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Rook never even realized he had a specific type till it was his first day at Night Raven College. He had never given much thought to be honest, he just knew he had an appreciation for all things beautiful and assumed that would just trickle down into what he would be attracted to. But watching the prettiest guy he’s ever seen get out of his own carriage Rook knows what his type is now.
He’s tall, taller than Rook at least with legs that go on for miles and miles that taper off into the smallest waist Rook’s ever seen, that’s only accentuated further by how he has the silk belt of their ceremonial robes wrapped snugly around his slim waist. There’s not even a single thread out of place, everything about him seems so perfectly put together, he almost seems otherworldly standing there amongst all the other students milling about the school's courtyard.
Rook can’t help but stare, can’t help but watch with greedy eyes the way the other boy tucks a stray lock of blonde, silky hair behind his ear with long, lithe fingers, lavender eyes practically glowing in contrast with the smokey black makeup he’s wearing.
Rook can feel his heart racing in his chest, beating so loud everyone around him is almost muffled, he can barely hear their excited murmurs, all his senses are locked in, focused on this other student. He watches in awe the way his brows furrow, eyes narrowed, pink lips curled up in disgust as the other boy sneers at some student who’s trying to strike up a conversation with him, blatantly ignoring them as he walks away with his head held high.
It’s like Rook’s body moves completely on instinct as he also makes his way into the main hall, following the other boy but careful to keep his distance, even though Rook would like nothing more than for that beautiful glare to be directed towards him.
Rook never thought he would have a thing for mean guys but the flush he can feel prickling at the back of his neck, the tingle shooting up and down his spine from just the sight of that beautiful scowl is far too telling for Rook to even try and ignore.
It doesn’t take long for the sorting ceremony to start once enough students file into the schools main hall but Rook doesn’t hear a single word the headmage prattles out, far too absorbed in staring at this mysterious beauty. He couldn’t look away even if he wanted to, it feels like his eyes are magnetically drawn to him, trying to absorb every single little detail he can.
Rook watches the way the other boy shakes his head, tossing his long blonde hair over his shoulders in a single elegant twist of his neck. The other boy seems to be one of the few students actually listening to the welcoming speech, the picture of a perfect student, focused entirely on the faculty taking their turns to give their own speeches about the schools ethics and expectations, never once giving attention to the quiet murmuring that’s all around them.
That’s the model, isn’t it? The one that’s always in all those perfume ads right?
Oh my god, that’s Vil Schoenheit, do you think he’s a massive bitch like the magazines say?
I hope I get put into the same dorm as him!!
This other boy, he’s a model? It makes sense Rook supposes, it would be a crime for such a rare beauty to go completely unrecognized. Rook starts to pay more attention to the whispering all around him and he belatedly realizes most of the other students gossiping is about the pretty boy, Vil, is what they’re all calling him.
A feeling of dread slowly starts to settle in the pit of Rook’s stomach, twisting its way through his guts, making him feel queasy with the weight of it pressing down on him. If he can hear these words, most of them unkind, then Vil definitely can, it makes sense why he seems so focused on the teachers, probably knows better than to give any little reaction to the other students around them.
Rook watches Vil get sorted into Pomefiore and he sees how all the other students, even the older ones flock around him, treating Vil like he’s no more than a shiny new toy. Rook can’t help the way his heart lurches in his chest at the plastic smile that’s forced across Vil’s face, his eyes blank, carefully devoid of any emotion.
Rook thinks that the cutting glare he caught earlier looked far more beautiful on Vil, a small glimpse of the fire he’s hiding inside him. A glimpse of the real Vil.
–
Weeks pass by and Rook can’t help but continue to watch Vil from afar, eyes following him every time their paths crossed each other. Rook watches Vil snap at other students for bothering him, staring them down with just one ice cold glare till they run off with their tails tucked between their longs.
It’s not off putting like Rook knows it should be, it just makes Vil all the more intriguing to him. Rook watches Vil, studies him the way he would with the wild magical beasts he likes to stalk and hunt back at home, trying to figure out from all the failed attempts before him just what it would take to let Vil give him the time of day.
Rook watches Vil sneer when someone attempts to ask him about some random celebrity.
