It was during summer break between his last year of elementary school and his first year of middle school that Roderich Edelstein first met an albino boy named Gilbert Beilschmidt.

Roderich never forgot exactly how they'd met. Gilbert, with an extended hand offered in acquaintance, wore plain and hole-riddled clothing when he'd approached and introduced himself as Gilbert. In that lighting, outdoors, his eyes appeared nearly red. Being more educated than most kids his age, Roderich knew that wasn't the case right off the bat; he was stricken by a sense of awe and wonder anyway.

Roderich had the manners to reluctantly shake his hand and introduce himself, despite the nagging feeling Gilbert didn't wash his hands much. He just got that kind of feeling from him. He not-so-subtly wiped his hand on his pants, as if it would somehow cleanse it of the potential filth, but Gilbert did not seem to take notice.

The albino boy had mocked Roderich's clothes and glasses; he dressed very nice for a boy his age, and he knew it. He tried, for the sake of his pride, not to let it bother him when children his own age gave him funny looks for wearing a button-up and slacks on the playground and not a t-shirt adorned with cartoon characters and shorts. For the most part, they ignored him- nobody wanted to make friends with the goody-two-shoes or the nerd. He was hoping this would change in middle school.

Still, it was odd to have such a scruffy looking boy mock him for dressing too nicely. Roderich scowled, and quashed the urge to tell him he looked undignified and childish; instead, he frowned at him and, turning red, walked away. He didn't have to play nice, but he didn't have to play either.

For the rest of the summer break, he rarely saw Gilbert. When he did, however, he was prone to being mocked. He couldn't tell how much of it was merely funny to him and how much of it was a genuine irritation with Roderich. He did his best to just ignore him, like his mother would've advised.

Things changed when he actually started middle school. Of course, they went to the same school; Roderich didn't think he'd actually have any classes with the boy, though. He was wrong. They shared the first class of the day, along with a history class and gym. Seeing each other more often meant they actually grew to know each other pretty well, even if they weren't really friends. They were something more like best acquaintances who don't really get along.

Gilbert made lots of friends; again, Roderich ended up the odd one out. No one wanted to eat lunch with him until Elizaveta came along.

Elizaveta was the pretty new girl, and it seemed that the moment she stepped into the classroom, Gilbert loathed her. Roderich couldn't fathom why; she seemed perfectly nice, and even a little pretty; he reasoned that Gilbert was just being Gilbert.

This somehow worked out perfectly for Roderich. Without having to lift a finger or say a word, he would make a new friend; when Gilbert took the time out of his incredibly busy schedule to pester him- which was always- new girl saw and new girl disapproved. She stood up for him, and insisted Roderich's glasses made him "look smart;" that his clothes were fine; that he was probably very nice if he'd take the time to get to know him better. Gilbert looked her up and down, snorted, and left.

"Fine, whatever!" he'd said, in that very not-quite-yelling but not-quite-an-inside-voice sort of way he always spoke.

Elizaveta proceeded to set her lunch tray down across from Roderich, and offered him a gentle, almost cautious, smile. He recognized the look; pity. For once, Roderich didn't really mind if he was being babied. He put up a front- because it was still offensive- but was secretly grateful for her intervention and potential friendship.

And so, the pair ate together every day. Even when Elizaveta's other friends urged her to eat with them, she would not go until Roderich assured her it was fine. She was a little overbearing, nearly condescending, but she really did mean well.

Rumors arose Elizaveta had a crush on him, which Roderich denied- and Elizaveta didn't. She didn't outright confirm them either, but to rest of the school it seemed pretty obvious. When Valentine's Day came around and she presented him with a large red card and a bag of chocolates, he was honestly surprised even still. He'd really seen her as more of a sister, and thought she felt the same.

He wasn't sure what to do. Roderich had felt his face burning when he churned out the pathetic and underwhelming response to his best, and only, friend's confession: "I'm sorry, Elizaveta."

They were only in middle school; he knew she would get over it. She had to. Still, the look on her face broke his heart. It was silly; she hadn't known him a year. Elizaveta looked like she was going to cry. Roderich really didn't know what he would've done if she'd started crying; he thanked his lucky stars when she didn't. Instead, she took a deep breath and said to him quietly, "It's okay, Roderich."

