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Epel groaned when his alarm went off early in the morning. Usually he'd get up later, but Vil and Rook wanted him for some sort of early morning practice. 𝘈𝘭𝘭-𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬 early morning practice.
He checked around the room to make sure that his roommates weren't too disturbed by the sound. They were already used to how much earlier he had to get up than anyone else, though, so they were probably fine.
Epel rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he walked down the hallway to the bathroom. In Pomefiore, though everyone shared a common bathroom (except for the Housewarden), the sinks were sectioned off to allow everyone their own space to put themselves together in the morning. Everyone has their own vanities too, though Epel thought it was stupid.
He opened and shut the bathroom door as quietly as he could, then went over to his dressing stall, pointedly ignoring the big mirror on the back wall.
Epel Felmier had very 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 opinions on his appearance. At first he had hated it. He was so 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘺 and 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬 and ugh, he hated it. Over time, as much as he didn't want to admit it, he began to appreciate his looks. With all that Epel disliked about it, Rook and Vil had put a lot of effort into Epel's beauty. Contrary to what he originally thought, they didn't just want him to be a cute face. They taught him how to use his sweet looks to his advantage, to be their poison apple. Vil had expressed his desire to turn Epel from a pretty boy into a beautiful young man, and it was working. Not only that, he has gained some muscle from Spelldrive, so while he was nowhere near as muscular as Jack or Leona, he was inching closer to his dream physique.
His dream body had changed, really. Of course he had not let go of his want for muscles, but when he envisioned himself, he saw beauty as well as strength.
Maybe he had started liking the idea of being a poisoned apple.
But lately, when he looked in a mirror, he didn't see his ideal body, nor his sickly-sweet stature.
All he saw was a week little boy.
He had tried ignoring it, knowing that it was just his mind playing tricks on him. But some nights would lead to hours of him staring at his reflection.
He couldn't explain it. It just wasn't him he saw in the mirror. Some days it was a twisted version of himself. His eyes were too wide, his smile was too sharp, his neck was too long, it was all 𝘰𝘧𝘧. Some days he looked up to see himself covered in blot, his eyes leaking the nasty stuff, his mouth full of it. And some days he would see his younger self, around thirteen or fourteen maybe. He looked so 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨, so weak and scared and sickening.
Over the past couple of weeks, it had gotten to a point in which he could not look at himself in a mirror anymore. Even a glance would strike him so full of fear he trembled. He felt sick whenever he looked at his body, what once was growing into what he wanted now so out of proportion.
Of course Epel's friends noticed, although after a few failed attempts from Yuu, no one brought it up again. It wasn't just his friends that noticed. He could practically feel the states from Leona and Ruggie after Spelldrive practice from how he always flinched upon seeing a mirror when changing out.
Whatever. It wasn't like they could understand. Hell, 𝘩𝘦 could barely understand what was going on. All he had to do was avoid looking in a mirror. It wasn't that hard.
Once Epel finished getting dressed, he left the changing stall. Next was his skincare.
Unsurprisingly, it was difficult to do his skincare without looking at his reflection, but the past weeks had left him with plenty of practice. He did the bare minimum, wanting to leave the mirror filled room as quickly as possible. As soon as he was done he left, barely able to keep himself from running.
His trip throughout the halls of Pomefiore was silent. Almost no one was awake. It was a bit unsettling, but considering it was a weekend, Epel assumed the residents were just getting their "beauty sleep".
He made his way to the room his Housewarden instructed him to go to. He recognized the area, though he hadn't been there much. A few remedial lessons here and there.
Before entering, he knocked on the door. He wasn't about to get scolded for a lack of proper etiquette.
"You may enter."
With a click the door opened and Epel stepped in.
He was immediately met with his own face.
He froze, his eyes wide. It was like time stopped. There was nothing in the world but him and that stupid, full-body mirror.
The reflection looked normal at first. But the longer he stared at it, the more his image contorted. It was repulsive, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.
"Epel!"
And then he was being pulled away. His sight was ripped from his reflection and turned towards a worried Vil.
"Rook, take the mirror away. Epel, can you hear me?"
The lavender haired boy tried to nod, but it was like he had turned to stone. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak.
"Epel, I'm going to sit the two of us down, alright?"
Vil carefully put a hand on his protege's shoulder and led them down to a sitting position on the floor. Then he took Epel's hands in his and brought them too his chest.
"Feel my heartbeat? Feel my breathing? I need you to follow my breathing. Can you do that?"
