Summary: Gil Centric. "Love!? I am NOT in love—especially not with her. I just can't...keep it in my pants. That's all."

Disclaimer: Do not, will not, and won't never ever own Harvest Moon.

Enjoy.

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A well-built male was hunched over a miniature desk, cradling the handset of his office telephone between his shoulder and ear. He shifted in his stiff rolling chair, cursing the world for making him a giant but giving him exceedingly tiny objects to work with. Dropping his drafting pencil, he ran his bulky fingers through jerky, rust spikes; a stressful groan slipping passed his lips.

"What is it now, Luke?" he grounded out irritably, drumming his fingers on the rigid tabletop. Usually, he was never this angered when it came to Luke's whining and the thousands of favors that the dark black-blue haired male would claim as 'essential' or 'life-threatening if not completed'. It was just the way Luke was. Though, when you haven't had a single alcoholic beverage for about two weeks and you're dealing with a bunch of jerk-offs as co-workers—you'd be a little grouchy too.

Albeit, your 'grouchiness' increases by a tenfold when you're… a slight alcoholic.

"Owen! I need your help!"

Owen winced, not quite understanding how an adult man with a voice like Luke's can sound like a spoiled little girl whining about one thing or another. It will forever stay a mystery to him as long as Luke was Luke.

"I figured as much, but let's get a little more specific before I hang up, okay?" he retorted crossly, biting the inside of his cheek when guilt slapped him in the face. He was a good guy, a really nice boy at heart. So of course he wouldn't want to get all snarky with one of his best friends from back in the day.

"Aw," Luke mockingly cooed, "Baby want his liquor?"

"I'm hanging up now—"

"Dude," –Owen rolled his onyx eyes when he heard Luke nervously chuckle—"I'm kidding man, now listen up… please and thank you. I met this uptight guy at Jin's when I went for my Friday check-up and crap, you know?"

Owen cocked a brow, propping his head onto his hand, "Luke, you kind of sound like Kat when she's found a guy she wants to make her boyfriend." There was a gasp.

"God forbid! What would Joe say?"

Owen cracked a smile, sniggering at the inside joke, "He'd probably call you a cheating whore, then try to get revenge by sleeping with Rock or something."

"Pffft, then he'd be banging the originator of STDs."

"Are you calling Rock a monkey?" the bulky male asked teasingly. Luke scoffed.

"Rock was human? Dude parties harder than me and half of the crap he babbles sounds like monkey-speech to me."

Owen snickered, making a grab for his pencil so he could continue with his sketch; knowing Luke, they were going to be on the phone for a while. That, and knowing Luke, he might laugh a bit louder than intended and draw attention. He might as well work while he was forced to listen up.

"Anyway, enough about our chino dude—back to my uptight guy. See, Jin told me he's an extremist on being a prude, and you know me dude. I need to help a fellow bro out whenever I see the chance. Besides, sex is awesome! Though, not as—"

"—Awesome as you, right?" Owen finished off sarcastically, onyx eyes playfully rolling.

"Owen my man, you're learning."

Owen snorted, sort of wishing he hadn't just stroked his friend's ego further, "You were saying, Luke?"

"Yeah, yeah, I was saying: So I decided I'd help a bro and blah, blah, blah. I kidnap the dude—"

"—Luke, you can't keep kidnapping people. This has to be the sixth—"

"I didn't know you were keeping up with my track record, buddy."

"I couldn't even if I tried. Your dad's left me in charge of that since your last scheme."

"Oh! Did I tell you I broke my arm?"

"Let me guess, tried to chop a tree upside-down, right?"

"Aw, you know me so well!"—though it was barely audible, Owen heard it, smiling slightly—"Unlike Joe, who nagged me for not bringing him…"

"Uh-huh, look Luke. I need you to tell me where I come in, in this grand adventure of yours, or I'm hanging up."

"Well…"

That was never good.

Three days.

