Synopsis: At first glance, Serge Battour seems to be the model student, the one every other student both admires and envies. What Gilbert Cocteau discovers, however, is how the other side to his personality is the complete opposite. (A.K.A. The character role swap that no one asked for but has kept the author awake at night for nearly two years)
In Other Words: Slutty!Serge (Gilbert-esque!Serge) and Good-Morals!Gilbert (Serge-esque!Gilbert), but they still maintain bits and pieces of their original characters
Author's Note: If I have to come onto this website to post a Kaze to Ki no Uta fanfic once a year just to keep this archive from dying, then by gods I will. I've even gone a step further and plan on making this a multi-chapter story. Other than that, enjoy!
The shadows welcome anyone who welcomes them. If you make peace with the shadows, they may become your greatest ally. They will bring cooling shade when the sun becomes overbearing. They will give shelter within them when you wish to hide. They will shield you from whatever problems you may face while exposed to the light.
While they do provide useful cover, there is a downside to an alliance with them. Once you take cover, you are left vulnerable to any dangers within the darkness that may lurk around. The most deadly threat to you within the shadows, if not anything else, is yourself. Being left alone with only your thoughts in a place where nothing else can be visibly seen can prove to be self-destructive at times.
Fortunately for Gilbert, he's spent enough years co-existing with the shadows to know how self-destructive his thoughts can be. With not many people to turn to, the shadows became the closest he's ever had to a friend, and his thoughts were his only source of entertainment that he consistently took interest in.
What sort of things will I think of today?
Am I going to be questioning my existence again?
How long do I have until there's no need for me to waste space?
... God, I'm not even worth listening to myself, am I?
Yes, many of his thoughts are self-deprecating, but it's better than being left with silence sometimes. As much as silence is necessary for taking the time to find himself or understand his thoughts, he'd rather think than leave his mind blank. He'd rather wonder about how his day will turn out instead of waiting to see how it will unfold by himself.
He's able to hear a lot from outside the darkness while he's inside it. No one pays attention to him or their surroundings in general when they whisper rumors and reveal secrets. He's witnessed people turn against each other or even seek a hiding place to conceal whatever actions need concealing. And every now and then, he would catch word about himself.
"Did you hear? There's a new student coming next week."
"The head of the Class B students Karl Meiser said he'll be a transfer student who grew up in Tyrol as a child."
"Isn't that in Austria?"
"Right! Maybe he speaks both German and French!"
"Ah, but you know what this means, don't you? Gilbert Cocteau's finally going to get a roommate. He's been in Room 17 as the odd one out until now."
Gilbert didn't think much of it. He doesn't need to have anything to do with whoever this transfer student, who will double as his future roommate, may be. People should be capable of coexisting with each other as long as they are able to not be a bother to one another. There wouldn't even be a need to get along with this person as long as he didn't annoy him.
In a way, there's a benefit to choosing to predict the future than to watch it play out. However, there was no way he would have been able to see how his soon-to-be roommate would change his preferred life in an alliance with the shadows.
The first thing Gilbert recognized after returning to his room from breakfast was a head of short, raven black curls. Then he noticed tanned skin, noticeably out of place in a place like France. It wasn't until that raven head turned that he met eyes that reminded him of a doe - large, bright, innocent-looking, with a chocolaty color to them.
"Oh, am I your roommate?"
And that voice. It matched those eyes and that gentle beam now across his room's intruder's lips. So sweet and warm like sunshine...
... It's only been a minute since he opened his door and he was already annoyed.
"You wouldn't be in my room if you weren't," he muttered a reply, loud enough for the other to hear. Closing the door, he strode to his desk to pick up his satchel of school materials, looking back upon turning around to face the boy again after slinging the strap through his head and arm. "Gilbert Cocteau. So, I heard you can speak German."
As if expecting to hear that, the smile only grew brighter, and Gilbert's mood only turning more sour on the inside. "Guten tag, Gilbert, mein name ist Serge Battour. Ich hoffe, dass wir miteinander auskommen." He couldn't speak German, but he did understand him enough to know now that his name is Serge. It sounded like an okay name, at the very least.
Out of courtesy, he held out a hand. Serge, however, only stared down at the gesture.
"Why do you hold out your left hand?"
"I am left-handed."
"... I see."
Serge grabbed his hand, eyeing briefly how his skin contrasted with that of pale tones which he was touching, before locking his gaze upon Gilbert again. The latter was impressed, for the former chose to grab his left hand with his right. The smile thinned out to be more so that the teeth were not as visible as before.
