[He's so sweet. Too sweet. Too good. It almost hurts.
Can Vil get the words to escape his mouth, past his throat? It's so strange, feeling like this. For the most part, he was genuinely confident. Maybe to a fault.
Yet Cater's gentleness and understanding... It makes him itch. Something crawls underneath his skin. He wants to push him away. He wants to tell him to get out, and never come back. He wants to protect him so badly from himself.]
Poisonous thoughts. [He manages to murmur out. He struggles with more. Everything in him wants to refuse all of this. He's fine, he's fine, what's he getting all worried about? Cater's happy, Vil's happy, so why is he tempting fate?
He clenches his eyes shut. A tremble runs through his hands.
[Cater's smile stumbles and falls from his face as he squeezes Vil's hands more tightly. Poisonous? He both does and doesn't know what Vil means by that--he has them himself, doesn't he? But somehow it feels different. Vil's demons are not his own.
But that doesn't mean he doesn't have them. Honestly, Cater's surprised that he's only seeing them now. He supposes that even with how practiced he is at hiding himself, his dark thoughts, Vil's profession would make it even easier for him to pretend to be fine when his whole world is sinking.]
I've been broken for a long time, Vil. All you've ever done is help me start to pick back up the pieces.
[He draws one of those hands to his mouth, kisses Vil's palm.]
We might get some cuts along the way...but those'll heal.
[A shiver runs down Cater's spine. He feels himself torn in two ways: on one hand, beautiful, talented, amazing, perfect Vil...looking at him like that, touching him like that...how could you not fall into a spell? If he offered him poison by his own making, Cater isn't so sure he wouldn't drink it.
But no. It's not Vil, not really. Just like Cater isn't Cay-Cay. Vil Schoenheit, the villain. The character that he plays because it's what everyone expects of him. It gets so easy to lean into that role.]
[He's confident in his assertion, but how to put that into words that would reach Vil in this state, where he's hiding behind his own mask? This feels important, like if he messes this up, if he says something wrong, all of this ends. Cater Diamond is a glass in Vil Schoenheit's immaculate hand. One twist of his fingers and the stem could snap and be rendered useless.
Cater's eyes flicker down and away before he thinks of something and meets Vil's piercing gaze again.]
I hate sweets. [Knowing it seems like a complete topic change, he only gives it a beat before continuing.] But my Magicam is full of them. Cute colors, smiles, a carefree boy who lives in the moment, who can be friends with anyone...that's the role I was given. It gets to a point where so many people identify you in a certain way that it feels like letting them down to show anything else. So you adapt into it, no matter how much you hate it, because that's what's expected of you.
There's a sea full of people out there who think they know me, but they just see what they want to see. What I let them see. And if I have a sea of people doing that, you have the whole world. I can't even begin to imagine that kind of pressure--the weight that such a character puts on you.
[It's hard enough being happy all the time. Being a villain? It would certainly crush him.]
You wear it like a second skin, but everyone has their tells, no matter how subtle. I see it in your eyes when you're cast in another movie or TV show as the villain when you were hoping for something different. In the disappointment and the frustration with your agent. In the corners of your smile that don't turn up quite as much. In your careful wordings announcing your next project--grateful for an opportunity but never excited.
[Aren't you tired, Vil? Tired like he's tired? Cater's hand carefully touches the back of Vil's, dragging it down from his chin to his neck and leaning in.]
...but I could be kidding myself. If I am, just squeeze.
The abrupt apparent change in topic is enough to have his crooked smile fade a bit, and more so as he continues talking. His gaze never once leaves Cater as he speaks.
He's quiet through all of it, nothing giving away the thoughts within. And then Cater makes that gesture...]
It's not a light laugh; it's definitely steeped in darkness and poison.]
My, my. I had no idea you were so presumptuous. And so confidently, at that. Not to mention flirting so obviously with danger.
[He squeezes, just enough to make breathing uncomfortable.]
But I can't hold it against you for getting things backwards. Not all of us were forced into a role to begin with.
Dear Cater. Let me set things straight: I have no problems with being the villain in and of itself. In fact, I find the role very enjoyable.
