Antonio, in a fetal position on the Beilschmidt's coach, sobbed softly. Ignoring him, Gilbert walked in from the kitchen toting three beers. He handed one to Francis, who was sitting in the arm chair, and then offered one to curled mess on the coach. The Spanish boy didn't look up. The albino shrugged and set it down on the coffee table. He opened his and sat back with a sigh of satisfaction.

"Didn't go well, I take it?" Gilbert finally asked. There was no response, but the brunet's sobs grew louder. Francis winced. "I did warn him," the blond muttered, before turning towards Antonio. "Come on," Francis coaxed. "Sit up and tell us what happened, cher. Perhaps we can help!"

"Uh-uh," the albino immediately negated, rearing back and waving his hands in front of him in denial. "Birdie called me earlier and told me that I was not allowed to help Antonio win back the Italian brat. Sorry, 'Tonio, you two are on your own."

Antonio finally looked up, wet tracks making marks on his puzzled face. "Who's 'Birdie'?" he asked, only to be talked over by a snickering Francis. "What," the blonde smirked, "You were threatened with the couch?"

The German boy scowled. "NO! He just…" and here his words trickled off into an incomprehensible murmur. "He what?" Francis asked, grinning. "He said he'd never make pancakes for me ever again, all right?" Gilbert spat out, his normally pale face now closer to the color of his eyes. Antonio just looked from one to the other, extremely confused. Francis was practically rolling on the floor in laughter, and the white-haired boy was telling him to shut up, that he didn't understand the awesomeness that was Mattie's pancakes!

Finally, Francis took pity on Antonio and told him that "Birdie" was Gil's boyfriend. "He's trés mignon," the French boy said with a fond smile. "But I do not understand what he has against you, Antonio. Matthieu is not the type to arbitrarily take sides, even for his brother. "

Gilbert laughed. "Especially for his brother!" he added. "But yeah, I don't know. He sounded super pissed, actually. Something about postcards? I didn't really get it."

Antonio had no idea, either. "'Brother'?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. "Oh yeah," Gilbert realized. "I guess you wouldn't know, would you? Mattie is Alfred's twin brother."

The Spanish boy's tan face turned pale. "He's everywheeerrre!" The sobs renewed. Francis and Gilbert both face-palmed. Finally, the auburn-haired boy managed to choke out, "I l-love him!"

Francis tilted his head. "Alfred?" he asked, mouth twitching.

"Noooo!" the Spanish boy wailed. "Lovino!"

His two friends sobered. Antonio was obviously in pain. Hesitantly, Gilbert ventured, "Yeah, that's another thing Matt said. He said that he was sure you didn't mean to hurt Lovino, but you obviously understood him so little that you may as well have hated him."

The Spanish boy stilled. "What I mean to say is," the albino went on uncomfortably. "Maybe being in love with him isn't enough, you know? You have to be good for him, too."

After a long, uncomfortable pause, Antonio said quietly, "What do you mean 'I don't understand him'? What did I do wrong?" Gilbert looked at the third member of their trio in desperation. "Back me up!" he mouthed quickly. Francis stepped in smoothly, "What I think he means, cher, is that sometimes the two of you do not have the best communication, n'est-ce pas? For example, you did not said goodbye to him when you left, did you?"

"Well, no," Antonio answered, bewildered, "But that was because I knew that if I saw him, I wouldn't have been able to force myself to leave."

"Did he know that?"

"Umm…" Antonio paled even more, this time in guilt. "Uh, no."

His two friends just gave him pointed looks.

A long silence filled the room, in which Antonio looked increasingly more despairing. "What am I going to do?" he mumbled.

"There, there," the blond boy said lightly, patting the Spaniard's back. "Even if Gil has betrayed you, you still have me, mon cher!"

Not insulted, Gilbert just snorted. "You're just supporting him 'cause you know Kirkland's gonna take Alfred's side," the red-eyed boy accused.

Francis shrugged. "What, can't I have two reasons?"

xXx

Every story has two sides. (Except that Gil is totally whipped. That's indisputable.)

Translations:

Trés mignon- very cute

N'est-ce pas- isn't that so

Mon cher- my dear