-Lovino-

A ruckus by the front gates of the main building drew Lovino's attention.

What the fuck?

He made his way over, noting that the screeching mob was made up of mostly girls. It was a damn mob in there, and it was almost impossible to squeeze his way to the front without shoving a few out of the way (which made his inner Italian wince, it simply isn't done). He usually refrained from cussing at women, especially young ones, but the cloud of mixing perfumes and shoving bodies were going to make him go against his personal rule real damn fast if this kept up.

Finally managing to shove close to the front, he glared up at the sky.

Of fucking course.

Just beyond the gates were those three idiots. Now, he knew that Antonio was attractive, but he had to sort of begrudgingly admit that those other two losers were as well. Fuck his stupid, eighteen year-old hormones. They were still creepy fuckers, though.

-3rd person-

Gilbert leaned against the gates, immersed in his phone, the very picture of sexy nonchalance. He wore baggy jeans, red converse, and a tattered black T-shirt that he somehow made look like it had just been ordered out of a fashion magazine. It had red and yellow words scrawled in German, and Lovino didn't know what it said, but it was most likely inappropriate. The dark sunglasses hid his eyes, but the silver hair was impossible to miss, along with the bird that rested on his head ("His name is Gilbird, isn't he awesome?"). He was the rebellious delinquent that every girl shouldn't want, but did anyway.

Antonio sat on the ledge next to him, donned in a white V-neck that did nothing to hide his muscular torso (thank you, bullfighting). The Spanish flag was printed diagonally across his chest, with the words 'Viva España' stamped across his abdomen. He wore loose skinny jeans a shade lighter than Gilbert's pants, and high-tops. His tan sunglasses didn't completely hide his eyes, unlike the German's. He was leaning back, face towards the sun, tan skin illuminated. With the bouncy chocolate curls, bright green eyes, and extremely toned body, he was the Spanish male model who had just jumped off the page.

And finally, Francis leaned over next to Antonio, long blonde hair flowing in the warm wind. His upper half was in a light-blue, short-sleeved Oxford button-down. His dark-wash jeans were by far the tightest, and dressed up with dark-brown dress shoes. He was the cause of most of the screaming, not because he was the most attractive, mind you. It was because while he chatted with Antonio, every so often he would turn, lower his white sunglasses, and wink and/or smirk at the flock of screeching females. He was the romantic womanizer (disgusting perv, in Lovino's opinion) who knew how to make you swoon, and who you knew would break your heart, but you couldn't help but fall into his clutches and/or bed.

This was the infamous Bad Touch Trio, a group of heartbreakers idolized by men and women alike. They were invited to all the parties, confessed to almost every day, and got in trouble almost twice as often as that. High school had been their playground; college their bitch. They were even rumored to have not gone through puberty, that one day *poof*, they had all gone from rowdy kids to rowdy young adults, no acne, gangly limbs, or awkward hormones at all. Their senior prank had gone down in history for causing the largest clusterfuck the school had ever seen, from running water shorting out an entire computer lab, to melted chocolate everywhere, including teachers' desks, to a live llama that no one knew where the fuck they even got it. That wasn't even including the collateral damage; the llama had snuck into the library and munched on several books and some important paperwork before animal control captured it. School staff, police officers, animal control, the students, everybody knew they did it; but with no witnesses, no evidence, and an airtight alibi followed to the T by all three, they walked across that stage unscathed.

So when Antonio had packed up to head back to Spain to practice bullfighting, of course his friends came with. His house, which was inherited from his abuelo, was enormous, with more than enough room for them to stay while they all attended college. From breakups, to stupid decisions (a lot of stupid decisions), to hangovers, they all stayed together, and would stay together. And now Antonio was a famous bullfighter, Francis had his own extremely popular restaurant named 'L'Iris España' (The Spanish Iris), and Gilbert owned/bartended the exclusive club 'Rebellion'.

In your faces, counselors. 'You're going to have a hard time in the future' their asses.

But Antonio looked over towards the gates again, hoping to see a glimpse of that stubborn curl that symbolized su corazon's presence. Ask, and you shall receive, because there he was glaring/scowling at all three of them, throwing irritated glances at the swarm behind once in a while. With a huff, he dug around in his bag before pulling out his student I.D. Flashing it at the security guard, he groaned out,

"They're with me. I take responsibility for them, for whatever fucking reason."

The guard nodded, and opened the gates. The three strolled in as if they opened the place, Gilbert laughing.

"I remember these days as a freshie. We had an awesome time, right guys?"

"Si, Gilbert. Although, I could of done without Algebra. Or English. Or Economics. Or-"

"We get it, mon ami. The only classes you enjoyed were the exercise classes and study hall."

"I don't even know why you liked Phys. Ed courses. You're such a lazy asshole outside of bullfighting."

"Siestas are tradition-"

"You take like four a day-"

"Practice makes me tired-"

"What about outside of season-"

"OI."

They all turned towards the irritated Italian, who looked ready to punch them all in the face.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"We're taking you on vacation!"

"What?"

"Kesesesese! We're kidnapping you and your friend Mattie for an awesome three day weekend! We wanted to take your bro as well, but Ludwig wouldn't go, so he didn't either."

Lovino looked ready to rip someone's balls off. Probably Ludwig's.

Most definitely Ludwig's.

"What? But where the hell-"

"You'll stay at Toni's house, of course! It's amazingly huge. I'm sure there's enough space for a grouchy little Italian and a shy little Canadian."

"WHAT-"

"You agreed to let us show you around, Lovi~! You didn't think that we could do that in one day, did you?"

"But, your fights-"

"Aren't until the week after next! And I know you don't have class on Saturdays, so it all works out~"

They must have taken his stunned/infuriated silence as agreement, because Antonio was dragging him away towards the dormitories.

"How the hell do you know where you're going?"

"Didn't I tell you, Lovi? I went here as well! I was a Culinary Arts major, along with Francis, and Gil was a Digital Arts major~"

"FUCK."