Elizaveta couldn't believe she was doing this.
When she finally slaved through her last class of the day, she was so excited to go back home, kick off her shoes, and take a nap. Then in the middle of her professor's lecture, Gilbert just happened to text her. Her cell phone chimed loudly when the professor was in midsentence, and everyone in the class knew it was her cell phone and everyone knew it was from Gilbert because they all saw her eyes grow wide and curse like a sailor whenever that chime sounded.
Oh, she read their minds like an open book.
Is she going out with Gilbert then again she already broke up with Roderich but she hates Gilbert well they were childhood friends I thought she hated his guts Gilbert is rather handsome though blah blah blah blah blah.
Elizaveta could feel her eyebrows twitch when she stomped on her phone in her bag to shut it off and apologized to the professor.
It was times like this that made her want to strangle the living daylights out of that boy.
When the bell finally rang and signaled the end of another tiring school day, Elizaveta reluctantly opened her cell phone and read the text.
Don't read texts in class.
She was going to kill that boy.
Meet me at courtyard after school. Don't let Antonio or Francis see you. If they try to talk to you, run as fast as you can.
Elizaveta lifted an eyebrow. Why didn't he want her to see his friends? She shrugged to herself and threw the cell phone back into her purse before striding down the hallways towards the courtyard. Maybe she could hunt down Antonio or Francis and strike a conversation with them just to annoy Gilbert. She decided against it; no, she was going to be the better person.
Elizaveta took a trip to her locker before exiting the school and into the courtyard. Round stone tables and benches were bathed in the sunlight and shadows of emerald trees. Bright tulips were planted on each side of the cobblestone sidewalk that branched out to each granite table. She sat herself down on a stone bench in the shade of the acacia tree. It was rather strange why Gilbert chose this place instead of the original agreement down at the football field.
It took Elizaveta five minutes to realize that Gilbert was late. She had spent that time absentmindedly tracing the carvings on the stone bench of vines on either side intertwining and blooming vibrant roses. After a while, her fingers were rubbed raw and Gilbert had not yet made an appearance.
"I think you just got stood up, Liza," Elizaveta muttered to herself. She crossed her arms snappily. Why, why, why did she agree to help Gilbert in the first place? No doubt he was just teasing her and making her skip her nap for him. That idiot. That stupid—
The door swung open and Elizaveta's heart skipped a beat. Gilbert finally arrived at the doorway. But did he just walk in and sit down next to her like any other normal person? No, not at all. He poked his head out of the door and looked both ways like a spy and then dived to the ground and did a ninja roll before sliding onto the bench.
Elizaveta couldn't help but chuckle. She was still cross, but that was rather cute.
"Francis and Antonio wouldn't leave me alone," Gilbert said, smoothing down his white hair.
"Why'd you make me stay away from them?" Elizaveta asked.
"Because they can't keep a secret to save their life," Gilbert said breezily.
"Why would they keep a secret?" said Elizaveta.
Gilbert winced. "Uh, you know—"
Elizaveta narrowed her eyes. "You think I'm not good at keeping secrets?"
Gilbert's red eyes widened and he cursed under his breath. "No, it's just—"
"Or are you trying to take all the credit? This was not part of the agreement—!"
"That's not it either!" Gilbert said quickly. "But they might let something slip to you and—forget it. I'm being paranoid." Gilbert stretched and closed his eyes. "It's been a rough day, okay?"
Gilbert remained quiet and still for a moment. Elizaveta knitted her eyebrows. She poked him in the face.
"Don't tell me you're falling asleep," Elizaveta said warningly.
"I'm not," Gilbert said, swatting her hand away. "My eyes just hurt from the sun. Let's talk."
"Whatever you say," Elizaveta sighed. She could pretend to beat him up or flick him off without him ever knowing if she really got furious with him. Besides, he looked sweetly calm and collected when he wasn't smirking or laughing.
"So. About girls," Gilbert started. "What do I do about them? They're so confusing and PMS-crazy, I don't know how to deal with them."
