Gil had taken to sitting behind Matt in every class they shared, which Matt wouldn't have minded so much if the Prussian wasn't such a bother. Although Gilbert liked playing pranks on everyone, he seemed to enjoy playing pranks on Matthew the most, and managed to convince himself that he was getting closer to his goal every time the younger boy yelled at him. Luckily for the Canadian, yelling had become less necessary as the days went on. He'd become quite adept at deflecting the albino's tries.

Like in first period Chemistry class that day.

"Hey, Matt," Gil said, coming up behind him and slapping his hands down on his shoulders. Matthew tensed at the contact. He turned slowly to face him, wondering what he was planning this time. Class hadn't even started yet!

"What?"

"Big test this period," he said, grinning. "You ready for it?"

Matthew rolled his eyes. So that was the trick du jour? "Nice try, Weillschmidt."

Gilbert frowned. "How'd you know?"

"For one," Matthew said, walking towards his desk, back facing the Prussian following him. "We haven't even finished the first unit. And secondly, your grin kinda gave it away. I don't think you of all people would be smiling if we had a test." He sat down and took out a pen from his pocket.

Gil ignored the dig at his character and leaned over the other. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders and rubbed his knuckles over his head, giving him a noogie. "You're a smart cookie, Matt! Most people are dumber than you!" Matt just winced and tried to squirm out of the older boy's hold, dropping his pen.

At that moment, the Chemistry teacher walked in, and Gilbert went to sit down. Matt sighed in relief as the teacher strode to her desk, picking out a marker.

"Take out your notebooks, class. Today we'll finish our notes on polymerization . . . "

The Chemistry teacher droned on, and Gilbert turned to talk to the student sitting next to him, Lea, probably trying to coax her into misbehaviour again, like he did just about every Chemistry class. Matthew felt only slightly disappointed that he could concentrate on his notes, and not on the albino sitting close by. Now, if he could only get through the rest of the day without Weillschmidt humiliating him . . .


Ms. Karpusi was beginning to dread going to work in the mornings. She felt this despite the fact that every day was relatively ordinary; nothing particularly terrible ever happened at the school, so to an outsider, her dread seemed unfounded. It was just another morning of work: sort some papers, accept some phone calls, get hit on by her boss . . .

She sighed, thinking of the principal. He was over-excitable, brash, and impulsive, but that same enthusiasm and liveliness was what drew her to him in the first place. That, and his rugged good looks didn't hurt either, as cliche as it was.

"The elections are tomorrow!" Mr. Rome's voice startled Karpusi out of her reveries, and she jerked her head up. She watched as he burst through the door, with a sunny smile on his face that was so wide it forced his eyes shut. "Isn't it exciting?"

"Yeah. Thrilling," the woman said. She kept her eyes trained on her paperwork as Rome jumped up on the desk, much like a cat, grinning at her. Several stacks of papers fells to the floor. He ignored them.

Sadly, this was a normal occurrence in the school office.

"Well?" he said, resting his elbows against the table and putting his chin in his hands. "Aren't you going to say 'good morning' to me?"

"Good morning," she said, flicking her eyes up to meet his. He was staring intently at her, and she looked away. "Uh, I photocopied the permission sheets for the ninth-grader's vaccinations next month. They're in a box on the desk." The Grecian stood up and went to a nearby filing cabinet, opening it and pretending to search for something. Mr. Rome watched her with keen eyes.

"And a good morning to you too," he said, smirking as he crept off the desk. Karpusi plucked a random manila folder out of the cabinet, not noticing the man creeping up behind her.

"Is it too soon?" she said, ignoring him. "Because I think you should put it on the announce – AH!"

The secretary squealed when Rome lifted her in the air. She dropped the folder and flailed a little. The principal just smiled, oblivious to her protests.

"W-what are you doing?" She wriggled in his arms, and tried to punch him. "Put me down!"

"But aren't you tired?" Rome asked, waltzing slightly around the room, not affected by the other's strikes. Ms. Karpusi prayed that no other staff members would walk into the office.

"What?"

