[It was a rough night. Aside from not really sleeping, thinking and overthinking the situation...it was hard not to keep beating himself up over what had happened. It had been Vil's way of crying out for help, hadn't he seen that? How had he misinterpreted things so poorly? And how had he sunken so far into his own self-pity that he couldn't reach outside of it?
When Cater finally forces himself out of bed for the morning, it's clear to him that he's not going to feel much better without talking to Vil directly. The idea of vomiting his thoughts out in the open is enough to make him want to be really sick, but it's the best he can really do. Put his feelings out there and, in turn, listen to Vil's.
So, he sends him a text. As far as he knows, Vil is free for the day...but who knows. Something could've popped up, or maybe he won't be ready to talk yet and will pretend that he's booked. Not really Vil's style, but Cater can't help thinking it. Somehow, being left on read completely isn't what he's expecting. WTF?
Well, for now, all he can do is head out and try not to obsess. Do not spam Vil Schoenheit's phone with needy texts, he tells himself. It was one thing when he was having a total meltdown while they weren't fighting. Doing it now would just be desperate. Coffee. He needs coffee. Breakfast.
He keeps checking his phone to see if the little "..." might pop up in their text history all the way to and from the cafeteria. Cater's intending to head back to Heartslabyul when he glances up to see Vil. From someone else's view, it might've almost looked like something out of a romance film. Cater looking up from his phone at the top of the main building's staircase. Vil pausing at the end of his jog at the foot of it...
And then Vil about faces and leaves. Cater all but drops his coffee, he is shook.]
V-Vil! Wait up!
[It takes him a second before his brain and his feet catch up with one another and he heads down the staircase. It's all he can do not to totally break out into a run, but that would definitely call too much attention on the both of them. The last thing either of them needs in the middle of this mess is a bunch of nosy classmates taking covert photos and rumor milling about trouble in paradise.
So, Cater does what he does best: pretends that everything is fine. He's not chasing Vil, they just...happen to both be walking in the same direction. Sipping nervously at his coffee, Cater covertly summons a couple of split cards to break off from either side so that either of may be able to cut Vil off at the stables or before the coliseum, depending on which way he keeps going.
Damn, those long legs can walk so fast! Hate to see you go but love to watch you leave, Vil. Cater's definitely regretting that he didn't have his skateboard on him.]
[There's bile burning at the back of his throat. His chest feels too tight. He can't, he can't, he can't.
Instinctively, he moves where there's less people. He feels unsteady, almost weak. And absolutely nauseated. He needs to go back to his dorm, where it's safe—
Cater steps out in front of him, and Vil stops just short of crashing into him, face paling.]
No...
[He starts heading for another direction, but then there's Cater again.
It's been a long while since he's felt all his nerves lit on fire like this. All frayed at the edges. His breath wavers as he backs against the closest wall, head ducking and hands coming up to cover his face.]
[The split card does exactly as intended, holding out his hands to steady Vil. Hey--
But it doesn't get to say anything else before Vil turns again, and that's about when the real Cater catches up. The two Caters share a concerned look as Vil closes himself off, looking more like a cornered animal than he's ever seen. Sharing the same thought process, the split card backs off to give them privacy and keep an eye out. If anyone else gets too close, he'll divert them elsewhere.]
Vil...
[Cater approaches slowly, cautious, putting his coffee down and out of the way, phone stashed in his pocket so his hands are free.]
[Hearing such a tone of voice coming from Vil...the panic, the tears...Cater's heart aches more than it ever has. Even thinking that Vil had dumped him, that didn't hurt half as much. That, Cater felt he deserved. But this? Vil hurting so badly? Did he do this?
Cater hesitates, but only because he's afraid of making things worse. Of saying something so accidentally wrong that Vil shatters into pieces right in front of him. Carefully, Cater's hands reach forward, fingertips brushing against the back of Vil's wrists.]
I'm sorry, Vil. I won't look away.
[There's nothing in him that wants to see Vil like this--but he needs to. Maybe they both do.]
[Those words have a small sob escaping him. The fingers close and he shakes his head again. But there is nothing he can do to make Cater unsee what he had.]
I'm hideous. Poisonous. And you—
[Another sob escapes.]
You didn't even do anything, and yet it still came up. That ugliness that no amount of work or beauty products can cover up...
[His broken tone is begging:]
Get away from me, Cater. Get away from me before my poison kills you.
What happened last night--you didn't hurt me. I hurt me.
