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Chapter Text

T/N: “Um dia é da caça e outro é do caçador” = “One day is the day of the hunter and the other is the day of the prey.”. It has the same meaning of the expression “Every dog has his day.”

Chapter 01.

"I'm not a romantic, Mr. Beilschmidt. A marriage must be a social arrangement beneficial for both parties. It needs to be convenient and comfortable, not melodramatic and saccharine. Love is not an essential element in a relationship, don't you agree?"– Some may say that's bullshit, but I guarantee that I can remember vividly the moment when the young lord abruptly made this confession. It was our first month organizing the event,at five in the afternoon and we were alone in what would be, in the next morning, the wedding reception hall for a different client. My last job before I devoted myself exclusively to the aristocrat for the next coming months. I was doing my tasks and arranging the recently-delivered white rosesin vases and he, as usual, was watching me in a chair, at a distance, for no particular reason. We were silent for some time and that question came out of nowhere.

Well, this wasn't the first time that I had heard that viewpoint. That historically inaccurate claim that "Marrying for love is such a old way of thinking!" accompanied by an contradictory concern for choosing a dress the groom would love or worrying about the possibility that the band wouldn't play 'their song' had appeared a few times, and it was always a curious thing to hear, though not unusual. I interacted with too many brides and grooms to keep bothering with the marital problems of each couple.

However, that aristocrat's statement was practically recorded in HD quality in my memory. That was somewhat unexpected, I admit, although it was not as impressive as he wished. In general, the people who said "A marriage doesn't need love!" were men who had had a wild sex life in the old days and wanted to preserve some of their "honor" by communicating indirectly that "No! I didn't become one these guys that I used to tease in the past! I'm getting married because it's more practical for me, not because I turned into a sentimental fool! I swear!". Heh! It was hilarious! There were also those who said it because their bride or groom were so unbearably annoying that it would be humiliating to confess that they had fallen in love with that thing. They felt the involuntary need to justify their relationship to humanity, and, in certain cases, I would agree that they really should.

Roderich Eldestein, my fancy client, didn't fit in either of these two profiles. He was marrying a joyful fellow named Antonio and, man, I swear that guy was so cool that he would give his house to you if you asked with a "pretty please". The aristocrat didn't have to justify to anyone why he was marrying Antonio, since almost all members of my team were willing to marry Antonio too. What can I say? Just like my awesome self, Mr. Carriedo was one of those irresistible guys. Oh, it's a gift and a curse. Continuing my line of reasoning, yeah, he didn't need to explain himself, neither do I need to comment how hilarious it would be to think about the young master as a cheap seducer. Roderich waking up in unknown beds and bragging about how many he banged at a party? Pffff! Just with this very thought, I have to control myself to not cry out laughing!

Taking all of these considerations in account, I was somewhat surprised by his statement, sure, but not as shocked as the young lord would like. I don't know, dude, I think that he was waiting for me to slip out a scandalized "Oh! How dare you say such a thing, Eldestein?! You are about to get married!"He thought he was starring in a big scene and all that. Too bad for him that we weren't in a opera by Puccini. When he made his more-repetitive-than-he-assumed speech, I just asked, finding the situation quite funny:

"And your fiancé is aware of this?" I raised an eyebrow with a teasing smile forming on one of the edges of my face. 'Social arrangement'. Man, the young master came up with some really interesting lines. He couldn't open his mouth without making me laugh. "Have you already discussed the terms of the contract? Signed a treaty? Talked with the legal authorities?"

In response, he narrowed his eyes, staring at me as if to identify a type of insect.

"You're not reacting in the right way," he complained with an offended pout.

See? He probably wanted to make a big scene and became frustrated with the fact that it wasn't so easy to shock the amazing me. To his disappointment, I didn't even move from my position. I remained kneeling before the vases of flowers that I was arranging, only adding a note of amusement in my expression and slightly inclining my head to the side.

"Well, Roderich, what the hell do I have to do with this?" I shrugged, still smiling and keeping my hands working. "I am a wedding planner, not a fairy of love! Do you see me sighing dreamily as I organize this stuff?" My smile grew a few degrees to the left and my gaze distilled all my sense of the ridiculous as to that hypothesis. "Of course not. Do you know why? Because, personally, I have nothing to do with love and weddings and don't give a damn about what my clients think about it."

Throughout my triumphant speech, as if he wanted to fight back my previous lack of surprise, the young lord remained impassive. Oh yeah. This forced indifference could only be a kind of childish vengeance, since receiving the revelation that the person who is doing the preparations of your wedding is not a sentimental or a great admirer of love and its variants, is not a very common event.

I mean, I've never used eye-drops to create tears, pretending to have emotions that, in reality, I considered comical, but it was not like I could show that skeptical side to my clients often. To be honest, I've never been sure what motivated me to reveal só much to the aristocrat. We just had this mutual effect. You know, the effect of erasing any need of impressing each other, which spontaneously caused events like this one.

Due to my knowledge that Rod couldn't care less about what I thought of him and that he was aware that I wasn't bothered with whatever he thought about me, I concluded that he would end up a bit angry and complain of 'My rude and immature sense of humor!', staring down at me while adjusting the position of his glasses

Interestingly, this didn't happen. As I mentioned, instead of making his characteristic expression 'Beilschmidt, you big fool!', he left his appearance more neutral than normal throughout all of my speech; and that's saying a lot because his face was already abnormally neutral. Also, instead of taking the offensive, he was quiet for few seconds longer than necessary.

I can't imagine what went on in the mind of the young master at that moment. I can only say that when he finally expressed himself, his words were even more incredible than I had imagined:

"Your lack of poetic sensibility is mortifying." was his comment, with a disapproving slant to his mouth. I'm not even joking here. He was complaining about my lack of poetic sensibility! Pffff!

Goddamnit, Rod!

"Says the guy who just called his wedding a 'social arrangement' out of an anthropology class!" I cried, laughing way too hard, my eyes widening with a mixture of wonder and fun, admiring his formidable audacity. Then, lowering my eyes and my astonishment level, I went back to what I was saying "However, organizing a wedding depends on aesthetic knowledge, budget and contacts. It doesn't involve the ability to cry watching 'A walk to remember'. I won't have any concern with your feelings if you keep them from affecting the flowers and the buffet. Ah! And especially that damned statue of ice of yours! It took a lot of work to get that freaking thing!"

He appeared to be satisfied with this answer, since, from that point on, he began to demand that I work faster and ended our prior discussion. That was just fine by me.

Seriously, I had nothing to do with Rod's emotions and thoughts or whatsoever.

But Roderich never learned it. For this reason, we reached our tipping point.

I had this conversation with Roderich before his first wedding. In six years, I would organize a total of three weddings for him.

Unbelievable, right? When he said he wasn't marrying for love, he was not bluffing. On the other hand, it seemed that his method of joining hands for pure convenience was in need of some serious revisions.

His first marriage was with Antonio Carriedo, a great person. He said his reason for marrying Carriedo - despite the very noticeable contrast between their personalities and even though their relationship was more friendly than romantic - was because Antonio was rich, stupid and could provide a comfortable life to him ... Yes, yes, can you believe that Rod almost threw one of the desserts samples at me when I said that this was the same reasoning of an single woman of the fifties? Totally unfair.

Rod and I had a moderate number of interactions in that first year. He hired me six months before the wedding and everything was rather quickly resolved. However, there was enough time for me to meet him occasionally and learn more about that aristocratic personality. I discovered, for example, that he was a real expert in desserts and knew how to prepare some that could seriously serve as my payment (and this was information that I could never, never allow to reach him), that he boasted that whole aura of sophistication but was more disorganized than a six year old's room, that he was a composer of soundtracks for introspective films and that he liked traditional decorations. Among other small things.

Then, six months passed and I left him in the hands of his fiancé, ending our association with a party as fantastic as would be expected of something produced by such a amazing person as myself. I confess, however, that I was a little ... I don't know. I didn't enjoy being there.

I had few encounters with the aristocrat and due to the short time-frame I received for planning, we spent most of the time running and screaming at each other ... We were not exactly the best picture of cooperation between a groom and a wedding planner. Heh! To be honest, I think that if anything, we were closer to being the worst example of cooperation between a groom and a wedding planner.

Still, part of me regretted that my job had ended. He was such a unique person, that young lord. Being with him was always a comic and strangely fascinating experience.

I concluded that our relationship would end there. Wedding planners and grooms don't usually become friends. Business were business.

Two years later, guess who shows up in my office while I was sitting at the table dealing with budgets? Roderich Eldestein, ladies and gentleman. I was so honestly confused that I ended up joking:

"Oh. Mr. Fancy Pants! So you already have come to request my services for the marriage of your adopted son?" I extended my hand in a mocking gesture, giving one of my most sordid half-smiles as a gift of welcome. "The time surely passes fast! I remember your wedding as if it had happened two years ago!"

When I saw the aristocrat crossing his arms over his chest tightly in response, as if carrying a heavy suitcase, and transforming that usually indifferent expression in a subtly disapproving one, so typical of him, those two years suddenly felt ike a mere moment. Technically, when two people meet again after a long separation, there should be an initial strangeness. And that wasn't our case. When I saw the young lord, I felt transported to the past, as if all those days apart didn't have any influence on us, as if we were somehow immune to the flow of the time.

Probably with the same feelings, he sighed and gave an answer that absolutely didn't match with a touching scene:

"Frankly, I fail to understand how you still have customers, if that's how you greet them," he proclaimed with his usual complete-apathy-that-was-still-strangely-recriminatory-at-the-same-time.

Ah! How I missed that proud pseudonoble!

"I have clients because I am the best and they know it." I started to turn in my chair and moved my shoulders and my hands slightly upward in a gesture that intended to demonstrate my immense disregard for a question with such a simple answer. "I can't help if you don't understand my advanced sense of humor, young lord! How pitiful!" I closed my eyes and smiled with false complacency. "Very sad, indeed! I'm gonna cry thinking about you tonight!" After laughing abundantly at my clever sarcasm and laughing even more at the sourness that it generated in that noble figure, I wiped my eyes, finally ready to go to business. "Now, seriously, who is my customer?"

"I am your customer, you fool," he said impatiently, clearly conveying a message of I-can't-believe-that-you-really-haven't-noticed-it-yet in his expression of exhaustion with my existence, that didn't required any other body language.

And maybe he had a legitimate reason to be impatient with me, considering that, even though he had been more explicit than Kate Winslet's last movies, that didn't prevent my mind from saying “HOLD ON A SECOND!" and then stopping abruptly

Wait. Wait. Wait.

I am a wedding planner. I work with wedding parties. And Rod is looking to hire me.

Roderich is married, isn't him? Heck, Gilbert, of course he is. You organized his great and magnificent wedding party. He's married.

… Or he waaaaaas married?

My eyes darted to his left hand and, as if he knew what I would do, he opened it, making the movements of a king cleaning the hand that was kissed by a commoner. There was no ring in that hand. However, there was a new one in the other.

"Huh?" I let this significantly confused sound escape, looking at the young lord, as if he had just announced that he wanted to record a video dancing to "Like a Virgin". It had been two years since he had married a guy who seemed perfect ... However, here he was. Wearing a new ring on his hand and, what was even stranger, in my room again. At that time, I thought I understood what was going on, but at the same time, I couldn't understand a single thing.

Then, Roderich's eyelids drooped slightly. This simple action changed his offended expression into something more smug and billions of times more annoying.

"I divorced Antonio. We are no longer married. I'm marrying another person who isn't..."

"I get it, I get! You can drop the cynical attitude!" I interrupted impatiently, rubbing the back of my hand against my forehead. "Urgh. You're always such a pleasant and lovely fiancé, aren't you, Rod?" I questioned, struggling to ignore how much he was emanating a revolting victorious air without doing anything more than adding a layer of pride to his features. As they say, one day is the day of the hunter and the other is the day of young masters who acquire a sense of humor in the worst moments. Or something like that. "Why did you divorced Antonio?" Inevitably, I went straight to the point. "Did you met a richer and more attractive man? Damn! Show me this guy!"

"What an uncouth suggestion," he scolded me, closing his face. "And take this stupid grin off of your face. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be interested in this person. I'm with a woman this time," he said dryly, and if it isn't obvious enough to you, the young lord knew that girls weren't and have never been my thing. Not like Roderich, who didn't care at all about the gender of the person he was dating, only with the practical benefit that it would bring to him. So he was with a woman, huh? When his composure returned and my interest subsided, he continued his explanation. "As for my divorce, I merely concluded that my husband couldn't offer me what I was looking for. Money isn't that important in a marriage, I discovered." That part, I was kind of 'Wow! This is the same young master with whom I met two years ago?!'when he added, "...at least, not when you already have money, of course."That relieved me considerably. Phew! That was the lazy materialist that I knew!

"So you joined the team of hearts and angels with arrows, aristocrat?" I inquired in a somewhat biting way. Nah. In fact, I was not asking a serious question but only teasing him. I didn't buy that at all. This little reunion was enough to inform me that he hadn't changed that much.

His lips and his eyebrows curled with more indignation than I could expect and with more indignation than he had anticipated too. From what I observed, that reaction caused the same surprise in both of us.

He probably noticed how much my eyes opened because in a matter of seconds, he executed a 180-degree turn in his attitude, as if correcting a small lapse.

"No, this isn't my motivation to marry miss Elizaveta," he replied with his eyes briefly closed, showing a graceful serenity, which was quite strange, coming from someone who had just looked at me with the same face of the movie vampire Nosferatus being defeated by sunlight,simply because I mentioned the idea of him becoming a romantic.

What was with this sudden change of mind, aristocrat? You went through a transformation over the last three seconds and evolved from 'Rod-can't-stand-jokes-mon' to 'Rod-can-stand-jokes-to-a-certain-point-mon'? Seriously, what the hell ...?

"I'm not in love with her."

"Oh, interesting." I put a hand on my chin and crossed my legs. "What's your reason now?"

Again, his answer was given in a placid and indifferent way:

"She's a good friend. I figured that if it's necessary to share your life with a person, this person should be someone with whom you have some kind of special bond," the young aristocrat argued, and then possibly wanting to reinforce his point and avoid my jokes (Ha! As if he could escape!), he added "Sense isn't sensibility."

Wow. That was one heck of a story.

