Trials, Tribulations and Textbooks

Chapter 11

Décide de se venger/Plotting revenge

Francis trudged up the old, worn out stairs that spiraled towards the roof, annoyed with the world and grumbling to himself about paybacks and revenge. He flicked his shoulder length hair from his eyes, scowling at the faded pictures and graffiti adorning the otherwise plain walls.

As a rule, he was more of a lover than a fighter, but the incident that had caused his bad mood had almost made him turn against his own morals. The Frenchman had never really been in a situation that had required him to get revenge, or rather he'd never really cared enough to seek it; but he was willing to make an exception for that damned Canadian. He was starting to calm down about it, and was ready to flirt with some more girls, but the brunette had told her friends and they had been whispering about what had happened and been giving him disapproving looks all day. Never the less, this had decreased his luck with the ladies and he'd been cast back into a terrible mood.

Usually, anyone that understood the meaningless phrases of his mother tongue that he whispered in that fake loving tone of his, either ignored him and forgot or laughed and carried on with their own business. Never had they translated what he had said, to the person he was whispering to no less. Logic would say that the quiet boy had not meant to cause insult intentionally, but regardless, he had still done it. Still, he had a reputation to keep up with the Bad Touch Trio. He would need to teach the boy to be quiet in future and leave the Frenchman to his conquests.

He stomped up the last few steps, slamming the rooftop door open so hard it almost bounced back into his own face, and glared out into the late afternoon sun. Upon seeing his friends, the Spaniard and the German, his foul mood lightened slightly and he strolled over to them both. Noticing the green eyed boy was asleep, laying on his back, mouth open wide and drooling a little, he chuckled. The grey haired, slightly older boy, looked up from playing around with the little electronic device in his hands, which turned out to be his mobile, and connected eyesight with Francis, grinning a mischievous grin as they both knew what was going to happen. No words were ever needed when it came to mischief between the three, it was if they had a meeting of the minds and simply knew what one another were plotting.

Antonio lay on the ground, head resting on his bag, shaded from the glaring heat by a few discarded boxes around him and eyes closed in a light slumber. For now at least, since the red eyed German pulled out a bottle full of water, popped the cap off and poured it over the sleeping boy, all the while screaming, "Get up you lazy bastard! We came here to talk about Franny, not sleep!"

Francis roared with laughter at Gilbert's antics and the look upon the, now awake, Spaniard's face.

Antonio gave a ginormous yelp, leaping onto his feet and throwing himself at the first person he saw. This happened to be the Frenchman, "Damn you, imbécil!Now I'm soaked!"

He threw himself and Francis to the floor, himself on top, faces close, growling and trying to throttle Francis around the neck, whilst Francis was choking of both shock and laughter, "T-Toni, calm yourself, bête!" He prised the Spaniard from his neck, "If you wanted a hug, then you could have just asked, mon cher!" He winked, putting his hands up in a mocking defensive manner and blowing the angered boy a kiss.

"Oh, well since you offered!" He grinned, and leaned in to Francis' face, close enough to feel his breath on his own lips. Francis, wanting not to be outdone, raised his hand to Antonio's face, closing the gap between them that little more. It was almost as if the mood had changed between fighting to loving, that was until Antonio shoved Francis' face aside, laughing.

Meanwhile, Gilbert was doubled over, wheezing from lack of breath and crying with laughter, whilst still managing to capture a photo of Antonio's spur of the moment attack with his camera phone, "Toni, you should realise who you're trying to kill, before you kill them!" He coughed out between giggles - manly ones, of course, "You should have seen your face, you looked so angry."

He grinned again, pressing a few buttons on his mobile and a glint in his eye explained everything, "That's going on the internet!"

He raised one hand up behind his head and put the other by his hip, stretching in mock fashion of a model, "Oh, paint me like one of your French girls!" He laughed, earning a short glare from Francis, who was still lying on the floor, straddled by Antonio, "Anyway, why does the awesome me have to miss out on the fun, eh?"

Francis pushed Antonio off him, glaring at Gilbert, "Ooh! Francis, do you paint?" Antonio asked, completely oblivious to the film reference. The Frenchman simply patted him on the head, shaking his own sorrowfully.

"It's okay, Toni. Just forget it..."

Gilbert smirked at his friends, pulling out his mobile again, staring at the screen briefly, before closing it and putting it back in his hoodie pocket. Francis noted this, but stayed silent and mentioned nothing. He pushed the German to sit on one of the boxes, then did the same with Antonio, "How about we talk now?"

All three of them nodded, all the while Francis settled on the ground in-between the two boxes where the Spaniard previously slept.

"What's the problem anyway, Francis?" Antonio yawned, rubbing the back of his head, no longer bothered that his clothes were still soaking wet. With the afternoon heat and the sun shining brightly, they would soon dry off in any case.

Gilbert rested his chin in his hand, "Yeah, Franny. Why are you suddenly moping like a little girl? Did eyebrows steal your hairspray again?"