"You can tell I know already, that a left-handed handshake is a means of saying goodbye."
Gilbert allowed a satisfied grin to rest on his lips, pulling his hand away. "Don't get in my way, and I won't get in yours. Need any help getting to your first class?"
"The dorm head Karl Meiser will be showing me around, but thanks. Maybe we'll have some classes together."
"Let's hope." Let's not. "Oh, and, welcome to Lacombrade Academy." He left the room, then, leaving the noirette to finish unpacking his luggage.
Serge apparently had the right mind to hope in his stead. Out of the classes they took, there was only one class where they were not together. Gilbert called it beginner's luck, but knew it wouldn't last. Having suddenly transferred in the beginning of the middle of the school year, it wouldn't be long before the transfer student's classes were to change, and they would be out of each other's hair.
Or at least, that's what Gilbert thought.
Two months passed before either of them knew it. Serge mostly comes to him for advice about the school or about class work or homework on the days he's absent, but it didn't seem like he needed much help as soon as he got into the charts for the top academic students in their class. He became popular among his classmates and those of the other classes, sometimes being crowded by anyone with questions of all kinds - "What kind of studying habits do you have?" "Can you help me with this?" "Are you available for tutoring?"
It's come as a surprise that he's refused to be placed in a large group of friends. He's only become the best friend of the dormitory director Karl and Pascal Biquet, a young man who's been held back so many years that Karl is the only one who's convinced him to join the latter in graduating with him; otherwise, he would have possibly been in his twenties were he to finally choose to leave the academy. Even with those two, Serge seemed to enjoy going off on his own, exploring the school grounds when he wasn't busy, and only reappeared for meals in the cafeteria or returning from giving tutoring sessions to whoever asks.
Despite being invited to Arles during the one day a month where the students are allowed to leave the school grounds during those two months, he would always decline. Gilbert thought nothing of it, as he chose to stay at school as well, and was content with having Room 17 all to himself. Other than the insisted homework sessions with his roommate and nightly roll calls before bed, he rarely saw the latter, so he found simple contentment in the living arrangements. They were going along with his proposal on the day they met where they stayed out of each other's way.
He only ever needed the shadows to keep him company, anyways. When the day came for the students to ride carriages out to Arles, he arranged for himself to be curled up in a dark corner where two walls met inwards in the outdoors. A book assigned by his literature class in his lap, he took to reading with his back against the corner in silence. The darkness shaded him from the autumn sunshine and the wind barely bothered him. If he only had one qualm, it would have to be that sometimes, the wind carries people's voices.
"You were a great help to me today, Serge."
"Ah, thank you, Monsieur Blough."
"Please, just Max is fine by me."
Gilbert flashed his gaze upward from his book to find Serge and Max Blough from Class A strolling along the building, still far from where he sat, hidden by the darkness of the walls' shadows and that of a bush that covered him. He didn't know much about the latter, only that he still had two years left of school before he would have to start applying for universities next year. From what he's read for the chart of students by class level and their academic performances, Blough has fair grades, but lacked in one or two of the subjects he studied.
Was he really so dense in whatever those classes were that he had to enlist an underclassman for help?
"But as my upperclassman, I should be formal," Serge then rebutted. "You may have been my student for a brief time today, but we should remain on terms by our class."
"Believe me, Serge, those terms won't exist between us."
They walked closer towards Gilbert's hiding place, prompting the blond to curl up further to make himself smaller. His already thin frame made this easier for him to do. He watched them stop only a couple meters away from where he sat. Serge set his book bag down on the grass and pressed his back up against the stone wall behind him. Blough did the same before placing his hands on either side above Serge's head to overshadow him. With the trees and bushes behind the upperclassman, they must be just as hidden away as Gilbert was.
"Calling you Max sounds too... intimate," Serge said with hesitance in his voice. When a hand larger than his own was placed on his dark-skinned cheek, a light red brought even more color to both cheeks, and his breath hitched at the same time.
In his spot, Gilbert's eyes narrowed at the sight. There was a sick feeling in his gut that told him he knew what was to happen next.
"Remember, what did you propose I give you, in exchange for your tutorage?" Max asked him in a low tone. "You said I looked like someone who had something you wanted. Isn't that right?"
The noirette's eyes seemed to darken. His shoulders slumped carelessly, and he grew lax against the wall. He nodded slowly as his eyes wandered from those of the other... and down his body. A gulp emitted from his throat.
