"Gilbert! Gil you have to wake up!" Francis pounded on the other's door. It was eight in the morning and he did not want to be awake. He shouldn't have been considering his Monday class started at 10:30. Unfortunately, someone's alarm filled the house with some kind of vile German metal. "If you're late to class, you can't use my shoulder to cry on. No…that's not the problem," he chided himself. "If you're going to skip on the first day, at least turn your alarm off!"
A muffled, groaning growl answered him. Francis dragged in a deep breath, ready to unleash it on his sleeping friend. Right then, Antonio walked out of the bathroom, yawning and running a hand through his messy, wet curls. Other than a pair of hip hugging dark jeans, he wore nothing. A red towel hung over his neck and a lone drop of water twisted down his tanned torso.
"Hm? What's wrong, Francis?" Antonio asked. He raised his hand as if to yawn again, but after an expectant second, he lowered it and smiled instead. His green eyes fixed on the closed door and he nodded once. Antonio may have loved mornings and woke up at this hour for himself, but he knew neither of his housemates enjoyed them. Gilbert especially struggled to pass classes. Multiple reasons were at fault with that kid, but at least a few of them stemmed from an allergy to mornings. "Oh Gil…whatever are we going to do with you?"
Francis sighed and banged his fist on the door when the alarm started up again. "The worst part? He locked the door! Otherwise, I'd drag him out and toss him on the doorstep as is," Francis said as if to Antonio, but he raised his voice loud enough to be heard through the door. The resulting squeak informed them Gilbert got the message. Francis chuckled under his breath. Gilbert cared too much about his image, even compared to Francis. He didn't need to squeak like a girl whose skirt just lifted in a breeze because of this. Or did Gilbert sleep in only boxers? Images danced through Francis' mind. The pale man tangled in his dark sheets, white hair haloed on the pillow. His thin legs parted slightly to reveal snug black shorts that accented what lay beneath. Maybe he slept in nothing at all. Francis flushed and swallowed back the drool trying to leak out. He blinked multiple times to find Antonio staring expressionlessly at him.
"Pervert." Gilbert probably did the smart thing locking his door considering Francis' growing desire to jump him some unexpected morning. Antonio waved this off though and a second later smiled like his usual helpful self. "If you want in, he didn't lock the connecting doors from his side."
"The details you notice astound me. You weren't planning anything were you?" Francis muttered with widened eyes.
"Me? Oh no…I'll leave the planning to you. You're much better at it, but make sure to let me know when you do," Antonio grinned, his normally unfocused eyes sharp and full of something unreadable. Francis grinned back, nodding that he understood. Antonio flashed another smile. "Because I really want to see how you look without fingers!"
Francis' face twisted. "You brat!" He reached for the towel around Antonio's neck just as the door cracked open. Both men turned in confusion before a voice exploded through the small opening.
"Damn Dummkopf! Stop being so loud!" Gilbert's phone flew through the crack and into Francis' head. He tripped back, hand flying to cover the stinging pain. Francis shot him a wounded look, but it fell short of useful when Gilbert tried to slam the door closed again. He grabbed it last second. "Oh no you don't! You're getting up and going to school if I have to drag you to class myself!"
"You wouldn't dare!"
Francis huffed, a look of pride crossing over his face. "I most definitely would."
Antonio shook his head and unwound his towel from where it choked his neck. Crouching, he snatched up Gilbert's phone. After switching off the alarm, he moved his attention to the photo albums unsurprisingly filled with selfies. Almost as many were of a muscular blonde he knew to be Gilbert's little brother, Ludwig. And then, there were the pictures of Germany taken out a plane window and at least a dozen pictures of his bird. Antonio sent the most embarrassing selfies to himself as his two friends continued to fight.
Gilbert finally got the door closed all the way and for half a minute, he stayed silent in the dark. Francis fumed on the other side, busy nursing his sore head and trying to reattach a handful of hair strands. He gathered his voice for another bout of yelling, but Gilbert cracked the door open.
"Make me pancakes?" He always made Ludwig pancakes before school, so what if he wanted someone to treat him now?
Francis stayed silent for a bit, his eyes searching the ghostly face standing out in the dark. Antonio stared up at them and the two met eyes before Francis shrugged. "Give me fifteen minutes. When's your class?" he asked as he drifted toward the kitchen. Gilbert followed after as if they hadn't been fighting a minute earlier. Antonio smiled when he saw Gilbert wore a childish blue pajama set with duckies all over the pants and a big duck with a crown on the front.
"It starts at 9:30. I'm gonna go shower."
