Work Text:
It was midnight.
The dormitory seemed frozen in place. Every hallway of Pomefiore’s luxurious residence sat completely still, the only sounds echoing throughout the quiet corridors being the extravagant tap of the housewarden’s heels. His breath remained soft and steady amidst the cold air as he roamed through the dormitory, ensuring everything was in order and that all was put to rest for the evening.
Deep down, however, Vil knew he was a hypocrite.
He had drilled it into every one of his freshmen’s heads, starting this year, that every student was supposed to be in their bedrooms and in a deep slumber by ten in the evening. It was fitting for the amount of rest one needed for the evening: they had to be awake and well-rested by morning to complete every single one of their morning routines, after all.
Yet, here he was.
Wide awake, roaming the dormitory without a care for his beauty sleep.
Sevens, what was wrong with him?
When the sun inevitably rose, he knew he would regret his decision. His body movements would be sluggish with fatigue and he would have an awful, pounding ache inside his head.
Yet, despite the many sips of tea and whatever evening yoga stretches he did, slumber couldn’t put him to rest. He figured a walk through the dormitory would do him some good: it would grant him a breath of fresh air, allow him to collect his thoughts, and allow him to patrol the building. He was sure his dorm members would be asleep by now. It wasn’t like any of them were foolish to break Vil’s dormitory protocol, right?
(…There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that thought otherwise, however.)
He had done a lap on every single floor and was planning to walk back into his bedroom quarters before a particular sound made him pause in his step.
There was a noise.
He stilled and silenced himself, listening closely. He had excellent hearing, and although the sound was muffled, Vil’s ears still caught it.
It sounded like it was coming from the living quarters’ bathrooms.
His heels silently strolled over, approaching closer to the door. The hallway’s evening lights were the only things emitting light in the dark corridors. The bathroom’s lights weren’t even turned on. Upon listening closer, he realized that a tap was running. Not just any tap—a shower tap.
Who in their right mind would take a shower at midnight? With the lights off, no less?
He approached the door closer, resting his ear against the porcelain white door. The sound of water running echoed throughout the otherwise silent room.
But Vil could hear something else, hidden and disguised from the noise.
Gentle, muffled sobbing. Somebody who was trying their best to remain silent, all while letting their emotions run and pour with the water.
His hands found the doorknob, twisting and pushing the door open. Despite his efforts to remain silent, the door creaked ever-so-slightly.
There was the sound of water rushing down, steam emitting from the closed curtains. To the naked ear, the sound of someone’s sobbing wouldn’t be heard. But Vil could recognize the signs. Whilst all the shower curtains remained open and empty, the furthest one from the entrance had the curtain closed, with a shadow’s tiny figure hidden inside it.
Unfortunately, this was no uncommon occurrence. Vil knew all too well who the person in the shower could be.
Vil cleared his throat—a silent yet polite way to announce his presence to the hidden individual.
As expected, the person’s crying ceased, a quiet yet noticeable hitch in their breath. Vil took a step forward, watching the shadow’s figure closely. The figure’s shadow was the same size as a particular boy that Vil knew far too well. As for hearing their attempts at muffling their sobs…
He silently took a moment to think before speaking again.
“…Epel,” he started. “Are you alright?”
"I'm fine," the mumbled response was immediate; the other boy's voice seemed to quaver as he replied, almost ready to crack once more.
Vil took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the difficult conversation that would inevitably begin.
“Please don’t lie to me,” the housewarden said, keeping his tone as gentle as he could and taking a step forward. “How long have you been in the shower?”
For a moment, there was silence. Nothing but the water running and the tension in the air thickening. Vil could feel his own heart hammering in his chest while his eyes stared forward at the figure. The water bill wasn’t anything to worry about—Night Raven College handled the dormitory expenses, after all.
Instead, it was the wilting apple under the shower’s suffocating water that Vil was more worried about.
Of course, there was the physical aspect that Vil was worrying about. Showering for too long can cause conditions like skin dehydration and irritation. The boy could burn himself if he stayed in such hot water for long enough, and judging by the steam emitting from the curtains, it was clearly scorching. Besides the temperature, showering in the dark was hazardous in itself.
