You hated Gilbert. Really you did. He was obnoxious, loud, and way too full of himself. It had to be anger that made your heart speed up every time he grew closer to you. It was the reason that your face flushed and your palms became sweaty when you heard that deep, ever so accented voice that rolled out of his stupid mouth like silk in the most distasteful of colors. It had to be hate, because the only other option was love, and that was impossible. The only reason you put up with him was that you were both on the track team, and he was a good runner. It wasn't like you checked out the legs and rear that were left so open to ogling by the shorts, or the toned, albino chest that was revealed to you when he took off his shirt for practice. And you had been kidding yourself when you thought you had seen him staring at you in any such manner.
You hated each other. That's all there was to it. At least that's what you thought, until a bright October morning as the chill was just starting to bite. You had on a red jacket, and a short sleeved gray shirt underneath. You were wearing loose jeans and some short-heeled boots. Your bag was over your shoulder, carrying the books for way too many advanced placement classes, in order to ensure you got into a college that would let you get out of this shithole of a town. You were walking from school, mentally triple-checking your homework list before you got too far away from your locker.
You were so focused on this that you didn't notice when a twig snapped to your left, by the bad neighborhood that was half trailer park half forest. You had no idea you were being followed until a tan hand grasped across your mouth, cutting off any cries for help. Your mouth was closed, lest you would have bitten the large, calloused hand keeping you from effectively screaming. You took a deep breath through your nostrils, thinking for a moment, and working your tongue through your lips, hoping to open your mouth enough with the combined muscle of the pink appendage and your jaw to be able to bite. Meanwhile you were kicking behind you like a panicked horse, and unfortunately hitting nothing with your most powerful weapons.
"I suggest you stop struggling, chica." A Hispanic accent you couldn't quite specify to a nation due to the situation said, and you nearly cried when you felt cold metal press to your throat. You obeyed the command, if a bit reluctantly. He removed the hand over your mouth, and moved it to helping his back hold your hands. Your heart was hammering in your ears as fear coursed through your veins like a paradoxical icy fire.
A series of solutions ran through your head, but none of them resulted in much more than you ending up with a bloody smile, something you wanted to avoid if at all possible. Just when you had given up, you heard another set of footsteps. You're mind rushed to the worst case scenario of this being one of his friends, but in reality it was a voice you never thought you'd be happy to hear.
"Will you let go of mien awesome girlfriend?" The raspy, german accented voice of none other that the man you hated. In spite of the fact that you were iffy on the word girlfriend, you were happy to have his help.
"And what are you gonna do if I don't?" The man asked, and he spun you around. Luckily, he seemed to have an Italian streak in him, however, because he gestured with the hand holding the knife far enough away that you were in no danger of getting cut when you kicked back on last time, hitting him in the groin. He let out a string of Spanish curses, and you ran over to Gilbert, though you made a conscious choice not to get behind him, but rather directly to his right.
"Keseses. I don't have to do anything. She's enough of a spitfire to take you down herself." He said, laughing as the man growled in anger. He rushed at the two of you, and you were surprised when the albino scowled, and moved you gently out of the way, catching the other teen in his rush and flipping him onto his back, sending the knife flying. Gilbert put a combat booted foot to his throat, and gave him the most threatening look you had ever seen.
"Holy crap, Gil!" You shouted, never knowing that he could do martial arts with such fluidity.
"Okay, so she's not really my girlfriend. At least, not yet." He winked at you, before moving his foot, and slamming it against the guy's head, knocking him out cold. The entire situation had happened so fast, and yet it had left you utterly confused.
"What the hell are you talking about? Why would I wanna date a guy like you?" you demanded, glaring at him your (e/c) eyes like daggers.
"So you're saying that I am your knight in shining sweatshirt, and I don't even get a kiss for saving you?" He asked, putting his hands in his pockets and leaning in to within inches of your face, a seductive smirk plastered on that pale face of his.
"That's exactly what I'm saying. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get home and do my homework." You said, feeling the scarlet blush on your cheeks as you rushed off.
He watched you leave, his face and body saying "Challenge accepted.

