Chapter Text
Five days until they were leaving.
That was the first thought that greeted Epel the moment the sunlight hit his eyes. The bright light was a harsh awakening: Epel wanted to turn around and bury his face into a pillow almost immediately.
Yet his eyes couldn’t tear away from the sunrise. Even through the patterns of the stained glass, Epel could see the morning colours softening and scattering into the horizon: vibrant reds, oranges, yellows, and soft pinks and purples. It was a subtle, serene kind of calm. The sky was perfectly clear.
Epel pulled himself up from the comforting mattress beneath him, rubbing the corner of his eyes. It was rare to see a sunrise so early at this time of the year. Pomefiore’s morning routines already had a requirement of waking up early in the morning—because of it, Epel took any chance he could to sleep in and get additional sleep.
But he couldn’t find it in himself to go back to resting. The longer his eyes gazed into the morning light peeking through the glass window, the more awake he found himself. It was a tranquil sight. The warmth touched and embraced his body.
The sight of the sunrise was supposed to be a moment of calmness.
But Epel couldn’t ignore the lingering thought in his head.
It was five days before Vil and Rook were going to leave Night Raven College to attend their internships.
Epel didn’t understand why that was the first thought that came into his head the moment he woke up.
Then again… he hadn’t been sleeping well as of late, either.
The idea had been haunting him for the past few days, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. It was the same thought that kept lingering in his mind, popping up randomly and stubbornly sticking in his head, no matter what he was doing or who he was hanging out with.
When he was participating in club activities—when he was supposed to focus on improving and honing his skills, it felt like his body wasn’t present in the moment.
When he was in class or in the library—when he was supposed to be focusing on his summer elective class, it only seemed like the words and information were blurring together.
When he was hanging out with his friends—when he was supposed to be having fun, it only made him feel worse.
When he was with Vil or Rook—when he was supposed to enjoy the last few days he had with them before they inevitably left… he couldn’t even enjoy that.
Because that stupid thought kept clawing back into his mind.
They were going to be gone soon.
Epel couldn’t draw his eyes away from the bright sky while his thoughts were already beginning to spiral.
Today marked the fifth-last day before the dark carriage would take them away from Night Raven College and to their internships. Epel found himself calculating the days until their departure the very moment he was awake—he couldn’t help it. The day was coming faster than Epel could anticipate.
Neither Rook nor Vil seemed upset about the upcoming change. If anything, they both seemed excited to start their internships.
Rook was constantly going on passionate tangents about that archaeological research facility in the Shaftlands that he was going to be working in. He ranted and rambled about it endlessly, practically talking Epel’s ears off as he mentioned every single unique detail about the place. He could talk about many things for an infinite amount of time with the same thrilled energy that Epel found himself growing fond of.
Vil, too, was doing his own research on the new film studio he was attending. Vil didn’t show his excitement in the same way that Rook did, but Epel could see the small signs. The way the corner of his lips would twitch upwards as he talked about the studio, the way he talked ever-so-slightly faster whenever Epel asked a question about it… Though his energy wasn’t as evident as Rook’s, it was obvious that Vil was also eager about the start of this new year.
Epel just wished that he wasn’t immune to their enthusiasm.
On any regular occasion, their energy would be contagious to him. When one of them was thrilled about something, Epel would find himself getting psyched up without even meaning to. The start of the new school year was also a promise of a new beginning. It was supposed to be something to embrace—to celebrate. To be excited.
Epel wasn’t excited about it.
If anything, he was dreading it.
He didn’t understand why. He should’ve been happy, right? The new year was a fresh start. His second year would be full of new opportunities, new classes, new routines…
His chest tightened involuntarily.
The idea of a new routine was something he didn’t want to think about.
A new routine in the new school year meant that the current, simplistic “every day” routines in the dormitory wouldn’t be the same anymore. He wouldn’t be eating Pomefiore’s ridiculously plain dinners with Vil and Rook anymore. Nor would he be able to talk to them in the morning like he had been for the past year. Nor would he be able to crack up at their familiar inside jokes.
