Chapter Text
Vil Schoenheit was always very protected by his father’s; he remembered having to beg them to let him attend Night Raven College when he turned 18.
”Come on, father! Please let me go!!” Vil had been homeschooled all his life.
It wasn’t a bad experience, but he wanted friends his age. He wanted to go to school, walk to classes.
But most of all, he wanted to be popular; he wanted to be the ‘it boy’ that everyone talked about, that all boys went after.
He discovered he was gay when he first met one of his father’s students.
He had gone to his father's job with him, and a boy had to come to his office.
He was so beautiful that Vil started to think about marriage (not that the boy was anywhere in his age range); he was 11 at the time. He had asked his father about the feelings he had had towards the boy, to which his father laughed and told him: “That’s how I felt towards your papa.”
It took months to convince his Fathers to let him attend, he had to agree not to join a dorm, and not stay out past 10, and, on occasion, 11.
He reluctantly agreed.
Three years had passed, he was in his final year.
After years, he was at the top of the social hierarchy.
He sometimes wished he was in a dorm, but at the end of the day, he was happy.
He lived just off campus in a small house with his fathers, his fathers had become little strict, letting him go out alone with his friends, and stay out.
”Hey Vil!!” Vil turned around to see, Cater, a boy who had been trying to be his friend since their first year.
He didn’t really like the boy until recently, when he finally decided to give a chance.
“Don’t yell across the hall." He softly scolded.
"Hehe, sorry!” Cater said, rubbing the back of his neck, not actually sounding sorry, but Vil let it go for now.
“What is it?” Vil asked, waiting for the other to catch up.
“Nothing much! I just saw you and had to come over!” He wrapped his arm around Vil.
"Well, I have to head over to Papa’s shop—“
“Ooooo! I’ll come!” Cater’s green eye lit up.
Vil sweat dropped. "Ok... as long as you help out."
Cater laughed nervously. “Sure thing!”
”Papa, I’m here!” He called into the shop. “And, I brought some help."
His father popped his head around the corner from the staff room. "Oh, hello there, Cater!”
His father, Sam, said to the shorter boy next to him.
"Alright, Vil, go do the usual; Cater, go stock the shelves.” Sam nodded.
"Yes, sir!” Cater cheered.
Vil followed with a: “Of course, Papa.”
After all the hard work they (mostly Vil) had done, Sam gave them some money to go out and get some food with.
"Thanks, Papa."
Sam smiled, giving his son a hug, and a head pat. "Careful out there!" Sam called as Cater dragged his son out of his shop.
——
"So Sam is like, really your dad?" Cater hummed.
Vil glanced at the shorter boy, "Um, yeah?"
Cater hummed, "So, um, sorry to ask, but how?"
Vil glanced at him again. "I was dropped at their doorstep with a note with my name." Vil took a bite of his macaron.
’They never did tell me what exactly that note said…’ He thought.
"So, where do you live? You're not in a dorm, right?"
Vil nodded. "I live with Father and Papa just outside campus."
"Could I maybe... come over?" Cater rubbed his back of his neck.
Vil looked over to his classmate, "Come over?"
No one ever wanted to come over to the "teacher's house."
Maybe it was the rare nervousness Cater showed, or because it was the first time anyone asked, but he spoke before he could stop himself. "Of course, you can come over anytime. We're friends after all."
Cater's eye lit up. "We're friends?"
Vil smiled. "Of course we are.".
"Let's go then!" Cater grabbed his hand, pulling him to the walkway towards the gate.
"Eh? Right now?"
Cater nodded. "No time like the present! You know?"
Vil smiled. "Okay, but it might be a bit messy."
The shorter laughed, "I don't care!"
Vil let Cater into his house; the living room was neat. Books stacked on the coffee table, and the bookshelves were filled to the brim.
The sofas were a soft brown, and the lamps on the side tables were a dull purple, they were filled with oddities. The fur rug was white with black spots. It was painfully obvious who designed what.
"Want to hang out in my room or in the living room?"
Cater snapped out of his examination and turned to the younger. "Let's go to your room~" he sang, leaning forward towards the taller.
Vil felt himself blush. "okay..." he said, leading Cater to his room.
It was clean for the most part, except for the paper scattered over his desk.
His wardrobe was open, reliving all his clothes.
Cater couldn't help but marvel at the other's fashion sense.
His bed was neatly made, not even a wrinkle in sight; the royal purple blanket was tucked into the bed frame like a hotel; his pillows sat up against the headboard, already fluffed up, there was a small throw blanket over the end.
Vil sat on his bed, patting the spot in front of him. "What do you want to talk about?"
Cater suddenly felt bashful again. "I've been meaning to tell you something..."
Vil brushed a hand through his hair, fixing the loose ends. "What is it?"
Cater fiddled with his fingers, trying to wrap his mind around what he wanted to say. "I- I- I think I might be in love with you…"
Vil stopped fixing his hair, "Eh? Like in what way?"
This wasn't the way he read about confessing. It wasn't overly romantic, the kinda thing to have readers kicking their feet.
This was messy; it was real...
"Like in the way of ‘I wanna do things with you, I wanna go on dates and shit.’” Cater played with his hair. “I wanna be boyfriends."