Oneshot. Prussia centric. AU.

A/N: Based on my own experiences as a lonely third wheel.

Gilbert wandered aimlessly through the shifting, chattering mob, wanting all at once to be part of their meaningless conversations and to simply burst from the semi-darkened gym, escaping from the constant reminders of his pathetic single lifestyle. Homecoming might as well have been renamed the "Fuck You, Gilbert Beilschmidt, Some of Us Actually Have Significant Others (Hell, Some of Us Have More Than One)" dance, or so he thought as he fought through the mass of writing bodies and laughing friends.

He, too, had arrived flanked by friends. Though Francis and Antonio had never intended to chase him away, they had both been occupied with their own respective dates held close as they had whispered sweetly in the bass rhythmed chaos. Feeling awkward and curiously hollow, Gilbert had slipped away, unseen, to put some distance between the couples and himself: he didn't want to intrude, and he certainly had no desire to sit unnoticed as his friends closed themselves off to reality in favor of being sucked into the mad realm of high school romance.

For as long as he remembered, Gilbert had promised himself that he wouldn't date – that he would be strong enough to traverse life on his own. Shouldering open the door to the outside, his pale face was struck with cool night air that smelt of the oncoming winter rather than of stale perspiration. It was early-mid October, but the evening was cold enough to fog his breath as it passed thin lips. He shivered and tugged his jacket on across his shoulders. The numbness within him was creeping to the surface, freezing his fingertips and chest more effectively than the weather. With a heavy heart, Gilbert lifted his stinging eyes to the heavens to find the silent companionship of the faintly flickering stars overhead. They were so far away, but at in that moment, he felt nearer to them than to the rowdy teenagers in the building only paces behind him.

"It's almost enough to make you want to date," he quipped aloud, snickering mirthlessly. The emptiness in his chest was expanding, engulfing him entirely as he tumbled headfirst in an abyss called, "solitude".

"Gilbert?" His name was called out as the door behind him swung open. His friends emerged grinning and flushed from the adrenaline of the high school dance, bounding forward to clap him on the back and to capture him in a rough embrace.

"We were wondering where you'd gone," a smirking Francis announced, just a tad too close for comfort.

Swatting away his adventurous hands, Gilbert replied, "I was just getting some air – it's hotter'n hell in there and, God, do these people know about deodorant?"

His friends chuckled compliantly, but a stab of bitterness marred what ought to have been a moment of levity. He could make people laugh with his frank (often vulgar) declarations and overly dramatized antics, but he never told anyone how two dimensional he had come to feel, putting on a façade so convincing that he often found himself entangled within it.

"We probably oughtta get back," Antonio said, glancing somewhat anxiously towards the entrance. "We can't keep our dates waiting…"

"Are you coming back in with us?" Turning to Gilbert, his blond friend shot him an infuriatingly knowing look. "It's too cold to be out here for long, hm?"

He shrugged and took the smallest fraction of a step backwards, detaching himself from what had once been a trio. "Nah, I'm gonna chill out here for little – I'll be in soon."

"Okay." Apprehension had stolen into Antonio's wide eyes. "If you're sure."

"I'm fine." The albino grinned until his cheeks ached with the strain. "The hell d'you think I am? I don't need you losers to stand here and hold my hands."

Laughing, they vanished through the glinting, Plexiglas doors leaving him alone with only the company of the distant galaxies and celestial bodies trapped in a whirling cosmic waltz of their own.

"Looks like it's just me again." Gilbert sighed, hands tucked into his pants pockets as he watched the moon peek from just beyond the tree-lined horizon. It seemed to nod its softly glowing head in acknowledgement as he tracked its slow journey across the sky. Nodding back, he confessed softly, as though too afraid to admit to anyone, "I really hate being alone."