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Rook was a hypocrite. He was a huge hypocrite, and he couldn’t stand it. He watched as Epel left the kitchen, going back to bed, looking lighter after their talk. He finished his drink. How wrong of him to offer Epel advice that he himself would never take. A courageous person indeed, one he most certainly was not. All that talk about being brave and following your heart was laughable coming from him. Despite how open he seemed, he often felt that all he did was hide.
It wasn’t always that way, he thought as he made his way up to his dorm, heart heavy. For him, romance was a beast that had bested him once before. He was young, just before getting into NRC, just a child himself, and perhaps way too young to have any notions of true love, but that didn’t tamper down the beast in his chest, not when confronted with Andreas, Monsieur Azalea, his perfect boy, so beautiful and confident. Quietly skilled in everything, and a whole two years older, adding an allure of maturity that Rook had never even known he liked. Rook had fallen hard and fast, he always did with anything, be it romance, people, even stories. Rook never had it in him to temper his feelings, and so he let his heart lead him fearlessly.
When he was first struck by cupid's bow he had taken to it like he had taken to practically anything that had caught his fancy. He had followed its desired path. So he had courted Andreas, and he had been so blinded by his own feelings, that he let the beast in his heart lead him straight into a trap.
How fitting was the title of Azalea. Such a beautiful flower and Rook had associated it with Andreas to the way the name had rolled off his tongue. He didn’t know at the time that it was poisonous. Pretty yet deadly, that truly was fitting for Andreas. His lips had promised sweetness, but his tongue only gave pain.
And now? Now Rook had become a wounded animal, hiding away in a cave to lick his scars, still acknowledging the existence of that beast called romance, even admiring its beauty, and daring to dream of a day he no longer hid. But that day would not come. He would watch that frightening beast march around in his heart, and he would hide, unable to broach the idea. Le Chasseure D’amour indeed.
It seemed as if Rook had a thing for beautiful yet dangerous men, for in recent years, Vil had taken residence in Rook’s heart, and the creature yearned to pursue, yet he could not bring himself to do so. Not after what had happened, and not with how similar Vil was to his Monsieur Azalea.
Now Rook wasn’t stupid, he knew Vil was not the same person, that Vil could never be so wicked. No matter how close he got, that wasn’t truly what lay in Vil’s heart. But still. The poise, the beauty, the confidence, the excellence. So much of what Rook had seen in Andreas was also at home in Vil. Perhaps even more at home, since for Vil those traits did not mask a hidden darkness. Not really. The poison that Vil carried he wore proudly on his sleeve. And as deadly as it was, he could never be so devastating.
Rook knew all that, and yet, he still feared. Roi du Poison was as much a title as it was a warning. He loved Vil, he truly did, and these feelings he held close to his heart threatened to burst through. And he let them. He was Rook Hunt after all, no one would question his antics. But sometimes it hurt, and the beast in his heart would cry seeing how its own expressions of desire got disregarded as nothing more than quirkiness. He wished to comfort it, but couldn’t. The only true way to bring it comfort would be to tell the truth, and well, Rook was too afraid to do so. As he said, he was a hypocrite.
The next morning found Rook preparing a smoothie at just before six. Vil would be getting back from his run with Jack, and it would not do to leave him without the proper nourishment he needed. As the blender came to a stop the door to the kitchen swung open.
“Ah, Roi du Poison, you are just on time, je viens juste de finir ,” he poured the contents of the blender into a glass cup, dropping a metal straw in it before handing it to Vil.
“Thank you,” Vil said, taking a small sip, “Your attention to my morning need is appreciated.”
“It is no problem,” Rook said, removing his hat and taking an exaggerated bow, “I live but to serve you.”
A small smile graced Vil’s face along with a playful glean in his eyes. Oh how much Rook adored that look.
“Be that as it may,” he said, “I am still grateful for your service. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must shower. I’ve managed to work up a sweat, and it doesn’t do well for me to sit and let it fester.”
“Ah, but the natural glow it gives you is most enchanteur, many would kill to look like you after such physical exertion.”
“Well, then I’d hate to see what they’d do to look like me when I try.”
“Even I shudder at the thought.”
