Work Text:
Night was falling in Twisted Wonderland and Rook was in his room, lost in thoughts.
Oh, his gracious muse, this solid yet lovely frame that carried so much, too much.
The hunter wished day and night that his dorm leader, his beloved, would reach out to him.
He knew however that it would remain a mere wish. The man he loved so dearly rarely asked for help.
A lot of factors made Vil the way he was now, Rook thought. High expectations, family, as well as his own desire to meet up the image others had of him.
Vil, and his lavender eyes glowing with mischief whenever he teased Rook, Vil whose beautiful laugh rang crystal clear in Rook’s mind at all time. Vil and his intoxicating voice, those sweet sounds slipping from his reddened lips as he begged for more.
Vil also, and his broken sobs in the dead of the night, clutching onto Rook for dear life on bad days. Vil who each passing day became harder on himself, even more than others.
It broke Rook’s heart. The hunter had to witness it each time, incapable, useless, barely able to offer a comforting shoulder to cry on. He despised himself for that.
Son cher roi de poison, son cher Vil, deserved better.
More than once, Rook wondered what made Vil accept his love in the first place. He never searched for too long, secretly afraid of what conclusions he could come up with.
“Il vaut mieux apprécier ce doux sentiment tant qu’il existe encore.” Rook whispered to himself.
He yawned and looked at his papers with mild disinterest. At all times indeed, thinking of Vil found itself to be entertaining and lovely. Opposite to math, it was something that would bring a warm feeling to his chest, comforting and light.
He checked the time on his phone, looked outside his window, and considered having a nightly stroll.
He didn’t ponder over it for long, already grabbing a vest hanging around and exiting the room, spring in his step.
The beauty of Pomefiore at night never failed to fill Rook’s heart to the brim. The moon reflected its silvery light onto the tapestry and chandeliers, giving to the rooms and halls an otherworldly and eerie atmosphere he cherished more than anything.
How lucky for him to have fallen on such a magnificent dorm!
He slowed down near the dance room when he noticed that the lights were still on.
It was strange. Maybe their small princesse pomme decided to surprise them thanks to a secret and intense training?
It was not good.
“My, princesse pomme, didn’t we tell him that rest was as important as the training itself? Let’s stop him before he injures himself” Rook muttered as he opened the door quietly, resolved to change the mind of the small boy.
He was surprised to find Vil instead, sitting down and curled in on himself, head hanging low as music echoed softly in an otherwise empty room. His body was paler than usual and he was glistening with sweat, and Rook noticed that Vil was slightly shivering.
“Mon amour,” Rook asked, voice soft and dripping with concern, “didn’t you tell me an hour ago that you were going to sleep?”
Vil looked up at the sound of his voice, startled, and tried to hide the tear stains.
“Oh Rook- I...couldn’t sleep so I figured that some exercising would do me good”
His voice was strained, choked out, and both knew that it was a lie.
Rook sighed softly and went to sit by his side, kissing the tears away and firmly holding his lover’s trembling hands.
He didn’t ask what happened this time. Knew all too well that Vil would pull walls up and stay silent about it, so instead he offered him his warmth.
He embraced Vil slowly, letting his roi de poison time to relax and accommodate to the hug, a small smile appearing on his face as he heard the soft and relieved sigh escaping from Vil’s lips, the way he snuggled closer to him.
They stayed like that for what felt like mere seconds on Rook’s mind, as any moment with his moitié was never enough.
Vil pulled away slowly then, putting rebellious strands of hair behind his ear, and looked at Rook with a pained expression.
“Uhm, could you help me get up? I cannot feel my legs.” he ponctuated it by tapping lightly on his numbed legs and Rook laughed, getting up immediately to help out Vil, who playfully smacked his chest for mocking him like that.
And here, seeing Vil like that, chuckling with delight in his arms, lavender eyes shining so brightly it made his heart skip a beat, did Rook thought, not for the first nor the last time “Ah, mon bien aimé, que je t’aime”
Rook saw Vil’s cheeks slowly adorning a lovely shade of red, and blinked in confusion.
Vil muttered, only loud enough for the two of them “You fool, spouting cheesy lines out of nowhere...that’s embarrassing”
Rook chuckled awkwardly and asked “Did I say it out loud?”
“Yes you did! Really, the things you do to my heart!”
Vil couldn’t fake being mad at Rook for too long, so he just opted for a chaste peck on the lips, to make him shut up for once.
It worked wonderfully, as Rook just stared, lovestruck fool like always, and pulled Vil closer to him for another kiss.
The kisses were short, too sweet surely in the eye of others, but it was never enough for them. They got startled by the sudden change of music, and breathlessly laughed together.
The tune was familiar, slow and romantic.
Rook had an idea in mind, so he pulled away from Vil only to bow to him, extending his hand.
“Mon amour, m’accorderez-vous cette danse?”
Vil laughed, but still took his hand, smile unbearably fond and he whispered “I would love to, mon chéri.”
They danced until they were too tired to put a foot in front of the other, and went to Vil’s room, both quickly changed and tucked under the warm covers, holding hands.
Before sleep hit him, Rook muttered faintly sweet nothings to Vil, and closed his eyes. He relaxed thanks to Vil’s regular and soft breathing beside him. When he heard some shuffling, he was tempted to open his eyes but got stopped when he felt soft lips pressing on his forehead.
“Thank you for staying by my side, Rook. I adore you as much as you do. May we always wake up side by side in the future.”
He waited for a few seconds, until the shuffling was over and Vil was clinging to him, breathing evened out, to let out the single, choked out sob he kept inside. Really, son ange, sa muse, was really going to kill him one day.
They both slept well, breathing like one, and another morning came to greet them. Rook woke up Vil by peppering his face with soft kisses, making him sleepily laugh.
“Good morning, Rook my love.”
“Bonjour mon amour.”
Rook hugged Vil and pressed his lips to his ear, whispering “I too would love to wake up by your side every morning, so let’s work hard for that”
Vil flushed a bright red, insulted him for not admitting he was still awake and hit him repeatedly with his pillow, but all Rook would do was laugh brightly, not disturbed in the slightest.
Ah, if all mornings could be like that, he would die a happy man.