Smoothing the chestnut, beige, white, and pale teal, abstract patterned bed sheets out on his bed, Gil heaved a sigh. It had been three days straight since that traumatizing experience with Luke and the strangely midnight blue haired male's bold move to shove porno right before Gil's poor eyes.

It had been three days exactly, since Gil refused to leave his beloved abode.

The blond had spent the first two days, enveloped by his monstrous chestnut comforter; shuddering and whimpering whenever the images from that horrid movie haunted him. After crying himself to sleep every night, he would feel exhausted the next morning. He would scoot deeper into the sheets, wanting to shield his weak morning eyes from the ridiculously bright rays of the day.

The third day was around the time he began recuperating. It was a slow process, busy with tidying his apartment. Cleaning was always how he bettered himself. It soothed him deeply to scrub away stains and germs. It was one of the few things he felt, well, that he could control.

Clicking his tongue on the roof of his month, the blond psychologically chastised himself for being such a child about his. Hiding in his house and sulking. He'd gone and missed work all three days too!

"But it was horrific, what we saw!"

The blond flinched at his mind's retort. He couldn't help but wholeheartedly agree with it. As his thoughts wandered slightly, he wondered if Jin could fix mental scars as well.

Gnawing at the bottom of his lip, Gil shook his head. It wasn't possible. Lord, staying inside the apartment… and just thinking—it wasn't a good idea, not considering who he was. Gil over-thought things, frequently; something he knew wasn't very healthy. He really regrets not at least going to work those days…

There was a knock on his window, to which brought a scowl upon Gil's lips. Another reason as to why he made no effort to leave.

There was no way he was going to face that insufferable idiot ever again.

"Dude," the first vowel of the overused nickname was stretched annoyingly, Gil's scowl deepening as he tentatively arranged his throw pillows atop of his bed, "Why are you still hiding from me? I'm just trying to say sorry!"

Gill shot the prescient male a cross look, traveling toward his window, inwardly wishing his curtains weren't in the washer right now. Azure eyes narrowed, watching as Luke rubbed his face into the glass, smearing perspiration all over his perfectly translucent casement. Understandably, it had been particularly hot today—so a little sweat on the blockhead's part wasn't entirely his fault, it was just a heavily humid day. Of course, that gave Luke no reason to wipe retard sweat all over his property.

Tuning out the rest of Luke's mindless banter, the blond hastily made his way to the tiny supplies closet in the hallway. Every cleaning tool known to man was located neatly within that closet. It was even alphabetized; the organization of it all, utterly flawless.

Lined against the walls of the miniature room, he had your vacuum cleaner, mop and bucket, Mopping solution , an oddly shaped dustpan, broom, and polish—sponges, paper towels, cleaning clothes, Scrubbers, disposable gloves, baking soda—trash bags in multiple sizes, trash liners for his reusing pleasure, and several different kinds of "back-up" recycling bins. Gil wasn't ever the type to stick with just an All-Purpose Cleaner. He preferred having his various cleaners, opting that he would only use the All-Purpose cleaner on special occasions.

See, in Gil's cozy little abode: he had several surfaces that need a little extra TCL when it was cleaning day. So he felt if he had a variety, he wouldn't only get the job done, but he would get it done the right way.

"Oven cleaner, stove cleaner, dish soap, dish detergent," azure eyes scanning the products lined together side by side, a mass amount of colors if you looked from afar. "Wood Polish, Upholstery spot remover, Laundry Soap, laundry Stain remover… toilet… bowl cleaner… a-air fresheners… b-b-bleach…" Gil's voice began to crack, his azure eyes boring into the only empty spot among the thousands of house cleansers. He could have cried right about now.

"N-no… glass cleaner—NO, GLASS CLEANER," he howled, launching himself at his little closet, hurriedly searching around for aforementioned product. "WHY. IS. THERE. NO. GLASS. CLEANER!?"