Vil took another sip of his smoothie, and then put it on the counter to go shower. Oh what Rook would give to play these games everyday for the rest of his life. Anything, that was, besides risking his heart.
For Rook the day carried on like any other. Class, homework, tending to Vil, Science club, and of course a little bit of hunting, just to round out the day. A perfectly fine day, and one that left him happy to clean up the dinner mess. That was how he found himself alone in the company of Epel once again. The younger student had volunteered to help Rook, and he had a sneaking suspicion it had at least something to do with their conversation from the previous night.
The two of them cleaned in silence for a few minutes as the other dorm members dispersed for whatever it was they deemed necessary for their attention at this time. Rook knew that right about now Vil would be doing his evening yoga before going through his nighttime skin care routine.
Almost as soon as the last dorm member disappeared from view Epel turned his attention to Rook, abandoning his cleaning duties.
“Hey Rook, I wanted to thank you. You know,” he glanced around carefully and half whispered the next bit, “for your advice. It actually helped.”
Rook smiled. As much of a fraud, he felt giving that advice, he was glad to see that for Epel it had seemed to go well. In the end that was all that really mattered after all. Making sure that other people could be happy, even if it left him feeling like a liar.
“Tres bien! I take it that things went over well with Monsieur Fier-a-Bras?”
“Ssshhh!” Epel hissed, “Keep your voice down, I don’t want anyone to hear you.”
Epel cast another long look around the kitchen as if to make sure no one else was there, though Rook could have easily informed him that much. When he seemed satisfied with the apparent lack of people he turned his attention back to where Rook stood waiting, a smile broke across the young boy's face.
“Ok, yeah it did,” he said, “He wasn’t mad at all, he didn’t want to stop being friends, and I think maybe he might have admitted to maybe feeling kind of the same. I think. Of course, it doesn’t really matter, since neither of us actually wants to do anything like that,” Epel made a face. Oh young minds, “but it’s still, you know, kind of nice.”
“Magnifique Monsieur, je suis content de l'entendre. I am happy to hear it.”
“Yeah.”
They sat for a few more seconds, Epel appeared to have lost himself to his thoughts, so Rook turned his attention back to his task at hand. He only managed to get done wiping a little bit more of the counter before Epel spoke again.
“Um Rook,” Epel said, voice now holding a new tone of, confusion perhaps? Rook couldn’t fully tell, and he turned back to Epel, feeling compelled to see what shifted the younger boy’s mood so quickly.
“Oui?”
“I was just wondering,” Epel’s face screwed up as if he were looking for the right words, “Well, since you call yourself ‘Chasseur d’Amour’ and all…”
And suddenly Rook knew where this was going. He turned his attention back to cleaning as he let Epel speak.
“Well, it got me thinking, I’ve never seen you involved with anyone, and I even asked some of the other dorm members, but they said as long as you’ve been here you’ve been single. But like, the advice you gave me felt like you were speaking from experience.”
“Oui, I was,” Rook refused to turn around.
“Oh. But when? And how?”
“I do not wish to discuss it.”
“What?” Epel’s voice rang with surprise, “Why not? Did someone- did someone die or something?”
He whispered the last part, and Rook couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. He turned around to see a concerned expression on Epel’s face.
“Non, mon ami,” he shook his head with a smile, though inwardly he felt himself sigh. Perhaps a little context was necessary. “I was just young. Young and dumb, and a little blind. What should have been a joyous part of my life was anything but. I regret to say I had, how should I say this, fallen for the wrong guy.”
“Oh,” Epel said, and then sat there in silence for a moment. Rook could only imagine exactly what thoughts were going through Epel’s mind, probably not the exact situation. He wasn’t too bothered by that, he preferred to not burden others with details. It was his story to carry and his alone. “I’m sorry,” Epel finished.
“Ah, don’t apologize, s’il vous plaît. You had nothing to do with it, and the past is past. I let it stay there.”
He kept his smile on his face as he talked. Letting it drop would reveal his own pain. It was better to keep it light for Epel.
“So was that really the only person you’ve fallen for then?”
Rook looked away from Epel. “Perhaps.”
“Are you lying to me!?”
