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He's rolling a joint when the dork appears out of stone.
Just waltzes through a fucking wall out to where Riven has his fingers caught under weak paper. Where he's lurking behind the less-than-glamorous waste disposal unit of Alfea.
Never let it be said he doesn't suffer for his art.
He recognises Sam, but he'll pretend not to. He'll ignore him for now, and hope the idiot has sense enough not to linger.
He rolls it successfully and brings it to his lips. If Sam were a fire fairy he'd ask for a light. As it is, Riven takes out his own lighter and inhales sweet, slightly rancid, bliss.
It's a cold, grey day and Sam is shivering in his faded tee, hands jammed into his pockets, shifting from side to side as if looking for a way to start.
Riven sure as shit isn't gonna give it to him.
He's kept warm by the burn of his joint, and he's still decked out in his Specialism kit. His muscles are sore from practise, but it was worth it, to have Saul's beam shone on him for a change. He'd basked in the distinct taste of Sky's jealousy. It's much better than his self-righteous spiel.
He's trying to ignore Sam, who's looking at him with these gigantic puppy-dog eyes, looking like he half wants to disappear, half wants to punch Riven right in the face.
Riven would like to see him try. Fucking fairies.
"Are you fucking gay for me, or something?" He snaps finally, after what seems like a lifetime. "Getting some mental images for the wank-bank later, is it?"
Sam doesn't fluster. He's not Dane or some other first-year that Riven can intimidate. Sam's irritatingly self-assured for someone who is so clearly a loser. His dad's a teacher and his sister is Terra for fuck's sake. For some reason, the social anxiety and awkwardness that plague his little reject family has skipped Sam, who stands- irritatingly taller than Riven - and doesn't skitter away at Riven's tone.
Instead, Sam curls his fingers around his back-pack strap and takes a gentle breath. His tone is even, not at all angry, but firm when he says: "I want you to stay away from Musa."
What? "What?" Riven scoffs, even as his heart sluices open and pain ripples through his chest.
Sam doesn't repeat himself, just stares at him. Lets the weed smoke drift into plumes and away into the grey, grey sky.
It gets under Riven's skin. Grates him. He's trying his best not to think about Musa. And he's been doing a bang up job, if he does say so himself. Ever since the new term started, and she'd looked at him- devastated and disappointed- and said that he'd changed.
No shit, he'd changed. He wasn't some loser who spent all his time in the plant-lab anymore growing cactuses and digging into soil. Now he was someone.
Someone she didn't want.
And fuck Sam. Sam who's so much like how Riven used to be, except he's self-assured and calm and-
"I can do whatever I want, mate." Riven snarls, "you don't tell me what to do." He accentuates his point by jabbing his index finger hard into Sam's chest. It's just a fraction of what he really wants to do. "So, why don't you piss off, if that's what you came to tell me."
Sam takes a step back and Riven thinks he's won. Thinks he can breathe for the first time since Musa's name was dropped in this conversation.
But Sam lifts his head with Sky-levels of righteousness. "For her sake." He says, "it breaks her heart every time she sees you acting this way. I'm looking out for her."
Then he leaves and disappears through the stone walls.
Riven swears in frustration. Doubles over and screams into his hands.
Then he tosses his blunt onto the floor and steps on it.
***
He drops the douche-bag act.
In part, because of Sky and the unbearable levels of superiority. A little because of Dane and how bad he feels. A smidge because of how terrifying Beatrice is and honestly, though he likes a girl with a dark academia style, she's a different level of evil.
Mostly it's because of Musa.
He thinks he sees it, from time to time, the edge of her gaze on him: mouth down-turned, sad, as he trips some first year up or leads another purposely astray.
She'd unfollowed him on Instagram after he posted that video about Terra.
So yes, the douche bag thing, that's gone now.
He sits in a dark part of the cafeteria, mulling over where Sky just was, when Musa drops into the seat.
He stares at her, swallows the now-tasteless food in his mouth.
He's never called her beautiful. Not even when they were a thing at the tail end of last year, after the friendship had built and built and peaked- when they'd kissed, hungry, and fallen into his bed.
He's never called her beautiful but he thinks it. Beautiful and fierce. Her hair pulled back into two buns, and eyes so big and giving absolutely nothing away, it's all he can do to stare at her.
"It's come to my attention that Sam talked to you on my behalf, and I am no damsel." She says, and Riven blinks, then laughs.
"Trust me, beautiful," he drawls, "that much I know."
Her cheeks flame and he thanks some god he doesn't believe in that he still has an affect on her. Even a small one.
"Well. Good." She nods, surprised, "well, that's-"
"Are the two of you dating now?"
She gives him a look, and Riven's not sure what his face looks like. Not sure how the words slipped out without his consent. "Is that any of your business, Riven?" She says, and he loves his name on her lips.
"Not really. But say my name again."
She scoffs, halfway between fond and annoyed, and he loves her. It hits him hard, strikes him in the chest, he loves her. He's maybe always loved her. He had her, he lost her, but he loves her.
Suddenly her whole body stiffens, she looks at him: stunned.
He wonders what's wrong before he sees her eyes, glimmering purple and he thinks:
"Oh fuck. Mind fairy."
She knows. She knows he loves her.
Her face breaks into a wide, surprised grin. "Yup." She says eventually, beaming like the sun, "mind fairy."
They stare at each other. He feels exposed. He wants to curl in on himself, hide behind lies, but she reaches across the table and touches his hand.
"I'm not dating Sam."
"Good. He doesn't deserve you-"
"Riven," she sighs, and as she leans back, he leans forward, desperate not to have even an inch further between them. "I want this to work, I do, but your walls are up so high. You block me out and I can't go through that again. When you changed this summer, I..." she looks down at their hands, still joined, and shakes her head. "It messed me up."
"I'm sorry," he whispers, hating himself, "I fucked up."
She gives him a smile. "We're only teenagers. We're kind of allowed to fuck up a few times."
He strokes his thumb over her wrist, feels for the first time in a long time, like the kid who was so excited by the cactus roots that he photographed them and framed them on his bedroom wall. "I won't with you again," he promises. "I won't fuck up with you again. You're too important."
It comes from a place of devastating truth, and her response is to lean across the table and kiss him.
He loves her.
When they pull apart (too soon for his liking) she's looking over his shoulder and nodding.
Riven turns to see Sam giving them a thumbs up.
"Piss off," Riven calls, but his tone's too gleeful, and his face is lit up with a smile.