No, the real problem is... [He grits his teeth now, squeezing a bit tighter. It might be hard to breathe.] I want to be the last on the stage. I want to be the one at the forefront of everyone's minds. And a villain never gets that opportunity. The one who stays on until the end is always the hero. It's always him.
[He stares into those blue eyes as if he can see directly into Cater's soul. His voice is low, humming with unspoken threat.] I am an ambitious man. A ruthless man. I have and will do everything in my power to come out on top. I haven't just beaten my competition, I've crushed them. And there is not an ounce of guilt in my heart for it. I would do it all again, and without batting an eye.
There isn't a thing in the world that could stop me from my pursuit. Not us, and not you.
Do you understand?
[He holds that grip until he gets an affirmative. And then he finally lets go.]
[For the first time in his life, from the moment he met the other boy in the Shaftlands, Cater Diamond is afraid of Vil Schoenheit. They're both so exposed here, and in that exposure, in that honesty, the hands they've thrown down couldn't be more different. As it turns out, Cater's was just a bluff. Vil has the royal flush. He manages a nod, taking in a large breath as he's released, head bowed down in a gesture of submission.]
I wouldn't dream of getting in your way.
[The last thing on his mind had been Vil's career--at least not right now. Maybe that's the problem--Vil's career is everything.
Geeze, how daft can I be? He'd laugh at himself if he were alone. Wake up, Cater. Stop living in a fantasy. When he looks back up at Vil again, Cater's smiling.]
So do whatever you need to do, okay? Use me until I'm spent.
[Everything always ends. It was stupid of him to get caught up in some notion of forever.]
[Cater stammers uselessly. Those broken pieces they'd been picking up together slipping through his cut fingers and back onto the ground again. What did I do wrong? He wants to ask. Give me another chance, he wants to plead. I'll be whatever you need me to be, he wants to promise.
It hurts. His heart hurts. His stomach aches.
Cater tears his eyes away from Vil's dismissive stance and stands, quietly picking up the nice clothing that had been so carefully removed from him and sliding back into it.]
KK. Seeya in class, Vil.
[His feet take him out of the room even as he leaves his heart behind, bleeding at Vil's feet.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Can Vil get the words to escape his mouth, past his throat? It's so strange, feeling like this. For the most part, he was genuinely confident. Maybe to a fault.
Yet Cater's gentleness and understanding... It makes him itch. Something crawls underneath his skin. He wants to push him away. He wants to tell him to get out, and never come back. He wants to protect him so badly from himself.]
Poisonous thoughts. [He manages to murmur out. He struggles with more. Everything in him wants to refuse all of this. He's fine, he's fine, what's he getting all worried about? Cater's happy, Vil's happy, so why is he tempting fate?
He clenches his eyes shut. A tremble runs through his hands.
He whispers out:]
I'll break you, Cater.
no subject
But that doesn't mean he doesn't have them. Honestly, Cater's surprised that he's only seeing them now. He supposes that even with how practiced he is at hiding himself, his dark thoughts, Vil's profession would make it even easier for him to pretend to be fine when his whole world is sinking.]
I've been broken for a long time, Vil. All you've ever done is help me start to pick back up the pieces.
[He draws one of those hands to his mouth, kisses Vil's palm.]
We might get some cuts along the way...but those'll heal.
no subject
It is not a soft smile, or a happy smile or anything of the sort. There's a certain sharp coldness to it.]
They will, will they?
Sweet Cater. There is a reason I'm always cast as the villain.
[His fingers trace over his lips.]
And you're coming dangerously close to finding out why.
no subject
But no. It's not Vil, not really. Just like Cater isn't Cay-Cay. Vil Schoenheit, the villain. The character that he plays because it's what everyone expects of him. It gets so easy to lean into that role.]
I know you better than that.
no subject
[His hand comes down to grab his chin.]
Tell me, Cater. What makes you so sure you know the real me?
no subject
[He's confident in his assertion, but how to put that into words that would reach Vil in this state, where he's hiding behind his own mask? This feels important, like if he messes this up, if he says something wrong, all of this ends. Cater Diamond is a glass in Vil Schoenheit's immaculate hand. One twist of his fingers and the stem could snap and be rendered useless.
