Chapter seven

Somewhere in the back of his mind Gilbert knew he should be thankful for the fact that Antonio had forced him into signing up for that stupid, unawesome gardening club the year before, because now he had a place to go. Ha, but why the hell would he appreciate anything Antonio had done? He was far too angry for that.

"Verdammt!" He shouted loudly as he burst through the door of the roof garden, tossing his fists into the air, as he stalked down the length of the roof in a fury of German curses. His actions disturbed a few pigeons brooding nearby, causing them to flap their wings and hop out of his way with a squawk of protest.

Their ruffled appearance made him stop stomping around, a small smile forcing its way to his face; he really loved birds. "Sorry guys," he said in a softer tone, watching as they settled near his feet in search for food. "Didn't mean to freak you out. I'm just...frustrated."

Gilbert backed against the wall and slid down with a groan, running his hands through his white hair. It was ridiculous really, Antonio had no right to be mad at him! He hadn't done anything wrong. And an angry Spaniard wasn't something he wanted to deal with at this point in time, Antonio was always so moody when he was upset: he sulked, he delivered an icy cold shoulder, Gott alone knew when he'd snap and in all honesty he was a major pain in the ass.

Then there was Mr. High and Mighty, Sir Francis, Lord of the snails. Once again he had appointed himself the great mediator of all Spanish-Prussian conflict and surprise- he had sided with Antonio. Again. So now, Gilbert was suddenly the enemy because he had talked to the guy Toni was attempting- and probably failing- to pursue. How did that even make sense? It wasn't as if Gilbert was flirting with Lovino or anything! If things worked out between their brothers they'd practically be related, as scary as that sounded. Not to mention that Francis, being the hypocritical, biased scum that he could be at times, was clearly talking to Matthew about food, and French, and w-whatever else. Was Gilbert sitting there having a big hissy fit? No, because he was awesome and confidant and didn't have jealousy issues like some people he knew. Antonio, you need to get a grip, you're acting like a pathetic freshman bitch. But of course, Gilbert wasn't going to tell his friend what he was thinking- he'd prefer to skip the trip to the hospital this year if it was alright.

Gilbert stiffened, his eyes widening nervously as the soft creak. The door to the stairwell was being opened. Fuck, he silently cursed. I've gotten caught! How unawesome-

"Gilbert? Are you up here?"

Wait what? The Prussian blinked stupidly, his jaw nearly hitting the ground when the person looking for him appeared at his side. "Matthew?" He stared for a moment, wondering if he was going crazy and rubbing at his face. "What are you doing here?" He asked when the image didn't disappear.

The Canadian smiled slightly and tilted his head to one side in curiosity. "I guess I could ask you the same thing, eh?"

"Well...ja but-" Gilbert cut himself off with a shake of his head. It made sense for him to be hiding out and avoiding class, that was something he had done for years; because Gilbert was rebellious and daring, spontaneous and awesomely free. Matthew wasn't like him, right? That had been one of the things that had drawn him to the quiet Canadian in the first place. Matthew had his head on his shoulders, he wasn't wild or unruly, he didn't go to parties because he didn't want to, because he knew that sitting in a cosy kitchen and talking over a plate of pancakes was actually more wholesome in the end. No, Matthew was the total opposite of him, but he was still incredibly awesome.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" He was asking now, his eyes twinkling as if he was amused at the lack of an intelligent response. After Gilbert nodded he slid down next to him and raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I saw you storm off during lunch," he explained. "And then you never came to Art. I just...I wanted to see if you were alright."

Gilbert blinked, a grin slowly crawling onto his face in spite of his previous mood. "So you ditched class for me?"

"W-well... I guess you could put it that way..." Matthew flushed a bright red and drew his heels closer to his body. "Francis said you might be up here... He said you probably wouldn't want to talk to him... Is everything okay with you guys?"

Gilbert shrugged as he glanced down at the birds pecking at the ants near his shoelaces. It seemed so easy to complain to anyone about the small things, those little issues that could be laughed off after a couple hours. In reality it was harder to open up when the subject sincerely bothered him...it just wasn't awesome to be so vulnerable. He hated that feeling, which was why he loved to hide away from people until he had figured things out on his own. But then again, Matthew was different, and Gilbert was positive he wouldn't judge. Maybe it really would do him some good to talk for once; it wasn't like he was coming up with ideas of his own.

