Gilbert knew precisely what he wanted, and when he wanted it:

Sleep. Now.

Gottverdammt, I'm tired.

The moment he arrived at his apartment, a wave of exhaustion crashed over him, blurring his thoughts and making his eyelids feel incredibly heavy.

"Hey, bruder, I'm gonna be in my room for a while," Gilbert announced. "Don't interrupt, kay?"

Ludwig looked up at Gilbert from where he was sitting on the couch, his expression doubtful. "Well, considering the fact that you didn't comply with a similar warning I gave you last night, I'm inclined to believe you're holding a double standard."

Gilbert scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. Ludwig's argument was definitely a solid one. Gilbert's ignorance led him to enter his brother's bedroom (without warning, on top of that) and find Ludwig and Feliciano doing... private activities.

But, to be fair, Gilbert's phone died halfway through the call, not allowing him to understand the message fully.

Ludwig sighed. "Fine. I won't bother you." He glanced at his watch quickly. "But I'm going to get lunch with Feliciano soon, so you will have to set an alarm for yourself."

Gilbert nodded and flashed Ludwig a thumbs up, although he couldn't help but be a little concerned about that small detail. He wouldn't put it past himself to sleep right through even the most obnoxious of alarms, not to mention that accidentally missing the orchestra's 4:30 rehearsal session wouldn't end well for him.

Mein Gott, what am I saying? It'll be fine, my awesome internal clock never fails me!

It has, actually. On multiple different instances. Still, Gilbert's crushing ego wouldn't let him admit that to himself.

"Ja, I'll manage," Gilbert mumbled to himself as he clumsily walked over to the hallway. Right before he opened the door, he cupped both hands over his mouth and called out to Ludwig. "Have a nice date!"

Ludwig averted his eyes and frowned, obviously embarrassed. "It's not a date!"

"Mhmm, whatever you say!" Gilbert flung open the door and entered his bedroom. It was (unsurprisingly) exactly how he left it, with the exception of a small, yellow, bird, resting on his pillow.

"So adorable..." Gilbert patted the bird on its fluffy little head, cooing to it in a voice that he wouldn't dare let anyone else hear for the sake of keeping his dignity intact.

"Y'know, Gilbird, if you were a hot guy, that'd be awesome."

Gilbird chirped in response, his input not very valuable.

Gilbert gazed wistfully out the window, still stroking the bird's head. He imagined what it would be like if Gilbird magically turned into a handsome man, with perfect features and milky skin and—

Suddenly, a different image popped into his mind. An image of a person, who just so happened to also be a handsome man.

This man had pale skin and glossy, chocolate-brown hair. His eyes were vivid and deep, coloured with a rich purple hue.

This man was—

Roderich. Roderich Edelstein.

Really, Gilbert was somewhat embarrassed. He hadn't even truly interacted with the violinist, for God's sake! And, yet...

He's just— different. I swear, there's something about that Edelstein that I...

that I...

Admire?

Appreciate?

Or maybe...

Lo—

No. No, no, no. There was no way this was happening.

That four-letter word. Gilbert felt sick just hearing it.

There's no point. I'm just digging myself a deeper grave.

I can't fall in love. I can't. If I do—

I'm going to just fuck everything up before it even starts.

The sound of the front door opening and closing rang through Gilbert's ears, snapping him out of his musing.

Maybe if I was just someone who he could love, too...

Things would be fine.

He laid his head on the pillow, reveling in the bed's comfort.

Gilbird fluttered over to the small pile of cotton balls laid out on the windowsill, most likely having the same idea as Gilbert.

I can just forget about everything.

For a little while.

Gilbert closed his eyes and let himself drift off, into a deep, peaceful, sleep.

"Wow. What happened to you?"

Elizaveta sighed and brushed a piece of hair away from her face. "Business as usual."

Emma raised one eyebrow, noticing the large stack of files in Elizaveta's arms. "Usual seems like a little bit of an understatement, Liz."

"You think so?" Elizaveta plopped the files onto the edge of the countertop and groaned. "Eduard doesn't have the best time-management skills, apparently."

"Yeah, I can see that," Emma remarked before typing something on her keyboard.

Elizaveta couldn't help but envy her friend's carefree nature— being a receptionist, Emma didn't have to deal with hours of mind-numbing paperwork.

Elizaveta glared at the files with frustration and confusion. She had dealt with much worse, before. In fact, in her first week working at Lexial, she was made to assist with a major case concerning murder allegations via pipeline.

Murder allegations! Honestly, who in their right mind would place such a heavy case in my hands?

Regardless, Elizaveta was lucky to get such a secure position after moving to France. Lexial was considered one of the top-notch law firms in all of Paris, after all.

