Post by GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT on Aug 13, 2014 19:41:52 GMT -5
The sky outside was grey and heavy with the implication of a storm. Out across the horizon, the shadow of rain drew in steadily, announced dramatically with the accompanying flicker and crackle of wild weather.
Gilbert was counting the time in between lightning strikes and thunder claps, estimating the ever-shrinking distance between the storm and the dormitories. Hanging half off his bed, legs propped up on his mattress and back on the floor beside the stacks of neatly folded clothes, he stared irritably up at a ceiling that had cracked with age. He was bored and he'd already cleaned and rearranged everything in his room... twice.
He grumbled to himself, muttering something about having fun all by himself and how it was awesome to have the freedom to do what he wanted without having to care about what other people wanted.
He might have made a noise something almost comparable to a sniffle. Maybe.
When his phone rang, Gilbert dove for it, rolling off the mattress and rocketing himself on his belly across the floor with his arm outstretched to grasp the device now blaring Rammstein and vibrating atop a pile of clean, paired socks.
"Gilbert here," he half-shouted, jamming the phone against his face in his eagerness to answer it. "What's going on?"
Juggling a full backpack, his sweater, an open, heavy package, and trying to scroll through his phone while his glasses were falling down his nose, Matthew stood awkwardly outside his own dorm door with his violet eyes upon his phone’s screen. Blaring through the door’s wood was heavy German metal, which would account to reason his kicking at the door had been ignored. Seems his roommate was enjoying his music, no harm there, but Matthew was hoping at least he would answer his phone.
Finally, Matt managed to find the German’s name and pressed dial and shifting his full armload, he put his phone as close to his ear as he could. Taking a few steps back for the door, Matt bit his lower lip as the dial tone rang tantalizingly in his ear. His arms were starting to ache because his stuff was really heavy and it was hot out and he had had to run and now he was sweaty and…
"Gilbert here, what's going on?"“Gilbert!”
Nearly dropping his package, much to Matt’s anxiety, he shifted his arm and caught his backpack with his knee so he could stand like a crazed mannequin. “Gilbert, hey it’s me, Matthew! Um, I was wondering if you could come and open the door? I ah, left my key in the dorm and so, I’m locked out and… sorry!” Smiling into the phone, Matt opened his mouth to say more but with a French curse, dropped his phone to the floor. Groaning, the Canadian looked at it sadly, way down there on the floor, oh so far away.
By the time his dorm’s door opened, Matt was teetering on one foot, back against the wall, face hidden by his wares, while his fingers brushed his phone on the floor. “Almost… got it!”
Post by GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT on Aug 15, 2014 9:42:43 GMT -5
During the week, Gilbert got complaints for blaring his music, so he generally took advantage of the weekend to crank up the industrial rock. Today, between the distant roll of thunder and the heavy percussion and bass of whatever Rammstein song he was listening to, the gentle knocking of the Canadian outside the door was all but impossible to detect.
Now, with his phone in hand, Gilbert yanked open the door only to see what seemed to be a pile of items that had sprouted a pair of legs. Matthew (presumably, as he was barely visible behind his great load) was muttering something his roommate couldn't quite hear over Till's low, gravelly snarl.
"Whoa there," the albino called over the music. "Hey, what's all this about? We got someone moving in or somethin'?"
By this point, he had stepped out into the hallway with the intention to help lighten the others load. Lifting some of the items out of Matthew's arms, he joked, "Are you alright under there?"
"Whoa there, hey, what's all this about? We got someone moving in or somethin'?"
Matt managed to say surprise to hear another person’s voice right when he was so close to reaching his phone but the exact moment Gilbert came and helped Matt with his load was when his foot finally slipped from under him ad the blond landed on his bottom with a faint grunt. Blinking and looking up at his tall, German roommate, Matthew smiled and blushed deeply. Matt had only been in school for a bit but he had to admit that he enjoyed his roommate's company because somehow, Gilbert reminded him of Alfred. Perhaps it was the fact that both boys were highly energetic, obnoxious, and smart asses.
"Are you alright under there?"
“Oh, hey Gilbert! Thanks for that I just…” looking down at his opened mail packed in his arms, Matt continued, “It’s raining hard outside, you know that?”