Rook watches Vil roll his eyes and storm off with a huff when someone tries to ask him about the weather.
Rook watches Vil snap at someone to pay him if they wanted to take a picture with him.
Rook watches Vil just get up and leave the room when someone asks if he wanted to study with them.
Rook has watched what feels like hundreds of students at this point all attempt to strike up any sort of conversation with Vil just to be shot down straight away in the most cruel and cutting ways, no one, not a single soul in the entire school seems to have been given a chance to even get to know him.
It just makes Rook all the more determined to be the first, to be the only person able to break through that ice cold facade. To be the only person to get to know the real Vil.
And if Rook fails at least he’ll finally get a front row seat for one of Vil’s breath taking glares.
–
It isn’t for another few weeks till Rook finally sees his opportunity to approach Vil. It happens on a bitingly cold evening, the wind frosty as it blows through bare branches and wet grass. It’s late, the moon already high in the cloudy sky, not far from their curfew time when he catches sight of Vil sitting on a stone bench all on his own in the courtyard.
He’s reading something and it’s just the sight of him alone that makes Rook’s cheeks burn, his heart trembling in his chest. Vil really is the loveliest thing Rook has ever set his eyes upon, the way his pale skin glows in the moonlight, the way the tip of his nose and cheeks are flushed pink with the cold, his mouth looks so soft and inviting. It’s almost like an angel was plucked straight from the heavens and brought to their school, Rook’s never seen a beauty like Vils.
Rook finds himself moving, walking towards Vil before he realizes it, his steps quiet, muffled by the grass beneath him as he approaches Vil with the same care he would a wild animal. Rook’s only a few steps away from Vil and he still hasn’t been noticed, Vil far too absorbed in what he’s reading and now that Rook’s close enough he can tell it’s a script, the edges of the sheets frayed and dog eared, a testament to how much Vil has been studying it.
“Hey!” Rook calls out, voice far too loud for the quiet of the courtyard around them, Vil flinching at the sudden booming sound of his voice, looking up at Rook immediately with that gorgeous frown of his. “I’ve seen a few of your movies and to be honest none of them have ever left a big impression on me!!”
Vil stares at him with wide eyes, both brows raised, shocked to silence. Rook watches with glee the way Vil’s pale skin flushes, red making its way down from Vil’s cheeks, all the way past the sharp edge of his jaw, disappearing down beneath the high collar of his frilly school shirt.
Rook sees the way Vil clenches both of his hands, crumpling the pages of the script he’s been holding, the way his brow furrows, eyes narrowed, glaring at Rook and the Savanaclaw student has to bite his lip to stop himself from moaning out, Rook’s own pale cheeks reddened with the heat of Vil’s glare finally directed towards him.
He’s bracing himself ready for the verbal lashing he’s in for, Rook can only begin to imagine what cutting insults Vil is going to hurl out for him, he’s ready for-
“Well,” Vil bites out, getting up from his seat and marching towards Rook till they are just a hair's breadth apart. Rook has to tilt his head back just to be able to meet Vil’s fiery glare. Rook can feel his face heat up even more, he knows there’s no way Vil can’t see the blotchy red blush that covers his cheeks. “What would you even know!?”
It’s… it’s not what Rook was bracing himself for, what he’d been fantasizing about. Frankly Vil’s response almost feels anticlimactic in a way, he’s seen Vil cut classmates down for just bumping into him and this is all he has to say to Rook’s critiques?
It slowly dawns on Rook that perhaps he’s actually upset Vil with his words, and staring up at Vil Rook starts to take note of more than just the furrow of his brow and the way his lip curls up in disgust. Rook notices the way Vil’s mouth wobbles before he’s biting down on his plush lower lip, he takes in the hurt, wounded look to Vil’s eyes, the upset pinch between his furrowed brows. It’s there and gone again in an instant, a single fleeting moment of vulnerability before Vil’s the picture perfect ice queen again that the entire school knows him for at this stage.
How quickly Vil’s able to recover and act like nothing’s wrong is a testament to his skills as an actor, and very telling that instances like this have likely happened before.
“But!” Rook says, both his hands raised in surrender, shooting Vil a sheepish grin. “Your work in that latest drama, the one that you’re a villain in, was superb! Très magnifique! I’ve never seen such a stunning, horrendous villain in all my days!”
