Lizzie and Gilbert were dating.

It wasn't like they were official or had told anyone or were acting super couple-y. They acted completely normal at lunch, which Roderich found almost more frustrating than if they had been making out in the seats. But there were subtle differences.

Gilbert walked Lizzie to most of her classes.

Lizzie texted Gilbert during orchestra.

When Gilbert was over at Roderich's house, he was constantly in contact with Lizzie.

They turned toward each other, just barely, while sitting together. This was particularly annoying because they always sat next to each other, with Roderich to the side of one of them, and the tilting made him feel cut off from the conversation.

But they didn't say anything about it. And Roderich didn't ask.

They probably would have remained in unsaid-relationship-limbo if Roderich hadn't turned a corner one day and seen them kissing. They had broken apart when they noticed him, looking sheepish. Roderich had felt punched in the stomach, but all he said was:

"I'm not a fucking idiot."

They didn't hide it after that, but both tried to explain why they hadn't told him.

Lizzie said. "It's not really that serious right now, and we didn't really want to talk about it before we knew where it was going."

Gilbert said, "We've just been friends forever. It just kinda happened. We didn't think it would last at all."

Roderich thought that that was bullshit. He was pretty sure that he would have told them if he started dating someone. It felt like there was a wedge between them: Gilbert and Lizzie, forever a unit that didn't include Roderich.

He thought, however, it would change things more than it did. And things did change. But it wasn't the dramatic falling-out-of-friendship he had seen from the movies and read from the books about teen relationships. Lizzie and Gilbert were just a bit more into each other than they had been before. They spent a little more time with each other. They talked about each other more. But it wasn't as though they talked to Roderich less.

Which begged the question – why was Roderich bothered by it?

It was November and they were off for Thanksgiving Break. The three of them were hanging out at the mall, eating shitty faux-Chinese food, and people watching. Roderich had a couple of bags leaning against his leg – the haul from the birthday money his father had sent – and had currently won the battle against Lizzie, who wanted to buy him something more than the cake she had brought to school for his sixteenth.

"Nothing ever happens here," Gilbert complained, glaring out at the tiny food court, a forkful of chow mein suspended on its way to his mouth. "Most boring place ever."

"Not true," Lizzie said, raising her eyebrows at Gilbert. "Imagine if we lived further inland. You can't even get somewhere that has things to do then."

"People that live there know what they're getting into," Gilbert muttered, looking down. "They know they're destined for a life of boredom."

"You complain too much." Lizzie took a slow sip of her soda.

"Aren't you bored? Don't you want to do more than all this?"

"I want to do more." She looked away, out over the milling crowd, all the people with the holidays already on their minds. "I'm just not as impatient as you."

Gilbert made a face, turning his attention to Roderich. "What about you, Roddy? Don't you want out of here?"

Roderich was picking at his sweet and sour pork. "It's not as different everywhere else as you think."

"It would be different in a city."

"Different isn't always better."

Gilbert groaned, turning his attention to back to his food. "I'm just sick of being stuck here all the time. My dad just sees me as Ludwig's helper, which would be fine because Lud is great, if I was able to be literally anything else too." He stabbed a piece of orange chicken. "I just can't be just myself here, y'know?"

"Yeah, well, I'm always helping out my mom. I know she works so hard so she can pay for my extracurriculars, but it makes me feel so guilty when I'm not with her. At least hanging out with Ludwig is fun. It's not like it's actual work" Lizzie rested her chin on her palm, staring at Gilbert.

There was silence at the table. After a moment, Roderich felt that Lizzie's eyes had turned to him, her eyebrows raised. He frowned and looked away, letting the silence stretch on for a beat longer. "My dad acts like I don't exist," he said after a moment. The quiet continued past that, until Lizzie put her hand on Roderich's arm. He looked up at her, at her sad, worried eyes, and turned to Gilbert instead.

Gilbert met his gaze and just gave a slight nod. There was a companionship in loneliness, and in the never-ending, overwhelming wave of parental expectations.

Lizzie was expected to be the perfect daughter. Gilbert wasn't expected to be anything. Roderich was expected to be everything.

They faced the world together.