The Prussian scratched the back of his head and hummed softly. "I don't know," he started off, already cringing at the uncharacteristic uncertainty in his voice. "They're...just being stupid I guess. Antonio is all pissy because I'm talking to Lovino and Francis is being a douche and is siding with him. And it really fucking sucks." Matthew scooted himself closer in order to hear the quiet words leaving the normally confidant lips, nodding for him to continue. "It's messed up! And it's idiotic too! I'm not trying to go after Lovino!" Gilbert growled out, frustration causing his voice to grow louder. "I would never do something so unawesome as to steal someone away from my friend. I wouldn't do that to anyone, not even that prissy brat Roderich who took my friend Elizabeta. I didn't, because I knew how much she liked him. Francis and Antonio know this, and that's why it pisses me off so much! They even know that I'm into someone else and it's not stopping them! I just- ugh!" He tossed his hands into the air and leaned against the wall, running his hand through his hair.

"Sorry," he murmured in a soft voice. "I didn't mean to unload on you like that."

Matthew shook his head reassuringly. "It's fine Gilbert; I'm glad you told me." He made a small face, glancing off to the side in thought. "I think I might know how to help you, if you even want my help that is."

"Ja, of course," Gilbert agreed quickly, nodding his head. He loved hearing the other open up and talk to him, it made him feel important, being trusted to listen to Matthew's scarcely heard opinions. Besides, he was sure he had good advice; he somehow managed to hang out with him, talk with Francis, and be close friends with Lovino and Arthur without causing the slightest bit of drama. Because really, who in the right mind could be mad at Matthew?

Smiling a bit, he moved even closer to his side, letting their hips lightly brush together as he urged the Canadian to continue. "Well," Matthew began, humming to himself. "I wouldn't stop talking to Lovino. I'd like to think that I know him pretty well, and I'd say not talking to him might be even more dangerous than actually conversing with him. Lovino hates being ignored."

Gilbert nodded. "Right, it'd be pointless anyway. Feli wants the four of us to spend time together, so I'd see him on a regular basis no matter what. I guess we kinda have a weird friendship: I more or less distract him from attacking West every chance he gets."

"So you know what the boundaries are, and so does Lovino, but you need to make sure Antonio can clearly see them too. I know you wouldn't try anything, but I have to admit from his perspective things are very confusing and frustrating. You have to let him know you're on his side."

"And how do I do that?" Gilbert asked with a raise of a silver eyebrow.

Matthew smiled. "By being supportive, make sure you don't spend excessive time with Lovino and definitely don't talk about him to Antonio all the time- he'll think you're taunting him. And be subtle, maybe give Lovino a causal push in Antonio's direction every once in awhile. Once he sees that you're actually helping him he'll stop feeling so threatened."

"Wow, that really helps!" Gilbert grinned. "You're good at this, Mattie. Which is awesome for me; I'm glad you're actually helping me with our drama. Those friends of yours seem to want nothing to do with us."

Matthew laughed slightly. "Well, I still don't think you three are as bad as Lovino and Arthur make you out to be. And I like helping out... But I do have one last bit of advice."

"I'm all ears."

"Y-you said that you are interested in someone," he stuttered, glancing down at his lap as his face grew red. "I think you should make that clear as well, make sure it's obvious in Antonio's mind and all...you know?"

Gilbert nodded, raising an eyebrow at Matthew's shy antics. It was weird, he hardly ever acted so nervous around him anymore as he had seemed to have warmed up to him. In fact, Gilbert was positive a little bit of his awesome confidence had rubbed off on the shy Canadian. "Will do," he agreed slowly. "Thanks, for everything."

Matthew bobbed his head in acknowledgment and scrambled to his feet. "I should get back to class...this has been a long bathroom break..."

'Take advantage of your time…'

"Wait!" Gilbert exclaimed, reaching out and catching the other's sleeve before he could disappear. "You can't just leave without letting me follow your advice!"

Matthew turned back around, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean, Gil?"

"What do I mean?" The Prussian let out a quick laugh and rubbed the back of his head. Be cool Gilbert. You're awesome. Why the hell are you nervous? "I mean I want you to go out with me, obviously!"

Matthew merely stared with wide amethyst eyes threatening to pop out from behind his glasses, his mouth dangling in a cute 'o' shape. Gilbert grinned awkwardly. "Heh, remember what you said? To spend time with the one I'm interested in?"

"Gilbert," Matthew finally whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. "Antonio won't be convinced if you go on dates with someone who's invisible."