Vil deflates, all the tension slowly bleeding out of his limbs, blinking down at Rook in confusion. There’s a moment of silence between the two, that’s drawn out for several long seconds, just the two of them staring at each other. Rook feels like his heart might just slam right out of his chest, it’s never beat this fast in all his life, he’s half convinced Vil can hear it, they’re standing so close.
Rook takes a deep breath in and he almost sees stars, his lungs full of nothing but Vil’s scent, floral and smokey, a spiciness hidden beneath that Rook can feel himself get addicted to almost instantly. He takes another deep breath, dizzy with how Vil’s scent is all around him, all over him.
Rook would have insulted Vil weeks ago if he knew he smelt this good, this delicious.
“Whatever.” Vil finally snaps out, bodily shoving Rook out of his way, stomping back towards the school without a single glance back towards Rook.
Rook doesn’t know how much longer he’s left standing out there alone, he can hear the school bell ringing out, signaling it’s curfew time. Rook ignores it, he doesn’t move an inch, smiling to himself, playing back the brief interaction in his head over and over again, arm tingling where Vil shoved him.
He can’t wait to talk to Vil again.
–
After that it feels like Rook can’t stop running into Vil, their paths crossing almost constantly, which is impressive considering just how big of a school Night Raven College is. Vil, as Rook had expected, glares down at Rook whenever they bump into each other, barking out at him to move out of my way before he’s marching off in a different direction, the tips of his ears that are peaking out beneath his silky blonde lock flushed red.
There’s also a new development in that when Rook finds his gaze wandering, seeking out Vil, their eyes meet now, both of them caught red handed staring at each other. Vil gets just as embarrassed every single time this happens, face erupting into flames at the grin Rook always makes sure to shoot at him, glaring at Rook before quickly looking away, dainty fingers coming up to cover his face, a meager attempt at hiding the blush Rook has already seen. The blush that Rook has already memorized.
Rook finds himself constantly seeking Vil out after school hours as well. It’s turned into their little nightly routine. Rook will stalk the empty grounds of the school when it’s late into the evening, most of their fellow students tucked inside their dorms, hiding away from the freezing cold of the winter, searching for Vil.
Vil’s always sitting in a new spot, never the same place twice, and Rook knows to most people they would take this as a sign, a hint that he’s bothering Vil, that Vil’s just not that interested in Rook or whatever he has to say. But it’s Vil’s reaction, his responses that let Rook know this isn’t just some one sided play of cat and mouse.
Rook has seen Vil when he’s rejecting other students' company, he’s seen what Vil is like when he’s not interested in the individual that’s pestering him. He cuts them off, he ignores them, he calls them names. Vil’s rude, he’s mean, casting nervous students that are just eager to talk to a celebrity with judgemental once overs and sneers. He never gives any of them even a single minute of his time.
When Rook comes up to talk to Vil he listens, he lets Rook speak before he throws out what feels like a cursory insult at best to Rook with his cheeks stained pink, a tremble to his voice that’s almost undetectable unless you were looking for it, unless you had been watching, studying Vil like Rook has since the school year started.
This evening it’s different though. After Rook tells Vil what he thought of his latest performance, telling him he noticed that he wasn’t as absorbed in his latest role as he usually was, that he didn’t deliver the usual vibrance that Rook had come to expect from Vil’s acting, Vil is silent. Vil frowns, glaring down at his lap instead of at Rook like he’s used to, chewing on his lip like he’s struggling to pick his words.
Rook stays silent for once, only the sound of the wind howling can be heard between them, Vil glaring harder and harder at his own lap with each passing second. Rook just waits it out, he can be patient when he wants to be, he can be patient when the moment calls for it, used to waiting hours upon hours just to get the better of whatever wild beast he had been stalking and hunting that day.
It’s only a matter of time before Vil finally makes his move, the silence getting to him. He lets out a frustrated click of his tongue, asking Rook from between gritted teeth how would you have acted it out then?