However, there was another aspect Vil was worrying about as well: the boy’s mental state.
This wasn’t the first time Vil found Epel drowning himself in the shower like this, and as much as he hated it, it turned into a common occurrence to discover. The boy was evidently trying to drown out some thoughts or feelings while he stood in the shower—or perhaps he felt too dysphoric to move or take care of himself.
From all the previous times, Vil knew the boy had been stuck in the shower for at least an hour, if not more.
There was a muffled sniffle, then a silent murmur, “Dunno.”
Vil wouldn’t chastise the boy’s improper grammar—he knew much better than to do that. He moved to turn on the bathroom’s central lights, dimming them as much as possible. He didn’t want to discomfort the boy in the shower by brightening up the entire room, but trying to navigate the dark room was obviously a hazard.
After dimming the lights, Vil approached the showers.
“What’s wrong?” the housewarden asked softly. “Is it dysphoria? Something related to your cycle? Or…?”
“‘S both,” the muffled reply came, forced and rushed. Vil's heart nearly broke once more just from hearing the other boy's anguish.
Vil stayed quiet for a moment, eyes looking downward at the floor as his thoughts stirred. He understood, of course he did—with a person's time of the month came an inevitable cycle that any person would dread, but especially any individual who thought their body didn’t belong to them.
That was the same situation as Epel was in.
And, as always, with the coming of his cycle came the bringing of an inevitable dysphoric disaster.
But Vil would be the unmoving boulder to protect his apple.
“You don’t need to get out of the shower,” he started, trying to keep his tone as gentle as can be. “I’m just…”
“Worried,” the voice behind the shower curtain interrupted. “Yeah. I know.”
There was a pause. Vil wasn’t sure what to say next. All his brain could think of was to remain standing in front of the shower, absentmindedly tapping his manicured nails against his crossed arms.
“…You’re a boy,” Vil spoke without another thought. “Even if you don’t believe so. Even if everything is making you think otherwise. You are a wonderful, beautiful boy.”
Vil heard the smallest hitch of the other boy’s breath, yet he heard no movement.
Yet… Vil could hear the doubt racing through Epel's mind.
He continued, eyes staring up at the elegant lights hanging from the ceiling. “I mean it. I know you may think I’m just saying it as an attempt to comfort you or get you out of the shower, but I’m not.”
“Mm.”
Still, there was no sound of movement from the other boy.
“You’re a boy. Believe me when I say this—you’re strong. Strong for everything you’ve gone through to come this far. You…”
Vil’s voice trailed off as he pondered his thoughts. He thought back to orientation—back to the night when he first met the boy.
Epel was rowdy and bold—perhaps too bold for his own good. He appeared lost in his ways, spouting misogynistic nonsense and sounding absolutely ridiculous to Vil. He could understand Epel’s natural dialect enough, and though its naturality was beautiful, the offensive words which he spoke left a bitter taste in Vil’s mouth. The boy didn’t think; he acted entirely on impulse, attempting to fight Vil without a second of hesitation, and whined when he inevitably lost their first battle.
From their first interaction, Vil knew their first fight would be far from their last. And his gut feeling proved right—the magic mirror didn’t hesitate a single second to assign Epel to Pomefiore.
Which had meant Epel would be under his care.
Upon seeing the boy’s behaviour in their dormitory, Vil knew in an instant—Epel differed from the rest of Pomefiore’s students. Epel made his desire to be sorted into Savanaclaw very obvious, constantly complaining about every single one of the dorm’s routines.
Unlike his peers who were serious about Pomefiore’s beauty routines and exercises, Epel's interests were quite different. Epel defied the dormitory’s rules and expectations early on, right at the start of the year. Without hesitation, Vil considered him one of the most difficult students he had the pleasure of dealing with.
But despite the troubles the young boy seemed to stir, Vil knew Epel was different from the rest.
So, inevitably, Vil found himself taking on another responsibility—a responsibility above all his other housewarden duties.
To break Epel free from his awful, offensive, traditional ways. To teach the boy basic self-respect and manners, while also teaching the boy to break from his dysphoric thoughts and embrace his natural self.
