Chapter Four
"There are three types of love: mutual, unrequited, and non-existent. Those who find love are fortunate. Out of the many things that could have happened, out of all the chances and the probability, they found it against all odds. And the only people who are ever jealous of those loving bastards are the ones cursed with a one-sided affection. They will yearn, even beg, but nothing will ever happen because chance was not on their side. The stars weren't aligned and all that crap. And the last type of love is more of an ignorant one. Not knowing what it's like, to feel so happy and content and complete, is really the only way to feel like you're not broken. After all, how can one long for the feeling when they have never felt it? And therefore, it is a love for gratitude of never having been hurt."
"Loviiiinooooo," sighed Gilbert. "How'd you ge' so smart?" He was resting his head on the bar counter, smelling spilled alcohol and stench from the last asshole who passed out there.
"I got it from some book Antonio got me for my birthday."
"Sounds depressin'."
"The bastard really doesn't know how to pick presents. You'd think I'd taught him a thing or two about how to treat a lover. Jesus Christ, he's useless."
"Ja. Bu' you love 'im, don't chya?" he slurred.
"I'm cutting you off," decided the young Italian, snatching away the beer mug from Gilbert's cold fingers. "Give me your keys, too."
Gilbert suddenly took offence to that. "Whyyyyy? I c'n take it! I'm not savin' face, princess." Just as Lovino was about to pick up the phone, Ludwig, Antonio, and Feliciano entered through the bar doors.
"It's about fucking time you guys made it," he snapped.
"What's he doing here?" inquired Ludwig, walking over to his brother's side. "You said you weren't coming to dinner, brother."
"He arrived about half an hour ago," explained the Italian bartender. Lovino shot a vicious glare to the Spaniard. "What's this about free drinks for two weeks?"
"He won a bet," shrugged Antonio. "It's nothing serious, cariño."
"Don't 'cariño' me. That'll set us back months, knowing how this fucker drinks."
"How much has he had?" demanded the younger German.
"I just cut him off. He started slurring and he wouldn't give me his keys."
"Good thing we got here on time then," said Feliciano proudly.
"I'm sorry, but if this is the case, I'm afraid I'll have to ask for a rain check on that dinner," said Ludwig disappointedly.
"No te preocupes, hombre," said Antonio. "We'll wait until next time."
Ludwig helped his elder brother stand up from the bar. "Thank you for looking out for him," he said to Lovino.
"What the fuck else was I gonna do?" was the tart reply.
"I'm sorry, Feliciano, but could you get the door?"
"Ve~ Sure thing!"
After a seemingly endless struggle, Ludwig finally managed to strap Gilbert into the passenger seat.
"Yer always takin' such good care 'f me, bro," garbled the elder brother. "I love you, man…"
"Ja, ja. If you mean that you wouldn't be trying to kill yourself by destroying your liver."
"Meh. I 'nly need one 'f 'em."
"I think you mean your kidney." Ludwig sighed, brushing his hair back. He turned to Feliciano and said, "I'm sorry about dinner, but I have to take him home."
"Ve~ It's okay. I understand. Maybe next time."
And out of the drunken corner of his eye, Gilbert thought he saw Ludwig kiss the new Italian intern on the cheek. He was so hammered that he wouldn't remember it in the morning, though. He dozed off without a second thought crossing his mind.
ӜӜӜ
Somebody's cell phone was ringing, and it was doing nothing to help his raging headache. "Turn that fucking thing off!" he exclaimed into his pillow.
"Relax, Gilbert," said Elizabeta as she answered the phone. "You've reached Gilbert Beilshmidt's office, how may I help you?" She paused. "This is a business number, Sadiq," she whispered. "Yes. Yes I did. Thank you for the flowers, they were lovely." She glanced at the hung over Gilbert, who was eyeing her suspiciously. "I'll call you back later. My boss is having a little bit of a…crisis… Okay. I'll see you tonight."
Gilbert let out a gentle laugh, though the throbbing in his head wanted to make him do anything but. "I told you you'd hit it off."
"No you didn't."
"I said you two looked great together."
"I wish I could say the same about you," stated Elizabeta, tucking away her cell. "What were you thinking last night?"
"I wasn't."
"Do you have any idea how worried you make us? All of us?"
Gilbert rolled onto his side, back facing his assistant.
"Please be honest with me, Gil. I think you owe me that much."
"Just lemme sleep, Eliza."
"You trust me, don't you? How long have you known me?"
"Too long."
"Since we were kids. I've never told anybody any of our secrets, Gil. You know that. If something's bothering you…"
"I'm fine," reiterated Gilbert.
"No you're not. If you were fine, you wouldn't have gotten drunk so easily. You promised us you wouldn't drink again. You have no idea how much I have to get Antonio and Lovino to babysit you while you're there!"
"Goddammit, Eliza, leave me be!" he exclaimed, sitting up a little quickly. "I'm not okay, but it doesn't matter if I tell you or not, 'cause either way I'm fucked."
Silence.
"Just tell me, Gilbert. Please."
More silence. There were birds chirping outside, calm and carefree.
"I think I'm in love," he finally said. His voice was barely above a whisper.
"Oh? That's all?"
"What do you mean?"
"You've never been denied before. I'm sure she'll come around."
"That's the problem."
"Hm?"
"It's not a she I'm talking about."
Elizabeta looked puzzled. "We're talking about… a guy?"
"Please don't judge."
"I'd never judge, sweetie. I think that's great!"
"You do?" he asked skeptically.
"Welcome to the twenty-first century, you dolt. So what's the problem? Who is he?"
"You have to promise not to do anything stupid."
"Why would I do such a thing?"
"Promise."
"I promise," she rolled her eyes.
"Roderich Edelstein."