Sure enough, Matt’s hair was dripping and his face was slicked with rain but his embarrassment only made his smile wider if only to assure the other boy that he was fine. Finding his footing and standing, Matt shifted his parcel and nodded his thanks and glanced at their dorm. “Sorry, I got caught up with stuff an then it started raining and I guess I was a bit frazzled from what my dad sent me”. Shrugging, Matt walked into their dorm and slipped off his soggy shoes.
Post by GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT on Aug 17, 2014 11:10:43 GMT -5
Putting the items he'd taken from his roommate down at the foot of his bed, Gilbert peered at the half-organized room.
"Watch out, I just rearranged everything," he explained loudly, waving to the strategically placed furniture, books, and piles of clean clothing that he just hadn't finished putting back into place. Making his way over to the sound system, he turned it way down so that he could actually hear Matthew's quiet voice.
Then, he grabbed a towel from one nearby piles of laundry to toss in the other's direction.
"Yeah, I noticed the storm out there -I gotta stay inside when there's lightning or I'll get struck every goddamned time." Gilbert let out a chuckle, but winced at the thought. "I think I might've given West a bit of nightmare fuel growin' up."
As Matthew dried off, the German boy quickly finished filling his dresser and bookcase. Then, flopping down on his bed with a satisfied smirk, he glanced over at his roommate. "So what's this about a package from your old man?"
Following Gilbert into their room, Matthew blinked at the new arrangements of their things but didn’t say anything; even if he cared that the other boy had totally moved his stuff without his permission, he was too preoccupied currently to begin to care. Sighing and setting down the wet package at the foot of his bed while Gilbert finally lowered the music, the Canadian begin to tug off his wet shirt, removing his glasses and setting them upon a dresser, and had just pulled his shirt over his head before a towel smacked him in the face.
Taking the towel with a smile at the German while Gilbert spoke, Matt threw his wet shirt into his hamper and began to dry off his hair with his lean and bare torso damp with rain but he cared not about standing in the room half naked. Of course, there was once that it would have but ever since Matt started transforming, he’s had to grow used to be naked because polar bears don’t wear clothes. Wiping behind his neck, Matt just gave Gilbert a sympathetic smile when the other spoke about being struck by lightning and his brother. Matt truly did like his roommate and Gil had to be one of the few people Matthew had been comfortable in telling about his true abilities.
Draping the towel around his shoulders, Matt began to undo his shorts to change them; hopefully his boxers were still dry, when he paused when Gil directed his question at him. Instantly blushing, Matt glanced blurredly at the box upon at floor and he bit his lower lip and chuckled in embarrassment.
“Ah, it’s a present, or a joke, or I guess both. My dad sent me a bottle of maple flavoured whiskey with the note saying, ‘Good job on the excellent marks! Cheers!’” Shrugging Matt went over to get the bottle and showed Gilbert, not knowing what he was going to do with it, before setting it beside his glasses. “I’m pretty sure alcohol isn’t allowed at school and the drinking age here is twenty-one. What do you think?” he asked, looking at the other while he swiped his damp bangs out of his face.
Post by GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT on Aug 17, 2014 20:49:06 GMT -5
Gilbert grinned crookedly at Matthew. They'd bonded well in their time as roommates, the mild Canadian balancing out Gilbert's rather eccentric (and occasionally abrasive) personality rather admirably. They were also able to occasionally commiserate about their brothers or the inconvenient side effects of having super powers... though they both reveled in Matthew's ability to summon adorable baby animals to their window for them both to dote on (in a completely masculine sort of way, though). They often studied together, as well, Gilbert and Matthew sharing an fascination for history that often led to long discussions on the topic, exploring different perspectives and ideologies in a way that really fostered respect for the other.
Their varied interests also converged on sports, Gilbert having raised the Canadian's awareness to football (or, as the Americans insisted, "soccer") and Matthew having introduced him to hockey. On game day, their enthused shouts could be heard by all of their neighbors.
However, there was a combination of words that left Matthew's lips that had the German completely bewitched.
"'Maple-flavored whiskey'??!?" he repeated slowly, eyes wide in wonder and awe at the glorious sounding combination. "Seriously?"
