This is a companion/ prequel sort of thing to my other piece, "Mixed," though you don't have to read it to understand the story.

Warning: underage drinking, foul language, google translate. Good luck.

Admittedly, painting a rainbow flag onto his graduation cap wasn't the best way to come out as gay.

Especially since all of his family members were strict Catholics.

Not to mention his great, great abuelita, who had been around since the Spanish inquisition, would be attending the ceremony.

It didn't help that nobody was quite as far in the closet as Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, and therefore the announcement was just as shocking as the fact that Gilbert Beilschmidt had made high honors.

He could probably blame said man for his current predicament if he really wanted to. It was his idea more or less.

No, that wasn't a fair assumption. In reality Gilbert had only ignited a fire in him, one that made him willing to try anything, to back talk anyone, to say whatever he felt like saying.

To an extent of course.

So when the night before graduation arrived, Antonio thought to himself: why not? His secret would be figured out eventually, so why not drive to the store at midnight and pick up some paints, and why not stay up late putting a rainbow onto his graduation cap? What was the worst that could happen?

This, he thought as his mother threw her prized clay vase at the wall, making everyone in the room jump as it shattered and fell to the floor, this was the worst that could happen.

To be fair, it had been a long while since his family had had a discussion about homosexuality. The religious topics were usually saved for Sunday dinners, where they would discuss a bible verse, say grace, and then eat. As he grew up the tradition relaxed, and instead of a harsh, cookie cutter lesson about sainthood, they would simply read a Psalm or sing a hymn. The steady decline of religion in his home had nearly convinced him that his sexuality wouldn't be a problem for his family.

He was mistaken.

Antonio tried to hold back his tears as his mother went off on him, yelling about her boy- her little Toni, where did she go wrong? Sure she allowed him to skip his cousin's first communion the other week, but it was his second cousin after all, whose mother had yet to return her favorite cooking pot, so with that in mind she'd been a good mother. How in the world had he ended up like this?

He wondered whether or not he should have been thankful that his father didn't say a word, opting to instead stare blankly out the window. He was glad that his parents had pulled him into a private room to have this discussion, if his mother was able to team up with her sisters in the dining room, nothing could stop her.

"I just don't get it!" she said, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. "I didn't raise mijito to be a fag!"

At this Antonio shrank back. Even if his mother was angry, he'd never expect her to use such rhetoric on him.

"It's not like I can help it." he said, finally fighting back against her cruel words. "I didn't choose to be this way, mama."

"But don't you see Toni? You can choose not to be this way- through God all things are possible-"

"Bullshit!" it was his turn to yell, and the act itself was incredibly satisfying. "If God didn't want me like this, he wouldn't have made me like this."

His mother shook her head vigorously. "He has a plan mijito, this is only a test."

"Then I've already failed it." He said, and in his moment of anger he summoned the strength to break the crucifix from the chain on his neck and throw it to the ground. "I'm going to hell."

She stood stock still for a moment, her green eyes wide as they followed the crucifix to where it landed on the tiled floor. A few moments of silence passed where she simply stared at it, her face morphed with shock, and then she looked up, tears in her eyes.

"You need to leave, Antonio."

He blinked. What did she mean?

"You have ten minutes to gather your things."

Antonio gulped, no longer able to hold back the tears that were now flowing freely. "Mama…"

"I will call the police." She threatened, not meeting his gaze. "You need to go."

That's the story of how Antonio ended up in his current predicament, standing at Francis's doorstep with a suitcase in hand, trying with all of his might to stifle his sobs. He couldn't remember the last time he'd cried this hard.

"I know we talked about going out for milkshakes, but don't you think it's a little early-" The Frenchman stopped halfway through his sentence, and then wordlessly opened his door a little wider in invitation.

"Sorry." Antonio said, leaving his suitcase by the door just in case Francis changed his mind and asked him to leave. He hurriedly rubbed at his eyes, trying to still his tears. "I did something stupid."

"Your cap?" he asked, and the Spaniard could only nod, hiding his face.

"I should have waited, or maybe I shouldn't have told them at all, I don't know-"

"No, it's good that you told them." The blond said, taking out his phone, he appeared to be typing out a text message. "You couldn't go on living the way you were."