"Oh come on Mattie! Stop selling yourself short! Look around the school; do you see anyone awesome enough to date me?" Matthew opened his mouth. "No," Gilbert interrupted, regaining his normal ego. "The answer is no. I know how awesome you are; all you have to do is believe it. Besides, I still owe you for dragging you into the whole thing with Ludwig and Feliciano. So...what do you say? Bitte?"

Matthew blinked, his lips slowly curling into a soft smile as his eyes gleamed happily. "Okay."

"Really?!"

He chuckled and glanced down at the ground in embarrassment. "Sure. After all, you're right. You really do owe me after that fiasco with your brother. I had to hide in a closet...a-and it's helping you straighten things up with your friends...so..."

Gilbert was absolutely beaming, crushing the smaller boy in a tight hug as he chanted his thanks into his blonde hair. "It will be so awesome, you won't regret it!" He declared when he finally released him.

"I'm sure I won't," Matthew murmured, hiding his red face behind his sleeve. "I'll see you later..?"

"Awesome," the albino agreed with a grin. "Can I have your number? That way I can get a hold of you." Matthew nodded shyly, quickly reciting his phone number while Gilbert excitedly pulled his phone out of his pocket and punched in the digits, bouncing on the balls of his feet the entire time. "Use that time to your advantage," Francis had told him. "If you do, your job will end up easier than ours. I'm sure of it."

Well Franny, Gilbert thought triumphantly as the Canadian said goodbye and hurried down the stairs. You had no fucking idea.

Antonio was confused. Okay, so maybe that happened a lot, but the Spaniard was sure that this time, his confusion was for a legitimate reason. After all, it didn't make any sense at all, not even when he had carefully explained the situation to Francis. "Are you sure you didn't do something?" The blonde had asked with a concerned frown on his face. "You didn't say anything to make him upset?"

The answer had been no, Antonio couldn't remember doing or saying anything that would have caused something like this; all he knew was that Lovino had been acting strange the entire time they had been studying the other day. Truthfully, Antonio himself had been feeling weird that day too- it was so hard to get anywhere with that Italian and it could be very discouraging at times... But Lovi had been antsy, he kept glancing at his phone(to text Gilbert was what Antonio had figured out) and at one point he finally yelled something and...left.

It had been two days since the incident in the cafe and Lovino was still being weird. And by weird, it meant he was totally ignoring Antonio. Usually the Italian would give him a sour retort and swear at him, at the very least he would silently glare at him from his seat in the corner, but lately he had been acting as if Antonio didn't even exist. Any time the Spaniard attempted the slightest bit of conversation he was shot down by unresponsiveness, and it was starting to wear down on his cheery spirit.

Maybe this is Gilbert's doing, he wondered yet again, his usual smile slipping from his face at the thought. He really didn't want to accuse his friend, but what other explanation did he have? Lovino had started acting like this the day he and Gilbert were texting back and forth, and no one bothered to tell him what that was about either.

Tired of being left in the dark, he tried asking Lovino's younger brother, but Feliciano had been just as confused as he was. "He's not speaking to you?" He had repeated with a small frown. "Non capisco... Do you know why?" Antonio had merely shaken his head miserably. "I was hoping you could tell me..."

That had been when he concluded that Gilbert had something to do with it; he was the only one who talked to Lovino aside from Arthur and...what was the other one's name? The Brit hadn't burst into the room gloating about getting Lovino mad at him, so Antonio assumed his annoying roommate was innocent. Gilbert was his only lead.

Naturally the Prussian had been set off by the whole thing and stormed off in a flurry of curses and grumblings, not giving out the slightest hint as to what the real problem might be. "Even if he does know more than he is letting on," Francis had reasoned. "The question still remains: why won't cute little Lovino talk to you?" Aye, if only he knew the answer to that...

"Toni!"

The loud voice suddenly pulled Antonio out of his thoughts with a jolt, his reflexes moving his body out of the way of the oncoming ball before it could hit him. "Lo siento!" He gasped as he jogged toward the soccer ball as Alfred insisted on calling it. He dribbled it for a moment as he scanned the field, looking for someone to pass it to.

"Antonio!" Across the field, the coach motioned for the ball, easily catching it when Antonio kicked it to him.

Coach Russell was an average height, silver-haired man with more energy than most people his age, and that was one reason why everyone loved him. His job was his passion, he hated coaching from the sidelines so he usually would run the drills and play the practice games with the team, he took into consideration the fact that World Academy had no girl's team and allowed the few interested to join his, making it a coed team. "As long as the competition is alright with losing to girls," he had confidently stated with a laugh. The entire team appreciated his dedication, his insistence on finding tutors for those struggling with their grades, and most of all for his upbeat personality.

