Work Text:
Again.
He was here, sitting in the police station. And nobody was here to get him. Francis had taken his wallet so he couldn’t buy any more drinks when he took Arthur home, but Antonio had been too wasted to reject when Gilbert had asked for his. Of course, his head was ringing- he had been here over three hours, sleeping off the alcohol, but his headache didn’t help things.
Gilbert glanced at the clock. It was nearly three in the morning, and it was pouring outside. He needed to call someone to pick him up, because he didn’t have a car, and his brother was over at Feliciano’s house, working on their school project with Kiku. Roderich was probably asleep, and Gilbert didn’t want to wake him up. He knew how hard Roderich worked, especially now that he had a recital coming up, and he also didn’t want to have his ear lectured off. Vlad was probably up, but again, Gilbert didn’t want to explain his predicament to him, lest he was laughed at. And he also didn’t want to look bad in front of him.
That left Elizabeta.
Considering that they were on break, she was probably at home with her weird little brother Feliks. But Feliks was probably sleeping, so she was probably just hanging around her house, if she was even still awake.
He turned on his phone.
Her number was one of the ones he called the most- mostly little things, like the answers to homework or dates of Roderich’s performances, like her opinion on Vlad’s new book- always degrading- little things. Nothing of importance.
And the countless times he had called her to bail his ass out of jail.
As he was listening to the phone ring, he began to regret it. Elizabeta didn’t pick up right away. One ring, two rings, three rings, four-
“Gil?”
His face went red. Shit, what do I tell her? ‘Hey Eliza, i just got arrested, can you come pick me up at three in the morning?’
“H-hey Lizzie-”
“Where are you and how high is the bail?”
Gilbert made a sort of offended snort. “Jesus Christ, Lizzie. Can’t I call you without being accused of being arrested?”
Elizabeta sighed, sounding defeated. “Where are you, and how high is the bail.”
“...It’s 50 bucks and I’m down at the main station.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in ten minutes.” And she hung up.
Gilbert had always known Elizabeta to be a little weird- he had known her for years, ever since they were kids back in Europe, and when all four of them had moved to LA for their fencing team, they had stuck together, because Vlad, Elizabeta, Roderich, and Gilbert didn’t know anyone else in America. They had each other. Then Elizabeta’s adoptive parents had Feliks, and she and Roderich started dating, and they started to drift apart. Roderich got a scholarship for a Music program in New York, Vlad went to Norway with two friends in some writing collaboration, and Elizabeta was busy with the whole Braginsky incident. Gilbert felt all of his friends drifting away, and he began to suffer from it. His grades dropped, he stopped leaving the house except for fencing practice.
That’s when it happened.
Elizabeta proved Ivan’s innocence. Vlad got his first book published. Roderich won a prestigious music award and got a scholarship to a college. Vlad and Elizabeta both applied for writing and psychology, respectively, and got in. Gilbert was left in the dust with his terrible grades.
Until his fencing team won a national tournament.
Using this, Gilbert was able to get a scholarship to the college that they were all attending, and they were together again. They got a house near the college and lived as roommates, and everything was finally working out. Gilbert was getting out of the worst of his depression, and he was finally starting to think of his life after college.
Of course, now there were on break, so they were all back in LA.
It was raining outside, so the headlights of an approaching car weren’t easy to miss. Gilbert sat up, looking out as Elizabeta entered the station, her hair plastered to her skull and her clothes soaked through. She quickly paid for Gilbert’s bail and stood at the door, waiting for him.
He couldn’t help thinking she was very beautiful.
Gilbert got up slowly and half-ran, half-dragged himself out the door, waiting under the awning for Elizabeta, who followed soon after. Then they both dashed to Elizabeta’s car and threw themselves inside, slamming the doors shut and avoiding each other's eyes. Elizabeta turned on the car, and Marina and the Diamonds began blaring from the speakers of the car. She quickly shut it off and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway.
They rode quietly for a long time, raindrops splashing endlessly down on the windshield of the car, and Gilbert glanced over at Elizabeta. She was rigidly staring at the road, her long hair drying in the heater and her back completely straight. He cleared his throat.
"Lizzie-"
"You have to buy me some new sunglasses, you know. You took the last pair."
His fingers went to his back pocket, where he could've sworn he had the sunglasses he was giving her as a replacement but finding nothing.
"Francis doesn't have them, I already called him."
Gilbert sighed exasperatedly. "It's a medical condition, Lizzie, and I got you a special pair."
She rolled her eyes. "You said that about the last two."
He slapped his hand on the wet car seat. "I mean it this time!"
"Sure." She smiled slightly and turned onto the freeway, letting the car lapse into tense silence. Gilbert started tapping his foot to break it, uncomfortable.
"I really did get you a nice pair."