Vil took up a simple breathing pattern he knew worked well for panic attacks. Behind them, Rook had moved the full-body mirror and worked on covering up any other reflective surface in the room. They had started the early morning practices with the intention of addressing Epel's fear. But they had no idea it was that extreme. The mirror hasn't been there on purpose. It was there for a later exercise, sure, but not as soon as the younger boy entered. Vil knew she had made a mistake, but right then her focus was on her poison apple.
It took some time, but Epel eventually evened out his breathing. He was still tense, but the boy regained his ability to blink and move, albeit a bit stiff.
"Epel? Are you there?"
A nod. Good. He could move again.
"Can you speak?"
"Hmm..."
Well, that was better than nothing. Rook walked over and sat down next to Vil, worry evident on his face.
"Monsieur Pommette?"
"Hmmm..."
"Humming is not speech, Little Potato. Are you able to speak?"
Epel brought his hands up against himself and looked down.
"A bit..."
Vil sighed in relief.
"That's better."
The three of them sat in silence. Epel continued to steady his breathing, head in his own world. Room and Vil didn't interrupt him, waiting for him to be able to fully function again before doing anything else.
When Epel finally looked back up, his eyes were dark and watery. The sight pained the other two.
"How are you feeling, Potato?"
"Ah c'n talk now, ah guess."
Vil bit his tongue to keep himself from correcting his accent. There were more important things.
"Ready to tell is what that was about?"
The freshman's eyes went wide.
"Ah, ah would rather not, sir."
Vil forwned.
"You don't have a choice in this matter, Epel."
Before he could argue back, Rook cut in.
"Ah, Monsieur Pommette, we worry for you! It is quite odd for one to be afraid of their own reflection, let alone a member of Pomefiore. Especially considering this wasn't a problem at the beginning of the year. We don't want you feeling this way at all!"
The hunter grabbed one of Epel's hands, startling the boy. He turned to look at Vil.
"I may be harsh, but I do it because I care. I hope you see that. I 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 you to see that. I want you to trust me and I need you to tell us what is going on so we can help you, because your fear has taken over your life and has become an issue. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶."
Rook's thumb rubbed comfortingly over Epel's knuckles. And Epel...
He felt like he was safe all of a sudden. The last weeks had felt like a personal hell, and he had isolated himself because of it. But now he saw an out. His Housewarden and Vice — no, his family — were there for him. They wanted to help him. Maybe they could save him from whatever hell his mind had conjured up. He wanted them to help him. He hoped they could.
"Ah," Epel took a breath. "I need help."
Then, so quiet it was almost imperceptible, "please."
It was like a huge weight had been lifted from Vil's chest. It was rare for his little potato to admit and accept the help he needed, and practically impossible to make him say please outside of etiquette lessons.
Rook, too, was relieved. Even if they had pushed him, if the boy rescued to talk there was nothing short of Fairest One of All they could use. But their apple wasn't that stubborn. And he needed help.
"Let us move somewhere more comfortable first," Vil said. Epel nodded and let himself be pulled up by his seniors. He was a bit unstable on his feet, which the other two noticed. Before Epel could object, Rook had tossed the younger boy over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
"Ack! Rook! Put me down!"
Vil snickered. "Rook, give him some dignity."
Instead of putting him down like he wanted, Rook flipped him around and continued carrying him, this time in a bridal carry.
"Hey!"
Vil did not say anything further, allowing her vice to keep carrying her protege. Epel gave up on his kicking around and poured in his spot in the hunter's arms. It was an endearing sight.
It didn't take long for the group to make it to Vil's room. They had gotten a few weird looks in the hallways, but considering Rook was there, it wasn't the most unusual thing. Besides, the glare Vil would send their ways made them rethink saying anything.
Vil unlocked and opened his door. He stepped in, Rook closely following. Rook then unceremoniously tossed Epel onto the bed, drawing a yelp from the boy.
The Housewarden just sighed. "Don't get my bed dirty; take off your shoes."
Epel grumbled, but complied. His shoes weren't dirty, he had cleaned them the night before, but whatever.
Once he got his shoes off, Vil sat down on the bed next to him. Rook sat on his other side.
The freshman was suddenly overcome with an intense feeling of awkwardness. What was he supposed to do, just start baring his heart?
Yeah, no way he was doing that.
Luckily, Vil started off the conversation.
"Epel," he began, "can you explain to us the problems you have with looking at mirrors?"
He bit his bottom lip. "Ah dunno how to start..."
