Four pills a day. Hours of hallucinations. Hours of rocking silently in the corner, nails digging into his skin, adding to the many blemishes already on it. Red marks, cuts, bruises of self-abuse, fingers running through his hair and gripping it as a nervous reflex. Bottles of water, denying food, shirt drenched with sweat, barely hearing his brother's voice as he was zoned out, not until the medicine kicked in or he passed out.

Gilbert hardly remembered his first night in town. He had flashes of lights as Ludwig drove him home, and he remembered pressing his palms to his eyes as a harsh headache pierced him, wanting to block out every sound. He remembered Ludwig half-dragging him into the house and Ludwig having to force pills down his throat when he denied them. He remembered breaking out in a cold sweat as the headache continued, and clawing at his own skin as the hallucinations continued.

He hardly registered Ludwig moving around him, shifting boxes, putting things away. He hardly noticed when he clawed his scalp hard enough for blood to come to his fingertips. He barely registered anything.

And he passed out in the same corner he had sat in for three hours.

When Gilbert woke up, his pills were waiting for him. He was lying on the couch, which he didn't remember lying down on. Then again, he didn't remember...Anything, really. The bottle of water was already open for him so he wouldn't strain himself trying to open it. He felt weak and starved.

Ludwig spoke nothing of last night. They never did when another episode happened. Instead his younger brother just suggested going into town for breakfast. Just after Gilbert took his anxiety pills.

Gilbert sighed in front of the bathroom mirror, looking at his reflection. The bags under his eyes were much more attention-calling due to his pale skin, and scabs had formed where his nails dug into his skull earlier. His hips and ribs were skinny and bruised easily on the too-soft flesh. He looked awful, but he was well used to it. After washing his face, Gilbert changed into cleaner clothes-Black shirt, jeans, a red jacket.

"How are you feeling?" Ludwig asked Gilbert when he stepped out of the bathroom, which was currently completely empty except for a towel and a half-used roll of toilet paper.

"Fine, West," Gilbert said, shooting a smile at his brother. The drugs were slowly doing their work, though he wasn't sure how he would feel in public at the moment. The brothers exited the house just in time to see the girl from the night before, Elizaveta, making her way up the stone path, wearing a knitted pink beanie over her brown hair and sporting a magenta jacket and white scarf in the harsh wind. The brothers were amazed about how cold it was already.

"Oh! Hello," Elizaveta said loudly over the wind, extending a hand out to Ludwig, "Remember me last night?"

"Ja," Ludwig nodded, extending his hand out well and shaking the Hungarian's, "This is my brother, Gilbert."

"The drunk one," Elizaveta said. Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"I'm thrilled to find that's how you remember me."

"I don't think I asked for your name last night," Elizaveta's smile was wide and her green eyes were bright.

"Gilbert, though I was probably too out of it to say anyways," Gilbert said with a smile as well. On the inside he was still a little wary of strangers but the Xanax had calmed him down.

"Well, pleased to meet you Gilbert," Elizaveta dipped her head slightly before turning to face Ludwig, whom she assumed was the older brother, "You're the older brother, ri-?"

"Nein, that's Gilbert," Ludwig nodded to Gilbert. Elizaveta looked a bit shocked and blinked, before smiling and turning to Gilbert,

"Well, Gilbert, would you mind if I showed you around town?"

Gilbert glanced around, and his stomach rumbled, reminding him how hungry he was. He shook his head before saying,

"I don't mind, but can we get something to eat first?"

"Of course," Elizaveta suddenly grabbed both of their hands and began to drag them away, grinning to herself. Ludwig stumbled and caught himself, but Gilbert wasn't so lucky-He tripped and would have landed on his face if Elizaveta had yanked him back onto his feet and nearly pulled his arm out of his socket.

"You're-er-very eager," Ludwig said, "But we have a car, you know."

"This is a small town. You walk, not drive. Logic."

The brothers had no other choice but to let themselves be pulled along by the surprisingly strong bartender, stumbling a little s she enthusiastically led them into town and to a diner she knew that served delicious waffles. Past houses and trees they went, not slowing down until they entered town, which was actually quite busy in the early morning. Elizaveta beamed as she led them to the Belgian Cafe.

