Author's Note: I actually managed another chapter, albeit a slightly shorter one. It's a little messy, I guess you can't say, but then again Gilbert is a very complex person and so his thoughts can be all over the place. But rest assured, certain things that aren't touched on as much in this chapter will be centered on later on!

Auguste,

You've been occasionally sending letters asking me why I haven't responded to anything in the past few months. You've asked me why I didn't come back over the summer and if I've thought of returning home for winter break. You want me to take a train back to Marseilles now that midterms are over.

I believe you don't understand that I don't want to see you. Or, perhaps you do, and you choose to remain stubborn until I concede. I won't, mind you, and you should know why. I felt disgusted and you saw my face that matched when you told me of your betrayal, but after you left me to think, I was relieved that you confessed. My suspicions were right on the mark up till that point. Therefore, I hope you will respect my wishes and let me finally enjoy my independence.

Marseilles is no longer my home. You are no longer my home. I have been without one since spring exams, however I am finding my heart remaining in Lacombrade Academy. While this place isn't my home either, I'd rather stay here than be anywhere near you.

I've long known since childhood that what we had was a secret I once viewed as beautiful, and despite that idea being shattered, I refuse to return to that life. One day you will come to terms that I can only see you as family now. When that happens, only then will I agree to come back.

Until then, you will feel the loneliness I once suffered when you weren't around.

- Gilbert

The letter never made its way into the mailing room, never into an envelope with a stamp and a written address. Rather, Gilbert kept it in a box in the back of his wardrobe filled with clothes. It became the most recent of all the other letters he's written and failed to send out.

The last time he saw Auguste Beau was back in the spring of the previous semester. Family visitation days take place a couple weeks before the final testing period every year as a way of letting students relax in the midst of studying. As for Gilbert, it was anything but relaxing. Spring had turned into a dreadful season for him last semester.

Whatever we had was foolish and wrong to begin with, he told himself. And yet, he's found himself unable to send any letters expressing his feelings to Auguste ever since they last parted ways. Whether it was out of insecurity or merely cowardice, he didn't know.

Letter now in its box in the closet, he settled with spending his time looking out the window. Snow was currently falling as several boys chased each other outside. It was Saturday, meaning no classes for the day, and many were taking advantage of that to play after breakfast. He found the white blankets to be very pretty, but he didn't like the cold enough to tolerate it for too long.

He didn't really like this cold day in particular. Today, he and Serge would be spending the day together.

Serge had kept his word to avoid doing anything to annoy him for the entire week to today. Matter of fact, he avoided him altogether. He'd already be dressed and leaving the room as soon as Gilbert would wake up, and would request to be partners with someone else if they happened to be paired together for classes. Every night, he'd quietly do his homework at his desk or come back from spending time with Max Blough without speaking about it. It was this sort of privacy the blond wished for, where there was mutual respect for each other's space.

If only his roommate thought the same thing. He didn't, of course, for otherwise they wouldn't be in this situation. That annoyed Gilbert to no end, but it didn't count towards him breaking off the arrangement they agreed to.

"Meet me in the music room, okay?"

"I thought the deal was we'd do whatever I wanted."

"You wouldn't mind doing just this one thing, right, Gilbert?"

That was the only conversation they had today right before breakfast. Reluctantly he'd agreed, mind flooded with countless ways this could go wrong. Maybe Serge was planning to do something to him. What if he was waiting in that room for him to walk into his trap?

... No. He shook his head at the thought. Serge has been awfully good enough just to get me alone like this. As much as I hate to admit it, he's too smart to do something foolish like that. Besides, he was already on his way to the music room as he considered the ways this day could turn out for both of them.

He wasn't expecting to hear the piano being played behind the closed doors upon his arrival. He was nowhere near a music expert, but he could tell the music was being produced by someone who had the makings to be a professional.

The melody was soft and sweet. There was this certain delicateness to the sounds reaching his ears. Closing his eyes, he stood there for a moment and dwelled on what the song made him feel - something warm, something bright... sunlight. Gilbert had been whisked away to a spring afternoon where the sun was gentle and he could physically sense the rays washing over his face. He's fallen asleep outside more than once during the past springtimes, and this song brought him back to those peaceful days.

I wonder who could be playing at this- Wait a minute. His eyes snapped open. The moment had been lost as he did so. He had a feeling he knew just whowas behind this. He remembered whom he came here for.

