"I'm-I'm what?" Matthew stammered, clearly not expecting this reaction. Gloved hands continued to press his cheeks until his lips were forced up in a smile, and Gilbert laughed before withdrawing his hands away, before placing them on his hips.
The Canadian was absolutely adorable, which soft, wavy blond hair and indigo-colored eyes, hidden behind glasses and bundled up in a heavy red sweatshirt and a jacket over it. A single wild, curled strand of hair stuck up from his fringe, and the little red on his face from the cold? Oh, kill him please and serve him on a plate of pancakes! It was too sweet! Too pure, too precious for this world!
But now that they were both standing here, in the cold, face-to-face, Gilbert didn't know what to do. Whether to hug the fuck out of his Birdie or simply shake hands or just make conversation. Matthew looked equally as unsure as he did, and that lost puppy look on his face? Gilbert was not a soft man, but fuck him running.
It was literally taking all he could to not say "blubberhabagaaa" and melt all over the Canadian, because he looked warm and bright and fuzzy and holy shit, this was not what he was expecting. It's like that little weird feeling in your stomach when you see the perfect fluff picture of your OTP (in this case, Gilbert was one hundred percent sure that Percabeth was that OTP).
"I'm a what?" Matthew repeated, as if he didn't know what else to say.
"Yer a wizard, Harry," Gilbert automatically responded, and it was totally worth it to suddenly see a smile grace the Canadian's face. Gilbert needed to be held. Now.
"I, I ah, I know...I know this...So ja. Cafe. Over there. Has food. Good food. Good night. I mean, good morning. Lovely weather we're having," Gilbert managed to shoot out, not exactly sure what was coming out of his mouth, but it sounded plausible enough to count as conversation. Matthew giggled again, and it was enough to make him shut up. God, his voice was much more shy and timid and much softer than he imagined.
Or maybe it was just nerves on the Canadian's part.
Whatever the fuck it was, it was still cute as motherfucking hell.
His phone suddenly buzzed in his pocket, and Gilbert quickly pulled it out, unlocking the screen before looking at the text:
(7:11) Mon ami~! I hope you have a fun time on your date. No, not that kind of fun time. ;) But still have a fun time!
"Oh Mein Gott," Gilbert muttered, before stuffing it back inside his pocket. The one little text seemed to have straightened him up a bit, though, because when he looked up into Birdie's eyes he suddenly knew exactly what he was going to do.
"So, Birdie, get prepared for a hell of a night, because I am going to give you the time of your life!" Gilbert laughed, before grabbing Matthew's wrist as beginning to drag him through the streets. He was a bit surprised, however, when Matthew started laughing.
"What's so funny, Birdie?"
"N-Nothing, it's just...you're exactly like I thought you'd be! You're so quick to action and...Wow! We didn't even say 'hello'" Matthew seemed to find this absolutely hilarious, because he was nearly in tears. Perhaps it was an inside joke, but whatever it was, Gilbert didn't get it.
"Yeah, yeah, that's funny and all, but c'mon! We've got pretty shit to see and news flash, it ain't you, thought that would be nice. No, we're going to see the Christmas Lights!" Gilbert commanded, before continuing to drag Matthew.
"Don't they call them 'fairy lights' though?"
"That, is the stupidest shit I have ever heard."
Nothing else much was said on the journey, but a plan was already forming in his mind, and he knew just how exactly he was going to give Birdie a good time. Finally, they came to a stop at a certain busy street, where several people were watching floats beginning to stroll into the sectioned-off part of the city for the festival. The first few floats were smaller, not as special, but Gilbert was preparing for the big show soon.
"Are you cold, Birdie? Do you want hot chocolate? Coffee? Maple syrup? I hear Canadians drink maple syrup like water, is that true?"
Matthew blinked before smiling again, slowly sliding his wrist out of Gilbert's grip, "A hot chocolate is fine, thank you!"
Gilbert nodded before bounding off in excitement, slipping slightly on the icy pavement. One hot chocolate for his precious cinnamon roll, coming right up!
The hot chocolate stand was run by a boy and a girl-the boy had spiky, styled hair and the girl had curled brown locks with a ribbon threaded through her hair. Both had green eyes-though while the girl was smiling excitedly, the boy was frowning.