It’s like the floodgates open with those few simple words, Rook rushing over, practically tripping over his own two feet in his haste to take a seat next to Vil on the wooden bench he was sitting on. Rook wastes no time, letting out the storm that’s been building inside him since he first laid eyes upon Vil out, telling Vil about all the intricacies and details of his performances, letting Vil know where he excelled and where his acting fell short of perfection, explaining to him different theories and technique he knew Vil would be able to adapt to help improve his craft.
Rook thought for a single fleeting second that maybe Vil was just humoring him, but Rook knows Vil, knows Vil from watching him for months at this point. Rook knows that Vil, for as mean as he is, he's honest, he’s straight forward, he doesn’t mince his words and he certainly doesn’t lead people on. That when Vil nods his head, or asks Rook questions, asks Rook to explain certain theories to him he’s not just doing it just to be polite, Vil’s doing it because he’s interested . He’s interested in Rook and what he has to say.
This is the first time this has ever happened to Rook in his entire life, that someone that wasn’t part of his family wanted to listen to him, that someone wanted to talk to him.
“And so then, if you would just….” Rook trailed off, losing his train of thought at the sight of Vil’s mouth twitching. It’s a face Rook has never seen Vil pull yet in all these months of watching him, studying him from afar. He watches Vil’s mouth twitch for a moment longer, the model's hand coming up to cover the smile that Rook just knows is hidden beneath.
“Go on, please.” Vil speaks out from behind his hand, staring up at Rook with curious lavender eyes, leaning into the older student, nudging him with a small push of his shoulder against Rook’s side. “You were talking about the psycho-physical method? It sounds fascinating to me.”
Rook can feel his face growing hot, eyes blinking down at Vil rapidly, opening and closing his mouth without a single sound escaping him. Rook felt completely dumbfounded, brain struggling to fully comprehend what was happening right in front of him, struggling to understand the fluttery feeling twisting around his gut, the way his heart gave an alarming lurch at just the sight of Vil’s smile, the way he could feel his body move on it’s own, inching his way closer and closer to Vil like there was some magnetic pull between them.
Rook has never felt so out of control of his own body, he can feel his own grin take shape on his face, pulling at his cheeks, beaming down at Vil. Rook doesn’t know what it is that possesses him to reach out, to take hold of Vil’s hand, the one he’s hiding behind, silently mourning the fact that the pair of them were both wearing gloves, that he’d have to wait to find out if Vil’s skin is just as soft as Rook has imagines.
Rook’s hand closes around the delicate bones of Vil’s wrists, tugging just hard enough to get Vil to lower his hand, to coax Vil into showing Rook the full force of his sparkling smile. Vil gives a token resistance but eventually gives in, cheeks cherry red and his smile heartbreakingly boyish. Rook feels like his breath is punched straight out from his lungs, stunned to silence for the second time that evening, the image of Vil smiling at him so softly, so lovely imprinted straight into his mind, an image he won’t ever allow himself to forget.
The silence is broken, the moment shattered when Vil’s phone starts to ring from inside the pocket of his school jacket. Vil lets out a tiny huff, finally looking away from Rook for the first time this evening, shuffling his hand around his pocket, pulling his phone out to answer it. Vil pauses, thumb frozen mid air, staring down at the screen with wide eyes, gaze darting back to Rook.
“It’s 11 o’clock!” Vil hisses at Rook, standing up, flicking his long hair behind his shoulder. “How did we miss the bell for curfew?”
Vil doesn’t wait for a reply from Rook, he doesn’t wait for Rook at all, rushing back to the school on his own. Even with the rapidly growing distance between them, Rook can hear Vil answer his phone with an excited “papa!”
Rook reached his hand out, touching the bench where the most stunning man he had ever seen had been sitting just moments ago, the wood still warm from the heat of Vil’s body. Rook still wasn’t exactly sure where he stood with Vil but there was one thing he was positive of now. It’s that Vil didn’t hate him, that he wasn’t cold and disinterested towards Rook like he was with everyone else.
–
After that it’s a natural progression for them to go from their minigame of cat and mouse to just spending time together, no preface needed. It makes Rook nervous, even more nervous than he was the first time he sought Vil out mostly because he doesn’t know where this leaves them. Are they friends? Rook doesn’t want to rush things, he doesn’t want to ruin things between them before they even had a chance to begin by making assumptions. Rook’s never had a friend before, he’s still not exactly sure what having a friend is supposed to feel like.