And he had. He had gone out shopping with Francis and Arthur, because they commanded so much attention to themselves that nobody really noticed his albinism, and he had seen them at a kiosk outside of a chain restaurant. They were Amber and brown, gently fading in and out of each other like a tortoiseshell cat. He bought them, even though they were quite overpriced and Elizabeta probably had the pair anyway.
Elizabeta sighed, bringing Gilbert back to the present. "But you don't have them now, do you? And it's fine, actually, Toris got me a new pair."
Gilbert gritted his teeth. He hated Toris, for taking Elizabeta's time with the Braginsky case and for just being so damn polite all the time. It was sickening, how nice he was to everyone. "Then why are you nagging me about getting you one?"
"Because you need to learn to take care of stuff on your own, Gil."
“Don’t treat me like I’m five.” He muttered, feeling that knot in his stomach that formed when he felt like he had messed something up. It used to happen all the time in school- he’d fail a test and feel guilty even if language barriers, psychological issues or anything else got in the way. He sometimes couldn’t help his scatterbrained attitude. As much as it was a genuine expression of himself, it served as a coping mechanism to hide his insecurity as well.
Elizabeta glanced over at him and sighed. “I’m sorry, Gil,” She said, frustration coloring her voice. “I just- we’re not gonna be here forever.”
“Why not?” he hated how his voice cracked, and how annoying he sounded. “We did it through school. Why do we have to stop now?”
Elizabeta didn’t answer, and Gilbert shifted uncomfortably in his seat. A car whooshed past on their right, and Elizabeta changed lanes to follow it.
“We’re not kids anymore,” She began, but seemed disjointed in how she was answering. Finally, she took one arm off the wheel and rested it on the windowsill.
“I’m going back to Budapest.”
Gilbert’s heart dropped out of his chest. “What?” Elizabeta only inclined her head to the side, so he continued. “When?”
“Second week of June, after Roderich’s final recital.”
Gilbert didn’t know what to say. He thought back on his earlier night, and how little he had known, compared to now, in Elizabeta’s car.
“I got a job offering to do research on criminal psychology of children. You know, from the Braginsky case. The guy said he really liked my analysis and that I could get some real stuff done there.” She changed two lanes over to the left and took the offramp near Gilbert’s house. The time, which had seemed to stretch so long during the drive, suddenly seemed to pass much faster to Gilbert, and his heart started to beat faster.
“Th-that’s great, Lizze,” He began, but was unable to hide the dejection in his voice. It would be useless, anyway. They both knew how he felt.
Elizabeta pulled up into the empty space by his curb. The porchlight was on, a sign that Ludwig hadn’t come home and had probably stayed over at Feliciano’s. She parked the car, but made no move to kill the engine.
“Need anything else?” She said, looking down at the wheel like she was frustrated with something.
“No,” He said quietly. Something was wrong. He knew this wasn’t how this was supposed to go, but he was too fucking scared to do anything about it.
“Hold on,” he said, then opened the door before he could give himself time to think. He stumbled on the wet concrete up towards his door, wiggling the spare key out from behind the plant next to his door and letting himself in. His parents were still abroad in Germany, so he didn’t pay any attention to the noise he was making as he rifled through the things he’d been leaving around the house for days. Finally, he saw the shopping bag he was looking for. He had been saving these, for what, he didn’t know. But now was the right time, and he knew he would hate himself if he didn’t use it.
“Here,” He muttered as he opened the door and held out the glasses.
Elizabeta looked surprised at first, maybe by the quality or the gesture, or the fact that he had glasses after all. She tentatively looked at the glasses, then at him, then took the glasses from his hand. “Thank you,” She said, unsure of her words.
Gilbert sighed, then put his knee on the passenger seat until he was close enough to pull her face to his and kiss her on the mouth.
It lasted only a second, and when Gilbert pulled back he felt his face catch on fire. He knew how apparent it looked, so he lingered awkwardly on the seat for a second. How odd, for something he’d thought about for years to be this inconsequential in the execution.
“Uh, well, goodnight,” he muttered, and made the move to leave.
“Wait,” Elizabeta blinked at him for a moment, then reached out for his chin with both hands. Gilbert could feel the warmth of them on his face as she guided him back for a deeper kiss.
When she let him go, she smiled an amused smile. “Goodnight, Gil,” She laughed, turning back to the wheel. Heart pounding, Gilbert nodded- nodded, how stupid- then bolted from her car. He closed the door and made his way hurriedly up to the steps, looking back only when he reached the safety of the porch.
Through her window, he saw Elizabeta wave, before he heard the muffled sound of Marina and the Diamonds start again as she drove off. Then he was alone, the rain drumming a tattoo on the roofs of the houses and the yellow glow of incandescence to accompany it. For a second, he put his hand to his face, which was still warm from embarrassment, and waited as it gradually cooled. Then, he smiled, and went back into the house, finally shutting off the porch light.