"Hi!" The girl said, bouncing up and down-she was nearly the boy's height, and, to say, a full inch taller than Gilbert, "Caaaaaan I get you anything?"
"Two hot chocolates." Gilbert ordered, taking a few bills out of his pocket and sliding it across the counter.
"Would you like to try some homemade Belgian waffles?" The girl bounced again, looking ecstatic as she made the offer. Ew, waffles. Nope, Gilbert was definitely a pancake person.
"I'm good. Thanks, though."
Hurrying back to his precious friend without slipping and falling proved to be an exciting task-like a game, really. When Gilbert spotted Matthew at once through the crowd, he did nearly spill the treasured drink everywhere, but managed to get to Matthew without spilling an ounce.
"Thank you! Really, thank you!" Matthew chirped as he took the hot chocolate from Gilbert, and nuzzled his face over the steam rising from the cup, "It smells really good. Where did you get it?"
"From this stand one street over. They sold waffles, too," Gilbert answered, and took a sip to hurriedly hide his face from his Birdie-he looked so cute while rubbing his face against the cup like that. This, however, resulted in a burned tongue, but he played it off as accidentally biting it.
They were silent for minutes. How do you talk to someone you've become a best friend with, but never actually seen face-to-face? It was awkward, a little weird, and Gilbert was not sure if he liked this feeling. This feeling of attachment, already, that was drawing him to Matthew, who was an excellent listener and a good friend.
Not to mention, really really cute.
But even when not in person, Roderich seemed to cockblock everything, because the sudden echoing of Roderich's warning sounded around his head, and Gilbert nearly crushed the hot chocolate cup in his anger.
Probably shouldn't go outside...Not 'til your better….Nobody blames you….Just don't do anything….I'm concerned for you….Not everyone is trying to be your bad guy, Gilbert...Promise me not to do anything rash….
Well, to hell with that. Roderich wasn't his mother or anything. He had it all under control, see, he wasn't freaking out now, he wasn't shrinking into himself as the sky turned darker and the fires burned brighter and the people grew louder and they grew and they grew and they-
"Hey, Gil?" Matthew's voice broke through his train of thought quite clearly, and Gilbert realized he had been staring blankly at the sky for quite some time now, "Are you okay?"
Gilbert looked back down silently at his hot chocolate. It was crushed. The cup, shreds in his palm as the hot liquid burned his fingers. When had that happened? Gilbert turned to look at his Birdie and instantly saw the warmth and child-like innocence in them, the uniqueness, and all the good stuff in the world.
And somehow, Gilbert was okay again.
"'Course I'm fine, Birdie," Gilbert smiled, before offering a hand (his clean one, mind you) to the Canadian. "Shall we watch these Christmas Lights?"
"Fairy lights."
"What fucking ever."
This was one of his best ideas yet. It was so perfect, to watch Matthew's face has he stared in awe at the huge floats before them, decorated in bright, blinking lights and burning flames and various children dressed as elves dancing. It was so perfect, to watch, from the side, to observe his eyes light up, and actually, for real, fall in love with the real thing, the real person. Because his rosy cheeks and his bright eyes and his look of utter awe as he watched the amazing things happen in front of him.
Because, while few words were spoken, Gilbert took the time to appreciate the small things, the way Birdie truly was. He had barely known him face-to-face for an hour and a half, and already his heart was beating against his ribcage. It was hard to describe, especially to one who's never been in a situation such as this before, but to Gilbert, it was everything, for how long had it been since he had paused and really, truly taken in a good thing in life?
Matthew was ravenous after the show, and Gilbert, knowing a good place to eat, was eager to take him to his very favorite cafe-one, unfortunately, halfway across town.
"C'mon, Birdie!" It seemed like he was saying that a lot today. Racing and skidding across snow and ice, running through back alleys to get to the cafe before it got too busy, before the sky turned dark and the monsters would come and swallow him up whole, before the-
But Matthew's weird intakes of breath from behind cause this thought to break, and Gilbert looked back.
"Birdie, you okay?"
"Yes, yes, of course! I'm fine, j-just...Just keep going!" Matthew panted, and all in one moment, Gilbert remembered everything. He slowed down, taking in Matthew's pale cheeks and his sharp intakes of breath, and Gilbert just stopped. The cafe could wait.