Things were awkward around each other for a time, until they weren't. It hadn't been long at all, and Roderich thought perhaps it had been a fluke- but he didn't really mind too much if it was.

What had begun to seem like a minor incident had sprouted other problems though; particularly a rumor that Roderich must be gay.

He was shocked at first; though he later thought he didn't know how those rumors didn't start sooner. He'd always been different from his peers; he dressed too formally, spoke too formally, and behaved too formally. He didn't run and play in elementary, and he didn't play any sports in middle. The only thing he played was piano, and so he'd already earned his reputation as a "nerd," "priss," and "girl." He took it all in stride when it became routine- but this was new.

When Roderich was asked "is it true?" he could've imploded- but he didn't. For once, he kept himself collected whilst on the spot. He hadn't really thought about it until that very moment, and- for whatever reason, he did not know- he blurted, "yes, it is. Now, leave me alone."

Maybe he wanted to do himself proud. The moment he was forced to consider the sentiment clearly, it clicked, and he didn't want to lie. Nobody would've believed him, anyway.

Elizaveta had been there, and he felt his cheeks burning, but he maintained eye contact as firmly as he could manage with his sudden wavering and trembling of nerves. It was as if adrenaline shot through his body, but all he could do was stand his ground.

The nosy girls left him be after he glared for a few too-long moments, and he shakily directed his eyes to his lap, as he could feel Elizaveta's burning into his profile. He almost thought she was going to hit him, but she didn't then, either. Roderich never stopped believing that she wanted to, though. Not because she disliked "gay" things and people, but because she didn't know. She'd brushed off the rumors, and Roderich never confirmed them. They were best friends, and perhaps she felt betrayed she found out like this.

But again, she didn't show it if she was upset. She gently took Roderich's hand in hers and gripped it, a gesture of support. He squeezed her hand in reply.

From there, Roderich regularly had books slapped out of his hands, spitballs spat at him, names called at him. Nothing inherently an act of physical violence- for once, Roderich wasn't scared. Not too scared, anyway. He did his best not to let it get to him. When he needed them, he had Elizaveta at school, and the piano at home to vent.

Eventually, the kids stopped picking on him as frequently, and things were almost just as before by the time he was in the 7th grade. One summer vacation was enough to nearly completely diminish the interest in his sudden reputation. He still didn't know who started the rumor though, and he supposed he never would.

Gilbert, on the other hand, remained somewhat as belligerent as ever, if not more so. It was as though his favorite television show had aired reruns for quite some time, and then, out of the blue, released a new, extra-hilarious episode. Gilbert had found the entire ordeal knee-slapping, and mocked him incessantly for it until Elizaveta insisted his material was getting tired and old, and that he needed a new shtick. Roderich would've rather not been mocked at all, but there was only so much he could hope for with Gilbert.

Roderich was surprised to find that Gilbert thought of Roderich as something of a friend. Well, more like his favorite toy, because friendships should be mutual, and it certainly was not that.

The one time things had nearly gotten violent for Roderich, Gilbert was there, and he would never forget that.

He had been walking home from school, nearing the end of the school year. It was sticky and humid and the air stunk of rain. Apparently, some of his peers were going the same way- perhaps some sort of sport activity had been canceled, and this was some sort of coincidence, as he hadn't seen them this way before- and thought it would be fun to pick on him. It was sort of an old joke, beaten to death, to pick on the gay kid. At the same time, it was almost as though he was an inside joke that the entire 7th grade student population was in on.

Roderich ignored them, like he always did now. He glared dead ahead, his eyes focused on his house. The white walls, the dark roof. The green lawn. It was very pristine, textbook-

and he was falling. And then, he landed in mud.

"Don't you ignore me!"

Roderich forced his gaze up to his fatter, but surely stronger, peer. He would've like to think he had the self control not to pick a fight with him, but he knew it was really because he was a coward. Or just "smart," as Elizaveta would put it.

As if he'd been born for this very moment, Gilbert came out of nowhere, and stood in front of Roderich, as if to shield him from the hulk of a 13-year-old with his own lean frame. For what was not the first time, Roderich wondered at Gilbert's slim musculature. He never really understood having the patience for exercise.

"Nobody picks on Roderich but me, you freaks! He's mine!" he nearly shouted at them, though that didn't feel like the right choice of words. He loudly projected his voice at them.