Of course Rook could have just said no and moved on with it, but maybe it was the fact that Epel sounded so offended, or maybe it was just that he was Rook, and he wasn’t particularly fond of lying, but regardless he let out a heavy sigh.
“Oui Monsieur Crabapple. There have been others, or, perhaps more accurately, another.”
Epel looked absolutely affronted, and it made Rook want to giggle, though he suppressed it for Epel’s sake.
“And you haven’t done anything about it!?”
“Non.”
“Why not!?”
Rook shook his head and chuckled. “Sometimes a bad experience leaves a scar, and when on the heart, scars often blossom into chains.”
“Well that’s bullshit,” Epel proclaimed, and Rook was taken aback by just how aggressively he said it. “If you fall you get back up, same thing with romance right? If what you said is true and it is supposed to lead to all this freedom and happiness and other shit by bein’ honest, I don’t see why one person’s gotta ruin it. Also if I have to confess, you should have to too.”
He ended his rant with an angry pout, and Rook couldn’t help himself, he let out a long and loud laugh. The kid made a point. Not one that Rook hadn’t thought about before, but it did sound a little different coming from someone else.
“What? What’s so funny?” Epel demanded.
It took a moment for Rook to regain some breath, but when he did he waved off Epel’s concerns. “Ce n’est rien. You have just given me something to think about is all.”
“Well good,” Epel said, crossing his arms, “I better hear you’ve confessed or something in the next few days. Got it?” After a moment pause Epel made another face. Such an expressive boy. “See, now look what you’ve gone and done. You made me sound all gross and romantic encouraging you to pursue someone. Just so you know, I only think it’s unfair that you convinced me to talk about it, and you don’t do the same.”
Rook shook his head, remnants of his laughter still escaping his lips. “Let us finish our work.”
Epel pouted a little, but after a second he obliged, and for the next few minutes they cleaned in silence. Rook mulled over what Epel had said in his mind. It was true when you fall once you get back up. How little Rook would have excelled at had he quit at the first failure. And looking at it from another way, Epel’s way perhaps, he could see how it appeared that Rook had allowed one person to ruin his chance at that freedom he talked about. And maybe he had. But in matters of the heart, it was so much harder to get back up.
“Wait a second,” Epel said, breaking the silence and Rook’s train of thought, “How come you told me to follow my heart when it ended badly for you?”
“Ah, that is because I know how it should end,” he said, “And I know that where I fell for the wrong boy, Monsieur Fier-a-Bras is very much a good one. I should know, Savanaclaw is the dorm I find the most fun in hunting afterall.”
Epel cast him a look that Rook had grown fond of seeing on people’s faces over the years. He cast him a look that screamed ‘C’est quoi la merde, Rook!?’
After the two of them had finished cleaning up, Rook had prepared Vil a relaxing evening tea to help him go to sleep. It was his usual routine, but tonight he couldn’t help but feel extra nervous as he made it. Epel was right of course, Rook shouldn’t let one guy hold him back. He knew that he shouldn’t, but he didn’t want to be hurt like that again, and he was happy just being around Vil, even if it meant never being with him. What more could he ask for?
Besides, even if he did decide to go for it he didn’t know whether he even could say anything. Going so long stamping it down makes it hard to let the feelings out in a more straightforward way. After all, when one lives cowering from the beast, they would find it difficult to approach it on their own.
He shook his thoughts away as he reached Vil’s door. He knocked with his tea set on hand, and waited for the other boy to let him in.
The door swung open to reveal Vil clothed in beautiful satin pajamas and an ornate silk house coat over top.
“Ah Rook, I was beginning to think you forgot,” he commented, stepping aside to let Rook enter, which Rook obliged and set the tea down on Vil’s bedside table.
“Roi du Poison, you wound me so, I could never forget about you,” he replied, “I just got caught up talking with Monsieur Crabapple for a bit.”
Vil perched on the edge of his bed and poured out a glass for himself before indicating for Rook to join him. “How is Epel? He seemed excited this evening, and practically jumped at the chance to help you with the kitchen. I’m fairly convinced he would have fought someone for the spot.”
Rook allowed himself a small smile. Vil cared greatly for young Epel, and while Epel may struggle to see it with Vil’s more demanding ways of showing his affection, Rook was lucky enough to be privy to his more quiet ways of showing care.
