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To dwell on things you couldn’t understand is inexplicably a part of human nature you can never get rid of. People often say that it’s a trait that can be shot down with enough discipline and willpower. However, you did not have enough time to muster the discipline and will that they speak of. So you’re left with little to no choice but to live with your thoughts haunting you like a ghost.
Simply put, you cannot understand why this bottle of perfume was such a big deal.
It was a gift from Pomefiore’s housewarden—a generous one, at that. You could vividly remember how happy you were when you received an entire full-sized bottle that smelled like freshly plucked flowers from the garden. Your knowledge of perfumes was by no means extensive but you could tell that it was a refined scent that carried a sense of grace within its notes. Vil was pleased that you accepted his gift with eagerness; his grin was a tad wider that day, his fingers daintily covering his mouth when he gave you a response.
Naturally, you immediately put on the perfume the following day. The curious thing came after; there have been at least five Pomefiore students running after you to ask you about the perfume you received. All their questions varied from what you think the notes are to how you got Vil to give you a bottle. All of which went unanswered. You had to send them away and stare at their backs as they awkwardly walked away after failing to get their answers.
“No, really, what was that about?” You huffed your cheeks in annoyance, poking the food on your plate with your fork. It wasn’t like you to treat your food like this but the strange occurrences frustrated you enough. “I was almost late to class because one of them literally blocked my path. Isn’t that totally weird!?”
The two freshmen in front of you hardly gave any insightful responses as you watched them chow down their meals after a gruelling class of PE. You swear that it was Ace’s seventh time saying ‘I feel like I’m gonna die’ after admitting he kinda flunked his practicals. Deuce was a bit more reserved when it came to his complaints but his silence as he ate told you all that you needed to hear from him.
Despite this, you trudged on. “I can’t see why they’re making a big deal out of perfume. Is it normal for Pomefiore students to act like this?”
Ace let out a satisfied sigh after slamming his glass down, plate squeaky clean just in time for him to give his two cents. “I guess I wouldn’t put it past them to get worked up over perfume,” he snickered. “Though that means that the perfume you’re wearing should be special enough for them to lose their heads over it.”
“It was a gift from Vil.” You sighed, resting your cheek on one palm as you contemplated the problem further. “Shouldn’t they ask him instead? No, actually, wouldn’t it make more sense if the perfume is sourced from Pomefiore?”
“But if any student from Pomefiore can have it, they wouldn’t have to ask.” Deuce finally butted in. “Ace is right, you know. Maybe you should consider the fact that housewarden himself was the one who gave it to you.”
“You mean like it’s a housewarden special?”
“What the hell is a housewarden special?”
“Gah, forget it!” Ace wailed. The brief exchange made him give up on trying to explain. “Listen, you should just go and ask him yourself. He should know Pomefiore best.”
You paused for a few seconds, staring back at Ace while you simulated the scenario inside your mind. In theory, talking to him should be easy enough but reality reminded you that he was incredibly busy with his work outside of his housewarden duties. A text should suffice but he did give a stark warning that he might not be able to reply (if he did, it would probably be hours later).
“... I should.” You muttered. “The next time I see him.”
“Dude, just send him a text.”
“I’d hate to be a bother. It’s not a big deal anyway.”
“Geez, look at you acting as if you weren’t complaining about this a few minutes ago…” You shot Ace a dirty look that demanded he close his mouth. But he ran his mouth anyway without a care. “Maybe you can ask Rook. Oh, or Epel. Pick your poison.”
“One of them is right there.” Deuce pointed his fork towards the table behind you. You could make out Epel’s brightly coloured hair in any crowd; he stuck out like a sore thumb with how he carried himself. If you didn’t know any better, you would fall for the mysterious air around him. “Probably dying to switch to another table.”
It didn’t take long for Epel to notice Ace’s hand beckoning him over. His face lit up for a split second before turning to his dormmates with an apologetic look and a small bow (probably to excuse himself), then he made his way towards your table with his food tray in hand. “Yo, Epel.” Ace greeted him as he sat down, but Epel was still audibly silent. “Huh? Did you not hear me—?”
“You.” Epel breathed in. You raised a brow when you realized he was referring to you after ignoring Ace, and you wondered if you had forgotten something you shouldn’t have. Was he mad? When Epel finally opened his mouth, his words were the least you expected from him. “Do you have any idea how much I had to put up with because of you!?”
“M-Me!?”
“Obviously!”
“Pipe down before someone hears us! What if the Housewarden is here?” Deuce panicked, scurrying to calm Epel down even though he was trying his best to keep his voice to a minimum. It didn’t do much to erase the urgency in his voice, however.
“It’s that damn perfume!”