He could see that the boy could bloom into something wonderful. Something absolutely beautiful.
Vil just needed to help the boy realize and understand.
Epel had come a long way since the start of the school year. He had broken free from his misogynistic thoughts and inconsiderate, bigoted mindset. Though there was still room for progress, the boy had already come so far. Just the thought of his improvement made Vil’s heart swell with pride.
With their time spent together, they gradually grew closer. The two learnt more and more about each other. The two shared stories and secrets about themselves that any outsider wouldn’t know.
(Besides their huntsman, of course—but that man was another enigmatic beauty altogether.)
One of Epel’s deepest and most vulnerable secrets he had revealed to Vil was his gender identity.
Epel was a transgender boy.
Vil had his suspicions, of course, but hearing actual confirmation was different. Though it explained a lot about the boy: from his traditionalist thoughts on gender, to many of his mannerisms…
Nonetheless, Vil provided the other boy an abundance of comfort and reassurance. As someone whose identity was beyond the gender binary, Vil knew far too well how suffocating the world could sometimes feel.
The boy had certainly come a long way from when they first met.
That didn’t mean the episodes of dysphoria had magically stopped, though.
Some days were worse than others, of course. Dysphoria remained a strong and prominent problem for the boy.
“…You’re strong, Epel. I’m proud of you—you’ve come such a long way since the start of the school year. You’ve grown into something inexplicably beautiful. And I’m so, so proud of you. I doubt anybody else in the school could withstand what you have.”
There was a thick silence.
Vil could practically hear the silent words racing through Epel’s mind: “I’m not that strong. Other students could certainly handle it. I’m not anything special. Other guys would’ve been able to fight back the dysphoria just as easily. They wouldn’t cry or sob like I have.”
Just thinking about whatever self-deprecatory nonsense Epel was thinking made Vil’s stomach churn.
“Stop,” Vil said, his delivery sharp yet firm. “I can practically hear the thoughts racing through your head. Quit it.”
But Vil knew it was much easier said than done.
Vil could tell Epel to stop thinking those thoughts, of course, but stopping the dysphoria thoughts was nearly impossible.
But Vil knew they’d both be damned if he didn’t try.
“You’re a boy. Please believe me. Stop thinking about yourself—about your body, about your cycle, about every other person on this all-boys damned campus. You’re a boy. And I’m honest when I say this: nothing will change that. Not your sex, not your cycle, not any other thing.”
There was another moment of silence. Vil found his mouth continuing to ramble.
“When I think of you… I think of a wonderful, beautiful, strong-willed boy. A stubborn one at that, but rightfully so. I think of the boy he has grown into now, from his traditional and bigoted thinking habits to his present self. He has grown from a wilting spud to a beautiful apple. My poisoned apple.”
There was a pause.
“I love you, Epel. No matter what.”
Vil could hear the silent sobs escaping the younger boy's lips once more.
“Let it all out, darling. It’s okay,” Vil reassured. “It’s alright. I’m here for you, okay? I’ll be waiting out here for you. Whenever you’re ready.”
There was no sound in the room besides Epel’s quiet sobs and the shower running.
Vil didn’t know how long he’d be waiting outside the showers—for the sake of the other boy’s health, he hoped Epel would emerge from the shower curtains soon.
But he didn’t care how long it would take. Whether it would take a few minutes or a few hours. Whether the sun would be up by the time Epel left the showers. Whether Vil would feel exhausted with bags under his eyes from a lack of sleep while waiting for the other boy…
“...Fine. I’ll get outta the shower.”
Epel seemed to answer his silent plea.
Vil let out a sigh he hadn’t even been aware he had been holding.
“Thank you. Would you like anything, darling? A heating pad? Medicine? A water bottle? Any sweet treat you might be craving?”
“Yeah. I’d want all that. With… some macarons, I guess.”
“Of course. You already brought your clothing with you, too, yes? With a hygiene product?”
“Mhm.”
“Okay. I’ll be back before you know it, my dear."
By the time Vil returned to the dormitory’s shared bathroom quarters, he found Epel wrapped up in an oversized towel, staring at his reflection through the full-length mirror stretched on the dormitory wall.