"I don't know what to do." He said, taking a deep breath as his tears finally began to lessen. "I can't go back there, I don't have anywhere to go, I don't have the money to get an apartment, I-"

"We'll figure that out later," Francis said with a wave of the hand. "Tonight you just need something to take your mind off of things, and lucky for you Gilbert's grandfather just restocked their beer."

"You know what Toni? Fuck your parents. Sure your mom's hot and your dad can make a kick-ass araypos…"

"Arepas." Antonio corrected, trying not to grin. Gilbert was already wasted when they got to his house; and when he found out what the Spaniard's parents did he nearly tripped over the couch as he ran towards the door, vowing revenge. Francis was right, their friend made any situation funny. This night could only get better.

"But anyways," he said with a hiccup. "Who gives a shit if you like boys? My brother Lud over here likes boys, and-"

"Gilbert!" the boy all but shouted, his face bright red. Ludwig, Gilbert's younger brother, sat in the corner of the room with his longtime friend, a little Italian boy whose name Antonio couldn't quite place at the time. The two were playing with little plastic army men. Well, Ludwig played with the army men, his friend simply stared at the trio occupying the couch, hazel eyes wide with confusion and wonder. Up until now he'd only been babbling nonsense while the German boy nodded every few seconds, though it was easy to see that he was far too serious about his army games, so wrapped up in it that he didn't hear a word his friend said.

"It's okay, Ludwig." The Italian said, patting his friend on the shoulder reassuringly. "Mio fratello likes boys too! But don't tell him I told you. He'd get me in trouble."

"See?" Gilbert asked, grinning as he set his beer down on the coffee table. "Gays, gays everywhere! There's just no escape. Why is that such a big deal to people?"

Antonio wondered if it would be prudent to send the boys in the other room to play, considering how close the blond child looked to crying, as well as the fact that Gilbert's behavior would only worsen with his blood-alcohol ratio.

Francis, seeming to read his mind told them, "Mes amies, why don't you run upstairs? We're talking about grown up things."

"I am a grown up." Ludwig all but growled, but his Italian friend was already bounding away, singing a cheery song as he called for the older boy to follow him, which he did, only after a fair bit of grumbling, and Antonio was glad he managed to keep himself from laughing throughout the whole scene.

"Danke Gott." Gilbert said, swaying as he got to his feet. "Now we can get down to the nitty gritty."

"The what?" Antonio asked, taking a sip of the beer that had been set out for him. He wasn't a fan of the drink, it was far too bitter for his liking, but he figured if there was ever a good night to get drunk off his ass, it was tonight. Luckily Francis resisted, claiming that he preferred wine instead, and looking put out when Gilbert promptly told him they never bought any. At the very least this ensured him a ride home.

Said German took another swig of beer. "We have to take a good hard look at society," he said, "and it's prejudice towards butts."

Antonio snorted; glad he'd already swallowed his drink before the man could make him laugh. Francis simply shook his head. "What in God's name are you talking about?"

"It's no secret that gay guys like doing it up the butt." He elaborated, his face strained as if he were explaining a complicated math scenario. "That's the real problem that people have, they aren't allowed to appreciate butts."

Antonio tried to cut in, but Gilbert was already continuing.

"There's nothing wrong with liking butts." He said, "I like butts. Do I like it up the ass like Francis here? No. But I like butts."

"I've only done that twice." Francis said, trying to look angry, though there was a small smile on his lips.

"But that's the thing!" Gilbert replied, shaking his head. "You liked it so much you did it again. Me? I tried it but I didn't like it. Everyone should-"

"Time out." Antonio said, "I thought you liked girls?"

Gilbert's face was suddenly a deep shade of red, he looked away. "It was with a girl."

At this they promptly burst into laughter; and Antonio marveled at the powers that alcohol had in revealing such secrets.

"That's beside the point." He protested, his face losing some of its blush as he continued with his rant. "The point is that she and I liked butts enough to try it, and everybody who likes butts should. Who knows how many times Toni here's had it up the ass-"

Now it was Antonio's turn to blush, and setting his beer down he said; "I've never had it up the ass."

Gilbert blinked at him, obviously shocked. "But you're gay!" he said.