And when he opened the door to enter the music room, his suspicions were confirmed. Serge's slender fingers were practically gliding across the board. His eyes flickered open and closed every so often as if he were in a trance. Gilbert couldn't help but feel amazed by how focused he was yet how he seemed to easily know which key was which without looking.

The song came to an abrupt stop. Gilbert didn't even notice he was still staring at Serge until the noirette locked eyes with his. That familiar feeling of disgust he associated with him was beginning to come back; the only times they've ever looked at each other straight in the eye were the times Gilbert's hate towards him rose significantly.

"Did you enjoy my playing, Gilbert?" he asked, but he seemed to know the answer already. It was in the mischievous glint in his eyes that gave it away.

How annoying... But I have to be honest. "I will say... that your skills on the piano have to be the one thing I don't find distasteful about you."

"Should I take that as a compliment, Gilbert?"

"Do so before I take it back. You won't be getting anything close to a compliment such as that out of me easily."

"I was expecting that." Serge pushed his seat back so he could stand up. He faced the blond and took a bow. "I'm glad I got to entertain you."

He wondered if this was all he wanted him for. "So, what, you brought me here to show off?"

"You could say that. Now that I've taken care of what I wanted to do, you have my full attention." Straightening up he shined a smile. "I'm at your disposal."

If he really was, he'd have him disposed in a trash can where he belonged. But he knew he could only go so far with Serge's promise of doing whatever he wanted today as long as they were together. As far as he knew, he had an idea as to where the limit was. The thought made him want to shudder.

He didn't, mind you. Rather, he tipped his head forward in understanding before turning his back to him. He didn't need to look back to see if he was being followed, for he could hear footsteps as well as irritating humming that was in tune to the song briefly played on the piano before.

Let's just get this over with...

They ended up in the library. It was barely occupied, the most noise coming from whoever was put in charge of organizing the books today. Serge didn't seem surprised by this choice at all; he looked more bored than anything.

"Do you really intend on keeping me quiet for the rest of the day?" he whispered so as to avoid being told off by the librarian reading at the counter.

"Not everything is done with you in mind, you know," Gilbert countered. "I happen to be in need of a new book to read since I've already finished the one for our literature class."

"Ah, that was a boring book..."

"I'll agree with you this once."

Gilbert made sure his roommate did as little as possible. He made him follow him around in the section for fictional works in search of a book that should occupy him until their literature class would switch out their assigned one for something different. He made him carry any books he found interesting so his hands were free to grab any more. When he felt satisfied after twenty minutes of looking, the two settled down at a table where the former got to reading. Serge was free to do some searching of his own or even choose something from the pile they had.

He didn't mind the way he was trying to bore holes at him despite the book in front of his face. He was far from being ignored, but he wasn't being bothered either. This was perfect for him to finally get the peace he was looking for. It became even more enjoyable when he heard a sigh of defeat and the pulling of a book from their stack followed by pages being flipped open.

They stayed like this for what he hoped was hours. Although he was engrossed in the plot line of his book, he couldn't help but feel wary about how fast time was really passing. For all he knew, he could feel like three hours have passed when only it's only been one. A minute could actually be a second in disguise. Or perhaps he was just paranoid, which seemed to be the most reasonable thought.

"Psst... Gilbert..."

The blond jumped a little in his seat. He set his book face down faster than he expected of himself, but relaxed when he realized it was only Serge whispering to him. That's when he found himself irritated again as he wondered what he could possibly want.

But to his mild astonishment, only evidenced by his eyes widening only the slightest, his roommate was pointing at a section of a text in the book he must've been reading all this time. "Do you think you could explain this part to me? I grabbed this book on Ancient Greek poetry while you were looking around, and I'm trying to comprehend the ending to one of the poems."

Well, this was new for him. He didn't think he would receive such a serious request unless they were doing homework together. He may as well see what the great honor student Serge Battour was being stumped by, and so he nodded as a signal for the book to be passed over to him so he could read through the lines.

"Who this time am I to persuade

to your love? Sappho, who is doing you wrong?

For even if she flees, soon she shall pursue.

And if she refuses gifts, soon she shall give them.

If she doesn't love you, soon she shall love

even if she's unwilling."

Come to me now once again and release me

from grueling anxiety.

All that my heart longs for,

fulfill. And be yourself my ally in love's battle.