“Ah… yeah? It’s pretty good, really!” Matt gave Gilbert a reassuring smile and glanced at the shining bottle of amber coloured liquid of deliciousness. Matt didn’t often drink but he had had the whiskey a few times with his dad and apparently, his father thought that this was a good idea. Shrugging his shoulders, not exactly sure why Gilbert looked like he was staring at the Holy Grail, Matt continued with undoing his damp shorts and pulled them off to kick them into the hamper and fetch a new pair along with another t-shirt. Outside, the thunder growled and lightning flashed and Matt glanced at the rain splattering the window as he dressed.
Once he was modest once again, Matt went over to replace his glasses and grabbed the bottle and idly read the label. Glancing over at Gilbert, then back at the bottle, then back at Gilbert, Matthew blinked and an idea popped into his head. Maybe, just maybe… for once in his short, Canadian life, maybe Matt didn’t always have to be such a shy-dork. Okay, so he smoked pot, but drinking at school? Matthew had never done that, ever but…
“You know, Gilbert… I was thinking of just sending this back home, did you want to have some? I mean, it’s Friday, it’s raining and… it is really smooth and… ah, yeah…” Matt’s face grew more red the more he spoke and his bravado began to slip the more he glanced at the bottle and his goody-boy voice in his voice shouted at him that this was a stupid idea and he was going to get in trouble. Taking a deep breath, Matt lifted the bottle, twisted off the cap and took a swig, licking his lips to the taste and fought off the wince at the slow burn down his throat, before he offered the bottle slowly to Gilbert.
“Try it at least?”
Way to be a badass, Matthew…. and the thunder crashed as the storm increased outside.
Post by GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT on Aug 17, 2014 21:27:48 GMT -5
"You know, Gilbert… I was thinking of just sending this back home, did you want to have some? I mean, it’s Friday, it’s raining and… it is really smooth and… ah, yeah…"
Gilbert gave Matthew a look like he was insane. Why the hell would any student at Asher send home such a fucking awesome care package?!
"Whoa, Mattie, slow down! I mean, let's not get hasty 'r anything!" he insisted, peering over at the bottle in the Canadian's hands. He had already become completely addicted to maple syrup thanks to his roommate, and now... a combination of two of his most favorite things: alcohol and maple... it was a beautiful, beautiful thing. If only he could work in a whole flock of baby birds and maybe some puppies - that would make his life perfect.
But Matthew seemed to grow more awkward for ever millisecond the offer sat in the air. Finally, he seemed to give and quickly took a sharp swig of the bottle, surprising Gilbert completely. His roommate was almost as much of a goody-goody as West was (except for that time Gil had found the Canadian "hotboxing" their shared closet...), and to see him trying so hard to be defiant made the albino grin even more broadly.
"Try it at least?" he had asked, extending the bottle to him.
"Do you even have to ask?!" Gilbert asked with a cackle, taking the bottle up and drinking down quite a bit more than he ought have. He exhaled sharply, wrinkling his nose at the after burn, then nodded in approval. He looked almost triumphant as he declared excitedly, "This stuff's awesome!"
In all honestly, the look of amazement and puzzlement upon Gilbert’s face was not at all helping Matthew’s nerves and his sudden rebellious decision. Later, or rather eventually, Matt was going to need to call his dad and ask if he had been drunk when he considered sending his seventeen year-old son whiskey while he was at superpower school a good idea. His mom probably had no idea; she would have flipped out for sure.
With the taste of beautiful maple at his lips and the burn of the whiskey in his throat, the saying of “liquid courage” proved true because with that swig he took, the idea of drinking in their dorm brightened a bit in Matt’s mind, especially when Gilbert grinned and looks impressed, and he was looking at him! Wow, Gilbert’s expression all by itself was enough to make Matthew finally smile through his uneasiness and that only grew wider when the taller boy laughed.
Happily handing over the bottle to Gilbert, the Canadian watched with anticipation while the other teen drank and held his breath until he saw that nod of satisfaction, meaning Matt could breath easy. “I know, eh?” Mat chimed in excitedly, his cheeks red from his shyness but with more whiskey, the alcohol would be the cause of any blushing in his pale cheeks. Going over to sit on his bed, Matt swept a hand through his bangs and leaned forward to take back the bottle to take another drink, this time meeting the liquor’s burn with a grin and sound of satisfaction, before he handed it back.
