Chapter Text
Amethyst eyes widened in horror as the hunger-fueled fog in his mind finally cleared. A costumed figure lay sprawled on the bed beneath Vil, unmoving and bloodlessly pale. He’d messed up. He’d really messed up! He was usually so careful. Everything he did was always so perfectly planned. But with the chaos caused by the Magicam Monsters, and really the whole Halloween event altogether, he’d neglected to keep to his meticulously designed feeding schedule. And now…someone else had paid the price for his mistake.
Vil hesitantly reached out and felt for a pulse, a breath, anything to show that the person lying motionless on his bed wasn't actually dead. He almost cried in relief when there was the barest hint of a heartbeat under his fingertips. Looking closely, he could make out the rise and fall of shallow breaths. Not dead then, but dangerously close.
Pulling out his phone, Vil called Rook while rushing to his wardrobe. He hoped he still had a couple restoration potions on hand. If he didn’t… Well, then he’d face a difficult choice. One that had been his worst nightmare since he was a small child. Ever since his father had explained to him how he was different from those around him and why he needed to be careful.
“You have need of me, Roi du Poison?” Rook’s ever cheerful voice came through the phone, startling Vil from his darkening thoughts.
“I-I need…need help. I’m in…in m-my room.” Vil managed to get out while searching for the potions. He was almost terrified Rook would press him for more information, but the fear turned out to be unfounded. The hunter knew when words were needed and, thankfully, when they were not.
“On my way.” Rook declared before the call abruptly disconnected. Vil quickly pocketed his phone, fumbling with it and nearly dropping it in his haste. He then grabbed the potion he had been searching for. He only had one. It would have to be enough. As fast as he could, Vil returned to his bed and carefully administered the potion to the silent figure. He watched, anxiety twisting his stomach, as color gradually came back to pale cheeks. It was working, and better than Vil had expected it would. Thank the Seven! He had just set the now empty potion bottle down on his desk when Rook in near silence entered the room without knocking. Piercing green eyes quickly took in every detail of the scene as he closed the door behind him.
“What happened?” Rook asked, cautiously approaching his Housewarden. “Why is Monsieur Magicam unconscious?” Vil shook his head as he looked back towards Cater’s still form. He really didn't know what had happened. His last somewhat clear memory was him walking, or rather stumbling, down the halls of Pomefiore towards his room and…someone, he couldn’t recall who, calling out to him. He vaguely remembered them asking if he was okay and offering to help him get to his room. Had that been Cater? But what happened after that? Vil had no memories past that point.
“I-I’m not sure…exactly.” Vil acknowledged rather begrudgingly. “I called you as soon as I woke up. I must have…must have bitten him, but I don’t remember anything. What bothers me is that if I was that far gone, he should’ve been drained. He should be dead and very nearly was. Thankfully the restoration potion worked, and better than I expected it to, so he’ll be fine once he wakes up. But I don’t understand what happened.” After Vil had finished explaining what he knew, Rook stepped forward and started to reach towards Cater. Whether that was to check his pulse or breathing, Vil didn’t know. What he did know was that a deep and very territorial sounding growl escaped his throat. The hunter froze at the clear threat, braced for whatever came next. Vil, on the other hand, leapt back several steps with a hand clamped firmly over his mouth.
“I-…I’m sorry!” Vil said, eyes wide at the sound that had slipped out. He hadn’t meant to do that. “I didn’t…I-I don’t…” Rook relaxed his stance somewhat and eyed his queen carefully. Rarely did Vil ever exhibit the slightest signs that he wasn’t quite what he appeared to be. Even Rook had been hard-pressed to tell the difference. But Vil Schoenheit was not human. He was a pure-blooded vampire. When he’d become the Housewarden of Pomefiore and appointed Rook as his Vice, Vil had told the hunter the truth…just in case. Rook had known something was different, but the reality had been surprising. Every showcase of his true nature had been deliberate on Vil’s part. Until now.