[He's not saying it's his fault--even if a part of him still wants to cling onto that belief. But it isn't all on Vil, either. Maybe Vil handed Cater the knife, but he himself is the one who put it in his heart.]
Even at your worst, I want to be with you, just like you've been with me when I'm at mine.
[He stands firm, patient, even as he wants to throw himself at Vil, pull him in and kiss away the tears and the pain.]
When all you can see is ugliness, I want to be here to tell you how beautiful you are.
[He still refuses to remove his hands. They're his only shield in his vulnerable state. Were they being watched? He's sure any onlooker would find him miserably pathetic, right now.
His breath is unsteady. A couple of tears slip out around his fingers.]
... it was all true, you know. Everything I said, I meant it.
[Those charged words. He does enjoy being a villain. He doesn't regret crushing his competition.
And nothing would get in the way of his path for success. Just as he would crush his competition, he would also slow down or stop for no one. Not even his boyfriend.]
[Cater takes a slow breath, feeling his own nerves start to escalate. He's terrified of saying the wrong thing, of accidentally expressing himself in a way that hurts Vil further--but he can't do what he did last night. He can't try and say what he thinks Vil wants to hear. He can only say his own truth.]
And I can't tell you how I'm going to feel in the future. I don't really know what I'm capable of, or where my boundaries are. But I know that I want to try, if you're willing to let me.
[Ah, there it is... the honest truth. And as much as Vil hates the idea of hurting Cater again...
He can't stifle his ambitions or disrespect his autonomy.
He swallows thickly, brows pinched together. Finally, his hands fall away. Reddened eyes, a runny nose and ruined make-up that traced the path of his tears are revealed.
An unseemly sight— rather fitting for the ugliness within, he supposes.
When their eyes meet, Vil looks far more tired than he ever has around anyone else, before.]
[The tension lingers, but it's definitely a good first step. Cater manages a relieved smile as Vil finally drops his hands.]
There you are.
[He can't help it--he reaches up to cup Vil's face, brushing away those tears if he'll let him. After all the emotions they've clearly both been suffering through, he can feel his own face staring to redden as well. In this moment, all that Cater can think is:]
[With that movement and statement, Vil lets out a heavy sigh, tension practically melting away. As if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
A hand comes up to run through his hair, and he turns his head, pressing a kiss to Cater's cheek.]
As long as you understand.
[A couple more moments, and then he pulls back, hand coming up to cup Cater's cheek. There's still some tiredness in his gaze, but mostly, a loving warmth for Cater.]
Would you care to help me touch up my make-up? I only need it to be passable enough to get me to my room where I can properly redo it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
When Cater finally forces himself out of bed for the morning, it's clear to him that he's not going to feel much better without talking to Vil directly. The idea of vomiting his thoughts out in the open is enough to make him want to be really sick, but it's the best he can really do. Put his feelings out there and, in turn, listen to Vil's.
So, he sends him a text. As far as he knows, Vil is free for the day...but who knows. Something could've popped up, or maybe he won't be ready to talk yet and will pretend that he's booked. Not really Vil's style, but Cater can't help thinking it. Somehow, being left on read completely isn't what he's expecting. WTF?
Well, for now, all he can do is head out and try not to obsess. Do not spam Vil Schoenheit's phone with needy texts, he tells himself. It was one thing when he was having a total meltdown while they weren't fighting. Doing it now would just be desperate. Coffee. He needs coffee. Breakfast.
He keeps checking his phone to see if the little "..." might pop up in their text history all the way to and from the cafeteria. Cater's intending to head back to Heartslabyul when he glances up to see Vil. From someone else's view, it might've almost looked like something out of a romance film. Cater looking up from his phone at the top of the main building's staircase. Vil pausing at the end of his jog at the foot of it...
And then Vil about faces and leaves. Cater all but drops his coffee, he is shook.]
V-Vil! Wait up!
[It takes him a second before his brain and his feet catch up with one another and he heads down the staircase. It's all he can do not to totally break out into a run, but that would definitely call too much attention on the both of them. The last thing either of them needs in the middle of this mess is a bunch of nosy classmates taking covert photos and rumor milling about trouble in paradise.
So, Cater does what he does best: pretends that everything is fine. He's not chasing Vil, they just...happen to both be walking in the same direction. Sipping nervously at his coffee, Cater covertly summons a couple of split cards to break off from either side so that either of may be able to cut Vil off at the stables or before the coliseum, depending on which way he keeps going.