Leaning back against the wall, smiling still, Matt looked from Gilbert to the window, content and actually relaxed, even if he was on an island way too hot for his liking. Reaching up to idly scratch cheek, Matt looked back at Gilbert, waiting for the other to say anything or just to enjoy his company… a bit of both.
Post by GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT on Aug 17, 2014 22:20:24 GMT -5
Gilbert was amused by how quickly his roommate was easing into the alcohol, but it was good to see Matthew relaxing. Sometimes the kid was just way too tightly wound and needed to just chill out... sorta like West. But Matthew was definitely cuter than West... well, in a different way. They were both cute like little birds!
But the Canadian's blushing face was really pretty sweet, and the way he was shyly smiling was only making Gilbert feel more content and at peace with the world.
Taking the bottle back when it was offered to him, the older boy swigged it slowly. It would be worthless to drink too fast and just end up sick over it - especially not such good liquor. Gilbert rolled it around in his mouth a little, savoring the taste. It was some really, really good shit... he almost dared to say he liked it maybe a little more than beer. Maybe. Just a little.
"You said your old man sent you this?" he asked conversationally, seating himself on the bed beside Matthew, kicking up his sock-clad feet on the nearby desk chair and lounging comfortably with his back against the wall. "He's got some damned good taste, lemme say."
Digging around in his jacket pocket for a moment, he procured his box of smokes. Packing it against the wall a few times, he shook out a couple cigarettes and offered one to Matthew. The other he placed between his lips and began to light.
"I only smoke when I'm drinkin'," was his offered explanation. "Or stressed. Heh."
"You said your old man sent you this? He's got some damned good taste, lemme say."
Matthew looked over at his roommate when the boy came and sat by him, before his gaze drifted down to his feet and his smile softened at the thought of his father. “Yeah, he’s pretty cool, though if I had to say whether or not my dad had a favourite, it’s have to be my brother. Still, my dad and I get along fine and apparently whiskey bonds us”. Finishing off with a soft chuckle, Matt idly slid his thumbs one against each other, simply enjoying the moment and the burn in his belly. Gilbert was right of course, he usually was a blond ball of clumsy stress but there were times, like this, that he found himself comfortable and allowed the worries of his mind to die for the time being.
From the corner of his eye, the blond watched the German retrieve his smokes, restraining himself from sucking in his breath, but instead politely gestured his decline when Gilbert offered, turning his head to flash his roommate a smile. “I don’t stress you out, do I?” He asked lightly, taking the bottle to take a smaller sip to savour before he continued, “Because I stress out enough for myself let alone you and I don’t smoke cigarettes”. Though Matt knew that Gil knew that… just thinking about the whole closet episode still made Matthew cringe with embarrassment.
Thinking about opening the window for Gilbert’s smoke, though it was raining, Matt jumped suddenly when the power suddenly went out and the pair were doused with darkness. Sighing but fine with the dark, Matt handed the bottle back to Gil and went over to retrieve his own lighter to light the small candle on his bedside that he used to read with sometimes when Gil slept. “Well isn’t this perfect drinking weather, eh?” he said cheerfully, settling back and looking at the candle.
Post by GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT on Aug 17, 2014 23:15:11 GMT -5
"I don’t stress you out, do I?"
"You stress me out?" Letting out a snort, the German shook his head. "I dunno if that's ever happened!"
Taking a long drag on his cigarette, he exhaled carefully, forming smoke rings to amuse himself. Matthew's comment about not smoking cigarettes made him laugh, his recalling just how ridiculously high his roommate had been that time before. Funny shit had been said and done that Gilbert wouldn't forget any time soon.
The lights flickered, then snapped off, the low hum of a generator somewhere powering down. Gilbert swore quietly in the darkness, only barely visible by the orange-red glow of his cigarette.
"Well isn’t this perfect drinking weather, eh?"
