Gilbert sauntered down the hallway of the crowded school, his uniform shirt untucked and his zip-up hoodie hanging off of his shoulder. He flung his messenger bag over his shoulder and grinned at the passing students, high fiving a few of them as he passed.
The World Academy. That's what the prestigious high school was known as. No one ever found the need to specify exactly which one they were talking about because it was so well known. The World Academy was the most honored culturally diverse school to have ever been established. Only the best of the best were allowed in and usually only one student was chosen from an entire nation. Usually.
Gilbert Beildschmidt was one of the very few exceptions. Gilbert's younger brother, Ludwig, was a very talented young man. He was very athletic, very tall and wide and all muscle. He was very intelligent and excelled in every subject. And on top of all, in addition to all his talents, Ludwig was also very handsome; his golden blond hair always slicked back, his bright blue eyes always shining, his skin light but not too pale, and his deep voice flowing beautifully with every word. The World Academy had been watching him since age ten, and they knew that they wanted him to attend their school. Gilbert was the exact opposite. He had few talents, wasn't nearly as tall as his brother, and wasn't exactly "handsome". With his paper white skin, silver hair, scratchy voice, and red eyes he was the last thing the World Academy wanted in their school. Gilbert was finally accepted into the school—only after Ludwig refused to attend once he was of age unless his brother was allowed to as well.
There was something special about Gilbert however: his massive ego. Gazing in the mirror, Gilbert thought he was fucking gorgeous, uber intelligent and, in general, the best human to boastfully walk the planet.
Looking up from another casual fist bump with a fellow student, Gilbert stopped dead in his tracks. His cherry red eyes met a striking pair of royal purple ones. Gilbert's breath hitched and he literally could not tear his eyes away. He just stood still in the middle of the hallway, the random bustle of students not even noticing him. The owner of said eyes however, couldn't have noticed more. After their brief contact, the owner of the purple irises didn't register Gilbert's admiration.
Roderich Edelstein aka Mr. Perfect Piano face aka Student Council vice president aka the love of Gilbert Beildschmidt's life. Ever since they had met their freshman year, he knew that, all bullshit aside, this was the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
However, they rarely spoke and there were plenty of reasons. One: that Gilbert couldn't be within a five foot radius of Roderich without breaking out into a cold sweat, his heart speeding to an unhealthy pace, or his legs turning to jelly. Another reason was that the student body vice president could never be seen with such a misfit. Gilbert was one of the most misbehaved students throughout the entire school and if the vice president were to be seen doing anything other than scolding Gilbert, his respect would be lost. And last but not least, it was nearly impossible to tear Roderich away from his flawless girlfriend Elizaveta Héderváry. Elizaveta was a very sweet, intelligent, and beautiful young woman. She was friends with virtually everyone in the entire school. Everyone that is, except for Gilbert. Gilbert was convinced it was pure jealousy of his "awesomeness," and he never failed to remind Elizaveta of her inferiority purely to make her upset. But, no matter what, the argument always ended with Gilbert sulking away, rubbing his brand new bruise. He resented Elizaveta and the satisfied smirk plastered on her porcelain face as he retreated.
Suddenly, Gilbert was slammed up against the lockers. His back crashed against the cold metal doors and he was knocked out of his trance. Gilbert's eyes snapped wide open to stare in bewilderment at the two other redundant standing in front of him.
"How long have you been standing here? People were bumping you and you didn't even notice!" The exceptionally handsome young man said, his heavy French accent rolling off of his tongue like silk.
"Yeah! Lovino bumped right into you and even called you a few names and you didn't budge!" the Spaniard said, raising an eyebrow. He bounced happily next to the French student.
"Oh… I'm sorry, you guys. I didn't realize…" Gilbert slowly trailed off trying to remember what had happened.
"It's fine, don't sweat it. Me and Francis have been looking all over the place for you! You said you would skip fourth block with us today, remember?" Antonio chirped in his Spanish lilt, his green eyes glistening as leaned forward to grab the front of Gilbert's shirt.
"No need for force, he doesn't have to come if he doesn't want to." Francis muttered, reaching a hand up to cover the Spaniard's and prying it away from Gilbert's shirt.
"Uh, no it's fine. I'm coming, sorry I forgot!" Gilbert said with a grin, tugging on the strap of his messenger bag. He took a step toward his pair of friends just as the bell rang. They quickly crammed themselves into the nearest janitor's closet for cover.
Francis Bonnefoy and Antonio Fernandez had been Gilbert's partners in crime ever since they had all met by hiding in the same bathroom stall trying to avoid the student body president. With a discussion of their mutual hatred of authority and six illegal beverages later, the three of them were best friends. Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis had silently decided never to betray one another if they were to get caught doing something stupid. They'd also agreed to never let petty relationships interfere with their bond.
Of course, that wasn't saying that the three of them couldn't have relationships. Well, not that any of them actually had ever had a legitimate relationship. Francis had relations frequently, and Antonio followed Lovino around everywhere he went, but none of them had actually ever been in a lasting relationship.
After waiting for the students to drain from the hallway, Gilbert and his friends escaped the janitor's closet and sprinted through the school—Gilbert's incoherent singing the "Mission Impossible" theme, decreasing their stealth significantly—and exited through the back door of the school. The three of them snuck through the small park in between the school building and the dorms, adding unnecessary tucks and rolls along the way.
Finally, they stepped into Francis and Antonio's dorm. The three all flopped down in random seats and simultaneously let out a tired groan. Various objects ranging from churros to flags to dirty underwearwere scattered throughout the space, as to be expected from two teenage roommates and their not-technically roommate but is-always-here-anyway-so-it-doesn't-matter friend.
Gilbert stood and walked to the pantry, pulling out a candy bar and shoving it in his mouth. He collapsed onto the bed without saying a word to the other's and tried like hell to get those stupid perfect purple eyes out of his head.
