Antonio sat on the bus, his earbuds in and to all appearances, asleep. The techno music that blared over the bus' noise coaxed his thoughts into some kind of order. He worked part-time, getting as many hours as he could get at the grocery mart. It didn't pay well and he didn't get good hours either. He practically had to beg his boss every time to get a double-shift like today. Things were good at home though so he felt safe enough to be away from it all. What could possibly go wrong in one day's time?

Anything. Everything. He flicked his music up one more volume. No need to think about that. Antonio shouldn't be thinking right? He wasn't a thinker. Maybe an observer, but not a thinker. He left that to his friends. Gilbert was good at thinking. He goofed off, skipped class, and underachieved his way through life, but his test scores sailed him right into UCLA. Even on Antonio's best day he couldn't make it into a school like that. Francis had to work for it and his parents subtly hinted they didn't want anything less for their son. With his forehead pressed against the warm, smudgy window, Antonio wondered what it would be like for his family to have high expectations like that.

The bus shuddered to a stop and Antonio snapped his eyes open. Smiling to the stranger next him, he bid the man a good day, then slipped off one block from his job. He didn't have a car, but this mode of travel suited him. He liked to meet people and smile at them. His cousins always said his smile could cure cancer. It was his gift in the world. He didn't have brains, a good body perhaps, but the thing he had to offer was surely happiness.

Antonio's smile twisted somewhere far too bright to actually be happy. His cousins said a lot of things. Mostly Lovino. Feliciano said kind things where his older brother talked trash, but the twins meant well. It had now been four weeks since either answered his calls, six months since his parents spoke to him, and far longer for the rest of his family. They used to be so close too. Unlike usual, Antonio kept his music playing right until he reached the grocer.

Before opening hours, the store had a stale and cold air that Antonio ignored. As soon as people started to wheel through, it'd fill with chatter and warmth. He really was built for the service industry. Antonio just loved to be around others, but still, he didn't dream about doing this for the rest of his life. Even someone like him who couldn't follow through with more than one year of college had dreams. Or it could be said he dropped out because he had dreams and the worst event of his life conspired to show him that. This was just a stop-over, but at least one he didn't mind much.

"Hi boss!" he called as he nudged the door to the back room open and skipped inside. Wouldn't it be nice to one day be the one called 'boss'? Sometimes he had fantasies like that, but Francis laughed at him, said he would be too irresponsible of a boss. It might have been true, but Antonio could still dream. Images of children and tomatoes, ripe oranges hanging from trees, and family all around flashed behind his eyelids. A dream. A dream that did not involve college, big cities, and degrees in physical education.

Antonio found himself working the register on the far end. The only other lane open stood on the other side, manned by a droopy-eyed youth. Of course, number three broke last week so no one could operate in the middle. He didn't mind, but it left him a little bored. The morning rush ended and the afternoon crowd wouldn't be in for a while yet. With a bigger chain store not much more than across the street, a lot of the area's business went there. It could get quiet in the little local store. Antonio was about to wander over to Herc's lane for a little conversation when he noticed a girl heading his way, basket under her arm.

"Good morning, miss," he grinned to her. "Do you have your card with you?" He liked to look his customers in the eyes, but she kept hers down as she dug for her card. When she found it and passed it over, their eyes finally met. Both let out a little 'oh' at the same time. Seeing blonde hair and green eyes brighter than his own by far, Antonio did the same thing Francis must have done—mistook her for Arthur. He stood like an idiot with his mouth open for nearly a minute before he remembered to scan her card and hand it back. Antonio knew Arthur almost as long as Francis, having been introduced to the younger boy weeks after he started tagging along with older blonde. Back then, things were a lot simpler.

"You were with Francis that day. Are you his friend?" The girl asked. Antonio didn't remember her name. He started to scan her bags of potato chips and tv dinners interspersed with energy drinks as she talked. Francis would have a conniption if he saw the contents of his girlfriend's shopping basket. Antonio considered telling him about it just for that.

"His best!" He grinned one of his more winning smiles, the one he used when trying to charm his way into some boy's bed. But even if he had a taste in the fairer sex, he wouldn't chase after this girl. "You're his girlfriend." Girlfriend. What a word that was, but didn't it seem like Francis actually dated her rather than courted and dumped her aside once he got in her pants? Dating was a far rarer thing for that man though not unheard of.