"Not all gays like it up the ass." He responded, trying to suppress a grin at the clear confusion on his friend's face. He was glad Gilbert went off again before he could continue, lest he reveal that he'd never actually been with anyone before.

"Fair enough." Gilbert said. "But you like butts, right?"

Antonio pretended to think for a moment, scratching his chin and blinking several times before saying, "Yeah, butts are nice."

"And Francis- you definitely like butts."

"Yes Gilbert," Francis said with a sigh. "I like butts."

"All kinds of butts though, guys and girl butts, considering your dating record." Francis opened his mouth to say something, but Gilbert cut him off, his face contorted with anger as well as obvious confusion. Antonio wondered just how drunk he'd been before they got there.

"The point is that pretty much everybody likes butts, and that's okay, butts are great. But God forbid you like a butt if it belongs to somebody with the same genitals as you." He sat down again, taking a deep breath; he finally seemed to have exhausted himself. "Therefore, friends, society needs to get over themselves, and just admit that a butt is a good butt, no matter who it belongs to."

Francis began a slow clap, grinning widely. "Gilbert Beilschmidt for president."

"And my vice president will be Antonio Fernandez Carr…" he trailed off, blinking at him as if he was just seeing him for the first time. "What the fuck." He said, rubbing his forehead. "What. The. Fuck. Why is your name so long? How are we supposed to fit that on a ballot?"

They laughed, and then silence settled over them. Francis picked up the remote and changed the channel to some sitcom, and Antonio took small, calculated sips of his beer, hoping that it would be enough to ward off the feeling of a few hours before that were threatening to make another appearance.

Gilbert's eyes were half closed, and for a moment he expected him to fall asleep, but suddenly the teen sat up, face lit up with excitement. "I have an idea."

Francis made eye contact with Antonio; this could be good.

"Go on."

It was immature, it was unnecessary, it was downright rude, but as they pulled out of the local grocery outlet, trunk packed with as many packages of toilet paper as they could fit, Antonio realized that he didn't care.

"You're in your prime after all!" Gilbert said as they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the all but deserted street. "Twenty years from now you're going to remember the total bitches that your parents are, then you're going to try to toilet paper their house, but your joints will hurt too much. This is why you've got to do these things while you're young and spry."

"Thanks Gil," Francis called back from where he was driving. "You don't need to give a speech about everything you do."

The man snorted, running his fingers through his nearly snow white hair. "Fuck off, French fry, it's not like you won't be joining us."

"Do you really think we can do it though?" Antonio asked hesitantly. It was nearly midnight now, meaning that his parents were likely asleep. It would only take one loud noise to change that though. "We've got a shit ton of toilet paper. It's going to take at least a half hour."

"Don't be such a little bitch." Gilbert said, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "Trust me; this is going to be great."

And it was.

The process itself might have actually taken a half hour if the majority of the party wasn't drunk. Though Gilbert's movements were much more sluggish and messy than his, Antonio still had trouble seeing straight, or remembering up from down. He was pretty sure he toilet papered some of the neighbor's yard by accident.

It would have gone on for much longer if they hadn't run out of things to toilet paper. The yard was nearly covered in it, but by then they'd only used half of their stash.

"I say we move on." Gilbert said.

"To where?" Antonio asked, following Francis as he began to make his way back to their car. Good God, how was the Frenchman walking so quickly?

"I don't know. Do you have somebody you don't like?" Gilbert asked as he got into the car, the question directed at both of them.

While Antonio couldn't think of anyone he disliked to the extent of toilet papering their house, Francis could.

"Does anybody know Arthur Kirkland's address?"

By the time they'd decided that they'd finished vandalizing Arthur's yard, it was nearly two in the morning.

Well, decided isn't the right word. They were actually caught before they could really finish.

The light of the porch made him dizzy enough to pause, and the Antonio realized what was happening. He turned around only to see that Francis was bolting to the car, Gilbert close behind him.

He was intent on following them, but the door opened before he could take a step. He turned to see Arthur Kirkland, a grumpy junior that he'd never really spoken to, and had suddenly realized what Francis meant by "Eyebrows thicker than my dick."

That left room for a whole other joke, but he couldn't quite make it at the moment, seeing as he was being yelled at. He tried to tune his thoughts back in, and began to actually hear what the blond was saying to him.