But today he looked stressed, his lips pulled into a tight line as he shook his head. "We're running through that drill again," he announced. "The whole point is for the three offensive players to pass the ball to each other in order to avoid the defender, in this case Abel. Natalia, Gilbert, and Mathias are passing. Go!"

"He looks exhausted," Francis noted as he approached, lightly resting a hand on Antonio's shoulder. "And you, mon ami, are simply out of it. Gilbert hasn't tried to talk to you has he?"

Antonio shook his head slightly, his lips curling into a soft frown at the thought. "Nope. He's probably still mad about earlier."

"I don't know, I sent sweet Mathieu after him and it seems as though he has calmed him down. He even came up to me before practice, saying he wanted to talk to you when he had the chance."

"Well I don't want to talk to him."

"Ah Antonio," Francis muttered with a disapproving shake of his head. "Stop being so stubborn. He may have some important information on little Lovino."

The Spaniard shot his friend a look, shrugging a shoulder lazily. "Or he's the reason why Lovi stopped talking to me."

"Mon Dieu! I swear if you don't-"

"Hey Francis, Toni, guess what!" The two were interrupted by Alfred, who bounded toward them with a large smile on his face.

Antonio immediately joined him, playfully tapping at his chin. "No sé," he said with a laugh. "What?"

"I think I recruited a new teammate! I mean, he hasn't exactly said yes yet, but I'm sure Arthur is willing to play!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Antonio saw Francis stiffen, coughing ever so softly like he did whenever he was faking interest. "Oh? You're acquainted with Arthur Kirkland?"

"We're more like friends now," Alfred corrected. "Sure he was a bit cranky when we first met, but I think we really clicked today!"

Francis hummed softly. "Really? That's very-"

Antonio wasn't sure what he had wanted to say, because the conversation stopped when Coach Russell approached. "I don't suppose you three are talking about the drill, are you?" Alfred muttered an apology under his breath, while Antonio grinned in his defense. The coach sighed. "Francis, you're defending with the next group. Alfred can wait a few minutes until I'm done talking with Antonio. Understand?"

"Sure Coach."

"Oui." The American raced off to talk with someone else, leaving Francis to walk away at a calmer pace, sending a look to Antonio over his shoulder.

The Spaniard shrugged slightly and turned to Coach Russell with a cheery smile on his face. "Did you need something, Coach?"

"I'm sure you have an idea."

"Uh..." Antonio grinned sheepishly. "I don't think I do..."

The older man simply gave him a stern look, clearly unamused by his antics. "Don't try that with me Carriedo, I know you better than that. That last pass to you was perfect, incredible, and you completely missed it. Mentally you were in a completely different place." He raised an eyebrow. "It's not like you, you're usually working harder than anyone on the field, but today...I can tell your head's not in the practice."

Oh. The Spaniard rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. He really hadn't meant to be so obvious about it! Normally he wouldn't let anything get in the way of the sport he loved so much, especially not some problem he was having in his romantic life. So what if one or two turned him down? As Francis loved to point out, there were plenty of fish in the sea, and it wasn't hard to recast his line and catch another one. But Lovino...

Lovino had a way of weaseling himself into the Spaniard's mind and stubbornly refused to leave, which had already caused so many problems. Half of Antonio believed it would be easier to give up on the feisty little Italian, for there were other people in the school who wouldn't make things difficult, who wouldn't curse in every sentence, and who actually enjoyed his presence. Even so, the more he thought about turning his back on Lovi, the less he liked it. Why? Was it the challenge? The boy's looks? The overwhelming desire to see him smile because of something he had said or done? Dios mio, he was zoning out again.

"I'm okay I promise!" Antonio assured, trying his best to sound convincing. "I just have a lot on my mind today."

"It's not your grades that are bugging you, right? Because I swear if I lose one of my best players because he's failing this year-"

"Don't worry Coach, my grades are good this year." He offered another sheepish grin. "It's nothing serious, I'll focus on the practice this time!"

The coach scoffed slightly. "Just don't try thinking too hard kid, you might hurt yourself. Now go out there and show us what you're really made out of; you, Alfred, and Elizabeta are running the drill after this next group."

Antonio nodded, already hurrying across the field. He couldn't afford to mess up this time; he would have to try to stop thinking about all the drama until the practice was over. "Hey...Toni?" Speaking of drama...

Antonio stopped with a small sigh, turning to Gilbert with a raised eyebrow. "¿Qué quieres?"