“Have you checked his vitals since giving him the potion?” Rook asked instead of checking himself. Vil shook his head and hesitantly approached his bed again. Rook stepped back slightly so as to not be in between Vil and Cater. This was new behavior from his friend and he wanted to carefully observe before reacting. If he didn’t know any better, Rook would’ve said that growl was that of a predator warning him away from something that belonged to them. It was a sound he wasn’t unfamiliar with, but to hear it from Vil…?
“His heartbeat is strong and steady.” Vil said, pulling Rook back to the moment. “And his breathing as well.” The Housewarden pulled back with a relieved sigh and instantly felt a tug on his mind. That was new. As he stood upright from leaning over Cater’s slumbering form, a nearly desperate call to wrap the ginger in his arms and keep him safe whispered inaudibly in Vil’s ears. A call he steadfastly ignored. However, the intensity of the pull he felt startled Vil, almost taking his breath away.
As he was standing there wondering what they should do next, he smelled it. Blood. Had he not sealed the wound? He couldn’t imagine he wouldn’t have, but he never thought he’d be in a situation like this at all. Vil carefully brushed Cater’s hair away from his throat to check. The two punctures from his earlier bite were already almost gone, leaving the skin of Cater’s throat smooth and unblemished. So, why could he still smell fresh blood? It took a moment, but Vil found a thin trickle of red coming from Cater’s forehead. Pushing back the strands that normally framed the ginger’s face, Vil revealed a small but jagged gash right at Cater’s hairline. There was a bruise forming around the cut as well, telling Vil that Cater had likely hit his head on something. It was also an injury that would have been under his costume’s hat.
Vil vaguely recalled seeing Cater’s veiled hat on the floor next to the bed and when he turned to find it, he could faintly make out the stains. Small reddish-brown splotches that were almost hidden in the deep violet carpet. The reason he did notice them as quickly as he did was that Rook was already kneeling to inspect them. Vil waited for him to report what he had discovered. Forest green eyes trailed upwards and found what they were looking for. More red on the edge of Vil’s desk chair.
“I believe I have a general idea of what has occurred, Roi du Poison.” Rook said. “Monsieur Magicam went to help you to your room and ended up hitting his head on your desk chair, likely stumbling while you leaned on him for support. The smell of his blood when you were hungry was too much and instinct took over. You bit him. As to how you were able to resist taking too much in such a compromised state…I’m afraid I cannot say. I have tried not to pry for details about your kind, as curious as I am.” Vil nodded. He’d come to a similar conclusion himself. That still didn’t explain how he hadn’t killed the ginger though. As relieved as he was that he wasn’t a murderer, it bothered Vil that he didn’t know what happened. Something in the back of his mind was insisting that it was important. The same part that didn’t want to be away from Cater.
“Now I just have to worry about what he’ll remember when he wakes up.” Vil grumbled. He also needed to take care of that cut on Cater’s forehead. There was an easy way to do that, of course, but…he hesitated. If Rook had not been there, Vil probably would have just done it by now. It would still be awkward for him, but no one else would’ve known. A vampire’s saliva had properties in it that accelerated the healing process. So much so that a vampire’s bite was often completely gone in only a few hours at most, like how the bite mark he’d left on the ginger’s throat was nearly healed already. But Vil was not going to lick Cater’s forehead, especially since Rook had always teased him about secretly pining for the ginger. The last thing he wanted to give the hunter was ammunition.
Also, now that Vil thought about it, it would probably be best if he didn't heal the cut completely. He could use it as an excuse or explanation if Cater didn't remember anything. Some slight memory loss was normal after an encounter with a pure-blooded vampire. Or a concussion, which Cater likely had as well. All he needed was a plausible story and he could preserve his secret. With that in mind, Vil sent Rook for some first aid supplies while he watched over Cater. The task was easily accomplished and, soon enough, Vil was seated on the edge of his bed, carefully cleaning the cut on the ginger’s forehead. A hiss of pain from Cater let the other two know that he was beginning to wake up.
“Don’t move.” Vil ordered when Cater started to raise a hand to brush away the sting of the antiseptic. “You’ve hit your head and I’m trying to clean you up. You may also have a concussion.” Cater groaned but let his hand drop back to the mattress.