Seeing the soulless and blank expression in Epel’s eyes made Vil’s heart break all over again.
Vil gently cleared his throat to try capturing the other boy’s attention, “Ahem. I’ve returned, Epel.”
Epel’s body didn’t budge. His eyes seemed glued to the mirror.
“Epel?”
The boy still didn’t move.
Vil let out a gentle sigh. He put down the items he carried in the bathroom before approaching behind the boy.
Vil’s hands stretched out, slowly and gently intertwining their fingers together.
At the gradual contact, Epel’s eyes snapped from the mirror to meet Vil’s loving, lavender gaze. Vil stayed silent for a moment, conveying warmth and emotions without uttering a single word. His grip on Epel’s hands was not tight. The boy could pull his hands away if he desired—if he felt too uncomfortable.
But when Epel’s smaller fingers squeezed around Vil’s in silent gratitude, Vil couldn’t help a smile in relief spread across his face.
“I brought you the items you requested,” Vil eventually spoke, his tone soft. “Did you bring a change of clothes with you?”
Epel nodded. He had yet to utter a word.
But that was alright with Vil—he would do the talking for both of them.
“Alright. You can change if you wish. I’ll step outside—”
Epel’s soft grip around his hand suddenly tightened. It interrupted Vil’s line of speech for a moment.
“Hm? You… want me to stay?”
A nod.
“Are you sure?”
The younger boy nodded once more.
“...Hm. Alright, then,” Vil said after a moment’s pause. “Come with me, then. Your body is surely begging for some lotion—especially after such a hot shower.”
Epel followed beside him without another word, his grip on Vil’s hand nearly bruising. Vil didn’t dare say a single word, navigating them silently to the post-shower rooms.
Once there, Vil sat Epel down on a nearby ottoman while grabbing a nearby bottle of lotion.
“Did you want to put the lotion on yourself?” Vil asked.
Epel shook his head. No.
That was a change from what the boy regularly said.
“You’d like… me to put it on? Are you sure?”
The boy nodded. Yes.
Vil quickly shook away the look of surprise on his expression, clearing his throat. “Okay… right, then. Stay still. Don’t think about your body, darling, okay? I’ll take care of it.”
Epel nodded before closing his eyes.
In the dim lighting of the room, Vil averted his gaze as he began to moisturize the smaller boy’s body. His hands moved with familiarity, tracing over the boy’s figure while keeping a soft approach.
Vil could tell Epel was still tense—which was understandable, considering the situation. Yet, Vil prioritized Epel’s comfort: he allowed his hands to blindly navigate through Epel’s body, keeping his eyes away from the other boy’s body.
It was a silent minute. The air between them remained heavy with unsaid thoughts and words, yet a tinge of comfort and reassurance resonated between them.
When Vil was finished, he moved towards the sinks to wash his hands. From the mirror, he could see as Epel began to dress himself hastily in comfortable clothes—clothing that looked twice his size.
Vil cleared his throat. “Are you alright, now?”
Epel shrugged, keeping his mouth shut.
Vil handed out the heating pad—the younger boy took it wordlessly, giving a subtle nod as thanks. As the boy stuffed it underneath his baggy cardigan, Vil plugged in the hair dryer, turning it to the maximum setting before he began to blow-dry Epel’s hair.
His fingers carded through soft lavender strands. Vil hoped the loud sound of the blow dryer and the methodical movement of his manicured fingers inside Epel's hair would be enough of a distraction from his dysphoric thoughts.
It was a calming, mindless, simple motion. It took a few minutes before the boy’s hair was finally dried, strands puffing everywhere in a way similar to his bed hair: soft, fluffy, and adorable.
“There we are,” Vil hummed. “Your hair is all dried. Now, we should bring you back to your bedroom: you need to rest for the night, after all.”
Epel’s hand squeezed tightly around his.
Vil perked his head. “Hm? What is it?”
Epel stared at him for a moment.
“…Ah. Right,” Vil reached for the painkillers in his bag, continuing. “Remember, it’s only one pill every few hours, alright? Take just one—even if the cramping is unbearable right now. It will pass by.”
