"Hey... Birdie! Birdie, wake up!" Gilbert shook Matthew's sleeping form impatiently, but the blonde just groaned. True, he probably barely got any sleep last night considering he went to sleep at two in the morning, but this was important. "There's like, a foot of snow outside! Snow is awesome! We need to go play in the fucking snow!"

Matthew still didn't move, so the ghost opened the window and scooped up a handful of snow from the top of the hedge below it. Packing the frigid substance into a ball, he loomed over the sleeping teenager and was about to shove it under his covers when suddenly groggy, violet eyes opened up and looked up at him in confusion. Gilbert almost thought he had forgotten what had happened the night before, but this seemed more like a confusion that came from finding out somebody was staring at you in your sleep- oh, yeah.

"Hey, what are you... What time is it...?" Matthew fumbled around his bedside table and grabbed his glasses, then looked at the time, which was six-thirty. "What the heck, Gilbert? It's barely dawn, nobody's awake yet."

"But there is so much snow on the ground! C'mon, I wanna play in the snow with you, and I can't do that when people will see random footprints and flying snowballs, duh."

"Ugh... Fine. But let me get dressed first..." Matthew's eyes rested on the snowball in Gilbert's hand. "What is that?"

The albino suddenly remembered what he was about to do to get the formerly sleeping teen to wake up, and quickly hid the snowball behind his back. "... Nothing..."

Matthew raised a slender eyebrow, but didn't question him. "Alright then... I'm getting dressed. If you could... um..." The blonde blushed, and Gilbert immediately got the message.

"Oh! Yeah, I'll just be waiting outside the door here." He chuckled and stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind him and sinking down to the carpeted floor. He listened through the door and heard the rustle of sheets as he imagined Birdie getting out of bed and slinking to his dresser drawers. He heard the wood squeak as the drawers were opened, then a pause. He cocked his head to the side and pressed his ear to the door, and heard fabric shuffling and falling to the floor. He blushed when he figured out Matthew must me stripping, and scooted away from the door, trying to get dirty thoughts out of his head before they even got there. Nein, Birdie was too cute to be thinking of like that. Sure, in life Gilbert had been a huge flirt along with his two best friends, but it was different somehow now that he was dead. Or maybe it was just something about Matthew himself. Either way, it felt weird, like something fluttering around in his stomach.

He shrugged it off as nothing, though, and when Matthew came back out of his room, fully decked out in heavy winter clothes to keep warm, Gilbert grinned and stood up, grabbing onto his gloved hand and dragging him through the house and out the front door.

It was still dark. The only light came from the street lamps that ran along the road and a faint glow over the horizon that promised morning. Pure, pristine, untouched snow glistened in that little light in a way that was almost surreal. Gilbert gazed upon it in wonder for a few seconds, and then frolicked into the deep snow, whooping and kicking it around, marring the perfect drifts. After making sure that the scenery was thoroughly ruined, he fell back into the puffy blanket of snow unharmed. He glanced back at Birdie, who was still standing on the porch, and waved him over. The blonde rolled his eyes and calmly walked across the yard to where Gilbert lay.

"Was all of that really necessary?" he asked, sitting beside the ghost who shook his head in response.

"Nah, but it was so fun! Come on, snow angels!" Gilbert splayed out his arms and legs and started frantically moving them up and down to leave an imprint in the snow. Once satisfied with the shape, he stood and signed his name with his finger in the head. Matthew still hadn't moved from his sitting position, not even to lie down. Gilbert frowned and knelt down in front of him. "Hey, Birdie, you alright?"

He looked like he was in a daze, just staring into space with half-lidded eyes. The ghost waved a hand in front of his face, but Matthew's attention remained elsewhere. Finally, in a last-ditch effort, Gilbert balled up some snow and smacked him upside the head with it.

