A/N: This will probably be the last time you see such a quick update (school starts tomorrow - yay senior year!). However, the story really begins to find its rhythm from here on out (I think), and Gilbert and Elizabeta's relationship begins to develop.
Also, I'm sorry I've changed my summary, like, five times. I'm really bad at making those, and they're only allowed to be 255 words long - that's practically nothing!
Chapter 4: What He Remembered
Standing in tiny shower cubicle, surrounded by cheaply tiled walls and drenched in lukewarm water (the hot water heater was acting up again), Gilbert irritably forced the brightly cherry-scented shampoo (that he shared with Ludwig) through his tangled, platinum blond locks. Another ghost, another sob story, another freaking load to join all the others he should've stopped carrying ages ago. These people's lives weren't his business, and their afterlives shouldn't have been his business, either. For some reason, he just kept letting them in.
His hands ceased their lathering as he heaved a chest-splitting sigh. He'd always wondered if there were others like him in the world (and there had to be – it wasn't possible that he was the only albino freak-of-nature on the planet), and if they, too, faced the struggles he did. Perhaps these potential "others" had simply learned early on to just ignore the dead and lived in relative ease. Perhaps it was time he learned to do the same.
"Gilbert?" A knock at the bathroom door broke through his thoughts. "Are you in there?"
"Yeah, Lutz." He tied his towel around his waist, stepping out onto the bathmat and shuddering when the cooler air kissed his wet skin. "What'dya need?"
"There's a girl here for you," Ludwig answered. "She's really nice and she says her name is Eliza… Elizabeta. Can I let her in?"
"Shit! Uh… yeah. Let her in." Whipping the towel from his hips, he hastily dried his hair. He'd finally taken the time to shower for possibly the first time in at least three days, and this happened. So much for freaking hygiene.
"Did I come at a bad time?" Elizabeta lifted a thin, arching brow as Gilbert jogged into the sitting room with his shirt sticking to his damp back. "Ludwig said you were in the shower."
"Did he?" The albino cast a look at the boy cowering just beyond the doorframe. "I told him not to tell people that."
"What'd you tell him to say?"
"To fuck off until we're not busy."
"That sounds just like you." She giggled. "God, you haven't changed a bit."
"Well, not all of us are college folks," was the falsely light-hearted response. He said it as though he'd had a choice. "I mean, what're you studying again? Human communications or some other bullshit subject?"
"International relations." Her reply was sharp, as though it had been tattooed to the insides of her eyelids lest she forget. "I'm already pretty fluent in Magyar since my old man's side of the family speaks practically nothing else, so I figure I could at least get a job as an ambassador to Hungary."
"You gonna work out there or over here?"
Elizabeta raised her left shoulder in a lopsided shrug. "Depends I guess. I want to travel and see the world, so maybe I'll go abroad."
"Oh yeah?" He felt his heart sink into a mire of jealousy and irritation. What greater power had decided that she would be allowed just flit causally through life from continent to continent without pausing once to consider the poor, helpless losers who had finally found someone to talk to before said someone died?
"Um… Gilbert?"
Sneaking a glance at the blond boy cowering just beyond the doorway, Gilbert felt a smirk at his lips. "You can come in, Lutz. You met Liz, right? Liz, you remember Ludwig."
She nodded, leaning down to match the child's height and smiling kindly. "Hey there, Ludwig. You might not remember me, but I've known your brother for a long time."
Ludwig nodded silently, gazing shyly at the woman (such a strange creature to be lurking in their living quarters). "Are you Gilbert's girlfriend?"
Mouth falling open with a mixture of horror and embarrassment, the albino whirled to offer an excuse to his old friend only to find her laughing. Ouch.
"Why do you say that?"
"You're the only girl who's ever come here before," he pointed out innocently, clearly oblivious to his brother's wilting pride. "And my brother gets gooey eyes when he looks at you… like they do when they're in love on TV."
"'Gooey eyes,' huh?" Elizabeta snickered, brushing her fist teasingly against the man's bicep. His cheeks burned crimson and he looked away.
"Isn't it your bedtime or something?" Grunting peevishly, he ushered his protesting sibling from the room. "Go on, brush your teeth and get your ass in bed, 'kay?"
"Okay."
As the brothers disappeared down the hallway, their guest took the opportunity to really examine the duplex. The cheap hardwood floors were out on display for lack of rugs, and the sofa seemed ready to cave in. Turning on her heel, she found the walls to be in need of a paint job and the window to be rather dirty, but it only gave a view of a poor neighborhood, a reminder of the boys' current position, when cleaned. All that aside, the residence seemed to offer a faint warmth, a comfortably intimate feel that fit perfectly with Elizabeta's view of the owner.