It was about perfume, again?
You didn’t bother to hide the grimace that took over your expression. The frown on your face made it crystal clear that you weren’t so keen on the topic either; Epel relaxed after he decided to cut you some slack after realizing that you were probably bombarded by the same people already. Though that didn’t stop him from pouring out his laments.
“It’s killing me. All they’ve been asking me nonstop is about you!” He grit his teeth. “They’re making a big deal over the fact that Vil gave you perfume. Something, something about how rare it is for him to do something like that… or how it smelled the same as his signature scent… I can’t be bothered to remember the details anymore.”
“Woah, wait. Pause.” An exasperated expression took over Ace’s face as he turned towards you once again. “The same as his signature scent? No wonder everyone is making a fuss about it!”
“Is it a big deal? I complimented him once about it, I think he took that as a sign that I was interested in the perfume he uses.”
All three students in front of you let out a heavy sigh and shook their heads upon hearing your answer. For some reason, this reaction irritated you. If they had something to say, it would be so much better if they went ahead and said it instead of beating around the bush—you were already too preoccupied with the mystery at hand regarding the perfume; one more headache into the mix made you want to pull your hair out.
“It's better if you figure it out yourself.”
You couldn't bark back a retort when the bell rang the moment you opened your mouth, leaving you with your thoughts to agonize over.
Giving up is also part of human nature. This was a motto that you liked to remember from time to time when you'd rather not think about something to save your peace. You were convinced that not everything in the world can be understood, so it was easy for you to drop the matter once the Pomefiore students’ presence around you started to dwindle. The absence of the problem gives you a false relief that the issue at hand has been resolved, when all it does is reschedule whatever fate had in store for you.
Naturally, new and more menial problems started popping up. As much as you hate to admit it, the perfume was still very much a problem—not because of how much of a hassle it was to deal with strangers, but because of the fact that you can't quite understand how you can make the scent stay.
You were sure that you were doing something wrong, especially since you noticed you could no longer smell the scent after two classes.
So, what did you do? The ideal answer would be to give up once more, however—
You found yourself in Pomefiore today. It used to be routine for you to check up on Pomefiore (specifically to talk to the Housewarden) but it only resumed now once Vil’s schedule finally loosened up. All it took was a simple summon and you were making your way towards his room like clockwork, your feet already familiar with every step you took.
Nervousness pooled at the pits of your stomach, and you can't help but wonder if this had anything to do with the fact that you hadn’t seen him in a while.
“You're not wearing the perfume I gave you.” It was the first time you saw Vil after a week or two. You could hardly remember your last interaction with him since you could only recall the mess that came after his disappearance in your daily life. He stared at you, arms crossed, and voice hinting at an emotion you can't quite fathom. “Didn't I tell you to make good use of it?”
There he was, right in front of you with all of his radiant elegance, sitting gracefully on the chair in front of his mirror. He beckoned you closer, hand outstretched expectantly. Without thinking, you placed your hand over his and you were pulled to sit next to him.
“I am wearing it.” You argued, your initial surprise settling down when you try to scoot to the side to create distance between you. “It’s just that the scent fades really fast. It’s only been a few hours since I put it on.”
Vil raised an eyebrow. “It’s parfum. It’s meant to last more than just a few hours.” He leaned in closer, trying to catch a whiff of his scent on you. The movement was so sudden you had to stop yourself from leaning away (but the beat of your heart became louder and you prayed to the Great Seven that he couldn't hear). When he pulls back, you can finally breathe again. “I can smell it. Just barely.” He sighs, “I should’ve taught you how to put it on properly before letting you go.”
He stands up and gives you time to collect yourself. You let out a sigh of relief, a hand over your chest as you try to calm yourself down. Your gaze followed Vil’s figure as he walked across the room, approaching a drawer placed right next to his vanity. He opened it and took out a small vial; the liquid inside resembled the perfume he shared with you so it didn't take long for you to figure out that he was going to give a demonstration.
“Tell me, how have you been doing it?” Vil crossed his arms, waiting for your answer while you contemplated. You felt a strange sense of nervousness wash over you despite the fact that there was nothing out of the ordinary—he took self-improvement very seriously, after all.
“Oh, well… I put some on my clothes.” You pause to think about it more. Vil’s face visibly contorted when you opened your mouth again, “Oh, my wrists too. I rub them together after so it sticks.”
Vil raised his hand, signalling you to stop. He massaged his temples before he unscrewed the cap from the vial in his hands and turned the nozzle towards you. "No wonder the scent isn't sticking. You don't know how to put on perfume effectively. Let me show you how it's done."