Leading the Canadian over to a bench and sitting on it, Gilbert rubbed a hand in what he hoped were soothing circles on the teen's back as Matthew rested one hand on his chest, before massaging his throat. All at once, Gilbert felt guilty.
"I shouldn't have forgotten about something so important," Gilbert apologized, watching Birdie stare at his knees, "The awesome me apologizes to your lesser awesomeness. I'm sorry, Matthew. I should have gone slower."
"No, no, you're fine, it's not your fault!" Matthew said quickly, suddenly looking guilty himself, "I was sure I could handle it!"
"But if hurts for you to breathe…" Gilbert trailed off, before asking, "Do you want to go home so you're not out breathing freezing air?"
"I can handle it!" Matthew's voice was suddenly very stubborn, and Gilbert blinked in surprise before laughing at the change in tone.
"Oh, Birdie. You're cute."
"Shut up, Gil."
The cafe seemed nothing special, but it served the best food Britain had to offer. Gilbert hungrily scarfed down his serving of pasta as Matthew dug into his own pancakes, looking pleased. They were in the warmth now, and it was so cold outside that the windows had fogged up-only faint blurred outlines could be seen through it.
"So how's life?" Gilbert asked in between bites, watching Matthew drizzle a fifth layer of maple syrup over everything.
"Life's pretty good," Matthew said, cocking his head to the side as he stared back at Gilbert, "What about you? How's Ludwig?"
"You're pronouncing it wrong."
"Huh?" Matthew suddenly looked very confused, and Gilbert almost squealed at the puppy look.
"It's more like a 'lood-veeg', not 'lud-weg.'"
Matthew looked a bit uncertain.
"That's weird."
"That's German."
Unfortunately, tickets were sold out to Mockingjay, but that was okay. That meant he had an extra two hours to do whatever the fuck with Birdie.
So, they talked. And walked. And talked and walked underneath the dark London sky as the city bustled all around them, talking about whatever came to mind-Franny and Toni. Alfred. Arthur. Matthew's 'homeschooling.' What it was like in Canada. Elizabeta. Topics they both steered clear of were Lars and Roderich.
"It's been nice meeting you, Gilbert," Matthew said, giving what Gilbert knew was a genuine smile. Gilbert smiled back, feeling a small bubble pop in his stomach that ignited a flurry of warmth inside him.
Oh, shit. Was that what this was for sure? Love for someone he technically just met?
That 'love at first sight' bullshit wasn't actually true, was it?
"Aaaaand...That's my ride." Matthew said suddenly as an American car rolled right past them and towards Big Ben, where Matthew had said he'd meet his brother, "We better hur-WHOA!"
For Gilbert had scooped Matthew right up into his arms, bridal-style, and began jogging across the street, mindful of the potholes and the ice.
"G-Gilbert! What are you doing?!" Matthew squeaked, face growing pink.
"Uh, taking you to meet your brother super fast so he doesn't get mad at us. DUH. Besides, you can't run, so why not carry you?"
"You're going too fast and we're on ice-AH!" Matthew squeaked again as Gilbert nearly slipped and fell backwards, but lucky, Matthew shifted his weight just in time to balance him out. A tall, muscular teen stepped out of the car ahead and Gilbert sped up, nearly getting run over in the process.
He may have almost gotten them killed twice, but Gilbert still saw it as a success when he finally set Matthew down near who he assumed was Alfred. The twins had the same face and mostly the same body structure, similar colored hair and glasses, but that's where similarities ended. Alfred seemed much more loud and rambunctious than Matthew every could be, and was wearing an American bomber jacket as he talked a million miles an hour to Matthew.
Gilbert smiled as he watched Matthew pay no attention at all to his brother and instead smile, waved silently to him, and got into the car.
"Bye, Gil. It's been fun! Really fun," Matthew said, just before he closed the door.
Gilbert stared in slight shock as the car pulled away, but shouted as it sped away,
"YOU TOO, MY BIRDIE~!"
Hours later, Gilbert was still awake in his dorm room, after enduring severals Q&A's from both Franny and Toni and even their other dorm mates, Feliks and Toris.
He had to say it. It was killing him. He would lie in this cold bed forever and never say it and he'd die like that, and he'd die unhappy.
Why was it killing him so much? He could just….
No, but the need was too great.
And with that, Gilbert picked up his phone.
(2:43) BIRDIE I FEEL THE HOMO FOR YOU