Author's Note: Quick apology for taking such a long time, but at least it's up now! I've noticed that Gilbert's POV is much more scattered than Serge's, but hopefully his side will be more organized as the two's backstories start to tie together and are further developed.


Arles looked the prettiest at night when it was lit up for the week of Christmas, the gas lamps warming the streets everywhere, about every window of every building with their curtains open to reveal their own lights shining through. All of the lights flashed onto piles of snow and made them shimmer like crystals. It reflected the growing joy among the townspeople with the holidays coming soon.

The town's open market along the streets was no different in taking part in the merriment. Vendors who normally sold fruits and vegetables switched to candies and baked goods. Some handed out cups of hot cocoa or cider, others soup to fight off the cold. Poinsettias and wreaths decorated every table. The town's center was the stage for carolers, standing right before the large, meticulously decorated Christmas tree.

By himself, Gilbert was able to enjoy the carefree atmosphere. Currently he was dressed in black trousers and a dark green sweater over a white collared shirt, everything covered by a dark gray overcoat, accessorized with a white scarf wrapped around his neck. He should be able to tolerate the cold for a while if he were to take shelter soon after, or at the very least purchase something warm for himself, and he had plenty of options to choose from; he needed it more for his hands, as he had forgotten his gloves back at the school, and they would have been nipped by the cold if not for stuffing them into his coat's pockets.

He at one point entered the nearest cafe along the sidewalk to take a break from his stroll. He removed his hands from his pockets, rubbed them together in a vigorous motion as he let a host lead him to a table he requested for. The place had a crowd of a moderate size, nothing too big nor small, filled with people young and old alike.

Within his peripheral vision from his table were a group of boys he recognized to be from the school, ones who, like him, decided to stay at Lacombrade Academy for the winter break. He recognized two or three from Class B, same as himself, and the rest looked to be upperclassmen. He noticed the number of glasses on their table. As much as he wanted a sip of alcohol as well, it would be best to stay sober for the carriage ride back to the school - that, and he was not yet eighteen, so he would not have been able to order anything strong enough for his tastes on his own in the first place.

Soon a mug of spiced non-alcoholic apple cider warmed the hands wrapped around it, relaxing them until they did not feel as numb as they were growing to be on the way here. They raised it and swirled it slowly, green eyes entranced by the cinnamon stick rotating in the drink. Gilbert, now with his coat folded over his chair, let a few minutes pass before he took a sip. He sighed after he swallowed and silently reveled in the burst of apples and cinnamon on his tongue. The noise about him had been drowned out by the satisfied hum he gave afterwards-

"Is that you, Cocteau?!"

He nearly choked and spit out what he was in the middle of drinking when he heard a shout directed towards him. He turned his head enough so one eye could peek past his bangs and at the group of boys he saw when he first entered the cafe. The ones from his class were staring right back at him and waving their arms. It was obvious it was with the intent of persuading him to come over.

So he did. He only did so because he was not in the mood to argue as of now. Just to soothe his nerves, he brought his drink with him. He already had to take a long sip at the sound of their cheering from his arrival.

"You're here by yourself?" one of them asked. They all seemed bewildered by this idea of being alone, but it was to be expected given it was almost Christmas.

"Everyone was gone, so I decided I'd go out as well," Gilbert said. "It gets boring when you're at school for too long. You all should know that if you're here."

"I'll drink to that!" With an upperclassman's statement, the group raised their glasses and took another sip of their drinks. Gilbert hid his wrinkling nose with another sip of his cider. He could smell the brandy and hard cider from their breaths.

One of them got out of his seat to grab the newcomer's coat and chair from the other table in order to add him into the party, much to his dismay. What does it take to get some peace away from other people around here? Nonetheless, he figured he'd humor them with his presence. They'll learn on their own that having him around isn't worth the trouble.

The upperclassman who initiated the unceremonious toast scooted aside to let him sit down. "So, Cocteau, what're you staying at the school for this time? The past winter breaks since you've been there, you've never gone home."

"My uncle is too busy to celebrate the holidays, as always. I figured I may as well use this time to make sure I don't fall back on my studies."

"He's like that every year, huh?"