"You fucking gits better clean this up- and don't tell me that the frog had nothing to do with it, I know bloody well he did!"

Frog? What did he mean by frog? Antonio was trying to put it together, but the squealing of tires, followed by a car horn interrupted his thoughts.

"Get in the car, motherfucker!"

He turned to see Gilbert hanging out of the passenger seat window, Francis grinning behind him as he revved the engine.

"I knew it!" Arthur yelled as Antonio made a dash for the car. "You bastard, I'm telling your mum!"

Francis and Gilbert promptly burst into laughter, and Antonio couldn't help but join in as he got into the vehicle.

"I'm serious!" Arthur raged as he began to walk towards them. "I'm going to call the police!"

"Not my 'mum'?" Francis sighed, "Pitié, she would have been so proud."

The Englishman stalked towards the car, a murderous expression on his face.

"Oh shit." Gilbert shouted, pulling himself back from where he hung out the window. Before he could make it the entire way inside Francis tore off, being sure to throw Arthur a middle finger before they got too far away.

They stopped at a twenty four hour drive through on the way back, making the poor lady on the other line sit through ten full minutes of bickering over what to get and who was going to pay. It was all worth it though, Antonio realized as he finished his cheeseburger. He didn't realize how hungry he was until now.

"You guys can just stay over." Gilbert said as Francis came to an intersection. "My grandpa won't care, as long as we're quiet."

"Well then we'll take the couch," Francis said, "You can sleep outside."

"I won't have anywhere to piss then." He said with a frown, but then he started to grin. "Lucky for you I like a breeze."

"Or you could just, oh I don't know, come inside when you need to go?"

"Silly French fry." Gilbert said, shaking his head. "After tonight you should understand that I live my life on the edge. Also-" he stopped mid-sentence.

"What is it?" Antonio asked, accidentally spilling his ketchup and trying to clean up the mess he'd made in the back seat before Francis could notice.

"I forgot to feed Gilbird."

They both knew what was coming next, and they braced for it.

"You've got to go faster!" Gilbert yelled, shaking Francis by the shoulder. "Speed, man! He might not make it!"

Antonio would have laughed if his friend wasn't currently crying, his face screwed up in horror. He thanked God they'd left before he could get himself that drunk.

"I'm going, I'm going." Francis grumbled, shift gears to gain some speed. "Mon Dieu, he's fine."

"No, you don't understand!" Gilbert bawled, snot dripping from his nose. He was the definition of an ugly crier. "I haven't seen him at all today, he must be so lonely! We have to hurry before he dies."

"He's not going to die." Francis said, rolling his eyes. He sped up nevertheless.

When they reached the German's house he tumbled out of the car and ran for the door. Francis and Antonio followed, though the later doing so in a clumsy manner.

When they entered the house and Gilbert was nowhere to be found, they went to his bedroom, only to see their friend curled up on the floor in front of an open cage, a bird in his arms. He was crying with relief.

"It's okay Gilbird. I'm back now. I'm so sorry."

Antonio couldn't help it, he laughed. Gilbert shot him a glare, but continued nevertheless, stroking Gilbird's head as he hand fed him seeds. "Now that I don't have school anymore you don't have to stay in your cage all day. I can let you out when I'm at home. You won't have to be neglected anymore."

Francis shook his head, turning towards the door. "I'm going to make popcorn, see you in the living room when you're done being a total bitch."

Antonio followed, not missing how Gilbert flipped them off as they left. He had to suppress another laugh.

The two of them pulled off their pants on the way to the kitchen, relieved to be free of them and hoping Gilbert's younger brother, or worse, his grandfather wouldn't walk in the room.

"You should go put in a movie." Francis said as he searched in their pantry, finding a bag of popcorn and moving to the microwave. "We shouldn't let Gilbert choose."

There was merit to his words, seeing as the man's taste varied from low budget horror flicks to slow build, three hour long Victorian romance films. Though Francis was well versed in film and favored the most abstract, pretentious movies possible, Antonio didn't fare much better than Gilbert.

He liked musicals.

Which meant he was saddened to look through Gilbert's movie drawer and find that he only had two options, 'High School Musical,' or 'Fiddler on the Roof.'