“…You feelin’ better then, Vil?” Cater asked quietly, almost whispering. His words sounded slightly slurred. Vil paused for a second, wondering at the jolt of happiness that the ginger’s question gave him. He could also feel Rook’s eyes watching him. He probably had that insufferably knowing smirk on his face, too. Rook had always argued for Cater when Vil would get annoyed at his flirting. But…maybe he did really care. Even now, Cater was more concerned about Vil feeling better than he was about his own injury and he was barely conscious.
“I’m fine, Cater.” Vil finally replied. “Let’s worry about you for right now.” Cater hummed, but didn't say anything else. He hadn't opened his eyes yet either. Vil finished cleaning the cut and applying some salve and a small bandage. Luckily, it was a small enough cut that stitches wouldn’t be necessary. Meanwhile, Rook came into Vil’s line of sight, having circled around to the other side of the bed, still careful to not be in between Vil and Cater. Not that Vil noticed that at the moment. His attention was focused elsewhere.
“Monsieur Magicam, do you think you could sit up?” Rook asked. “We will need to take you to the infirmary soon. You hit your head and, as Vil said, we worry you may have a concussion.” Cater didn’t reply right away, his brow furrowed in thought. After a moment, he shifted slightly, as if testing his range of motion from his still prone position.
“I think I can, yeah.” He answered, his voice sounding a little stronger than before, but he was still not speaking as clearly as he usually did. Vil helped him to sit up, keeping nearby in case Cater needed someone to stabilize him.
“I need you to open your eyes if you can.” Vil instructed. Cater tried to do as ordered, but shut his eyes almost immediately as he gave a grimace. The light in Vil’s room wasn't particularly bright, but it wasn't dim either. “I know it seems bright. I’m sorry. Can you try again, please?” Vil asked. This time, Cater was able to keep his eyes open, but he was still squinting.
“You look kinda blurry.” Cater said before Vil or Rook could ask. Rook hummed in thought. Slurred speech, light sensitivity, and now blurry vision? The likelihood of a concussion was increasing. The Housewarden and his Vice shared a look. They needed to get Cater to the infirmary and checked out properly by the nurse. A concussion was nothing to play around with. Also, Vil wanted to be sure that Cater didn't suffer any lingering effects of being nearly drained of blood. However there was a real possibility that one of them would have to carry him there if he wasn't able to walk on his own.
“Do you think you can walk, or do you need to be carried?” Vil asked. That little voice in the back of his mind that had been bugging him since he’d woken up, was almost giddy at the prospect of getting to hold Cater close. It wanted to sweep the ginger off his feet and keep him safe and secure. Vil did his best to shut the voice out for now.
“I’m…not sure I could walk the whole way.” Cater answered after a pause. “But I want to try standing first.” Vil nodded before getting up from the bed to give the ginger some room. Cater swung his legs over the side of the bed and carefully stood. He was visibly unsteady, the heeled boots of his costume likely not helping with that. Rook shook his head and turned to look at Vil, silently asking who was going to carry Cater. Normally, Rook would have taken the initiative and done it himself, not that Vil needed him to. However, Vil’s reaction earlier had the hunter slightly on edge. The actor knew his Vice Housewarden well enough to know what the look meant. However, when the thought of Rook carrying Cater crossed his mind, Vil was surprised at the immediate rush of unease he felt. Something inside of him was screaming ‘NO!’ His head had been weird since he woke up and he desperately needed to talk to his father. Something in Vil’s mind didn't want anyone, even his best friend, carrying Cater. That thing inside had seemingly decided that Cater was his and no one else was allowed to touch him.
“I’m going to carry you, Cater.” Vil informed the ginger. Cater nodded and allowed Vil to scoop him up into his arms. Once he was secure, Cater leaned his head against Vil, as if too tired to hold it upright. The actor felt that thrill again at the action. He found that he was happy that Cater felt safe enough in his arms to relax. What was going on with him? Surely he wasn't falling for Cater after all this time pushing him away.