Mr. Rome stopped spinning. "You must be tired," he said, staring into her eyes. "Since you've been running through my mind all day . . . "

Karpusi rolled her eyes and finally wriggled out of the other's grasp, landing as elegantly as possible on the floor. "Is that what you're trying now?" she said, smoothing out her skirt. "Cliche pick-up lines? Besides, the day has barely begun."

"Exactly," Rome said, standing with arms akimbo. He seemed quite unperturbed at the rejection. Ms. Karpusi scoffed at him before turning to face the desk, bending to pick up the fallen papers.

"How many times do I have to say it?" The Greek woman straightened up and placed the stacks on the desktop. "I don't make it a policy to date my coworkers."

Mr. Rome stroked his stubbled chin. "So if I wasn't, you would go on a date with me?"

"How about that soccer, huh?" Karpusi said loudly, sinking back into her chair. "Big match coming up." Really, she didn't care much for the sport, but she could pretend if it derailed the uncomfortable line of conversation.

"Oh, yes," Mr. Rome said, beaming, effectively distracted. "Feliciano's playing forward. My boy is so talented!~"

Ms. Karpusi smiled and clasped her hands in front of her, nodding. "He's a good boy, Sir." She stared at her intertwined fingers, avoiding his eyes. "You must be proud."

Rome frowned. "Hey, what did I tell you about calling me that?" He leaned across the desk and took the Grecian's chin in his hand, tilting her head up and forcing her to look at him. She tensed.

"I – You - "

Karpusi was just about to get her voice back when a crash sounded from the back of the office. The two whipped around to find the window shattered, shards of glass splayed across the floor. A soccer ball rolled to a stop next to the desk chair.

"What the . . . ?" Ms. Karpusi picked up the ball, and Rome looked outside. Feliciano was running across the school's front lawn, towards the broken office window, waving his arms frantically.

"Ve~ I'm sorry, Papa!" He leaned in through the gap, looking a bit tired but not at all ashamed. "I was practising before the bell, and I guess I kicked in the wrong direction . . . can I please have the ball back?"

Rome just smiled as the secretary gaped at his son. "That's my boy!" He watched as Karpusi tossed the ball to Feliciano, shaking her head slightly. The Italian ran away without hesitation.

Ms. Karpusi held her head in her hands and sighed before the man turned back to face her.

"I'll get Berwald to board up that window," he said, oblivious to the Grecian's withered look. "And can you call Tino for me? Can't just leave all that glass lying around!~"

"Yeah, I'll do that," Karpusi muttered, picking up the phone. Mr. Rome nodded and made to walk out of the office. He paused at the door, turning to look back at his secretary.

"This isn't over . . . I'm not going to give up!" he said, winking. "And remember what I told you before, Kallisto."

Ms. Karpusi flushed hearing him say her given name. Before she could respond, Rome blew her a kiss and disappeared from the office, closing the door behind him.

Kallisto listened to the door click shut and wondered why she didn't just quit.


Matthew leaned over the soccer pitch railing, eyes following the players running across the school's field. Several students he knew of were kicking the ball around: Antonio, Lovino, and his brother Feliciano were in the red shirts; Vash, Gilbert, and his brother Ludwig wore the blue shirts. He'd been watching nearly all the practises in the past few days, since Lovino asked him out, and had actually talked to a few of the school's players. Lovino, of course, always came to talk to him after the practise, and Matt was glad for the companionship.

"Hey." A voice caught Matthew's attention, and he looked around to find Lovino ducking under the railing, joining him on the opposite side. The practise must have been over already. "You came again?"

"Yeah," Matthew said, toying with the drawstrings on his hoodie. A cold wind ruffled their hair as Lovino came to stand beside him, and the Italian shivered. If they looked, they would've found the other players dashing towards the sheltered dressing rooms, away from the wind. " . . . Did you not want me to?"

"No! Don't be stupid. I . . . do like talking to you." He leaned next to him on the pitch railing. "You're not an idiot, like most people."

"Er . . . thanks."

"It's . . . just that I didn't expect it," he continued, talking in a low voice, "since it's so cold today."

Matt smiled. "The cold doesn't bother me," he said. "I can handle it. And besides, I like watching you play."

