Why?

You cried on your wedding day.

.

.

.

You weren't sad, so to speak, but you certainly weren't happy. Truth be told, you didn't even know what you were feeling.

Betrayed? Not really.

Deceived? Possibly.

Utterly alone? Maybe that's it.

Your father walked you down the aisle. A man that was entering his fifties with the kindest eyes and sweetest smile. By now, grey hairs were popping up on his remarkably full hair. If you turned your head to the left, you would see your mother looking at you from a white cushioned seat like you were her whole world. Her beautiful eyes, that you were lucky to share with her, were filled to the brim with tears. Her smile was shaky, but loving as she stared at you.

You were dressed in your wedding robes that was made in the purest of white silk, you donned diamonds of sharpest cut, you wore pearls of the highest grading. Your right arm was interlocked with your father's left one as he guided you to Vil.

.

.

.

Everything was perfect. You had no reason to cry. No reason to regret. No reason to second guess yourself or your actions. No reason to rethink your love for the young man in front of you who looked at you with a fiery passion.

This Vil loved you. Are you sure about that? You were sure he did. Are you truly certain? He proved his love to you in every action that he made, regardless if it wasn't made with you being present. In turn, you loved him back with every ounce of your being. Your eyes never strayed to another, your heart never left his hold.

.

.

.

Vil looked stunning today. This was something you noticed as you finally reached the altar. You felt almost stupid for thinking so. "It's Vil Schoenheit, why wouldn't he be remarkably gorgeous?" Some people would say, but there was something different about him right now. Not just because he was basically a whole other person .

As you gazed into Vil's eyes, you felt tears gathering in your own. His violet irises seemed to have the motive of sucking you in without letting you go. His mouth, that was guarded by cherry colored lips, curled into a wider grin than before. Vil's body was parallel to your own. This allowed you to fully take in the beauty of the man is this even a man? you finally will be able to call yours.

Vil began to say his vows and with that, you were sucked into your thoughts.

You don't know what happened that day, and you are sure you'll never be able to know the truth.

.

.

.

The weather was being especially harsh that night.

The rain that fell created a sound that resembled a large bundle of rocks being thrown at a wall. Along with the noise, you swore you could hear thunder crackling in the background.

You and Vil laid on the silky bed awake while all of the shenanigans droned on. You were curled into yourselves--actually-- it was you who was curled into yourself with one of Vil's pale arms wrapped over your being. Neither of you spoke as you laid together, the chaotic nature of outside becoming background music.

Suddenly, there was a noise. A very loud one, in fact. It cut through the ambience of the distant thunder, stomped its way through the pounding of the rain, and made itself known.

You flinched at the sound of the noise before turning cautiously to your then boyfriend, Vil.

He was already looking at you when eye contact was made, his eyes boring into yours in a way that was more romantic than unsettling.

The noise continued.

"Babe?" You began, your voice raspy with sleep while simultaneously mixed with worry, "Do you have an idea of what that was?"

"I'm afraid I don't," Vil replied, "However, I could go outside and check, if you so wish."

"Are you sure about that? If you want, I could follow you."

"Do you take me as a child in need of supervision?" Vil joked warmly as he released himself from the comforting warmth of the bed, "No need to worry, my love. I haven't been deprived from the use of attack magic for that long."

You stared at him as he stood up for a few seconds longer before eventually sighing in compliance. As Vil moved towards the large, wonderfully decorated brown wooden doors, you called out to him one more time.

"Be safe!"

Vil turned back at you with a blank face before nodding and leaving the room.

It's been more than 30 minutes since Vil left the mansion and for those grueling minutes, you felt your anxiety build in strength.

Something has gone wrong. Something must've gone wrong. You've read enough ominous books and watched enough horror movies to understand what this circumstance entails.

You sit up from the bed, the silk blanket falling off your body and revealing your white night wear. You've spent enough time wasting away in your bed to allow this nonsense to continue.

.

.

.

The rain pours heavier than before.

Currently, you are outside the mansion, completely vulnerable to the elements.