To be honest, when the young master informed me that he wasn't in love with his fiancee, the first sensation that occurred to me was a vague evil pleasure. That's because I recognized in that speech the same inconsistency that I had encountered two years ago, so I was having the evil fun of those who know the end of a movie and laugh at the ignorance of the protagonists about their futures, while watching it again.

I wasn't counting with this change in his methods.

He was no longer following the 'wife-of-the-fifties' line. Now he wanted to imitate a romantic comedy from the 90's and experience the classic 'I-never-noticed-that-my-best-friend-was-my-true-love-this-entire-time' relationship. To what extent was he committed in this relationship? Was it merely a variation of his previous plan or did it have potential to become something bigger?

"Wait. Let me confirm something..." I pressed my forehead, deep in thought "You think you can fall in love with her because you're friends?"

"No."

Dude, he didn't even blink.

"Still taking the easier road, huh," I concluded with a soft and accidentally enigmatic smile, giving a glance to the other side.

"Do you have anything to say on this matter?"

For a second, I felt something beginning to rise in my throat. It was swallowed up so fast that I can't specify exactly what would it be. I can only guarantee that I was not as instantaneous as the last time I received a similar question to that.

Anyway, I just presented my most logical and rational response.

"It's none of my business." I waved my hand in a dismissive gesture. "Unless you're engaged to someone who stabbed you, I won't say a word about your love choices. Don't overestimate yourself, Rod. My guesses are so amazing that people have to pay to receive them. Don't think that you will win them without one or two sacrifices and promises of eternal devotion."

"You haven't changed a bit." He snorted, but I noticed that those words didn't carry hostility, really.

"I've reached the ideal form." I laughed with a shrug. "Why change?"

"Why did I even expect a different answer?" He rolled his eyes and unfolded his arms, approaching me, resigned.

"Easy!" I replied with less teasing than nostalgia in my voice. "Because you also didn't change at all, young lord."

And I swear I saw the trace of a smile through his stoic semblance as the young lord leaned to grab the wedding magazines scattered across my desk.

Chapter Text

Chapter 02.

This time, Roderich came to me seven months in advance. In terms of deadlines, he wasn't the most generous person in the universe but our past experience, in which I almost died of exhaustion and stress, taught him that major events should be organized early. So he gave me one extra month.

Holy shit, Rod! A whole extra month! Wow! Now, all my problems have been removed! I'm so comfortable that I maybe should organize my agenda to contact my suppliers only on the weekends and let weeks pass before choosing the clothes and dishes of your party. One month! Even if I sleep all day, I still will have almost an eternity before your wedding!

SAID NO-ONE EVER.

A month was nothing. He was stingy even about his time. Honestly, he was very lucky to have me by his side. I was one of the few people with ability to deal with his pace and eccentric habits. Hmph. That must have been the reason why he came to me again to organize his ceremony.

In this second marriage, I initially assumed that I would spend more time with the bride than with Rod and my feelings about this change were a little confusing. How can I describe it without having to use stupid and emotional metaphors... Hm... I was frustrated but relieved? Yes, this is a good way to describe what was happening to me. As I mentioned, the experience of organizing Rod's first wedding was fantastic. Just as giant and scary waves seem fantastic for some surfers, but anyway... I had fun, but it was over. I did my job.

If I had to plan another marriage for Rod, not involving him with this new project seemed like the best idea. I had the impression or premonition that it would veeery uncomfortable to once more organize the party at his side. His bride would bring a fresh air to the scenery and that was the only thing that someone super-efficient like me needed to work. She probably wouldn't be the same as Rod, since no one could be like him - and I mean that as both a compliment and as an insult - but she would bring a new perspective to the event. Fresh air, new perspectives and new company. That would be for the best.

Ha, ha! Maybe I could even forget that the aristocrat was the one getting married!

My brilliant plans, however, were ruined by external forces. Forces such as the unexpected determination of Rod to be the bride. He entirely took over the reins of the wedding planning. His meddling and stubbornness meant that a good number of people on my team didn't even see the bridge until the big day.

Lucky bastards.

His fiancé was a woman named Elizaveta. She was pretty, charming, and very... Let's say, “protective” of Rod. Bah, what's the sense of using euphemisms here? She was insane! To summarize the story, she was not involved with most of the preparations for the event, however, during the rehearsals, the only days we saw each other, her body language conveyed the clear message that if I ruined Rod's big day (yep, I was beginning to wonder if I should take the aristocrat to try on dresses and take Lizzy to he tailor), she would serve me as a main dish in their party.

... Every rehearsal in the church was a nightmare

N-Not that I felt intimidated by her! Of course not! I-I just was feeling nervous because..er ... because I care too much about the satisfaction of my clients! A-As if someone as amazing as me would ever get scared of a bride who could run in heels high enough to pierce my skull! Ha, ha! What a joke!

Ahn ... Let's change the subject, okay?!

Fine, although Elizaveta Herdevary was kinda like a tamed lion, she was also a great girl. I can understand her side; she just wanted to protect the person she loved and maybe I would do the same in her place. I mean, If anyone thought about doing something to hurt my little brother, I would annihilate him ...! Or rather, I would kick his remains after Lud destroyed him! I taught the boy to take care of himself, after all!

As I said, I totally empathize with her feelings.

Lizzy was a ambitious, beautiful, funny woman, charmed by Rod to the point of being blind to his faults, and his loyal friend. What was my conclusion, then? This time it would be permanent. I was organizing a wedding that would have a real meaning for the young lord.

And it wasn't difficult for me to visualize his ideal wedding, given that we got to know each other much, much, much more, in this second event.

In those seven months, everything was so rushed that it wasn't unusual to schedule many meetings with Rod in the middle of the week to do activities like discuss the budget or ask if he couldn't consider an alternative and forget that stupid statue of ice that he already used in other wedding, and so on. We called each other every day. Apart from issues necessarily relevant to my work that forced me to contact him anyway, it often seemed that Rod had the need to call me to talk about each flash of inspiration that occurred to him about his wedding. Also, I guess that I had my own flashes of stupidity when I heard his voice, since I wasn't able to ignore the phone or acquire enough strength to be the one to hang up first.

I was pretty much stuck in that vicious cycle.

"What do you want, Rod? I'm talking to the chef at the buffet ... What?! You decided to use Japanese lanterns in your marriage? No way, young lord. We changed the original theme of 'Victorian England' to 'Renaissance Style', but I won't let you explore the four corners of the world at your wedding. It's a ceremony, not Around the World in Eighty Days"," Young lord, it is two and thirty in the morning and you called me to say that you want tomatoes with buffalo's mozzarella cheese in the appetizers? C'mon! Have some sense! Did you really think I wouldn't include them on the menu? They were, like, 70% of your plate at your last wedding. Yes, yes. It's gonna be the same chef that will make them. I have a established team.", " Rod, I'm in the middle of a date ... Pff! No, no! I'm kidding! What's with this awkward silence anyway, young lord? Never mind, never mind! What is your new idea? 'Acrobats' ??? No, no, it's perfect! I'll hire them immediately! What? Are you saying something? It seems that I'm hearing you say 'I just realized how ridiculous this idea sounded. Please ignore what I said!' but, nah, can't be it, right? I'm going to call the acrobats right now! Bye!".

I had my knowledge base from his previous marriage to help me, but I have the impression that it would have made little difference if I didn't. In the second one, I could learn a lot more about Rod.

I discovered, for example, that he was unbearably grumpy and slightly similar to a zombie when he didn't drink a cup of black coffee in the morning. It was both comical and dangerous to find him in this mood. I also learned that the compositions he played on the piano were pretty much based on his mental state. On days of good humor, Debussy. On days of irritation, Chopin. In less ordinary days, in which he showed a thoughtful and serious demeanour, looking as if immersed in a very serious and hopeless matter, Erik Satie. It was his way to release the emotional weight that existed behind that perfectly stoic countenance. Some people throw glass cups against the wall... He played Chopin as if the piano had publicly offended him. Another thing that I learned was that he had a bad relationship with his parents. Urgh. The typical drama of adults demanding too much of talented children. Just mentioning them was enough to leave Rod anxious.

Being aware of it, I preferred to avoid talking about his parents' invitations and handled that part alone. I concluded that it didn't matter for Rod if they came or not, but if they did, I just had to put them in a more secluded table and tell the photographer to limit the amount of "family photos".

I learnt that Roderich got sleepy at certain times of the day and that I could interpret the slight variation of his expressions if I searched for little details. I learnt several things before realizing that I was learning too much.

It's normal for a wedding planner to know his customer. The problem is that he should know about preferences of flowers and food, family members to be invited, budget priorities ... not if his client always uses the same shopping list or if the client clenches his hands when nervous or if he shows a light and almost unnoticeable shade of red in his face when he blushes or if it gets lost easily and then blames his lateness on nonexistent traffic jams or if he smiles accidentally and without noticing when he listen to his compositions being played somewhere or if he likes to use strong perfumes or if his ... Ok, I'm done here! I think my point is clear enough!

The situation grow worse and worse until it reached a level in which a red alert began to resonate in my mind.This... this was getting dangerous. Things were running away from my control and escaping the safe zone of professionalism. And my comfort zone was almost continental, I must say.

The strangest and worst of all this? The situation was getting dangerous for me, not for Rod. As if the aristocrat cared about what was going on! That was my problem.

I had no intention of letting everything become gradually more complicated, so I took a noble attitude and immediately tried to limit my interactions with the aristocrat. If I'm not mistaken, my valuable and diplomatic words were... "Young lord, honestly, I think that you should pick up your stuff that is in my house, I should get my stuff that is in your home, and we should meet each other less frequently. Preferably when your scary fiancé is around. Don't you think that this whole situation between us is kinda odd? Well, man, it's super-weird and I want you to go away from me so I can concentrate on your wedding. My advice is that you should do the same. Look, it's not normal, for example, to keep talking to me on the phone, until two in the morning on a freaking Friday but we're doing it constantly. Like, where do you even find time to have sex with Lizzy? Maybe her mood will improve a lot if you sleep together more often, you know. "

My decision was totally wise, right? He should congratulate my sensitivity and bow down at my fair terms! However, as proven by that second request of an ice statue to use in the middle of autumn, Rod wouldn't be Rod if he accepted simple solutions.

The aristocrat squeezed his hands, sighed, looked deep into my eyes and said:

"I have no idea what you mean by this. Please don't use vulgar excuses to avoid doing your work."

Then, to give a dramatic effect, he stood up and slammed the door behind him.

You can't accuse me of not trying.

At one point, Roderich was right: I had to stop letting "vulgar excuses" interfere with my work. No matter how much my relationship with Roderich was strange and causing me to be more and more alert every day, he was about to get married and my main goal should be to prepare a perfect wedding for him. That was my job and if there is something in which I'm especially fantastic, that would be my job. I'm the Beyoncé of wedding organization! Some are close to my level! No one is better than me!

If this was my strong point, that should be my focus. I would give to Roderich a wedding so glorious that he would cry sapphires after seeing such sophistication and this would be the grand finale to our relationship. Any knowledge that I acquired or could acquire about Rod wouldn't alter this future and when I accepted it, it became easier to make plans and and ignore anything other than my tasks while preparing the event

Stick on me all you want, aristocrat. Meanwhile, I will be concentrating on preparing a spectacular wedding for you because, unlike some young lords, I recognize the difference between a work relationship and plain parasitism. I'm not going to think so much about our relationship anymore. Just do whatever you want with it.

As expected, Rod's second ceremony was absolutely stupendous. Sure, Roderich didn't cry tears made of sapphires or give an emotional speech about his endless gratitude for the best wedding planner of all time, but I'm sure it was just out of shyness, not for lack of recognition that I was brilliant.

The party was great! Ha, ha! I know that from what I observed from the guests, since I didn't have the chance to enjoy it myself. I wasn't in a good mood that night. I was tired to the deepest depths of my soul and had a short temper. To make matters worse, as I found myself forced to continue working during the party, I was getting progressively sicker with my own masterpiece.

I looked at the flowers scattered in strategic corners, to the soft tableclothes that I convinced the young master to buy, to the tables full of relatives and friends talking to each other, and I simply couldn't see, on the details of that hall, his future with Lizzy .... Everything I could see there were the episodes of our organization of the event, and it was so, so strange to realize that they were in the process of becoming "memories".

At least, on a positive note, everything was finally resolved.Roderich was fine and I would be fine. Even that young lord, who tried so hard to be less romantic than he actually was, deserved a night like this, by the side of a person who deeply loved him.

I finished my work and it reached the expected level of quality of the incredible wedding planner that I was. Finally I would be able to go for future projects and move on.

Or so I thought until the day Rod came again to my office.

Chapter Text

“Um é pouco, dois é bom e três é demais” = “One is not much, two is enough, three is too much”. It basically means that overdoing or neglecting something isn't good and that balance is the perfect action.

Chapter 03.

As the saying goes, one is not much, two is enough and three … Three is bullshit!

After all that I've done to mark the eternal vows of Roderich's marriage with a wedding party that was also worthy of eternity, he divorced again?! Even worse, he was getting married again?! And hiring me?! For someone who claimed to be so artistically sensitive, he surely knew how to be pretty damn insensitive at certain times!

"Rod, are you practicing a sinister ritual of dark magic that requires a wedding every two years and my presence in all of them?" I inquired, not as lighthearted as my speech suggested. Just looking at me you could tell how my mood really was at that moment. My face had a serious look, my legs rested on top of the table in my office, and my arms were crossed behind my head, in a posture that expressed how little I cared for good manners in front of that aristocrat.

These signals pointed to the obvious fact that I was sick of Roderich.

"I'm going to take your rude joke as a welcome message," he replied without missing a beat, not showing any hassle, second thoughts or empathy about my feelings, while approaching to sit in front of my desk, as if doing the most predictable movement in the world. "Hello, Gilbert."

So it was just like that?! He thought he could just go sitting around and getting down to business?! He couldn't even bother to give me a brief explanation about what was going on?!

"Wait a second! Don't go sitting like this!" I extended my arm and reached out to stop him, quickly correcting my position on the chair. "Listen here, I still have my personal issues with …!"

"You have personal issues? That much is obvious." He snorted and that made my impatience reach its boiling point.

