Chapter Text
Rook needed a break. Savanaclaw was an experience. Everyone was fighting, getting competitive and all that. He walked up to the local cafe, just getting some coffee to help him wake up and prepare for the day today. He stepped into the store, the door ringing a bell as he opened it.
Staring at the menu, he decided to order a mocha. Sweet yet bitter at the same time (a perfect combination of flavours for his palette). As he sat down, he glanced at everyone around the cafe. There were 2 people on laptops, one studying what seemed like stocks and money for some business of his, and one was just playing video games. There was one guy who looked like he was about to fall asleep, even though there was caffeine right in front of him. However, one man stood out to him.
The man stood at the pick up area for his drink, leaning against a nearby chair. He had silky blond hair similar to Rook’s, but more platinum blond than dirty blond. On closer inspection, his hair had a slight fade to a purplish lilac colour. He wore intense eye makeup that really brought out the indigo colour in his eyes. He had pale, fair skin, clearly taken care of carefully. As Rook caught himself staring, he heard the man’s name be called.
“Vil Scho… Schoen… Vil?” a barista called out, clearly struggling to pronounce it. The man, now identified as ‘Vil,’ stepped up.
“It’s pronounced “Schoenheit,” he told the worker, “And thank you for the coffee.” He took the hot cup of coffee, and he walked off to sit down at an empty table.
Having watched the whole interaction, Rook was taken back by how perfect Vil had seemed. He had a velvety smooth voice, he was polite. He had a good sense of style, what wasn’t to love? Rook got so distracted by him that he didn't even hear when his name was called.
“Rook Hunt? Rook? Never mind…” the barista eventually gave up on calling him and just left the cup sitting on the table. Once Rook realized it was his mocha, he walked up and took it. It had cooled down a little bit by the time he took it, but he didn't drink it right away. He was too distracted by Vil, just gazing at him in awe. Rook sat at a distant table, so as to not draw attention to himself staring at Vil.
“Arrow Afar…” he activates his signature spell without thinking, clearly wanting to track down the majestic blond.
After a bit, Vil finally noticed that Rook was staring. He walked up to him, leaning onto the table. “Excuse me, do you have a problem with staring?” He asked, not caring if he sounded kind or not.
“Oh, sorry!” Rook apologised, struggling to think of an excuse. After some thinking, he settled on “Your makeup is really interesting, I've never been able to do my makeup like that!”
Vil stood up straight, looking down at Rook sitting in the chair. “You don't seem like someone who'd wear makeup. Hell, you don't even look like you do basic skincare!”
“Uh… I’m serious! I've been trying to get into it lately, it's simply a matter of how much money I have now!” Rook used this as an excuse, but it was true. He was interested in makeup and skincare, sure, but actually getting around to purchasing everything you need for it was a hassle. “I’m really interested in learning how to do all that, so it’d be amazing if you could give me some pointers!”
Vil finally gave in, letting out a heavy sigh. “Fine, I'll give you a list of the products I use. You'd better leave me alone after this, though.” He took out a notepad and a pen, and began writing down every product he used. It was an extensive list, and Rook barely recognised any of the brand names, but Rook had committed, ready to try anything it took for Vil to get off his case for a moment.
“Merci beaucoup!”
“What?”
Vil looked at him with confusion. “Why did you just start speaking French out of nowhere?”
“Sorry, sorry,” Rook explained, “It’s a habit of mine. I got into it in middle school and never got out of that phase, hehe!”
“Okay… What’s your name, strange person?”
“Rook. Rook Hunt.”
“I’m Vil Schoenheit. Please learn how to pronounce it correctly, or we’ll have some issues.”
“No problem, I've already memorised it, Roi des Poison!”
“Excuse me?”
Vil was even more taken aback by Rook’s random bursts of French, even having made a nickname for him already. “Roi des Poison?”
“Oui! It means ‘King of Poison!’” Rook said smugly, as if he felt confident that he knew a few words of another language, even if it wasn't enough to hold a fluent conversation.
“I know what it means,” Vil retorted, clearly ticked off at Rook’s behaviour. “I believe you don't need a nickname for me, since we’ll never meet again. Goodbye.”
As Vil stormed off, Rook just couldn't shake the feeling that he was growing connected to Vil. The way that he had zero problem with speaking rudely, just speaking his mind without a filter, was attractive to say the least. He had an aura of confidence surrounding him. Rook felt like Vil would forget him within 10 minutes. It was an honour to speak to him, even if he was just getting insulted over and over again.
Rook finished his coffee, heading back home afterwards. As he walked, he could think about nothing but Vil. His eyes, his hair, his lips, his everything. He walked back to his dorm room, hoping none of his roommates were there. He needed complete focus. For what? For Vil, of course!
He shut the door behind him, glad to see that everyone else was at Spelldrive practise. He sat down on his bed, taking out the list of products that Vil had written for him. All the brand names looked very fancy, Rook couldn’t even pronounce some of them.
“Do I really need to buy all this?” He wondered aloud, asking no one but the air around him. The list was confusing, to say the least. There were way more makeup products than he knew existed. What was a primer? Or a lip liner? Or concealer? Whatever it was, Rook needed to know. For normal reasons, of course!
