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One would think that after the many times of losing to Neige LeBlanche in his thirteen years of life, Vil would have gotten used to it. It wasn’t unnatural for Neige to get the role that Vil had auditioned for, or for Vil to be turned away from a commercial production because Neige had already been called, or for Neige to appear at the same time as Vil at a hotel and have it be swarmed with fans to the point of Vil having to rebook.
Yes, those were all true stories. Yes, those had all happened more than once.
And yet, as Vil stood next to Neige - Neige, who had just received the Twisted Acting Award for the fifth year in a row - he felt the same all-consuming rage bubble up in his chest.
Deep down, he knew that it wasn’t Neige’s fault that people liked him more than Vil. Neige was many things, but manipulative was the furthest thing from him possible; he was too pure-hearted to do anything as dirty as sabotage Vil in any way.
And that made it all so much worse.
Alas, Vil could not show his true feelings as long as he was in public. So when Neige accepted his award, Vil had kept his confident demeanor up all the way until he was backstage and truly alone. Then he let the rage out on the poor makeup stand, throwing things here and there.
Sure, looking back he realizes that he could have probably had more tact—but that was five years ago. Vil had been 13 and still very angry at the world.
In his anger, he stormed out of his cabin, dodging the security that his father had hired and walking right out of the convention center where the awards were being handed out. He only went out to catch his breath for a few seconds—but then, suddenly, a sound came from the alleyway to his right, and he froze. It sounded like…sobs?
Curiosity won Vil over and he crept towards the alleyway, peeking his head around the corner, peering into the alleyway cautiously. And when he did, he saw—
…A boy? he gasped. His gasp had been loud enough to alert the boy, whose head shot up instantly, his eyes locking onto Vil.
Vil nervously stepped around the corner. “…Hello,” he greeted cautiously, his eyes raking over the boy as he mentally catalogued the boy’s features. Wavy purple hair, very dirty, very small, malnourished. “Are you ok?”
The boy stared back at Vil, his eyes narrowed in distrust. If this was a homeless boy like Vil believed, he wouldn't be surprised.
Nevertheless, Vil continued, “I’m Vil Sch…I mean, I’m Vil. You can call me Vil.” Even though this was a child, and even though Vil was very well-known around Twisted, giving away his identity for free to strangers was never a good idea. “What’s your name?”
“…Epel,” the boy had replied, his high-pitched voice raspy as if he hadn’t used it in quite some time. The name tickled Vil’s mind, as if he had heard it from somewhere before. But before he could dissect that thought, he heard panicked footsteps running towards him. “Vil!”
Vil turned and was surprised to find his father running at him, eyes wide in both relief and worry. “Ah…father.”
“Vil, please don’t sneak off like that,” his father said, landing both of his hands on Vil’s shoulders. “What were you even doing out here?”
“I was…” Vil’s eyes flickered to the alleyway, barely spotting the boy - Epel - squatting behind the dumpster, as if trying to stay hidden. Very well. “…I just needed to clear my head.”
Vil’s father pressed a kiss to Vil’s forehead. “And that’s completely understandable. Just…please tell someone next time, okay?”
A pang of guilt stabbed Vil’s heart and he swallowed, nodding. “Sorry, father,” he said quietly.
As his father led him back into the convention center, Vil’s eyes wandered back towards the alleyway. Maybe…
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The next time had been while Vil was in public - in disguise, of course - a few weeks later. Vil had been heading back to the hotel after spending time with his childhood friend that he hadn’t seen in a few years, Jack Howl, when he stumbled across a different alleyway. This time though, it wasn’t just Epel in the alleyway—there were two adults crowding over him.
Vil instantly put down the plate of food that Jack’s family had given him and took out his taser from his purse. “Hey,” he snapped, “get away from him!”
The two adults turned around, glaring at Vil. “Eh? Who the hell are you?” The moment one of them even stepped towards Vil, he fired the taser without hesitation, unwavering even as the man fell and started to shake on the ground. The other man’s eyes widened and he ran away.
Vil kept the taser on until the first man’s eyes rolled back into his head. He finally turned it off and walked forward, kicking the man lightly, satisfied when he didn’t do anything. Then, Vil looked at Epel.
Epel had been curled up in a ball against the brick wall, but when Vil showed up, he stared starry-eyed as Vil defeated the two men. “So cool…!”
Vil flushed slightly at the pure admiration radiating off of the boy. “W-well, I couldn’t just let them attack you like that.” He grabbed the plate of food and approached Epel. “Are you hurt? I’m knowledgeable enough with first aid.”
Epel shook his head. “N-no, I’m f…” He trailed off as Vil got closer, and suddenly, his stomach rumbled loudly. His face turned red and his expression turned horrified.
Vil blinked, and it was only now that he remembered—Epel was probably homeless and hungry. So, without further thought, Vil held the plate out. “Here, take it.”
Epel’s eyes widened. “Huh?”
“You can have it,” Vil replied. “I’m not hungry.”
Epel’s face twisted into an ugly expression. “I don’t need yer pity,” he spat, a slight accent coming out.
Vil rolled his eyes. “It’s not pity. I don’t like this food, but I don’t want to waste it. Might as well give it to you.” That had been a lie, of course; Jack’s family was very good at cooking and Vil had specifically chosen his portions to fit his own tastes. However, if lying meant Epel would take the food, he would do it without hesitation.
