A/N: I've had this idea bouncing around my head for the last week or so and I felt like writing something new this evening, so I figured, what the hell, I'll write this , enjoy.
PS: Reviews, esp conscrit, are much appreciated.


Golden light streamed from between the soft pink blossoms of the cherry trees lining both sides of the avenue. Magnificent limestone-and-marble buildings sat at the far end, blue-uniform-clad teenagers streaming out of its many doors with relieved expressions and full backpacks. It was late afternoon, and the air was calm and peaceful, save for the three conflicting students walking down the flagstoned avenue out of the school.

"Aw, c'mon, Fran, you have to help the awesome me. Otherwise you'll be on the losing team." The silver-haired teenager scowled at his friend, sunlight glinting off his ruby-red eyes.

Francis shook his head. "I told you, Gilbert, this isn't a popularity contest, as you are under the delusion of such. This is serious politics. Arthur will kick your so-called awesome behind in the elections. He has won both years previously, and I see no reason why you are better than him this year."

"Fuck you," Gilbert retorted in annoyance. "I can beat that idiot any day of the week. Everyone knows I'm so much more awesome." He scowled again and glared.

Antonio laughed tautly. "Gil, I support your campaign, but don't expect to sway Francis. He may hate Arthur, but he was one of his staunchest supporters last year and I doubt he's going to change."

"He's only supporting the tea-sucker to try get some, despite the fact that the guy's blatantly got eyes for that American bastard," Gilbert pouted. "Give it up."

"That's rich, coming from someone who can't even get a girlfriend," Francis mocked.

Gilbert's hands curled into fists, but Antonio stepped in and intervened before his friends could start fighting. Again. "Ok, ok, time out, you guys. Let's just agree to disagree before someone ends up at the bottom of the lake again." Hands outstretched between the pair, his tone was light, but his eyes held a note of caution. He didn't completely expect the two to back down.

Gilbert huffed in response. "Whatever." Francis sighed, but didn't say anything, just flicked back his blond hair and looked away.

Antonio dropped his hands and inwardly drew a relieved sigh. It was never a good thing when Gilbert and Francis fought. It didn't happen all that much, but with the upcoming student council elections rearing ever closer, Antonio found himself playing peacemaker all the more often, and it was honestly quite stressful. He didn't want his two best friends to become enemies over such a trivial matter.

The trio continued along the boulevard in silence, the seven-foot-tall iron gates of the school grounds looming open in front of them. Several passed them, often with friendly glances, but the tense air over the three was thick and obvious enough for even the densest of types to stay away. Antonio wished there was something he could say to break the awkward silence, but was afraid of sparking off another treacherous argument.

They passed through the gates and turned up the street to head home. The street was packed with nose-to-tail traffic as usual, as both the schools nearby had just let out. Groups thronged outside the gates and nearby, chattering happily.

The silence was still suffocating, and Antonio was just about to say something, anything, to break it, when Gilbert suddenly stopped.

Antonio paused, frowning slightly. "Where're you going, Gil? Your house is this way."

Gilbert gestured towards a dark blue car parked nearby. "West's not meeting Feli today, so I'm gonna hitch a lift with him. Can't be arsed to walk all the way home if there's a chance I can get a ride. Tschüss, Toni." He walked across to the pavement's edge and jumped athletically onto the car's roof, his messenger bag banging against the windows on his way up.

Antonio sighed as the two walked on. "Lud's not gonna like that. He thinks Gilbert's irresponsible enough as it is."

"You can't deny that he is, though," Francis replied evenly, still wearing the cold expression he'd donned during their argument.

"Can't you guys just stop fighting already?" Antonio asked, running tanned fingers through his unruly brown hair. It was nearly getting too much now. He'd already noticed Gilbert's reluctance to acknowledge Francis during their goodbye a few minutes ago.

"Don't preach at me, Antonio. You hate Arthur as well; you'd be rejoicing if he lost and you know it." Francis was obviously in a bad mood beyond Gilbert's actions, he didn't usually snap at people. Well, except Arthur and Alfred, but they were special cases.

"Fran-" Antonio began, reaching out a hand.

"Forget it," Francis sighed. "I'm going home and taking a long, hot bath, then curl up with a glass of wine and a good book to see if I can forget those idiots. I'll see you tomorrow." Before Antonio could respond, he turned smartly on one heel and stalked up off the street, pausing only to blow a kiss at a passing dark-haired Italian in the year below, who responded with profane language and obscene gestures.

Antonio turned back and kept walking back to his house by himself. This situation really was getting worse. Francis's pride and Gilbert's stubbornness really didn't help. Antonio didn't see why they had to deliberately provoke each other into conflict. His head was beginning to hurt trying to come up with solutions that'd satisfy everyone. And if they did start hating each other, what then? They were a trio, meaning that if they split into two, someone was left on their own. Who should Antonio side with, and should he even side with anyone? It wouldn't be fair to either of them; Antonio liked and respected both his friends equally, he didn't want to shoulder one out and have them hate him. He shook his head in despair and started to cross the road.

Why doesn't anyone look at things rationally anymore? Frankly, I'll be relieved when this whole election thing's over for good. No wait, even then the winner'll be lording it over the loser. It'll almost be worse–

The sharp blast of a horn jerked him out of his thoughts and he looked up.

A large red truck was bearing down on him, less than twenty feet away and closing fast. He could see the driver's terrified moustached face in the dusty cab, sense the heat of the engine, feel the buffet of wild air currents blow up by the leviathan's unstoppable motion. His feet felt glued to the road as a wave of pure terror hit him. Antonio closed his eyes and waited for the inevitable.

Something slammed into his side and he hit the tarmac hard. Stars turned his vision into a kaleidoscope and all thoughts were banished from his head by pain. Muffled screams assaulted his ears, but no words were distinct and it all sounded so very far away. and he gave up and let the blackness take him.