"It's not like Monsieur Beau can help it, being such a famous up-and-coming poet and all," another student noted.

Gilbert shrugged. "I'm used to it by now. He's always been this way." He's only been willing to pay attention to me as of recently.

He expected the sympathetic gazes laid upon him. He thought nothing of it. These were people who chose to stay at school on their own free will, whereas he had no other choice but to stay, his legal guardian busy or not.

"Isn't it sad that you can't go home, Cocteau?"

"Like I said, I'm used to it. We both understood how much work he has to take on, how hard it is to maintain his social status. He can't afford to care." He couldn't till now.

A classmate patted his shoulder gently, then retracted his hand. He recalled his first year here when he was eleven and how he was quick to warn others that he was not fond of casual touches. To think at least one of them would have taken this to mind, unless he was reading into it too much. Keeping a fair distance from everyone else has brought the expected disadvantage of being unable to predict how others will act towards him.

"Sounds lonely, but there's nothing to worry about now. You can spend Christmas in the common room at school with us, and we can come back here whenever we like before our break ends. Let's make the most of having the school to ourselves till then!"

The boys joined their drinks in the center for one more toast with a delighted cheer. This time, Gilbert chose to join them, raising his mug to gently clink against the glasses. Pulling away right afterwards to finish the last of his hot cider, he avoided the looks of glee. He'd humor them for now. They know nothing. All of this was only from the good mood Christmas was already bestowing. After this, he'd go back to being ignored, not that he minded. It'll be a nice change of pace from his usual routine of solitary. Even he needs to step out into the light once in a while.


By Christmas evening, Gilbert could not recall the last time he admitted to enjoying the holidays and meaning it. In the morning after Christmas mass, the boys from his class surprised him in their common room with chocolates they had bought in Arles (that he did not eat right away, for he lacked the sweet tooth for them, but he appreciated the gesture). He didn't participate in their games in the snow - it had taken them an extra box of chocolates to bribe him into joining them outside alone, and he only took them in honor of the holiday - though was thoroughly entertained by their antics and complete disregard of the idea of getting sick, and with this he ended up watching them in peace and at one point even acting as a referee for a couple rounds. When evening came they found the chefs at the school had prepared for everyone that remained a small feast. They all gathered at one long table made up of smaller ones, spending a good hour or so partaking in the lighthearted merriment filled with the scent of roasted meats, laughter ringing, and sudden bursts of carols here and there.

Right before he'd entered Room 17, Gilbert was returning from a brief last meeting in the Class B common room that took place after supper, where one of them shared a bottle of brandy he somehow managed to sneak into the school. He himself settled with one glass when he knew well enough that he could finish up to more than three with ease unlike his classmates who were dizzy after a single sip. On the other hand, if he did show off, he would then incite tests of courage in the form of drinking games, and he had no intentions of waking up the next day to the magic of the holidays fading with a splitting headache the way the others would be cursed to. It was nearing ten at night when he got back to his room to get ready for bed. More than enough time was left for him to reflect on not only the day but his surroundings.

As it was in the beginning of the school year and a long time before then, the bed across from his own was empty. There were only two more weeks left of the break before everyone returned for the new semester. He's reveled in his time away from Serge to the fullest and would continue to do so until the end. He wanted the break to be extended for this reason, he could go for much longer without that demon in his life just fine.

That's only wishful thinking, though, he reminded himself. Once he's back, it'll all return to how it was before. He will still be a thorn in my side and no one will ever understand that. Simply imagining that overly saccharine smile sent him shivers, but it was not enough to soil his mood.

The lamps were turned off, blanketing him in the shadows. He did not go to bed right away, instead choosing to stare out the window uncovered by the curtains on the sides. For a time he watched the snow fall, which calmed the last of his nerves for the night, and only then did he make his way to curl up under his bed and fall asleep. He had no dreams this Christmas night, the perfect way to end it.


"Did you miss me, Gilbert?"

"Who do you take me for, Serge?"