"Ha, ha! Very funny, young lord!" A forced and aggressive laugh came out of my mouth. "You know what else is funny? Your presence in my office again!" I banged my fist against the table, too freaking fed up with Rod's bullshit to deal with his aristocratic sarcasm. I stared hard at him. As if our gazes could collide. "For the third time in less than six years! Do you realize how much I invested in your ceremony?! I can't believe you wasted it like that!"

"To my knowledge, I married Miss Elizaveta, not the ceremony itself!" he stated firmly.

For a brief second, anger took over my head and I simply started screaming without having the slightest idea of what I was about to say:

"Yes, BUT I…!"

'I' what? In the end, what was my reason to be that angry with Rod? Despite how tiresome my old efforts to organize his previous marriages were, I couldn't find a reason good enough to justify that fury of mine. At most, a bitterness or a bothersome feeling of displeasure. Not that hot and volatile anger that I had to forcefully contain.

"Bah! Never mind!" I yielded grudgingly, throwing one of my hands over my shoulders. "Can I at least get some decent explanation?"

“Hmpf. Behave well and I shall do the same.”

“In this case, we're both screwed.” I grunted, putting a hand over my eyes and breathing deeply. “Look, Rod, I don't get it. Why did you break up with Lizzy? I mean, that girl treated you like some kind of idol!”

To be fair, unlike his first divorce, this time he had at least the decency to pause a little to think about his (still kinda unexpected) answer.

"I came to the conclusion that being idolized by someone is not comfortable or beneficial to either side," was his explanation, and he kept one hand on his chin and eyes directed to the ceiling while saying them, as if puzzled by this discovery.

At the moment he finished speaking, I slowly lowered my head. Absorbed in dark and heavy thoughts that were almost sinking it into the table.

Roderich Eldestein… He had changed in some aspects and remained exactly the same in others. The aristocrat was still in his extremely strict search for the ideal partner and, to make things worse, his demands were becoming more and more rigorous over time.

I was honestly scared of the path that he was following. Just how many marriages would he make me organize? How many times would I have to be in that exhausting process? More importantly, why did I even care to step on the stage when I knew so well the end of the plot? It's not like I was forced to accept Roderich's request and I considered refusing this one.

"Right…" I muttered, staring at the murky reflection of him in my perfectly polished wood table. "So… Who is your partner now?"

"He is an old childhood friend that I met again by chance last year. His name is Vash."

"Last year? Wow, you guys didn't waste any time, huh?" I laughed dryly, raising an eyebrow. "What's the deal for you, Rod?"

"We're very similar and I believe that our similar natures will produce a harmonious coexistence."

"Once again, you're not in love with the person you will marry." I sighed, keeping my eyes in the reflection, and I felt a tired smile forming on my face. As predicted, here we were. Back to that awful loop of events.

"I assume that this unnecessary statement of a simple fact had some sort of critical purpose?" he asked in a clear, carefully neutral voice.

It had? I couldn't say for sure. Certainly, there was a sour feeling in it, like I was swirling a liquid mixture of resentment and bitterness in my mouth to spit it out. However, I could attribute that to the waste of my hard work, thanks to the repetitive divorces of the young lord, and that's what I did.

To put it simply, I said what I had to:

"Nope. Your relationships are none of my business. No-pun intended."

"Oh."

Curious about the meaning of this “Oh.” I lifted my eyes for a moment and I caught the young lord's shoulders shrugging and a sudden and indecipherable flash running through his eyes as he focused on the floor. Noticing that, my first reflex was to check his hands.... something that couldn't be verified because they were hidden in the pockets of his coat.

Having this visual information as my only clue, my natural conclusion was that he was probably showing relief about how nonchalant I was over his personal life.

Though it was kinda weird to see such a weak and strange reaction of relief, I accepted this explanation to his behaviour, remembering the old Conan Doyle's words that "once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth".

"How much time do you have before the date of the ceremony?" I asked, tapping my fingers on the table surface and once more I watched the reflection on it absently. "Depending on your answer, I can give you the contact information for some of my friends in this line of work that aren't very busy in the next few months and…”

"Does that mean you're not going to work for me?" His eyebrows went up and his eyes subtly become more open, expressing bewilderment.

Oh, young lord.

"I already planned two of your weddings, Roderich," I replied frankly, supporting my elbows on the table and hanging my head down, almost touching the wood. "Maybe you should find someone else."

"If I wanted someone else, why would I be here?" he asked impatiently.

That was the ten million dollar question. Why did Roderich come to me? Who could know? Maybe not even Rod himself.

"I have no idea, aristocrat, so if you can tell me, that would be great," I confessed with an exhausted groan, raising my eyes toward him but keeping my head low.

"The answer is simple, you fool." He took a deep breath and closed his eyelids. Anxiety marks were appearing on his forehead, creating the impression that he was about to reveal was anything but simple. Not for him. "While it's true that my previous marriages didn't make me happy…" he needed another pause for breath. I felt my own breathing changing its rhythm with all that suspense, "… I always truly enjoyed my wedding receptions."

What?

What? What? What?

"Did I accidentally touch a bouquet of poisonous flowers and now I'm in the middle of a hallucination or did you really just give me a compliment?" I asked incredulously, dodging backward like a cartoon character finally realizing the disguise of an archenemy. 'Who are you and what have you done with Roderich?!' could be my cliché line if we were in this type of scenario.

Allow me to explain: the aristocrat NEVER praised me directly, because his notion of a compliment was a not-critical comment. Something like "This coffee is acceptable," meant "This is the best coffee I've tried in my life. My taste buds are having a celestial joy and never will experience a glorious moment like this again." and "Your job wasn't bad," meant "You did such a fantastic job that I will hire you to plan my next ten-thousand weddings".

"Occasionally, you deserve them," he admitted unwillingly, trying to avert his eyes. "Although I prefer not to feed that colossal ego of yours.

Pling! As incomprehensible as it may seem, these few lines spoken by young lord managed to dramatically reverse my mood. At the speed of atoms in a particle accelerator, I changed from my state of bitterness and resentment to a glorious and slightly sadistic sense of victory. Ohhh... So the aristocrat admitted that I was formidable and that he needed to restrain himself from praising me every second? It was nice to have confirmation of this obvious fact!

"Don't worry, young lord." I laughed with contempt, putting my hands up again. "There's no need to feed something that practically does photosynthesis!"

"Gilbert, I want to prepare this wedding with you," he pressed again.

Urgh. We had to go back to that discussion?

"Rod, I've spent a lot of energy on your last wedding and I have othe…"

I had another project in mind. A wedding between a Berwarld and Tino, that had the potential to be a job quite relaxed and cool, because they liked dogs, saunas and punk music. You can't go wrong in choosing the company of people with tastes like these.

Giving up this project to organize another wedding for Rod would be the most ridiculous decision ever. "New and relaxing event with humorous and quiet people" versus "A repetition of troublesome past events during the organization of a monumental and complicated marriage to a client that will be on your back for the next few months.". The choice was easy.

In fact, I would have given my answer to Roderich immediately if he had not interrupted me to launch the most killer bomb on top of me:

"I need you," he confessed quietly with a sincerity so poignant and filled with vulnerability, that it was hard to watch it on his face directly, as it's hard to look directly at the sun.

I took a deep breath, remembering every moment and every reason that justified my refusal. I had to persist. I had to persist. That project wasn't worth it. I was sure that it wasn't worth it. C'mon! One would have to be a complete idiot to agree to submit to that again and ...!

"Even though it's terribly humiliating to admit it, that's the truth," he added, staring at the floor and scrunching his features in a completely failed attempt to disguise the blush spread across his face.

Yes, he was completely red. Roderich Eldestein. Red. A rarer occurrence than the passage of Halley's Comet.

Fuck my life.

Chapter Text

Chapter 04.

Six months and two weeks later, the chef of my team was still stunned at my decision to accept the job. He was not the first in line. Everyone in my team was stunned. My family was stunned. Some of my suppliers were stunned. I must admit: I was also shocked, though a considerable portion of my astonishment was due to the number of people with the same feelings about my involvement in that project rather than to my new contract itself.

Different manifestations of piety and confusion - that were totally unnecessary! - came from all possible sources and were all equally annoying. Why did everyone care so much about with whom I worked or not? I doubt anyone says "You don't need to force yourself to do this..." when Tim Burton decides to have another partnership with Johnny Depp.

The usual was that I merely dismissed or despised other people's concerns on that topic. That was how I was predisposed to act in my meeting with Francis via computer to have a casual talk about our personal lives. Still, he had such a worried expression when we started talking on Skype that night, that I almost felt some of his pity for me:

"You're clearly tired, Gilbert," he said and there was no doubt in his words.

Well, denying it wouldn't make me any good. The Phantom of the Opera didn't hide underground over nothing. Sometimes, it's impossible to make people ignore what is all over your face.

"I'm beaten," I confessed, laying my head on the table and noticing my eyes closing against my will.

I was so exhausted at the time. That day. That year.

"Good Lord! For you of all people to recognize it, the case must be serious!" he exclaimed in a high-pitched voice so alarmed that it was almost theatrical.

"More serious than the delivery schedule of our suppliers," I confirmed with a grunt, not able to lift my head or keep both of my eyelids open at the same time. "I'm completely screwed, Francis."

"If you want to tire yourself less, you always have the option to reduce the time that Roderich spends with you," the image on my computer screen suggested, and the false innocence in that speech was transmitted as clearly as the light of my monitor.

"Ha. A wedding planner complaining about the time that he's spending with a client? Isn't it usually the opposite?" I raised an eyebrow. If he wanted false innocence, false innocence he would get.

"Come on, Gilbert, we both know that his constant visits are not exactly related to your work," he pointed out in a half severe and half worried way that reminded me of my mother. Lately, more often than they should, people around me were tending to do so. "Remember the last time? He came to bring you an internet article about the proper colors of the bridesmaids' dresses but stayed in your office for two and a half hours, talking about his last world tour? He invited you to go to a restaurant to show a dish that he wanted in his buffet and you ended up only returning at night? He called you over the phone and started a ...?"

"I know, I know! He makes excuses to chat with me." I rolled my eyes, impatient, lowering the corners of the mouth. "Of course, I know that. Don't underestimate a high intelligence like mine."

"You are aware of it and yet, you keep accepting his requests," he pronounced each word slowly.

"So what?" I snorted, tilting my nose up. "Technically, he always has professional reasons to contact me. If I tried to escape, he surely would come with that old talk of "Oh! You are so unprofessional despite being so obviously awesome ~". No way. Enduring Rod's constant company is better than enduring his cheap excuses."

"At least you're going to charge him for the extra hours, right, Gilbert?"

Silence.

"Gilbert!"

"What?!" At that time, I was caught up on a wave of anger that gave me the strength to raise my body and open my arms as aggressively as a fighting rooster. Even though I was too exhausted to be arguing, above that, I was fed up with so much advice about my relationship with Roderich, so I was able to extract energy from my accumulated anger to respond to Francis's shocked exclamation. "I can't charge the young lord for wanting to spend more time with me! I'm not a chaperone, Bonnefoy! I can't demand an additional payment for talking with him about personal stuff!"

"Then you meet him every day because it's work, but will not charge him for the time you spend together because that doesn't count as work, huh?" he pointed to my contradiction with narrowed eyes.

If his intention was to confront me with that, he should seriously consider using other weapons. Ha! I knew that contradiction better than anyone. It was my daily companion, after all.

"'Told you that I was screwed," I repeated in a low and heavy voice.

"You should have listened to me when I advised you to not accept the new job." He sighed, closing his eyes with an very annoying air of I-told-you-so. "Remember the three months following his second marriage and how you were after....?"

I exploded again.

"Goddamnit, Francis! He is a client! A client who is practically the personification of money! If he wants to have ten thousand weddings and wants to hire me in all of them, then it's better for us, isn't it?! Besides ...!" My next words would come with fury if they had not been caught in my throat. I took a deep breath, lowering the temperature of my emotions gradually. When I got back to my arguments, they no longer contained the same aggressive intensity as before but a heavy, thick honesty. "Besides..." I added in a soft voice, resting my eyes on the keyboard. "I can't refuse him."

"How come?"

"I just can't," I groaned plaintively, sinking my face on my hands.

"Oh, Gilbert."

Oh, no. I wouldn't stand that look of pity.

"For fuck's sake, Francis. Give me a break from these questions," I grumbled, putting a hand over my eyes, feeling that even the monitor light was too violent for me. "Are you his fiancé's private detective or something?"

"Gilbert, Gilbert ... Didn't it occur to you that maybe you're in a very delicate position to be working in this particular wedding?"

"Of course not," I assured him with confidence, changing entirely my physical and mental posture. "I'm a professional, Francis. A great professional and one of the best in this industry. This wedding is going to be a epic and unforgettable event. My only fear is making the coming Olympics look disappointing in comparison to the level of perfection of my work!"

"I don't doubt your ability to create a glorious wedding, my dear friend. In fact, my fears relate to what will follow it." He gave me a glance full of implications.

"I guess that's a matter for the future." I crossed my arms and shrugged. "It's too late for a change of plans anyway. There's less than two weeks to his wedding and preparations are almost completed. Even if I intended to, it wouldn't be possible to drop this project now. I'm even meeting tomorrow with the grooms at some aristocratic restaurant to celebrate the end of the main preparations. The end is near," I concluded, finally releasing through my mouth a breath that I was unconsciously holding and accidentally giving an apocalyptic tone to my last sentence.

"You, Roderich and Vash sharing a table? Hm ... I don't know if I should encourage you to not go or if I should hide in a good location to watch better the show. "

"Shut up, Francis." I couldn't resist laughing at this and playing along. "Take care of your part of the job and provide the best banquet ever. Cook like I'm paying triple your salary."

"If you persist in being so stubborn, I'm not going to be the one to dissuade you. Still, since I want you to go to sleep early, I plan to finish our conversation here. Usually, I don't trust much in the effectiveness of a beauty sleep, but it's sadly obvious that you need one. I meant no offense, of course. Good night, Gilbert." He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Take care, dear friend."

"Good night, Francis. Dude, you have the worst ways of saying goodbye ever!" I smiled and then closed my laptop.

“Take care". What unnecessary advice.

Since Rod's first wedding, I had gotten used to being careful all the time.

