because you felt guilty that I felt this way. You felt guilty because you already liked me. Even before that stupid potion ever touched you,” Following that statement, for the first time, Floyd hesitated when speaking. “And I can tell ya. On my side, no potion, I’m still yours.”

Riddle pulled him closer, like it was instinct. There was no heat in it, no madness, just the quiet and original desire to stay.

“I guess I like you, then,” he said simply.

“Yeah, no shit.” Floyd teased. “I can tell you like me even more than that stupid tea. Way more, if I’m bein’ real.” 

Riddle smiled. “Don’t go too far, tea is sacred.”

Squinting, Floyd took the cup on the counter and gave it a sip. He already planned on saying it was terribly bad and Riddle had just bad taste, but the grimace he made could not be faked. 

“Blegh, it tastes even worse when it’s cold. Seriously, goldfishie. I’m not kissing you after you drink this.” 

A loud, genuine laugh escaped Riddle’s mouth before he even noticed. “Too bad, I drink tea four times a day.”

“Four times?! Ya tryin’ to poison me.” Floyd looked genuinely worried. Riddle couldn’t hold back his laughter again.

“Take it as my payment for all the pranks you’ve pulled on me for the past two years.” 

“You…” Floyd made a playfully menacing face, and Riddle took that as a sign to ran away as he was chased down. For once, Riddle felt like a teenager, as carefree as he had enviously seen Floyd being.

If there was a definition of romantic love, Riddle wanted it to be this. It was messy. It was real.