Unfazed, the beaming noirette opened his suitcase on his bed so he could unpack. He had arrived earlier this morning alone, having left Pascal back at the Biquet house to stay with his family for the final few days of their winter break. He and Gilbert engaged in a nonchalant conversation since neither of them had anything to do. This was, however, less the start of any sort of comfort they'd find in each other, and more the rediscovery of tolerance in each other's presence. The latter roommate wondered if the spirit of New Year's from the previous week was still affecting him.

He looked to the German language books stacked in the corner of his desk and figured so. After they parted ways for the break, he continued to study German in his free time, having found a use for it other than to know when he was being ridiculed. Besides his studies in Latin and the little bits of English he was taught by private tutors growing up, all he knew was his native language of French, so to have knowledge of another foreign language under his belt would prove to be useful for him in the long run. It has proven to be the most difficult to learn so far, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He could only hope now that his roommate would not get the wrong idea upon seeing them as they were in plain view.

Speaking of which, the very devil was sure to reestablish his presence by closing his luggage rather loudly. "So! How was your break, Gilbert?"

"Adequate, I suppose." Beyond adequate, because you weren't there to ruin it. "... I take that your stay with the Biquet family was enjoyable."

"Yes, indeed! Oh, that reminds me! Pascal's sister claims to know you. She asked for me to tell you she says hello."

"Patricia? To think she'd remember me..." Having only engaged in very light conversations the occasional times they had met by chance on family visitation days in the past, he was surprised to learn she considered herself friendly with him. Not that he minded - it wasn't like she was in any way a friend, more so an acquaintance. "Well, I'll make sure to write to her; it's the least I can do before she comes by in the spring."

"You mean the family visitation days? Karl told me about them and how they take place at least two weeks before our final exams."

"Yes, that's what I was referring to..."

At that time, Gilbert found himself staring idly out the window. It had stopped snowing some time after Serge's return. Light gray clouds filled the sky, but through them came gentle sunlight to reflect on the snow, giving the ground a bejeweled appearance. He could tell by the swaying branches of the surrounding trees that the wind wasn't too bad as of now.

Serge seemed to have figured out where his attention lied, for soon enough he was standing right beside him and doing the same thing. "I'm not one for the wintertime, but I do love the snow when there's daylight. Don't you, Gilbert?"

"As much as I think the same way, I prefer the nighttime."

"I see... Maybe I should stay up some time and see that view for myself. You know how I like to go to bed early, after all."

He said nothing in response to that, eyes remaining glued to the window. His roommate, staying up late? Even when knowing the nature of his relationship with Max Blough, Serge still followed the routines of a proper student, always returning to their room before roll call at curfew, only spending an hour or less right after that to finish homework or study and then retire for the night. He never snuck out, knowing so himself due to being a light sleeper most nights, and somehow he was always awake before their alarm clock would go off.

While he hated to admit it, he did feel a slight pang of jealousy. They had almost the exact same class schedule and yet Serge's efforts were much more profound, as if it was all natural to him. His studying and sleeping habits were ideal at their age in spite of their graduation still being a couple years away. Meanwhile, in comparison, he himself would study until it was close to midnight at times and still be in the middle of the pack when it came to passing grades.

"... Serge..." he uttered, too soft to hear even with the two standing mere feet from each other. For now, they weren't enemies. He figured he could talk to him as a fellow classmate. That alone should be a satisfying way to coexist. "Serge... Can I-"

"Pascal knows."

... What?

The blond tore his gaze away from the window to focus on his roommate, who had replaced his full smile with a thin line for a grin. He had an index finger twirling a raven curl over and over, a flicker of an underlying emotion coming to light up his own eyes. It was plain to see that he was amused by the other's reaction. Bringing something like this up now was intentional.

"Really... he knows?" he slowly replied. "He knows... that you mean to have the rest of this school fooled into believing you're some saintly student, that you're involved with Blough."

"Yes."

"He knows that you've been lying to him and Karl for the past four months now."

"Yes, and he took it quite well, contrary to whatever you may be thinking."

And he was indeed thinking about what would be the most appropriate reaction in this case - an outburst of some sort about how misleading he's been, an initial inability to handle the truth. But, this was Pascal Biquet they were now talking about, and that young man was nowhere close to being that predictable. A realist, he must have given an enlightened hum at best.

