Feliciana had never been very good at math.
Or history.
Or science for that matter.
But she was particularly awful at math. Which is why after a few desperate pleas coupled with a spattering of crocodile tears, Ludwig Beilschmidt agreed to be her tutor.
"Ve, thank you so much, Luddy!" the hyperactive Italian cooed, latching onto his muscular forearm as they drifted down the hallway to second period English; the German, in turn, blushed a light pink before muttering an, "It's no problem," too distracted by the body pressed tightly to his to chastise the nickname.
"So how is your band going? What's the name again?" the blonde pressed as they settled into adjacent chairs in the classroom. Feliciana's face immediately brightened, and she hugged Ludwig's arm even tighter to her chest, much to the boy's embarrassment.
"Oh, oh, it's going great! We just perfected sorella's song yesterday, and we're doing Madeline's today!" she squealed, attracting many onlookers, including one green-eyed Spaniard who listened with piqued interest. "And the band's called Canta Che Ti Passa, meaning sing and it will pass. Sorella named it; she's always been good with stuff like that, ve~! You're coming to the show, yes?"
Before the blonde-haired German could reply, the eavesdropping Spaniard suddenly rushed over to the duo, his grin practically radiating excitement.
"Ah, hola! Me llamo Antonio Carriedo y soy un estudiante nuevo de Espana. Por favor, pueden decirme el nombre de-!"
The boy came to a sudden halt upon the confused (if not frightened on Feliciana's part) faces staring at him.
"Oh, was I speaking Spanish? Haha, sorry, I tend to do that when I am excited. Anyways, can you tell me the name of the lead singer in your band? The girl who looks exactly like you but meaner?"
Feliciana, relaxing upon the realization that this boy was not some crazy foreigner out to get her family, clapped her hands in understanding.
"You mean my sister? Her name is Lovina! Lovina Vargas! Ve, isn't it nice that sorella has an admirer, Ludwig?" Yet again, Ludwig was prevented from answering as the Spaniard, Antonio, spoke.
"Oh, Lovina, que linda! Do you think you can introduce me?"
-break-
"What is taking that idiot so long? She better not be hanging around with that Potato Bastard or I'll rip him a new one!" Lovina raged, yanking off her t-shirt roughly as Madeline uttered calming words. "And it's our first dress rehearsal! Hamburger Bastard, you better not turn around!" At the threatening tone in the Italian's voice, Alfred, tucked into a corner as the girls changed, pressed his nose closer to the wall, cringing.
Alice scoffed at the outfit she was wearing: an off-the-shoulder white tee with the words "Loving Rabbit" sprawled across the front, one side dipping down so low her red lace bra was clearly evident. A black skirt that reached mid-thigh was accompanied by a pair of fishnet stockings, making her legs look incredibly long though she herself was a mere 5'4. Dirty blonde hair was pulled up into high twin-tails, bangs pinned back by decorative clips; a fuzzy set of rabbit ears was perched on top of her head.
The Briton grimaced in indignation.
"This is bloody embarrassing," she hissed, yanking the skirt a little lower, only to reveal more stomach much to her chagrin.
Madeline's outfit was hardly any better: a tight white tee that ended just below her breasts, revealing a flat expanse of stomach. Her legs were clad in a pair of washed-out denim shorts that stopped a bit above her knees; black suspenders with tiny silver buckles stretched from her belt loops all the way over her shoulders. Her pale blonde bangs were pulled back in a Bump-It while the rest of her hair fanned out wildly behind her. The outfit together didn't sound too bad, but the low-riding jean shorts were so low a bit of black underwear could be seen resting on Madeline's hip.
"Shut it, Tea Bitch. We have to look sexy for this show!" Lovina cried, digging out her mafia-esque costume and raising it above her head. Suddenly, the door burst open and the Italian muttered, "Damn, it's about time you got here, Feliciana!" as she finished yanking on the dress. Turning around, however, she was met not only by her sister's honey-colored gaze but the emerald eyes of a boy.