Chapter Text

A little explanation about something that will appear in this chapter: I know that mint is a super-common flavour around the USA and it seems that Europe also has a lot of stuff with mint but in my country, that's not a popular flavour at all so it's hard to find foods with a minty taste and sometimes it's hard to buy it even when they exist, because the store never has it. That said, I originally made this fic to brazilians such as myself and that's why a certain comparison is made in some point. I didn't change it because I thought it wasn't really necessary to do so, since I could explain the whole thing here. The more you know. 

Chapter 05.

As expected, the restaurant where Rod took us, on the next night, fit up every cliché of high-class restaurants. The place was a sophisticated and quiet environment, full of people dressed formally and observing each other with mutual criticism. They served portions so small that you could only taste the promise of the flavor before finishing it.

Also, as Roderich should have expected, there was no desire on my part to commit me to match this sumptuous atmosphere.

"Was it too much to hope that you would dress properly for the occasion, Gilbert?"

I was wearing a grey hoodie, jeans and sneakers. Let's face it. It was more than enough for me to be more attractive than anyone around there.

"Come on, young lord! You know, I have to deal with etiquette everyday in my line of work," I protested reasonably. Heck, I had to wear suits every day. I deserved a break, right? Was it my fault if the young lord had bizarre notions of what would be a relaxing hangout place? "This is a celebration! Not to mention that I don't need all this formal stuff to be stunning," I added with a ear-to-ear smile.

"That's not about being stunning, but rather appropriate," he snapped and his lilac eyes were cold and firm.

"Come on, Rod." I rolled my eyes. I had no disposition to handle those complaints in a more chivalrous or professional way. "Why do you insist on these formal events? For once, why can't we go to a place like, I dunno, a disco that plays the songs of the eighties and drink some cuba libre while dancing to the hits of 'Flashdance'?"

"It's scary the amount of detail that you put into that terrifying hypothetical scenario," he said icily. "Moreover, I believe that the word 'disco' has fallen into disuse."

Oh, dear. The young lord was updating my slang??? That was priceless!

"Pfff! Thank you, Mr. Modernity!" I was filled with such a intense urge to laugh that I had to cover my mouth to contain it or, at least, to make it not sound as loud as it would be if I simply released it. "Good to know that I can count on you to know all the new trends!"

"As always, your sense of humor is absolutely…!"

If he would say "great" or "super-hyper-mega-great", I don't know. His boyfriend got in the middle first, interrupting us by hitting on his glass with his soup spoon.

"Don't let a mere detail disturb you, Roderich," he complained. "We spent too much on this dinner to waste it with childish fights."

That was Vash, an individual who had his share of aspects in common with Roderich and took the position of his groom because of that. He was as stingy with money as Rod, as serious as Rod, and as bad at dealing with romance as Rod. I'll admit it, they were, indeed, kind of similar. Although their personality traits didn't make them symmetrical.

The young lord was like a mint ice cream covered with a layer of chocolate. Beyond the surface, there was a soft side on him. That side wasn't very sweet or common, though it could be tasty for some palates. Vash, on the other hand, was more like a crunchy ice cream. His hard and soft parts were practically inseparable and people chose him more for his consistency than for his flavour.

Anyway, a groom is a groom and this role makes him deserve more attention than a wedding planner. Thus, after the reprimand that Rod received from him, the two of them began a one-sided conversation, that can be basically described as an monologue-of-Vash-with-head-nods-of-Rod about the firearms that Mr. Zwingli collected, and, meanwhile, I was completely left out. 'Course, I didn't mind that and, determined to not care about the treatment that they were giving me, I distracted myself with my phone.

My position there was as a wedding planner and I was being treated as a wedding planner.There was nothing surprising about it. Since I didn't want to join the tedious conversation to which I wasn't invited, I used the wifi restaurant to exchange messages with Lud.

I liked to check in on my brother from time to time. We were very, very close! He had to marry to escape my protective wings(under my protest!)! I also really liked Feli, his wife and, if it were up to me, the three of us would totally live together! However, with a baby on the way, they needed their own space and I respected that.

My message exchange with Lud turned out to be a very effective way to pass the time. I was having a good laugh at the domestic stories that he was sharing about his marriage and about Feliciana's pregnancy and gladly getting into my innocent distraction, hardly imagining the storm I was about to face…

"Who is this person that you're talking to?" Roderich asked, his question as abrupt and sharp as the stroke of a blade.

When I raised my eyes from my mobile screen, it shocked me how open and palpable was his dissatisfaction. He was staring at me as if I had insulted him in the most disgusting way.

Man, I was lost. Why on earth did my exchange of messages with someone bother Rod that much?

"My little brother?" I replied hesitantly, not having a clue about what the hell he was expecting to hear as an answer. The lines of my face were contracted in total confusion, because, seriously, what was going on with the aristocrat?

Inexplicably, though not entirely satisfied with that response, it managed to please him on some level.

"Hmph. It's very rude to exchange messages with another person when you have company," he murmured, showing traces of offense in his solemn expression.

HUH?! Wait, wait! Is this for real?!

He was complaining because I got distracted with another person while I was being ignored??? What the heck did he want from me??? That I keep a respectful and appreciative silence while watching their conversation? No fucking way.

That criticism was so unnecessary and unfair that even Vash was mortified.

"He wasn't really making part of the conversation, Roderich," he tried to appease him in the same hesitant and confused tone as mine.

"Sorry then, Rod!" I exclaimed, opening my arms in exasperation, ready to defend myself on my own. "I just didn't want to interrupt your romantic-lovey-dovey-couple moment of talking about the weapons invented in the French Revolution!"

Twice, Rod opened his mouth as if he was willing to say something in response but he still closed it without letting a sound out either time. It was obvious that he wasn't able to find a reasonable explanation for his actions. Ha! I thought so!

He may not have had any arguments and I didn't have a full understanding of his motives, yet we didn't need those things or verbal expressions to hold a discussion, since we were so familiar with each other. Through visual communication, we had a silent conversation that basically consisted of a "What the hell, Rod?!" and "I don't want to talk about it but I'm upset with you." complemented by a "Why?!" mine and  "I'll pretend you don't exist and that nothing happened, because I'm a BIG COWARD IDIOT THAT GETS ANNOYED FOR NO REASON." his.

"Okay, enough of that. I will try to give the right direction to this evening," the voice of Vash surprised us in the middle of our conversation and its solemnity implied that he was about to make a looong speech.

Oh, great! Now that! As if my good will hadn't been tested enough. Just fuck me already.

I wasn't optimistic about what would be the “right direction” because it was no secret that Vash didn't like me. The right direction, huh? Would that be banishing me from the table? Finishing the dinner? I didn't even care anymore.

"Mr. Beilschmidt when Roderich informed me that you would be our wedding planner, I was completely against it." Yep, he didn't put any vanilla in his words. "Pardon my frankness. I thought that our wedding planner would be a mature woman, which is not remotely compatible with your profile. Besides, you were responsible for his two marriages that ended in divorce. This just doesn't seem right to me."

I couldn't have been more pleased with his choice of attack.

"Huh?" I smirked and extended one of my hands in a mocking, condescending gesture. "Wasn't that a great thing for you, considering that you are only able to marry Rod because his two marriages ended up in divorces?"

To my immense delight, he opened his eyes and blushed, as I figured he would.

Vash, Vash, Vash. So many weapons in your collection and not a single one in your tongue.

"Yes, but …! Well …!" He coughed and tried to regain his confidence on what he had to say, adopting a more determined look. Heh, classic response! "Anyway, I still don't understand why Roderich wanted to hire you, when you have the worst habits and petulance that I ever encountered in an employee. Certainly, it wasn't for personal reasons, given that, clearly, you don't get along."

In the second he finished his sentence, my eyes and Roderich's met as if they had agreed to do so. We both had the same question and got the same confirmation. “Don't get along” was a vague and relatively unfair description for our relationship. Deep inside, we both had knowledge of it, though it wasn't something expressed aloud.

"Mr. Beilschmidt?"

I blinked, coming out of my trance and suddenly realizing that I was talking to Vash just a second ago.

"Yeah, yeah. I get the message." I corrected my posture, returning to the original main discussion. "You hate me even though I have this irrefutable talent and charisma. Your superego must be working hard for that, by the way," I dumped casually and carefree. Honestly, he could think whatever he wanted and that wouldn't bother me. He loved and respected Roderich and that was all that mattered to me. I wasn't the one who was engaged to Vash. Thank goodness. I raised a wine glass. "A toast to the fact that you hate me but can't be without me?"

"No, listen!" he interrupted me and the red colour of his neck jumped to a much brighter shade in a second. "I … Urgh! It's hard to admit it, but I promised myself I would tell you that …! I … I …!"

"Sorry, Rod, but I think your boyfriend is about to confess to me," I whispered to Roderich, giving a playful nudge in his right hip and getting a weak slap on my arm in response.

"Shut your mouth! Do not make me already regret what I'm about to say!" Vash told me and he had to breathe quickly to finally announce with difficulty, "I … I admit that hiring you, Mr. Beilschmidt, was a good decision."

"Oh?"

"Y-you .... You've done an impressive job." He put a hand over his mouth, noticeably trying to hide his embarrassment. "I think that our wedding is going to be the most beautiful that I've seen."

Ah! Listening to that speech was wonderful in so many ways. First, due to the sensation of pure joy provided by my victory, since I had made a guy who disapproved of me fairly openly, admit that my work was more spectacular than the creation of the universe (or something along those lines). Also due to the pleasant feeling of being recognized because, dear Lord, how I invested time and effort in the preparations for that wedding. But if I have to be honest, my strongest emotion, which overcame the others, was a sincere happiness and affection for the two idiots who were dining with me. It was gratifying to know for sure that they were about to experience their dream wedding. I can't say that I also didn't feel some weight in my chest … Like a nostalgia for something that wasn't even finished yet, I don't know. Still, I was used to that feeling and I easily diluted it in my other emotions.

My way of expressing this varied set of emotions was putting the palms of my hands on the top of their heads, ruffling their hair and ignoring the grumbling that followed my gesture. Like I'd stop ever picking on those silly grumps!

I was laughing at their annoyance and widely appreciating that lighter and cheerful moment until our main dish, chosen by Vash, reached our table, causing a drastic change in the atmosphere and making my eyes and Roderich's simultaneously widen.

Chapter Text

Chapter 06.

The main dish was a medium-sized fish. Even worse, it was one of those dishes in which the fish was served complete with its head, tail and all the rest.

At the very moment that I realized that, a protective instinct came with full force on me.

"Fuck! What the fuck is this?! What the fuck this is doing here?!" I tried to pull the fish away from the table. "Waiter, can you take this dish away from here?!"

"What do you think you're doing?!" Vash started screaming.

"What are you doing?!" I yelled back at a higher volume. "Rod is scared of fishes!"

Yep. Roderich had a instinctive fear of fish. When I planned his first marriage, I found his refusal to look at the choices of fish for dinner quite odd and I ended up getting an explanation about it in the second one.

Dead or alive, fish made him sick to his stomach. He couldn't avoid it. His heartbeats increased and felt like he was about to throw up every single time he saw one. For him, fish were as repulsive as frogs and spiders are for some people. Don't explain or question phobias, guys. Just help the people who have it to avoid what scares them. Period. Fuck all that talk of "You must confront your fears." There's no need to force a person to have a terrible experience because of the impatience and incomprehension of certain assholes.

To my deep irritation, Vash's reaction was a rather snobbish one.

"That was the stupidest story I've heard in years." He snorted.

This was the first time in the entire history of Roderich's wedding organization in which I felt like punching Vash in the face.

"I'm being serious here!" I insisted. "Looking at their eyes distresses him and...!"

"He's kidding, right?" He turned to the aristocrat, believing that whole scene was an weird joke or something. "Roderich, you can't really have this ridiculous fear. It's just a fish…"

"NO WAY! Really??" I widened my eyes in mocking amazement, as if he had made the revelation of the century, carrying my voice with raw and corrosive cynicism. "'A fish is just a fish'… Wow!" I opened my arms widely. At that time, my irritation was clearly exposed. "Now, Roderich's phobia has entirely vanished! If only someone had told him that before!"

"I don't like your sarcastic attitude, Mr. Beilschmidt," he complained, frowning at me.

"Well, I don't like to see a person being mocked for their fear, jerk." I returned the same expression to him. "Roderich is your fiancé. If anything, you should be the first to defend him."

After that last comment, there was a moment of silence between us, in which our eyes remained fighting. Fixed on each other in an intense and electric confrontation. As a matter of honor, I decided that I wouldn't be the first to divert mine for anything in the world!

… Or so I intended, but "this" happened.

"Gilbert, please…" The young lord grabbed the sleeve of my sweatshirt.

Just like that, my aggressive stance was instantly dismantled by his weak and reluctant voice.

Urgh. What the hell was wrong with me? There I was, wasting my energy yelling at his groom while Rod was anxious and nervous. Great help.

"What?" I asked, turning my body and all my attention to his side.

"Please, forget it," he asked, covering his extremely pale face with one hand. I hated to see him like this. "Can we order another dish and pretend nothing happened?"

"As you wish, young lord," I agreed immediately. "Hey. Do you know if they serve goose here?"

For some probably ridiculous reason, Vash gave me a "Ha!" caustic and ironic and then he asked:

"Judging by your attitude, I must conclude that your selfless act conferred you the right to choose the main dish?"

What.

For real? No, really? I was in the real world??? This was really happening?

"No, I just remembered that his favorite meat is goose! That's why I asked if they have it here!" I exclaimed with raised eyebrows and a mortified tone.

What was the problem with these people?! They thought that my every move was a personal affront? Come on!

Vash must have realized how ridiculous he sounded, because he began to feel a little embarrassed, after my answer.

"Oh! Hm …" He covered his mouth with one hand and forced a dry cough. "I suppose it's your obligation to know this, since you organized so many menus for his weddings."

"Yep, I'm a fantastic wedding planner like that." I decided to not say anything further about that remark. "Can you ask for the goose and a chocolate dessert before it?"

"Chocolate dessert?"

"He calms down more easily when eating chocolate. Memorize it, Mr. Guillotine. This is one of the fundamental rules in the survival manual 'Living with an aristocrat.'."

