The night's breeze kisses Riddle a welcome home as he hauls open the door to his apartment. He locks the door behind him lightly, now all is still and silent inside, the busy day has been left in the past.
He loosens his tie, lines his shoes in the right place and perches his briefcase beside the coffee table. He is dying for a cup of tea right now, he cannot be bothered to neatly stow the briefcase away in his room.
Until about two years ago, someone was always there to brew him tea when he needs it. Back then, his mother finally agreed to allow him to move out upon graduation of law school, on the condition that he had better not throw mud on her — and the family's — name.
He supposes he carries that end of the promise quite well. Now a junior associate at a renowned law firm specialising in magic criminal law, top on the list to be promoted senior, he is earning enough to cover his own expenses without having to ask his mother for financial support.
He sets the kettle on the stove, and a low rumbling sound fills the area as the stove heats up. The way his shoulders relaxes causes him to briefly realise the silence made him tense.
He thought he was quite used to silence back at home, but at home there had been rustles of pages turning, whizzes of pen against paper, and every now and then his mother would remind lovingly that one study session has ended and it was time for the next.
At home he could wait for a rustle in the bushes outside, a whisper of his name, a knock on the window, giggles, humming, voices of children sneaking around under the adults' noses.
He finds himself in front of his room's window — the night's breeze lacking fragrance of roses tickling his scalp — when the boiling screech pierces his memory.
Tearing his fingers from the sill, Riddle rushes to switch off the stove. As if on autopilot, he prepares the tea leaves and pours in the water and mixes in a few drops of honey. And in the silence of the stove's dying vroom, he hears unbirthday parties, chattering peers, the loyal friend who accompany him and him alone, and the thief snatching a slice of tart off his hand while evading their sight.
A sip of tea and he's back in his apartment. The bitter flavour sinks warmly in his stomach and it grounds him to the here and now. He chose this path, one of the first and few big life choices he chose for himself, and he doesn't regret it at all. Not at all. He's merely… unaccustomed to parting with someone, that is all.
The first time was too sudden, too frightening, and none of them had a say in it when his mother dragged him away. He cried for hours, cried into his papers and books, cried even as his mother hugged him, and so she slapped him instead.
And that was it. He was wrong, giggles and humming and knocking on windows were all wrong and parting was right. He could convince himself that it was just a dream, it was never supposed to be real.
But it's different this time. He chose to leave for his profession, and they patted his shoulder and ruffled his hair when he so happily announced it. He doesn't regret it at all.
He's merely… still a little bit childish. Still a little bit needy. Still a little bit unaccustomed to the bitterness that sinks in his stomach, the unmistakable fact that no one can give him back the time he lost in childhood.
Perhaps he never quite grew out of wanting things he cannot get. Which isn't right. It's not like him to think about what isn't right.
He must be very tired, worn out from work. He sets down the teacup and lies on the sofa, crumpling his shirt but he can iron it later. What would mother say to taking a nap so late in the evening?
But her rambling voice is drowned out now, and he thinks about the friend who would drape a blanket over his shoulder and whisper "rest well", and simultaneously another who would be scheming to doodle on his face.
He must be tired, he must close his eyes.
Take him away, like you did so long before. The window is open and he's thinking of you. And in that land of wonders, all may frolic like children, never too late.
"… Long time no see, Trey, Chenya!"
The End