Gilbert blinked at what he read. "'Ode to Aphrodite'," he muttered quietly. "I didn't think something like this would be allowed in a book in this school."

Serge tilted his head in genuine curiosity. "Why's that?"

"The poet behind this, Sappho, is famous for her works about her affection towards other women. It'd start a massive controversy in the school if word got out that she has a poem in that book you were reading, what with this being a Catholic school and all." He skimmed through the lines again. "Whoever's in charge of the delivery of books for the library must not have checked the content properly."

"I mean, who'd have the time to look through every single book here?"

"Librarians doing their job," he deadpanned.

Serge covering his mouth with a hand to muffle his laughter took Gilbert by surprise. Yes, he did mean what he said as a joke, but he didn't think the other would find it funny enough to laugh at. He cleared his throat to return to the original subject at hand.

"Anyways, I've seen this piece before. The second half of this stanza and the full one after that are Aphrodite's response to Sappho's prayer..."

He then went on about how the speaker in the poem is evidenced to have called for the goddess of love's help before and is in need of her once more, and how the latter was assuring her that the speaker's target of her unrequited affections would eventually return those feelings. All the while, he was aware of how Serge looked to be hanging on to his every word, grasping at whatever information he could give.

"... However, that's just my interpretation of this." The blond glanced up to see he was still being focused on. "Why was it that you, an honor student, couldn't figure out something as basic as my explanation?"

Serge didn't have any particular expression on his face. He didn't look bored or frustrated, not even cracking that signature smile of his. It was the first time his face looked so blank. Then, suddenly, his eyes cast downwards, giving a saddened appearance that he's never revealed around Gilbert before.

"Perhaps part of me didn't want to understand why it was so relatable."

Their moment in the library would one day be known as the first time the two shared a real conversation, one where neither were playing any games on the other. It was this point in time that Gilbert believed he actually got to sympathize with Serge.

For the rest of the day, Gilbert and Serge stayed in their dorm, the book of Ancient Greek poetry having been checked out under the latter's name and now under their care. As for the former, he didn't try prying into the meaning of his roommate's words back at the library. He shouldn't have to care about what he meant nor should he bother with trying to.

They were perfectly fine with continuing their first real conversation by moving on to their own interpretations of books both of them have happened to read. This was followed by looking back on earlier this morning when Serge was playing piano. It still impressed Gilbert to no end of how skilled he was.

"My father always loved it, even wanted to give up his future title as viscount if it meant being famous for being a pianist rather than for his status. Unfortunately, because of an illness and my grandfather's pressure, he couldn't bring himself to make that dream come true."

"Professor Watts mentioned knowing your father before."

"He didn't just know him, they and the music teacher Professor René were best friends. They go all the way back to being students at this very school." The noirette leaned back where he sat on his bed as the other was across from him. "I came here to fulfill my father's dream that's become my own. I've been told I've been playing as early as my toddler years and I picked up on doing so naturally, what is labeled as being a true prodigy. Supposedly I got that from my father as well, other than his personality. My mother would tell me all the time that I'm just like him, even before her own passing."

A child whose lost both his parents at such a young age... Gilbert couldn't help but compare such a past to his own. His mother despised him. She even threatened to go crazy and kill him if it weren't for her husband, who showed no care for him, moving her to India while he was left under the care of the Cocteau household's staff. In a way, he could see the similarity between them.

Oh, but it's not like he had someone like Auguste around. On the other hand, maybe he did. It would explain his two-faced behavior a lot.

Gilbert shifted where he sat, crossing his legs by the ankles on the floor. "It's almost like you've got your whole life planned out for you."

"You could say that, I guess."

His eyes narrowed. "Then why act so differently in secret?" He didn't want to get to the bottom of their talk in the library. No, that could wait for some other time if they were forced to spend time together like this again. It's not like he ever lost sight of just who he was talking to, after all.

"Perfect honor student Serge Battour, heir to a grand life ahead of him, and on top of that a prodigy who has what it takes to become a great pianist one day. On the other hand, we have another half of Serge no one other than Blough and maybe some other upperclassmen knows about, who trades his knowledge for sex and even tests out his own voyeurism kink by purposely getting caught by his roommate. Something obviously went wrong."

By the look of heated anger entering dark brown eyes, he knew he was overstepping his boundaries, but that's what he wanted. Today was supposed to be his day, and they both knew that Serge was... What was the phrase? Ah, right, it was "at his disposal". Might as well use those words against him.

