Arthur Kirkland?

Mathias wasn't sure how to react. Okay, he hadn't been expecting that at all. He tried to recall everything he knew about his British classmate. Arthur was friends with that group of other kids—Francis Bonnefoy, Alfred Jones, and Matthew Williams—none of which Mathias knew that well, save for Alfred. He'd never really spoken to Arthur before, except once at a party in tenth grade when they'd both gotten drunk and toilet papered a tree in the Beilschmidts' front yard.

Lukas and Arthur. Arthur and Lukas. Mathias tried to picture them together, but it was like trying to imagine the sky as a different color. Had they even known each other before? How had this all happened?

Mathias picked the broom back up and continued to sweep, trying to calm the questions swirling through his mind.

What the hell?

"Hey, Gil. Look."

Gilbert closed his locker, turning when Antonio grabbed his arm. "What?"

Antonio jerked his chin, motioning down the hallway. Jeanne was chatting with Bella and Elizaveta, looking completely at ease.

"What?" Gilbert repeated.

"I heard she went for coffee yesterday with that Romanian guy in our English class."

"Vladimir?" Gilbert stared at Jeanne. "Wouldn't have ever predicted that. Seriously, though? It's only the second day of school, and she broke up with Francis, what, a week ago? And she's already going out with a different guy? Ouch."

Antonio agreed. "Yeah, and poor Francis." Antonio paused to consider something. "Hey, Gil! You've been single for a while. Anyone caught your eye?"

"No, you ass. It's only the second day. And we've met most these people already." They began to walk to class, and Gilbert looked over at Antonio. "What about you, you idiot? Huh? Who've you been looking at?"

Antonio turned red. "No one." The statement was pretty unconvincing.

Gilbert elbowed Antonio. "C'mon, Toni. Who is it? You gotta tell me."

"Okay, okay, fine! Keep your voice down. I—"

"Guys."

Antonio and Gilbert both turned at the same time to see Francis hurrying toward them. He looked worse than usual, but better than he did yesterday. There were dark circles under his eyes, but they were faint. At least he looked put-together.

"Morning...?" Antonio said slowly, his green eyes flickering with concern for his friend.

"I'm good, you two. Don't worry about me, okay? What were we talking about?"

Oh, God... Gilbert sighed. "Nothing." He glanced around the hallway quickly, noticing that Jeanne's little conversation group had broken up. Elizaveta had moved a little ways down the hall, where she was grabbing a few textbooks from her locker. "Um, I need to go... get the math assignment from Elizaveta. I'll be right back."

Gilbert hurried away. It was a cowardly move on his part, but to be completely honest, he couldn't deal with any more of Francis' drama. And if Francis found out about Vladimir and Jeanne, even if had just been a casual, friendly hangout... nope. Gilbert felt a little bad, but dammit, he couldn't spend all his time comforting Francis. It was time the man just got over it and moved on.

Hopefully Antonio and Francis didn't know that he and Elizaveta weren't even in the same math class!

"Hey, Liz," Gilbert called out.

Elizaveta turned and smiled. "Good morning! You look tired. Everything okay?"

Gilbert waved a hand. "Sure, sure, good. How about yourself? You're looking pretty bad these days." He jokingly studied Elizaveta's features and shook his head.

"You asshole," Elizaveta replied, but her voice held amusement. "Hey, you heard about Francis and Jeanne, right?"

"Ugh," Gilbert groaned. "I can't talk about this anymore."

The amusement returned to Elizaveta's voice. "Had a rough time, eh? Ah, well, that's fine. Hey, have you seen Matthew around this morning?"

"Who?"

"Gilbert." Elizaveta shot him a look.

"I... oh!" Gilbert remembered the encounter he'd had with his classmate at the Bonnefoys' yesterday. He'd sounded like a rude jerk, and Matthew had obviously noticed Gilbert gaping at him. Not that he'd meant to stare, of course, but Matthew had been quite...

"Aesthetically pleasing," Gilbert whispered.

"What?" Elizaveta asked, then rolled her eyes. "Are you still asleep or something? You're acting really weird."

Gilbert shook his head quickly, but not to express dissent. "I guess I'm just a little out of it today is all."