He startled at a par on his head. Turning to face Vil directly, he made an inquisitive noise in the back of his throat.
"Start with why, then. Also, don't bite your lips."
Well then.
"Uhm, well... it's just that... it's not me I see."
Rook tilted his head. "Please explain further, Pommette, I don't quite understand what you mean."
He started off slowly. "I... whenever I look in a mirror, I see myself, but it's not me. Not 𝘮𝘦. There's always something wrong." Words began spilling out of him. "Sometimes there's blot, an' it's spillin' all outta me, like mah eyes or mah mouth, or, or it's jus' wrong, an' mah face is off an' my neck is too long an' my body is jus' 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨. An' sometimes ah'm a, a kid again, an' Sevens, ma, it's scarin' me so bad, it's scarin' me so bad..."
He broke down in sobs, clinging to Vil like a lifeline. Vil wasted no time in pulling him into her chest. Say what you will, Vil was soft for his little poison apple. Rook joined them, the three holding each other as if it were their last day on Twisted Wonderland.
Epel felt young again. He vaguely remembered his parents holding him like that after he had nightmares as a child. For some reason, he found comfort in feeling like a kid again.
He hadn't felt safe feeling like a child in a long time.
His Housewarden and Vice leg him cry everything out. The past few months all came crashing down in that moment. His tears soaked into Vil's shirt, which luckily was just a P.E shirt. Not that Vil would've minded either way.
When his tears slowed down, Rook began combing through his hair. They slowly pulled apart from each other, but they were much more entwined this time. Rook's hands were still in his hair and Vil's were resting on top of his own.
"Epel," he started. "I am so proud of you."
The lavender haired boy's breath caught.
"You... I haven't told you that enough. I'm so proud of you. You saved me so many times, you have put your all into improving yourself, even if not for my standards. And you've been putting on your makeup almost perfectly despite not having a mirror." Rook chuckled at that.
"I wish you told is, told me, about this before it had gotten this bad, but you 𝘢𝘳𝘦 a Night Raven College student, for better or for worse."
Epel felt a slight tug on his hair as he listened to his Housewarden speak. Was Rook tying up his hair?
Vil drew the boy's attention back with his next words.
"I think I know why this is happening."
His head snapped up, causing his hair to be ripped from the hunter's hands.
"Huh?" He ignored the slight pain in his head and Rook's floundering to keep his attention on Vil.
"Don't tear your hair!"
He sheepishly tilted his head. "Sorry, ma..."
Vil smiled at the name despite his displeasure.
"Be careful, Potato. Like I said, I think I know what caused this. It's quite simple, really."
Epel groaned. "Stop with all the lead up an' tell me already!"
The Housewarden sighed. "I was getting there." He readjusted the way he sat on the bed, ending up with Epel's legs tangled with his, and finally said his piece.
"Blot."
Hm? "Blot?"
She nodded. "You've survived three overblots, correct?" It was Epel's turn to nod.
"Everytime someone overblotted, blot miasma filled the air. The people around breathed it in, an although it wouldn't have much affect if you lived through just one, the repeated exposure made the blot miasma build up inside of you. The way that blot works made it... well, it'd be easier to show you." She paused. "Do you have your magical pen?"
An odd request, but, "Yes, I always keep it on me, I ain't stupid. Why?"
Vil held out his hand, silently asking for it. Though he was confused, be reached into his pocket and pulled out his pen, giving it to the elder.
He twirled the pen in his fingers once before holding it in front of their faces and pointing at the embedded magestone.
"Look at the stones. See the stain?"
Epel looked closer. Now that he was observing it more, he could see a dark spot near the bottom of his magestone. It freaked him out.
"Hah? Shit, am ah gonna overblot?"
Vil shook her head in mock exasperation. "Language, and no, you're not going to overblot. That's not real blot. It's just a stain. It's on Rook's too, see?"
The vice reached around his apple to show off his magestone, which sported a similar black splotch.
"Blot messes with your mind," he continued. "I'm sure that your friends have had similar bad experiences from the amount of blot exposure. What happened for you is the blot miasma, combined with your body image issues—" Epel winced at that, "—caused all this."
After his explanation, they waited for their apple to respond. He looked like he was pondering his Housewarden's words. Then, he said something that hurt the two juniors to their cores.
"If I told you that my... fear made my hurt myself, would you hate me?"
He said it so quietly too, making him seem all the more meek. It felt so wrong. Epel was never meek.
The longer the silence stretched, the more crestfallen the freshman appeared, until he had curled in on himself and far away from the other two.
