Chapter 1

Gilbert's eyes slowly fluttered open. The early afternoon light filtered through an unfamiliar pair of purple curtains. The albino held his aching head and looked around as he realised he could barely remember any of last night's events. He recalled going out for a few drinks with his two best friends and dancing with a few handsome guys, but after that, he was just drawing blanks. He must have gone home with someone, he thought. But then why was he lying on the couch? Well, no matter what happened, whoever owned this place seemed like the exact opposite of Gilbert's type. The house was fancy and looked as if somebody put more work into the decorating than they did into the cleaning. Golden-framed pictures hung on the pearly walls, and the couch Gilbert currently occupied was some kind of horrid purple and gold satin. This person tried way too hard to look rich for someone who left their underwear on the coffee table.

"You're finally awake," remarked a silky voice.

Gilbert winced at the sound. Why had he gotten so drunk? "Ja," he whispered in response.

"Really, now. I bet you don't even remember what happened last night."

Gilbert looked up at the voice. God, how could Gilbert ever score someone this gorgeous? Eyes like shining amethysts, framed by silver spectacles. Wavy chocolate hair styled beautifully, and a cute little mole underneath his taut pink lips. He had a dainty, curved frame, and quite the nipped waist. Gilbert wondered for a split second if the man was wearing a corset, but immediately dismissed the ridiculous thought. Nobody wore corsets nowadays, especially not men. Despite his natural beauty, this man was clearly trying overly hard to look good. His outfit looked like it took at least two hours to put on, with many layers of fancy coats and ruffled fabric. He wore a frilly cravat that was tucked into a purple waistcoat. Jesus, he looked like he was from the 18th century!

Gilbert blinked a few times in an effort to clear his blurred vision, and slowly sat up. "No, I don't. Do you?"

The man scoffed. "Of course I do. I couldn't forget it if I tried."

In a whisper, Gilbert replied, "What did I do?"

"It was three in the morning."

"That's when most good stories happen," Said Gilbert, regaining some of his natural snark as he woke up.

Rolling his eyes, Miss Priss (what Gilbert had decided to call this new man) continued. "I met you last night when I went outside to shut off a light that had been keeping me up. I noticed that there was someone over by my dog's house, and I went over to investigate. You were sitting there, drunkenly patting my dog. When I asked you what the hell you were doing, you slurred something about dogs being great."

Gilbert smiled warmly. "Dogs are great."

"I can tell you think so," Miss Priss said bitterly, eyebrows raised. "Anyway, after that, you threw up on my feet."

Gilbert held in a laugh. Of course, he hadn't gone home with anyone. That was just like him. Meeting a beautiful man by wandering into his backyard to pet a dog, before puking on his feet. He never did meet anyone in a normal way, like his friends did.

"I brought you inside, since you certainly couldn't make it anywhere safely. You passed out on my couch ten minutes later after continuing to praise my dog and asking me why he wasn't inside."

"Yeah, why would you keep a dog outside?"

Miss Priss groaned. "He'll ruin the furniture!"

"You have a dog to love, why choose nice furniture over cuddling a puppy?"

The other man heaved a heavy sigh, ignoring Gilbert. "What is your name, anyway? And why on earth would you be patting a dog in a stranger's backyard in the middle of the night?"

Gilbert grinned sheepishly. "The answer to you second question is: I love dogs more than anything else in the world, I was drunk, and I can never seem to meet anyone in a normal situation."

"Ah."

"The answer to your first question is Gilbert Beilschmidt. My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt."

Miss Priss nodded. "Gilbert. I would say nice to meet you, but in this circumstance, it isn't really that nice."

"You don't need those kinds of pleasantries with me, Miss Priss. Now, sit down." Gilbert smiled.

"What did you just call me?!" Uh-oh. Miss Priss was angry.

"Well, what am I supposed to call you? You haven't told me your name yet, and you seem prissy, that's all!" Gilbert responded. "Also, please try to be quiet. My head hurts."

Priss sighed. "Okay, sorry for the loudness. My name is Roderich Edelstein, and I am just trying to keep an ounce of class in this disgusting world."

"You look like you're from the 1700s, Roddy."

"No nicknames, please."

"Okay. Come sit down, Roddy! What, do you think I have lice or something?"

Another angry sigh. Geez, touchy.

"Lice, no. Fleas, maybe."

"What?! Then why did you let me on your couch?"

"I wasn't thinking straight, apparently. After all, it was three in the morning."

"Well, thank you again. You're too kind." Gilbert smiled sincerely.

Roderich scoffed, but this time, he had a tad of a smile on his face. "You're quite the interesting fellow. Now, if you're well enough to stand, please leave. I have work to do."

Gilbert raised his eyebrows, slightly surprised. He really thought they could have gotten to be good friends. "Really?"

"Yes, Beilschmidt. I have music to compose."

A musician? Now, Gilbert was more interested. "Reeaaaally?" He said, a slightly perverted tone to his voice.

Roderich blushed slightly and gasped. "Yes, really. Now leave."

"Fine, Fine," Said Gilbert, resigned. He stood up and walked towards the back door. "I'll go back from whence I came." He winked at Roderich as he opened the door. "I hope we meet again, Miss Priss."

To be continued!

Hello, everybody! I really hope you like it! I'll try my hardest to finish this one, and I shouldn't really have to try too hard, since it is very fun for me to write. Also, the story might be changed to rating M later, probably for some violence and/or the Bad Touch Trio in general. :)

Ja: Yes