"Just one question!" Francis called before Gilbert slipped too far away. "Strawberries or no?"
Gilbert grinned. "Blueberries."
xXx
"Sometimes I feel like a parent," Francis sighed. Antonio looked up from his omelet, fork half way to his mouth. Gilbert already whirled in and out of the kitchen, the pancakes folded into a plastic bag with powdered sugar instead of syrup. Just like asked, Francis mixed blueberries into the batter as well as scattered a few on top, though he grumbled the entire way. Gilbert spent thirty minutes in the bathroom fixing his hair into a state that still looked like his pet nested in it and his jacket sported a price-tag. He forgot the textbook he carried with him to the table and Antonio rested his breakfast plate on top of it. "I have a hard time believing he's an older brother."
Antonio swallowed his bite down with a gulp of orange juice. "Really? Have you seen how many pictures of Ludwig he has on his phone?" He saw the older-brotherness in small moments when Gilbert didn't think anyone watched or in the drunken gushing. He missed home. He missed Ludwig.
Francis chuckled. "That has something to do with being brothers? How many pictures do you have of Lovino still?" Antonio's eyes hardened. With practiced ease, he set his fork down with a plink. Francis glanced over. "Was that bad? Just…I thought you two still talked."
It took Antonio nearly a full minute to respond. In that time, his face remained blank. Then he broke out in a bright smile, voice pitching high as he waved a hand in excitement. "I'm sure we are. He hasn't answered my last three calls, but Feli says he's busy with school. Senior year is coming up for them. Remember how it was for us? Toughest days of our lives!" He laughed because there was never a moment Antonio couldn't laugh. When he looked down at his half eaten, artfully created omelet though, his stomach churned. He should have made oatmeal after all.
"Sorry," Francis sighed.
Antonio just continued to smile as if his eyes weren't dull and his fists forgottenly clenched. "It's to be expected after…everything that's happened. You can't blame him for it." Antonio fully believed that, no matter how bad it hurt. Lovino was never to blame. Antonio didn't know who to blame though. Not himself, or his family, just…people. They turned stories into fantasies spun from spider webs, hungry for a catch. If Lovino thought the same lies about him that everyone else did, Antonio wouldn't be able to smile. He prized his smile more than anything else so he didn't want to lose it. Who else would cheer up his friends and the sad drunks he sometimes met in bars, flirting with, but really just sharing sunshine? It would be wrong if the world stole his sunshine too.
Francis brushed a hand along Antonio's shoulder as the brunette stood. "Are you sure you're okay?" The problem with Antonio's smile was no matter how long Francis knew him, he still struggled to tell the difference between the real and fake ones. Did he get over his ghosts easily or just shove them under the surface? Both happened just as often, but not often enough for Francis to understand. Antonio of a thousand emotions and one face. They should write a poem about him. And he just nodded his head and flitted out of the room. Francis sighed and finished his breakfast.
By the time the older male reappeared to get his day started, the usual atmosphere of the home returned. Antonio lay across the couch with his laptop and a book sprawled on top of him, one earbud hanging from his right ear. He glanced at Francis then started waggling his eyebrows. "Do you have a date tonight?"
Francis scoffed and didn't bother trying to understand how Antonio figured that out so quick. The younger man's eyes tilted down to his shoes and Francis stifled a laugh, palm hitting his face. "You never cease to amaze me." Of course he wore his fancy shoes. His classes ran until the time he planned to meet a rather magical blonde by the name of Clarine, so he packed a change of clothes. The shoes proved too bulky though so he planned to wear them all day and maybe, just maybe he spent extra time on his hair.
Antonio continued to chuckle as he waved Francis off like a parent to his kid despite being a year younger. "Have fun! Don't let this one slap you!" Francis' glare passed over him uselessly.
"Don't worry, I learned to tell them from the start that my heart's taken by another." The door slammed shut after him. Antonio rested until he heard the car hum off into the distance, then he stretched out and stared back at his computer screen. While his friends struggled with their first day of the new semester, he did his own job research. He couldn't work at the grocery mart for the rest of his life. He just needed a little more money so he could chase his dreams. And then when Gilbert came home, they could go to the store and buy some plants. Start a garden; start a new green life. Antonio let out a blissful sigh. It's what they were all looking for.
xXx
Gilbert stared at the auditorium ceiling, wondering if he could launch a pencil high enough to get stuck in the rafters. Thoughts about pencil mass, velocity, and exerted force flicked through his mind. Calculations that weren't quite calculations, but rather instinct came naturally to him. His eyes narrowed as he pulled his arm back. At the last second, his smirk fell and he dropped his pencil back to the little swivel table attached to his padded chair. He only brought one pencil today and he needed it for his English Comp class after this lecture from snooze-ville.