Nor would he hear Vil’s constant nagging anymore. Nor would he hear Rook’s constant, eccentric rants daily. Nor would he experience the two of them doting on him like an annoying couple of parents again.
Nor would he be able to even talk to them the same again.
Instead, it would be a new routine. Epel would be the one to wear Pomefiore’s heavy crown. Epel would be the one to sleep in the large, designated bedroom for housewardens. Epel would be the one to present the dormitory, wearing high heels and perfect makeup and being the new face of Pomefiore. Epel would be the one to enforce curfews, rules, and standards. Epel would be the one to organize dormitory events and tasks. Epel would be the one in the position to mentor and help other members hone their skills.
All without their help.
Epel swallowed the heavy lump in his throat.
No. He didn’t want to think about that. Not now.
“It’s still five days away,” he murmured aloud.
He internally winced at how croaky his voice sounded. He would blame his ungraceful, hoarse voice on the fact that he had just woken up. He took a quick glance around the dark bedroom cautiously. His roommates were still fast asleep—peaceful and calm, in complete contrast to him. Good.
“It’s five days away,” Epel repeated softly, trying to ground himself in reality. “That’s still lots of time.”
Five days before they’d leave.
Then it would turn into four.
Then three.
Then two.
Then one.
…
That wasn’t fair. That was basically tomorrow, in a way.
Epel remained staring at the sunrise. Despite his heavy eyelids and his vision beginning to blur, his gaze remained fixed. He didn’t dare tear it away as more golden warmth spread throughout the horizon. Despite its warm glow, Epel couldn’t help but feel an uneasy chill spread throughout his body. He stared at the sun as though he could freeze time.
Because right now? He wanted to.
He wanted to freeze time and keep them here for longer.
But the day and night would continue to pass by, uncaring and indifferent to his spiralling sorrow.
And when Epel’s eyes began to tear up as he continued to stare, he would blame it on the sun’s mocking light.
The day passed by too quickly.
One moment, Epel was up from his bed. With his hair tousled and messy, his gaze fixated on the sun, his stomach uncomfortably churning while his eyes teared and burned.
The next thing he knew, the sun was already beginning to set.
Orange, pink, and purple hues were shining through the stained glass windows while he sat at the ornate, extravagant table of Pomefiore’s dining room. His hands were operating on autopilot, putting in effort to appear elegant as he forced down bites of the horrifically bland supper which Vil had planned for the students.
The food was still disgustingly plain; Epel would admit that. Yet he found himself putting in little effort to appear poised as he raised his fork to his mouth. Perhaps his body had finally learnt the routine of elegance.
In front of him sat Vil and Rook. The two were sitting beside each other. Vil was dining with a familiar level of poise and grace—a perfect posture and a rested face as he took small bites from his plate. Rook, meanwhile, was rambling about something once more. Epel wasn’t listening to the topic; Rook was probably ranting about the archaeological research facility in the Shaftlands again. This had become a regular occurrence throughout the month. Epel learned when it was best to hum and nod his head—he knew he should’ve been listening to Rook, but for some reason, his mind couldn’t quite register his words.
Whenever he wanted to focus on the moment and put his full focus on Vil and Rook, he could only think about that horrible thought again.
They were going to be gone soon.
His fingers tightened on the fork in his hand as he took another bite of the plain, unseasoned meat on his plate.
The moment he swallowed it, his throat tightened and dried up. Epel tried his best to keep a neutral expression as his other hand reached for his glass of water, his fingers slightly quivering as he raised the glass to his mouth.
He took a sip of water. Then two. Then three. Then placed the glass back down onto the table, trying to swallow the uncomfortable lump in his throat. The uncomfortable feeling hadn’t gone away despite sipping his drink, but Epel hoped it would fade away eventually.
He glanced back up at the two in front of him. They were still eating casually without any care in the world. Rook was still rambling.
Epel forced himself to take a deep breath, his fork absentmindedly stabbing into the vegetables repeatedly as he grounded himself back into reality.