She nodded and offered her hand which he took between scanning cheap lasagnas. "My name's Alissa. It's nice to meet you." He introduced himself back, but she hardly waited for it, snapping the conversation back to herself almost immediately. "So I guess you know him really well?"

It was Antonio's turn to nod now, though his was slow, a little more wary. "We grew up together. I know more about him than anyone else."

Alissa's shoulders relaxed and she sighed. The conceited face of a model she wore soon faded with relief. The look suited her better, especially since she didn't have the face or body to match her attitude, though she looked pleasant enough. "Really? I'm glad I ran into you. It's true I've only known him a little while, but I feel like there's this distance between us. He dotes on me and it's really nice," she said with a delicate giggle behind her hand. "No one's done that for me before. He's different than I first thought, but I still feel as if I don't know anything about him. It makes me anxious."

By now Antonio finished scanning the groceries. He could do this all on autopilot, always being one to talk through the checking process. Looking at Alissa now, he felt sorry for her. He disapproved of Francis pulling her into his fantasy world, but he could never paint her as the villain after this meeting. Wasn't she just another victim with no idea? Antonio glanced around and decided the store still exhibited dead hour conditions. "Should I share a little about him then?"

Alissa's face broke out in a smile. "Oh thank you so much! You really understand a girl!" Antonio didn't think so, but he finished bagging the groceries and smiled at her again. Couldn't he use this as a chance to break them up while being nice the entire time? Francis did call him devious. It only showed that Francis knew him just as well back. Antonio turned off his lane's light before anyone could notice and complain.

"Here, let me help carry your groceries and we can talk on the way." He gathered most of the bags and Alissa took the others as they headed into the muggy, early October air. As always, the sun shined somewhere between cozy and brutal. She pointed the way to her car and Antonio broke out his most endearing stories of Francis.

"When I met that guy, he was nine and me a year younger. I took one look at him and called out 'wow, you're a really pretty girl!' Ah, of course I really meant it to be kind," Antonio grinned. Francis had long hair then too, wavier in his youth and tied with a teal ribbon. His jacket hung off him to his knees and Antonio mistook it for a dress when he saw the pretty blonde at the playground. "He was soooo cute! And then he beat me up until I apologized. We became friends the next day…ah, but he still wore the ribbon. He dressed like a girl all the way until Junior High." Antonio shook his head with laughter, still amused at the memory. If a child could have a first love, Francis would be it, cute little thing he was. Then he grew up to be a bearded beast, but Antonio still slept with him because why not?

He set the bags in Alissa's car then glanced at her face. Her lips quirked into a smile, but she looked put off. "Really? I did think he was the vain sort…" She hiked her black purse higher on her shoulder and crossed her arms to look at Antonio, one perfectly trimmed eyebrow twitching up. "But that's just the actions of a child."

Antonio wasn't done yet though. "Of course, that's the only time he's ever beat me up! The one year makes a bigger difference in size at that age." He puffed out his chest, indignant at the thought that Francis ever beat him. "Don't let his decent figure fool ya! He's a total pansy! It's all art, wine, and flowers with him. I hope you're not the sort that likes testosterone," he tacked on with his most innocent, wide eyes. Just give up on him already. He won't give up on you, no, on Arthur no matter what. I hate to get involved, but you're the one that came to me. It's alright to tell you the truth. Okay, the bit about the testosterone stretched the truth. Francis had some crazy libido and all the manliness a lover could want in bed. Antonio should know. Ooh, maybe he should say that. Like, 'hey, he also fucked me a few weeks ago in a strange, almost three-way.'

Right when Antonio opened his mouth though, Alissa frowned and talked over him. "What kind of best friend makes fun like this? I thought you were nice, but aren't your eyes a little mean?" She slammed the trunk of her car down and turned on him. Antonio just blinked at her, for once too shocked to try to smile his way out of trouble. It took Francis seven years to realize that about him and Alissa did it in five minutes. He shouldn't have been mean after all. He should just tell her the truth. No, he should leave her be and wish the two lots of luck. Maybe she and Francis wouldn't make each other cry. Antonio was starting to like her after all.