Cater's eyes flicker down and away before he thinks of something and meets Vil's piercing gaze again.]
I hate sweets. [Knowing it seems like a complete topic change, he only gives it a beat before continuing.] But my Magicam is full of them. Cute colors, smiles, a carefree boy who lives in the moment, who can be friends with anyone...that's the role I was given. It gets to a point where so many people identify you in a certain way that it feels like letting them down to show anything else. So you adapt into it, no matter how much you hate it, because that's what's expected of you.
There's a sea full of people out there who think they know me, but they just see what they want to see. What I let them see. And if I have a sea of people doing that, you have the whole world. I can't even begin to imagine that kind of pressure--the weight that such a character puts on you.
[It's hard enough being happy all the time. Being a villain? It would certainly crush him.]
You wear it like a second skin, but everyone has their tells, no matter how subtle. I see it in your eyes when you're cast in another movie or TV show as the villain when you were hoping for something different. In the disappointment and the frustration with your agent. In the corners of your smile that don't turn up quite as much. In your careful wordings announcing your next project--grateful for an opportunity but never excited.
[Aren't you tired, Vil? Tired like he's tired? Cater's hand carefully touches the back of Vil's, dragging it down from his chin to his neck and leaning in.]
...but I could be kidding myself. If I am, just squeeze.
1/3
The abrupt apparent change in topic is enough to have his crooked smile fade a bit, and more so as he continues talking. His gaze never once leaves Cater as he speaks.
He's quiet through all of it, nothing giving away the thoughts within. And then Cater makes that gesture...]
2/3
It's not a light laugh; it's definitely steeped in darkness and poison.]
My, my. I had no idea you were so presumptuous. And so confidently, at that. Not to mention flirting so obviously with danger.
[He squeezes, just enough to make breathing uncomfortable.]
But I can't hold it against you for getting things backwards. Not all of us were forced into a role to begin with.
Dear Cater. Let me set things straight: I have no problems with being the villain in and of itself. In fact, I find the role very enjoyable.
No, the real problem is... [He grits his teeth now, squeezing a bit tighter. It might be hard to breathe.] I want to be the last on the stage. I want to be the one at the forefront of everyone's minds. And a villain never gets that opportunity. The one who stays on until the end is always the hero. It's always him.
3/3
There isn't a thing in the world that could stop me from my pursuit. Not us, and not you.
Do you understand?
[He holds that grip until he gets an affirmative. And then he finally lets go.]
no subject
I wouldn't dream of getting in your way.
[The last thing on his mind had been Vil's career--at least not right now. Maybe that's the problem--Vil's career is everything.
Geeze, how daft can I be? He'd laugh at himself if he were alone. Wake up, Cater. Stop living in a fantasy. When he looks back up at Vil again, Cater's smiling.]
So do whatever you need to do, okay? Use me until I'm spent.
[Everything always ends. It was stupid of him to get caught up in some notion of forever.]
no subject
After a moment, Vil gives a huffing sigh.]
I knew it was only a matter of time.
[Vil's a rose. Always has been. Beautiful, but dangerous.
Anyone who got too close would inevitably be torn up by his thorns.
He turns his gaze away.]
I'm no longer in the mood. Dress yourself and go back to your dorm.
And let this be a lesson to you. The beauty known as Vil Schoenheit comes laced with thorns.
Don't come too close unless you're prepared to get stabbed.
no subject
It hurts. His heart hurts. His stomach aches.
Cater tears his eyes away from Vil's dismissive stance and stands, quietly picking up the nice clothing that had been so carefully removed from him and sliding back into it.]
KK. Seeya in class, Vil.
[His feet take him out of the room even as he leaves his heart behind, bleeding at Vil's feet.]
no subject
Finally, after what seems like an eternity, he gets up. He goes over to the full body mirror just to the side of his bed.
He stares for awhile...
And then his fist slams against the mirror, causing the audible crack of glass.
He breathes heavily. Pulls his bleeding hand back.
And slams it into the mirror again. The shattering almost pierces the white noise filling his ears and mind.]