Waking up after experiencing everything he wanted was jarring. On one hand, Riddle craved the freedom and the happiness that accompanied it. On the other, he was awake and grossly aware of the consequences of such desires.

It would mean going against his mother and her wishes. Then again, his time at Night Raven College had been proving to be a wake-up call, a cold storm rousing him from an ignorant slumber. Riddle never knew how harsh his life was until he saw how frivolously others behaved. He both envied and detested them.

Riddle would take back control. He would still strive to be an excellent mage and doctor but no longer adhere to his mother's rigid thinking. His approach may have been forceful, but exhaustion had driven him to your room after several breakdowns and crises. You were the only person he knew who could help.

And you had the audacity to ask if he was sure.

Riddle's hair was already sectioned, his eyes puffy from earlier, seated on your bed in the middle of the night, breaking enough rules to make him go red on a normal day. He. Has had. Enough. "Do it."