"Keep treating them that way and you never will," Elizaveta said sourly. "Just because someone is a girl doesn't mean that she is having her premenstrual cycle every time she's mad."
"Well, this girl is irrationally cranky," Gilbert pointed out. "Anything I say to her is like treading on a mine field."
"Why do you like her?" Elizaveta asked.
Gilbert smiled wryly. "Why? Want to steal me away from her?"
"Gilbert, I'm this close to shoving my pencil in your eye."
Gilbert chuckled. "In all honesty, I'm pretty sure that she won't show any of her redeeming qualities to me."
"Then why bother?" she asked.
"Because, when I see her from afar—" Gilbert chewed on the words, checking how they tasted before he finally spoke them. "When I see her with anyone that's not me, she's really…"
"Ah," Elizaveta said monotonously. "What's her name?"
"What are you trying to do? Stalk the poor girl?"
"Maybe I can give her a warning," Elizaveta smirked.
Gilbert stuck his tongue out at her. "Let's get down to business, okay? Or else those tapes of Antonio and Lovi are going to get destroyed."
Elizaveta gasped. "You wouldn't! Gilbert, those are priceless tapes!"
"Unlike you, I don't really enjoy them. I actually expected to have a whole hour of Lovino beating the crap out of Antonio when I first taped it," Gilbert told her.
"Fine. We'll start working." Elizaveta pulled out a pen and a notepad. "What's your budget?"
"My budget?" Gilbert wrinkled his nose. "I thought you said money was a bad way to woo someone."
"Yes, but if you really want to impress her, you'd make something for her, and the resources will cost money," Elizaveta explained testily.
"I don't even know what I'm making," Gilbert groaned.
"Well, tell me about this girl," Elizaveta ordered.
Gilbert's pale cheeks tinged a light pink. He scratched his hair awkwardly. "She's almost as awesome as I am. Almost." He turned to Elizaveta. "Are you writing this down?"
"Not until I get some useful information," said Elizaveta. "You're making this harder than it needs to be."
"She's really violent sometimes, and anything I do seems to piss her off—"
"What is she like when she's not with you?" Elizaveta reworded the question.
"Hmph. Well, since she's no longer in my presence, her awesomeness will have to go down a couple levels," Gilbert admitted. "Though it's still higher than some particular people." He shrugged and rubbed his eyes. "She's like an older sister to everyone. And she has a horrible taste in men, because she used to date this pansy and wouldn't even look at me."
"Hmm," Elizaveta mumbled as she scribbled into her notepad.
"What are you writing?" Gilbert asked.
Elizaveta glanced at her companion. "How can you even tell when your eyes are closed?"
"I'm smart. I know you well enough. Don't doubt my powers."
Elizaveta rolled his eyes. "Just ideas."
"Let me see." Without waiting for Elizaveta to respond, Gilbert took the notebook from her hands and scanned the words, shading his eyes from the sunlight with his hand.
"'Decorate her car with roses and posters?'" he read out loud. "'Make her fortune cookies with the fortunes asking her out to the dance?'" He tossed the notebook into Elizaveta's face, who fumbled to catch it. "What kind of sappy ideas are those?"
"I'm trying my best here!" Elizaveta snapped. "You aren't doing anything productive! I'm the one who is truly asking this girl out!"
Gilbert burst out laughing. "That would be so awkward it would be hilarious."
"Gilbert," Elizaveta said warningly. She tapped his head with her pen. "Have you got any brains in that thick skull of yours?"
"Of course I do! Something has to contain my awesomeness." Gilbert yawned and stretched his arms. "Can we hurry up? I'm getting tired, and West has the car keys."
"We don't have to be here!" Elizaveta barked. "I sure as heck don't have to be here! I'm trying to help you and you're just being this—this—augh!" She slammed the notepad onto his forehead.
"All right, all right!" Gilbert said brightly. "Don't twist your panties." He tapped his chin thoughtfully like a little boy. "Do you like those ideas?"
"What do you mean?" Elizaveta asked.
"If a guy did any of those ideas to you, would you fall head over heels for them?" Gilbert asked.