Inside, it smelled heavenly of maple syrup and waffles. There were only three waiters but they seemed to be handling the jam-packed diner quite nicely- A tall woman with fluffy brown hair and a green ribbon, bright green eyes. A much shorter young man who could be described as a 'pretty boy' with a cross hair-clip and light blond hair, and a woman with silvery hair and large breasts.

"Good mor'ing, Liz!" The woman with the hair ribbon called, waving her hand cheerily, "And good mor'ing to your friends, too! How can I help ya?"

"A booth, please," Elizaveta said kindly, "Or a table, if you don't have any."

"Table it is, then," The woman said, and gathered up three menus, napkins, etc., and waved as another customer walked in, "Good mor'ing, Lili!"

The trio was led to a table where there actually turned out to already be napkins, so the woman discarded them into her apron pocket and instead placed menus all around. Gilbert felt his heart beat elevate at the sight of all the people but kept his focus on his menu, trying to take away his nervousness by tapping his fingers on the table as he sat down. Ludwig noticed but said nothing except,

"How are you feeling, bruder?"

"Marvelous," Gilbert said, eyes fixed on the menu, "Splendid. Excellent."

"And how would you describe the morning?"

"Jolly. Nice. Amazing."

It was a game they had come up with a few months ago. Ludwig would ask a question and Gilbert would say many synonyms in reply. It helped with his mood and take his mind off of the surrounding people. Most people never questioned when they did this, but when someone did, they both stated it was an inside joke. Gilbert flipped through the menu to find it was mostly waffles, but occasionally, he spotted things like pancakes and French Toast. Deciding he wanted French Toast, Gilbert tossed the menu onto the table as Ludwig said,

"How's the weather?"

"Gray. Dreary. Cloudy." Gilbert closed his eyes, "What's the word, I can't remember?"

"Downcast?"

"Yep."

Elizaveta raised an eyebrow as she watched the conversation between the two but chose to say nothing out of politeness. She already knew what she wanted (home made Belgian waffles with extra strawberries and a side of over-easy eggs, please. Also maybe a side of coffee, black.) and had no need to flip through the menu, though she did anyways, as she felt that staring at the German brothers was quite rude.

Gilbert felt his heartbeat escalate once again and thought to himself silently that he should have taken three pills instead of two. Luckily, his prescribed bottle was in his jacket pocket. One of them, anyways. He had two regular pockets on the outside of his jacket, but four on the inside of it. Most of his pills were in one, the remaining in another, money in a third, and his cellphone in a fourth. What? He wasn't going to be carrying his valuable stuff on the outside of his jacket.

Gilbert could a.) take the pill with his drink when it arrived and say it was for headaches or b.) excuse himself to go to the bathroom. Deciding the latter, Gilbert excused himself and walked over to where he assumed the bathroom was, clenching his fists inside his pockets as he did so. His heart was pounding every time he brushed against someone and sweat was already starting to break out. Everybody seemed to be staring at him. Watching him. Gawking at the skin-and-bones young man with red eyes and silvery-white hair. Watching wanting to pick him alive wanting to shred him to bits wanting to watch his guts spill wanting to-

Gilbert blinked and he was back at the table. Ludwig was chatting to Elizaveta and their menus had been taken up. He assumed he had already taken his extra pill and ordered. Gilbert blinked several times and brought his palms up to his eyes, rubbing in circular movements. He had moments like that. When everything seemed shitty, when his pulse was too quick and his blood was rushing and his mind was racing and everything seemed to be going down the fuckhole, he would blink and he would be two hours ahead from his last memory. Blanked out. Brain dead. Sometimes it was only a few minutes. Another time, he remembered it being his old friend Ludolf's funeral, on December eighth. The next thing he remembered, he was unwrapping a new phone given to him by his brother on December 25th.

He had told Ludwig about whenever he blanked out and Ludwig knew what to look for and how to recognize when he did. Ludwig's eyes flickered up to meet his to see his brother rubbing at his head and looking bewildered and he knew Gilbert had had another one of his blanks.

"Brother..." Ludwig said to get his attention. Gilbert blinked at him hazily and let out a half-mumbled "what."