There was just one little thing that made her job much more difficult:

Roderich.

Before arriving at the firm that morning, Elizaveta had spent a lot of her time lamenting over her husband's actions.

And, as it seemed, the lamenting would follow her to her workplace, too.

He should have just…

Communicated.

I wish we could have a regular conversation, for once.

What if I'm in the wrong? Elizaveta wondered. Am I just not doing this correctly? Is there anything I could do to salvage this?

But…

Is what we have now not even worth being salvaged?

Elizaveta really, really, didn't want to accept the idea that formed in her mind. The idea that…

Perhaps the torch she held for Roderich had just…

Burnt out.

Neither of us is getting anything out of this. I mean, the intercourse was nice and all, but what if he didn't actually enjoy it as much as he said he did?

Elizaveta was beginning to doubt everything; the reality of the situation was bleak, but clear nonetheless.

Maybe this was all just a big mistake.

A big mistake that I haven't a clue how to correct.

Unfortunately, there was no time for Elizaveta to reflect. She had a job to do, and she intended to do it.

Elizaveta picked up the files once more and sighed. "Well, I'll be off. Court documents would draft themselves."

Emma smirked and gave Elizaveta a reassuring nod. "Remember to have fun!" she retorted playfully.

Elizaveta rolled her eyes, pretending to be annoyed at the good-natured banter. "Haha. Fun. I wish."

As she advanced down the hall towards her small office (which wasn't technically an actual office, but rather an empty meeting room that nobody bothered to use,) Elizaveta felt her body begin to stiffen.

There were so many thoughts and emotions and uncertainties pilling up inside her mind to the point where she wanted nothing more than to just slam her face against her desk and scream.

Obviously, doing that wouldn't do much for Elizaveta (except earning her odd looks from her fellow employees and a bruise the size of Ukraine on her forehead.) However, there was an alternative that seemed much more appealing.

I just need to…

Talk. Vent.

Whatever.

Elizaveta entered her office and placed the files on the desk. The small clock on the wall ticked away, displaying the time as 10:23 AM.

I could take a break for lunch and have some time to talk all of this out with somebody.

There was one minor hitch in her plan:

Elizaveta really didn't have any friends.

Besides Emma, who despite being one of the few people she knew at Lexial, wasn't exactly to be trusted with confidential information. If there's one thing the Belgian woman loved more than waffles, it was gossip.

Moving to Paris brought new opportunities, but it also brought its fair share of challenges. Back in Vienna, Elizaveta was actually quite the socialite, having one of the city's most distinguished musicians as her partner.

Really, she couldn't help but feel so lonely. While Paris was a city of culture and art, it certainly wasn't Vienna. There wasn't a single familiar face in the crowd.

Elizaveta brought out her phone, entering in the passcode, and staring blankly at the screen covered in colorful icons.

She didn't have any new messages—not even from her parents. Hell, even that annoying vampire-wannabe wasn't pestering her.

Elizaveta mentally kicked herself. She had a long-time rivalry with that Romanian boy, which didn't cease even after her graduation from high school.

Yet, she missed him?

This is just getting ridiculous! Am I really that desperate?

Elizaveta hadn't heard from Vlad in a while. She opened the messaging app, clicking on his contact. The last conversation they had was ended by her, with a string of insults in Hungarian.

I wonder what he's up to, now.

Knowing him, it's probably nothing good.

But…

Out of curiosity, Elizaveta exited the messaging app and opened Twitter. She was actually quite active on the social media platform, once upon a time, but recently she had found herself too busy to engage in it.

Elizaveta scrolled through her feed for a little while, finding it somewhat boring. Deeming the investigation as fruitless, she moved her finger towards the home button of her phone, ready to leave the app entirely.

Then, something caught her eye. The notification icon was lit up, indicating a new alert. Elizaveta clicked on the icon.

Vlad the magician (I'm legit, I swear) is now following you!

That certainly was an interesting development. Elizaveta wasn't aware that Vlad also had a Twitter, although it seemed like a quite daft assumption to make considering that practically everybody had a social media at that point.

Elizaveta scoffed as she read his name.

Legit, huh. Or so he claims.

Moron.

She clicked on the account's name with the intention of scrutinizing Vlad's profile further.

Maybe he joined a cult or picked up another weird hobby. That seems just like him.

Apparently, none of Elizaveta's predictions were correct. Vlad's most recent post was a selfie of him smiling devilishly, placing bunny ears on the weary-looking, black-haired, man sitting next to him.

Almost done with rehearsal! (＿Δ＿) nikola looks so annoyed lol

Elizaveta stared at the picture for a few moments, a little confused.

Rehearsal? Rehearsal for what?