Elizaveta contemplated. "I don't know. I don't like fortune cookies and I hate getting my car messy, so probably not."
"Then scrap them," Gilbert ordered. Elizaveta raised her eyebrows.
"You know, I'm not the representative of the entire female population," she pointed out. "Some girls might like it."
"I doubt she will," said Gilbert. He turned to Elizaveta and opened his eyes. The whites of his eyes were slightly red due to the bright sunlight. He leaned in closer. "What would be your ideal way of being asked out?"
"Why me?" Elizaveta complained.
"This is one of those rare moments where I will actually consider your opinion, Eliza. Relish it," Gilbert said, smirking playfully.
"You have a point," Elizaveta sighed. "Well…I'd like it if they made something for me."
"You already said that," Gilbert reminded her.
"I'm building up to the climax," Elizaveta retorted. She scratched her chin before her eyes lit up with inspiration. "Well, I would like it if—" She turned towards Gilbert and suddenly realized he was very close to him. She felt her cheeks grow warm as she edged away from him. "Okay, picture…a dobos torte—"
"That's your favorite dessert, isn't it?" Gilbert asked. "A Hungarian sponge cake."
Elizaveta tilted her head. "Good memory."
"You used to give me some all the time when we were little," Gilbert said, shrugging. "Now, a dobos torte."
"Right," Elizaveta said. She was surprised Gilbert even remembered that it was her favorite dessert. She remembered the olden days when they were young and they would sometimes exchange sweets when they visited each other's house. Elizaveta would give Gilbert a slice of dobos torte whenever they afforded to buy one, and Gilbert would give her a schwarzwälder kirschtortehis mother used to make before she died. To think that there was ever a day that Gilbert was not obnoxious!
"So, there will be the torte, and on top of it will be two chocolate covered strawberries," Elizaveta said dreamily. "One would be dipped so it would look like it was wearing a tuxedo—"
"A strawberry wearing a tux?"
"It's cute!" Elizaveta shot at him. "And the other one will look like a dress!"
"Great idea. I'll go stop by at Banana Republic to pick up the outfits, and you arrange for them to be dry cleaned afterwards. Or would strawberries prefer Strawberry Republic?"
"Not real clothes, you idiot," Elizaveta hissed. "Dipped in chocolate. I've seen it on the internet a couple times. People use milk chocolate and white chocolate."
"You use the internet for more than just yaoi fantasies?" Gilbert put a pale hand to his mouth, his eyes wide in feign surprise.
"Indeed; I even search up advice on how to murder annoying Prussians and get away with it," Elizaveta grumbled.
"You must get zero results, because that's impossible," Gilbert grinned cheekily.
"Oh, there's a time for everything," Elizaveta said darkly.
Gilbert shrugged. "All right-y then. That sounds like a good idea. Let's do it."
"Wait—you actually are agreeing to it?" Elizaveta exclaimed disbelievingly. "What happened to your ego for your flawless super-awesome strategies?"
"They're taking a break. I don't know," Gilbert said dismissively. "But the dobos torte and strawberry thing sounds good. Are you sure you like it?"
"Yes," Elizaveta admitted, frowning. "But what do I matter in this? You're not asking me out."
Gilbert gnawed on his lip, staring out into space. "Well, it's a good idea, so I'm sure any girl would fall for it, ja?"
"Sure," Elizaveta said unsurely. "You don't even know how to make a dobos torte, though."
"Sweetie, that's what the internet is for. It doesn't only have gay porn on it."
He received a nice slap in the face with a heavy AP Euro textbook. He batted the book away.
"Anything but that book! I torture myself with that thing on my own already!" Gilbert complained. "Don't you have the recipe?"
"Why would you think I had the recipe?" Elizaveta asked.
"You're Hungarian," Gilbert said simply.
"Oh, is that it?" Elizaveta said sardonically. "And do you have every wurst recipe that ever existed in Germany?"
"Yup, thanks to West," Gilbert said proudly. "Besides, remember back when we were young'uns? You gave me a slice of that chocolate caramel cake whenever you had any in your house."