The same boy Lovina had seen staring sympathetically at her yesterday as she blinked away tomato juice.
There was a moment of silence as Lovina, who had been half-naked two seconds ago, processed the boy's flabbergasted if not aroused expression; his green eyes were wide, mouth agape, tan skin darkening in a heavy blush. He pinched his nose as though any second blood would come gushing out.
Like a ticking bomb, the girls in the room counted down the seconds until Lovina exploded.
3...
2...
1...
"Y-YOU SAW ME, DIDN'T YOU? YOU...YOU...PERVERT! YOU GODDAMN PEEPING TOM! GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT!" Lovina shrieked, throwing the microphone at Antonio's guilty face as he hightailed it out of the band room, the image of Italian panties still embedded in his mind even as his life flashed before his eyes. Even when he had escaped the murderous junior, he could still hear her rampaging through the room, flipping over anything in sight and kicking Alfred repeatedly in the head in embarrassed rage. He exhaled when he thought he was a good distance away, his heart hammering faster than it ever had before; he didn't know if it was because of the life-death experience or because his stomach was full of two-million perverted butterflies.
That girl had such beauty, such passion!
Placing one hand over his still flushed face, the Spaniard thanked God he had moved to America and especially thanked God for creating Lovina Vargas.
-break-
Gilbert didn't know what was wrong with him. He had actually woken up earlier than Ludwig that morning, which was totally unawesome. Ever since he returned from Madeline's house, his entire mojo had been thrown off. That girl was just so confusing! One minute she'd be a stuttering mess, blushing cutely when he cracked corny jokes and pickup lines; the next, she'd be all prim and proper, ignoring all of his attempts at conversation as though she actually didn't like him!
But that was impossible, right?
What girl, or boy for that matter, could resist the awesomeness that was Gilbert Beilschmidt?
He groaned as he glanced at the clock for the third time in the last ten minutes; it was still earlier than six, which, therefore, made it too early for Gilbert. After counting about twenty sheep in an attempt to ease himself into slumber, the Prussian's short attention span kicked in and he was quickly dressing. If he wasn't going to sleep, he might as well get something to eat.
Flipping open his cell, he scrolled through his contacts list, searching for a worthy companion as he sauntered downstairs, his white hair a disheveled mess and fly undone.
Alfred?
No, too loud.
Heracles?
Doubt he'd be awake.
Francy Pants?
...ha, too gay.
His finger twitched as he scrolled over Madeline's name, but then pushed back the strange impulse to call her, knowing that inviting a near stranger to breakfast was too creepy even, for him.
Ah, perfect!
The albino pressed the cell to his ear as he nudged on his Converse, a Spanish voice picking up after the second ring.
"Hola?" Antonio greeted, his voice chipper as always even though it was six in the morning.
"Hey, Toni!" Gilbert yelled into the phone, hoping he had woken up Ludwig with the sheer volume of his voice. "Wanna get some breakfast with me? I can pick you up in five!"
Even though Antonio had just transferred here from Spain, Gilbert had known both him and Francis practically since infancy; hell, they were even closer than he and Elizabeta used to be!
"Ah, sure amigo! Text me when you get here!" came the expectant reply before the line went dead. Plucking a piece of paper from his notebook, Gilbert scrawled a quick message to Ludwig before leaving:
"dear bruder,
I HATE YOU! I'M RUNNING AWAY AND YOU'LL NEVER FIND ME!
haha jk jk, I'm going to breakfast with toni
see you at school
p.s. Im awesome, love gilbert"
Suddenly, his phone beeped, meaning he'd just received a text. Flipping open the cell, his heart stuttered unnecessarily as he saw Madeline's name appear on screen.
