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Riddle Rosehearts had always lived his life by rules, structure, and carefully memorized lists. And yet, somehow, despite every effort, Floyd Leech slithered in through the cracks.
Not crash-landing through his window, not dragging him through the corridor with over enthusiastic pinches, not demanding he skip class to “go play”—
No.
Floyd entered Riddle’s carefully organized life the same way warm sunlight seeps through closed curtains: slow, unexpected, and impossible to ignore.
---
It started with a gift.
A small, handcrafted wind chime, made from bright glass beads and tiny seashells.
No card. No note. Just… left on Riddle’s desk during lunch one day.
“Who would leave something so personal?” Riddle muttered, turning the chime over in his hands.
It wasn’t Heartslabyul-standard. It wasn’t even symmetrical.
But when he lifted it, the sound—soft, tinkling, ocean-kissed—felt oddly comforting.
Trey peered over. “Looks handmade. Maybe someone admires you?”
Admire?
Riddle found that doubtful. Especially with Floyd’s chaotic laughter echoing across the cafeteria that day—
…
Wait.
Riddle stared at the chime again. Seashells… glass tinted like coral reefs…
No. Impossible.
There’s no way Floyd would—
“Do ya like it, Goldfishie?”
Riddle jolted so hard he nearly dropped it. “F–Floyd!? When did you—?!”
Floyd leaned over his shoulder, far too close, chin practically resting on Riddle’s head.
“Heheh. Jade said I should try makin’ somethin’ with my hands instead of ‘breakin’ whatever annoys me.’ So I made that! Does it make cute sounds~?”
Riddle’s ears burned.
“You—you made this… for me?”
“Yep!”
“Why?”
Floyd blinked at him, the way one might look at a particularly stubborn puzzle piece.
“Dunno. Just felt like it.”
Riddle pressed a hand to his chest, trying to calm the startled flutter there.
So… this was how it began.
---
Floyd didn’t court him traditionally.
He didn’t bring roses (too prickly) or sweets (he’d probably eat them before giving them away).
He didn’t whisper sweet nothings.
Instead—
He showed up at Heartslabyul during Riddle’s breaks.
Leaned his entire body weight on him when he was tired.
Squeezed his shoulders just enough to feel comforting instead of crushing.
Called him “Goldfishie” in a tone so fond that even Ace stopped teasing him about it.
And Riddle… didn’t stop him.
He didn’t even want to.
Floyd’s presence, loud and unpredictable, should have been intolerable.
But somehow… it grounded him.
Made his afternoons brighter.
Made his nights quieter.
And when Floyd’s mismatched eyes softened—really softened—it did something to Riddle he could not explain.
One afternoon, as Riddle was reading on the dorm balcony, Floyd climbed in through the railing like it was nothing.
“Riiiiiddle~ Lemme see your face.”
Riddle looked up. “What is it now?”
Floyd sat beside him, dangling his legs over the edge. “You look relaxed. It’s cute.”
“My face is not—”
Floyd booped his nose. “Cute.”
Riddle’s ears turned bright crimson.
“I—I don’t know why you insist on teasing me so much—”
“This isn’t teasing.” Floyd tilted his head. “I just like lookin’ at ya.”
Riddle’s heart stuttered.
He tried to breathe. Failed. Tried again.
“You can’t just say things like that.”
“Why not? They’re true.”
Floyd smiled—slow, gentle, nothing like his usual sharp grin.
Something inside Riddle melted.
---
The Light Music Club was holding a festival night by the lake—paper lanterns floating gently across the water, music drifting through the air.
Riddle planned to attend only briefly.
Floyd, however, grabbed his wrist the moment he saw him.
“Goldfishie! C’mere!”
“H-Hey—!! Let go—Floyd!”
But the eel was already pulling him through the crowd, weaving through students with impossible ease.
They finally stopped beneath a cluster of softly glowing lanterns, reflected like stars in the water.
“Sit with me,” Floyd said, plopping down on the grass.
Riddle hesitated—but then sat, hands on his lap, trying not to tremble when Floyd leaned close.
For once… Floyd was quiet.
Strangely quiet.
Riddle glanced sideways. “Is something wrong?”
Floyd shrugged, eyes following a drifting lantern. “Nah. Just thinking.”
“…About?”
“You.”
Riddle froze.
Floyd toyed with a blade of grass. “Y’know that chime I gave ya?”
Riddle nodded. “Of course. I hung it by my window.”
The way Floyd’s face lit up—
It was like watching the sun break through storm clouds.
“Heheh… really? I’m glad.”
Riddle swallowed. “I liked it. Truly.”
Another lantern floated by, its warm light brushing across their faces.
Floyd breathed out, voice softer than Riddle had ever heard.
“I made it ‘cause… I liked lookin’ at you every day. Made my chest feel weird. Jade said it’s somethin’ people feel when they wanna stay close to someone.”
Riddle’s breath caught.
Floyd leaned closer, eyes gentle and bright.
“And I wanna stay close to you, Goldfishie. So… d’ya wanna go out with me?”
Silence.
Lantern-light glowing softly around them.
Floyd waited, surprisingly patient, gaze earnest.
Riddle pressed a hand to his chest again.
That flutter—warm, overwhelming, unmistakable.
“…Yes.”
Floyd blinked. “Hah?”
“Yes,” Riddle repeated, cheeks blooming red. “I… would very much like to be close to you too.”
Floyd broke into the brightest smile Riddle had ever seen.
Then—without warning—he scooped Riddle into a tight, spinning hug.
“KYAAAA—Floyd!! Put me down!!”
“Nope!” Floyd laughed, burying his face in Riddle’s neck. “You’re mine now~~”
Riddle spluttered, red from ears to collar.
“W-Who said—! That’s not—! Formal recognition isn’t—FOYD!!”
But despite his flustered protests…
He hugged back.
Just a little.
---
Every morning after that, the little handmade wind chime rang softly in the breeze.
Riddle would wake to its sound, warm and content, knowing exactly who crafted it.
And Floyd—who now appeared at Riddle’s door every day without fail—would grin wide and say:
“Mornin’, Goldfishie. Ready for today?”
And Riddle would answer, with a soft smile only Floyd ever saw:
“Yes. As long as you are with me.”
Because some things—like seashell wind chimes, lantern-lit confessions, and the strange warmth in Floyd Leech’s mismatched eyes—
weren’t made in a factory, nor by rules or schedules.
They were made in small moments.
Made by hand.
Made by heart.
Made…
just for each other.