The boy clenched his fists until his tanned knuckles turned white. His jaw tightened within seconds of realizing what was being asked of him. Gilbert was aware of how smart he was, but he's also analyzed how short-tempered he can be. It only made him easier to predict.

This sort of manipulation they used on each other was just what made it understandable for them to hate each other.

"W-What the hell, you Miststück?" he seethed, standing up. "How dare... How dare you stick your nose in my privacy-"

"'Privacy'? Don't make me laugh. From what I remember, you were the one spilling your life story for me. All I did was ask one question... By the way, since I haven't called our time together off, that means we still get to do whatever I want."

A slight twitch under his right eye told him he was hitting the right marks. "No matter! It's still none of your business! If you're the one who wants me off your case, then how does that make it fair for you to be on mine?!"

"Like that's any of your-"

"'Business'? Don't make me laugh." He even spoke in the same tone used to mock him. "Either you give me an explanation, or so help me this will only be the first of many days like this together."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Gilbert stood up as well, both sharing a glare at equal level despite their height difference. "Being the devil's incarnate that you make yourself out to be for me, you're probably willing to dedicate your life to making me miserable."

"As if I could bring myself to care about what you do."

"Then for whatever's sake, stop making me care!"

For a brief minute, it was completely silent. Both parties had heaving chests and pure hate in their eyes - scalding brown against poisonous green. If only looks alone could kill either of them on the spot.

As expected, it was Serge who kept the air from turning stale. "What's that supposed to mean?" This time, his voice was much calmer, though still tense.

"... If I have to show you, then you're living proof that sex really does kill brain cells no matter how smart you are."

Before there could be any objection, the blond strode over until the two were right in front of each other. He didn't waste any second hesitating in grabbing the other by the collar of his shirt so they were staring directly eye to eye. He didn't care about how all the anger was lost to be replaced with shock from the suddenness of his actions. This only proved to make things easier.

Gilbert pressed his lips against Serge's no matter how disgusted he was by doing so. He expected the surprised "Mmph!" as well as the squirm to break free, which he put to rest by pulling back only to push him onto his back on his bed. There was no time for him to think as the link was established again.

Serge started shaking upon feeling pale lips move against his darker ones. The owner of these attackers internally smirked at this, at the feeling of his mouth slowly losing the resistance he was barely able to have up to begin with. With the two's eyes remaining wide open, he watched originally defiant brown ones first dull, then darken, and eventually close at the same time as Serge gave up.

Just as he thought. This boy really was a slave to pleasure.

He pulled back once more to breathe and stare down at his work. The noirette's arms laid limp at his sides, having never used them to fight back; were he to have used them, he could've gotten away. His eyelids remained closed and his lips were barely parted open as he took deep breaths of his own. All of this was accomplished with one kiss.

I guess I can understand what Blough sees in him, he thought to himself.

Underneath him, Serge had finally opened his eyes once more to look up at him, all traces of anger vanished, black pupils taking over most of the color. The tip of his tongue darted out to catch whatever taste of him he could get on his bottom lip. He remembered a similar face from when he found himself watching this one and their upperclassman have sex outdoors. Pure submission had taken the form of a human.

He watched him gulp before he parted his lips more to speak. "Gilbert..." His voice sounded so needy, making it evident that he was completely compliant now. "Gilbert, I-I-"

"I hate you, Serge Battour." Those five words were all it took to shut him up. He then added, "And for the record, I refuse to let you make me into Sappho."

Gilbert got off of him to straighten out his slightly disheveled shirt without a care in the world. He had the right to be proud of himself. He brought Serge down into his most vulnerable state and crushed him. So, he chose not to bring himself to care any longer. He never minded when he was called the German equivalent of a "bastard" or how pissed off he became during their argument, nor did he mind how Serge was now sitting up and staring at his back whilst trying to shake off his sensitivity.

If this was what it took to finally get his point across, then so be it. There was never any chance to turn back to begin with. He was unaffected by that fact.

"Do you plan on going down for supper soon? If so, try to not look as unsightly as you do now, given you are quite popular and all that. Wouldn't want to disappoint the people who don't even know who you really are."

As Gilbert proceeded to leave Room 17, however, he heard Serge mutter something simple enough to translate based on the German dictionary he studied.

"Du weißt nichts über mich."

You know nothing about me.