So while I was typing this, my mom walked up to me and assaulted me with a plum. Sadly, the plum died by mastication. And then my mom decides to tell me she gave me the plum because when she ate some they gave her diarrhea. *spits out plum*
Review! :D
Gilbert watched them through the window, Elizaveta and Roderich, the woman he loved, and the man he hated. It was so unfair. He'd known her since childhood, and his feelings had grown from there. It was his best-kept secret, the one that kept him up at night, rolling through the silken pillow sheets.
Outside, Elizaveta leaned her head into Roderich's chest, and the Austrian smiled down on her and lightly kissed her forehead.
His face betraying no emotion, he turned and walked away, a decision having been made. It was final. A choice made after weeks and months of toying with it, a plan crafted from his jealous thoughts and desires. He'd whittled away at it in his spare time, carving off the unnecessary edges and peeling away his typical flair for the dramatic until he had a cold hard spear. And then it was only a matter of deciding to use it.
You don't have the nerve, jeered his negative side, the side whose voice sounded remarkably like a certain Austrian's.
Shut up. I can do this.
He turned away from the window, hot fury boiling in his veins.
"S-Sir?"
If looks could kill, the one Gilbert offered to the young servant who'd tiptoed up behind him would've disintegrated the poor boy on the spot. As it was, it made the other leap, and then cower slightly behind the paper he was holding as if it could protect him from the incendiary effects of the heated glare. "What is it?" snapped the albino. "What do you want?"
"Eh...sir, M-Miss Elizaveta wishes to invite you to her..." his voice, already a whisper, trailed off into silence.
"Her what?" Gilbert snapped, a dreadful feeling uncurling inside him. The servant just shivered, blue eyes downcast, heedless of the bright red eyes boring into his skull. "Speak up, Weichei, before I have you locked up for impeding a lord."
The servant squeaked as if he'd been kicked and hastily resumed, albeit with more stuttering. "H-her wedding, s-sir. She's in-invited you to her w-wedding tomorrow."
Her wedding. "Her wedding," Gilbert repeated out loud, and then said it again, slowly, tasting the words as they came off his tongue. "Her wedding." He said it with a measured pace, overly calm. She's getting married to him. That bastard.
The servant backed up, but not quick enough. The albino leaped forwards in a flash of movement, his hands around the small blond's throat. "Is that what she said? Are you certain?"
Whimpering, the boy held up the paper as if it were a shield. Gilbert released him, ignoring him as he slumped to the ground behind him. He was intent on the invitation as he strode down the hall. In plain, slightly curled sans serif script, it read simply, 'Miss Elizaveta Hedervary invites Gilbert Beilschmidt to her wedding to Roderich Edelstein, scheduled tomorrow at sundown.'
Walking into his rooms, where at last he could have some privacy, he re-re-re-read the invitation, branding the information to the back of his skull before peeling off his black gloves and thrusting the letter and his clenched fist into the lantern flame.
He didn't make a sound as the paper burnt, and as the skin burnt as well.