Gilbert looked a lot less uncomfortable than he felt, glancing at the Spaniard as if nothing had gone wrong between them. "Look, about this stupid crap about Lovino. I-"

"I really don't want to talk about this right now," Antonio murmured with a small, forced smile plastered to his face. "I have to focus on practice, you know."

"Okay I get that you're cranky as fuck, but what I have to say is important- it always is." Gilbert huffed slightly, as if Antonio had a duty to hear him out just because he had said so. That was just like the loud Prussian, always demanding to be listened to as if it was a privilege on behalf of his audience. Usually, Antonio wouldn't mind it and would laugh as he listened to outrageous stories about "the Awesome Me," but today he really wasn't in the mood to deal with this. Looking at his friend now only reminded him that he and his arrogant demeanor had somehow drawn Lovino to his side while the latter simply ignored him. And the way Gilbert's lips curved into a small smirk of confidence made him look as though he was about to brag about it instead of work things out like Francis had suggested.

Antonio's cheerful facade was cracking; if he had to look at Gilbert for a second longer he was going to punch him. Instead, he forced his eyes to the ground, tracing an angry line with the sole of his cleat as he willed himself to keep his breathing under control. "I can't," he stated in the calmest voice he could muster, lifting his chin slightly as he smiled. Good thing he knew how to hide emotions behind a clueless grin, otherwise the two of them would be fighting- that was obvious. "We're in the middle of practice," he added.

Gilbert huffed and crossed his arms in annoyance. "Fine- don't listen to me. But don't get pissy when things don't go your way, because I actually know what I'm doing!" Angry red eyes stared him down for half a second before the Prussian turned on his heel and marched away to ask the coach something about getting more sunscreen.

Antonio released a deep sigh and shook his head, willing a more sincere smile back onto his face as he joined Alfred and Elizabeta. He could do this; he could run this easy drill perfectly, just like he had done every other practice. He would push everything that was bothering him to the back of his mind, where he wouldn't have to worry about Gilbert, or Lovi, or anything else besides fútbol.

"Hey Toni!" Alfred suddenly hissed. "Who's that guy Gilbert's talking to? It looks like one of the Italian brothers, but I can't tell which one from here!"

And just like that, his attention was once again diverted. Antonio quickly glanced up in the direction his American friend was pointing, green eyes growing wide as he recognized Lovino standing beside Gilbert, who was chatting rather loudly as he applied his third layer of sunscreen. His heart skipped a beat as he barely managed to keep from squealing at the unexpected sight of the Italian, who was pouting cutely at whatever Gilbert was babbling about, arms crossed tightly across his small chest. Gilbert...of course.

Antonio's giddiness quickly turned into a jealous churning in the pit of his stomach, causing a frown to settle onto his normally smiling lips. This was getting ridiculous! Gilbert was clearly doing this on purpose now, to get back at Antonio for...for something stupid that he probably hadn't meant to do! Now we was flamboyantly parading his companionship with Lovino around, and it was taking every ounce of self control left to keep Antonio from storming over there and grabbing the albino by the throat. Gilbert said something that must have been amusing or retarded, for it had Lovino shaking his head with a small burst of smug laughter. Antonio's fists curled. He was going to do something rash, he could feel it welling up in his chest, tingling through his veins, and-

Before he could even take a step in his desired direction the ball came out of nowhere, smashing right into his face and knocking him flat on his back. "Szar! Antonio are you alright?"

Aye, that was Elizabeta's voice wasn't it? But where was she? Antonio could only blink slowly, making feeble attempts to refocus his sight as he forced his hand to carefully swipe alongside the bottom of his aching nose. Was there blood on his fingertips? He narrowed his eyes with a grimace, willing the black spots to disappear from his vision. He couldn't tell.

"Toni! I am so sorry!" Elizabeta's voice grew closer, her silhouette appearing in front of him to block out the sun. "You're not bleeding! You'll be fine, right?"

Antonio exhaled, chuckling softly as he rubbed his face. "Dios Eliza," he breathed. "I forget you have one hell of a kick."

She smiled sheepishly and helped him to his feet, gingerly picking grass from his hair and shoulders. "I know, I forget too sometimes."

"Antoine! Are you okay?" Francis asked frantically, jogging up with the rest of the worried team. The Spaniard put his brightest grin on his face, ignoring the aching pain it caused; he hated having people worry about him. "I'm fine. I just-"

"Need to ice it right away," Coach Russell interrupted. "It'll keep the swelling to a minimum. Are you sure it's not bad?"