He smirked when Epel grabbed the plate, opening it up. Epel’s face lit up. “Thank you…!”
Vil’s expression softened. He checked the time and reasoned to himself, I still have some time left before I need to be back. And so, he leaned against the same wall that Epel was sitting against, and he asked, “What were you doing before I got here?”
And there they spent an hour chatting about anything and everything. Nothing specific - neither boy was too eager to share anything too personal - but it was fun all the same. And when Vil’s father finally called for him to make his way back, Vil sent Epel an apologetic look.
It was…nice, being with someone who didn’t know him as the actor, Vil Schoenheit. Not that Vil was ashamed of his celebrity status or his reputation; he worked hard to curate it, and he found it enjoyable to hold himself to such a high standard. But…
Epel didn’t have any preconceived notions about Vil. He didn’t even know who Neige was, and after Vil fed him, he looked at Vil like Vil was the coolest person on earth.
Maybe it was selfish, but Vil didn’t want to ruin that image that Epel had of him. So, he didn’t. He told Epel that he’d see him around some day and walked away from the alleyway.
Maybe I can come back, he thought to himself. Bring some more food for him, or something.
Yes, that seemed like a good plan.
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Vil didn’t see Epel for months following that encounter.
Sure, it was partially because Vil had been cast for a role - yet another villain, ugh - and was busy on most days, but even outside of that, he hadn’t even seen a hint of Epel anywhere. He would routinely check every alleyway he walked by, sometimes taking longer routes just to walk by more alleyways—but there was no sign of the purple-haired youth.
Vil didn’t want to think negatively - Realistically, his brain whispered - so he chose to believe that Epel was somewhere else in Twisted. The city was, after all, unfathomably large; there was no way Vil was going to be able to check every single alleyway. Clearly, Epel had just found somewhere good to hide out.
Or so Vil thought, until he found himself as the one being mugged by some strangers. Turns out his public disguise wasn’t quite good enough; he had been grabbed and taken into an alleyway, threatened with a gun to his head.
Now, Vil wasn’t a helpless person, as he had learned self-defense when he was very young. However, these guys had gotten the drop on him, and he had been shocked enough for them to tie rope around his wrists and tape his mouth shut.
“You’re that Vil Schoenheit guy,” one of the robbers snarled. “You must be at least worth a million!” This guy was the one pressing the gun to Vil’s head. Vil glared back but didn’t dare move; any sudden movements might have caused suspicion, and he wanted to ensure he got out of here in one piece.
But then, a presence appeared at the entrance to the alleyway. “Get away from him.”
Vil’s eyes widened. Epel! As the men turned, Vil was surprised to see the younger boy glaring fiercely at the adults, his fists tightened in rage.
The man holding the gun laughed boisterously. “Hah! Look at this runt, thinkin’ he can do shit!” He pressed the gun more harshly into Vil’s temple - it was more annoying than scary - and Epel’s eyes widened.
But then, Epel said—something. And suddenly, all of the adults fell to the ground, lifeless. Vil stumbled as the man with the gun fell to the ground, pulling Vil along with him. And then Vil’s eyes widened when he realized—they had literally fallen, lifeless. None of their chests were moving.
He looked up as Epel started walking to Vil, helping him untie the ropes. Then, Vil ripped off the tape from his mouth and blurted out, “What was that?!”
Epel shrunk back at Vil’s tone. “I…”
Vil reached out, pressing two of his fingers into one of the men’s pulse points at his wrist; he felt vaguely sick when the skin was ice-cold and there was no heartbeat. “They…you killed them?”
Epel’s face paled further—not that Vil saw. If he had, maybe he would have tried to calm down and ask what exactly happened. Alas, Vil had been scared, so instead, he had stepped away from Epel, his expression guarded.
Epel’s face screwed up, and his eyes became watery. Vil saw this and paused; why was Epel crying?
But then, Epel turned and ran, far too fast for Vil to keep up. He reached out and called desperately, “W-wait, Epel! Come back!”
He ran out of the alleyway, looking to the right where Epel had turned—but he had already disappeared.
Vil clenched his fists and he resisted the urge to punch something. I…that was stupid. He saved me, and I repaid him by blaming him.
Tears welled up in the corner of his eyes. In the back of his mind, he thought to himself, If Neige were here, he would have heard Epel out. Neige wouldn’t have caused Epel to run away. Heck, Neige would have found some way to help Epel out of his homeless situation.
Vil…he didn’t. The first time he met Epel, he had been so upset at losing to Neige that after his father led him away, all thoughts of Epel had faded. The second time, he convinced himself that Epel was fine on his own, and that he had already been gracious enough to give him food. And now…
Vil scared him away, because he judged first. Neige wouldn’t have judged Epel. Yet another way that Vil had lost to Neige. Except this time, he lost something far more valuable than a trophy or a role.
He lost a friend. A friend who was in constant danger purely from his circumstances. And Vil would never forgive himself for this.
Maybe that’s why, five years later, he’s still on the lookout for a homeless purple-haired teenager. Maybe that’s why he’s spent more time looking into helping the homeless shelters than trying to one-up Neige. Maybe that’s why he’s been donating his money to the orphanages.
He couldn’t help Epel then—but maybe he can help someone now.