"Sorry you had to see this dump," Gilbert mumbled as he reentered the room, a hand carding anxiously through his hair in a familiar gesture dating back to their elementary school days. "I'm trying to save up so that we can move into a nicer area, but… well, you know how that is."
When she made no comment, he caught her gaze sheepishly. "I mean, uh, actually I don't know if you know, so…" He cleared his throat.
"How are you, Gilbert?"
Pretending not to catch the prying implications of the simple query, he shrugged, motioning for her to join him in the kitchen with an easy jerk of his head. "Tired, I guess. It was a long day, but I made a few good sales down at the shop."
"You might've mentioned that the stupid thing cost a small fortune," she said sweetly, forcing the words through smiling teeth. "But then again, I guess that's the mark of a true salesman, right?"
"What? My ingenious sales techniques or my sparkling personality?"
"And here I thought we were talking about you."
Gilbert set the electric kettle to work and dug around the cabinets until he found a small box of tea bags and a container of instant coffee. With one in each hand, he turned to his guest with the teasing façade of a high class host. "Which would you prefer, madam?"
"Coffee, please," she laughed. "But really, Gilbert, how are you?"
There was something deliberate in the manner in which he presented his back to her. "Just barely clinging to my sanity. Other than that, life's great. Couldn't be better."
"Maybe you need a girlfriend." Her bright eyes twinkled impishly. Gilbert snorted.
"Who wants to date a guy who's raising his little brother, talks to himself, and works more jobs than he can manage?" He shook his head firmly, as though convincing himself as well as the young woman sitting the kitchen table. "I don't got the time, anyway; I work the nightshift at the hospital three times a week, and when I'm not doing that, I'm trying to catch up on sleep."
"I'm sure you'd make up for it with your 'sparkling personality'."
"Oh yeah, definitely."
They refused to allow their eyes to meet then, choosing instead to silently observe the other until they realized they were both staring and quickly glanced away. Finally, the kettle whistled and saved them from what would have most surely become a heated round of the "How Long Can I Look Before He/She Notices?" game.
"What about you?" Gilbert asked evenly, filling a chipped mug with boiling water. "You got a boyfriend tucked away somewhere? Don't tell me you're still dating that damned, frill-wearing pansy boy…"
"Roderich Edelstein?" Giggling with her nose wrinkled in amusement, Elizabeta shook her head. "I haven't seen him since we graduated."
"Oh yeah?"
"Well, I got a Christmas card from him last year, but…" She shrugged. "He wanted to get married and have kids, I wanted to get out do something with my life. It was pretty obvious that relationship was doomed from the start."
"Aw, and I was just starting to like the guy."
"You swore repeatedly that you would hate his guts until you died and tried to break his fingers with your chemistry book."
Gilbert chortled suddenly at the memory. "That's 'cuz he told me I was an 'uncivilized imbecile who wouldn't have the slightest idea of how to properly use the information in that textbook'."
"And you said-"
"And I said, 'The hell are you talking about? I know how to use this shit,' and brought that sucker down right next to his hand." Sighing happily, he flashed a self-satisfied grin at the pretty brunette across the table. "God, that was fun – I thought he was gonna piss himself."
She hummed, tilting her head to rest her chin atop the heel of her hand. "Do you remember middle school?"
"When we hot glue-gunned all the lockers shut?"
"And the rubber hand from the Halloween store? "
"Ah! I almost forgot about that!"
Elizabeta stirred at the brown mixture in her cup, feeling the rush of nostalgia sweeping through her like a windstorm as she watched her longtime companion bent double with laughter. His distinctive chuckle hadn't changed over the years, though his rascally demeanor had faded somewhat to make room for responsibility and stress. However, she could still read the obstinate air of mischief that glimmered dimly in his weary, blood-tinted eyes. Suddenly it seemed as though he'd been resurrected, brought back to life from the worn, multi-tasking zombie she'd struck with her car barely 24 hours before.
"Hey, Gilbert?"
"Yeah?" He settled into his chair with the traces of a sneer flickering at the curling corners of his thin lips.
"I've missed you."
Though his expression read, "Really? You're not joking?" his spoken sediment was, "I've missed you like I'd miss a kick in the teeth."
"You've always been a masochist, huh?" she teased, knowing that him well enough to take his reply as, "I've missed you, too."
"And you've always been a psycho." Yawning, Gilbert stretched his hands up and back over his head. "So tell me, how've you been, Liz?"