"Positive."

Beside him, Elizabeta hummed thoughtfully. "I'll get the first aid kit for him Coach. The rest of you can finish practice." Coach Russell nodded, barking a few instructions to the team- and to Gilbert to get back on the field- while the calm Hungarian slowly inspected Antonio's face with an air of suspicion. She had always been a friend of the BTT through association with Gilbert, and if anyone other than his two closest friends could tell when he was faking something, it was her. "Are you sure nothing's broken?" She murmured.

Antonio shrugged, wincing as her fingers grazed his nose. "I don't think so. Something would have cracked, sí?"

"Probably." Elizabeta withdrew her hand suddenly, a small smirk settling into her face. "Stay here, I'll grab you some ice."

Antonio wasn't sure why, but he found himself swallowing thickly as he watched her jog towards the first aid kit. There had been a certain gleam in her green eyes that made him feel uncomfortable- it was like she knew something. He watched, somewhat nervously, as she returned with the smirk still set on her face, shaking the ice pack before handing it to him. He smiled slightly and mumbled his gratitude as he applied the pack to his face, shrinking back at the coldness.

Elizabeta looked at him for a few seconds with hands on her hips before she finally spoke. "So...you have a thing for Italians, huh?"

If Antonio wasn't already feeling dizzy, he certainly was now. His eyes widened in a panic, desperately shaking his head. "No!" He exclaimed quickly. Too quickly.

Her mischievous smirk was already growing as she raised an eyebrow at him. "Oh please, I noticed the look on your face when you saw him talking with Gilbert. You're completely smitten- not that I'm surprised; he is a cutie, huh?"

In spite of the ice on his face, Antonio could feel heat growing on his cheeks and the back of his neck, but he still couldn't keep himself from glancing back at Lovino- even though he was pretty sure that talking to the crazy Hungarian about him wasn't the smartest move. He had heard countless horror stories about her weird obsessions and her tendency to meddle with everyone else's business. Yet at the same time… Eliza was smart, and she knew what she was doing. If he could get her help maybe...just maybe he could get somewhere. "He really is," he said truthfully. "But he's different...nothing I do impresses him."

Elizabeta hummed in acknowledgment. "Well I can tell you what won't help you: sitting around moping whenever someone else talks to him. Go! Stop wasting your time!" With a deliberate shove she turned and stalked back on the field, leaving Antonio to awkwardly shuffle toward the Italian. Gracias a Dios Gilbert was no longer loitering around, being far too friendly and standing way too close; now he could finally focus.

Lovino was sitting on the bleachers with earbuds in his ears, scowling at something he was creating on the paper in front of him. His hair fell carelessly into his eyes, and his pouting lips twitched slightly in disapproval; why wasn't he ever happy? Antonio was determined to fix it, and he had always been known to be stubborn.

"Lovi! Lovi, hi!" He greeted happily as he slid in next to him, reaching over to remove the nearest earbud. Not the best move.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He suddenly snapped, throwing his hands into the air in irritation. His flashing hazel eyes bore into his own, daring him to try one more thing. "Lo giuro su Dio, you're the most annoying bastard, always touching me and getting in my space and ugh! What the hell happened to your face?"

"My face?" In his nervous excitement to talk to the Italian, Antonio had nearly forgotten his injury. Now he gingerly brought a warm hand to his face, barely even flinching due to the numbness. It was so much better than pain. "You didn't see it happen?" He asked the other in surprise.

Lovino scoffed at him and rolled his eyes in disdain. "No shit Sherlock. Why the fuck would I be asking if I knew, huh?"

"Good point," Antonio laughed slightly as he shifted in his seat. "Ah, I wasn't really paying attention during the drill and the ball hit me right in the face."

A small smirk formed on the lips of his listener. "Really?"

"Yep! It knocked me flat on my back too! It was so embarrassing, falling like that in front of everyone. I bet Coach is regretting making me captain now."

Lovino was quietly chuckling now, and it was so adorable it made the Spaniard want to keep finding ways to make him laugh. Even if he was laughing at him. "So Lovi?"

"What bastard?"

"What are you doing over here anyway?" Antonio asked curiously. "I mean, not that I don't want you around! I'm just wondering..."

Lovino glanced at his lap with a soft red tint on his cheeks. "Don't fucking think about getting the wrong idea, dammit," he grumbled. "But I need you for this shitty Spanish grade."