"C-Correct."
"And you said you'd do one other thing, anything I ask, if I agree to give you what you want." Now closer, Max blew lightly into his ear, causing him to shiver. "Didn't you?"
"Right a-again."
Max smirked. "Call me by my first name, then. It's part of becoming my lover."
He made their lips smash together, the hand on Serge's cheek now pressed against his nape. Gilbert hurriedly looked around for a way out, to find that he was trapped by the large bush in front of him. Any sudden movement through it could cause the leaves to rustle and reveal his presence. He unfortunately had to resort to staying in his place and look away from the sight before him.
God, how inconvenient, he thought. So annoying... Why did my bad luck worsen the moment I met him?
No wonder he was annoyed by Serge the day they met in the beginning. He had this feeling that there was something unnatural about that smile, something that was completely off about how polite and perfect he seemed to be in the eyes of his admirers. Adding on with his constant disappearances, the blond was too content with their living arrangement that he didn't see anything strange, or at least never looked into it.
His book forgotten in his lap, his hands over his ears did nothing to block out his roommate's moans as their kissing continued. He could also barely hear the rustling of clothes and didn't need to look over or through the bush to know they were being removed or undone. The occasional gasp told him that Max's hands must be roaming over that tanned body now, heightening what must be the shared excitement between the two of them.
Unable to muffle the noises no matter how hard he tried, he chose to bury his face in his knees to avoid accidentally looking upon the sight. He was doomed to listen to every needy moan, every whimper and whine that the wind carried his way. A few soft thumps on the ground made him predict they must be moving on with their activities in a position where they had a better chance of not getting caught.
"Another," he heard Serge groan softly. "B-Blough- Ngh! Put a-a-another in already...!"
"Call me how I want you to," Max smugly replied. "Or maybe you really don't want this. Maybe you don't actually want me to get you off?"
There was a brief lack of coherent speech for a moment, just a whimper that resembled that of a starving puppy. The "puppy" in question began to pant softly, his craving possibly rising even more.
"... Max, p-please..." This time, the groans turned into submissive whining. "I need another finger, M-Max. Give it to me a- Ah! Yes! Just like that!"
The quiet begging for continuing to be fingered continued for quite a time until all of the noises stopped. Gilbert decided to take the risk of lifting his head up to see if it was all finally over, only to discover that this may as well be considered the beginning. He could see Serge through the bush, shirt buttons undone and pants and undergarments stretched at his knees, relaxing in his position on all fours. Behind him sat Max on his knees, fully clothed save for the slight lowering of his own pants and underwear, pouring onto his hand what looked to be oil from a bottle. The bottle was cast aside before the oiled hand was lowered and soon hidden by Serge's body.
All that escaped Serge was a low moan when Max pushed his hips forward. They stayed in that position for a while before the latter started moving, and his head lowered until his hair covered his face as he slowly picked up the pace.
That was when green eyes met brown. Gilbert was frozen in place, but Serge never let it be known that they were being watched. Rather, he kept the other locked on him to show how blown out his pupils were and how swollen his lips were from being ravished. Every time there was an attempt to look away, he let out a moan louder than the other ones elicited from the very back of his throat, insisting without speaking that Gilbert should keep watching. To his amusement, he actually did, just because he feared that he would be found out about were Serge to tell Max.
He wasn't sure what to make of Serge's strange behavior. First he turns out to be the opposite of the person he's convinced the majority of the school to see him as, and then he seems to be enjoying having someone watch him be thrusted into. He wasn't a pervert, he didn't enjoy thinking about sex nor did he find entertainment in watching from his spot. He most certainly would have preferred going on with his life without knowing this side to his roommate.
Yet, he forced himself to endure it all until the end, when Serge covered his mouth with his hand to muffle his cry once he finally came, Max following behind him with a grunt. The two cleaned themselves with a towel from his bag and dressed themselves.
"I'll see you again?" the noirette asked, completely clean, as if he didn't just have sex in the first place. The smile he had was... sickeningly innocent. He seemed satisfied by the kiss pressed against his lips, this one much gentler than the one that initiated their not-so-secret endeavor. "I'll take it as a yes."
His upperclassman left first to avoid suspicion in case anyone happened to pass by. Before he left, he stared right at Gilbert through the bush, and smirked.
And the unfortunate blond knew that he's going to need to find a new hiding spot.
"Did you enjoy the show?"