“Tres bien! He had an issue that was eating at him last night, but we had a little talk, and now voila! All good.”
Vil arched an eyebrow. “Epel came to you for advice? And he actually took it?”
Rook almost laughed at the clear disbelief on his face. He could understand the skepticism considering Epel’s stubbornness at times.Or his own ideas that often got perceived as outlandish.
“Oui! It was quite the bonding moment.”
“Huh. What did he need advice for exactly?”
“Ah,” Rook put his hand out and waggled his finger in Vil’s face, eliciting a surprised expression, before bringing the finger back to his own lips. “Mes levres are sealed. Je promis Monsieur Crabapple to say nothing to anyone, including you Beautiful Vil, and I intend to stay true to my word.”
Secrets of the heart were serious matters after all. Rook would hate to spill something so treasured, even if Vil likely could pick up on it himself. He thought of his own secret. He’d hate to spill that one too.
Looking at Vil right now, eyebrow arched in a perfectly practiced expression of ‘unimpressed’ so perfect in fact that Rook could glean the cracks. The fact that Vil was more curious than anything, and also that he was happy. Perhaps that could be due to progress with Epel, perhaps due to having fun here with him. The important thing was he was happy. It made his heart clench. Yeah, he’d hate to spill his own heart’s secret, but at the same time, he’d kind of love it too.
The feelings that longed to be free scratched at his throat, and with them came the same creeping fear he felt every time they made themselves known. The fear of repeating his history. He swallowed down the claws in his throat, reaching for his own cup of tea to drown them away.
“Rook, are you alright?” Vil’s voice and snapping fingers broke Rook out of his reverie. He realized, perhaps with less shame than he should have, that he had been staring.
“Oui, Roi du Poison, just captivated by your beauty,” he answered. Not exactly a lie.
Vil let a small smile grace his lips at the answer. A smile that didn’t quite catch his eyes, and Rook knew that Vil could tell he was holding something back. Something that he also wouldn’t push on. Vil respected Rook’s privacy.
In that moment though Rook wished he wouldn’t. He wished, just a little that Vil would pry, and force him to spill his heart. It was less scary if he was forced to do it. Like a lion tamer leading you to the beast instead of having to approach it for yourself.
But that was silly wasn’t it. He never needed anyone to lend him a hand with a beast before. Epel was right, whenever Rook struggled in the past, he always righted himself. There was no animal that he hadn’t managed to capture in some capacity. He was a hunter, not the hunted. A single person shouldn’t define his future. In the grand scheme of life, that was just a fleeting moment, stretched out only cause he let it keep its fangs in. But he was Rook Hunt. He was supposed to be free, he was supposed to follow his heart's desire with reckless abandon, and why shouldn’t he? Because some boy years ago hurt him? Some boy who, despite surface appearances, deep down was nothing like Vil.
And even if Vil never returned his feelings, he would still let Rook stay with him. In his heart of hearts he knew Vil would never dismiss him. Vil had countless admirers, unavoidable really, he was used to being loved by those around him. The only real change would be a weight being lifted from Rook’s chest, the ability to run free with the creature in his heart, instead of cowering.
He sighed and set down his cup of tea.
“Roi du Poison, I was just thinking, because I had given our own Monsieur Crabapple some advice, but I must confess he provided me with some of his own as well. If I don’t follow it I don’t think he will be content de moi.”
“Really? And what would this advice entail?” Vil asked, setting aside his own drink and turning to face Rook even more, resting his chin on his fist and basically becoming a picture of listening. Rook felt a smile tug at his lips.
“Voulez-vous savoir?”
“I asked, didn't I?”
Rook smiled. “As you wish Roi du Poison,” he sighed deeply, “You see I have a… painful memory. Quite the hindrance really. Before coming to this school I found myself très épris avec un garcon. He was quite beautiful and charming, and unfortunately very cruel.
“But we aren’t going to talk about all that. What does need to be said is he left a wound on my heart, and ever since then pursual of any romantic endeavors has been impossible.
“Now, notre ami Monsieur Crabapple has told me that’s stupid, and if I have fallen in love again that I should not let one guy ruin it.”