He ducked his head and waved, finally recovering his smile. "I'm sorry. It's nothing like that. I just care about Francis very much, so don't make him cry or I'll have to do the same to you. Bye!" He smiled one last time before he ran back to the store. Heracles and the boss were probably wondering where he went. Customers trickled in with the coming of lunch and he had the evening shift too. Suddenly the idea of spending his entire day here sounded much less appealing than earlier.

xXx

Francis checked his phone before he hurried out of the car. Good, it wasn't too late to make dinner yet. He got held up by a cute boy after class; he wanted to borrow Francis' notes which he'd been more than willing to share for a free look at that pale neckline. Hands full, he kicked the door open and tried to get to the kitchen as quick as possible before he dropped the groceries he carried. He noticed Gilbert first thing, laying on the couch with his face planted in a pillow. Asleep?

Francis drew in a deep breath to yell at him, but decided against it. Why not let the guy sleep a little longer yet? He may have freaked out at first, but things really did improve between them after Antonio slept with the younger man. To casually nap in the common area made Francis smile. The change happened almost immediately. Gilbert remained awkward after he woke, but Francis had class and didn't get to see much of it. The next morning Gilbert yelled them all awake for breakfast and threw bread at Francis, then slept the entire time between food and class with a dumb-ass grin.

As far as Francis knew, they had sex only the one time. It was interesting though. Maybe the house had something in the air because they never got in so much sex in so short a time before. Logically, he should just say living together created the effect, gave them more opportunity. Before moving in together, he and Antonio hadn't been together for most of a year. There was summer break where they got together only a few times. Antonio worked and Francis slipped back into his family's high social circle and the parties. Gilbert went home to Germany until they rented this place and he had somewhere to stay.

But even before that, Antonio became Francis' bed partner on rare occasions like when they served as each other's wingman and both struck out. The last time, they'd met eyes then fell at each other in hunger. Just another night, another lover. Did either of them even miss the other's arms? Their last drunken night should have been another fluke, but in a few scant weeks they managed to draw together like three starved souls. Even Francis thought that was impressive.

He shook his head and remembered he needed to hurry. After setting his ingredients aside, he took out a pot to start boiling water. A smile came to his face just thinking of how Gilbert would respond to the potatoes he bought. Was it because he was German? But Gilbert loved potatoes almost as much as he loved blueberry pancakes. Wouldn't he be surprised? Francis started to hum as he peeled, feeling very pleased with himself.

Gilbert grunted and lifted his face out of the sea of navy he swam in, only to realize that sea was a pillow. He scrunched his nose back into place since it flattened in his odd sleeping position. Instead of insomnia, he found himself sleeping too much now. He loved sleep for sure, but his body must have been trying to catch up with all it lost. He didn't find this troublesome, though he had been doing something. Gilbert eyed the book in front of him and quickly looked away. He fell asleep for a reason. Sitting up, he turned his attention to what woke him.

"Francis, is that you cooking? Smells good," he called with a yawn. He rubbed his hair into a sexy, messy sort of style. Because yeah, messy was in season wasn't it? He stared over the couch's back into the kitchen. Francis wandered out after a half minute to lean his arms against the couch.

"Of course. Who else could coax this scent of the divine into our home. Will you thank me for a German potato salad?" Francis teased with a toss of hair over his shoulder. He stood at attention, waiting for adulation to fall on him. Gilbert sneered and decided not to give it to him. Flopping down on his stomach again, he rolled his eyes.

"In your dreams. You're cooking that for yourself, not me." When Francis huffed and stalked back to the kitchen, Gilbert let a smile crack. Nothing warmed his mood like teasing that man. And his food had a certain warmth too. Francis didn't care for potatoes much so it came off a little too obvious, even desperate, that he cooked for Gilbert. The gesture made him as happy as it irritated him. The food did smell good. Gilbert breathed in a deep whiff before he picked up his fallen book from the floor. It opened to a random page and he just stared, not even finding the energy to turn to a more relevant section.

His happiness didn't last long when looking at the thing that forced him to bury his face in a pillow and fall asleep in the first place. A long sigh pulled out of him, audible all the way into the kitchen. He wasn't in the mood to praise nor complain it seemed. Francis looked back from eying the recipe he found on his phone. Didn't Gilbert seem a little off all of a sudden?