Elizaveta was inclined to presume the worst possible situation Vlad could be in, which led her to come to a certain conclusion.

He must be a stripper! A stripper who's rehearsing for some sort of show!

"Pfft—imagine letting yourself sink that low in life," Elizaveta muttered under her breath, chuckling mischievously.

However, these deductions were soon proved false, much to Elizaveta's chagrin. Upon closer inspection, it was evident that the black-haired man (supposedly Nikola) was holding a viola, while what seemed to be Vlad's bow barely made it into the frame.

He's in an orchestra?!

How?

Since when?

Elizaveta glared at the image, sending flames of hatred into those annoying russet eyes.

So he's actually doing something with his life.

Her gaze dropped from the image itself to the people mentioned in the post. The list was brief; including Nikola's account and—

The Paris Philharmonic.

My god—

Elizaveta sat there for a minute, still trying to process what she was seeing.

How did Vlad manage to get into the Paris Philharmonic?!

She was a little bit irritated that things were going so well for Vlad. He was her archnemesis, after all. It was nothing out-of-the-ordinary for Elizaveta to wish for her enemy's failure, but…

That nagging feeling in the back of her mind didn't go away. In fact, it seemed to magnify.

Especially at the mention of—

Orchestra.

Music was beautiful. It was always supposed to be like that, and it was, but sometimes Elizaveta couldn't help but feel that music was just tearing her relationship with Roderich apart.

How could something so magnificent be so destructive at the same time?

He said he was looking into joining another orchestra...

They'd accept him right away, without a doubt.

With music and rehearsal and concerts and fame, he'll be incredibly busy.

And I...

I'll just be abandoned, I guess.

Elizaveta sighed, wishing she could just disappear. The feeling was an all-too-familiar one, sadly enough.

What happened to me? I used to be so...

So much more.

Now I'm just wasting my time getting hung up over a man that I don't even know if I love anymore.

Elizaveta scrolled further down Vlad's timeline, determined to ignore the mountain of insecurities looming before her.

Another one of his posts further confirmed Vlad's involvement with the Paris Philharmonic. This post was from a few months back, and had another picture attached, not unlike the previous one.

wtf awesomesince1525 brought his bird to the chateau ? ﾟﾘﾂ?

The picture was an image of a white-haired man with a small, yellow, chick perched on his shoulder. The man held a flute in his hands and stared at the camera with a smirk.

Gilbert?

First, it was Vlad, now him?

Elizaveta took another look at the photo, noting the familiar facial structure and features of the person.

It's really him, isn't it?

Gilbert looked... a little different. The last time Elizaveta had seen her German (or as he claimed, Prussian) friend was when they had graduated high school.

He used to be such a twiggy little thing, but now...

Gilbert looked slightly more toned, although the overall shape of his body was similar to what it was before.

Still, five years really did change a lot.

And in Gilbert's case, it was for the better.

Unlike with Vlad, Elizaveta felt a burst of pride knowing that Gilbert had actually found something he was passionate about. They were very close, back before they parted ways. Even after it became clear that their dynamic wouldn't fit under the umbrella of "romance" very well, there were no hard feelings between the two.

Elizaveta made another deduction.

Gilbert's in the Paris Philharmonic, which would mean…

He's here. In France.

It was a little hard to believe that there was a chance that Vlad or Gilbert could be wandering around somewhere within Elizaveta's proximity. However, evidently, fate seemed to have a strange way of bringing people together.

Elizaveta thought about Roderich again.

Or pushing them apart.

Elizaveta brought her index finger towards the phone's screen once again, clicking on the account that was tagged in Vlad's post. She was brought to a different profile; this one had a photo of a baby chick balancing itself on the rim of a half-empty beer glass as its profile picture.

Elizaveta quickly realized just how incredibly, ridiculously, unbelievably Gilbert everything was. The pinned tweet, the tag, the username—

Everything.

Oh, god. I miss him.

I miss him so much.

Even the parts of Gilbert that were obnoxious and arrogant— Elizaveta missed them, too.

Perhaps it was just the familiarity of it all that pushed her to click on the small, letter-shaped icon to the left of the follow button, which took her to the private messaging system.

Ignoring all the possibilities of seeming childish, clingy, or desperate, Elizaveta began typing out a message.

She sucked in a deep breath and clicked 'send.'

Hey. how's life?

NOTES:

Here's another chapter, where we got to see some more from Elizaveta's perspective, and Estonia (poor guy, I bet he's swamped) is briefly mentioned.

Bulgaria = Nikola

Belgium = Emma

Lexial = An actual law firm in Paris if I'm not mistaken. They specialize in business and crime-related cases, although the similarities end there.

Anyway, Happy Holidays, everyone! Hope you're enjoying them!