Gilbert refused to speak a word to Serge that night after dinner. He refused to do so much as look at him ever since he went back to their dorm to finish reading his book. The only time he looked at him again was by accident, when he caught sight of him walking with Max Blough towards an unoccupied table, and the latter decided to look back with that devilish smirk when it seemed no one else was looking. Since then, he turned to reading for the distraction he so desperately needed to get this afternoon's event out of his head for at least more than an hour, for it had been plaguing him as soon as he was left alone again.
"You can't ignore me forever, Gilbert," Serge said in a matter-of-fact tone. "I'm sure you're aware of that, right?"
But there was no reply. Just the loud, exaggerated flip of a page in the book that was much more interesting than forming any sort of conversation at the moment.
With a huff, said book was removed out of the pale hands that were once holding them. "Will you talk to me now?"
"And what do you expect us to talk about?" Gilbert finally bit back without looking at him. "You tutored Blough in exchange for sex, and just so happened to do it right outside where I was reading. I was at the wrong place at the time. Case closed."
There was a hum. "Actually, I'd say the timing was quite perfect."
"... What's that supposed to mean?"
Now out of his uniform and in a nightshirt, Serge appeared right beside his desk. He leaned against it whilst looking down at him. "Sex outdoors is much more exciting when there's a chance of being seen. To me, at the least."
It took a moment of processing before his words were understood. "You... knew I was there all along. You wanted me to see you." He looked up at the boy leaning against his desk, who smiled in response.
"So you do have some brain cells after all!"
Flinching at the insult, he stood up and left his desk so he could change out of his own uniform. "Whatever your game is, I want no part of it. I thought we agreed to not bother each other." One by one the buttons of his shirt were removed from each hole before he removed it, and then he pulled the nightshirt that laid on his bed over himself. It was only then did he remove his trousers from underneath.
The noirette shrugged. "It wasn't as fun, having sex in rooms with people nearby. I thought I'd experiment with how easy it must be to hide outside."
"What, so I'm just a guinea pig to you? Go find someone else to partake in your exhibitonistic… voyueristic… whatever you call it… game!"
"Huh, never took you as the kind of boy to know those terms. Do you have experience?"
Unable to deal with his bullshit for any longer, Gilbert grabbed his book back to place it back on his desk. He then reached for his lamp and switched it off, leaving only Serge's to bring light into their room. He climbed underneath the covers of his bed with his front side facing the wall.
"Leave me alone already. If you're expecting me to meddle in your personal life, then you're sorely mistaken, Battour."
Silence filled the room. For a while that was all that was heard between the two roommates. Given that Gilbert seemed done with speaking for the night, it was the other who did the talking.
"Do you think I did all of this because I chose you?" There was mild anger in his voice, and a detected undertone of annoyance. Oh, so they do share mutual feelings. He scoffed. "Trottel... As my roommate, that is all that you are to me, nothing more and nothing less. I chose this life on my own and simply decided to drag you along for a bit, just a bit, so you'll know and understand."
There was a click as his own lamp was switched off. A creak on the bed across the way, and a thump on the pillow. "Now that you're aware, we shall continue staying out of each other's business, like you want."
Good.
Relieved that that should be the end of the conversation, both boys fell asleep.
One more month passed, marking it three months since Serge's arrival at Lacombrade Academy. Autumn has turned into winter, and the midterm exams had everyone in a panic throughout the school. Upperclassman locked themselves up in their rooms or in the library for studying while the underclassman were mainly concerned with getting a good enough score to make the roster of students with the top grades. By this time no one was surprised to see Serge at the top of the roster with the highest score.
As for Gilbert, he didn't care too much for grades. He was smart enough to make the top twenty students, but that wasn't a big enough achievement to be recognized by anyone else. If anything, he was satisfied with not standing out too much other than for his looks, which were taken into account over the school's prettiest boys. Like the rest of the students, however, he wouldn't be too shocked if his roommate topped him in that list as well.
Midterms cleared soon enough as the snow rolled in. It covered the school grounds in heaps that once the stress of exams passed, many of the liberated students spent their leisurely days playing outside. This was the perfect way to finish off the semester before winter break would be on its way.
"Why don't we go to Arles together, Gilbert?"
"No, I don't feel like it. Thanks for the invitation, though."
Serge's smile this morning was unnervingly saccharine when the question came up before the two of them went down for breakfast. It wasn't like either of them went against their promise to each other. Matter of fact, the noirette's friends have often wondered aloud why they weren't as close despite being roommates; had they known the truth, Gilbert would've laughed. Rather, he'd be content enough to say that their living arrangements have remained untouched by the truth.
