OKAY.
So I wasn't planning to post this, but then I realized that it's Gil's birthday! So here is your next chapter, with crappy unedited French and all!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY PRUSSIA!
Writing the Essay is Matthew's first class, straight at seven sharp. Which, come to think of it, is rather criminal, but he has a coffee and a bagel from the campus café, sips sugar and milky bitterness in the cool air as he walks towards theses and supporting sentences.
It had been a calm morning; Gilbert had not been in the room when Matthew had woken up, but he supposed that was understandable, what with being dead-drunk and all the last time Matthew had seen him. Besides, Matthew thought as he tossed his coffee cup into a recycling bin, six o'clock was an unholy hour to get up at.
That was his own fault, though, he supposed. Should have accepted the offer earlier, maybe would have gotten a room closer to the campus and an Expository Writing class at a less ridiculous time
(And maybe a roommate who could actually stay half-way sober, a less than charitable part of Matthew thought, but he pushed the thought away, shocked at its unkindness. Gilbert had come back, after all - had talked to him, invited him for fun, and even if he was a little over-enthusiastic and loud and sudden and had disappointed Matthew when he wasn't there in the morning, he seemed, all-in-all, not that bad, and he would be back later, of course he would, he had to didn't he? - he'd said and maybe he'd meant -
Not that Matthew should get his hopes up. He might have forgotten, after all. It'd happened before.)
The sun is up.
Matthew eats his bagel, and walks to class.
XXX
Writing the Essay wasn't, all things considered, as bad as he had expected. Of course, there was the irritated boy who sat behind him and grumbled curses in Italian during the entire lecture, and there had been the perfunctory awkward introductions Matthew had always hated in high school, but that was okay, he supposed. Their teacher was a friendly, soft-spoken man who looked like he should have been in college himself - Tino Vaina-something, though it didn't matter since he'd asked the students to call him Tino. He had a nice smile. Matthew remembered, since the professor had smiled at him.
They hadn't done much that day, only reviewed the basics - theses, hooks, the importance of transitions and lively vocabulary. A prolonged review session, in essence. Matthew didn't need it, had done fairly well in English throughout high school, but he paid attention, nonetheless. It was only polite.
Even if half of the class didn't seem to think so.
Matthew sighed, smiled a little in remembrance over his sandwich. He certainly had some…interesting classmates.
Although, to be honest, he was still a little confused over what exactly a "fucking potato bastard" was and how, exactly, vegetables were connected to legitimacy of birth.
(Not that he'd dare ask, of course. Even if he was sitting right behind him, Lovino Vargas - the Italian boy with the foul mouth - had had an expression that would have sent a mastiff running in terror. Matthew had turned around once during the entire class, and had never done so again.)
But. Even if he hadn't said anything the entire class, it had been a nice one. A good start to a new life as a college student. A good day. Beautiful weather: sunny, calm, peaceful -
"Hey, roomie! Wha'cha doing eating all by yourself?"
Matthew could feel every eye in the cafeteria turn towards him. It was a physical thing, an actual sensation of changing sight.
"Hi, Gilbert," he said, turning around and trying to smile in spite of the laps his heart was running around his chest.
"Nah, not Gilbert, new kid," Gilbert said, his grin as wild as his eyes as he let go of Matthew's shoulders. "Too - too formal, yaknow? It's Gil, kid, Gil. I like it better, anyway. It's all nice! and snappy! - and one-syllable and all that shit, don'chathink?"
"Dios mio, Gilbert, I thought you were finished with traumatizing the poor boy?"
"Ah, come on, Tonio," Gilbert said, turning towards the other student what was clearly supposed to be a pleading, innocent expression, "I was just being friendly."
"You could try doing it in a less noisy manner," Francis commented, sauntering easily forward, but despite his words, there was a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Bonjour, Matthew," he said, grinning as he raised a hand, lazily, in greeting. "Comment vais-tu?"
"Uh - b-bien, tres bien."
" Oh? Parles-tu francais?"
"Oui, un peu. Ma mere est canadienne."
"Hey! Francis! I don't know what you're saying, but if you're sexually harassing my roommate, then I'm going to -"
"Ave Maria purisima, could you keep the volume down a little, Gilbert? Everyone can hear, and Matthew's face is turning red. It's rather… cute."
"Hey! Don't you start going all rapist on me, too!" Gilbert said, glaring briefly at the Spaniard before he turned back to Matthew, trademark grin on his face. "Don't mind them," he said, grinning as he pointed to the now not-even-surreptitiously gaping crowd, "they're just a little overawed at my awesomeness right now."
"Are you drunk again? Antonio, I thought you said you wouldn't let him drink any more - and that's not fair, you didn't even offer meee any -"
"I'm not drunk," Gilbert said, folding his arms across his chest, grin still intact, "merely awesome."
"Alright, ninos, alright," Antonio said, smiling as he put both hands in the air, "stop fighting now, por favor - as adorable as Matthew looks right now, I think you better finish telling him what you wanted to before his face turns any redder."
"T - tell me what?"
"What?" Gilbert asked, and his 'what' echoed throughout the cafeteria. "Don't tell me you don't know?"
"I - well - I, um -"
"There is the part where you were too drunk to walk and didn't tell him anything, Gilbert."
"Oh. Right," Gilbert said, momentarily losing some of his energy. He regained it, though, in the next instant, grinning as he clapped his hands on Matthew's shoulders.
"We're going clubbing tonight, roomie! And you're coming!"
"Only if you want to, of course," Antonio quickly added.
"Psh, who wouldn't want to spend time with the awesome me?"
"Moi."
"Ah, don't be sarcastic, Francis - you do it all the time. You know all the pretty girls flock to me."
"You? Excusez-moi, Gilbert, but you are sadly mistaken - it is moi that all les dames come to -"
"At ten!" Antonio called, managing somehow to wave goodbye to Matthew even as he herded Francis and Gilbert out of the cafeteria. "We'll meet you in your room, okay?"
Matthew tried to nod, but somehow found that he couldn't move. Not with a million pairs of eyes suddenly on him and the snickers starting to break out as Gilbert and his friends slowly moved into the distance. And although he couldn't see his face, Matthew bet it was just as beet-red as Antonio had described.
Okay, commenting tymes!
First off, thank you many, many times to everyone who reviewed, alerted, favorite, etc – you guys are incredible and super-special awesome and Hima-worthy. In other words, I love you all.
To the anon mouse who reviewed: thank you a great deal for your advice, and I will hope that I will be able to write bipolar disorder with the respect it deserves. I don't have it, but from what I've read, it can be hell – and for going through that, you have my full respect. However, I might deviate a tad from your advice because right now Gilbert is not exactly manic so much as he is hypomanic – he's manic, yes, but it's not quite the type of major manic break that gets him hospitalized. IDK, I'm drawing a lot from Marya Hornbaucher's Madness right now, along with a tad of Patty/Anna Duke's A Brilliant Madness, which all had good reviews on Amazon, but feel free to call me out if I epically fail anything (are you sure you don't want to beta? We could do it via email or Livejournal if you don't have an account – I mean, no pressure on you, just if you would enjoy it :)
Okay! Lastly, a question. And I'm kind of embarrassed to ask this, as it kinds of shows my ignorance of all things normal teenage-ly, but…
What goes down at a night club? The interwebs tells me that most of them have some sort of a dress code, but Youtube videos tell me otherwise, so I'm currently mega-confused. Any other details to help this failure for a high school senior would also be lovely.