He chose the latter of the two, figuring that it was just long enough and mellow enough that his friends would be put to sleep before the end of it. He wouldn't mind though, he loved watching these sort of things, and doing so without Gilbert and Francis's interruptions would be a blessing.

By the time his friends joined him the film had reached the end of its first musical number. Though Francis only gave a hum of disapproval as he sat down, passing him a bowl of popcorn, Gilbert immediately broke into song.

"Tradition!" he nearly shouted, causing the two of them to yank him onto the couch, harshly shushing him.

"Remember what I said about sleeping outside." Francis warned, though he was smiling nonetheless.

"I didn't think you liked these movies." Antonio said, and Gilbert nodded.

"I fucking hate them." He replied, shrugging. "That doesn't mean I can't sing the songs."

About an hour passed, and the three of them simply sat in a state of stupor, Gilbert was half on the couch and half on the ground, and Antonio trying to politely kick him off so that he could stretch himself out. Just when he thought he might succeed, he heard his phone go off.

The three of them froze, and Antonio hesitantly made his way across the room to where he'd left his pants. He pulled out the device, reading that he had a missed call and a voice mail.

It was from his father.

He gulped, remembering the scene from earlier that day, when his mother had gone off on him, saying the most hurtful things he could imagine, and his father had simply stood in silence, neither joining in her nor defending him. Maybe he took his side after all. Maybe he'd apologize, or invite him back home, or do something, anything to comfort him after all of the terrible things that had happened that day.

Antonio pretended not to notice his friend's eyes on him as he hit the play back and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Hola, mijo." came his father's voice, "I don't really know what to say right now. I'm sorry for what happened today. I…"

He trailed off for a moment, and Antonio held his breath.

"I know I shouldn't have let her talk to you like that, but you have to understand how hard this is for us Toni. You're going against our ways, you're going against God. It's terrifying mijo."

At that his father's voice cracked, and Antonio realized that he too was crying.

"We don't know what to do, Toni. It our fault that you turned out like this, we should have been better. We're sorry."

"Fuck that." He heard Gilbert say from across the room, and he only just realized he had it on speaker phone. He let the message continue regardless.

"We love you Toni, and that's why your mother said all of those things today. She wants the best for you. You need to try to change, mijo. Father Lucas would be willing to meet with you…"

Antonio couldn't help it. He pressed stop before the message could finish, and quickly turned off his phone and set it back on the ground.

"That was shitty." Francis said simply.

"I don't get it." Antonio said, going back to the couch. "He said they love me, they want the best for me, but how could that translate into hurting me like this?"

"Religion can do strange things to people." Gilbert said, suddenly somber. Antonio was glad for it, he didn't know how he'd react if his friend went on another rant about butts at that current moment. "I'm sure their just doing what they think is best. You shouldn't hold it against them."

"But don't just let the walk on you, either." Francis said, leaning back. There was a kind smile on his face. "Stand your ground Toni; someday they'll come to terms with it."

"It's a lot easier said than done." Antonio replied. "I don't want to leave them behind like that."

"Who says you're leaving them behind?" Gilbert asked. "Just take a break. Call back in a few weeks once they've settled down, then you can talk about it."

He shook his head. "I don't know if that plan would work."

"Well Toni," Francis started, "Do you have a better one?"

Feeling a wry smile break across his face, he shook his head. "I don't know if they'll let me move back in though."

"We could get an apartment." Gilbert suggested, sitting up. "Imagine us three sharing a space! No adults and no rules! I know we're broke, but we could just get a single bedroom apartment and get bunk beds or something. We're all eighteen, we could do it."

"It'd be fun," Francis said, "I might end up killing you though."

"Fine." Gilbert huffed. "We'll get a two bedroom one. Toni and I can share; we didn't want to be around your fancy ass anyways."

"Nah Gil, I'd have to agree with Francis on this one." He said, "I'd probably kill you too."

He frowned. "What am I supposed to do then?"

"You can sleep outside."

Before Gilbert could respond, there was a tap on the window behind them that caused them to jump. They waited a moment, thinking it might be the wind, but then it happened again. Cautiously, Francis pulled open the curtains, only to reveal an angry Arthur's Kirkland knocking on the glass, with two cop cars in the street behind him.

"Sacrebleu."