.

.

It's cold, so cold, you think and feel to yourself. You weren't dumb enough to not bring your phone with you and that proved to be your only comfort as you walked around the building, searching for your boyfriend.

As time passed, you reached the back of the mansion and right there, approximately 12 meters in front of you, lay your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

The person you loved more than yourself.

The person whom you devoted your mind and body to was laying on the grassy ground of the back yard.

"Vil! Vil!" You cried out, a block forming in your throat and tears beginning to cloud your vision.

You ran with all your might to reach him.

.

.

.

Vil was unresponsive when you knelt by his body. His eyes were closed. His body was unsettlingly cold. Those cherry colored lips you stared at as a hobby were blue. A deadly blue.

A deadly blue.

Deadly.

Dead.

Vil is dead.

You released a sharp cry at this revelation and began to shake with despair--

Dead? Pfft- what a lie.

The love of your life wasn't dead.

No way would he be.

What you are seeing right now is a dream.

A weirdly vivid and realistic dream...

.

.

.

You must be an avid dreamer, then.

If the absurdness of the situation didn't convince you, then the weird liquid, but not fully a liquid, mass that was on Vil's body did.

The way the mass looked and moved seemed to break reality. It moved exotically, unnaturally--but with a purpose. It folded and turned over itself as it moved across Vil's rain stained body, revealing more of its strangely mesmerizing allure.

You feel light headed.

The absurdness of the situation is getting to you. Despite your countless attempts to convince yourself that what you were seeing wasn't reality, you never could fully do so.

The tears that left your eyes never stopped, it only amplified in speed and intensity as you watched the mass grow in size and eventually take up Vil's entire arm.

You were kneeling there, paralyzed with fear and disbelief, completely unfazed that your night wear was soiled with mud and soaked with water.

.

.

.

What are you doing? Just sitting there and allowing the mass to move across your boyfriend's body. You reached your shaky hand towards the mass, your goal being to remove it from Vil's body.

Unfortunately for you, the world went black before you could fully do so.

It didn't take you long for you to realize that the man that now slept at your side wasn't Vil. Wasn't your Vil at the very least.

.

.

.

It began when you woke up after that night.

Your eyes shot open as you loudly gasped on the bed. Sitting up, you took in the surrounds that was familiar to you.

It was your room that you were in. The one you shared with Vil at his mansion.

The room was coated in a bright, yellow glow from the sun. The curtains of the large windows to the right of your side of the bed were drawn open which allowed the sun's light to appear.

"Hm? My love, are you alright?" A soothing voice called out to you.

You flinched when you heard that voice, your body shaking erratically.

"...Vil?" You squeaked. Your chest was heaving due to your lungs working overtime to allow oxygen to entire your system.

"My love," The voice, which belonged to Vil, responded.

Was everything truly a dream? Are you truly that avid of a dreamer?

Your messy hair moved along with you as you turned your head towards Vil.

There he was. Vil Schoenheit. Standing beside his side of the bed in all his majestic glory. The sun hit his form in all the right ways, resulting in him having an ethereal glow that made his hair glisten angelically.

He was staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to speak.

Well, do something, damnit. Speak.

"I..." You croaked out, "What happened last night?"

"Do you not remember? I went out to check on the sound outside. Nothing was out there, though, if you were wondering."

Silence rested between you two as Vil finished articulating his last word.

Ah. So that means it really was a dream. You huffed a sigh of relief.

"That's good. Honestly, I don't what's wrong with me right now! I just had a dream that you died and...some kind of liquid-mass-thing was creeping on your body," You spoke, a reassured smile slowly appearing on your face.

The once neutral silence turned thick with tension once Vil heard you. In a flash, his once calm violet eyes hardened into a glare that dissipated as fast as it appeared.

"Mm... my love, I am very certain that that was a nightmare, not a dream. You know, I was planning on going to the studio today...however, I think spending time with you would be more interesting," Vil's lips curled into a smile as he crawled onto the bed towards you.