The lavender-haired boy nodded. Vil handed him the medicine and a small water bottle, guiding him from the dimly lit bathroom to the dormitory’s bedroom quarters. Their footsteps echoed throughout the dark corridors—the entire dormitory being enveloped in rest and sleep.
When they approached the door of his shared dorm room, Epel didn’t let go of his hand, nor did he say anything to Vil.
“Hm? What? You need to sleep one way or another, darling.”
Epel squeezed his hand again.
“...You don’t want to sleep in your dorm room tonight, do you?”
The boy nodded.
“You’d like to sleep in my room.”
Another nod.
“...”
Vil took a deep breath.
“...Alright, then. Come.”
Epel followed closely behind, keeping his grip tight on Vil’s hand. Vil led him further through Pomefiore’s halls. No sounds were echoing through the empty corridor except for the click of Vil’s heels, followed by the gentler, quieter patter of Epel’s feet.
Eventually, they reached Vil’s door. Vil silently opened the door and gestured the boy inside, closing the door behind him. He turned on and dimmed the bedroom light above his bed, engulfing the room in a faint but warm light.
He watched as Epel approached the queen-sized bed, taking a seat on the edge and curling up into a small ball almost instantly.
“You can curl under the covers,” Vil said, opening his closet to grab some long fabrics. “I’ll be there with you shortly.”
Epel’s eyes darted to look at Vil, curiosity and wonder plastered on his face. Vil understood the boy’s silent question, “What are you doing…?”
“Helping to make you comfortable,” was all Vil said in response. He moved diligently within the bedroom, draping a long piece of fabric over every single mirror in his bedroom.
Covering every single mirror could eliminate Epel from experiencing any dysphoria from seeing his reflection, come sunrise. Epel’s comfort was his top priority.
And judging from how the boy’s tense shoulders seemed to relax, and seeing the boy contentedly melt into the large plush mattress and blankets beneath him… Vil could tell the boy was already feeling more relieved.
After taking off his heeled shoes, Vil got comfortable beneath the covers. He had already done his nightly routine hours ago.
Now, however… there was no longer any nagging feeling in the back of Vil’s mind.
Vil had found and helped his poisoned apple during his time of need and care, after all.
A small nudge against his chest interrupted the housewarden from his thoughts.
“Ah…?”
Upon looking down, Epel had moved closer towards him.
A gentle, warm feeling resonated inside him. Vil couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped his lips, a small smile itching on his face.
“May I hold you?”
The boy nodded, his face hidden away by lavender strands and the oversized sleeves of his sleepwear cardigan.
Vil didn’t waste another second, wrapping his arms around the smaller boy’s figure. He engulfed Epel in a familiar, comforting warmth. The housewarden's fingers mindlessly carded through Epel's hair, gently tucking away any strand covering his face.
For a few minutes, it was just silent. Nothing but their quiet breaths lingering in the air, creating a gentle rhythm. Beneath the heavy covers and plush blankets of Vil’s bed, the world seemed smaller—safer. Vil was trying his best to provide the boy a space of comfort and understanding, after all. The moonlight shone down on them, casting a faint yet natural light on them both.
“...Vil?”
It was the first thing Epel had said aloud since emerging from the shower. His voice was still soft, sounding as fragile as glass. His delicate tone inexplicably tugged at Vil’s heartstrings.
Vil replied immediately, “Yes? What is it, Epel?”
“Thanks. For… everything.”
Vil’s breath caught for a moment. Then he shook his head. “No need to thank me, my darling. You’re a beautiful, wonderful, strong boy—you’ve come so far from back then to now. I am just helping you comprehend that. You understand, right?”
Epel nodded his head—the movement small and subtle. Yet Vil understood.
“Good, good…”
Vil leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of Epel’s head.
“Sweet dreams, Epel. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
And eventually, the boy drifted off into a peaceful slumber, no longer haunted by the dysphoria which had been plaguing his mind throughout the entire day.
Once he ensured the boy was in a deep and peaceful slumber, Vil finally allowed his body and mind to rest for the night.