"It was store bought," Elizaveta confessed embarrassedly. "I never made it in my life."
Gilbert gaped at her. "Are you kidding me? This whole time, I thought you had made that torte with love and friendship, but in truth you were feeding me lies! Literally and figuratively!"
"I never said I made it," Elizaveta snapped, her cheeks reddening. "Not everyone has a mother who can make desserts."
Gilbert smiled wearily. "Yeah, my mother was pretty awesome, wasn't she?"
"Yes," Elizaveta admitted softly. She felt guilty for bringing up Gilbert and Ludwig's mother. She had died only two years ago, the same time Gilbert's grandfather Old Fritz passed away.
"So, let's see," Gilbert said, pressing his slender fingertips together. "There's caramel in the cake, right? I'll grab about a pound of those caramel candies in the store, and maybe a bar of Hershey's for the chocolate part."
"What?" Elizaveta said quickly. "No—not caramel candies. Never caramel candies!"
"Why not? They're caramel!" Gilbert protested.
"They're only caramel flavored! It's practically plastic!" Elizaveta cried out. "Look—how much does this girl mean to you?"
"A lot!" Gilbert blurted out. He stiffened at his own answer and quickly turned away from Elizaveta.
"All right," Elizaveta said, perplexedly. "Anyways, do you want to give her low-quality, disgusting, half-hearted work?"
"I guess not," Gilbert said.
"Then don't get the caramel candies. Or Hershey's Chocolate. You need proper material."
Gilbert furrowed his eyebrows. "Then…how do I get caramel? Is it in a can or something?"
Elizaveta stared at Gilbert. "You get caramel by burning, sugar, you idiot."
"Really?" Gilbert exclaimed, absolutely surprised. Elizaveta slapped her forehead.
"You, my boy, don't know the slightest basics about cooking," Elizaveta groaned. "You're going to poison this girl!"
"I'm not bad at cooking!" Gilbert protested. "Are you any better? Huh? Huh?"
"I most certainly am!" Elizaveta hurled at him. Gilbert leaned back in his bench, crossing his legs and smirking.
"Oh? Then we'll see about that," Gilbert said playfully. "I'll make this dobos torte and when you—I mean, when that girl sees it and takes the first bite, she'll be in seventh heaven and I will laugh in her—your face because I will succeed!"
Elizaveta narrowed her eyes. Suspicion crept in the back of her mind but she dismissed it. It was strange to see Gilbert so passionate about a person other than himself. It was somewhat unfamiliar and provoked her curiosity.
"Do you really like her?" Elizaveta asked. "I don't want you taking her out to the dance and then stomping on her heart right afterwards. Do you really care for her?"
Gilbert's hollow cheeks blushed. He gazed into Elizaveta's calculating green eyes and exhaled heavily.
"Of course," he said with finality.
Something tugged at Elizaveta's heartstrings. She scratched her chest inconspicuously, surprised at the strange twang inside of her. It sort of hurt a little, but she wasn't sure why.
Who was this mystery girl anyways? The one that apparently stole Gilbert's heart and wiped away a good portion of his ego? Elizaveta frowned slightly. What if this girl was bad for Gilbert? What if she was some slut that would only go for Gilbert for his looks and then crush his heart afterwards? Before, Elizaveta would've gladly given flowers to any person who would do such a thing, but now…now it seemed that Gilbert was vulnerable with affection, something she thought she would never see.
Not to mention, Gilbert seemed extremely serious about this girl.
"I want to help," she said automatically.
Gilbert jolted with shock. He nearly fell off the bench.
"You…you what?"
"I am going to help shop for supplies and make the dobos torte," Elizaveta said firmly.
"No!" Gilbert said quickly. Elizaveta raised her eyebrow. Gilbert clenched his teeth in frustration. He plucked acacia leaves off the tree and started shredding them absentmindedly. "I'll be fine by myself. I can do anything. I won't mess up a stupid torte."
"I beg to differ," Elizaveta said loftily. "Hungarian desserts require more than just robotic instructions."