Francis rubbed his temples in attempt to ease away the growing headache as he fought an urge to release a sigh. He knew Antonio wouldn't even notice if he did let one escape, or even if he completely stopped listening to the other chatter through the phone line, but he couldn't bring himself to that level of disinterest. He really hated himself sometimes.

Instead, the Frenchman slouched lower in the uncomfortable bench and adjusted the thick sunglasses to a more comfortable position on the bridge of his nose. "Well I'm glad you got him to talk at least," he told his friend, successfully keeping the mixture of boredom and anxiety from showing through his voice. "Slow but efficient, mon ami. That will probably work best with the little Italian."

Ah, I have the brains of a psychologist yet the talent of an actor. The thought caused a small smile to shift onto his face, until he remembered that he was sitting on a random bench right outside the school campus wearing an ugly mustard yellow jacket and a hideous wool hat that hid all his beautiful hair under its faded salmon material. Then he remembered why he was sitting there suffering in such abominable clothing to begin with, because his brilliant "psychologist mind" hadn't thought of a way to avoid the situation he was now entangled in. He was there because he couldn't do anything else; what was the point in possessing talent and brains when he was as desperate as a starving author?

He paused his silent soliloquy and tuned back to his friend on the other end of the phone. Antonio must have had his cell tucked in between his ear and his shoulder, for the slightly muffled sounds of a familiar guitar could be heard plucking in the background as he spoke. "Of course you're right Francis," he chirped. "You always are right. But I've been thinking about something..."

Francis tilted his chin up, allowing a teasing smile to settle on his lips. "Antoine that's dangerous."

"Haha that can be true, huh? You always say I'm either not thinking enough or thinking too hard..." There was a pause, and for a moment even the music faltered, hesitantly following its creator. "Maybe I am, you know? Thinking too hard?"

"I won't know until you explain. What's worrying you?" He sat up and stretched, blue eyes scanning his surrounding as if to see if someone was approaching.

"Well...are we doing something wrong here?" Antonio asked gently, whispering the words as if he was afraid of them. "I know everyone gets rejected sometimes, I know we tend to get a little pushy sometimes, but Dios mio, are we trying too hard?"

Francis blinked in astonishment, his boredom instantly forgotten. After all, Antonio wasn't usually the one to notice something so subtle- that was the Frenchman's job. If he is catching on we may be in worse trouble than I thought, he wondered, pressing his lips into a straight worried line. If he can see it too then it's not subtle at all, it must be painfully obvious.

Antonio must have thought he was silently laughing at him, for he quickly continued with a slight air of embarrassment in his voice. "I mean, I could be completely wrong. But we feel as though we have to try this hard, because Lovino, Arthur, and..."

"Matthew."

"Right, Matthew. They're not making anything as easy as it normally is. We are doing everything we can to get closer, but I feel as though we're...compromising. Is this dangerous Francis, what we're doing?"

There it was, quite possibly the most important question Antonio had ever asked him; the question Francis found himself spending a lot of time on. It plagued his mind when he half-heartedly flirted with the girls without his usual zeal, or when he purposely made slight mistakes in chemistry that would ruin the experiment in order to make his British partner wind up like a jack in the box ready to burst out of its confines. The worries loomed in the back of his head when he noticed how uptight and petty his two closest friends were acting about something that shouldn't be a big deal, when he thought about why he was doing what he was about to do right now. It was beyond dangerous; the Bad Touch Trio was playing with fire- and they wouldn't get burns on their hands, but on their hearts. These wounds wouldn't be healed with a bit of ice and aloe vera; they would be too deep for that, too painful, they would fester, rot them from the inside out, burn their very hearts out and-

Francis shook the terrible thoughts about of his now aching head. Being melancholy and imaginative with a dash of dramatic flair wasn't exactly a good combination, his maman had warned him about that- said he would hurt himself with his own made-up terrors. If this was only an irrational fear he had come up with then there was no point in concerning Antonio with it and make him worry over nothing. It was fine; they'd make it out triumphant and without a care in the world just like they always did.

"There's a bit of a risk in everything I imagine," he said carefully, making sure to keep the strain of anxiety out of his voice. "But I don't think this particular situation is any more dangerous than the others."

"You think so?" Antonio breathed, and it seemed as though his voice grew softer every time he spoke.

Francis found himself raising his own slightly, trying desperately to boost the confidence of his friend. "Of course."

"Right….of course…" the Spaniard echoed to himself. "Haha, this was silly of me, wasn't it? Lo siento, I should let you handle the worrying Francis; I always get worked up about nothing. I'll see you later?"