But when Rook compares the way he feels about his science club partner Trey, who he feels confident enough to say that they are friends, to Vil, it’s all different. Rook wants to make Vil smile, he wants to make Vil laugh, he wants to reach out and touch Vil’s curls, find out for himself if they’re really as soft as they look.
Rook wants to inhale Vil’s scent one more time, he wants to breathe him in, wants to feel his touch, feel his warmth, he wants to press their bodies together. There’s a hunger deep inside Rook for Vil, it's like it was awoken the first time he ever laid his eyes upon the model and it’s only getting louder and louder the more he gets to know Vil, nagging at him to make his move.
Watching Vil make his way over to where Rook was already sitting on their bench, bundled up in a thick coat to protect him from the cold weather, Rook’s heart aches from how fond he feels for him. Rook can feel his breath catch in his throat at the half smile Vil throws his way as he takes his own seat. Rook can feel a heat wash over his entire body when Vil gazes up at him.
How can one man be so affecting?
Why does it feel like Vil already has both his hands wrapped tightly around Rook’s heart?
–
“I can’t believe we both caught colds.” Vil complains, dabbing delicately at his reddened nose, voice thick and husky, peering up at Rook with watery eyes. Vil turned his face to let out a chesty cough out of Rook’s direction, sniffling miserably afterwards.
It was something Rook discovered after getting to know Vil better, how surprisingly considerate he was. They were never these grand gestures for all the school to see and marvel at, instead just these small little acts of kindness that let Rook know just how thoughtful Vil was. It was evident in how patient Vil was when he went out of his way to help Rook pick out an appropriate outfit to wear to the theater, it was how Vil didn’t mock Rook for picking the garlic out of his dinner when they ate together, it was how Vil never interrupted Rook when was going off on a tangent, smiling at him instead, nodding his head approvingly, encouraging Rook to speak, to be himself.
“Even sick you’re beauty is still unparalleled Monsieur Beauté.” Rook coughed out without thinking, his own nose and cheeks equally as pink as Vils, nodding his thanks to Vil when he held out a spare handkerchief for Rook to take. Rook held it to his nose, cursing his cold because the silk handkerchief smelt just like Vil and Rook could only smell just a fraction of Vil’s addicting aroma.
“Rook, you don’t- please don’t feel like you have to compliment me all the time, especially when I know it’s not the truth.”
“It is the truth though.” Rook easily gave back and it was. Vil might look like a mess right now, tired and pale with dark bags hanging heavy under his eyes, but even still he looked stunning to Rook, just the sight of him set Rook's heart racing.
“Really?” Vil asked, voice small, a fragility to it that Rook had never heard in Vil’s voice before, vulnerable for once in this moment, a delicate hope in his eyes that Rook wanted, no Rook needed to set into absolute certainty. “You really think I’m beautiful?”
“ Yes! ” Rook, leaning in closer to Vil, shuffling closer to Vil, their bodies pressed flush together. It was an intimacy Rook had never experienced with someone else before, an intimacy Rook never wanted to experience with anyone but Vil. Rook never realized how pleasurable it would be, how nice it would feel to be so close to someone. “Everytime I look at you, I’m taken back by how beautiful you are, inside and out.”
Vil snorts and Rook can audibly hear him roll his eyes. Vil reaches out, touching Rook’s forehead, his fingertips cold against Rook’s flushed skin. Rook leans forward even more, chasing for more of Vil’s gentle touch, eyes closed, trying to memorize this moment, memorize Vil’s touch.
“Just how sick are you?” Vil asks with an incredulous laugh, pushing Rook back with an easy push. “Because you’re just talking crazy now.”
Rook frowns, feeling brave when he takes one of his gloves off and reaches out to cup Vil’s warm cheek, thumb stroking along the high bones of Vil’s cheek, Vil gasping out at the soft touch, squirming in his seat but not budging an inch, leaning into Rook’s hand the same way he had done just moments ago. “I am crazy Vil, I’m crazy about you.”
Rook reaches out with his free arm, pulling Vil in close, till they are pressed chest to chest, smiling at the tiny squeak Vil lets out, feeling his heart go into overdrive at the small, adorable sound. Rook moves slowly, like he would when he’s trying not to spook a wild animal, brushing their noses together, enjoying the moment, enjoying the intimacy.