“No wonder my apartment is as stuffed with chocolates as the Easter Bunny's house,” I would have mentioned if I didn't have my formidable social skills.

"Enough with the exaggeration," Vash insisted with his absurd skepticism. "He doesn't even seem nervous."

"You're kidding, right?" I furrowed my eyebrows. In this round, I was the incredulous one. "Look at his face!"

Then, there was a silent pause of a few seconds in which we observed Roderich as two scientists dividing a microscope to track the movements of a cell. The young lord was pale with clenched fists, eyes lower than usual and a slightly trembling lower lip… All these were glaring signs that he wasn't fine and I really hated to see him like that. His helpless and somewhat pathetic appearance filled me with the need to put an arm around his shoulders to support him and it took a huge effort for me to contain myself from doing this.

"What about his face? He appears to be in the same mood as usual," Vash concluded with a shrug.

I realized that there was no way for us to have discussion on that subject. It would be like arguing about the M theory with a kid learning multiplication tables.

"Urgh!! Never mind, forget it! We don't have time to give you a class on body language." I groaned in frustration, shaking my head fiercely. Apparently, I couldn't count on Roderich's groom to help, so I had to take the control of the situation by myself. "Rod, how are you? Do you want your dessert now?" I asked, changing in 180 degrees my attitude from one person to another.

"I … wouldn't refuse a dessert." He replied, biting the inside of the cheek, like a proud child being forced to apologize.

I felt a stupid grin growing in the corners of my mouth. Oh, Rod. That aristocrat could be so silly with his defensive manners.

"Well done, good boy." I gave light patting the top of his head, looking at the young lord with a warm tenderness that I couldn't avoid in that context. "Is there anything else that we can get you?"

"Actually, there was a wine that I've been wanting to try…" he replied, frowning in discomfort, still not entirely recovered from that awful experience but trying to.

"Indeed." Vash suddenly remembered. "You mentioned it in the car."

"Oh, do you mean that sixty-year-old Spanish wine?" I remembered too. "I remember its name but I don't know how to pronounce it. Can you get me a paper?

"Er… It was a white wine?" Vash asked Roderich, as if I wasn't even there.

Geez, I had just said that I knew the wine. He wanted to turn that into a dispute?

"Bzzz! Wrong. It's a red wine." I corrected with way less humor, writing the name of the wine on a napkin.

"Recently, I noticed that you always ask for wine when we go to restaurants." I was ignored once more. "Is this your favorite drink?"

"Bzzz! His favorite drink is hot coffee mixed with chocolate." I corrected again, while showing the napkin to the waiter and taking advantage of his proximity to indicate the dishes that we selected on the menu. "He also has a secret and unexpected fondness for strawberry milky… Don't even ask. He will never admit it."

Finally, Vash acknowledged my presence. The annoying thing is that he did it in a totally unnecessary offended way.

"Thank you for your contributions, Mr. Beilschmidt," he said severely, in what was the most ungrateful thanks I have received over the years. "The next time that we need your opinion, we will make it clear," he finished, harsh and direct.

That should have been my cue to let them have a "couple moment", which was my goal at the beginning of dinner. As I said, I had initial intended to act with magnanimous dignity and not demand more attention than I should receive given my professional position. I was cool with that. However, I didn't like to be blatantly kicked out of the conversation and I decided that retaliation was necessary. Ah, so it was like that? That stupid couple would get what they deserved. I would turn the V of Vash into a V of Vendetta!

Ha, ha! I had some means to cause discomfort at the table and I would use them without restraint!

Vash wanted me to stay out of the conversation and Roderich wanted me to pay attention to it. Even though that didn't mean that he was inviting me to join them.

Okay, okay. If that's what they wished.

For the next several minutes, I didn't actively participate in their conversation. I was silent, eating my dinner and making my dish the center of my visual field. Meanwhile, the wine, a piece of chocolate dessert and three plates of goose arrived at our table.

I just made some occasional small interventions in their dialogue.

"One of these days, I met a relative of yours at the supermarket," Vash said, starting a dialogue about personal topics. "What is the name of that cousin of yours who has a twin sister with a louder personality?

"Madeleine." I answered, concentrating on chewing my goose with more force than was necessary.

"… Speaking of relatives, I was saying to Lily that we were very fortunate to get all the bridesmaids to wear dresses of your favorite color. Violet, right?"

"Indigo," I corrected.

There were about four scenes like those before Vash decided it was time to cut me off again.

"You certainly learned a lot about Roderich while you were offering your services." he said sarcastically. "What exactly does a wedding planner need to know about his customer? His favorite music? Zodiac sign? Blood type? Favorite season? Most watched musical?"

I could have retorted that with a teasing remark or a with a proud mention of my great memory. Instead, what came out of my mouth was:

"The Rachmaninov's second piano concerto. Scorpio. AB positive. Autumn. Phantom of the Opera."

And for some reason, the sincere and unadorned response was far more compelling than any provocation that I could think of.

When I shut my mouth, I noticed the deep and grave silence that followed my speech.

Shit.

I had stepped over the line. In metaphorical terms, I'm not talking about a clumsy slip that leads us to accidentally go a few inches over the line. I'm talking about a Formula One driver crossing the line in a race car without brakes.

Damn. Damn. All because I forgot, for a moment, my motto for the evening. Implications and teasing aside, I was Roderich's wedding planer. The wedding planner! A hired professional.

When a wedding planner enters a competition of who has more knowledge about a groom with his partner, it's natural to conclude that there is something wrong there. Especially if this wedding planner wins the freaking competition.

It was very likely that I had sent an inappropriate message and I didn't know which one of us was in the worst situation. It wasn't Rod's fault if I had memorized an encyclopedia of information about him and I didn't act properly when I exposed my knowledge to his groom, as if challenging him. My words could have led to a great misunderstanding. We all had different reasons to be concerned about what had happened.

Still, my major and immediate concern was Rod.

When I raised my eyes, the young lord was staring fixedly at the table.

Fixedly. As if concentrating to see through it. There was such a vivid determination in the direction of his gaze… It was almost like he was watching the only object in the world. Maybe he wished that was the only object in the world. I wouldn't doubt. There was something strange with Rod.

A peculiar and anxious glow around his dilated pupils. A slight tremor running through the extension of his body. I can guarantee you one thing… In those six years, I had noticed and memorized dozens of variations in the expressions of the young lord, but I had never seen that one.

I had no idea what was going on in his mind and that scared me. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good. His breathing was fast and his shoulders were tense. Not to mention that he was dodging my eyes insistently. I tried and failed so many times to communicate silently with him, that I was about to put my hand on his chin and turn his face to me in a critical attempt to understand what he was storing into his eyes.

I was terrified because, let's be honest, I've had many fights with the Rod, but never a serious fight! Was this his angry face when he was truly angry? How upset he was? How screwed was I? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

"Hey, Rod." I tried to call his attention, grabbing his arm. To my shock, he practically jumped out of his chair when I touched him. I can't deny that it felt like a slap on the face to see how quickly he pulled away from me. I have no idea if I could disguise the flash of pain and confusion that hit me.

Well, it would have made little difference if I had disguised it. Even when he was up, Roderich continued to avoid me and he was facing the other way.

"I'm going to the toilet now," he announced rushed with a contained restlessness in his appearance that was very distressing to me. "Excuse me.

So Vash and I were abandoned at that table, like two lonely men shipwrecked on a lifeboat.

We stood there, fidgeting with our cutlery in discomfort and silence, wondering what to say at a time like this.

Urgh… Actually, there was something to say. It was hard to admit it, but I couldn't deny that I was to blame for the disaster at that dinner. I had my revenge and I was not happy with the consequences of it. I needed to fix the situation.

"Listen, Vash." I turned to his side and, for the first in months of service, I actually cared to show my seriousness and professionalism to that guy. "You made a tough admission and I'm too noble to not repay you, so I'll confess …" I inhaled and exhaled, inhaled and exhaled. That was so uncomfortable. Urgh … "I-I was angry about being the one left out of whatever you guys were talking about but I don't want you to think I'm trying to offend you or suggest stupid things. That said, my infallible memory is one of my many qualities," I argued, seeking to reduce the damage I had caused. "So I memorized information about Rod, as I would memorize about any of my clients. It's my job, you know. For a wedding planner, this is not an achievement or a big surprise. We invest a lot of time in trying to create a wedding based on the groom or bride's tastes, so we always end up knowing a little more about them than necessary. Let alone Roderich's particular case, in which I had to please him three times! Really there was nothing much in what I said. I was just trying to tease you."

There, I had done my part and as soon as I finished my explanation, I began to wait for Vash's attack. He was an expert in being skeptical and a professional in the art of being offended. Yet, compared to the reaction I was expecting, his expression was remarkably serene. He didn't come at me with accusations and interrogations. Instead, he remained in a soft reflective silence and pondered well his choice of words.

"I understand. I'm not mad at you." He took a deep breath, with eyes closed. If his new expression was not the epitome of joy and friendliness, at least, it was much less defensive and hostile than I was used to. "I complained of your petulance when I could receive a similar accusation. Realizing that I know so little of the person I'm about to marry… It's scary."

Suddenly, my chest filled with empathy for the person in front of me.

"Nah, you will do a good job." I smiled softly, looking at the bottom of my plate. "The young lord isn't easy to decipher. I was hired three times to fulfill his wishes and I still could create a whole wikipedia with my doubts." I laughed briefly, shaking my head. "You met again recently and it's only natural that you have to learn many new details about him. Don't worry. If you preserve your curiosity and fascination, I'm sure you will understand him little by little."

Vash had his faults. He was awkward and a little insensitive about the others' feelings. He was surly, his collection of weapons was the most boring topic in the world, and he treated his fifteen year old sister as if she were nine. However, he was truly in love with the young lord.

He was just a misguided groom trying to orient himself in the aristocratic complexity of Roderich Eldestein. Heck, I could sympathize with the poor guy.

"Thank you." He gave me the hint of a smile. "Your stupid provocation opened my eyes."

"No probs! That's why I'm here!" I answered with a radiant smile, feeling a considerable improvement in my mood. "Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, stupid provocations and revelations are a 'must have' in the organization of a wedding!"

I had barely finished my last line, when the young lord returned to the table with a countenance that was grave and maybe even more haggard than before. He looked terrible. Pale, exhausted, with little humor and a lot of resentment.

Noticing his state, I wanted to show as soon as possible that everything was resolved, to reassure him and make him return to his usual stoic manners. I always hated to see Roderich upset.

"Well, now that I and Vash have released our sexual tension, we shall discuss more professional issues," I declared, stretching my hands to flex my arms in a single movement, releasing the latest tensions in my body.

That was my way of saying "Hey, hey! I handled the situation, Rod! You can relax! Do you think I would make a sexual joke about a guy who has a collection of firearms if we were still even the slightest bit fed up with each other? Hell no! Don't underestimate my absolute and supreme intelligence like that, young lord! It's all settled. Now, let's enjoy the evening and overcome this incident!", which was my plan for the rest of dinner.

"I have rented a ballroom for your waltz practice and I filled a flash drive with more than a hundred music options," I continued, very pleased with myself and confident that if the young lord didn't get excited by this news (which was super-mega-likely and nothing alarming because he rarely became excited in any scenario that didn't involve a piano), at least he would return to his standard level of bad mood. "Tomorrow, you start rehearsals for the newlyweds' dance."

"Wait a minute." Vash frowned. "Isn't this a bit late for choosing the music?"

Ha! I had predicted that they would have this concern, but I was saving an a trump card in my sleeve! A trump card??? I'm being modest! I had a top trump, an ace and a checkmate in my sleeve!

"Now is the best time to start the rehearsals." I assured him with a flaming enthusiasm that led me to raise my arms, my chin and the corners of my mouth with the gestures of a magician about to impress his audience. "Tcha-ran! I know that the choice of the waltz is your favorite part of the preparations, aristocrat, so I left it to the end to make you more comfortable during the rehearsals. It's okay, it's okay! You may cry with happiness! Don't refrain yourself, young lord! Celebrating the end of your part of the job is why we're here. Leave the rest to me. You guys only need to wear your suits, climb on the altar, don't forget your vows, and then make out in front of the judge. Just be careful to not confuse the order!"

In my mind, I was listening to the sound of thousands of applause and waiting for the sounds of eternal admiration of the Guillotine and Rod as a simple but significant background.

"You must be, at the same time, the worst and the best wedding planner in the world," Vash admitted with such a small smile that it would go unnoticed by a viewer with less experience.

"Thank you, Artillery! I'll ignore the confusing-and-probably-said-in-a-feverish-delirium start of your sentence!" I said excitedly, turning then to the young master, expectantly. "What about you, Rod? Any word of eternal gratitude to my awesome self?"

I made that whole surprise thinking about Roderich! Obviously his answer was the one was more anxious about!

Would he repay me with a shy admission that I was the most amazing wedding planner in the universe? With a sullen oath to give my name to his first foster child? With a resigned silence of deep reverence? What was he going to say? How would he answer? I was so excited because surely his next words and actions would make all my effort worthwhile, no matter what! I loved watching how funny the young lord was when he was happier than he had the courage to admit. I just wanted to see his face! As it was embarrassing for him, Rod definitely recognize that…!"

"I need to thank you for doing your job?" he asked, neutral and impassive.

… This was not how I was hoping he would react to my surprise. He barely bothered to lift his eyes from the table to talk to me.

'Course, the aristocrat wasn't the personification of joy or gratitude. I never assumed that he would jump with happiness and start to dance over the table after hearing my news, no matter how epic that image would be. However, that answer was simply cold. I mean, I put a lot of effort into successfully organizing our schedule like that and his reaction didn't show the slightest trace of acknowledgement about all that I had been though. To be more precise, he was so irascible, at that moment, that I got the impression that it would have been better if I had not organized anything for him.

"I'll replace your question mark with a exclamation point, young lord." I replied sarcastically, in a bad mood, frowning. I leaned forward and launched my last words at him slowly and aggressively, as if about to spit them in his face. "You. Are. Welcome."

"Roderich, there's no need to be so hard on him…" muttered hesitantly Mr. Artillery, too scared about that suddenly revealed glacial portion of his fiancé's personality to be more firm in his defense.

How ironic.

Vash was the person with one of the lowest levels of intimacy with me and who used to disapprove the most, but he was the person who defended me against the aristocrat's silent, intense and irreducible hostility.