"What else am I gonna do? I can't go outside," Gilbert grunted, drinking as he repeated his earlier statement. It really was a hassle to have to run inside every time he heard a storm coming, but getting struck by lightning wasn't exactly a helluva lot of fun. Even as well as he conducted it, it still hurt like a bastard and knocked him on his ass for a few days. All in all, it was really just something he preferred to avoid.
He might have continued on in that vein if it weren't for Matthew's cheerful attitude that eased his apprehension somewhat and made him grin faintly. It was refreshing to talk to someone when the outlook wasn't all doom and gloom. Gilbert passed him back the noticeably lighter bottle, but clumsily brushed his fingers across Matthew's hand. For a moment, they had almost held hands, scrabbling in the room now dimly lit by a single small candle. The older boy was glad for that, though, his ears turning pink at the unintentional half-hand holding.
"S-sorry..." he muttered around his cigarette, puffing at it rather anxiously.
A wave of dulled guilt washed over Matt wen he heard Gil's comment, because he understand the difficulties of powers and to hear Gilbert's inability to enjoy a sore simply due to safety was not something he wished to bring up. The whiskey though was doing a good job however in keeping Matt from feeling completely bad because he laughed lightly, his smile infectious even in the candlelight and glanced over at Gil and was glad to faintly make out the other boy's smile.
When the German handed him the bottle, Matthew was distracted with thinking about how nice the rain sounded, how the thunder and lightning made his bear-nature stir with restlessness, and how well Gilbert's white hair caught the candlelight. So, when their hands touched and Gil muttered his apology, Matt just blinked at him and grinned, "What? Hey, I'm the Canadian, so sorry is my line!"
Bursting into a series of chuckles, the blond brought the bottle to his lips and when he drank, all he could taste was maple syrup and the burn of the whiskey was being lost as the alcohol began to take over his senses. Feeling absolutely great, Matt rested the bottle upon his thigh and sighed contentedly, before he said quietly in a gentle tone, "You know, Gilbert, you're probably one of the few friends I've ever had. Isn't that pathetic, eh?" Laughing at his own words, the boy waves off himself and just shook his head, grinning at his silliness. "But," he said in addition, looking aside at his companion with his glasses half down his nose, "you're probably one of the best too and you've certainly made this hell of a tropical island liveable. Thanks man".
Lifting the bottle in offering, Matt flashed Gil a bright smile of genuineness with a whiskey touch.
Post by GILBERT BEILSCHMIDT on Aug 18, 2014 12:18:08 GMT -5
"You know, Gilbert, you're probably one of the few friends I've ever had. Isn't that pathetic, eh?"
"I never had a whole lotta friends growin' up either, to be fair." Exhaling a stream of smoke through his nose, Gilbert watched it drift up towards the ceiling before turning to offer a half-genuine grin to Matthew. "Mostly it was just the old man 'n' I. It's hard to make friends when you're the weird kid... heh, and I'm weird in more ways than one."
He waved a hand at his face, indicating his albinism. With the next cloud of tobacco smoke came the cynical snort that didn't seem to fit the young man's usual carefree-seeming character at all.
"The old man always told me to ignore 'em, y'know? Some people are just shitheads... but it got real old real fast." Gilbert's crooked smirk grew nostalgic. "... So I started picking fights with everyone. I kicked lots of ass and I got my ass kicked lots, but hey, I made a new name for myself. I stopped bein' that weird kid and started bein' that kid who was gonna end up in prison before I graduated."
"But, you're probably one of the best too and you've certainly made this hell of a tropical island liveable. Thanks man".
Glancing over in surprise, Gilbert felt his eyebrows rising up his forehead. The smile that Matthew was giving him was making his stomach feel all weird and fluttery, and he was starting to feel like he would cry. No one had ever said anything like that to him before - not even West!
He took the bottle quickly to hide his smile behind it, trying to look like he wasn't more excited about those words than he had ever been about any dialogue in his life.
"You aren't half bad, yourself," was his response, trying to be macho and cool about the whole situation and trying not to squeal or whoop or tackle hug his roommate. "Outta all the guys at this school, I'm glad I got to be your roommate."
Look at me, old man, he thought as he drank, trying not to stare at Matthew's cheerful face too hard. I'm finally makin' friends.