Something about the way he phrased it caused Roderich's face to redden out of anger, and embarrassment. Even when Gilbert was being "nice," he sucked.

"Hey, I'm- I'm not 'yours,'" he sputtered, but Gilbert paid him no mind. No doubt, in his mind he was the knight in shining armor swooping in just in time to save the princess.

The fat kid and his groupies appeared to be momentarily stunned, as if by some sort of obligation, before twisting their faces back into expressions of contempt; though, now their eyes held much less confidence.

"You wanna fight us, Gil? Since when did you turn into such a... a pussy?" he stuttered over the vulgarity as if it were the first time he had used such a term in his life. Still, his friends "ooh"'d in support. There is power in numbers, no matter how stupid some of those numbers are.

Roderich didn't realize he was still on the ground until he noticed he couldn't get a look at Gilbert's presumably priceless expression from his viewpoint. As much as he wanted to get out of the mud and get home, fear kept him rooted to the spot for a few more moments.

"Why, you... you! You're the pussy, p-pussy!"

That earned him some laughter from the other boys. Yeah, it was pretty weak. Roderich would've laughed along with the bullies if Gilbert wasn't the only boy on his side at that moment. Instead, he finally pushed himself off of the ground, and dusted off his pants in a futile effort to groom his now dirtied clothes. Though his legs felt like jelly, he found it necessary to speak now.

"Let's just go, Gilbert," he asserted, trying to appear as unfazed as possible. He reached for his wrist, but Gilbert snatched it away and whipped around to glare at him.

"What? No way! The awesome me never backs down from a challenge!"

Gilbert proceeded to have his ass handed to him trying to fight all of them at once, while Roderich watched. He had sort of looked like a knight, then. Whenever he was knocked down, he kept standing up like one of his silly anime characters in a showdown. He got in a few good hits, too, but in the end, one on three were not good odds. Roderich had tried to break up the fight at some point, which had mostly involved tugging on Gilbert's shirt and insisting they just go home; of course, he was having none of that.

So when his mother finally arrived on the scene, causing the boys to scatter, each running home, it seemed only fitting to allow for Gilbert to come to his own house for dinner. His mother had insisted he come back to their place to get patched up, anyway, since they were neighbors and he'd gotten pretty roughed up defending her son.

Roderich was surprised when Gilbert lied to her, too, about why the fight got started in the first place. He lied, and told her "Who knows. Those guys are always looking for a fight." Gilbert really could be surprisingly considerate, when he wanted to be, it seemed- or, he just didn't want any more trouble for the day, perhaps.

At home, Roderich insisted on helping Gilbert with dressing his wounds in his mother's stead, and she had smiled at her son and left them alone. At first, it was quiet aside from the sounds of Gilbert sucking in sharp breaths as Roderich rubbed alcohol into the worst of the wounds.

Finally, he had to ask. "Why did you do that?"

"Because," he said, and he looked almost ashamed. It was an out of place look on Gilbert's usually either scowling or beaming face. He didn't explain further, and only shrugged. I'm sorry.

Roderich got the message. "What, you can't even apologize to my face?" he snapped.

Gilbert worried his already bloody lip. He frowned. "Okay! I'm sorry."

"Like you mean it," he pressed. As if he would just let him off the hook with such a half-assed apology like that.

"I do, I do mean it! Just... say you forgive me, okay?"

"And why in the world would I do that?" he ground out. He wanted to tell him he was being an entitled jerk, but he didn't. He was too tired, suddenly.

"Well, I said I'm sorry!" he began, and before Roderich could argue that fantastic point, he continued. "I just want to be friends, pri-"

Roderich scowled.

"Uh, Roderich."

He then huffed at the boy sitting on his toilet, with white hair and bloody red knees and bloody red eyes. "Fine, I forgive you- but we're not friends. You have to earn it."

Gilbert's expression lightened, and he looked relieved. "You mean getting my ass kicked wasn't enough?"

He couldn't help but snort at that, a barely-suppressed laugh. "No, it's not, but just this once, I suppose getting your ass kicked is good enough."

"Sooo...?"

"We... we're friends. I suppose." Despite the hesitation, Gilbert fist pumped, and hissed a barely-audible 'yes!' under his breath.

"B-but, you're on thin ice. It's a... trial period. Okay?"

His smile didn't falter. "Okay!"