Silence. She took a long hard moment to think. The name sounded familiar. And just like a speeding train, it hit her. "Holy cow!" she exclaimed. Gilbert's head throbbed at the high pitch. "Edelstein, as in the Edelstein?"
"Yes."
"You're right. That's a problem. Where'd you two even…? Oh, Gott. At the meeting, right?"
"Sure…"
She let out something close to a squeal.
"You're freaking me out," admitted Gilbert with a perplexed expression on his face.
"Really. I think it's great. So you care about him?"
"I… guess I do. I mean, it's not like I think about him all the time. He just… I feel happier."
"Then why were you drinking yourself to death?" snapped Elizabeta, suddenly serious.
"We had a… fight. I think."
"What do you mean, 'I think'?"
"I asked if he wanted to have dinner. Like, what normal people do, and he flipped out."
Elizabeta blinked, and then blinked again. "That should have been a big deal."
"Well… We didn't exactly start with more conventional methods."
"You… slept with him before the actual date?" Her eyes were scrutinizing.
"Maybe."
She gave off an exasperated sigh. "You're an idiot."
"And you said you weren't going to judge."
"It's not judging if it's obvious," frowned the brunette.
There was silence again, save for the loud ringing in Gilbert's ears. He suddenly remembered why he promised never to drink again, though last night's circumstances called for a little difference in his routine.
"You like him," she sighed. It was a statement, not a question. "You wouldn't have made yourself a drunken asshole for nothing. But I can see why he supposedly 'flipped out.'"
"Oh?"
"I'm sure the public wouldn't mind all too much what your sexual preference is, but it's really not the consumers we have to be worried about. It's more of his family, I suppose?"
"I'm listening," he said, sitting up straighter.
"The Edelstein's are, as a family only, very conservative. Very few people know them personally. Marriages, it's rumoured, have been arranged for the last five generations. Being seen with somebody, unrelated to business, isn't a valid option, let alone coming out of the closet. In addition, I heard that his father is actually quite homophobic."
"Ah," nodded Gilbert sadly. "Well, there you have it." He lay back onto the mattress, relaxing his aching neck. He heaved a sigh. "Fuck."
Elizabeta looked down to her lap, folding her fingers together. "Do you like him?"
"Hm?" he said, not having heard.
"Do you like him?" she repeated.
"Obviously."
ӜӜӜ
He had been in the shower for twenty minutes already, his body thoroughly soaked. Any longer and Francis might have been enticed to make a few snide comments. But to hell with it, thought Roderich. The sound of rushing water seemed to clear his thoughts, and that was exactly what he wanted.
It was just a shame it wasn't working.
"No son of mine will go about kissing other boys," his father had shouted. The entire house could hear it, all ten personal servants included, which was astounding considering they were all the way down on the first floor in the lobby.
"But I never–"
"Enough! Send him away. I don't want to see him here ever again."
Young Roderich clenched his fist, heat rising from his cheeks. He had never been so embarrassed before. His father never spoke to him this way, and during most of the year, they never spoke at all. It was just his luck to have his father angry during his visit back home. Roderich glanced over at Vash, who had remained silent the entire time, stoic as usual. They left the room together in a quiet shame.
"I'm sorry," said the young blonde once the doors were safely closed behind them.
"Don't be," said Roderich with a shake of the head.
"We were only holding hands."
"I know."
"Are they going to send me away?"
Roderich felt his stomach knot. It was definitely probable, considering all his father had to do was fire them and forbid them from entering the grounds.
"It'll be okay. I promise," said Roderich with a hopeful heart.
He had been optimistic once, almost foolishly so.
Roderich closed his eyes as the water poured over his face. The heat nearly burned his delicate skin, but left a refreshing tingle once he shut off the shower. He stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist and snatching another to pat down his hair.
"I'd like to very much take you out to dinner some time," said Gilbert.
His heart had leapt in his chest. The way he had said it was what made Roderich feel so guilty. It had been sweet and gentle, maybe even a little shy. Maybe he should have given the poor guy a chance. He sat down at the edge of his bed, feeling the softness of the bedcovers under his fingers.
There was a knock at his door.
"Roderich?" called Vash. He entered, not entirely surprised that the Austrian wasn't fully dressed yet. "How long do you expect Tea Lead to wait for you? The meeting's in half an hour."
"I know."
Vash showed no emotion; though Roderich was sure he rolled his eyes a little. The Swiss walked over briskly, always appearing as though he had a purpose. He quickly grabbed the towel around Roderich's neck and started to dry the brunette's damp hair. "You're going to catch a cold," he said indifferently. Roderich sat still until Vash was finished.
"Things haven't changed, have they?" asked the Austrian.
"What do you mean?"
"You're still taking care of me."
"You can hardly be considered responsible for your wellbeing," admitted Vash with a slight nod. "I trust you can dress yourself, though."
"Mm," was the dull response.
Vash finally frowned at Roderich, concerned. He was a little flushed in the cheeks, but that was probably because he was always using water that was hotter than necessary. There were slight dark circles under his eyes, but Vash could think of no reason for him to be losing sleep. "What's wrong?" he asked bluntly.
Roderich looked him in the eye. It was such an intimidating thing to hold eye contact, so he quickly surrendered and looked away. "Nothing."
"Don't lie to me," he warned.
"But I'm not–"
"Don't lie," said Vash sternly. "It's my job, as head of security, to ensure that you're safe and well."
"I am safe, don't worry."
"But not well, obviously."
Roderich risked another glance at Vash.
"You can tell me anything, Roderich."
"I know."
"Good." Vash quickly pressed his lips to Roderich's forehead before turning away towards the door. "Now, hurry and get dressed," he ordered as he left.
TBC...
A/N:
Please remember to review! It gives me motivation to keep writing... And writing more quickly, at that. ;)