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Nervousness and excitement mixed up in Epel’s stomach, heavy and impossible to ignore. He couldn’t believe it was almost time. It seemed like he waited forever for this very moment (his forever amounted to exactly one week and two days; more than enough for a teenager who was never on a date before). With every minute passing, it was getting harder and harder to sit still - by now he would be fidgeting with the end of his sleeve or pacing across the room, but with Vil standing behind him, he didn’t dare to move by even a millimeter. He knew well how Vil would react if he accidentally messed up his careful ministrations by squirming around.
He was smarter than that.
“Is this really necessary?” he still asked, tone almost pleading, as Vil poured some damp gel on his hair and started to methodically slick it back.
The reflection staring back at him from Vil’s large vanity table mirror didn’t look too impressive.
Frankly, he looked like a dunce. He looked like somebody who would get called “a nice young man” by all the grannies in his village. Not exactly the hot date night vibe he was imagining.
But that was alright. He had a lot of experience in narrowly evading Vil’s expectations. Surely he could just escape from Vil’s eyesight and mess up that awful lick. Maybe he could manage to not end up looking like a wet cat.
“But of course it is,” Vil replied. He wasn’t gentle in his motions, and all that yanking and pulling made Epel slightly afraid that his neck would snap.
Now that would be an unfortunate way to ruin his first date.
“You can’t just show up looking like you came out of a hurricane. Now it’s your time to be the most dazzling. You need to look like the forbidden fruit, so tempting, he can’t look away from you.”
“But my dear,” said Rook from whee he was sprawled on Vil’s bed. Epel still wasn’t sure what was he even doing there, as so far, he hadn’t contributed to the situation in the slightest. He probably just wanted to stare at Vil and sniff his pillows or something equally gross like that. “There is beauty to be found in the wild and untamed, don’t you agree? You liked it our freshman year, after all.”
Vil cleared his throat. If it were any other person, Epel would almost think he looked embarrassed. “Well. Yes. But there’s a difference between the curated wilderness and dressing up as a mop of hay.”
Every time they did that, Epel was suddenly overcame with the need to flee the room as soon as possible. It was like watching his own parents flirt, and there was always something in their words, like they were ready to jump into exchanging bodily fluids at any second. They never did, but the energy was still there, and Epel definitely was not a fan of it.
“Stand up, I need to see you,” Vil said.
Epel did, letting the older boy grab him by his shoulders and turn around. Vil’s eyes were sharp as he looked Epel over, no doubt catching every detail of his appearance.
For once, he didn’t seem to have any harsh words or lemon-sour grimaces, instead giving Epel a small, appreciative smile. “Hasn’t our little apple grown up well?” There was something in his voice. Something that sounded almost like pride.
Despite himself, Epel beamed. Compliments from Vil were few and far between, and Epel collected them like flowers to be pressed between pages of a book for preserving. Vil didn’t tend to drop empty words around — everything he said had weight. Compliments from him mattered .
It was funny. A few months ago, Epel would have never imagined he would look up to somebody like Vil. But maybe — just maybe — past Epel was a bit stupid. After all, Vil had the charisma and iron will that made everyone around him scurry to carry out his every order, had magic more powerful than most people his age and even without it, he could probably break a person in half in about five seconds time. Epel wanted to be like him, as embarrassing it was to admit.
Well, maybe without the glitter eyeshadow and the impossibly tall heels, but still.
“Ah, yes, you look most lovely, Monsieur Pommette,” said Rook with his usual enthusiasm, smiling at Epel warmly.
“Yes.” Vil narrowed his eyes. “That boy of yours better appreciate it. Now, come here.”
He pulled Epel’s arm, seating the both of them on the bed. Squished between Vil and Rook, Epel was reminded of just how much sweat his stress-filled body decided to emit. He tried to tug at his collar, but Vil instantly swatted his hand away, sending him a glare that cut like a dagger.
“Listen well, because I’m not going to repeat myself. First, either let him pay for everything or split the bill, but don’t be the one suggesting it.”
Epel blinked. Was… was Vil giving him dating advice now?
“Why not?” That seemed weirdly… old-fashioned. Like he was some delicate damsel that needed to get taken care of. He didn’t like that. What if he wanted to be the charming gentleman?
“You need to see if he cares. He’ll pay, if he thinks you’re worth it. If not, you’ll know it’s time to dump him. Better to figure that out before you get too invested.”