He took your face into his slim hands and stared into your eyes lovingly.

"What do you think, my love? Just you and me."

Vil's perfectly violet eyes held a red glint that had never been there before.

As Vil finished his vows, the water that had gathered in your eyes flooded over. The crowd of family members and friends quietly cooed at your display of emotion, blindly believing that your tears were from the immense love you held for Vil.

In a way, they were correct. Vil was your heart. Your soul. The making of your very being. The reason you woke up everyday with joy already a prevalent emotion.

This is no longer the case.

This is not Vil. This is not your fiance. This is not your future husband.

This is a fraud.

.

.

You put on your brightest smile soon after the waterworks slowed, and began to say your vows.

A week after that dreadful night and confusing morning, Vil proposed to you.

It was then that you finally tied everything together. The red glint in his eye, the times you would see him almost glitch in real time, and the moments you would catch a part of Vil's arm transfigure itself into the form of the mass all pointed to one thing.

Something was in Vil.

.

.

.

Despite connecting the dots, you never confronted him or tried to leave him. Realistically, it was illogical. You were putting your life in danger every second you chose to stay.

.

.

.

Regardless, what could you truly do? The mass taking the place of Vil meant that Vil was truly dead and gone. The grief of him being dead was something you couldn't handle, and if this mass was the closest thing you had to your love, you would stay.

.

.

.

Regardless of the sharp pain that fills your heart whenever you kiss this new Vil.

.

.

.

Regardless of the feeling that you are betraying your love.

.

.

.

Anything will do.

Authors Note: After 2 or so hours, it is finished. I apologize if the timing feels wrong, or if the words and actual story sounds amateurish. It has been a while since I have done any creative writing and I need to relearn how to tell a story.

Despite this, I hope you enjoyed it and as I said in the beginning, feel free to give me criticism.

You smiled slightly in victory.

That expression ruined the rest of his evening immediately.

Afterward, the nights began stacking together slowly enough that neither of you noticed the accumulation until it was already far too late to pretend otherwise.

Vil would arrive after filming or interviews or rehearsals and the worst part, Vil eventually decided, was how naturally your apartment learned him.

The place adapted around his existence slowly enough that he only noticed once the transformation had already rooted itself into every room.

His preferred tea appeared stocked in your cabinets without discussion. The couch permanently carried the faint scent of his perfume soaked into the fabric from too many exhausted late nights collapsed sideways against the cushions. Your bathroom mirror became crowded with expensive skincare products arranged in neat gleaming rows beside your chaotic collection of half-empty bottles.

Even the lighting changed.

You started leaving lamps on instead of overhead lights because Vil complained once that bright lighting after midnight made him like he was still under the spotlight and afterward your apartment remained permanently dipped in warm gold and shadow.

It made everything softer.

The edges of furniture blurred slightly at night. Steam from the shower drifted lazily through hallways glowing amber beneath low lighting. Reflections stretched across windows after rainstorms while synth-heavy playlists hummed endlessly somewhere in the background, all slow basslines and dreamy melodies that wrapped around conversations until the nights themselves started feeling suspended outside ordinary time.

Vil became addicted to that feeling almost immediately.

He arrived one evening long after midnight to find you sitting on the kitchen counter eating strawberries directly from the carton while staring blankly into space.

“You look haunted,” he informed you after stepping inside.

You blinked slowly.

“You ever get so tired your bones feel microwaved?”

“What a deeply upsetting sentence.”

You held a strawberry toward him without looking.

Vil accepted it automatically.

Everything between you had become automatic; especially touch.

At some point during the past few months, both of you had stopped noticing the constant small collisions drawing you together throughout every night. Knees pressed together beneath blankets. Fingers brushing absentmindedly during conversations. Your ankle hooked lazily over his foot while sitting beside each other on the couch.

Vil found himself reaching for you unconsciously now.

A hand against your waist while passing behind you in the kitchen. Fingers smoothing your damp hair away from your face after showers. His thumb tracing idle circles against your wrist while neither of you paid direct attention to it.