For reasons not openly shared with us, after leaving us to go to the bathroom, Roderich became increasingly sullen and obscure. The only thing I could deduce was that he was upset with me for putting him in a delicate position in relation to his future husband. However, it was a bit tricky to understand the strength of his offense and was especially difficult to understand what was keeping him grumpy when Vash himself had already made peace with me. Frankly, I had no idea what was happening. Was Rod just holding a huge grudge or was there a point there that I was missing?

Either way, he neither addressed a single word to me nor looked at me directly for the rest of dinner. I couldn't blame him though. I had it coming.

Chapter Text

Chapter 07.

On the next day, I received no calls or e-mails from Roderich and that was when I started to get scared. The young lord contacted me regularly, including on dates in which it was hard to find a good excuse for it, so it was a very worrisome thing to see that he was completelysilent about the wedding rehearsal.

Not even a message with complaints about the ballroom that I rented or some grumpy words about last night.

As a comfort, I tried to convince myself of this … Hey, don't let the aristocrat distort your common sense. Usually, clients don't contact their wedding planners every day. Don't be nervous because of a single day in which he didn't talk with you. Sure, it was a super important day, but it was one day. Maybe he forgot to pay the electricity bill? He hates paying bills. Maybe he forgot his phone at home?

After I finished my problems at work, I went to my apartment, ordered a large pizza and started a game night with my friends online. Since there was less than two weeks left before the wedding, there was few things left to do but the waiting, so I had more free time on my hands and, man, I would enjoy it fully. My morning was free the next day, which basically meant: time for a marathon of "Dead Island".

It would be nice to forget some of that stuff about weddings and young lords with drastic changes in temperament and just relax and distract myself with the slaughter of zombies on an island.

A 600 mililiters bottle of soda, four pieces of pizza and three dozen zombies later, my intercom started buzzing, leaving me very suspicious and astonished. After all, except for the pizza that was already on my plate, I hadn't ordered anything eles so I wasn't expecting anyone.

Very quickly, I said goodbye to my friends and got up to answer it, dodging pillows scattered along the way.

"What?" I asked impatiently on the intercom.

"Good evening. There is a visitor for you, Mr. Beilschmidt."

"What?! A visitor?!" I may have screamed it too loudly because I wasn't prepared for this at all. Something weird was going on. "I'm not expecting any visitors!"

I heard in a voice in the distance, my doorman warning “He said he isn't expecting any visitors!” and the equally loud answer from my visitor, shouting something like "That's nonsense! Let me go up immediately! What part of my appearance suggests that I am a burglar?".

I covered my face with the palm of my hand. There was no need for a familiar picture or a sound to recognize the identity of my visitor. Among my acquaintances, there was only one person who could give a reply like that…

"Should I send him away, Beilschmidt?"

Goodbye, my peaceful night. I deserve this.

"No, no. Wait. I think I know this person," I sighed, pressing the center of my forehead and shaking my head sideways, already regretful. "You can let him in."

"As you wish. Good evening, sir Beilschmidt."

"Good night, dude, and good luck on your work."

Since I was 91% sure of the identity of who was coming to my flat, I concluded that was the end of my game marathon. I said goodbye to the guys, put the pizza in the fridge and the cushions over the couch, heard the bell and went to the door.

Through the peephole, I could see the young lord. To my relief, he seemed "normal" again. No eyes on the floor, rapid breathing or a uncomfortably uneasy expression. Only the good old Eldestein in his (comically) stoic appearance. After seeing him back to normal, I put my hand on his chest and let out through my mouth all the air from my lungs at once. Phew.

"What are you doing in my apartment at 11 PM, Rod?" I asked, opening the door, while using my arm to block his entry.

"This is not the right way to receive a visitor," was the answer he gave me, while dodging me, until finally slipping through the space under my arm to invade my house and settle on my couch. Just like his visits to my office to request my services, his movements showed without any shame a carefree and totally annoying nonchalance.

"This is not the right way to make a visit!" I exclaimed equally amazed and accusatory. "I checked my email and my phone all day and I am 124% sure that you didn't inform me that you were coming here, aristocrat!"

"It was not obvious that if I didn't give news all day, I would come at night?" he asked, as if that reasoning were perfectly logical.

Damn it. The young lord was really someone special. In the worst and best possible ways. Simultaneously.

"It's amazing how someone like you really exists in this world!" I opened both my mouth and my eyes widely. I'm not gonna to lie, at that moment, I was kinda dazzled by him. "Sit on my couch and wait a minute." I surrendered, moving my shoulders to stretch them and heading for the counter of my kitchen. "I'm going to prepare two cups of cappuccino. If we're talking in the night, we'll need a little caffeine first."

"The empty bottle of Coca-Cola does not suggest to me that you need another dose of caffeine," he pointed out, lowering his eyelids with some disapproval.

How ironic on his part, complain about my amount of caffeine, considering that he was the reason why I needed much, much more of that substance in my blood.

"Well, young lord, being so awesome all the time consumes a lot of energy!" I snapped, turning a bit my head to relax the tension in my neck. "I don't know about you but I need a cappuccino now!"

There was a short silent pause, anticipating what I already knew Roderich would answer.

"I also want one," he said to me in a low volume.

"Tell me something new." A smile escaped the edges of my mouth. "Young lord, you are the biggest coffee fan I know. Do you want me to put Nutella on the edges of the cup?"

Another predictable pause.

"Please."

I let out a small sigh and smiled again.

"Hey, Rod. I'm aware that you hate spending money and such but still, I don't understand why you don't have a decent coffee machine by now," I commented, picking up the pods to put in the machine. "I mean, it costs less to buy instant coffee and prepare it at the ordinary way, but I know you can't compare that kind of coffee with the one made with good beans in a decent machine. You have piles of money. Why don't you stop renting an ice statue at every wedding and use the money to purchase a good coffee machine? If you want to be stingy, aristocrat, it is important to pick the right priorities."

"Your opinion is biased," he huffed, crossing his arms. "You always had a bad relationship with my ice statues."

"Pfff. Truth." I laughed, shaking my head slightly. "Anyway, you like the coffee I make, right? Get your own machine to prepare them. I don't even like coffee that much and I have one of these."

Judging by the disaffected way he watched me over the lenses of his glasses, the young lord wasn't too impressed by my arguments.

"You also have an umbrella-hat that you have never used, a necklace made of screws that you only used for a Halloween party, and a lighter that glows in the dark, although you do not smoke …" he listed in a soft voice with subtle criticism. "If you buy ten thousand items on impulse, some of them, obviously, will be useful. How many of your objects ended up in my house in these last six years?"

"Lucky you!" I exclaimed, arching my eyebrows and barely containing my laugh. "It's an economy for you, after all!"

"I cannot see how I saved any money by storing three lucky pandas charms in my closet." He curled his lips in disapproval.

"Of course you can't see how! If they give you luck, your gain was indirect!" I opened my arms, letting a smirk forming on one of the corners of my mouth. "Simple simple answer, young lord."

It was then that happened one of those rare and unique moments whose mere existence was almost unbelievable.

"You're terrible, Gilbert," he spoke with a subtle little smile that passed by his expression like a moving shadow.

I got distracted so much with this surreal vision that almost left our cups overflow. Then, realizing that a few drops were falling on my leg, I woke up and quickly turned off the machine. The panic rushed my movements and I finished putting the Nutella in our cups in record time.

"Here's your cappuccino." I picked up our cups and went to my couch, sitting down beside the young lord. My couch had three places. Roderich was in the middle, so I was on his left, the closest side to the kitchen. "Be careful because it's hot, okay?" I warned, passing the cup to his hands.

Turns out that warning Rod to be careful because the drink was hot was like telling the fire to stop spreading through the forest because it burns. Entirely useless.

As soon as he touched the surface of the porcelain cup with the tips of his fingers – why he didn't take it by its handle like a normal person?, don't ask me – he immediately let it go, as if taken by surprise with the heat, and jumped to the other side of the couch, letting it fall to the floor and spilling its contents on the cushions and over the floor tiles. If I had not jumped off the sofa, one of my legs would be affected as well.

Fortunately, since the young lord had retreated to the other end of the sofa and was more safe than most of the people on the planet, there was no need for me to ignore my annoyance to focus on a emergency at hand and therefore I could I authorize myself to get angry about what happened.

Goddamnit, aristocrat!

"I just told you to be careful, Rod!" I yelled unabashedly upset. Those pillows had been washed only few days ago!

"I didn't think it was that hot!" he dared to protest. "It's your fault!"

What??? Really?! He'd put the blame on ME?!

"Mine?! I warned that the cup was hot!"

"Y-Yes, but you should … should not have given me such a hot cup, in the first place!"

As soon as he finished speaking, our eyes met and, little by little, mine were filled with mockery and his with defensiveness. We both knew very well that this excuse was terrible.

"Oh, Rod." I smiled and lightly pulled one of his cheeks. Pfff! They stretched so much!

"Stop it," he muttered, his voice coming through the corners of his mouth, looking in a dull and slightly embarrassed way to the sides.

"At least, we were lucky." As my mood that night was fantastic, I sought to be optimistic. "Your cup didn't break so I'll clean up this mess and prepare another cappucino for you." I decided, cleaning my palms on my pants and heading to the kitchen to pick up a mop to dry my furniture and the floor. "It was a legitimate mistake on my part to deliver you such a hot drink!" I remembered to comment, pausing for a second, in the kitchen, to smile widely for the aristocrat. I had a look of pity and sympathy so, so, so intentionally false it would be disappointing to see it confused with real compassion. "This time, I will blow it for you and serve it in small spoonfuls, and when you are older, I will teach you about the use of cutlery and other …!"

"I get the idea, Gilbert!" He interrupted me. Raising his voice with impatience at first, which was more hilarious than intimidating. Then, as if there was startled by his own tone, he changed his position on the conflict, making it a little more friendly and resigned, while I returned to the room and focused on cleaning of my furniture. Possibly he wanted to keep his pride and, as the saying goes, if you can't beat them, pretend you didn't want to beat them anyway and that such disputes were too wild for the most respectable members of society take part. "Very well! I'm not going to oppose your habit of picking on me." He snorted rather snobbish. "For a quality cappuccino, even this terrible hypothetical scenario you proposed becomes relatively acceptable."

"'Habit of picking up on you,' huh?" I repeated, kneeling before the couch while cleaning the last traces of spilled cappuccino, amused by his choice of words. "I don't plan to defend myself." I got up and shrugged while showing him a half-smile. "Your face is extremely funny when you're so embarrassed that you pin your guilt on others. Also, I'm glad to hear you directly assuming that you love my cappuccino more than anything in this universe, so I'm gonna add some cinnamon on top as a bonus to you."

Then, I headed back to the kitchen, intending to throw the dirty and wet cloth in the sink and prepare a new cappuccino for Roderich. I got distracted performing these tasks, only returning to watch Rod after finish them. In fact, I was just about to pick up my neglected cup to drink its contents, waiting for my coffee machine complete its work, when I came across something that confused me for a moment.

Chapter Text

Chapter 08.

For some reason, Rod was wrapping his arms around his body and cringing shyly in his corner of the couch, his gaze lost in a distant point on the wall opposite me. There was a certain vulnerability showing in his posture. It was like he didn't realize that I was right there.

I wondered if he was cold but nah. It couldn't be. Since when did Roderich not complain when he was feeling uncomfortable? If he wanted a blanket, he would demand one.

…Unless he was embarrassed to be cold? Was he afraid that I would laugh about how fragile he was about thermal changes or something? That was weird. Coming from the young lord, one would expect him to complain of the bad heating in my apartment and demand a blanket as if it was my debt to this country. Was he hiding a complaint? Mr. Roderich“I-pass-my-guilt-and-responsibilities-onto-others-as-if-they-were-doing-nothing-more-than-a-obligation” Eldestein? Hiding a complaint?!

When he finally noticed my analytical look, he corrected his position immediately, becoming very awake, defensive and aware of my presence... Suspiiiicious. What went on in his mind? Hmpf. Who could even guess? As spoke the old Shakespeare, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our vain philosophy, and the aristocrat's thought's flow surely was at least 1/3 of those wonders.

Well, no-matter what he was thinking about, a hot cappuccino was about to arrive. He was very lucky to have a host as perfect as me and also that I was still too concerned about the last night to risk pressing him regarding an issue about which he wasn't willing to comment.

“Changing the subject, may I begin to address the issue that brought me here?” he asked, looking at me sideways with caution and suspicion.

Ah, yes. The reason for his visit. I was still busy preparing another cup of cappuccino for him, but I didn't see any problem in discussing the matter. I drank the contents of my own glass while waiting for his to be ready.

“Sure, go ahead,” I said with my mouth partially immersed in the cup.

“It's about my waltz...”

I sipped some of my drink. The sweet and hot flavor gave me more energy.

“Oh, yeah! How was the rehearsal?”

“Abysmal.” He fired back immediately.

“Wow.” I blinked twice, stunned by the speed and security of that response. “You didn't even thought of using euphemisms or something.”

Suddenly a vague intuition that I would need more caffeine to get ready for that dialogue arose in me, causing a dramatic acceleration in the speed that I was swallowing my drink. My rhythm went from a "Gulp... Gulp... Gulp" to "Gulp, gulp, gulp."

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" I asked myself, somewhat astonished by this inexplicable feeling. I was probably overreacting. What could be so bad concerning a simple rehearsal...?

“I'm afraid to say that, although we were in the ballroom for hours, we still couldn't select our music.”

I almost spit the cappuccino out of my mouth.

“For real?!” As soon as I could swallow my drink and stop gasping with it, I hurried to raise these very important concerns of mine. “Shit, when you said that the rehearsal was bad, I thought it had something to do with the fact that you and Vash are probably terrible dancers! You didn't choose the fucking music?! The orchestra is gonna kill me!”

Nothing in this world has pros without having cons. This is one of the laws of the universe.

On one hand, sure, I had prepared a magnificent surprise for the aristocrat and my actions deserved endless recognition. On the other hand, they cost a price and brought their risks. The orchestra got furious with me when I informed them that they would only have two weeks to prepare for the groom's waltz so I calmed them, saying the young lord would just request one of the classics they had played dozens of times and promising that I would hire them for more events if they only agreed to my terms in this one case. In the end, with a huge and obvious displeasure, they ended up complying with me.

