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When Vil woke up in the morning he felt weird. He felt… low? Perhaps that was the best way of describing it. He had felt that way frequently ever since his overblot, like all his… everything was slightly off. Dizzy, shaky, in pain. But he could hide it. He could ALWAYS hide it, hide it to keep up appearances.
Vil rolled over, only to be hit by a dizzying wave of nausea and pain. Perhaps… Perhaps he should wait for Rook to awaken. Just to help him go through his morning routine. He looked over to his alarm clock, trying to ignore the excruciating pain behind his eyes as he did. 6:00… Rook wouldn’t be up for half an hour at least… he could start on his morning skincare at least. He pushed himself out of bed, ignoring the way his room jiggle and sparke horrendously, and made his way over to his vanity to do his skincare routine. A routine he did every morning. So why couldn’t he remember it all of a sudden?
Vil leaned forward, pressing the heels of his hand into his eyes, trying to remember through what he was doing through all the fog seeping through his mind. He crouched on the floor slowly, trying to make it to the ground before he inevitably passed out. He felt his consciousness fading, and fell to the ground with a soft thud.
When Vil came to, he was being gently shaken by Rook, and Epel’s concerned face was looking over the blonde's shoulder. He groaned, blinking his vision clear.
“Ah, there he is!” Rook exclaimed, smiling jovially. Epel visibly untensed. Vil stared at them, waiting for his thoughts to catch up. When they finally did, he bolted straight up, only to be struck by a wave of lightheadedness at the action. Rook had intuitively reached out to catch him, and kept his hand on Vil’s back as he helped him stand up and walk to the vanity, where Rook forced him to sit down.
“Mon roi du poisson! Why didn’t you wait for me to come help you?” rook asked, placing his hands on Vil's shoulders, “you nearly frightened young monsieur pommette to death!”
Vil blinked at his vice housewarden owlishly, His brain grasping at half formed thoughts. Would he have enough ime to get ready for school? How had Rook gotten in? He didn’t want that answer. How had he frightened Epel?
“You looked dead,” Epel spoke up from where he still stood, staring at Vil. A pit of shame settled into his stomach, for frightening his underclassmen like that.
“Well, I promise you I am quite fine now,” he said, flashing that award winning smile to Epel. “Now would you be a doll and run down to tell professor Trein that I won't be in attendance?” Epel nodded vigorously, sending his curls all askew, and he exited the room at a brisk stride. Once the door closed behind him, Vil slumped forward into Rook. Vil sighed, a full body sigh, letting out all the tension in his body. Rook’s brows creased as he looked at Vil, holding his morning cleanser.
“I have a practical class with Crewel,” he said, and Rook nodded sympathetically, focused on not getting soap in his eyes. Vil was Rook's muse, and he wouldn't allow him to attend class looking anything less than perfect.
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Vil loved potionology. It was his favorite subject even! That being said, he would rather be anywhere else than the hot, stuffy, fume filled lab. The heat wasn’t doing him any favors, the lab already being heavy with moist warmth even though the lab had just started. He had already taken off his blazer and taking anything else off would be improper. His partner wasn’t making the situation any better either.
“Can you take the lead on this, princess? My head is killing me,” a certain lion beside him growled out. How had Vil gotten stuck with Leona? He loves to know. He stared into the steam for a minute, waiting for the spots to clear from his vision, before responding with a nod that made the room spin horrendously.
“Of course,” he said, curt and courteous, lacking any usual invitation for banter with the lion, who turned to stare at him.
“You okay?” Leona asked, concern evident in his voice, as he stared at the blonde, who on closer inspection was rather pale.
“Of course I'm fine!” Vil snapped back, standing up.
Leona watched him, as Vil stood, swaying like a willow tree, unmoving otherwise. Leona watched blinking lazily, until Vil started to tip backwards.
“Shit,” he muttered, before wrapping his arms around his princess and guiding him to the ground, doing his best not to draw attention to the situation at hand, because knowing Vil, he wouldn’t want anyone to see his moment of weakness. He did his best to ignore the whispers and murmurs that rippled throughout the room, with them at the epicenter. He really didn’t want to deal with this, not the whispers, not the unconscious housewarden, not the migraine. He was at his tipping point. He breathed, slow, steady breaths, to at least regain some semblance of control on the situation so he could focus on-
“Look at the drama queen.”
Snickers and whispers accompanied the barely whispered statement, and Leona wheeled around to face them.
“Since you clearly have time to sit and stare, how about instead you be useful and get help!” Leona snarled, glaring daggers at the students. This seemed to be what alerted Crewel, who made his way over to the downed student, and knelt beside Leona.
“Support his head,” Crewel said, lifting Vil's legs up onto the seat that he had previously occupied. He removed a glove, and placed it against Vil's neck, checking his pulse
.
“You handled that very well Leona,” Crewel said gently, sweeping Vil’s bangs off his slightly damp forehead, “take him back to his dorm when he wakes up, yes?” Crewel asked, looking sharply. Leona nodded wordlessly, looking down at the damsel in his lap. Crewel smiled, then rose.
“Now then class, I suppose some mandatory first aid lessons with Vargas are in order?” he said, looking at the class, an evil smirk lighting up his lips as he heard the groans of his students.
<>🍎<>
Vil woke up lying on the ground for the second time that day. Leona was the only face he saw this time, a face that seemed to soften with relief when he saw Vil stir.
“Good your up,” Leona purred, adjusting where he was holding Vil from. It took Vil a moment for his foggy brain to catch up with what was happening, but when he did he threw his arms around Leona’s shoulders, as he was lifted off the ground in Leona's arms. The elder man started towards the door, his load shifting irritably in his arms.
“I can walk, Kingscholar.”
“See, I don't believe that,” Leona responded to the irritable blonde in his arms, who turned his sharp glare up at the lion. He only smirked back, enjoying how it made Vil squirm.
“Put me down Leona, people will see,” he said pleadingly, and that almost made Leona fold. Almost.
“You assume that I care about us being seen like this,” he responded, “but I truly don’t. My main priority right now is making sure you’re okay.” Leona cocked his head towards the princess in his arms, asking without verbalizing the question.
“Well I am quite fine, Leona.” Vil snarked, his quarreling ways returning, along with colour to his face. “But thank you for caring” he finished with, a bit of an afterthought. Leona smirked and continued on, carrying Vil into the metaphorical sunset.