The intimacy accumulated slowly until the apartment itself felt thick with it.

One night the two of you ended up in the bathtub again sometime around three in the morning after Vil complained his muscles hurt from rehearsals.

Your building’s hot water system was criminally inconsistent, meaning the bath had already begun cooling by the time you climbed in beside him.

Steam fogged the mirrors completely. Music drifted softly from your phone speaker across the room, muffled slightly beneath the sound of water shifting around both of you.

Vil leaned back against the tub with his eyes closed while you traced meaningless patterns through condensation gathered along the tile wall beside his head.

“What are you drawing,” he murmured sleepily.

“Nothing.”

“I'm calling it, it'll be a cat.”

“It’s abstract.”

Vil opened one eye just enough to look at you.

Your hair is damp, strands sticking lazily against your neck ans forehead while warm light from the lamps painted gold across your skin. You look relaxed and that has softened your entire expression. You looked loose around the edges somehow, comfortable in a way Vil rarely allowed himself to become around other people.

Then your finger drifted downward absentmindedly through the fogged tile until you drew a tiny heart directly beside his shoulder.

You stared at it afterward as if surprised by your own hand.

Vil’s chest tightened painfully.

The silence afterward stretched warm and heavy.

“Your hair is falling out of the clip,” you mumbled eventually.

“You say that every time I attempt to relax.”

“Because every time you attempt to relax you start unraveling physically.”

“You make me sound defective.”

Then your head drifted sideways against his shoulder naturally enough that he doubted you even consciously chose to do it.

The movement nearly stopped his heart anyway.

There were moments now where the closeness between you became almost overwhelming in its density. Nights where the apartment felt too warm despite open windows. Too quiet despite music playing softly in the background. Too full of unspoken affection pressing invisibly against every room.

Vil had never experienced emotional intimacy this prolonged before.

Passion, yes. Attraction, endlessly. Admiration from afar practically followed him professionally.

But this?

This slow drowning sensation of becoming intertwined with another person piece by piece until even solitude started feeling incorrect? That was new.

The nights grew stranger after that.

Sometimes the two of you would fall asleep halfway through conversations without meaning to. Vil sprawled across your bed still wearing reading glasses while you rambled softly beside him about absolutely nothing. One moment he would still be listening to your voice through heavy exhaustion, and the next he’d wake hours later to find your face pressed sleepily into his chest while dim blue morning light leaked through the curtains.

Other times neither of you slept at all.

The city would stretch endlessly outside your windows while music looped quietly through the apartment and both of you drifted through rooms half awake, sharing fruit directly from the fridge at four in the morning or brushing teeth side by side while Vil lectured you.

“You use entirely too many products,” you informed him one night while leaning against the bathroom counter.

“You use entirely too few.”

“My skin survives.”

“Barely.”

“You looked at my face and said barely.”

“I say many truthful things.”

“You’re evil.”

“And yet you continue allowing me into your home.”

You stared at him through the mirror for several long seconds before dissolving into helpless laughter again.

Vil watched your reflection quietly while smoothing moisturizer across his skin.

Then slowly, without fully thinking about it, you wandered toward him and rested your forehead against his shoulder.

Vil immediately wrapped an arm around your waist.

Your sigh against him sounded so soft it almost disappeared beneath the music.

That sound haunted him for days afterward.

The closeness became greedy over time and then increasingly impossible to ignore.

Vil started lingering after kisses instead of pulling away immediately. He started touching your face absentmindedly during conversations. He was staring too long whenever sleepiness made your expression go soft around the edges.

And every single night ended the same way.

With Vil wanting one more hour.

One more song. One more conversation. One more moment stretched beneath dim apartment lighting while the outside world remained mercifully distant.

Because inside your apartment, surrounded by low music and warm shadows and the unbearable sweetness of your presence wrapped around every room, Vil sometimes felt frighteningly close to happiness so complete it bordered on unreality.

A fantasy.

One he increasingly feared waking from.