Finally the professor flicked off the last slide of irrelevant American crap and released the class. If not for culturally enriching classes being a core requirement and Gilbert still an undecided major, he would never take the class. At least the first day finished without him committing a crime. Only three months left.
Since he sat in one of the last rows, Gilbert made it out the door before the swelling crowd behind him. The floor length windows shocked his eyes after so long in dark. He cursed, snapping a pair of sunglasses down from their place on top of his head. Fellow students glanced at him with interest and distaste in their eyes. He earned looks everywhere he went, being the only pure white god of albinism in the school. If he had to wear sunglasses inside to save his eyes some pain, then he'd flaunt it. Gilbert grinned with all the self-satisfaction of a king and strutted over to a bench. He flopped onto his back and basked in the shade. A few seconds later, the shadows darkened and he flung his eyes open again, body tensing. An unfamiliar face looked down at him, but he recognized the ponytail. He rolled his eyes at it not ten minutes ago. The owner sat three seats over in the auditorium and Gilbert now had the chance to appreciate the boy's height.
"I heard about a German kid with white hair from my girlfriend. They say you have red eyes too," the guy snickered. Two others paused to watch the scene. Gilbert still lounged, but his every muscle coiled as his face split in a slow grin. Ponytail spoke like a typical bully of all talk, no bite. Gilbert imagined his girlfriend bossing him around the bedroom. The guy was curious and trying to sound intimidating to hide it. Gilbert could read that all in the time it took him to exhale. He would give the audience just what they came for.
He tipped his sunglasses down despite the glare coming straight ahead from a window. Gilbert didn't blink, just stared the guy right in the face. "These are the bonafide eyes of a demon. Stare into them and die," he growled.
"No shit!" Ponytail exclaimed. "You wear contacts right? There's no way!"
Dude, I'm albino. Gilbert would have rolled his eyes if not busy weaving a spell. I burn in the sun like alcohol under a match and my eyes scream with problem after problem. What's special about that? But he kept quiet. He smirked even as his eyes watered. "Why do you think I have to wear sunglasses?" Oh the uneducated masses. A few more onlookers hovered now and Ponytail shifted nervously. He grinned, but it kept twitching. With a slightly crooked finger, Gilbert pointed at Ponytail. He touched the tip of the finger to his forehead and said, "Die."
Ponytail flailed back. "W-what the hell dude?! Freak!" He got out of there fast, throwing a third finger over his shoulder. It did nothing to muffle the snickers now thrown at him. Gilbert pushed his sunglasses back into place and waited for the crowd to disperse. When it did, he spun toward the wall and screamed silently into his hands. Tears pricked at the corners of his stinging eyes. Evil sunlight! God, my eyes aren't even all red! Not enough people looked close to see such details though. He supposed the amount of blue in his eyes didn't stop them from reading as red. Red eyed albinos were supposed to be a myth, but Gilbert had a way of being special. As he settled back onto the bench, he remembered pulling the same rouse with Francis and Antonio the first day they met. He lay there as the memory washed over him with a gentle sweep.
Music thumped through the smokey, half-lit air. Sweat and alcohol created a familiar reek that even a foreigner with no friends could relax into. No matter what country, a club was a club. Getting drunk was getting drunk, and this was one of the finest places in Los Angeles to do it. Gilbert had a mass of bodies around him, girls, boys, and one that might have been a transvestite. He didn't look close enough at the face to tell. Leather upholstery pressed against the stripe of skin at his lower back between the black skinny jeans he wore and the graphic tee bunched up around his toned stomach. He sat in the middle of a booth filled with college students and more arrived with each passing second.
"Mon ami's, what kind of party is this?" A man with long blonde waves called as he waltzed in. A tan brunette waved from a step behind. "Everyone's sitting. Dance! And someone order a bottle of wine." These two newcomers were all it took to throw everyone into a true clubbing mood. People danced and drank. Gilbert did a real sexy number with the girl who invited him to the party. She whirled away before long though and he didn't mind. He didn't remember her name.
Finally, the heat got to be too much and Gilbert collapsed to the booth again. He pressed a cold beer to his cheek, letting his eyes shut as his head fell against the upholstery. For seconds, all he heard was his blood in his ears. Then conversation drifted over to him. Gilbert's eyes cracked open. Them? Two familiar figures occupied the opposite side of the booth, huddled together though they were the only others sitting. Gilbert huffed. Go figure. They were the most dead set on dancing the night away and here they were chatting and sipping wine like sophisticated gentleman instead of college students. Gilbert couldn't help but eavesdrop.