“Rook,” Vil’s words were the first to reach his ears. “You have yet to take a bite from your plate. Your chatty rambling can wait for a few minutes, can it not?”
“Ah! You’re correct. Forgive me, Roi du Poison. I simply can’t help it,” Rook’s voice registered in his head next.
Epel raised the fork to his mouth, ready to take another bite of his meal.
“I cannot help but be excited for our internships! I can’t wait to arrive at that research facility and see every glimpse of beauty from the past with my own eyes. It’s only a few days away, can you believe it?”
The fork stopped halfway to his mouth.
If it hadn’t been for the tight grip his fingers had on the utensil, he was sure it would’ve dropped onto the floor with a large clatter.
Hearing Rook’s words felt like a stab to his chest. The dining room around him seemed to freeze: Epel could no longer hear the distant conversations of others or the sound of utensils digging into their meals. Vil’s and Rook’s conversation was beginning to fade into background noise again.
He knew Rook was excited for his internships—Rook had made it unmistakable from his constant rambling.
But hearing Rook’s words, so blunt and obvious, made Epel’s chest tighten.
The reality settled into Epel’s head immediately.
Rook’s words were harmless in themselves. Epel could brush them off if he tried hard enough. But something about the way Rook said it—the certainty in his voice, his clear excitement, the bright grin on his face while he started talking about it once more… it left no room for doubt in Epel’s mind.
There was no way Epel could pretend the day was still far away. No way he could pretend it was distant or uncertain. It wasn’t just something Epel was imagining in his head, nor was he just being dramatic about it.
It was going to happen. The day was coming.
Something small in Epel’s head had convinced him—made him internally pray to the Seven—that maybe something could go wrong. That the headmage could lose their fourth-year internship papers at the last minute; it wouldn’t be surprising for their incompetent headmage to do such a thing, right?
But he couldn’t keep lying to himself any longer.
They would be leaving in five days—closer to four days, now, actually.
Every faint word leaving Rook’s and Vil’s lips felt like something he would remember later. They’re both still there, right in front of him. Both were seated and eating their supper, looking perfectly relaxed and comfortable. They were close enough for Epel to hear, close enough for Epel to reach, close enough for him to realize that nothing had changed.
Nothing had changed yet.
…
But Epel could already see the changes.
A week later, in the future, he’ll be sitting at this exact spot at the dining table. The two chairs in front of him—the chairs dedicated to Vil and Rook—will be empty.
The worst part about this was seeing their evident excitement. Rook seemed so happy about it. There wasn’t any hesitation or regret in his words, nor were there any second thoughts. Epel could see a subtle, excited glint in Vil’s own eyes.
Their internships were something that both of them wanted. Which should’ve been obvious—internships were a major thing, after all. Especially in Night Raven College.
It was happening. It was always going to happen. Epel couldn’t do anything to change it, no matter how hard he tried.
And the realization settled in his stomach, stirring uncomfortably. Epel felt sick—like the air around him was sharp and suffocating him.
“...pel?”
He blinked rapidly, suddenly looking forward.
They were both looking at him.
“...huh? What?” Epel managed out, his voice thin.
“Your food,” Vil gestured at the fork still raised halfway to his mouth. “Are you going to eat that? You look ridiculous with your mouth hanging open like that.”
Shit.
“Oh… umm—yeah. Right,” he quickly stammered in reply, feeling his face warm up as he lifted the fork into his mouth.
He took a bite and forced himself to swallow it, ignoring the tightness in his throat.
The conversation between Rook and Vil continued. Epel nodded and hummed along as he continued to eat the rest of his supper mindlessly, even though their words weren’t reaching him. Their words and voices blurred together, too loud yet too distant at the same time.
They were excited about their internships. They had been waiting for them since their first day at Night Raven College. They didn’t look anxious or worried whatsoever.
What about everything here?
The thought slipped into Epel’s mind uninvited.
What about all the memories they shared here?
