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Vil actually enjoys his daily skincare routine. All that work would seem like such a hassle to some people, however he typically looks forward to it.

Although today feels different. Nothing special is happening, nor is there something for him to be worried about, but he feels off nonetheless. There's a small ache brewing in his chest; it's upsetting, but not overbearing, at least not yet.

He settles to finally use the record player his father gifted him on his last birthday, and listens to a simple classical music record to try to push away the thoughts of something being awry.

His concerns turn out to not have been for naught when you slam open the door of his room. Before he can chastise you for flinging the door closed, he sees your face, and how you look absolutely devastated. So instead of being angry he gets up promptly.

As he strides across the room towards you, you slowly slink to the floor and start wailing. He is rightfully stressed right away, and of course hurries to you. When he reaches you he can't help but to ask anxiously, "Dear? What's wrong?".

You answer with additional, even louder, wailing. So he determines to hug you properly, even going to the lengths of wrapping you in his robe with him as you babble about something he can't quite make out.

"My love please tell me what's wrong," he looks into your eyes as he gently pleads for your answer.

You prattle on, as he only understands a few of your words. Nails......failed............sorry..?

"Darling, just breathe with me okay? In and out." He holds you gently on the cold wooden flooring as he tries to get you to calm down enough to help him understand.

After a few minutes of breathing with him you finally mellow out enough to speak.

"I bit my nails all the way down to the finger again! I was doing so well! I'm so tired Vil, I just want to have pretty nails!" You sob into his chest. He finally understands your panic and upset, and knows just the thing to make you feel better.

"Sweetheart, it's alright. Your nails will grow back, that's a guarantee. How about I give you a manicure? It might take your mind off of your 'failure' and make you feel good," He takes your hands and assesses the damage before rising to his feet and offering his palm to assist you with standing as well, "I hate to see you so unhappy."

As he leads you to settle on the foot of his very cushioned bed, his love and care for you is painfully obvious. He holds your hand so gently as he urges you to sit fully on the mattress.

He takes your nails into his hands and he begins to apply oils and creams, ones with names you can't even pronounce, to aid in the healing of the exceptionally damaged areas. There's absolutely no judgement in his eyes as he takes care of you, he truly wants to make you feel better.

He gives you the whole nine yards, he cuts back your cuticles, cleans the nail beds, polishes them, and gives you a tender hand massage afterwards.

"There, Darling does that feel better?" When you nod, he leans forward to capture your lips in a delicate kiss, "Good. I'm glad I could be of help. The polish I put on those should help you to not bite them for a while, and if it doesn't, I will keep an eye on you. I will even tell you when you are doing it, I know you tend to do it unconsciously."