Lovino flushed a little, and he looked to the side. Matt had grown used to such reactions from his Italian friend, and actually found it endearing, in a strange way. Neither talked, and for several minutes they stood in silence, just watching the wind rustle in the trees. Lovino, though, looked like he had something on his mind. Matthew gave him a nudge.

"I do mean what I said," Lovino blurted out after a minute, cheeks burning. "Don't - "

He paused, looking in the direction of the school. Antonio, Vash, and Feliciano had returned from the dressing room – having cleaned up – and walked along the path outside, several yards from the pitch. The Spanish one locked eyes with Lovino, some detached look written on his face. Lovino snapped his gaze away, and found Matt looking at him curiously.

"Don't . . . ?"

Lovino grabbed his hand. "Don't go thinking I don't like you," he said, leaning closer. Matthew felt his heart beat faster, and he averted his eyes.

The Italian glanced away from the other, back towards the school path. Feliciano had disappeared, but Antonio and Vash stood rooted in spot on the walkway. Lovino frowned to see his ex-boyfriend talking animatedly to the Swiss, smiling brightly and making elaborate hand gestures. He felt a little gratified, though, to see that Vash still had his usual unimpressed look.

Matthew tugged on his uniform sleeve with his free hand, brows furrowed in concern. "Are you OK?" he asked, snapping the other out of his trance.

Lovino shook his head, his odd curl – identical to his brother's – brushing against Matt's face. "Fine," he said. "I'm fine. I'll see you later." He gave Matt's hand a squeeze before releasing it and walking away, just as Gilbert and Ludwig emerged from the dressing room.

The Vargas boy trudged across the grass towards the showers, passing Antonio and Vash along the way. He heard the Spaniard telling Vash a joke, and the Swiss finally smiled and even laughed a little. Lovino walked faster, bumping shoulders with Gil on his way.

The Prussian frowned. He looked at Matthew, still leaning against the pitch rail, then back at Lovino. He turned to his brother.

"You go on without me," he said, disregarding Ludwig's confused expression to stare back at the Canadian boy. "I'll catch ya later."

Ludwig shrugged and continued along the path, only glancing back once as his older brother made his way towards Matthew. Gilbert didn't stop walking until he stood directly in front of him. He'd seen Matt and Lovino holding hands. This was bad, very bad. How was he supposed to bone him if he was cosying up to other guys?

Matthew looked up and raised an eyebrow. "What do you want, Weillschmidt . . . "

"I wanna know what you think you were doing with that Italian douchebag," Gil said, folding his arms.

Matt scoffed. "D-don't say that! He's not a douchebag!"

Gil looked away, towards the dressing rooms. He was so having it out with him once he came out. "What do you like about him, anyway?"

"Wh - " Matt started. Was Gilbert jealous? "Well," he said, straightening up, regaining his composure. "He's nice to me. Unlike you!"

The older boy whipped back to face him. "I'm nice to you!" he said, scandalized at the accusation that he was anything but.

"Really?" He scoffed again. "What's one kind thing you've done for me, ever?"

Gilbert paused, searching for an answer. Before he could say anything, Matthew cut him off.

"Exactly."

The Prussian sighed and shook his head. This wasn't working out at all. "Seriously, Matt. I don't think you can trust him."

Matthew narrowed his eyes. "You're not my keeper. I can talk to whoever I want!" Before the older one could reply, he turned and began walking away. "And you need to stop sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, eh!" he called over his shoulder.

Gil watched him leave, frowning. "Yeah, well, I take back what I said about you being smart!" he said, shouting so his voice carried over the wind. He spun around, not wanting to hear what the other might say.

The Canadian didn't look back. "Whatever, Weillschmidt!"

Both boys stalked off in opposite directions, both feeling very disappointed in each other.


A/N: I'm glad to see that people are still sticking with this story. I think my readers are more dedicated than I am. Seriously though. I've never finished a long story yet, but I'm really gonna try to complete this one.

Anyway, I'm trying not to make Gil too cruel to Matt, 'cause then he'd just be a victim, you know? And I hate it when people portray Canada as some weak little doormat and nothing else. It's annoying. He has to stand up for himself eventually, and that's what I'm hoping to show.

In the next chapter, we see Gil playing with Matt's curl, the first hint of America/Lithuania, and Antonio's awkward attempts at relating to Vash.