That said, I was completely unprepared for such terrible news.

I took Roderich's cappuccino to my coffee table with my walk somewhat disoriented and my head down, muttering to myself, sentences like "I need to call the maestro.” "What is the minimum time that they need to practice until the day of the ceremony?", "Am I going to be able to rent another decent orchestra if they cancel now?", "Can they sue me?" and most of all "Think, Gilbert Beilschmidt! Oh my fucking God, think! Use this great and brilliant brain of yours!", too focused on formulating how I could repair the damage of my clients to keep my thoughts escape from my mouth.

I was still in my "professional" mode, when I sat next to the Roderich in my stained couch. Unfortunately, I no longer had any cappuccino nor remembered that I probably should be picking on the young lord because of how cautious he appeared to be while looking at the full cup that I put on the table, next to my now empty glass.

I blamed my state on distraction, leading me to sit in the middle of the couch, not at its other end, despite the place being a little damp and with an aroma that blended coffee, chocolate and cleaning products.

“I don't understand the reason for this wrong assumption, Gilbert,” commented the aristocrat, maintaining his cup untouched just for precaution, and his hands on his lap. “Why would you suppose that I wouldn't know how to dance? This is an incomprehensible mistake. After all, you saw me waltz at my two previous weddings.”

Uh... About that... Yeah...

Was I in the ballroom during Rod's two wedding parties? Yep. Did I actually watch his waltzes? Nope.

On both occasions, I wasn't exactly in a good mood, nor in a condition to watch the young lord dancing around with his current partner.

This information was a detail to be hidden, of course. As if I could admit that to him.

“Sorry about that, aristocrat.” I shrugged, forcing a tone of disregard into my voice. “I wasn't paying much attention to your dances because I was very busy, preventing your little cousin from bathing in your chocolate fountain.” A half-truth does not count as a lie, right? “In the two marriages, no less! Seriously! Someone have to control the diet of that kid!”

“Well, I don't disagree with you in this last remark.” He shook his head with a very serious countenance. “So ...” He took a deep breath, picking up his cup with utmost caution and dipped his gaze on its inside. Very carefully. “… What you're saying is that you didn't watch my waltz in any of my marriages.”

I swallowed hard and let out a laugh that sounded more nervous more than I intended to.

“Yeah, young lord.” I rolled my eyes and teased him. “Just because I'm your wedding planner that doesn't mean that I have to pay attention to you all the time.”

Roderich REALLY didn't find my remark funny. Not at all.

“I'm aware of this, Beilschmidt,” he said in an icy tone.

... Lately, it was being more difficult to track or understand Roderich’s mood swings. Just a few moments ago, he appeared to be totally fine and now he was acting as if we were mortal enemies! "I'm aware of this, Beilschmidt ~”! Damn. He only called me Beilschmidt when I messed up bad. What the fuck, man. What the heck had I done now???

But you know what? It was better to end that discussion on that point, instead of demanding explanations or something. Personal experiences have taught me that there are certain things that are easier to handle when ignored.

“Huh... Okay, going back to the main topic!” My eyebrows went up and I joined the palms of my hands, displaying my best ‘Let's get down to business!’ posture. “You didn't choose your waltz music... Why?”

“My fiancé doesn't have much taste for the arts,” he lamented sincerely and took a long sip of cappuccino before continuing his explanation. Facing forward, he stared at his reflection on my turned off television with a distant look, as a poet contemplating the moon, because Rod had his own subtle ways of expressing feelings and this was one of them... “He doesn't really care about the waltz and gave me complete freedom in that decision. However, because he did not care about it, I couldn't feel encouraged to select one.”

Well, I guess it must be boring to show your main interest to someone and receive only boredom in response. Still, it was Rod who chose to marry that guy. He probably had other criteria.

“Then, what do you intend to do, young lord?” I put my elbows over my knees and my head between my hands.

“I have come here to request your opinion,” he said, taking another long sip. I was beginning to suspect that he was trying to create an atmosphere of suspense with all those breaks in the middle of his speech. Oh, Rod... You really try too hard to have cinematographic life. “You certainly have knowledge on the subject, although you insist on your appreciation of the eccentricities of modern art.”

“Hey! I like the European avant-garde of the early modernism!” I defended myself abrasively. “Not the distortion of them in postmodern works! I mean, Dadaism was good in its time because it was consistent with the historical context of a period when Europe was miserable due to the First World War and there was no time or space for art. During this period, pointing out the idea that art was essentially part of the assignment of value to an object was brilliant. Unfortunately, they used too much this insight and nowdays it doesn't makes sense anymore. As the old Freud said, sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.”

“I suppose this preference is more forgivable but I still wouldn't position the vanguards in front of the true classics,” he answered defiantly.

“Oh, please! Don't try to play the Renaissance man in front of me, young lord!” I started laughing because, come on, he was trying to pull this bullshit on me? “Aren't you a huge fan of Satie's Gnossiennes and Ravel's Miroirs?”

Oh, it was delightful to see how the eyes of Rod became more open and upset at hearing my provocation.

“I... I was referring to the world of paintings!”

“Even so!” I kept laughing “Don't tell me you prefer a Cabanel or a Botticelli to a Van Gogh, Munch or Monet!”

“Of course! A lot of talent is required to create images that close to reality,” he argued stubbornly. “Not to mention that we can see a delicate and detailed work done in these paintings, which are not evident in the rudimentary features of avant-garde paintings.”

“Okay, let's ignore the fact that these works soooo close to reality usually featured a bunch of nymphs, goddesses, cherubs and several almost naked women in the middle of the 16th century,” I mocked, rolling his eyes and smiling lightly. “What's so funny about reality if you don't give it interpretations or conceive of it as a diverse set of perceptions? If you want to simplify it, you can see it in front of us all the time. Especially today! You may not be informed of this advanced technology, young lord, but if I wanted to have a realistic picture of a scenery, I just had to take a little device called camera and...!”

“Gilbert!”

Even if it was fun to make the almighty Lord Composure shout impatiently like that, I still had a point to present. I completed my train of thought with the following line:

“My point, dear aristocrat, is that the vanguard led us to a new way of perceiving reality and put it on canvas, which is totally awesome. Shame that people are using its principles in excess, to the point of taking away all its meaning and originality.”

“Heavens. I'm starting to fear that you will recommend something eccentric to be my wedding dance, such as the ‘Rite of Spring.’” He sighed as if he was done with me but I could tell that he was being subtly playful. “I really hope that my first dance married with Vash is not based on a ritual sacrifice of a young woman to a Russian pagan god.”

Pfff! I can't deny that this was a super-funny mental image and even a little tempting...! I mean, Stravinsky at a wedding? Hey, what if I switched ...? Bah! No. It would be funny, but no.

“No, no. I may like innovations, however, don't forget that one of my many qualities is my versatility,” I assured with closed eyes and a smile of ‘Oh-Rod-your-poor-innocent-thing-who-knows-nothing-about-this-world.’ “I also have a romantic side, you know, young lord.”

“I deeply doubt it.” Every word of this sentence was emphasized with a lot of conviction.

His stared at me over his spectacles in a way so overly skeptical that it was verging on comical. Since when he had become so skeptical about my romanticism?

“How mean, aristocrat! This ‘deeply’ was really needed?” I laughed briefly, forging offense to tease him. “Never mind, never mind!” I smiled with good humor, shaking my hand in a gesture of dismissal, before he could actually answer that question. “Tell me about the waltzes that you have in mind, Rod!”

“I was thinking of Tchaikvosky. Strauss father and Strauss son were used in my other marriages. In this one, I would like something more original.”

“Hmm. Tchaikovsky is, indeed, less cliché.” I put a hand on my chin, making a reflexive physical posture mimicking the style of ‘The Thinker.’ The old Michelangelo would probably be proud of me if he saw me in that instant. “Not for much, still I guess it's a fine option within the limits of possibilities to you. It would be too much to ask that your first married dance was a ‘Stairway to Heaven’ or something.”

“I'm glad that I don't know what you're mentioning. From what I know of you, this music must be either a rock of the seventies and eighties that could never be danced by my grandparents or the background music of a pornographic film.”

I almost choked on my own breath. The mental image of a porno with the background sound of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ or Led Zeppelin playing in the background of a porno was too much for me and tears came to my eyes. Ah, that young lord. No one could make me laugh as much as he.

“I'm going to use Tchaikovsky and I'm in doubt between three options,” he said when my laughs petered out, staring at me, somewhat annoyed.

“Right.” I was wiping the tears from my eyes. “I'm listening.”

“The Waltz of the Flowers is one of them.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. If you're looking to escape the cliché, this is not the best choice. That waltz is too popular.”

“The Sentimental Waltz, maybe?”

“Ah, this certainly is a more original choice. It would be perfect for your wedding party if it had not been the opening of one of the Dracula movies already.”

“Really?” He blinked, seeming a little curious.

“Yep. You can select it if your intent is to provide to your guests the feel of being in a vampire ball. Kinda fits, considering the amount of millionaires in your party.”

After hearing my commentary, a subtle and probably accidental sign of amusement on Rod's face was detected by me, which pleased me greatly. Too bad it was so discreet and ephemeral.

“Hmpf. If it came to this, I think must select my third choice.”

“What is?”

“The Sleeping Beauty Waltz.”

“Pfff! The Disney movie song?!”

“W-What? I don't know what you're talking...!”

Of course, I knew the original version of Tchaikovsky and I was fully aware that the Roderich was thinking of it when selecting this song. However, I would never miss the opportunity to have a good laugh of that situation. Rod had selected a song used in a Disney movie! This was a unique occasion! As if I could waste it!

“Stop lying, young lord. You would have to live another thousand years to deceive someone with a capacity of deduction as great as mine.” I leaned toward him, taking his hand and starting an exaggerated imitation of Princess Aurora. “‘You know, I'm really not supposed to speak with strangers but we met before.’”

“What...?” He frowned.

“I know you... I walked with you once upon a dream!” I sang in a falsetto very high and purposefully melodramatic.

“This is the melody but I wasn't intending to use...!”

“I know you! The gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam!” At this point, I got his hand and started to rock it from one side to the other, moving along with the song.

“Can you stop already?”

“Yet, I know it's true that visions are seldom what they seem!” The more he complained, the more I threw myself at my interpretation.

“You're making a fool of yourself and your singing is really not the correct tone to this song...”

“But if I know you! I know what you'll do! You'll love me at once!”

“Gilbert...”

“The way you did once upon a dreeeeam!!”

“Do you realize that with each verse you sing, you end up proving that you memorized the entire song...?”

Though I reached my goal to annoy him just a bit, I still hadn't obtained the reaction I was really waiting for. He remained controlled and serious, which wasn't that funny to watch. I needed to get under his guard to get him to show his spontaneous side. Thinking that, I interrupted the young lord, using his hand to pull him toward me and dramatically reduce the distance between us. His eyes were just a few centimeters from mine. His mouth parted in shock.

“W-What are you...?!” He began to retreat with a disturbed and slightly embarrassed expression.

“‘I'm awfuly sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you!’” I said, radically changing my previous tone, now to mimic Prince Philip. It was a perfect line delivery.

He could no longer bear it. The young lord covered his mouth with his free hand and laughed. He laughed almost silently, getting short of breath and involuntarily moving his shoulders, while I felt like an emperor observing the return of his victorious army.

Rod was able to laugh and that was the most unusual and fascinating scene of the universe. Do you know how there's scientists who spend months in Antarctica just to film a seal for forty minutes? My relationship with Rod was something like that.

I couldn't help but laugh with him.

We calmed down gradually. There was no rush for us to end that relaxed atmosphere and focus in professional matters. We had all night to choose a waltz. We had more than enough time on our hands.

Our laughing were slowly running out and becoming slow inspiration for the recovery of our breath.

“If you want my opinion, I believe this is an excellent choice for you, young lord.” I smiled sincerely, giving him a soft look.

“Really?” he asked, back to showing his calm face, which no longer had the marks of his rare moment of spontaneity, except for a residual tinge of pink on his cheeks.

“Obviously.” I laughed a little, rolling my eyes and gradually letting his hand go. “I wouldn't play a Disney Princess for nothing.”

All the countenance of the aristocrat dropped in its mood and darkened suddenly.

“Alright...” he murmured, lowering his eyes with bitterness. “I shall use it then.”

Could he be less excited? The young lord agreed with my suggestion as a desolate child accepts socks as a Christmas gift.

“What’s wrong?” I furrowed my eyebrows, making a serious expression.

“Hm?”

“You don't look super-happy with your choice, young lord,” I pointed out with distaste.

“I don't remember an occasion in which I could describe my emotional state as ‘super-happy,’” he answered in very neutral manner.

“Argh! You know what I meant! We were laughing here and you suddenly wilted! My advice is precious like emeralds, young lord, but nobody is obliged to always follow it. Don't feel pressured to stay with this song, if you don't want to.”

“It’s not that, you fool. I really have no sense of obligation to follow your advice.”

Wow. I could have slept without this one. No literally, I could have slept without it. I was the one who agreed to let Roderich go into my apartment in the middle of the night.

“Damn, Rod!” I exclaimed, justifiably outraged. “Thanks for caring so much!”

“To be honest, I'm thinking about yesterday's dinner...”

This sentence was enough to make my whole body went into alert

Oh ... Hm. "Yesterday's dinner"... Right. I was really hoping that we would ignore that subject.

“Ah, that...?” I started to hit the palm of my hands lightly on my legs in a constant and uninterrupted pace. It was an automatic movement of my body. “Young lord, I didn't...”

How could I even end that sentence? ‘I didn't want to prove I know you better than your husband’? ‘I didn't want to create an uncomfortable atmosphere at our table’? ‘I didn't want to annoy your fiancé and get back at you for excluding me from the conversation’? ‘I didn't want to memorize all this information about you like a twelve year's old boy obsessed with a rock star’?

My only certainty about what I didn't want was of little use as apology.

I didn't want to hurt Rod or have a serious fight with Vash. Period. About the rest of the things that I mentioned... I couldn't frankly say I didn't have part of the intentions showed above.

However, a simple ‘I didn't mean to hurt you!’ is not a valid excuse when we don't admit our guilt. I needed a better apology.