"Okay, well, I need to find Matthew. He has my math notes—"

"You two are friends?"

"Yeah, we actually ran into each other over the summer, did you know? At the bookstore. I've got a thing for underrated manga, and he's kinda into really pretentious French novels." She saw Gilbert's facial expression and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I could put in a good word for you if you'd like."

"Wh-what?" spluttered Gilbert, his cheeks turning red.

Elizaveta winked. "I know you think I'm stupid, but let's just say I spent enough of the summer reading cliché shōjo and tragically grandiose French romance to recognize the look in your eyes..."

The chemistry teacher turned out not to be the epitome of a perfect teacher, that much was clear. Day two and the whole class was watching a video. Well, sort of, as most people in the class were talking, sleeping, doing work for other classes, or wasting time in general.

Arthur was absentmindedly doodling on a spare sheet of notebook paper. Kiku Honda had one of his textbooks open and he was doing work. Lovino Vargas was scribbling away in a notebook.

Matthew tried to focus on the video, but it was about as exciting as doing the homework he needed to start on.

"Arthur," he whispered. "Are you friends with Gilbert Beilschmidt?"

Arthur looked up from his sketches. "Hmm? A little. Why?"

"Oh, it's nothing." Matthew focused back on the old science film. That morning, he'd managed to find Elizaveta to return her notes, and she'd been with Gilbert. She'd made comments about how she thought he and Gilbert could be good friends. Though it was a bit rude, Matthew's first thought had been, I don't think so. Of course, he had only smiled and nodded and made halfhearted suggestions about hanging out sometime, but it was more out of courtesy than anything.

But Gilbert seemed slightly off. Some of his egotistical bravado was missing, and though Matthew suspected at least some of it was an act, it was still odd to see Gilbert so restrained. Probably just tired.

"You bastards talking about the potato bastard?" Lovino asked from across the table, setting down his notebook. Matthew's eyes flickered across the table, and he saw Lovino's surprisingly neat handwriting. Lovino was... Lovino was writing poetry.

"Hey! I didn't fucking ask you to read it," Lovino snapped, closing the notebook.

"If you're entitled to eavesdrop on our conversation, I think Matthew is allowed to glance at your notebook," Arthur replied sarcastically. "Anyway, neither of us speaks Italian, so it's not like we understand it. And yes, we are talking about Gilbert. Is there an issue?"

"I just hate that bastard," Lovino muttered, clicking his pen.

"Is there anyone in this universe you don't hate?" Arthur exhaled loudly, making sure Lovino heard.

Lovino's head snapped up. "Listen here, asshole—"

"Oh, so you want to—"

"Okay, okay!" Matthew said, interrupting before the conflict could go any further. Shooting Kiku an exasperated look, he tried to calm Arthur and Lovino down. Lovino turned his focus away from Arthur and started at Matthew, entertainment glittering in his eyes. "Why are you asking about the potato bastard, eh?"

Matthew couldn't tell whether Lovino was actually a mean person or if he just acted that way, but he was cautious. "It's really nothing. I was just talking to him this morning."

"Have you got a boyfriend?" Lovino smirked.

Matthew frowned. "Not at all, and please mind your own business." He said it very nicely, and in return, Lovino laughed very meanly.

"Look who's talking," Arthur snorted, immediately coming to Matthew's defense. "All he did was ask one question. But hey, have you ever wondered why you can't find a significant other? Why no one wants to be near you for longer than five seconds? Couldn't be your sunny personality, I know. Isn't it funny how Feliciano is your brother, but he's everything you're not?"

A flicker of hurt crossed Lovino's face, and in that brief second, Matthew knew Arthur had taken it too far, but the expression was gone before anyone else saw it. It was replaced immediately by anger, and Lovino let out a stream of curse words, then continued to write in his notebook.

The mood of the table was suffocating. Lovino had been out of place, but Arthur had also crossed a line. There was no way to say anything. Matthew absolutely could not focus on the video. Taking a cue from Lovino—who was glaring angrily at his notebook and writing faster than anyone Matthew had ever seen—he tried to write out some of his own poetry.

Matthew tried in both English and French, but he was no poet, and all the words sounded wrong.

He erased everything.