Vil had noticed it long before anyone else said anything.

The Prefect was still showing up to class, still helping everyone when they asked, still handling problem after problem with that same tired smile. But something was off.

Your attention always seemed somewhere else. Whenever someone raised their voice or looked upset, your eyes would immediately flick to their pen before relaxing. You startled easier than before. Some days it felt like you were physically present, but mentally a million miles away.

After everything that had happened—the overblots, the endless chaos, the constant responsibility—it wasn't exactly surprising.

The final straw had been finding you asleep in Trein's class.

Instead of waking you, Trein had allowed you to rest for the remainder of the lecture, and for once, Vil hadn't disagreed.

So after classes ended, he made his way to Ramshackle Dorm.

A basket rested against his hip, filled with various skincare products, tea, and a few other necessities he deemed appropriate. The dorm door creaked open, revealing you exactly where he'd expected to find you.

"Honestly, Prefect, you're a disaster." His tone was sharp, but his gaze softened slightly as it settled on you. "You look as though you're carrying the weight of the entire school on your shoulders. Fortunately for you, I've decided to intervene."

Vil stepped inside without waiting for permission.

"Tonight is self-care night. Face masks, proper food, and an actual conversation. And before you try to escape—" he fixed you with a knowing look, "—that's not a suggestion."