From: Birdie;)
To: Me
Message 6:07 AM:
Make sure to bring your laptop so we can work during class! Hope I'm not waking you
From: Me
To: Birdie;)
Message 6:08 AM:
okay and no you're not. Are we meeting up at your house again today?
By the time Bir-Madeline texted back, Gilbert had already pulled into Antonio's driveway, honking his horn impatiently much to Sra. Carriedo's annoyance.
From: Birdie;)
To: Me
Message 6:16 AM:
Well, my brother's having some friends over today...pick me up at five and we can work at Starbucks maybe?
From: Me
To: Birdie;)
Message 6:18 AM:
sounds like a date! see you in class
Now, school was almost over and Gilbert, exhausted after having woken up so early that morning, decided to bail Anatomy. But first he had to find Antonio since he'd given the guy a ride to school and all.
Scanning the hallways after the Spaniard's seventh period teacher disdainfully remarked that Antonio had skipped his class that day, the albino caught sight of a rather tall man peering into the band room.
"Toni, what the fuck?" Gilbert barked, causing the poor man to nearly jump out of his skin. Red eyes met green, and Antonio sighed an, "Oh, it's just you Gilberto. Keep your voice down!"
At this, the Prussian scowled.
"I've been looking everywhere for you! And what the hell are you doing?"
With a sharp yelp, Gilbert found himself yanked to the floor beside his peeping friend, his eyes drawn on a group of girls about to...
Oh sweet Jesus, what were they wearing?
Was that Alice Kirkland, Student Council VP? Her shirt was practically falling off!
"Score, Toni!" the albino cheered, slapping his friend on the back heartily as he tried to catch a better view of the girls.
"Yes, you just missed Feliciana's song. The one with the glasses is going to sing next. Oh, do you see my darling Lovi? She looks so cool playing guitar!" Antonio commented offhandedly before gushing over the pissy auburnette inside.
Lovi? Gilbert thought vaguely.
Why does that name sound familiar?
Before he could ponder the question further, a petite girl in a tight white shirt and suspenders reached for the microphone.
Was that Birdie?
Yes, it had to be. She was still sporting those thin-rimmed glasses and bright red blush.
Oh God, Gilbert didn't know if more blood was rushing to his face or...somewhere much lower.
The blonde leaned into the mic, waiting for a beat. [A/N: Look up Anything I'm Not by Lenka por favor!]
"I will never be, I will never be tall, no
And I will never be, never ever be, sure of it all
Oh, why's the world so cruel to me?
When all, all I ever wanted to be was anything I'm not
Give me a break, a little escape
I am so tired of being me
I want to be free
I want to be new and different
Anything I'm not
I'm not
I will never be, I will never be you, no
I will always be, I will always be me, that I know
But oh, even though I'm happy being me
I want to get away from all this harsh reality, oh
Give me a break, a little escape
I am so tired of being me
I want to be free
I want to be new and different
Anything I'm not
Yeah, give me a break, a little escape
I am so tired of being me
I want to be free
I want to be new and different
Anything I'm not (x2)
Oh, anything I'm not
Give me a break, a little escape
I am so tired of being me
I want to be free
I want to be new and different
Anything I'm not
Yeah, give me a break, a little escape
I am so tired of being me
I want to be free
I want to be new and different
Anything I'm not (x5)"
"Mein Gott," Gilbert breathed, watching the blonde replace the microphone and help the other girls (and Alfred Jones, though who knows why he was there) put back all of the equipment. "She's awesome! And I don't use that word lightly, man. They're almost as good as our band!"
The Bad Touch Trio was a boy band consisting of (who would've guessed) Gilbert, Francis, and Antonio. They hadn't exactly come up with a hit yet, but because of their dashing good looks they were sure to be popular by their first concert.
Suddenly, the albino slumped against the wall then, raking his hands through his snowy white hair as Antonio continued to gawk at the group.
"Oh geez," Gilbert groaned, rubbing his eyes as if pushing away a nightmare. "I think I might actually like Madeline!"