The trip to the infirmary was quiet and quick, as most students were already in their dorms for the night. After they’d gotten the ginger settled in one of the beds, the nurse tried to send Vil and Rook back to their dorm, but Vil firmly refused to leave. He argued that since it was his fault that Cater was injured, he should stay and keep an eye on him. Rook however, did return to keep an eye on Pomefiore in his Housewarden’s stead. As much as Rook wanted to stay and observe what was going on with his friend, he knew where he was needed most. Vil had always been the type to sort out his own problems as much as possible. He would tell the hunter only when he wanted to. If he wanted Rook to know anything.
“Do not hesitate to call if you need anything, Vil.” Rook said before he left. He’d been asked by the nurse to make a stop at Heartslabyul before he headed to Pomefiore to let Riddle and Trey know what had happened and where Cater was. Vil knew he would regret the lack of sleep the next day, but he couldn’t tear himself from Cater’s side. That something inside him had settled in his chest and started to ache when he tried to step away. So in the end he’d stayed.
During the examination when they’d first arrived at the infirmary, the nurse had complimented Vil’s first aid skills and not a thing had been said about a potential loss of blood. For that part Vil was grateful. The potion had done its job and helped restore what Vil had taken. As soon as he was able, he planned to call his father and hopefully get some answers about what was happening to him. For now though, he would wait for Cater to wake and be released from the infirmary. The nurse checked on them often throughout the night, confirming that the ginger was just sleeping and not unconscious. Vil slipped in and out of sleep all night, not realizing only part of his restlessness was the uncomfortable chair he was seated in.
⚰️ 🦇 ⚰️ 🦇 ⚰️ 🦇 ⚰️
“Hello?” Vil answered his phone as he slipped out of the Mirror Chamber where Pomefiore’s stamp station was located. He had been excused from class for his shift, but Vil was waiting for this phone call. He had texted his father the previous night and had asked him to call as soon as he was available. Whatever it was going on with him concerning Cater was important enough that he would pause whatever he was doing to talk to the older vampire.
“Vil, are you alright? You got me worried with that text. It sounded urgent.” Eric’s voice came through the phone and Vil felt some of the tension he’d been carrying release. No matter how far apart they had been or how busy they both got, Vil always knew that he could talk to his father about anything. He never had any doubt that his father would be there when he needed him.
“I’m fine. I just…” Vil hesitated. It wasn’t that he was scared or worried about telling his father what had happened, he just didn’t quite know how to phrase it. “I had some questions for you. About…about our bloodline?” When Vil had been younger and very curious about what they were, they had come up with a code for when he had questions he wanted to ask that couldn’t be asked in public. He hadn’t used it in years, but fell back on it now. He was certain his father would remember.
“Ah. It's certainly been a while since you’ve had those kinds of questions. Did something happen?” Eric asked, the concern clear in his voice. Vil laughed a little to himself at that. His father knew him too well.
“Yes, something has happened. Let me tell the others I will be stepping away to take this call and I’ll explain everything.” After making sure all would be well in his absence, Vil headed towards the Hall of Mirrors and the Pomefiore dorm. In short order, the actor was back in his own room, behind a locked door, where he could talk. He started explaining what had happened the previous night and how he woke up to Cater unconscious on his bed, but thankfully still alive. How he had blacked out with hunger and must have bitten his schoolmate, but was unable to explain why he hadn’t been drained. Vil was almost embarrassed to tell his father about the pull he felt towards the ginger, but that was one of the main things he had questions about so he couldn’t leave it out. Eric listened patiently, occasionally humming so that Vil knew he was still there. This was not what Eric had expected when he’d received Vil’s text but he wondered distantly if he should have.
“Did I ever tell you about how your mother and I got together?” Eric asked once Vil had finished his tale. The younger Schoenheit was confused how this was relevant at the moment but replied that he didn’t think he’d heard the whole story. “We had been talking, not really even dating, for a few weeks when something unfortunate happened. She cut her hand while we were out together. I don’t remember how, even to this day, but the next thing I knew I was drinking her blood from the cut. Not sure why she let me around her after that, but she did and I was grateful because I felt like I couldn’t stay away. Something about her drew me in. Pulled me towards her like a siren call. And her blood was the most incredible that I had ever tasted. I found out later from your grandfather that I was experiencing a rare phenomenon known as Ligatus Animas or bound souls. What that means essentially is soulmates. What you’re describing sounds very similar to what I went through.” The younger vampire was stunned at that revelation.
