Chapter Text
From an early age, Vil Schoenheit has been at the center of attention; being born to two of the most prolific movie stars in modern history and acting in roles from an early age; he found himself well-accustomed to the spotlight, the fame, the attention; He adored it, the countless eyes upon him, the way he could work himself into the thoughts of everyone around, it was a gift, his gift.
“You must be kidding!?” the gruff man’s voiced echoed through the living room
“No! I’m adulting!” responded a young boy, blonde, sat in a recliner, with a newspaper tossed across his lap. Over his words a familiar echo of rushed laugh floods the ears.
Vil stared at the flickering screen with distaste, watching his younger self with eagle like precision, the glass of red wine sat in his hand, a scowl fixed upon his face as a sense of loathing washed over him.
He was never a fan of his earlier portfolio, he always seems to seem clear imperfections in the childish roles, from not enunciating his lines, to weak body language; To have such embarrassing positions attached to his name made him want crawl into a dark pit and disappear, but alas, that is not an option for America’s ‘Wicked Witch”
“Mr. Schoenheit? You’re on 5 minutes.” The assistant called out to him, dressed in the foreign lavender tinted attire, showcasing his status as an intern.
Vil turned in the plush loveseat, glass haphazardly discarded on the glass coffee table, as he rose to his full height and strolled out of the brightly lit room.
The screams of the audience overpowered his senses as he stood by the brightly colored stage. Head up, back straight, shoulders back, eyes ahead as he walked out into the set.
"Welcome! Mr. Schoenheit!!"