"Are you sure, Gilbert?"
"I am."
"Do you not like large crowds, Gilbert?"
"Quite the contrary, actually."
He'd stumped Serge by saying that. "I like crowds, sometimes. I remember when I especially liked them when I was little, when I used to be the center of attention. My first year at this school was filled with crowds of people trying to get to know me. Now I tolerate them, because eventually I faded into the very shadows of them." The shadows took the place of the people who tried to be his friends, only these succeeded. He didn't need anyone else. "You should stop talking to me, Serge. Karl and Pascal will be waiting after breakfast for you to join them, won't they?"
"... You really don't want to go to Arles with me, Gilbert?"
"Why must you continue calling my name at the end of each question?"
There was a sudden spark in those deceiving doe-like eyes. He couldn't help but flinch just the slightest. "I've been told that by using a person's name in a statement, I'll get a more positive reply that way."
"It's annoying."
"But you're much calmer than the last time we argued, aren't you, Gilbert?"
Keeping silent, Gilbert turned around and had waited for Serge to leave with a defeated sigh (as well as a mutter of "störrischer narr" under his breath, to which the former made a mental note to look that up later). He didn't let out a sigh of his own until he heard the door open and close with footsteps fading away from the outside. After that, he hadn't seen him anywhere around the school even before the carriages were just about to leave for town. That stubborn boy must've truly given up for the day. Good.
Jesus, I should file a complaint against him... It's not like it would even be considered, though. My room's the only one that's been vacant for one more until he came. The school can't afford to put him anywhere else.
He spent that day to himself without any other complications. He read his assigned book for literature for a second time, ate a quiet lunch in the empty cafeteria, and worked on his homework for the remainder of the late afternoon until students began to make their way back. By that time, he was waiting for Serge to burst into their room, that stupid smile practically permanently etched onto his face, ready to tell a story of his time in Arles.
Any minute now...
Any second now...
Any... millisecond?
Two hours passed. Most of the students had returned by then for evening supper, yet Serge never entered the dorm. Gilbert huffed every time he took notice; why should he care? He's probably taking the long way back to school, walking and talking with his friends the entire way. Or perhaps he was already back and he chose to go straight to the cafeteria. The mention of food made was making him hungry, so he might as well eat before everyone else left behind only scraps.
He arrived at the cafeteria with wide eyes at the sight of Karl and Pascal sitting at a table by themselves. No Serge in sight. This was becoming strange; Serge only enjoyed being outside until sundown would come, and today that took place over an hour ago.
"'Serge's whereabouts'?" Karl repeated the end of Gilbert's question when the blond asked it. His dark eyes matched the confusion in his own. "He said he wanted to stay for another hour in Arles, but that was a long time ago. I would've expected him to have returned to your shared dorm first."
"Told you that we shouldn't have left him alone," Pascal chided him lightly.
Karl narrowed his eyes at his friend. "He wasn't alone, per se. Max Blough offered to watch over him-"
It was like a cold hand running up Gilbert's back. He fought back the urge to shudder. "Did you just say... Max Blough?"
"Yes, I did. He let Serge spend time with him and his friends when we happened to rest at a cafe at the same time as them, as a thanks for all of those tutoring sessions they've had together. The group made the mistake of not warning him that they were drinking alcohol when he drank some, but he seemed pretty used to it given how well he kept himself together. He was a little reluctant when Pascal and I suggested going back, though, so Blough said he'd make up for the alcohol intake in the first place by showing him around Arles some more... Why do you seem so worried about that?"
Oh, you poor, oblivious soul, you have no idea.
Before he could reply, Pascal spoke again. "Wouldn't blame him, Meiser. What kind of upperclassman requires the aid of an underclassman to pass his classes?"
For someone so intelligent, you really are an idiot.
Seeing as he had his answers now, he left the duo to their food in his reminded search for his own. He ended up having a meal that was lighter than what he planned for when he went into the cafeteria in the first place. The mere idea of what Serge was really doing in Arles was enough to lessen his appetite.
Nighttime came, and twenty minutes before roll call was scheduled to take place, his roommate miraculously reared his annoying head in their bedroom. He didn't even give Serge time to explain himself as he pushed him to get dressed before one of the professors was to come by to check on everyone in their assigned building and rooms. They were punctual in standing out of their door when the time finally came.