The Frenchman groaned, remembering the incident. It had happened last year, after one of Gilbert's infamous parties, this one being an end of year party, where the Bad Touch Trio had been celebrating the end of their second year and the year ones had been celebrating their first year of survival at the exclusive private Academy. Gilbert had invited as many people as possible and managed to get rid of his uptight brother for the evening, knowing that his younger brother would never had allowed the party to go ahead. Ludwig had been furious when he had found out that his mother had indeed not phoned that morning asking for help, when she'd answered the door, confused at his sudden arrival.

After copious amounts of alcohol, and far too many sugary drinks, Francis had decided to play a prank on the Englishman passed out in the German's living room. Granted, Francis was spurred on, probably more than necessary; by Gilbert and Antonio, however he was not one to miss an opportunity.

They had been trying to play pranks on him all evening, but he'd been guarded by the idiotic American most of the night. Alfred had spent most of the party intoxicated and running around in a cape, proclaiming that he was the hero and had somehow lost his trousers and shoes in the process. Much to everyone's surprise Kiku had joined him, similarly losing items of clothing; however he had managed to keep some of his modesty and had only misplaced his T-shirt. The boy had been sat next to the sofa, conversing with the generally quiet Japanese man about superheroes and video games, when Arthur had passed out in a drunken stupor.

Yao passed through the living room into the kitchen, calling Ivan's name. It was already three in the morning and Yao wanted to go home, knowing fully he would have to drag the drunken Russian with him and that would be difficult enough, considering he had consumed a fair amount of alcohol himself. Looking around the kitchen, he found himself staring into the back garden, out of the open window. He noticed that familiar scarf worn by his housemate poking out of the shrubbery. Without thinking, he grinned and yelled out in humor, "Oh my god! There's a commie in the bushes!"

Alfred's head whipped around, mid conversation, in the direction of the kitchen, dropping the sentence he had been saying to Kiku. He got up, bounding towards the kitchen, picking up speed, pushed Yao out of the way and leaped over the counter. He flew out of the open window, his cape billowing behind him, screaming, "You won't win this war, commie!" shortly followed by a giggling Kiku, who chose the option of going through the back door, pushing Yao in the other direction.

The Chinese man scowled at being shoved around, but then realized he should probably go and help his housemate out of the impending trouble, and also ran through the open door.

The Bad Touch Trio had been in the kitchen at the time, drinking beer and chatting, when the chaos had broken out. Realizing the annoying American was out of the way, Francis took the opportunity to peer into the front room, checking if the coast was clear, before grinning wildly back at his friends. Antonio was laughing and Gilbert was giving him the thumbs up, mouthing, "Do it!"

They all crept quietly into the living room, sniggering amongst themselves and making their way towards the sofa, where the Brit was half hanging off and drooling slightly. A certain person's brown bomber jacket had been laid over him when he had passed out rather early into the evening, unable to hold his liquor. They had tried to be as quiet as possible, to make sure the Brit wouldn't awake, even though he was snoring rather loudly.

Antonio scoffed, to be nudged by Gilbert, who shushed him and got his camera at the ready, "Some British bulldog..."

Francis pulled out two waxing strips from his pocket. He had commandeered them from one of the girls early on in the party, when he had been planning to dare one of the boys into waxing their legs, but this was just as good a use for them.

He placed the waxing strips on Arthur's eyebrows, careful not to wake him, with Antonio counting him down.

"3, 2, 1... Rip!" He shouted, at the same time, Francis pulled them off.

In retaliation for removing the Englishman's eyebrows, Arthur had replaced all of the Frenchman's hair products with dupes. There was glue in his hair wax, his spray turned his hair green and he was pretty sure his cologne now smelled like moldy old teabags.

The next time they had seen each other had been the following day, they stopped briefly in the corridor, and Ms. Cavendish, who happened to be passing, prepared herself for a potential fight. She had been rather surprised when the duo simply shared a short glare, but passed silently, one with no eyebrows, the other with bright green hair and smelling like teabags.

"Why does Lovi hate me? I haven't done anything..." Antonio mused, pulling Francis from the memory of that disastrous prank.

"Maybe, mon cher, because you pretty much molested him?"

Antonio looked blankly at his blond haired friend and whined, "Shut uuup! I did not!"

"That's not what I heard!" Gilbert stated, "Do you know how much of a telling off I got and it wasn't even me!"

After Ludwig had witnessed the scene in the Italian brother's kitchen, and after spending some time with Feliciano, he stormed home to have stern words with his own brother. He had found Gilbert sitting on the kitchen counter, headphones in and drinking straight from the milk carton - something which was one of many of Ludwig's pet peeves. He stormed over, grabbed the milk carton from the older German's hands as he was mid swig, managing to spill milk everywhere, pulled his earphones out and shouted at him.

"Firstly, stop doing that! Secondly, tell your Dummkopf Spanish friend to stop going around molesting people!"

"What the hell, West?!" Gilbert screamed back, trying to regain his composure and squeeze the spilt milk from his trousers, "It had nothing to do with me!" He paused momentarily and stared down at Ludwig's serious face. His own expression turned calm and so much so the younger German actually thought they were going to have an intellectual discussion for once, until Gilbert opened his mouth to speak again, "He finally grew a pair, then?" He grinned.

