Introduction
Gilbert Beilschmidt wasn't too sure why he wanted to make a blog. Like everyone else he had a Facebook account - a MySpace too when it was popular - but had quickly moved on to Twitter. He didn't understand Instagram, some people made fun of it and those who used it were just stuck up hipsters. Some of the kids on his course at college had LiveJournal and Deviantart and an other one he couldn't remember but only Antonio had bothered to make a Tumblr. Even then it was rarely used, just some bad pictures no one re-blogged.
So why on earth was he going to make one? He had no interest in the creative part of the Internet, he had just clicked on a link by mistake and found himself searching through endless amounts of pictures, art, journal entries, comics and tons of other amazing shit and suddenly he felt compelled to be apart of this insanely wonderful world of artist and writers and vloggers and bloggers and photographers. But when he clicked on the little 'Sign Up' icon, after the page loaded, three little white boxes below the logo asking for an email, a password and a username.
Well fuck.
This suddenly had him stumped but he never thought of going back to he last page or closing the window. Instead he stared at his computer screen trying to think of the most awesome Tumblr name that may of ever existed.
Gilbert Beilschmidt.
Gilbert.
G-Beilschmidt.
Beilschmidt Is Awesome.
I'm Awesome.
Defiantly not the last one. He shouldn't have to tell people this, they should know it from one look at him and his soon to be made blog.
The boy pondered over the matter for several more minuets before he decided on how stupid the matter was. What would he even blog about?
His photography maybe, or drawings. But there was an awful lot of those sort of blogs about. He didn't have many other skills. Gilbert was just Gilbert, he was awesome. He wasn't witty or creative, he didn't have many interesting views on things on the world, he found those outrageous theories on the governments 'secrets' to be stupid and he didn't have patience nor the enthusiasm to make anything informative or useful. He could maybe do a blog on his daily life, what and when and why, but those things were only worth a read if you were famous or actually had a life worth reading about. No, Gilbert Beilschmidt wouldn't make a blog not today. Maybe not even any other day.
He clicked on the X icon on the top right and closed the tab. It disappeared and took him to the page he had opened beneath which was his Facebook. Still opened on Chat with Antonio about some weekend plans and then nothing of interest on his timeline. Life seemed pretty empty despite Tino Väinämöinen changing his relationship status from 'in a relationship' to 'it's complicated' and this apparently had Feliks Łukasiewicz 'totes amazed'. But that wasn't anything new. Feliks was 'totes amazed' about almost anything.
There was also a cola ad, one of those shitty things with a picture of dying cats or some other unfortunate thing compelling you to 'like' or 'share' the image and if you kept scrolling you were indeed a heartless twat. Then some random post about concerts, a couple of people had changed their status to something that no one would ever be interested in hearing and Im Yong Soo uploaded another album.
Emil Steilsson had added Lukas Bondevik as his brother, Matthias Køhler and five others liked this.
Elizabeta Héderváry was in a relationship, Gilbert scrolled back over the little blue box, expecting to have read it wrong, but no. As clear as day, in little letters Elizabeta Héderváry and Roderich Edelstein were now in a relationship. Although he hadn't spoken to Elizabeta in years he still wondered why he hadn't heard of this sooner. At least not since the start of Year 11. The two had once been best friends, but high school changes people. He got involved in football - not that he was any good - and after some time Elizabeta became to much of a girl for his liking. When he first said that to her she hadn't reacted to well, beat him in the face with her rucksack and ran off home. They didn't speak for a few weeks after. Gilbert hung about with the lads on the team and Elizabeta found girl friends.
But never once in his life had Gilbert Beilschimdt ever imagined that she would go out with Roderich Edelstein. That just didn't add up, not at all.
"Shit..." Gilbert whispered as went to click onto her profile. His movements stilled as someone banged on his doors and called his name.
"Gilbert!"
"Fuck off!" He replied.
"Gilbert!"
"What?"
"I've been shouting you for a full twenty minuets, dinner is ready."
Dinner in the Beilschmidt home was always awkward. It consisted of silence, cold stares and several judgmental glances - most of them sent Gilbert's way. Not much chit-chat, a clatter of forks and knives scrapping against the crockery and such not much else. But then you wouldn't expect much from Gilbert, his younger brother and their father.
Gilbert looked up from his soup and glanced at his brother. Ludwig was frowning at his soup, not one of disgust but a frown in general. Noticing his brother stares, Ludwig glared at him. "What?"
"Nothing."
And then silence.
Then, Ludwig spoke up. "Can I stay out tonight?"
Their father looked up, thin blue eyes boring into his youngest son. "Where?"
Ludwig shrugged. "Just out. I'm going to see some friends."
"The little faggot ones?" Gilbert spoke up. An ugly smirk on his face at his brothers discomfort.
Ludwig struggled for a comeback. "They're not," He stuttered, "Feliciano Vargas and Kiku Honda are."
"Puffs?" Gilbert cut him off. The same smirk still plastered on his features. "I heard the little chink had a one night stand with Heracles Karpusi."
The father looked up from his plate, "Gilbert don't use those words." he scolded his son.
"What words?"
"You know exactly what words I mean."
"Do I?"
"Kiku Honda is Japanese, 'chink' is Chinese." Ludwig tried to defend. He hadn't yet denied the sexuality of his two friends.
"Same thing."
"No, they're really not and how do you know he had a one night stand?"
"Sadık Adnan. Guys been talking shit 'bout Heracles for months but some of it's actually true. Specially that shit on him and the chink." Gilbert let his smirk drop a little and took a sip of his drink. "And you can't deny that Feli boy is at least bent."