"Huh?" He turned his attention to a confused (and totally not worried) Gilbert, and shook his head. "Oh... Sorry, I must have zoned out or something..." A smile split his face and he turned more cheerful. "We were doing snow angels, right?" he chirped, and threw himself back to the snow, imitating what Gilbert had done. The ghost hesitated a moment before laughing and moving a few paces over to make another snow angel. This went on for an hour until Matthew complained it was getting cold, so they went inside.

"Kesesese! That was fun, Birdie! What 'cha gonna do now?" Gilbert asked as Matthew shed his wet outer wear in the tiled kitchen and hung them on the back of a chair.

"Well, after all that, I'm hungry. So I'm making pancakes. Do you want… er, can you eat?" he questioned as he started getting out ingredients for the fluffy breakfast food.

"Heh, kid, I can do everything you can do. I'm just invisible," the ghost replied with a smirk. "Bring on the pancakes!"

So Matthew started cooking and Gilbert sat at the kitchen table to watch. The blonde hummed to himself while he mixed and poured and flipped pancakes. Gilbert's mouth was beginning to water. It had been a long time since he'd eaten anything, and these pancakes smelled like something crafted by the embodiment of awesome. He was practically bouncing with excitement when Birdie stacked four of the steaming hot cakes on a plate and set it in front of him with a bottle of brown liquid. Ignoring the bottle, Gilbert grabbed a fork and was about to dig in when Birdie slapped it away. It clattered to the floor.

Gilbert frowned. "What gives? I'm eating here!"

"Aren't you going to put maple syrup on them?"

"Maple-who? Is that what that brown stuff is?" Birdie's eyes went wide as dinner plates.

"You've never had maple syrup?" he asked, disbelieving, and Gilbert shook his head. "Have you been living under a rock or something? You have to try some!" Birdie took up the bottle and poured the contents on top of the ghost's pancakes. "It's like happiness in a bottle. You can't help but love it. I put it with everything that has to do with breakfast. Pancakes, waffles, bacon, eggs, sausage, hot chocolate..." The blonde kept rambling about all the things he put this maple syrup on while Gilbert eyed his now maple-covered pancakes.

"... and that's why you should try it! It's really good, I promise!" Birdie concluded. Gilbert continued to stare at the slow-moving stuff dripping and soaking into his food. Finally he decided that he would have to try the syrup by itself before he ate it together with the pancakes, so he dipped his finger in the pool and tentatively licked it.

The flavor hit his tongue in a sweet explosion. The taste was impossible to explain. He'd never tasted anything like it before, and frankly, he was amazed.

"Holy shit… This stuff is awesome!" he yelled, sucking his finger to get the rest of the syrup off. "Hand me another fork, I gotta see how it tastes on the pancakes!" Birdie retrieved a fork from a drawer and set it next to the plate of pancakes when Alfred walked in the doorway.

"Morning, Mattie! Man, I can smell those pancakes even with my door closed." Gilbert and Matthew looked up at the intruder, the former with distaste. He couldn't eat his pancakes with awesome maple syrup if this guy was here... He got up and sat at the other side of the table.

"Good morning, Al." Matthew greeted, quiet in comparison to his brother. Alfred immediately sat down in the seat Gilbert had been in and began to eat the pancakes without even asking if they were meant for him, earning a loud groan and complaint from the ghost.

"Come ON! I just want some fucking pancakes!" he shouted, but Alfred remained oblivious. "I should've spat in it or something…" he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. Matthew giggled, but covered it up with a cough. The blonde got up to get himself some pancakes, and while he was still turned around, Gilbert leaned over the table and got up in Alfred's face.

"Do you realize what you are doing to me? This is TORTURE! Those are my fucking pancakes! Not yours. MINE. Birdie made those for me, not you. Gott, you are SO FUCKING STUPID." The ghost kept ranting at Alfred, even though he couldn't see or hear him. Matthew was fighting back a smile the whole time his brother was eating.

"Great pancakes, bro." Alfred said when he finished. Only Matthew heard the "Yeah, I know. They were supposed to me mine, you moron..." that Gilbert muttered. "Anyway, the hero's gotta fly. Hanging out with Arthur today. Don't cause any trouble, 'kay?" Alfred continued.