"Heard you stayed extra late, Serge," Professor Watts said. He was a blond fairly-aged man who revealed on the transfer student's first day of school that he knew his late father Aslan Battour, and that was how Gilbert learned he was an orphan; he didn't care, though, as his own parents abandoned him, so they were unfortunately in the same boat. "Did you find yourself with a lovely lady?"
A part of Gilbert wanted to make a snide remark of how Serge found the complete opposite of a "lovely lady", but he held his tongue.
"Arles is an endearing town, so I chose to look around for a longer time with a few upperclassmen of mine," Serge explained with a friendly smile. "I suppose I was enjoying my stay for too long and lost track of time."
Unsuspecting, Watts continued down the hall, allowing the two boys of Room 17 to retire. Or, that seemed to have been the noirette's plan until his roommate grabbed at his wrist rather roughly, forcing their faces to meet each other.
"Where the hell were you?" he hissed.
Serge blinked and tilted his head. "What do you mean? I stayed in Arles-"
"Like hell you did."
Soon enough, the air became thick with tension. Gilbert held his ground, yet nearly faltered when he was caught in the poison coming into light in the other's eyes. They were normally so warmly brown, so horribly sweet, that he wasn't expecting this. He watched them form a glare.
"What's it to you where I go?" Serge snapped at him. He suddenly twisting his arm, freeing his wrist, and kept it close to his chest. "Don't touch me, and don't go asking me of things you wouldn't even care about either!"
"And how could you possibly think I wouldn't care?!" Gilbert yelled back, even louder. "You have no idea how worried you made me. I didn't want to care, and by gods know I tried not to, but as long as you're my roommate-"
"Oh, so that's what this is about... You think you actually have a responsibility over me!" He burst into a short fit of bitter laughter. "I-I can't believe you! You're more of a trottel than I thought!"
"Shut up!"
Now with a confident smirk, the noirette went to his bed with a skip in his step. He kept his back facing the other as he changed out of his clothes and into a nightshirt. The one staring at his back wanted real daggers to be glared into them. Whatever, he really wasn't worth his worrying after all. It was all for nothing.
"You know, Gilbert, if you had kept talking, I would've gotten the impression you have some sort of crush on me~"
It was a startling statement, but it was still scoffed at. "Please, it's not like I'm desperate for a relationship, let alone one that meant interacting with you. I can't even stand you."
"But we're roommates, so shouldn't we be getting along?"
"Not necessarily."
"In your perspective, at least. Hmm... How about this, Gilbert: let's spend some time together."
"Are you deaf-"
Serge spun around and held up a hand to silence him. "You didn't let me finish. Let's spend some time together... and we'll do whatever you want."
Anything I want, huh? I wasn't expecting that. "... I'm listening."
"Good. We get to do whatever you want, and we don't even have to talk as long as we're together, just as long as there's still constant contact between us. See, Gilbert? It would be in your favor."
Immediately he wanted to decline. He wasn't sure why he was even listening to this proposition in the first place. Why should he consider spending time with a pest when it made more sense to want to get rid of him? Don't get him wrong, he did want to get rid of him, albeit with the knowledge that such efforts would fail given the dormitory regulations they had to deal with.
... So, why not try it just this once? Maybe Serge would finally see that they were better off without each other. He'd understand why he was regretting his choice to worry about him.
"What do you say, Gilbert?" his roommate in question asked him.
First there was a bit of silence, but then there was a hum of consideration. "Next Saturday. Do one thing that annoys me before then, and I call it off. Understand, Battour?"
Rather than a smile, that smirk remained upon his lips. Gilbert had to admit that he preferred that expression over that stupid facade he wore in public. He bent forward into a bow, left arm behind his back as he did so, right hand reaching out to take the other's left; the blond thought nothing of it, aware that this was meant to be a joke of some sort. Tanned skin stood out against the paleness and vice versa as he pulled the hand close to his lips. "Ich verspreche, Cocteau," he whispered, sealing their deal with a brush of lips to the knuckle.
Over the course of the time Serge was missing, Gilbert had found the free time to borrow a German dictionary from the library and look up some of the things he's been called lately. Trottel is "fool", while störrischer narr means "stubborn fool", and he would be sure to call him out on such name-calling some other time. Just now, Serge was telling him that he promised. He had no idea what exactly he would be getting himself into, and maybe he'll have to retreat to the shadows more times than usual to get over whatever he may experience, but for now he had to deal with the fact that he basically signed himself up for his own impending doom.