"Gilbert shut up." Ludwig was starting to get annoyed with his brothers comments, showing this annoyance was probably a bad thing, it only spurred Gilbert on.
"Why should I? Not saying anything hurtful."
"Just because your a homophobe doesn't mean everyone else should go out of their way to fit your needs."
"Woah, Woah, Woah, what gave you that idea?" The eldest brother said. Gilbert glared at the younger boy, the smirk gone completely. "I'll have you know some of my best friends are gay."
"Like who?"
This had Gilbert a little stumped."Francis!" he said at long last. "Francis is gay, or bi or some shit"
"Francis sleeps with anything with a pulse. Probably things without one too." Well, that was true.
"Well... Feliks, the little crossdresser at my college has to be gay, that Scandinavian lad and Lovino Vargas. Totally gay."
"Vargas?" Gilbert's father said. He looked up from his dinner. Very much used to his sons petty disagreements at the dinner table, he sat quietly and ate his dinner waiting for one - or both - to tire of the other and leave the room and him in peace. If he had the patience and effort he may have tried to break this one up, especially given the subject but this new piece of information distracted him for a second. "Feliciano's brother?"
"Yeah, he's about as straight as a circle." Gilbert leant back in his chair and carefully balanced on one leg. He quite enjoyed knowing something that no one else knew.
However Ludwig had had just about enough of this conversation. He dropped his soup spoon into the bowl with a clatter. "Lovino Vargas is not gay, neither is Feliciano. Their family are very proud Catholics."
"Well, Lovino did some very un-Catholic things with Antonio last week. Antonio, another fag and he's my friend! See I'm not homophobic and it's not like I'm offending anyone."
Ludwig didn't stay to clear away his bowl. Or even the end of Gilbert's sentence. Instead he stormed of upstairs, presumable to get ready to go out.
"Are you not going to finish your soup?" His father called after him. A little concerned for his youngest sons behaviour.
"No."
Gilbert kept his balance, folding his arms across his chest and teasing this new balance by pushing lightly against the table legs to rock a little on the spot. If had any sense he would probably of noticed his brothers actions and said something along the lines of sorry. But he didn't and he had other things on his mind.
Stuff that probably would another his dad to no end but he would say it all the same. "Did you know, Elizabeta has a boyfriend?"
"No I didn't."
Gilbert ran his hand through his hair, pale skin gliding through pale strands. "Roderich Edelstein too. I mean... Something went wrong there. Liz and Roderich? She used to hate him. Like really hate him and now, apparently they're going out. It's like jamming together two pieces of a puzzle you couldn't find the right matches for, they really don't go together."
"Love works in mysterious ways Gilbert. I didn't think you still spoke to Elizabeta."
"I don't, I just..." Gilbert never finished his sentence. Instead he lowered his body and chair to the floor then stood up to take his leave.
"Are you not going to finish your soup?"
"'M not hungry."
Gilbert whistled, three quiet but sharp notes, and the little yellow bird tweeted back. His reply not exactly matching Gilbert's but instead three other sounds. If Gilbert could speak bird and could actually understand what his little whistle meant to Gilbird - his very appropriately named chick - then maybe he try to say something smart. Maybe what he whistled just now was actually a threat or insult and Gilbird's reply was simply bird slang for 'Fuck off' or 'Dick head'. He hoped he hadn't offended the chick. Maybe he shouldn't whistle to Gilbird, to avoid insult, or maybe he just just avoid over thinking these things because it was quite absurd to think about bird insults, if birds even had insults.
He reached a hand into the cage, running a pale finger along the fluffy yellow chicks wing and tapping his thumb gently on the top of his head. Tweet tweet, the little bird said. Tweet tweet.
Gilbert grinned and Gilbird chirped, something that Gilbert assumed was the equivalent to a smile. He reached his hand into the little plastic tub and scatter the bird seed onto the floor of the cage. Gilbird tweeted again and ran over to his dinner. Pecking at the crumbs.
There wasn't much to do. Ludwig had gone out to see his friends, even if hadn't he still seemed a little pissed off at him, and their father had gone to bed early. In this house everyone did things day by day. The same actions with the same results. Wake up, go to school or college or work, cone home, have dinner, storm up to bed and sleep. The only one who broke that chain was Ludwig and his friends, or sometimes Antonio and Francis would drag him out drinking. Something he would instantly regret the next day.
But tonight wasn't one of those days. Tonight was one of those nights when Gilbert would stay up most of the night, watching films on Netflix or watching his inbox. Desperately pleading for someone to send him a message because despite his pure awesomeness it was awfully rare for him to receive an email from anyone and when they did... It kept him occupied.
He stood up, pushing off of his knees and standing in his room. His laptop was still on. Opened on Elizabeta Héderváry's Facebook profile, where, since the last time he had checked, many other had 'liked' and 'commented' on the couples status.
Unsurprisingly this also had Feliks Łukasiewicz 'totes amazed'. Only this time with a couple of X's and a smily face.
He navigated away from the page and back to the news feed. Not really news. Just some off comments about the weather, football matches and status updates from people that he honestly never gave a shit about. As he scrolled through he noticed Antonio Fernandez Carriedo posting another link to his Tumblr account. Lovino Vargas was tagged and some words in Spanish were written above the link.
Gilbert clicked the link. It took him to Antonio's account and picture he had taken of him and Vargas brothers sitting somewhere. The three boys, sitting with sun kissed skin and bright smiles - not Lovino, he was glaring - and Gilbert saw the little blue words at the too of the page again. Sign Up.
Like a command, and Gilbert followed. After the page loaded, three little white boxes below the logo asking for an email, a password and a username.
So he began typing. Not to sure why or what he was going to with a Tumblr.