Oh man. He was seriously out of it this time. Whatever had happened...Ludwig leaned forward on his elbows and rubbed his temples, feeling an oncoming headache approaching. Oh god. Why did he and his brother have to be put through this? And if only Gilbert would talk. If only Gilbert would ever say what was wrong. They knew he was withholding information. They knew it.

Elizaveta frowned at Ludwig before glancing at Gilbert. The boys were hiding something, she knew this much. Liz could usually read people like a book and crack them open like an egg, but she sensed there was something really fragile going on here. If she poked around, she could break something. She watched Bella leave the diner (her shift was over and the others were coming in) and waved good-bye as the clock struck noon. She decided against saying anything to the boys, anything at all, but made a mental note to surely ask later. Or to at least ask Feliciano if he would find out anything about Ludwig-She had been talking to him and the German had plans to go to the college nearby, the same as Feliciano.

"French Toast with a side of hash browns, home made Belgian waffles with over-easy eggs, and four-stack sugar pancakes with bananas," A man's voice cut through everybody's thoughts, and Elizaveta looked up, smiling. Lukas had left already (his shift had ended with Bella's, as well as Yekaterina's,) and the only other man that worked here was-

"Hello, Mattie!"

Matthew beamed at his friend as he set down her plate in front of her. At the sound of Matthew's voice, Gilbert felt like his head was being stabbed and it took Ludwig a moment to realize who he was. Matthew turned his attention to Gilbert, black coffee in hand, and the moment the Canadian laid eyes on the albino the mug fell from his hands and crashed to the floor, and the other hand holding Ludwig's plate wobbled and the pancakes nearly slid off.

Their eyes locked onto each other and both just about had a heart attack for entirely different reasons. Matthew's last memory of Gilbert was on good terms-A slightly tearful farewell, a peck on the cheek, and he had been off to a new town. He had started college and got a girlfriend (Yekaterina) and lived a nice life.

Gilbert's last memory of Matthew was miserable. Among everything that was happening, and his long-time crush just had to move away. He had spent the following months in agony, nearly starving to death, taking medication and trying his hardest to not think of his best friend who could be thousands of miles away for all he knew.

So when they saw each other, it was a Black Day Parade of raw emotions. Good and bad. For Matthew, it was the joy of seeing an old friend again. For Gilbert, every emotion he felt in high school-all of the bad ones-came crashing in on him until he nearly felt like suffocating. His hand trembled and he had to clench the edge of his seat.

"Gilbert! It's so good to see you!" Matthew looked ready to hug Gilbert, but when he saw the albino was just staring at him, pupils dilated, breathing heavy, terrified, miserable, agonized, he froze, before saying, "Oh shit."

Elizaveta stood up and payed for their meal, feeling the need to excuse herself here. This looked personal. If there was thing Elizaveta was known for, it was sensing the mood, and right now, the mood was awkward and this was between the Beilschmidt brothers and Alfred Jones's little brother, Matthew Williams.


Elizaveta walked down the street, hands in her pockets, making her way downtown. She was going to the cafe.

Upon arrival, she had to squeeze in through the door, as the cafe was currently jam-packed like the diner. Feliciano was at the counter with Francis helping out, both wearing aprons and serving drinks quickly and professionally. Elizaveta watched them work through their rush hour and examined the customers as they came and went. There was Sadiq, of course, her boss, who always got a coffee at this hour, and there was Bella and Yekaterina, just leaving-They always got coffee after their shifts ended. Lovino of course stopped by on his lunch break and Lukas Bondevik ordered three coffees (all for himself, may she add). Arthur Kirkland and Cameron Kirkland (bickering as usual, she presumed) came and went. Finally, when the store was down to only two customers (Vash and Lili Zwingli, and they didn't look like they would be leaving anytime soon) Elizaveta approached the counter.

Francis leaned against it, relaxing and unleashing the tension in his shoulders as Feliciano began to make Elizaveta's preferred drink as she pulled seven dollars and ninety-five cents from her pocket to pay for it. After handing it to Francis and watching him place it accordingly into the cash register, Elizaveta let out a long sigh and said,

"I took the new boys out for breakfast."