Damn, those long legs can walk so fast! Hate to see you go but love to watch you leave, Vil. Cater's definitely regretting that he didn't have his skateboard on him.]
no subject
Instinctively, he moves where there's less people. He feels unsteady, almost weak. And absolutely nauseated. He needs to go back to his dorm, where it's safe—
Cater steps out in front of him, and Vil stops just short of crashing into him, face paling.]
No...
[He starts heading for another direction, but then there's Cater again.
It's been a long while since he's felt all his nerves lit on fire like this. All frayed at the edges. His breath wavers as he backs against the closest wall, head ducking and hands coming up to cover his face.]
Don't!
no subject
But it doesn't get to say anything else before Vil turns again, and that's about when the real Cater catches up. The two Caters share a concerned look as Vil closes himself off, looking more like a cornered animal than he's ever seen. Sharing the same thought process, the split card backs off to give them privacy and keep an eye out. If anyone else gets too close, he'll divert them elsewhere.]
Vil...
[Cater approaches slowly, cautious, putting his coffee down and out of the way, phone stashed in his pocket so his hands are free.]
Please, don't hide from me.
no subject
As Cater nears, his head raises up, a tear-laden eye peeking through his fingers.
He whispers:]
Don't look at me.
no subject
Cater hesitates, but only because he's afraid of making things worse. Of saying something so accidentally wrong that Vil shatters into pieces right in front of him. Carefully, Cater's hands reach forward, fingertips brushing against the back of Vil's wrists.]
I'm sorry, Vil. I won't look away.
[There's nothing in him that wants to see Vil like this--but he needs to. Maybe they both do.]
no subject
I'm hideous. Poisonous. And you—
[Another sob escapes.]
You didn't even do anything, and yet it still came up. That ugliness that no amount of work or beauty products can cover up...
[His broken tone is begging:]
Get away from me, Cater. Get away from me before my poison kills you.
no subject
[He's not saying it's his fault--even if a part of him still wants to cling onto that belief. But it isn't all on Vil, either. Maybe Vil handed Cater the knife, but he himself is the one who put it in his heart.]
Even at your worst, I want to be with you, just like you've been with me when I'm at mine.
[He stands firm, patient, even as he wants to throw himself at Vil, pull him in and kiss away the tears and the pain.]
When all you can see is ugliness, I want to be here to tell you how beautiful you are.
no subject
His breath is unsteady. A couple of tears slip out around his fingers.]
... it was all true, you know. Everything I said, I meant it.
[Those charged words. He does enjoy being a villain. He doesn't regret crushing his competition.
And nothing would get in the way of his path for success. Just as he would crush his competition, he would also slow down or stop for no one. Not even his boyfriend.]
Can you really handle that?
no subject
[Cater takes a slow breath, feeling his own nerves start to escalate. He's terrified of saying the wrong thing, of accidentally expressing himself in a way that hurts Vil further--but he can't do what he did last night. He can't try and say what he thinks Vil wants to hear. He can only say his own truth.]
And I can't tell you how I'm going to feel in the future. I don't really know what I'm capable of, or where my boundaries are. But I know that I want to try, if you're willing to let me.
no subject
He can't stifle his ambitions or disrespect his autonomy.
He swallows thickly, brows pinched together. Finally, his hands fall away. Reddened eyes, a runny nose and ruined make-up that traced the path of his tears are revealed.
An unseemly sight— rather fitting for the ugliness within, he supposes.
When their eyes meet, Vil looks far more tired than he ever has around anyone else, before.]
...alright.
no subject
There you are.
[He can't help it--he reaches up to cup Vil's face, brushing away those tears if he'll let him. After all the emotions they've clearly both been suffering through, he can feel his own face staring to redden as well. In this moment, all that Cater can think is:]
I'm so happy to see you.
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And he moves forward, wrapping his arms around Cater.
After a moment, an exhausted chuckle escapes.]
I suppose if anyone can withstand everything I am, it's you.
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You really threw me off guard last night, you know? I kept replaying it over in my head...I misunderstood things. I'm sorry.
[Who is he to judge if Vil leaves a trail of ruined rivals in his pathway to success? Cater wouldn't ever call himself a beacon of morality.]
I don't want to change you, or hold you back. I want to stand by you while you realize your ambitions--no matter what it takes.
no subject
A hand comes up to run through his hair, and he turns his head, pressing a kiss to Cater's cheek.]
As long as you understand.
[A couple more moments, and then he pulls back, hand coming up to cup Cater's cheek. There's still some tiredness in his gaze, but mostly, a loving warmth for Cater.]
Would you care to help me touch up my make-up? I only need it to be passable enough to get me to my room where I can properly redo it.