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broken dream

"Happy birthday, Riddle," The boy beams, looking up at his mother as his mouth waters at the sight of the tart in front of him. A tug in his chest that he covers with his frail hands, shaking slightly as he grips the silky fabric between his scrawny fingers.

Something was wrong.

"Is everything alright?" Riddle nods despite the lump in his throat, staring at the woman and taking in each and every one of her features. Sharp yet round gray eyes, crimson hair that was tied up neatly in a bun at the back of her head, strands falling from it as she moved to sit in the seat beside him, leaning over the table and smiling softly. Her eyebrows sat perfectly above her eyes, thin, arched and lining the faint wrinkles that lined her partially exposed forehead that trailed down into a short bridge that ended in a rounded tip of her nose. Her sharp cheekbones that shifted beneath her face as she made her different expressions. Riddle notices that her lipstick is smudged ever so slightly across her mouth, thin lips highlighted by the bright red, and that her mascara was clumped on her thin eyelashes.

Riddle beamed when he saw how beautiful his mother was, even with all the little imperfections he could make out. Her graceful smile made his shoulders slump as he felt relaxed, eyes watering for reasons unknown to him. 

The small boy sits up in his chair as he excitedly watches his mother's delicate hands light the candles atop the strawberry tart, struggling to light the flame. As the lights dim, it makes the pastry glow as if a mirage in the middle of the desert. The candlelight dances over the glaze atop the perfectly red berries, the appearance shifting as he looks up at his mother, who grabs his hand and smiles warmly in a way that makes his chest flutter with comfort. 

"Make a wish," She says quietly. Riddle shakes off the unease that creeps up his spine as he takes a deep breath and blows out the candles, the smoke dissipating across their dining room, taking his birthday wish with it. 

"I wished that-"He begins excitedly, only to be hushed by the woman's delicate voicen, who chuckles warmly. 

"It won't come true if you tell me-" She smiles, cutting a generous slice out of the tart and lifting it once a large plate, the edges decorated with a variety of roses and rabbits. Riddle bounces in his seat as he grins, picking up one of the fallen strawberries from the plate and popping it into his mouth. The cool sweetness spreads over his tastebuds and he allows his eyelids to flutter closed as he savors the flavor. The ceramic clinks as his mother places it in front of him, cutting a piece for herself and sitting beside him, the chair creaking across the floor softly. 

She sits and chuckles at herself. 

"What is it, Mama?"

"We shouldn't be eating in the dark," she stands. "I sat down too soon." Her son nods and watches as she turns the lights on and Riddle finds himself in a room that is so familiar to him, but also so very different from everything that he was used to. It was a small dining room, with bookshelves lined with fun trinkets and various cookbooks. The floral wallpaper was distracting against the worn mahogany furniture, various cracks and scrapes against the elegantly carved wood, and the floor beneath them was a lighter wood, speckled in various paint colors and light marks where it was clear that someone had tried to move furniture by sliding it rather than lifting it.

He sighs, hoping to calm his unease, and takes a shaky bite out of the tart, the flavor dull on his tongue, biting at his tastebuds painfully as he sputters and coughs, catching the attention of his mother, who shoots up out of her chair and rushes to his side, rubbing his back. 

"Trey? Are you okay?" She hushes him, her voice laced with concern. 

He smiles up at his mother, head throbbing as he catches her slip and eyebrow quicked in confusion as his smile falters slightly, eyes widening as he parts his lips in near disbelief.