In the span of about two minutes (almost three, but Gil had soon took notice of the mess) bottles were broken, strong scented chemicals were spilled—and poor little Gil sat there, in utter disarray.

He wept for several minutes; time lost to the blond, a headache blossoming in the depths of his cranium, before hoisting the mop off the floor to clean up his mess.

Equilibrium

"Luke… where's my car?" Gil jeered, his shoulders shaking lightly from both anger toward the midnight blue fool and the mini break down a little earlier.

Luke blinked owlishly, scratching the tip of his nose idly, "You mean that light blue Porsche, right?"—Gil raised a brow, wondering how on earth he even knew that—"'cause you left that at City Hall."

For some reason, the people upstairs hated Gil; or at least seemed quite fond of messing around with him lately. He had not only irresponsibly left his automobile in a public area—where it could be stolen—but now he had to…

Take a ride with Luke.

Sure, you could say something like: "Why doesn't he just walk to the store instead of pick the path of impending doom?" Well, my darlings, Gil doesn't live as close as he would like to any shopping center. He also doesn't fancy the chance of getting robbed, kidnapped, or murdered. You should all also take into account that—

Gil doesn't do 'walking'. Enough said.

"This doesn't mean anything, alright?"

"Alright."

"I just need you to drop me off at the store, take me back home so I can clean the window you've rubbed your germs on, and lastly, I need you to drop me off at work."

"Rodger Dodger."

"After that, we will never associate ever again."

"'Kay."

"Most importantly, this does not, repeat not—"

"—Not—"

Gil rolled his eyes.

"—Mean we're friends. Understand?"

"Mhmm."

Azure eyes glared heatedly at the lopsided grin stretched upon Luke's face.

"I don't think you understand." Gil muttered wryly.

"Oh I understand." Luke lazily replied, the grin still in place.

10:21, 10:22

10:24

"Trilliani,"

"Excuse me?"

"My name's Luke Trilliani."

Gil snorted, highly un-amused as he slouched back against his seat, arms folded across his chest. "What did I say?" he said flatly, staring out the window uninterestedly.

Quirking a thick eyebrow, Luke causally pronouncing what he thought Gil had said, "Something about it always raining in England… and banana pudding!" His gold eyes brighten considerably at the mention of (what Gil believed to be) his favorite dessert.

"Incorrect," the blond deadpanned, "I clearly stated earlier that we are not going to become friends."

Luke's brows furrowed in befuddlement for a good second, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, before he asked suspiciously, "What does telling you my name have to do with becoming friends?"

"It has to do with everything! First we're trading surnames, subsequently we're skipping around the malls with foolish miniature dogs in our matching man-purses, and then we'll start slicing our palms in some ridiculous 'blood' brothers' ritual!" Gil clarified in a jagged tone.

It was at that point, Luke wasn't sure if he should have been offended—he already had a best friend, and would NEVER cheat on him—or if he should laugh at the fact the other had said 'man-purses'.

He chose the latter.

Gil bristled, "Why the hell are you laughing?"

Luke was in hysterics; his left hand twisting the steering wheel carelessly as he ignored the cross looks the blond was giving him. He would have doubled over in fit of mirth, if he hadn't been, oh, driving.

"Dude—what?" his laughter escalated, irking the blond further.

Hissing a simple "I hate you," Gil slumped deeper into his seat.

"Look Gil," Luke rushed over to the flaxen blond, holding a small carton of unknown pills. His golden irises glinted mischievously. Gil turned toward him automatically, a first aid jammed between his arm and side.

"What is it now, Luke?"

"It's Viagra!"

The blood was drained from his face, yet only a second later did it return in a tenfold; his cheeks flaring brightly. He was both embarrassed and infuriated, the blond stiffly walking away to the counter.

Gil will begin to wonder why he told Luke his name—along with the many horrible thoughts he would try out on Luke when they got back to the truck.

"Mind telling me why you missed work the past few days?"