"As if." Matthew retorted, rolling his eyes. His brother ignored him and shrugged on a coat that had been hanging from the rack.

"I'll be back by dark." he called, and opened the door, but then stopped in his tracks. "Dude, Mattie, what happened to all the snow? It's been trampled on..."

"Um, I went outside this morning already."

Alfred kept standing in the doorway. "... and you made snow angels?"

"Uh... Yes?"

"... Whatever, man. Okay, bye."

"Bye, Al."

And with that, Alfred went out and slammed the door behind him. Gilbert got up and stacked some more pancakes on a plate, covering them with syrup just like the last ones.

"Finally. Gott, your brother's an idiot, you know that, Birdie?"

"Yes, I know, Gilbert. Eat your pancakes."

The ghost huffed indignantly, but did as he was told, scooping up a forkful of the fluffy treat into his mouth.

"Mmm… Damn, Birdie, you're an awesome cook!" he exclaimed, taking another, larger bite. "Who knew my first meal in forever would be this awesome! You're gonna cook for me more, right?"

Matthew blushed and looked down. "Ah... Sure, if you want me to..."

Gilbert scarfed down the rest of the pancakes and took it upon himself to put his dish in the sink.

"So… now what do we do?" the ghost asked expectantly. Matthew looked at the clock on the microwave.

"Well, it's only eight. We have the whole day ahead of us. What do you wanna do?"

Gilbert pondered for a moment, then came upon a decision.

"I want you to tell me about yourself. That should take up a lot of time, right?"

"About me...?" Matthew mumbled. "Well... there's not much to say other than I don't have many friends... and people don't really notice me a lot, but you already knew that. What else do you want to know?"

"Everything! There's no way that's all there is to you, Birdie. There's a lot to everybody, even if they don't know it themselves." Gilbert lapsed into one of his rare serious moments that seemed to be getting more frequent in the time spent with Matthew. "When you exist like I have, you know, invisibly, you can study people's lives without interference. I can figure out things about people that I wouldn't know if I didn't hang out with them twenty-four seven." The ghost smirked. "So, I guess you could say that if you don't wanna tell me now, I'll find out eventually."

"But I really don't have much to tell you about!" Matthew excused. "Where do I start?"

Gilbert hummed, presumably thinking, and wandered to "their" bedroom with the blonde in tow. He went in and flopped onto the bed. Matthew sat on the floor, looking up at the albino lying on his bed. Suddenly, Gilbert snapped his fingers and turned to the blond.

"I got it! I'll just ask you questions about your obviously awesome life, and you answer, see? Simple, and you don't have to come up with any bullshit autobiography stuff off the top of your head." Gilbert smiled smugly to himself as if it was the best idea in the world. Matthew rocked back and forth, and Gilbert waited impatiently for his answer.

"Okay, sure. If you're gonna find out eventually… might as well get it out of the way now, eh?"

The ghost chuckled in that strange way of his. "Kesesese, you got that right, Birdie." He sat up and gave the blonde his full attention. "Alright! Let the interrogation begin!"

A/N: Alright, chapter two! Wasn't expecting that, were you? Well, you might have. Last chappie was kind of a cliffhanger. IT DEMANDED ANOTHER CHAPTER. AND ANOTHER AND ANOTHER!

Anyway, I actually did another chapter for this, which is a shock. Don't expect it to be finished any time soon, or fast updates or anything like that. I don't... finish things much... unless it's a oneshot of course. I've got school and stuff to be distracted by. You know, Geometry and Russian and all that crap.

Wrapping up, Vocaloid is at a standstill. Maybe this summer I'll update (or even spring break) when I have more time to write, but until then, it doesn't look like it's going anywhere. Maybe I'll at least publish what I have so far into the next chapter...

OK, that's pretty much it. Sorry, long Authoress Note is long.

~Jel