Enjoying the fact that he was close enough with Vil that he could do something like this with him.
“You can’t- I’m not- You couldn’t mean that, Rook.” Vil mumbles, pressing his face into the crook of Rook’s neck, his breath warm against Rook’s racing pulse, sending a fissure of heat through Rook’s entire body, heating him from the inside out like no warm bath or scorching fire ever could. “I’m just me, I’m nothing special.”
“You are Vil.” Rook whispered straight into Vil’s flushed ear, feeling the other boy shiver in his arms, digging his flushed face even deeper into the crook of Rook’s neck. “You’re so lovely, I feel at a loss for words sometimes.”
“That’s a first.” Vil snorts not unkindly, tiling his head back just enough to smile up at Rook, resting his head on Rook’s shoulder.
Rook isn’t sure how long they stay like that, wrapped up in each other's embrace. It takes everything in Rook’s body, to stop himself from leaning down and kissing Vil, to stop himself from crossing that final line. He wants to, so bad .
Rook doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything as badly as he wants Vil.
But he needs to know that Vil wants this just as badly as Rook does.
“I- Rook…” Vil murmurs, voice quiet, soft, barely a whisper above the wind that's blowing around them. Vil stares up at Rook like he was the amazing one between the two of them. “I like you too. It’s a little embarrassing how much I like you.”
“I like how absolutely crazy you are.” Vil stammers out, staring up at Rook with his eyes wide and earnest, cheeks flushed the loveliest pink that has nothing to do with his cold. “I like how unapologetically you are yourself, you don’t care what other people have to say about you. It’s admirable. When I’m with you, I feel myself becoming better, a better actor, a better person.”
“I find it hard sometimes, to say how I really feel but when I’m with you, I want to try, I want to-”
Rook surges forward, his self control gone, destroyed by Vil’s words. He couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to from tightening his arm around Vil’s waist, pulling him fully into his lap, kissing Vil for all he was worth.
Rook’s never kissed someone, he’s only ever watched couples do it on the big screen or in the plays and operas he adored to watch. Rook has always been curious what it would feel like, how one small act of affection could inspire so many love songs and stories and now he knows. Rook can feel his heart sore in his chest with every press and push of Vil against him an assault on his heart, on his very soul.
Vil melts in Rook’s embrace, arms coming up to wind themselves around Rook’s neck, holding him in close, letting out a pleased hum straight against Rook’s mouth. Vil’s eyes flutter shut in bliss, his lashes feather-light where they brush against Rook’s cheek. It’s wet and messy, the pair of them moving on instinct rather than experience.
The kiss is tender, it’s sweet, it’s perfect .
All too soon their lips part, Vil pulling back to stare down at Rook, staring at him in fascination. Vil moves one of his hands, reaching up to cup Rook’s cheek, brushing the soft pad of his thumb along the sensitive skin of Rook’s lips. It’s only then that Rook notices how swollen his mouth has become, the thin skin tingling under Vil’s delicate touch.
“Rook I-” Vil starts, his voice a hoarse whisper. Vil takes a deep breath in, a hitch to his breath. Rook waits patiently for him to find his words. Vil opens his mouth again, turning his face away quickly, a rattling cough tearing its way up his throat. After Vil catches his breath he turns back towards Rook, face burning with embarrassment, eyes still watery, shooting Rook a sheepish smile.
“Sorr-” Vil tries to start again, but this time he’s cut off by a sneeze. Rook offers Vil the handkerchief he had gifted him earlier, which Vil gratefully takes, dabbing at his nose as neatly as he can manage, all things considered.
“Sorry.” Vil finally rasps out, looking like he was moments away from exploding with embarrassment. Rook leans up, uncaring, pressing a kiss against Vil’s cheeks, his lips lingering against Vil’s soft skin.
“C’est bon.” Rook smiles, squeezing his arm around Vil’s middle, holding him in close. And really it was, Rook wouldn’t let something as simple as a cold ruin what he had with Vil, not after all these weeks of waiting Vil out, hunting him down.
Vil was his now, and he wasn’t going to let him go.