“Vil paid for everything on our first date,” Rook chimed in, sounding positively delighted. Epel knew well that dreamy look on his face — suddenly, he did not like the direction this conversation was taking. “Theater tickets, restaurant bill. He even got me new clothes beforehand. Perfume, too. If I were to walk by his side, I needed to look the part, he’d said.”
“Well, of course I did. You still looked like you lived your whole life in a bush somewhere, and I had no idea your family was so wealthy.”
Rook laughed at that, and even Epel had to bite down a smile.
“Anyway, back to what I was saying. Don’t kiss him until at least the third date.”
“What? Why?”
Sure. Maybe Epel wasn’t the biggest romantic in the world, but wasn’t that how the perfect first date always ended in the movies? You get walked to your door, and then you kiss and say goodnight, and all that sappy stuff.
“Men like the chase. You need to seem at least a little unavailable, to keep him interested.” Vil shrugged, like everything he was saying was simply just common sense. “And if he gets bored so quickly, he wasn’t worth it anyway.”
“The first few times I spoke to Vil, he didn’t even say a word,” Rook agreed. He sounded like Vil ignoring him was the greatest thing that has ever happened to him. Knowing him, it may as well be. “The first time he responded to me! The first time he smiled! It felt like heaven! Mon beau, you sure didn’t make it easy and I enjoyed every second of it.”
He reached out, taking Vil’s hand and placing a light kiss on his knuckles. It would’ve been sweet, perhaps, if Epel still wasn’t very much sitting between them.
Gross. A hundred times gross.
“Rook, please, would you let me finish?” Vil’s cold stare would look more respectable if his cheeks weren’t dusted with a pink blush.
“Apologies, my love. I was just providing illustrative examples.”
Epel was sure he could do without the illustrative examples. There were only so many things he wanted to know about his upperclassmen’s relationship, and he reached that limit about his first week in Pomefiore, when while trying to sneak out to the kitchen in the middle of the night, he accidentally saw them making out on the housewarden’s throne, well on their way to remove most of their clothes.
That certainly taught him a lesson. He never tried to go for a midnight snack after that.
“Can you continue?” he asked Vil almost pleadingly. If they went on for longer, he would be late, and he would very much like to avoid that.
“All I’m trying to say is that you absolutely, under any circumstances, shouldn’t settle for anything less than you deserve and you should show it. Either he treats you like a prince or you walk away.”
Epel was pointedly not looking at Vil, examining his own nails instead. “Okay, but what if I want to… you know… Be the one taking care of the other person… and stuff…” It was so embarrassing to say out loud, to Vil and Rook especially, his insides twisted in a knot.
In retrospect, he should’ve expected the painful ear tug from Vil.
“It’s not about gender roles, you dummy, it’s about self-respect.”
“But it’s a very noble pursuit, Monsieur Pommette!” Rook chimed in. “You should do as you please, as long as you're happy.”
“Yes.” Vil nodded, stiff. “Don’t let a boy walk all over you. You’re better than that, understood?”
“And,” Rook said before Epel had any chance of replying. “I did check his address, you know. If anything happens, just say a word. I will be happy to aid you.”
Epel jumped up from the bed. He did not want to think too much about the implication hidden in Rook’s words - he’d sleep easier that way. And besides, it was almost time.
“Ah, thank you for your, uh, advice,” he muttered. “But I really should get going.”
“Go, go. Just don’t stay past curfew. Date or not, I won’t let you in.”
“Have the most wonderful night, little apple! If you do happen to stay out for too long, the windows are always open, too.”
The glare Vil shot Rook was no less murderous than the ones he tended to give to Epel. The other boy raised his hands in defeat. “But my dear, fair Vil, there’s nothing more beautiful than young love, is there? You’re only sixteen once, there is no need to be so strict. If you don’t let him be a little wild now, he will start causing problems later.”
Epel had no plans of causing any problems. Or well, not more than usual and his usual troublemaking was usually kept well away from Vil’s eyes, and honestly, was it really troublemaking if he just had some fun with his friends and didn’t actually get into trouble? Looking at it from that angle, he was practically an honor student!
(Except for that time last week, when he bit Jack after Spelldrive practice. There really was no need for Jack to go and rattle that out to Vil.)
Still, he appreciated Rook’s intentions, even if the way Rook talked about him sounded like he was trying to be his father.
To his utter surprise, Vil laughed. Loud and utterly inelegant, so unlike him, for a second Epel wasn’t sure if this wasn’t just some stress-induced hallucination.
“Oh, alright. Come back whenever you want, as long as you don’t skip class.”
When Epel left the room, it was with a smile, a heart half-lighter and a whole lot of embarrassment at the warm fondness he felt in his chest.