The deafening music of the club pulsated along with the bodies pressed against each other, the air humid, people spilled their drinks and stumbled to get new ones. The bartenders worked frantically to satisfy all their customers, one which starting to make them nervous with his deranged eyes and slurred cursing. The man hasn't been there for long, but already he almost drank away his wallet. His friend too looked mournfully at each crisp bill passed to satisfy the drunk man. The bartenders only turned their heads as the drunkard cursed, clearly used to hearing the world's complaints.

The man in question drank down his drink in one gulp and turned hurt ruby eyes towards his friend, heartbreak visible in his eyes. His silver hair glowed underneath the club lights, something which he was often praised on for having 'good tastes', too bad no one knew he had no control over the silver strands. He was about to call for a bartender when his friend grabbed his wrist and held him back.

"Nein! Let me drink!"

"You've had enough Gilbert-"

"Fich dich! You don't know shit! That kleine schlampe left me and I'm not allowed to drink? Fuck all of you!"

Curious eyes turned to the pair, women smiling in sympathy as they easily recognised a newly formed bachelor. The two men were starting to become a spectacle, too bad Gilbert Beilschmidt wasn't a stranger for his public antics. His friend gave a quick glare to the curious eyes before turning back to comfort him, his nimble fingers reaching to touch a pale wrist.

"Mon ami, it's not worth it. It was bound to happen, it just wasn't meant to be."

Furious ruby eyes squinted at him.

"What the fuck do you know about losing love Francis?"

Francis glared at him, his face set in stone as his ocean eyes turned ice cold. Somewhere in Gilbert's drunk mind, he realised his flaw but still refused to apologise. Gilbert turned around to face his friend and gave a cruel smile.

"You know what, you got life lucky. All you ever do is grope a chick and then fuck her! All she does it spread her legs and beg for more!" By now Gilbert was cackling like a madman, clearly amused by the fact that his friend was able to just have women submit to his charm. He got a curious stare from a nearby woman and turned to her, pointing a finger somewhere near her breasts.

"What about you, huh? Will you suck my dick if I take my pants off? Then maybe jump every guy here until you finally proved a point?" The woman's face turned up in disgust. She shuffled closer to the man next to her, and Gilbert barely realised he growled at the obvious distaste in her eyes.

"YOU SLUT! DO YOU WANT A GOOD FUCK, EH! WELL GO FUCK YOURSELF!"

No reply was given, but it was enough for the bartenders to finally have enough of Gilbert. The silverette could already see someone starting to approach them, probably to finally throw him out like all the other times. Not willing to submit so easily, Gilbert merely stepped off from the barstool and stumbled over his own feet before straightening himself the best he could.

He gave the approaching bouncer and glare before turning to his friend who was casting worried looks at him. It made him sick. "Fuck you Francis, I came here to get wasted and you ruined my fun." Gilbert had no idea if his words made sense, if his English was actually English anymore. He needed to get out of here before more women gave him pitying looks. A twisted part of his mind wanted all of them to suffer in every way imaginable; he was tired of being screwed over by women.

Ignoring the people around, Gilbert started to push through the crowd to get out of the place. For some fucked up reason everywhere the man looked he only saw people making out and having a good time, something which only made his heart ache and anger coil around in his stomach.

Through the slight buzz in his head, Gilbert finally managed to wedge his way through the front door and briefly enjoyed the cool air that washed over him. He could feel small goosebumps rising on his arms and pulled his worn out jacket just a bit tighter around him. The streets were dark but lively, young people celebrating the weekend in every possible manner. He wished he could party right now, but honestly, what was there even to be happy about?

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Gilbert realised that Francis was his lift considering the men lived together, but the silverette couldn't bring himself to be anywhere near his friends. He needed to get away, just for a while. Sighing, the man walked along the sidewalk and processed his shitty day.

First he walked in on his girlfriend cheating, who wasn't even guilty about the whole thing, then he managed to lose his job because someone complained about his behaviour, then his own friends turned on him telling him about all the times they warned him and blah blah blah… Gilbert never asked for his life to be this hard, he never asked for his parents to turn out the way they did. But he couldn't change the past no matter how hard he tried.

Gilbert looked up when he realised he was starting to near some of the dangerous parts of the town, where the prostitutes and drug addicts roamed. They weren't bad people, Gilbert found himself more than once just hanging out with them – because unlike his friends, they understood the hardships of what life can really throw at you. Continuing onwards, the silverette smiled at a blonde woman with ruby red lips who in turn winked before turning back to her friend.

Deciding to just spend the rest of his night crying about his problems to the prostitutes, a shiny black car pulled up next to him. Gilbert gave himself a quick look over to ensure he didn't look the part of a prostitute, when the tinted window rolled down to reveal a man covered in shadows.

"Hey, you sure you belong here?"

The man had a strange accent, clearly not European, but Gilbert was intrigued. He neared the car and slightly leaned towards the window, to see the man wore a hoodie. Alarm bells went off inside his head, but right now the silverette was desperate.

"Who are you?"

"Sadiq Adnan, I was sent by Francis Bonnefoy to come pick you up, said you'll be around here somewhere."

Just hearing the Frenchman's name made Gilbert sneer in disgust. He didn't want to go back to his place. Sadiq must have noticed, because he gave a deep throaty chuckle before leaning forward and opening the door.

"Or you know, we could go back to my place."

"I don't do dudes."

Gilbert saw a filthy smirk.

"No problem then, I got some good stuff. You look stressed."

Giving into his own internal war, Gilbert cautiously slid into the car and admired the plush leather seats. He turned to face the man and was shocked to see he was kind of handsome.

"Well then, let's go ease some of your stress."

… … …

Gilbert Beilschmidt, age twenty-one, was only seen once again twenty-two years later.