"If I can make a schwarzwälder kirschtorte, I can deal with a dobos torte," Gilbert retorted. "Some Hungarian dessert isn't going to beat me."
"Gilbert, I'm quite sure that there's a difference between a Black Forest Torte and a dobos torte," Elizaveta said. "Must I remind you of the first time you ever attempted a Black Forest Torte? You nearly poisoned Ludwig."
Gilbert chuckled. "That was so much fun. But you've got to admit, it was a pretty good job for a four-year-old." He shook his head and returned to business. "You aren't expecting more funny videos, are you? I'm not going to force West to jump his little Italian friend, if that's what you're desperate for."
"I'm not," Elizaveta said, though it was no secret that she really, really wanted to see Ludwig and Feliciano finally admit their love to each other. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance for me to see you do something for another person. It's a chance I'm not going to miss." And it gave her a lot of time to pester him to death about who he wanted to ask out.
"I'm serious, Eliza," Gilbert said. "I don't want your help."
"Why?" Elizaveta snapped. "Do you think I'm incompetent?"
"No! But what will the girl say when she realizes that I had help making this? That it wasn't created by pure Gilbert awesomeness?"
"She won't find out," Elizaveta groaned exasperatedly.
"Vertrauen Sie mir; sie wird," Gilbert muttered in his native tongue.
Elizaveta squinted skeptically at him. "You know, if you don't agree, that's all good. I'll just go to Antonio or Francis and badger them to tell me who the lucky girl is. Then I can give her a warning."
Gilbert fell out of the bench another time. He frantically jumped to his feet and quickly shook Elizaveta's hand.
"Fine, fine! It's a deal! Just don't talk to those two!" Gilbert said wildly.
Elizaveta flashed a mischievous grin. This was proving to be a very good advantage for her.
"Great!" she said perkily. "How about tomorrow after school? It's a Thursday. When do you want to give her the torte?"
"Friday would be good," Gilbert said, biting the corner of his lip. "That way, by the weekend I'll know if I have a date with her or a date with the Playstation for the dance. So, I guess we buy the stuff after school and then make it right afterwards?"
"Sounds like a plan. The blasted teachers put all the tests for tomorrow, so they won't assign homework, hopefully," Elizaveta pointed out. She pulled her backpack onto her shoulders and stood up, brushing acacia leaves out of her hair. "Thank goodness the AP European History test will be easy, but I have to study for physics. I'll see you tomorrow!"
"Right-io," Gilbert said lightly. Elizaveta grinned and hurried out of the courtyard. Once she was out of earshot, Gilbert groaned and leaned back, running his hands through his pale hair. The only thing that ran through his head was the sound of impending doom.
"Verdammt," he muttered to himself. "Das wird schwer."
I originally was not going to publish this chapter until Thursday, but I just had to do something for Prussia's birthday. Happy Birthday, Prussia!!!
A dobos torte is a Hungarian dessert that is a spongecake with caramel and chocolate buttercream. Sounds yummy enough. And if you guys haven't caught it, Gilbert's schwarzwälder kirschtorte is a Black Forest Torte. It originated from Germany.
So…reverting back to real life situations…I am not too sure how the exchange between my sister and The Dude went, but it certainly wasn't in a courtyard. My sister actually did offer the idea of fortune cookies with the fortunes asking the girl out. In the end, she decided on chocolate covered strawberries in tuxedos and a strawberry shortcake.
Then when it was time to go shopping for supplies, two other girls and I were roped into this…and thus started an extremely epic weekend of fails and more fails.
By the way—I sort of doubt that an acacia tree would be able to exist anywhere outside of its natural habitat (Africa-ish?) but the acacia tree symbolizes something that I COULDN'T let pass. It was just too good. So for the sake of the story, please pretend that acacia trees can grow anywhere…
I really hope I got the characters in character. If you have any friendly advice, please give it to me!
By the way…I got the German from a translator, so it probably isn't accurate. If you put in the translator, you might be confused because I doubt it conjugates very well…