"How did it a-go?" Feliciano asked pleasantly as he slid her drink across the counter. Her hand flew out to grip it just in time before it flew off the edge and she gave a smile at the smug look on Feliciano's face before sipping it. After a few moments of enjoying the deliciousness in front of her, Elizaveta said,

"The brothers and Matthew Williams know one another."

"They know Mattie?" Francis asked instantly, leaping onto the counter and crossing his legs Indian style, balancing his elbows on his knees and leaning towards Elizaveta with a look of interest on his face, "Mon dieu, what do they know about mon cousin?"

"I don't know, I didn't stick around," Elizaveta sighed, flipping her hair out of her face and pulling a few unlucky strands that had gotten caught in her mouth, "But the moment was pretty intense, guys."

"What are their names?" Vash's voice asked from across the room, and the three glanced over at the blond man and his adopted sister.

"Ludwig," Elizaveta said after a few seconds, "Ludwig and Gilbert Beilschmidt."

There was a silence so thick you could slice through it with a knife before Vash peered down at his cup, examining the contents of it before muttering,

"Interesting. Very interesting."

Elizaveta and Feliciano exchanged looks while Francis shifted slightly before Feliciano said,

"What?"

"Nothing," Vash said with a shrug, before getting to his feet and taking his little sister's hand, "Come on, Lili."

The fourteen year old girl stared up at the three of them with her large, empty eyes. Elizaveta smiled and waved at her and the boys bid farewell in their respective languages. Vash walked her to the door, yet she continued staring back at them, a blank look on her face, as if she was brain dead to the world. Vash continued leading her away.

"There's something wrong with the child, I swear," Francis sighed the moment the door closed after the Zwingli's.

"Well, it's no secret, is it?" Elizaveta sighed, running her hands over her face and looking into her cup as well. After a moment of studying it's color she sipped from it.

"I just a-wonder what," Feliciano sat at the bar stool behind the counter and the three of them sat in complete silence for a few minutes, pondering on the mystery of Vash Zwingli and his estranged adopted sister, before Feliciano clapped his hands together loudly and got them out of their stupor.

"So. These Beilschmidts. What are they-a like?"

"Well," Elizaveta thought about it for a moment before saying, "Ludwig is very tall. And blond. With these Icee-colored eyes. He seems nice enough, though a little obsessive compulsive, if you know what I mean."

"I know what you mean" came from the two sitting across her. Anybody who was anybody knew that Rhys Kirkland was the biggest OCD maniac in the whole town.

"He's pretty muscular I guess. Like, Alfred Jones and Mathias whatsit muscular."

Feliciano whistled through his teeth.

"And what about Gilbert? You said there was two, right?" Francis asked, cocking his head to the side with interest. Elizaveta froze for a second, wondering exactly how to describe the older brother, before saying,

"Well...He was skinny. Like, unhealthily skinny. And he looked so tired. And he's albino, and, I guess, if he had a bit more meat on his bones and slept a little, he would be good-looking."

"Albino? Huh, he sounds interesting-a already," Feliciano beamed.

"I couldn't really tell much about him. At first, he seemed like an...Okay kind of guy, but once we got to the diner, he was really out of it. Distanced. He stood up and went to the bathroom and when he came back he was all happy and talking and stuff. He kept saying he was awesome. But after a few minutes he seemed really out of it again," Elizaveta conveyed her confusion by swirling her drink around in it's cup with her straw, "And that's when Matthew came with our food and everything happened."

The two stared at her for a long time and Elizaveta just sipped her drink and stared back. They were all thinking the same thing-What was up with those two? Because the only people they could think of that could relate to Gilbert was-

"What else?" Feliciano said hurriedly before the thought could hit the three of them, not wanting to think about it, "What else?"

"Well...Ludwig wants to go to the college around here," Elizaveta said, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples at the thought of Gilbert Beilschmidt being another...No.

Francis's smile was strained-the only sign that he, too, got the memo-and they discussed random things for a few minutes before Elizaveta's phone buzzed. It was from Roderich.

After checking the message, she gave a roll of her eyes, an irritated noise, and stood up. She left the cafe, texting her boyfriend rapidly, and, with another roll of her eyes, made her way to his house.