"What's wrong Gil? Weren't you just being yourself when you said that? If you really don't want potato salad, you can just say it," Francis mumbled though it hurt him to even think that a person didn't want his food. Gilbert sighed again and held his book into the air for Francis to see. It wouldn't do him any good to hide what bothered him right now. Francis set the heat on a simmer before he moved closer to read the cover. "…a course catalogue? The quarter just barely started. Isn't it a bit early to be looking at that?"

Gilbert just shook his head, his face buried in his other arm. "Not looking for classes," he mumbled against his skin. Francis understood the muffled noises by sheer Gilbert reading skills. He had to wait another minute for an explanation. "I need to pick a major and I have no idea what I want to do. I need to declare it by the end of the year or I dunno, I get kicked out or something." He didn't pay attention to the tiny details his counselor gave him earlier that day. It just depressed and lit a fire under his butt, which depressed him even more. He had the motivation to find a career path and no direction to go with that energy.

Francis perched on the arm rest and took the catalogue from Gilbert. The page gave details for modern dance and music classes. Francis clucked in distaste before turning amusement to his friend. "Hopefully you weren't looking at this. Though I suppose if you want to prance around in spandex, I could still find love in my heart for you." Gilbert's eyes widened as his mouth fell open.

"The hell?! Don't be an idiot!" He snapped the book closed on Francis' fingers, eliciting a loud cry. "Come on, this is a serious issue here! If you're going to pretend you're responsible, you should help me figure out what to do with my life." Any other day Gilbert would cry at the thought of following Francis' advice, but he was low on options. Francis did have his moments and he might have a better answer than Antonio. That idiot would just say 'chase your dreams!' What good did that do if Gilbert didn't know what his were?

Francis hummed and stroked the little bit of scruff on his chin as if to accent he was in fact the oldest in the room. "You really didn't have something you wanted to be when you grew up? I know you had it tough, but didn't you want something?"

Gilbert shrugged one shoulder in a careful manner. He didn't like talking about his past. It took enough out of him to tell Francis and Antonio about the car accident that killed his parents so many years ago. He still had many more secrets no one knew. "I guess I always figured I'd join the army and that'd be that. I never even thought to go to college until a year out of the gymnasium. I needed a change, but now I've got all these questions to answer and…shit, what am I gonna do, Francis?" He dropped his eyes, a frown pulling unbidden on his lips.

Francis couldn't help but stare. Gilbert didn't often show his weaker side even to his best friends. This level of insecurity brought a soft smile to Francis' face. He laid a hand on Gilbert's head, comforting. "I'm sorry, I can't answer that for you. You still have the entire year though so just keep looking. These things have a way of showing themselves when you stop trying so hard. Don't lose faith yet." He ruffled the other's white hair before picking it back into a semblance of order. He glanced back to the kitchen where he heard his potatoes calling.

Before he could fully pull away, Francis turned back, tilting his head when something occurred to him. "And maybe you should talk to Antonio about this. I know he doesn't seem like he'd be much help, but he has a little experience in this kind of crisis. Through all the stupid chatter, sometimes he has the best advice." Antonio had his crisis and dropped out of school before Gilbert met them, but Francis stood by his side during it. That had been a hell of a time and the year they became true best friends, not just people who just always existed in each other's lives. He didn't want Gilbert to fall into the sort of bad place they'd been in at the time.

Gilbert watched him with silent eyes, then sighed. He propped his chin on his hand and waved Francis off when he glanced back at the kitchen again. "Yeah, maybe I will do that." He took up the catalogue again and flipped to the list of available degrees with more energy than before.

By the time Antonio trudged, actually trudged, through the door, Gilbert was setting the table. Francis taught him the sophisticated table setting system, but he dumped his forks and spoons together anyway. Francis finished licking his wooden spoon as he caught sight of Antonio. He grinned and waved like they hadn't seen each other in years. Antonio brightened up before his shoes even came off.

"Welcome home, honey!" Francis cooed as Antonio fell into his arms, trying not to laugh when he pecked Francis on the cheek. Gilbert gaped at them, his expression somewhere between amusement and disgust.

"Get a room you retards!" he huffed. When he muttered, "I don't know why I'm friends with you guys," they all knew he smiled behind his scowl.