After ordering some of the makeup online, he laid down on his bed. All he could think about was Vil. Vil at the cafe, Vil telling him off, Vil talking to the workers, just Vil. He was beautiful, almost perfect. The way his eye makeup was done made him look feminine, yet still handsome. It really brought out the purplish colour in his eyes. His lips were a perfect nude shade, with a pinkish gloss over it. It was like eye candy to look at.
“Vil…” Rook spoke aloud, since no one else was around to hear, “How can anyone be this perfect?”
Wait. Rook had used his signature spell on Vil, which means…
“I know where he is!”
Rook got out of bed, put on his boots, and stepped outside. It was dark, so he didn't have to worry about being seen as creepy. He followed the star-like lights that were created by his signature spell which led him to his prey. He took a left, a right, went straight, and then did one more left. The walk to see where Vil was seemed to give Rook an adrenaline rush based on how energetic he was, smiling the whole length of the walk. He had a light bounce in his walk, moving fast (yet not running) to get to see his dear Roi des Poison.
He ended up outside a castle-like building. It was made of stone and had a vast courtyard that took up most of the property.
Oh, notre roi a un château!
Rook thought this as he walked onto the property, attempting to make minimal sound or moves so he wouldn't be detected. The grassy area was mostly barren, only a few people being outside. They all looked as if they were royalty, to the point where Rook assumed they were stuck-up rich kids. After a bit of walking, he got to the front door. There was a brass sign screwed into the wall just to the right of the door. The sign read: “Pᴏᴍᴇғɪᴏʀᴇ: Nɪɢʜᴛ Rᴀᴠᴇɴ Cᴏʟʟᴇɢᴇ's ᴍᴏsᴛ ᴘʀɪsᴛɪɴᴇ ᴅᴏʀᴍ.”
“Pomefiore,” Rook read aloud, yet still quietly, as to not bring attention to himself. He recognized that Pomefiore was also a dorm of the same college Rook went to. Rook had heard of the other dorms, but never went out to visit. Any of the guys from Savanaclaw would tease him for hanging with a bunch of “pretty girls,” even if it was an all boys school.
Rook took a deep breath and stepped inside, ready to find Vil’s room.
He entered the dorm, immediately spotting a chandelier on the ceiling, multiple fancy pieces of furniture. High ceilings, and windows that went from the floor to the ceiling. It seriously looked as if they had paid millions just to spend one night here. There were multiple flower pots that decorated the walls and tables, adding some colour to a mostly white and gold (along with some purple) setting. There were two staircases that lead to the second floor on either side of the room. This dorm was so much different from Savanaclaw. In Rook’s dorm, they had a more earthy setting, not all fancy and proper, despite having a literal prince as the Housewarden.
He walked up the stairs, continuing to follow the twinkling lights only he could see. He followed them up to the 3rd floor, stopping at the entrance to Vil’s dorm room. Since Vil was a third-year, he had a room all to himself. This would make it easier for Rook to look through his things- er, research his living space. He took a Post-It out of his pocket along with a pen, and wrote down the room number and directions on how to get there.
Rook found himself daydreaming about what Vil’s room could like. What kind of bed was there? What blankets? Where did he keep his makeup? What did his pajamas look like? What other clothes did he have? Rook’s questions slowly became more intimate without realizing it. He caught himself thinking about what Vil’s shower routine could be, before deciding he should depart before Vil exits his room and sees him here. Rook went down the stairs, out the door, and headed back to Savanaclaw.
As he walked back, all he could think of was Vil. Vil this, Vil that. The only way he could tell where he was, was because he had already memorised the directions to Pomefiore from Savanaclaw and just reversed it. He was so focused on Vil that he didn't notice-
“Hey, what was that for?!” Someone had run into Rook. Actually, Rook ran into the “someone.”
“Désolé!” Rook quickly apologised before looking up to see a certain hyena.
“Oh, Ruggie!”
“Watch where you're going!” Ruggie was aggressive, yet still playful as usual. “How can you watch people sleep, yet you can't even look 2 metres in front of you?”
“Je suis vraiment désolé!”
“I don't understand a word you're saying, but okay.”
Ruggie dusts himself off, frustrated, yet forgiving. He gathered all his snacks that he dropped — there were quite a lot — and walked away from Rook.
Rook thought: Do I really stalk people?
It made sense why people would see him that way. He was always getting in other people’s business, watching people, sneaking into their rooms… Wow, he really was a stalker.
He continued the walk to his dorm with this thought on his mind. He kept thinking. I did follow Vil to his dorm… And I scrolled through all his social media… Condamner.
It didn’t feel the best to know and recognize that he basically followed people and watched them, but it also gave him a sense of power. He had the talent to hide anywhere and find out what anyone was doing. He could even follow Vil, maybe even sneak into his room while he's away!
He laughed a bit, seemingly beyond morality. Logical decisions, like to stop stalking people, were out the window. He was going to use this ability to his own advantage, whether other people liked it or not.