Ludwig simply sighed, rolling his eyes at the lost cause that was his brother.

"We can deal with that later, on the other hand, we have revenge to plot against a certain Matthew Williams," Francis sighed.

"Who?" The other two asked confusion clear upon their faces.

The Frenchman looked at them ludicrously, "You should know! That shy Canadian boy," He waved his hands in the air. Antonio yawned sleepily and Gilbert peeked over the top of his mobile, one eye squinted from the glare of the sun.

"Oh!" Gilbert cried, realization drawn across his face. On the other hand, Antonio still had no clue, "Alfred's brother?!" The German asked, tapping away on his phone and nudging the Spaniard with his elbow.

"Yes, his brother! I was simply minding my own business, chatting up this very pretty girl when he came along and ruined everything!" Francis threw his hands up in a mix of both exasperation and frustration, "It took me a week to get where I had with her!"

Gilbert smirked from behind his mobile, whether it was at the object or at Francis' situation was unclear but he muttered, "Oh you poor baby..." In a mocking tone a mother would use to their child.

The blue eyed man glared at his friend briefly, sighing, "You're not listening, are you?"

"But we are!" Antonio cried, in defense of his German friend, who paid no attention to the growing tension. It was only when Francis grabbed his mobile from his hands that he looked up, crying out and falling off the box he was sitting on, whilst he tried to grasp the object.

"Hey, Franny! Give that back!" Gilbert growled, reaching out into the air from the floor where he fell, "Why would you do that?!"

Francis cackled evilly, "So, I have your attention now?" He held the mobile high out of reach, "What's so interesting about it, that you keep looking at it, anyway?" He turned the object around in his hands.

The German suddenly went silent on the floor, as if he didn't want to talk about it. Eventually he spoke up, "It's nothing."

However, Antonio saw through, "It's Elizaveta, isn't it?" he nodded, as if he was sure of it, "What did you do this time, kiss her?" He laughed, jokingly.

Gilbert turned an even darker shade of red, all the while still staying silent.

Francis budged forward, leaning over the silver haired teenager, "Gilbert? Why are you quiet? You... Didn't did you?"

The boy on the floor shook his head profusely, but his blush gave it away. The other two started to pelt him with questions; all the while Gilbert tried to change the subject back on Francis.

"So... About your problem, Francis!" He smiled, pulling himself off the floor and grabbing his mobile from the Frenchman's hands.

Antonio grinned at Francis devilishly, "Stop trying to change the subject, Gil. It's plain as day what happened, so you might as well spill the beans." Francis nodded in agreement, both of them turning their heads inquisitively towards the German.

"Ich hasse euch beide. Gehen und sterben," He groaned, glaring at them both as he re-sat on his box. He noticed that both of them were listening intently. It was true, even though they were boys, they liked the gossip just as much as the girls - not that either of them would ever admit that out loud.

Francis waved his hand in the air, "Yes, yes, Gil. We've already established that you want us to die. Now carry on, I want to know what happened before the sun sets, please." He glanced at thee yellowing sky, a few hours had passed since they'd first met up, and yet all they had done was mess around.

Gilbert rolled his eyes, "I saved her butt in English, we met up at lunch, I nicked her food, I kissed her. Simple." He waved his hands around dismissively, as if that was all there was to tell. The other two looked at him with raised eyebrows, "What? That's it!"

"Aw! But there were no details!" Francis cried, clinging onto Antonio as they both feigned crying, "Gilly, you're so-"

"It's quite sad to watch. People, who refer to themselves as men, sat gossiping like a group of giggling girls. It's rather pathetic, even for you frog." The voice spoke in a sharp tone, cutting off the trio's conversation. They turned to the source of the voice to see Arthur stood by the doorway to the roof, accompanied by Kiku.

Kiku had originally been the one to suggest the trip to the roof, intending to get some shots from higher grounds of the school as part of his photography project, and Arthur had agreed to go with him, intending to do his own schoolwork, that was until he had spotted the idiotic trio already occupying the rooftop. Arthur turned to his Japanese friend and sighed.

"Perhaps we could come another time?" he asked glaring over at the trio with clear distain upon his features.

"How about you take your eyebrows and go burn some food?" Francis called over, angered at the abrupt interruption the Englishman had brought to their conversation, and his general appearance on the roof in general. Arthur stuck his middle finger up in the direction of the blonde and turned on his heel quick to take his leave, not caring much for the upkeep of his gentlemanly behaviour when the man was around. Kiku sent a glance over at the boys before quickly following behind.

They watched the pair leave before turning back towards each other and grinning.

"So where were we on planning your revenge?" Gilbert asked Francis, leaning back against one of the walled areas of the roof and placed his hands behind his head

A/N: Hello all! Sorry for the delay, but we're back! And I (Blue) am fully back too! :) Reviews are loved and cherished!

~Blue and Dead.

Translations:

Ich hasse euch beide. Gehen und sterben - I hate you both. Go die. (German)

Dummkopf - Idiot (German)

imbécil! - Idiot/Brute (Spanish)