“How could he be my soulmate?!” Vil argued. “I don’t even—” The words caught in his throat. He couldn’t say that he didn’t like Cater. Vil realized with a shock that it wasn’t true. He’d never really disliked the ginger, nor did Vil find him unattractive. But the fact that Cater aspired to be an influencer on Magicam had always caused Vil to keep him at arm's length. It would hardly be the first time someone had attempted to get close to him if only to gain their own popularity. Vil had suspected Rook of the same when they had first met. The actor had always thought Cater was just another clout-chaser, but had he not proven that to be untrue over the three years Vil had known him? He’d always been respectful of Vil’s boundaries, often asking for a picture but never pushing when told no. Also, if he just wanted someone famous to post pictures with, he was clubmates with Kalim Al-Asim for Seven’s sake!
“Vil? Are you still there?” Eric’s voice broke through Vil’s swirling thoughts.
“Y-yes, I’m…I’m here.”
“I’m not telling you that you are in love with him. Only you know that. All I’m suggesting is that your soul and his are likely linked. Oftentimes it is a romantic connection. It was for your mother and I, but it doesn’t have to be. Whatever the connection turns out to be, I would recommend that you take some time to think about what I’ve said and maybe get to know him some more. Keep an open mind about it, is all I’m saying.” Eric said. Vil took a deep breath in an attempt to collect himself. Of course his father was right. There was no reason to get all worked up when he didn’t really even know anything yet.
“Okay, I will. Thank you, father.” They talked a little more about what each was doing, just catching up while they had a moment, before Eric was needed back on set. After exchanging goodbyes, Vil sat on the edge of his bed still reeling from what he’d been told. He hadn’t been sure what to expect when he’d talked to his father, but that had definitely not been it. He wasn’t even sure if he believed in the concept of soulmates. It seemed like one of those fantastical things that Rook, the eternal romantic, would be more into. But he also knew that his father wouldn’t just make up a story like that. Could Cater really be his soulmate?
Vil thought back to that morning, when the nurse had released Cater to return to his dorm. He’d been ordered to spend the day resting and report any issues that arose immediately. The nurse had also sent a note to Riddle to be aware of what was going on as well. It had been almost physically painful for Vil to leave the ginger. But that thing inside that had seemed to wake up after his encounter with Cater had whispered to him that it wanted blood. Specifically it wanted Cater’s blood. Now that the ginger had been cleared, and his own concern had been somewhat appeased, Vil’s vampiric nature started rearing its head. He knew he needed to step away or he may do something he’d regret. Vil didn’t remember much of when he’d bitten Cater, but that voice inside apparently did. It remembered the taste and it wanted it again. He hadn’t even mentioned that part to his father and yet Eric recalled feeling the same about Vil’s mother.
Eric had said that it could be a platonic bond between them, but the more Vil thought about things, the more sure he was that if he got closer to Cater that wouldn’t be the case. He could easily fall for his classmate if he let himself. That was part of why Vil had never let his guard down around him. He was kind and considerate of those around him, often defusing situations before most would even be aware there was a problem brewing. Nevermind how attractive he was. Cater knew how to pose and how to present his best side. That was something Vil simply couldn’t deny. Those gorgeous green eyes that glittered like jewels. The small set of fangs that could be seen whenever Cater smiled. That wavy ginger hair that Vil wanted to run his hands through…
The actor sighed heavily as he stood from his bed. No matter what, he’d planned to keep an eye on Cater anyway. Even if only to be sure he didn’t suffer any kind of negative side effects from his near death experience. It should be easy enough to keep him close with them both being on the Halloween management committee. His insight about how the Magicam Monsters thought had been invaluable so far, and would provide an excellent reason for him to become Vil’s right hand during the event. That way he could keep an eye on Cater and get to know him better like his father recommended without it seeming too out of the ordinary.
Cater would be spending the day in his room resting, so there wasn’t much Vil could do until tomorrow. Perhaps he could swing by with an apology for what had happened and check on him. With this new plan in mind, Vil headed back to the Pomefiore stamp station.