Gilbert skateboarded into Roderich's life the summer before high school without a helmet on. From the moment he met him, Roderich knew two things, thanks to the lack of safety precautions:
1. He was stupidly reckless
2. He was stupidly hot
What he didn't know was how much of a thorn in his side Gilbert would become – impossible to get rid of, impossible to ignore.
It was his first summer in town, his father having decided to sell their house and move on a whim because the walls reminded him too much of Roderich's mother. The unspoken knowledge between the two of them was that Roderich himself also reminded his father too much of his mother; he had gotten her vibrant violet eyes and dark hair as opposed to his father's blond-and-blue-eyed recessive-ness. He had also gotten her slim figure and long fingers, her talent for music, her lilting voice, her astigmatism.
They didn't need to say that it was painful for his father to look at him and that was why he kept taking clients farther and farther away, to the point where he was hardly home and his fourteen-year-old son was left to the quiet of an unlived-in house, the coldness of its tile floors in the morning, its echoing rooms making everything he played sound melancholy.
The town, the house, and the sudden disappearance of his mother were not the only new things. It would also be Roderich's first time attending public school. His father swore the reason was because he could not bear to have Roderich go to a boarding school, which would only have made sense of he was ever home.
Roderich thought, on the day when he saw Gilbert on that stupid skateboard while he was down the driveway collecting the mail, that his father might have guessed other reasons to keep him away from the all-boy boarding schools the men of his family traditionally went to.
Gilbert skidded to a halt in front of him, flipping the board up into one hand, and looked between Roderich and the house behind him with a wide-mouthed grin. "They said this place had sold. Didn't say there was a kid, though."
He stuck out his hand, grubby under the nails. "I'm Gilbert. Live down the hill. Since you've got no one else living up here, guess that makes us neighbors."
Roderich didn't take the hand to shake, more out of thoughtlessness and the fact that his arms were full of mail than intentional rudeness. "You should be wearing a helmet," he said, too focused on the danger of skateboarding around a hill sans helmet to register the introduction.
It was also unfortunate that Gilbert didn't have helmet hair to throw off his casually good-looking not-at-all-gawky face.
"That's a strange name," Gilbert said, shrugging and putting his hand down as if he wasn't at all bothered by the slight. "Pretty long, too. Must get exhausting for your parents to always be yelling it."
"What?" Roderich blinked rapidly, his lips curved down, as he processed the absurd statement. "That's ridiculous. My name is Roderich."
"As if that's any better." Gilbert rolled his eyes, leaning forward against Roderich's mailbox. He had an easy confidence about him, a sharp earnestness in his eyes, and an everlasting smirk about his mouth. Roderich had the jolting, uncomfortable realization that he was jealous of this ease – despite how talented he knew he was, he never had that pure confidence. "So, Roddy. You going to school around here?"
"Yes. Heritage High School." Roderich looked down at the mail he was carrying to distract himself. Advertisements, mostly. None of it for him, of course. No one sent someone his age mail.
He just kept hoping for something from his mother. Not that she would know where to find him.
Gilbert's eyes lit up, something that seemed impossible, as they had been quite bright already. "Awesome! You'll be seeing lots of me, then!" He grinned and Roderich, peeking out from over his Burger King coupons, realized that he had dimples. Damnit.
"Is it that small of a school?" Roderich was used to small schools, but had been hoping that this new one would be bigger. It was easier to blend in when there were lots of people. He was tired of sticking out. Just for a little bit, he thought it would be nice to be normal.
Laughing, Gilbert shook his head, dropping his skateboard back onto the ground and setting one foot on it. "No. I've just got a feeling."
He pushed off with the foot still on the ground, moving a little further away from Roderich, and gave a jaunty wave. "See you around, little rich boy."
Then he was gone, down the hill, moving far too fast to have a hope of controlling his descent. Roderich watched him go, frowning and chewing his lower lip. He, too, had a feeling.
This was how trouble started.