"No, the one in the purple sequined dress is hotter. I can spot a pair of perfect breasts from across a room, even in a badly fit dress," the blonde nodded.
The other hummed, maybe in agreement or in disagreement. Gilbert couldn't tell. "The guy she's dancing with has better hair."
Low laughter. "I'll give you that." The blonde raised his glass to point at a couple by the bar. "I'll bet you ten bucks Madison goes home with Kyle. He's been chasing her for a month and he's finally gonna get lucky!"
Gilbert flipped his head to the side and found the couple the other two watched. Madison straddled a young man's lap whose attention focused entirely on her. She looked to be a seven in hotness, but Kyle could be a nine with a little more height. She made up for her lack in looks by flaunting herself with tasteful clothes and even more tasteful body movements. Every tilt of her head sent that silken black hair sliding across a boney shoulder and she twisted her torso like a model. When she leaned forward against his chest, hands in his hair as she licked her lips, Gilbert decided she was an eight after all. Still, she wasted her gestures. Kyle couldn't see them and she couldn't see his face with how far she leaned over his shoulder. The motion didn't match someone who looked as experienced at seducing as she. Even the curly-haired, freckle boy on the next stool didn't look at her. Gilbert's eyes narrowed.
"I'll bet you twenty she doesn't," he cut in, eyes still on the bar. The pair opposite him silenced and he tilted toward them after a second. Because of the strobe lights and flashing throb of color, he wore sunglasses even in this dim room. It made distinguishing much about the other two difficult, but they looked surprised. Finally, the brunette's face broke out in a smile that made Gilbert's sunglasses feel useless.
"I'll take you up on that!" He thrust out his hand to make the deal official and Gilbert shook it. The blonde pondered a second before declining to take part in the bet. Five minutes later, Freckle-boy caught Madison's eye and sparks flew bright enough for them to see half way across the room. They quickly looked away. She excused herself first when Kyle asked if she wanted another drink. Freckle-boy slipped out after, using the same door to the club's back.
Gilbert grinned at his companions who stared back in shock. "Amazing! How'd you know?" The blonde asked. His friend passed over a pre-written IOU without hesitation, baffling Gilbert. He shrugged and explained.
"When you've got a hot guy like that under you, you pay attention. She was watching the guy next to him. Obviously she knew he wanted her and used him to get near his friend."
"Very impressive. I'm Francis and this here's Antonio. You?"
"Gilbert. Nice to meet ya and…thanks for the money?" he questioned.
Antonio just beckoned him with a hand, still grinning. "No prob. Slide on over here. We could use an extra set of eyes. Now…about that lonely Kyle. How much do you want to bet I can seduce him into my bed?"
Money flew down on the table and the three laughed together as if they did this every night. Antonio did in fact go home with Kyle despite Francis insisting he was straight until the end. Francis nabbed a girl with a blonde bob cut and bright eyes. Gilbert danced until he passed out on the dance floor and stayed hungover until after he missed his Monday classes. And he just laughed—even when his new friends teased him later about saying he had demon eyes and that when the full moon came out, he'd grow the one wing of a fallen and consume the souls of broken-hearted humans. Francis simply answered, "Good luck, but please eat Antonio first!"
Of course it wasn't until a week later that they really became friends. Gilbert learned Francis was in his final year of undergrad, unlike Gilbert in his first. Antonio dropped out from the community college and couch surfed among his friends. Those two had a hell of a reputation around the school and it made Gilbert instantly like them. The next weekend, they met at the same club and escaped to the roof for a smoke. Under the twilight glare, they played around like a couple of troublesome kids. Antonio begged to see Gilbert's 'demon eyes' and stole his glasses. It left him cursing his photosensitivity, tearing and suddenly self-conscious. The three shared a moment. The self proclaimed amazing demon turned out to be no less human than they. No less alone in a sea of attention. That moment bonded them together as best friends.
Out there on the roof, they realized they shared something more than a taste in alcohol and pretty faces. Something everyone else in the club couldn't understand. Those people invited them to their parties, back home to their beds, stole strawberry kisses and carefree laughs. But still the three stood alone because they were society's lepers. They didn't know each other's story at the time, but their eyes said one existed. Instead, they laughed and Gilbert put his sunglasses back on. A cigarette toast sealed their promise for the rest of eternity.
"To never be alone."
(Yes, when you see random names, they are OCs. They will remain sprinkled throughout this story in various levels of importance.)