The churning in his gut grew. He definitely didn’t have any appetite anymore.
What about him?
Epel found himself getting up from his chair, half of his food remaining untouched on his plate. He hated to waste food, but he couldn’t force it down his throat anymore.
“I’m going to head to my room for a bit,” he said, barely registering how quiet his voice sounded within the loud dining room. “I’ll be out for Pomefiore’s nightly yoga routine. I’m—uh… just not feeling too good right now, is all. My head kinda hurts.”
It was a flimsy excuse. He knew it was. He also knew he was far from the best liar—and it happened to be that Vil and Rook were excellent lie detectors.
For a moment, Epel thought they would question him or push him to stay seated. Both their eyes dug into Epel’s, studying his posture and behaviour, their looks completely unreadable.
Epel watched as Vil and Rook gave each other a quick glance. It was a silent gesture, only comprehensible for the two of them, something which Epel hated being unable to understand.
But the moment passed.
Vil nodded in approval. “Very well. Don’t nap for too long, Epel.”
“Y-Yes. I won’t.”
“Feel better soon, Monsieur Pommette,” Rook added with an unreadable smile.
And that was it. No questioning. No hesitation. Neither of them seemed to read into Epel’s behaviour, even though Epel knew damn well they could have.
The younger boy gave a quick nod, muttering a quiet “thanks” before moving to put his plate away.
He didn’t glance in their direction again. He didn’t want to look at them again. He couldn’t. He couldn’t look at either of them in the eye—not now, when his thoughts were a scrambled mess.
So he didn’t. He forced his gaze to the floor beneath him as he walked away.
And when he reached the corridor, his strolling pace quickened. He was practically sprinting down the empty hall, which was technically against the dorm’s rules, but he couldn't care less about that right now.
Through each large window of the hallway, Epel could see the sunset’s colours shining through and reflecting through the glass. Now, instead of being dominated by fiery colours like yellows and oranges, there was a blend of pinks and purples in the sky.
The sunset had nearly ended.
The more Epel looked into the light, the more he realized it felt like it was mocking him. Laughing at him.
Time was passing by way too quickly.
His time with Vil and Rook was running out.
And Epel was completely powerless to change it.
His hand gripped the doorbell tightly, swinging it open and shutting it forcefully behind him. He couldn’t help it—he couldn’t control how forceful and uncontrolled his actions were right now.
For a moment, he just stood there in the darkness of his room.
His bedroom was a horrific reminder of the upcoming change, too. He had nearly everything packed in boxes, ready to transfer to his new dorm room.
He already knew where his dorm room would be, too. It was going to be the same bedroom Vil had. Epel planned to keep everything the same as it could be, too: a queen-sized bed, a special and golden chandelier above his bed, mirrors everywhere… even the large vanity that Epel used to consider was extremely unnecessary.
The only thing Epel would change is putting his crates of apples and apple-themed furniture around the place. All of Harveston’s furniture was packed together tightly into one big box. He remembered feeling homesick, clinging to that furniture like a lifeline during his first few months at Night Raven College.
At least all those reminders of home would bring him a sense of comfort… wouldn’t it?
But that wouldn’t change the fact that the people he considered his second home would still be leaving.
Having Vil and Rook gone would only amplify that homesick feeling, after all.
Fuck. Epel already felt nauseous just thinking about it.
He didn’t bother fighting the urge to collapse into his bed. His body hit the plush mattress beneath him with a soft thud as his eyes glided back to stare at the window.
“They aren’t leaving today,” Epel muttered to himself—trying to ground it into his stubborn mind. “They don’t leave today.”
That didn’t make tomorrow any further away.
“…They don’t leave tomorrow, either...”
That didn’t change the fact that they were eventually leaving.
“They’re still here. There's still time.”
But the way that the sun had nearly faded past the horizon seemed to mock him—to tell him the exact complete opposite.
There wasn’t enough time.
Vil and Rook were leaving him eventually—no matter how desperate Epel became.
And nothing was going to change that.