Francis nodded numbly and murmured a farewell as he hung up the phone. Try as he might he couldn't shake this feeling of dread, and he couldn't help but feel as though he had told his friend a lie that could result in harm. However….even if there was something, it was better if he dealt with it himself instead of involving his friends. What could they do anyway? Antonio would only worry himself to death, refusing food or sleep and let his grades slip, while Gilbert would pointedly ignore all advice until it was too late. Francis couldn't deal with either of those responses, especially if he didn't know if anything was actually wrong.

"C'est ridicule," he decided, firmly stating the words to himself. Maybe he would believe them if they were actually said out loud enough times.

"I have to agree, it is ridiculous," a quiet voice piped up from his left.

The Frenchman jumped, ripping his glasses from his face in order to send the Canadian beside him an incredulous look. "How long have you been standing there?" he gasped.

Matthew grinned a little and shrugged. "Only a minute maybe. It took me a while to recognize you with that look. You even managed to make your face look as white as a sheet. How did you do that?"

"Ah, I take advantage of the fact that the drama club owns many unfashionable pieces of fabric," Francis explained, standing up to stretch his arms over his head. "What about you? Don't you think you'll be spotted?"

"Me? Spotted?" Matthew shook his head, letting his honey blond hair shake slightly as well. "You didn't notice me, and you were looking. Alfred isn't really observant anyway."

"Touché." he slipped the sunglasses back onto his face, allowing the world to slip into an artificial green tint. "Do you know when we can expect them?"

The younger teen glanced behind him at the gate of the academy, shrugging a shoulder. "Any minute now. They were getting ready to go when I left, so they should be right behind-" Matthew abruptly turned back towards Francis with wide violet eyes. "Nevermind, they're coming now."

The words caused his heart to leap into his throat, but Francis managed to shakily push it back where it belonged, watching the pair of students as they strolled along the sidewalk outside the campus. Alfred looked jubilant, smiling excitedly as he chatted about anything and everything, casually bumping his shoulder against his shorter companion. And Arthur...well, Arthur didn't shoot back an angry swear or demand that the American stopped being to stupid. Arthur would only roll his eyes and make a half-hearted grumble here and there, a fond smile on those pretty lips of his and- was that a blush?!

Eyes threatening to bug out from behind the glasses, Francis reached out to grab Matthew's arm, squeezing until the other began to squirm uncomfortably. "How long has this been going on?" He hissed, dropping the arm as if it burned.

Matthew glanced up at him in a bit of a panic. "Um...I don't know...a couple days? A week maybe?"

"Merde!"

What was wrong with him? Why was he so upset by the idea of Arthur fancying someone who wasn't him? Why did he feel the urge to march over and tear Alfred away in order to take his place? He suddenly knew exactly how Antonio felt when Gilbert insisted on hanging out with Lovino. But he shouldn't be jealous! Alfred was a good guy, albeit a bit oblivious at times. If he made the Brit happy then...then that was fine. Then he should let them. He should stay out of the way. He shouldn't meddle.

….

Oh, but he wanted to meddle more than he had ever wanted to before; his fingers itched to destroy the offending relationship. The thoughts couldn't possibly be healthy.

A calm hand rested on his upper arm, rubbing reassuring circles into the thick fabric of his jacket until he managed to bring his breathing back to normal. "Don't worry Francis," Matthew was whispering. "We'll get him back. I might not be able to do much but...I'll help. I promise."

Francis blinked in surprise and turned back to the Canadian. "You want to help me?" he asked. "Why? Alfred's your brother, I would think you would want him to be with a friend of yours."

Matthew glanced at the retreating couple and sighed. "Al is too friendly sometimes. He comes across as flirting even if he isn't. I don't want Arthur to get caught up in anything if it won't happen." He smiled at Francis mischievously. "Besides, I'm trying to return your favor. That's friends do right?" The Frenchman could only nod, mouth agape, his eyes filled with admiration for the soft-spoken Canadian. "Now," he was saying. "I might have an idea if you're willing to go through with it…"

I. Am. So. Sorry.

Hello everyone! I'm...not dead? I apologize for the 4 month hiatus, it's been a combination of school, stress, a busy schedule, slight bouts of depression, and plenty of wtf am I doing with my life moments. In the end, I have conquered for the time being and have returned to hopefully bless you with a long awaited chapter.

What is this? PruCan is advancing? More tension? More drama? More omg just kiss already moments? Ah the meddling! I had fun with Matthew in this chapter- he's so adorable!

Hopefully I will be back before too long! Catch you later? Review please!

altera vita mea