A/N ;; This was uploaded as a drabble on Tumblr for a challenge, but I like this one in particular, so it's getting uploaded here, as well.

The title was the first thing I thought of. Apologies.

Formally Inclined

Sometimes he wondered if he had made the right decisions.

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he found himself staring into the darkness, letting himself take a trip down memory lane. With his arms propped behind his head, he ignores the cold, empty space beside him, and lets his thoughts drift. From the time when they were children to long after they had finished university, he goes through every possibility, everyif he can think of, and wonders about what could have happened if he had done something different.

If he hadn't pushed Elizabeta into the mud the very first day they met, would they have even become friends at all? If he hadn't beat up the boy that was bullying her in second grade, would his first kiss have been with a different girl? If he had been able to keep a better eye on her, would Roderich even have had the chance to charm her in the first place?

If he had told her that he loved her, would it have been him standing in front of the alter?

Gilbert let out a low sigh, suppressing the urge to yawn. He had gotten little sleep over the past few nights, his constantly looping thoughts providing the role of the main catalyst. But he couldn't help himself. He couldn't help but hope that when he opened his eyes and looked to the side, she would be beside him, sleeping, or perhaps smiling at him with her bright eyes catching the light coming from the moon. He let the memories loop behind his eyelids, hoping and praying that he would be able to wake up from a kiss from her, despite that he knew it wouldn't – couldn't – be true.

The empty space on his bed had never felt colder.

Behind him, through the music and the voices of the other guests, he could hear Elizabeta's distinct laughter echoing in the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied them – Roderich and Elizabeta – pressed together as they spun around the room. She looked elated, her smile wide and her eyes lit up with glee. Under the bar counter, Gilbert's fist clenched painfully. He had never been able to bring that expression out of her, as hard as he had tried – it seemed that only Roderich could.

And he too seemed happy – Roderich, that is. Happy because he had married the love of his life. Happy because he had been given the chance to spend the rest of his life with her. Happy because he had been given the chance to wake up next to her every day, to kiss her, to have children, and to grow old together with her. He would be able to tell his wife that he loved her every single day, and Gilbert – her best friend and never anything more – would be forced to stand in the background, watching as his love spent her life with another man.

God, why had he even agreed to show up in the first place?

Oh, right, because Elizabeta had asked him personally.

And he couldn't say no to her.

He forced his eyes away from the happy newly-weds, focusing his gaze on the neck of his newest bottle of beer. He had been at the after party for approximately an hour, and he had already found himself halfway drunk. It was easier to deal with that way, he supposed. It dulled his thoughts, and if he tried hard enough, perhaps he could find something else that could take his attention away from Elizabeta for the evening. He didn't want to think about her tonight. Anything else would do, at this point.

And his wish did come true, though not exactly in the way he had expected.

His distraction came in the form of Feliciano nearly an hour later, the Italian sliding onto the bar stool next to him. He rested his elbow on the counter, propping his chin in his hand, waving off the bartender as he appeared. Feliciano simply looked at Gilbert for a long few moments, his lips quirked up at the side just the slightest bit, his eyes sympathetic. "I'm sorry," he said quietly after a couple silent minutes, regarding Gilbert with a careful sense of understanding. Gilbert had never told anyone of his feelings for the bride and his long-time best friend, but his little brother's Italian friend seemed to be well versed in matters such as this.

Gilbert decided to try to play dumb. "Sorry for what?"

He still couldn't understand why Elizabeta had chosen Roderich over him.

Even if she hadn't been aware that he felt something towards her in the first place.

Before he even realized what he was doing, he felt a smaller, softer hand close over his own. Feliciano gently rubbed his thumb over the top of Gilbert's hand, and slowly, he felt his grip on the top of the bar counter slowly begin to loosen. He hadn't even been aware that he had been holding on that hard, never mind that he had gripped it at all. "Someone will notice," Feliciano whispered, and as soon as he had loosened Gilbert's grip enough to grab, he intertwined their fingers, their shoulders brushing against each other just slightly as the Italian leaned closer to him. "You should try and look a little happy, Gil," he advised.

Gilbert snorted. "Yeah, I'll get right on that," he replied irritably, and upon seeing the slight frown that crossed Feliciano's face, he sighed. "Sorry," he muttered.

Normally, he would consider himself lucky to even get a minute of Feliciano's attention, what with Feliciano and his little brother being so focused on each other. Having even a moment alone with him was a rare occasion indeed. He was quite fond of the Italian, and under normal circumstances, Feliciano would be able to brighten his day with little effort, but not now. There wasn't anything that could cheer him up tonight, he thought, glancing down at his and Feliciano's linked hands.

Their hands contrasted. Feliciano's skin had a light, natural tan to it, and Gilbert's skin was as white as snow. It seemed a bit odd to have them joined together, intertwined at the fingers, but he couldn't deny that the Italian's hand fit quite nicely with his own.

"Have you danced with Eliza yet?" Feliciano asked after a while, interrupting Gilbert's observations of their hands.

He didn't have to answer – it seemed that his expression said it all. "Sorry," Feliciano muttered sheepishly, using his free hand to rub at the back of his neck. And Gilbert almost wanted to laugh – seeing an embarrassed Feliciano was not a common sight, and god was he ever cute, but he just couldn't bring himself to say anything.

He wanted to tell the Italian that he didn't have to stay with him, that he could back to Ludwig and his brother, wherever they were. He didn't have to hold his hand, and try to make conversation. He didn't have to sit so close to him, near enough that Gilbert could very clearly smell the cologne Feliciano was wearing, or attempt to comfort him in any way. He didn't have to be anywhere near him. He wanted to tell Feliciano to leave him alone, to go enjoy the party, and spend time with Elizabeta and Roderich before they went on their honeymoon, but the words couldn't get past his throat.

He didn't really want Feliciano to leave him, anyway.

Not really.

"Hey… Gil?" Feliciano spoke up, and Gilbert's gaze swung back towards him, away from the new bottle of beer that had just been placed in front of him. The Italian was staring at their hands, his eyes hidden behind his hair, the corners of his lips quirked.

"Yeah?"

"It'll be okay."

Feliciano squeezed his hand, and Gilbert followed his gaze, down to their hands.

They fit together perfectly.

Like a puzzle.

"Yeah, okay."

A/N ;; What is this?! I actually wrote something?! Blasphemy!

Disregarding my lack of activity, I was thinking of actually trying to expand this drabble into a full-fledged story. As mentioned, this was uploaded on Tumblr a few days ago, but I didn't really get an answer there, so I'll try uploading it here and see what happens. If the story was expanded, I would be able to develop the plot and the characters, and I personally think it would make a good read.

I've been dying to write PruIta since I started writing crack pairings, anyway, and I'd like the chance to write a full story centering around the pairing.

Thoughts?

Opinions?

Stay awesome, guys.