"You would be..." he answered to himself. "Okay... I'm sor—"
"Where?" Vil asked, voice soft yet with an undertone that Epel couldn't quite place.
"Um, above my hip bone, on my side a bit?"
"Show me."
Epel gulped, but shuffled back to the side of the bed where the juniors were sitting. He lifted up the hem of his P.E shirt and waited for their verdict.
The scar on his side was misshapen and ugly. It was sunken into his body instead of being flat or raised. It clearly hadn't been taken care of correctly, the area was a raging red and looked as if it would get infected any minute. Epel's face burned with shame and he avoided the gazes of his Housewarden and Vice.
Surprisingly, neither of them said anything about what appearance and unhealthiness of the scar.
"Why?"
He might've preferred the reprimands.
"Are ya sure ya wanna know? It ain't... it ain't pretty."
Vil scoffed. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know. Do you think of me as stupid?"
Epel rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'll tell ya. I gotta tell some backstory first." He took a deep breath.
𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘰𝘬𝘢𝘺. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺... 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘴𝘰, 𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘵.
"The summer after I turned fourteen, one of the kids from the town had their cousins come over. Three, I think, two related and one friend they invited. And over the summer, all four of them... harassed me. The one native to Harveston had always been kinda an ass, but it got worse then.
I've always looked feminine and always been teased for it. These guys took it much further. They kept saying that since I looked like a girl, I gotta do what a girl is supposed to do for 'real men'."
Rook's brows furrowed. He didn't like where the story was going.
"They said, they said that girls were supposed to "pleasure" men. They never went all the way!" Epel added in haste when he saw the murderous glint in their eyes. "Just... touching. Grabbing. Harassment. That stuff. But.
Near the end of summer break, we were working to cook food for the town festival. While I was working, one of them came over and gave me one of those back huh things, ya' know? He started sayin' all those weird things an' started... grinding on me. I was fightin' against it, but I didn't realize he was still holding a knife from chopping up vegetables. So during the struggle..."
Vil and Rook could guess the rest.
Epel continued. "I can't remember the next part very well, but I ended up telling someone all that they were doin' ta me an' all four o' them got kicked outta Harveston, even the one that lived there originally. So that's the context for the original scar."
"The original?" Rook asked. "What about..."
"Getting there!" Epel snapped back. He immediately felt bad and whispered out a small apology before continuing.
"When the mirror... problem started, it wasn't that bad. But one of the times I looked, I saw me, but younger. Me from that summer. I could— ah could see their hands all over me, Sevens, it was like I could feel it again. It got to a point, an' ah just... needed the scar 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘦. It was reminding me all the damn time. So I cut it off. And now it's this."
He had sped through the last parts, but he knew they had caught it all. There it was, then. All laid out. Everything that was wrong with him.
He wanted to curl up and rot. He had never told anyone about what happened to him that summer, not even his freshman friend group. Sevens, with every second without a response from them, the more anxious he felt. He was about to backtrack when two pairs of arms wrapped around his shoulders and torso.
"Epel, Pommette, you are such a beautiful, strong young man! Your perseverance is truly inspiring. Such beauté!"
The strong arms around his torso gave him a slight squeeze, making Epel huff out a laugh in response.
"I have to agree with my hunter. Though, I do wish that you had told us this before. I could've helped you with covering the scar."
Vil's words may have seemed surface level, but one could hear the obvious care in his voice.
Surrounded by all this love and support, Epel's eyes refilled with tears. They just squeezed him tighter.
Out of nowhere, Rook pulled their group backward onto the center of the bed. Epel screeched out and started wriggling to get out of their grip, though he didn't really mean it.
Vil laughed and it sounded like safety. Rook began to wax poetic about nothing at all and it sounded like home.
The three of them spent the rest of their day in Vil's bedroom, talking about everything and nothing, growing ever-closer. More of Epel's small secrets came out and were met with kindness and support. Surprisingly, Vil and Rook spilled a few secrets of their own, and by the end of the night Epel felt like he really knew his Housewarden and Vice.
Cuddled in between them in Vil's bed, Epel's mind wandered. He would have never guessed how things would've gone down when he woke up that morning. Sometime during the day the three had made a plan on how to escape from his fear of mirrors. He didn't know how well it would work, if he would ever truly be able to look at himself the same again.
But he knew that he was safe. He knew that he was home. He could feel it in the way Vil's breath tickled against the top of his head, in the way Rook's hand was firm and comforting over his own.
Maybe one day his reflection would finally show who he was inside.