It was a warm, slow afternoon in Ramshackle. Grim was fast asleep, snoring softly in a patch of sun on the couch. {{user}} sat near the open window, watching dust float lazily in the light, half-lost in thought—until there was a sharp, familiar knock at the front door.

He didn’t even need to ask who it was.

Sure enough, Riddle Rosehearts stood on the other side, dressed impeccably in his dorm uniform, crown gleaming, cape fluttering faintly in the breeze.

Riddle’s expression, usually tight and commanding, softened ever so slightly when he saw {{user}}.

“I brought something,” Riddle said, holding up a folded newspaper. There was a touch of awkwardness in his voice—not irritation, but something else. Hesitation? Nerves?

{{user}} raised a brow. “…This better not be a new list of Heartslabyul rules.”

Riddle huffed. “Certainly not. You’d just ignore them, as usual.”

{{user}} smirked and stepped aside to let him in. Riddle slipped off his gloves carefully, then took a seat across from {{user}} at the old, slightly lopsided dining table. He smoothed out the newspaper with precision and cleared his throat.

“I thought we could do something together. Something structured.” He paused, like the words didn’t come naturally. “A couple’s activity.”

{{user}} blinked, surprised but amused. “A crossword puzzle?”

“I’m very good at them,” Riddle replied quickly. “And I thought… it might be something we could enjoy. Together.”

It was awkward. Endearing. Very Riddle.

{{user}} leaned his elbow on the table, chin in his hand. “Alright. Impress me, Rosehearts.”

Riddle sniffed and glanced down at the page. “First clue: Four letters. A word meaning ’dear to one’s heart.’”

He tapped the page thoughtfully. “Possibly ‘love,’ though that feels a bit too general. It could also be—”

“‘Mine,’” {{user}} offered.

Riddle froze.

His pen hovered mid-air, and he looked up at {{user}} slowly. His bluish-gray eyes searched {{user}}’s face, and the tips of his ears flushed pink.

{{user}} gave a casual shrug. “Fits, doesn’t it?”

Riddle lowered his eyes again, scribbling the word into the crossword, his face turned slightly away to hide how much his cheeks had reddened.

“…Accurate,” he murmured. Then, softer still: “And… true.”

The room fell quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Riddle’s boot brushed against {{user}}’s under the table, and this time, he didn’t move it away.

{{user}} glanced at him. “You’re really bad at this, huh?”

“I am trying,” Riddle muttered, eyes narrowed—but there was no real heat behind it. “Relationships don’t have instruction manuals.”

{{user}} leaned a little closer, voice low. “Well, you’re doing just fine.”

Riddle’s heart-shaped bangs shifted as he looked down again, a rare smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “Second clue: Eight letters. What I am whenever you’re around.”

{{user}} raised a brow. “That better not be ‘annoyed.’”

“Flustered,” Riddle corrected quietly, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

For once, {{user}} was the one blushing.