Marisol Vargas is quite the beautiful Italian, but don't let that fool you. Her temper is always poised to strike, and when it does, it's practically a nuclear explosion. But currently, there was no explosion. The curly haired brunette was quietly minding her own business reading her favorite book under the cool shade of a tree. All seemed peaceful, but then /he/ happened.
Marisol could sense him even before he spoke to her. Her fingers clenched the edges of her book tightly, and her hazel eyes were no longer skimming the pages for the thrilling adventure of the main character, but were shut in annoyance. Was a quiet afternoon too much to ask?
"What's an awesome schöne frau like you doing, talking to an unawesome loser like me~?" Came the rough and accented voice from the German standing in front of her.
"I don't believe that I was talking to you," Marisol grumbled in her accented Italian voice. "Accidenti dummkopf..."
He raised a silver eyebrow above his ruby red eyes. "Oh~? Italian /and/ German?" Marisol ignored him and tried to continue reading, but it was quite hard to do when the annoying German decided to plop down right next to her. "That's sexy."
Marisol rolled her eyes and sighed. "Leave." She glared directly in his ruby orbs. "Before I make you."
The man only blinked. He didn't move at all, but he hesitated, rethinking what he was about to say. Mentally, Marisol smiled. She enjoyed striking fear into other's hearts when they deserved it. And to deserve it, they just had to piss her off. Her internal smile faded though once he continued.
The German ran a hand through his scruffy silver hair and gave Marisol a look that she thought was supposed to make her weak in the knees. But it didn't. "Did it hurt?" He asked sincerely.
Marisol frowned. Did what hurt? She didn't...do anything... "What did I-"
The silver haired other cut her off. He opened his sparkling red eyes in an attempt to finalize the make-you-weak-in-the-knees look and said, "When you fell from heaven~?"
"Oh my God!" Marisol exclaimed out of utter I-can't-believe-you-just-said-that-ness. She shut her book and slammed it against her forehead. That line was the cheesiest one out there! What the hell was he thinking?
The albino merely laughed at her reaction. Marisol dropped the book onto her lap and let her hands fall to her sides and onto the grass. Marisol didn't know it, but at this moment the German's heart was beating a mile a minute.
He saw her beautiful hand, alone and empty, sitting on the ground in front of him. This was his big chance, the moment that he had been waiting for since the moment he first saw her. He took her soft olive hand in his albino one and she...she didn't move away. She didn't flinch or pull her hand back, she merely looked up and gazed into his dazzling red eyes with her sparkling hazel ones. The touch had shocked her, but in a pleasant way. Marisol was a little glad that she hadn't seen him reaching for her hand, because she would've pulled it away. And she never would've felt what she felt now. It was hard to explain, but...it felt good. It felt right.
The albino felt the same; and that's when he took the leap of faith. "My name's Gilbert. Gilbert Beilshmidt. I'm twenty years old and have red eyes and silver hair. I love beer and wurst and own a little yellow bird I named Gilbird. I have a younger brother named Ludwig, whom I have been raising his entire life. Our father left us when we were very young, and our mother spent too much time working or crying to really care for us. It was up to me to take care of myself and my little brother, and I'm pretty sure that we turned out okay. Our childhood was full of lies and sorrow, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I know what it feels like to be hurt by a stranger, and what it feels like to be lied to. And I promise you...I /promise/ you, I won't lie to you. Ever. That's why I'm telling you all about myself right now, literally right after we met, because I don't want you to have to trust a stranger, and then fear that you'll get hurt. You probably think I'm such a dummkopf right now, but I want you to know that I won't let you get hurt. If you give me a chance, I'll prove that to you all in one night. So how about tomorrow? Say...eight o'clock?"
Marisol could do nothing but stare. Stare directly into his eyes with a blank expression. She had no clue how to react; she was speechless for once in her life. This man, whom she didn't know at all, just poured out his life story to a girl that he barely knew. And he had asked her out. W...what kind of a person does that? Marisol wasn't sure if she should accept. This guy was pretty creepy, and that "life story" was probably just some BS that he makes up for all the chicks. But...what if he was telling the truth? No, he couldn't be! But...
A minute later, after what felt like an eternity, Marisol finished debating back and forth with herself and made a decision. She closed her eyes slowly and exhaled. She spoke slowly and told him, "No."
Gilbert's heart had been shattered. No...? B-but this, she was the one! He could feel it deep within his bones, she was the one for him. They would be together forever! I mean, if awesomeness was a time, then they'd be an eternity! Gilbert's face fell as the horrid word shred his ear drums and rattled his brain. He felt as though he'd cry. Tears were actually starting to well up behind his eyes and were threatening to fall. He sighed and shamefully turned his head away from Marisol. What a dummkopf he'd been to actually think that she'd accept his offer! He was so unawesome. Gilbert started to relax his hand so to let hers fall from his.
But it didn't fall. It only gripped his hand tighter. Gilbert looked back at Marisol with hope in his huge eyes and saw her beautiful smiling face. "No," she repeated. "I don't want you to pick me up tomorrow at eight. I want to spend today with you."
Gilbert smiled warmly at her. Marisol smiled back. Wether he was telling the truth or not, wether he had told her of his life or not, Marisol felt a feeling that made a thought nibble away at her brain. It was something she couldn't ignore. It was something that, to this day, Marisol still feels deep within her heart. It was also something that she wished she could feel on her finger tips once more.
It had been a little over a year since Gilbert and his idiota younger brother had been called off to serve their country. This memory that Marisol had of her and her boyfriend's first meeting was what had kept her going each and every day. It didn't make the pain go away, but it made it a little more bearable.
But today, even after remembering their first meeting in graphic detail over and over, looking at pictures and watching home movies with him and her in it, Marisol didn't feel the least bit better. It only made her feel worse, actually.
Currently, Marisol was lying on her bed and clutching a picture of Gilbert close to her heart while crying terribly. You see, Gilbert would send her a letter each week about how he was doing and about how much he missed and loved her, but for the past month and a half she had received no letter. No reassurance of his safety, no reassurance of how much he loved and missed her, nothing.
The first week, she thought that the mail was just late. By the second week, she had gotten worried but still tried to convince herself that the mail was just late. By the third week, Marisol was starting to panic. She tried to tell herself that everything was okay, but by the forth week she knew that it wasn't. The fifth week was miserable, and the sixth week, today, Marisol didn't even bother to check the mailbox.
"He's gone! He's gone!" She wailed between sobs. "Gilbert, you idiota! C-come back to me! No! No!"
Marisol's heart had been stomped on. It felt like someone had ripped her apart and then thrown her into the street. She was broken and depressed; she couldn't figure out how or why she would go on.