There was a definite crack, a poor Number Two pencil snapped in half by a peeved blond. Two very unfortunate and unplanned things occurred in the last twenty minutes. One; his Porsche was not there, but instead "borrowed" (he knew it would get stolen!) by his (pigheaded) father two days ago. Two—

Luke was now his "chauffeur" for the next few weeks. Gil was also expected to go on a lunch date with the buffoon.

Now, he was about to be harassed by that Vixen—

"Hmm, Mister Dietrich do you possess hearing difficulties similar to that of your father?" a (loathsome) soft voice called out to him, a tiny hand resting upon his shoulder. He resisted the urge to cringe. He had to force a smile on his lips when he felt her (vile) presence shift closer. From the corner of his eyes, he could see the Queen of bitches herself.

As a Queen, though said with spitefulness on Gil's part, she was quite the divine woman strolling around City Hall. She was one the lucky females, the type that would never need any cosmetics—she was just naturally beautiful. Unblemished skin, delicate shape; she was basically the perfect woman. Lengthy tendrils the shade of ebony bypassing her dainty shoulders, occasionally a tinge of dark blue (what was with people and their strangely blue colored hair lately?) on the most luminous of days; a pale yellow headband hindering stray strands from falling onto her face. Deep sepia irises accompanied by long lush, eyelashes. Dear lord, he—

He hated her guts. She was a bitch from hell damn it! She was…

She was Maria Avis, The daughter of the current mayor, Theodore Avis. Which brings us to the actual reason Gil detests her. Her bumbling father had beaten his own father several months back. Only because of her cunning wit did they win; which shouldn't have happened considering he was far more superior than that blasted woman. Sure, he admires her skills, but he knows she cheated during the election. 'Tis why he wishes she would trip on her expensive heels and land face first into a puddle of mud. SO then she too can taste… defeat.

"No, Avis." Gil murmured sweetly, biting his tongue to refrain from calling her anything else. "I'm just a little over worked lately. And concerning the days I was absent, I was busy with some private family matters."

"And what about filling out the—"

"Forms, right? Yes, yes Avis. I can assure you I've got all my paperwork filled out." Gil cut in quickly, knowing full well it would upset her more than anything. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have some formalities to attend to, being that I was not in attendance and what not."

The smell of lilacs wafted over to his nose, Maria's perfectly filed nails digging into the cloth of his shirt, as if they were searching from skin. Gil felt the pointed tip of her index and pointer finger before she jerked backwards.

"Very well, Mister Dietrich—we're all dreadfully eager that of your return." He could feel her seemingly harmless smile, her dark eyes watching him closely. As he listened to clicking of her heels grow fainter by the second, a small sigh emitted from his lips when he could hear no more. Gil groaned loudly, burying his face in his palms.

Lunch with Luke was sounding pretty good right about now.

…

Who was he kidding?

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A/N: I'M SO SORRY. I said before Christmas and this comes out a month later. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'M SORRY. I feel so guilty right now. Things have just been incredibly hectic lately, and I've been more tired than usual. It's becoming sort of a problem; especially since I crashed during my Spanish essay. T_T

Enough about my little life—let's focus on today's chapter. I can't remember anything I wanted to precisely address… because I'm WAY too tired right now. XD I wouldn't be surprised if the ending of this chapter has some errors. I apologize if it does. My Asian beta went to bed before me… :c From what I remember, I was going to explain why I picked Maria… as Gil's nemesis—if you will—instead of… well ... anyone else in the game. Both our kids of the mayors… so… that brings out a rivalry of sorts. Or something like that. She also isn't as bad as Gil thinks she is… ORMAYBESHEIS.

Uhhm… next chapter, we see Luke and Gil's lunch out, with Chase and Maya finally appearing. Gil and Elli's "coffee date" and fun at the library! THATIS… if it all goes according to plan… because I've already gone waaay off course and constructed a new plot without even knowing it.

Erm, byyye.

.Blubber Nuggets.