You gulped at his straightforward comment. The embarrassment doesn't last long when you realize Vil was inching dangerously closer to you, then it finally dawned on you that he had no plans on demonstrating the correct way using his body as a reference. Rather, he had other plans. Plans that involved you.
"Uh…?" You looked at him, hoping that your visible confusion would draw an answer from him.
Vil answers with his actions instead. Without another word, his hand was already grasping your jaw, tilting your head to the side. The gesture was somehow graceful despite being overly conscious of how firmly he held you. You try not to look at him directly, you know that your body would betray you the moment you let your guard down around him. Yet, at the same time, you wonder time and again if Vil understood the impact his actions had on you.
"It's generally recommended to spray perfume behind your ears." Vil's hand moved to tuck your hair behind your ear and sprayed the perfume once. "Once on each side." He tilted your head to the opposite direction and sprayed it behind your ear once more. He was giving you a lesson on perfume, but you could hardly think straight. Your mind turned into muddy thoughts when you felt the liquid touch your neck—it sent shivers down your spine.
With this kind of proximity, you didn't know if what you were smelling was his perfume or yours. Or perhaps the combination of both— the thought made you dizzy.
His hand finally lets go of your face. However, Vil wasn't quite done with his short lesson. His hand found its way to the base of your neck, and the sound you had to bite back burned at the back of your throat.
"Less is more," Vil started. "But you could also spray some on your throat or the base of your neck." His thumb dragged across your neck, commenting, "somewhere here."
You couldn't speak—not when his hand was still so damn near your throat. So you simply nodded.
"Next area."
Next area!?
"Don't look so surprised. This is how I get my perfume to stick."
Vil's hand trailed down to your arm. "Ideally, you shouldn't be applying this to your clothes but put some on your inner elbow." He sprayed once. Then his hands trailed further down to hold your hand. "Then one on your wrist."
He wasn't doing much but the feeling of Vil's hand holding your own almost made your heart stop. You would promise him that you're listening to whatever it is he's saying about perfume hacks but the only thing you could think of is how his hand felt.
"Hey, are you even listening?" Your mental palace shattered when Vil's voice greeted your ear. He finally took a few steps back; you wonder if the past few minutes were just a figment of your imagination, but the feeling of the wet perfume still fresh on your skin reminded you that this was no fantasy land. You finally had the confidence to speak after the continuous cornering.
"Yes… I think I got everything down." You thank the Great Seven you didn't stutter. "I'll be sure to do it properly next time."
Vil set the perfume down and placed a hand on his hip. "You'd better. I didn't give you my perfume just for you to go around smelling like nothing."
You finally recall that you meant to ask him about his perfume (and the mess that came with wearing it). So you set your remaining embarrassment aside and cleared your throat to spit out your thoughts. "Actually, I was wondering about something…"
"Hmm?"
"There was a huge ruckus that stirred when other people found out that you gave me perfume. I'm not sure how it works here in Pomefiore, but is there something so special with it to the point where people were hounding me about it?" You sighed, recounting your experience while simultaneously ignoring the thought-provoking comments the other first years threw your way. "They even bothered Epel about it. I want to know the context, at the very least."
Vil's eyes widened for a split second before returning to normal. He stayed silent for a few seconds before a smile spread across his face. Then, a giggle left his lips. You simply stared at him in shock and wondered if he thought of you as ridiculous for not knowing. You haven't seen Vil this amused over a simple question.
When his amusement slowly died down, he was finally able to give you a proper response.
"It's because it's mine."
"Excuse me?"
Just when you thought you could finally breathe, Vil stepped towards you, closing the distance once more. He doesn't touch you like last time—no, this time, he leans forward. You instinctively took one step backwards, making sure that he was far enough so you could still function properly. Thankfully, he doesn't seem to mind the extra space (in fact, he seems a little happy that you're that conscious of him).
"The perfume I use is one of a kind," Vil started his explanation. "Branding is important for any public figure. If I want to establish myself from the crowd, I shouldn't settle for things that can be used by anyone. Most of my things, if not all, are custom-made to suit the image of me I present to everyone else.
"The perfume I gave you is merely one of those things. The exclusivity that comes with that scent is one of the perks given to me when I had it made." He paused. "Then I shared that with you. People are obviously going to talk. Why would I let someone else use the same scent as me? I'm sure some of them even went as far as to think you somehow threatened me to get it, but they're just fools who love to talk."
The distance between you became an issue. Vil went even closer.
"It's special because it came from me." He hooked his finger under your chin. "And if you ask me why I gave you perfume…"
You felt your heart jump out of your chest when he smiled at you—a smile so gentle, it betrayed his next words.
"I simply wanted to monopolize you. Down to your very scent."