The day before Christmas break, he showed up in a Santa outfit, and asked if you wanted to sit on his lap. This was accompanied by suggestive eyebrow waggling, and followed by a sharp smack. He showed up at your house on New Years Eve, wearing a toga and a fake gray beard, asking you to call him big daddy. The next day he showed up in nothing but a cloth diaper, asking if you'd call him baby. You threatened to call your dad home from work if he didn't leave. On Groundhog Day, he arrived at your home in a costume of the holiday's namesake animal.
"I saw my shadow, so can I hide in your hole?" He said, smirking. You sighed, and shut the door, knowing that he would stay there. You went into your parents' room, and grabbed your dad's shotgun, reopening the door and pointing it at him.
"You look like a rabies ridden beast to me." You answered, readying it for fire. His eyes went wide, and he ran away, a string of German curses following him down the street.
But did you really want him to go? Sure you thought the mere institution of teen dating was foolish and stupid at best, and catastrophic at worst, and yet you wanted to just say yes to each of his foolish advances. You wanted to just cross the centimeters that he often left alone between your lips. But you had a reputation to uphold, and your pride would not let you say yes after so long. And yet, you wondered how long you could actually keep up the act.

It was Valentines Day, and you were waiting for him to show up in a cupid's outfit, with a bouquet of roses, or fine chocolates, and yet, when you saw him in the halls, he was wearing a normal outfit of jeans and a hooded jacket. He didn't so much as look at you, and you were a little worried. You had grown so used to his constant attentions, that you had come to expect that he would do something for you each holiday. But the day ended, and he had not even waved at you; simply walking by you with cold indifference. Your heart dropped a little, and you were in a bad mood as you walked home in the dreary daylight, as it filtered through clouds that foreshadowed rain. You walked into your home, and threw your bag down, nearly sobbing. You hadn't realized how dependant on the German you had become for happiness. While you rejected them, and pretended to be annoyed, his creative advances were the spark of your day, and what you looked forward to on a holiday more than the day itself.
You wondered if he had finally just given up, and chose another girl. The thought of finding him with another on his arm, or worse, on his lips, made your heart drop, and you nearly puked. You were in this deep, and you had not a single inkling that you even loved him. You took a deep breath, splashed water on your face, and grabbed your coat, running out of the door so fast; you forgot to lock your front door.

Gilbert was in his house, and debating whether or not it was worth the ass-kicking he would receive from his little, but bigger and more responsible, brother, should he break into the liquor cabinet, or grab a beer from the fridge, when the doorbell rung. He was surprised, seeing as how the only people who ever came in the house lived here and had a key. He went to answer it, and was surprised to see none other than you, standing there with a single red rose, and a box of chocolate.
"Well, what have we here?" He asked, his cheeks flushing a bit, as was made obvious by his nearly translucent white skin. He tried to keep a calm demeanor in spite of this.
"What else would a rose and candy on this day mean, idiot? Somehow you being a pervert has gotten to my hormone fueled heart, and I realized that even though I fucking hate you…I love you…" you said, turning away, and holding the items out at arms length. He took them, but immediately set them aside, and you were a little surprised when he scooped you up into his strong arms with apparent ease, and placed a forceful, passionate kiss to your unprepared lips.
Without thinking, you moved your dangling legs to rest on the soft protrusion of his hips through his loose t-shirt, and wrapped your fingers in his snowy hair. His came up to tangle in yours, and as he lost concentration on balance, you both fell to his carpeted floor, and disconnected, panting.
"I'd ask if you meant it, but if this is some cruel prank, I don't really give a fuck how dumb I look on TV if it means I get to kiss you like that." He said, his normal cocky smirk turning into a soft smile.
"Shut up, moron. Just make sure that you make up for not doing anything for Valentines Day on white day. We're doing this Japanese style." You said, and pouted before gathering yourself and leaving, a blush covering your entire body. He sat in his living room, and smiled as he watched you leave. And he may have stared at your ass the whole way, but he was your boyfriend now, right? No harm done.