"Does he plan on telling Karl?"

"No, I want to tell him myself someday, just not yet. He's a very close friend, yes, but he's too attached to the Church's teachings that he would most likely have a heart attack if I told him as suddenly as I did with Pascal."

Gilbert was surprised with himself - he didn't even have the urge to narrow his eyes at him. He was overtaken by a strange feeling concern. Whether it was for Pascal, Karl, or how this would relate back to himself, he couldn't point it out even if he tried.

"You say it was sudden... How did it happen?"

"Why do you think I'll tell you, Gilbert?"

"Because you wouldn't have mentioned the nature in which you told him if you weren't planning on giving me details in the first place, Serge."

There was that mischievous gleam in those deceitful doe eyes of his, a very familiar look after the time they've spent together. "Fine, I'll admit that you're right about that...

"His family threw a party the night of Christmas. Pascal and I retired early to be alone after he put his little brother to bed, but his mother let us share a bottle of wine in his bedroom. We didn't drink much, especially on his part, just enough to let us wind down for the night. We started talking about marriage and about the necessity of love between two people to make a marriage work... Then I kissed him."

He stopped playing with his hair, moving back to sit on his bed and thus breaking their eye contact. "I blamed it on the alcohol, but he was able to tell I wanted to see his reaction in that moment. That's when I told him everything, and in the end, he didn't yell at me or scowl at me, not like how you did." Nothing in response. "All he did was tell me that if Max and I ever break up, I can't count on him to cry to; that, and I'm allowed to ask him for another kiss in the future as long as he gets to be there when I finally tell Karl."

... I see, so that's your limit. You don't mind me or your friends knowing about this, but anyone else is out of the question. The blond sensed the air in the room grow heavy as he could practically feel that grin curl into that fiendish smirk. Who was he to think that they would ever be true roommates? He was oblivious when he thought so upon their first meeting, and to know what face laid behind that mask should have decimated that ideal. He disliked cold weather yet he'd much rather be outside than in here any longer.

So, he did just that. He left his spot before the window to pick up his jacket and scarf, then proceeded towards the door. Upon being inquired as to where he was leaving their room for all of a sudden, he said nothing... at first.

"Confession. No need to fret, though; I won't be saying anything about this." Even if I speak the truth, anyone would take your words over my own anyways.


Again, Gilbert regretted not making sure his gloves were in his jacket pocket prior to leaving the room, but it was already too late to go back for them. By the time he realized he forgot them, he was standing in front of the entrance to the cathedral. The doors were unlocked yet remained closed to keep the winter wind from blowing out the candles inside.

He was tempted to leave. This was the last place he wanted to be. He had actually wanted to find some shadowy place and stay there for a while. Knowing Serge, though, he wouldn't be allowed to find any solace now that Pascal knew, so he had to compromise. At least here, as uncomfortable as he always was whenever he'd pass through those doors, he had a better chance of being alone with his thoughts until their school's priest would invite him to confession.

The priest wasn't busy this time, unfortunately. He was finishing up lighting all of the candles when Gilbert opened the doors wide enough to let himself in. They made eye contact, the former then nodding his head in the direction of the confessional booths to which the latter began to make his way towards. He expected the Bible sitting on his side of the wooden counter, waiting for someone like him to rest his hand upon it. He secluded himself within the booth while a quiet sigh left his lips.

Last time he voluntarily came for confession, it was almost a year ago, in the springtime...

"I repent everything!"

He took a seat by the counter, where the priest was sitting in the divided booth beside him.

"God can strike me dead for all I've done and I won't mind it! Just please... please..."

A pale white hand - remaining steady, unlike how it was during his last confession - was placed on the Bible.

"Please... tell me it's not too late for me start my life over... I want to overcome this!"

Closing his eyes, for he refused to look in the eye of this man who has heard him sob before, he readied his heart.

"I don't need to be forgiven, not as long as I can keep myself away from that man!"

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."


Author's Note: This wasn't my ideal ending point for this chapter, but I think this is a good segway into Gilbert's backstory, which is going to be the main focus for next chapter. For now, I hope you all enjoyed this, and I'll make sure to not take so long this time!