“Epel said that?” Vil asked, to which Rook nodded. “Wow, didn’t know he had a romantic bone in that little body of his.”
“I think we’d both be surprised,” Rook smirked.
“Regardless,” Vil said, shaking his head. He caught Rook’s gaze with a serious expression, one that told there would be no disagreeing. “He is right. I don’t think you should let fear run your life. Especially not you. You’re scared of nothing, and it doesn’t suit you. Quite the opposite, I think that being foolishly fearless is much more your style. After all, it doesn’t do well to have a hunter who is afraid to shoot his shot.”
Rook chuckled at that, and there was a playfulness in Vil’s expression. He supposed he wasn’t that great at hiding after all. Well if he was doing this anyways may as well roll with it.
“You’re right of course. And I do suspect you can guess what comes next.”
Vil shrugged, but there was no hiding the gleam in his eyes, or the hint of a smile. “Enlighten me.”
Rook shook his head with a smile and stood up. If Vil wanted the fanfare then it was fanfare he would get. He stepped in front of where Vil was perched on the edge of his bed, who turned to face him as he did so. Rook then got down on both knees in front of Vil, set his hat to the side, and took Vil’s hands into his own. Vil looked on with a faux shocked expression.
“My Beautiful Vil, I have something to say to you. Something that has been in my heart for a long time now. Je t’aime. I love you, and I have been in love with you for practically our entire time here. You are beautiful, elegant, and graceful. You’re also strong and intelligent and you are the best leader Pomefiore could ask for. You are kind and full of love, that may go unnoticed by many, but I see it Vil Schoenheit. I see you.”
Carefully Rook raised one of Vil’s hands up and gently kissed his knuckles. When he looked back up it was a true smile of joy on Vil’s face. An image that caused Rook’s heart to roar, and one he knew he would cherish.
“Desole it took me so long to tell you. I was afraid, but now that I’ve managed to release this burden I can promise that I will be the fearless hunter you know me as.
“Now, Roi du Poison, would you do me the honor of going out with moi?”
Vil pulled his one hand out of Rook’s grasp and brought it up to tap his chin in consideration, though he still wore a smile on his face. Rook knew he had nothing to worry about.
“You know I have expensive taste. It can be difficult to keep up with,” he teased.
“Ah, but you know I have both the means and the willingness to do just that.”
“Do you?” Vil lowered his hand back into Rook’s, “Well then, I guess I’ll just have to let you show me. Give you a bit of a trial run if you will.”
“Oui, that is all I ask,” Rook bowed his head, but couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. This all almost felt like a dream.
“Actually, mon cheri,” he said, looking back up. “There is one more thing I must ask.”
“Oh,” Vil arched an eyebrow, “And what’s that?”
“Would you allow me the privilege of kissing you?”
Vil let out a laugh, a musical sound, and peeled one hand out of Rook’s to cover his mouth. Any pretense of the cool act was gone. When he finished he fixed Rook with a softer look than before and a small smile. Gently his hand reached out and brushed back a lock of Rook’s hair back. Rook could only lean slightly into the hand, feeling drawn to Vil’s touch.
“I wish you would,” Vil answered.
And that was all Rook needed. He stood up and brought one hand up to cup Vil’s face and the other one right beside where Vil sat to steady himself. He let his thumb caress Vil’s cheek as he took his time, drinking in the scene before him. Vil looked at him with soft eyes full of something even Rook had never seen in him before. A mixture of longing, anticipation, and true happiness. Rook could look at it all day. But first he had something to attend to, and his heart skipped as allowed himself to close the gap between him and Vil.
When their lips met it wasn’t an explosion of fireworks. That would come on a different day. This kiss was soft, and the second Rook’s lips touched Vil’s he felt a thousand flowers slowly come to bloom in his chest, releasing a rainbow of color and beauty. This was the feeling he always dreamed of.
He kept the kiss slow and gentle, savoring the feel of Vil’s mouth pressed against his. There was no need to rush this. No need to rush any of it.
When they finally pulled apart Rook rested his forehead against Vil’s and smiled.
“C’est magnifique,” he breathed and Vil let out a little huff of a laugh.