I had been trying to prepare for all possible disastrous dialogue paths. Considering how Rod got angrier on other occasions over much less than what had happened last night, it would be strange, indeed, if he had, in fact, surpassed his grudge with such speed and ease. I guess, deep, deep down, I was already suspecting that he wasn't 102% on that spirit of "Let's forget the past! Carpe diem!” and that he would bring that topic up when it was convenient.

As if that spiteful aristocrat could just get over an incident like last night. Until that moment, he seemed normal to me, but this could just be a front for me to help him to solve his problems with the wedding preparations.

Even he was probably aware that no one in this world would agree to give professional advice in the night to someone with whom you're currently having a fight. Having solved his question regarding the waltz choice, now he could start pouring his bad temper on me, as he probably intended all along.

The worst part is that I had to endure that. Even if his behaviour was manipulative as shit, I was in no position to complain. I had made a big mess last night. I fixed it, which was great, but that didn’t mean I had done more than my job. Rod had the right to be upset with me.

I honestly thought he was about to criticize me and was fully prepared to hear whatever fuck he was going to throw over me...

“I'm not sure that I am compatible with my future husband, Gilbert.”

... Except this.

Chapter Text

Chapter 09.

The world suddenly froze.

Each second became equivalent to one minute. Each minute was equivalent to one hour.

Hey, I know. Mathematically, this makes no sense, but what the hell made sense in that scene? "I'm not sure I'm consistent with my future husband, Gilbert." ... This couldn't be real. There was less than two weeks to Roderich's wedding. He was in a peaceful and promising relationship with his husband....

... In short, the circumstances did not fit at all with this line.

My feeling was that our world was crashing into the layers of an alternate universe. After all, where did this even come from? Yes, there was a turmoil last night, but the fault was mine, as we had established and solved. "I'm not sure I'm consistent with my future husband, Gilbert." Saying something that... It had to be a joke.

So why did Roderich exude absolute seriousness? Had I caught the wrong meaning of his words? Was I increasing the weight of a mere sentence? Was he just making some casual complaints about his fiancé? Performing the typical complaint that actually is just a showing-off speech "At-times-I-don't-know-how-I love-this-person-so-much" that happens so many times with well-established couples? What was going on there?

The echo of those words rang in my ears for what seemed like an eternity. It was as if a bell was ringing at full volume in my head.

“What do you mean?” I blinked, feeling difficulty in keeping me in that conversation plan. It was hard to keep my focus, when my mind was spinning like a tornado.

“I assumed that our similar personalities could result in a balanced relationship. However, I'm losing my faith in that,” he said in pure dismay. That reaction was sincere. Roderich was a bad actor. He could never purposely express a feeling that was not his. I was increasingly disturbed by his behavior.

What the hell did he meant by "losing my faith in that”? What was going on? What was he saying?!

He couldn't be serious! If he was, that meant he was about to commit an act so incredibly stupid that it was something far beyond me toaccept that this was possible! If he was playing a trick on me, he had already gone way too far and he had to realize that he should stop soon!

“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked, and my voice did not betray my present chaotic emotional state.Luckily, I managed to sound more surprised than aggressive but that was a close one.

It was already time for Roderich to notice that I was giving a very incorrect interpretation to his words and then begin to stutter, hesitate, hold back or create some involuntary defense mechanism. He had to realize how wrong the impression caused by his words or how stressful that joke was to others.

Because that was what was happening, right ???

At any moment, he would correct himself and apologize for scaring me like that! Ha, ha! Very soon, we'd be laughing about that misunderstanding. Or rather, I would be laughing and teasing the young lord, saying something like "You're lucky to be talking to a master of rhetoric, Rod! Your fiancé would be crying if he listened to something like that!", and he would react bitterly and claim that it was not his fault if I gave an overdramatic and absurd tone to his words.

This seemed the only possible outcome for this conversation.

... But the more I searched for signs of anxiety and confusion, the more I came across a calm, eloquent individual who boasted confidence in what claimed. Slowly, I was forced to recognize that the only anxious and confused guy in that room was me. Rod? Whatever his feelings were, confusion and uncertainty were not among them … It was very different from my case. I was completely submerged in the deep oceans of mortification and knew that I wouldn't reach the surface any time soon.

“I realized that I never feel at ease when I'm around him,” he began his most assured explanation, while I was holding my breath without realizing it, frowning in absolute concentration, and touching my forehead with my fingertips. My head was heavy and aching. It was hard to keep up with Rod and he did not reduce the pace to help me with that. “I can have my moments of entertainment with him, but it's hard to imagine spending a lifetime at his side. His company consumes my energies. I'm always forcing myself to listen to issues and ideas, which I couldn't care less about, and disguise many facets of my personality... Apparently, our similarities do not extend to the fundamental points.” He sighed, with closed eyes and shook his face in disappointment. “We don't have similar tastes or compatible minds. Furthermore, it was a blow to my pride to see my fear of fish being openly mocked. I am not capable of envisioning my future with such a person.”

With each sentence that the young lord dropped on me, the greater was my difficulty of thinking rationally and keep calm. Each one of them felt like a bomb exploding behind me, leaving an unbearable buzzing in my head.

I was suddenly transported to a dangerous zone and was well aware of the relevance of the next words I would say... Well-aware and uncomfortable. As Roderich's wedding planner and as a guy who knew him for six years, I was in an awful position.

With great power comes unbearable responsibilities.

Why Rod was saying this to me? Why? Was he only trying to vent? Maybe receive some encouragement? A light pat on the shoulders?

Whatever he was looking for, my answer could only be one.

I had to keep the situation under control.

I was overreacting and if I kept acting like that, I would allow Roderich to go way too far in his pessimistic perspective. So I had to remain calm and adopt a professional attitude. This was not the first frightened groom, about to make a big mess a few weeks before their marriage, I had had to deal with. In the most extreme case, I went to the house of one of them, in the middle of the ceremony, and yelled at him for fifteen minutes to persuade him that if he didn't drag his fucking ass to that damned church, his bride would never look him on the face again and he would waste one of the best chances of his life.

A bit of insecurity, a few days before the wedding, was nothing that I couldn't solve. All I had to do was show the young master he was going through a very common drama and exaggerating in his criticism about Vash.

“Hey! What he did wasn't cool but don't be that harsh on him.” I sought to encourage him, patting his shoulder. The nervousness was affecting my smile, but I persisted in offering it. I needed to convince the Roderich that this situation was perfectly normal and he was worrying about nonsense. “Your phobia is not very common! It's not that strange that he laughed after hearing about it!”

“You didn't laugh,” he replied without wasting a second and with no hesitation, and considering the content of the sentence, I found it strange how hostile it sounded.

????????????????

Just for starters, how did I get involved in this matter?! Since when was Roderich using me as a role model to comparison?! Where was he going with this line of thought?!

“Well.... No, I didn't laugh.” I agreed faltering, lowering my head and letting my mouth ajar with confusion and defensiveness.

I never, ever thought he would bring up this comparison. It took me 100001% by surprise and left me unprepared! How to react to a line like that? I couldn't even understand the point he was trying to demonstrate with it!

Shaken, I coughed dryly, trying to buy time to think about my next words.

In the end, I chose to speak very seriously, still averting my face to not look upon Roderich directly:

“You know I would never joke about something serious for you and that you can always warn me if I go too far by accident.”

Though I had no notion of what he was planning with all these statements, this was the point I wanted to make very clear for him. The young lord could trust me and count on me. It was necessary for me to emphasize that! Not only for me but also for Zwingli! How much credit would my advice get if Roderich didn't trust me? I didn't say that for nothing!

However, that kind of phrase in practice wasn't helping Vash very much, so aiming to lead Rod back to the right track, I laughed and said, half-serious, half-joking:

“But we're talking about me and you cannot compare all the guys with me or you will suffer eternal disappointments in your life.”

Yep, I was being friendly, warm and understanding. In my experience, doing so was essential, considering our circumstances. I needed to cheer up Roderich! Still... How can I explain?

It was as if my joy and tranquility were turning Rod gradually more impatient. I decided to ignore it, thinking that was just an impression, but I was only putting off the inevitable.

Finally, we reached a point that he wanted to express in the most direct possible way:

“Gilbert, you don't understand.” He was more blunt and irascible. “How can I marry a man who knows me less than my wedding planner?”

That last phrase was a punch in my stomach. Man, it hurt. Even in a physical way.

"A wedding planner", huh? Well, that was my role. I just didn't expect to hear the aristocrat throwing it in my face with all his might.

“Listen, Roderich.” I put a hand on my forehead and felt deep and irregular lines forming on it. Stress, stress, stress. I had to restrain it. “You're being pretty hasty about all this... There's less than two weeks for your wedding.” I took a deep breath. I had to keep myself calm. I had to keep myself calm. It was my job. The aristocrat was counting on me for my professional opinion... Unconsciously. “You are tired and anxious. It's normal that you feel that way now. It's the typical prenuptial tension. In a few days you will see how all these fears were just nonsense.”

“I'm not being hasty,” he spoke fiercely.

As we talked, a storm was going on in my head.

“Roderich, listen ...” I moved my hands in order to calm him down and tried to keep me under control. Chill, Gilbert. Do not jump to extreme conclusions. Be the reasonable person in this conversation. You know how these things work. You are a wedding planner with twelve years of experience... Saying this to myself, I made another attempt to comfort him. This time, on a more personal and warm way. “You're confused and scared. It's normal.”

To motivate him, though I was still chewing with difficulty the sudden professional detachment he had imposed between us, I was expressing my most sincere feelings and wanted to convey them properly.

At that point, I had reached a conclusion. In my professional opinion, one of the eight best opinions of the planet, I had to take Roderich’s cold commentary about us in a different way.

I mean, we have to ignore part of the lines that are spoken in a fight, right? There was no way the aristocrat considered our connection to something as insignificant as that. We knew each other’s habits and tastes. On several occasions, Roderich talked with me about stuff that didn't have any connection with his wedding party. He could be a cold guy that sometimes was pretty shameless while defending his interests but c'mon. Despite his insensitivity, you couldn't go so far as to drink coffee with nutella in a guy's apartment and not form any personal connection with him. He was only acting reckless. If I made him realize this, I definitively could give more credibility to my opinions.

After all, as someone who kept a somewhat personal connection with him, I was confident that our rather clumsily-on-love-matters but very hard-working Guillotine was a wonderful match for him, so I recommended with a sincere smile:

“Don't let anxiety control you. I'm saying this because I know you and I know it will be great for you to be with a guy like Vash.”

“Yes, because it's your job to know me, isn't it?!”

I was taken aback by the tone of accusation in those words.

“Huh?”

“Don't act as if you have some authority over my decisions,” he attacked suddenly. “As you communicated to my groom very clearly, your knowledge about me doesn't extend beyond what is essential for your work. Don't treat me as if you know me better than myself.”

“You heard that?!” My eyebrows jumped on my face. “And you're upset about what I said ?!”

I had forgotten that the young lord could detect the wrong note of an instrument in the rain sounds of an orchestra. Of course he could hear, at close range, a conversation at a normal volume, in the middle of a quiet restaurant. The bathroom was relatively close to our table, now that I thought about it.

What was most impressive was not Rod's ability to hear us, but how he was reacting to what he heard.

I mean, from what I remember (and my memory is worthy of the highest praises), our conversation consisted of my apology request to Vash and his acknowledgment that he still had a lot to improve in the way he treated his boyfriend. If the aristocrat heard our conversation, he shouldn't be happy??? I apologized, explained to his future husband that he had no reasons to have suspicions about Rod and to make the party even better, the Artillery also revealed a sincere desire to improve their relationship! What part of our conversation that caused such a drop in the young lord's mood?!

“No, I'm not upset,” he said, quietly, in the most resplendent and mortifying cynicism. “On the contrary, I fully agree with your words. You are my wedding planner and you're being paid to attend to my requests. Not to interfere in my personal life as if you had authority over me.”

That was it. That was my limit. I had enough for a single night.

“I think it's time for you to go home, Rod,” I said soberly, hastily rising from my couch. “Come on.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 10.

Without hesitation, I grabbed his wrist, forcing him to get up, and began to pull him out of my apartment.

My movement was so sudden and aggressive that the remaining liquid in his cup almost fell onto the floor. With a staggering walk, he made a clumsy attempt to put his glass on the table, yet it also dropped and rolled to the ground.

Unlike Roderich, the law of inertia didn't fail.

What was he even doing? I was about to throw him out of my apartment and his first action was putting my fucking cup in the right place. The cup that I could get on my own when I wanted to. His first impulse was not to apologize, ask me what he had done wrong or if I was upset, show concern, or anything like that. Nooo! His priority was to put the goddamn cup on the table to avoid staining his monarchical clothes!

I know I know. It may seem that I am reading a lot of dramatic intensity into a reasonable and common course of action, but you need to understand that the first impulse of a person shows much of what they really feel. Anyone in my position would hope that Rod would at least have shown some astonishment or alarm first, instead of that casual attitude of "very-well-just-let-me-put-this-cup here"! What kind of immediate concern was that? It was not like I was sending him home with my glass and everything, if he didn't put it in some place quickly!

Urgh. That cup could explode for all that I cared! We were having a pretty serious moment there. Good Lord, why were Rod's priorities never in the right place?

Dragging him along was easier for me and more embarrassing for him than we expected. Being slim and fairly inexperienced in dealing with any brutality, the aristocrat wasn't in a position to have much power over his own movements. In fact, he was practically falling on top of his feet, and yes, I was aware of it, but frankly? I couldn't care less about my aggressive and rude way of dragging Roderich to the door. I was really done with him for that night and did not have the slightest patience for niceties that he did not deserve.

Not that I planned to have an eternal grudge against him or something. Let's not exaggerate. If this was bad night that he would regret in the near future, fantastic. These incidents can occur before weddings, I know that much. We would probably reconcile again in a near future if that was the case. However, for that moment, I had realized that Icouldn't deal with him for one more second. I didn't want to give him the opportunity him to say another stupid comment that would end up leading me to actions which I would regret later.

It was a perfectly sensible plan so, of course, Roderich had to spoil it.

He finally managed to resist and stopped me halfway. Settling on a spot on the floor, pulling my arm tightly and forcing me to face him. I felt the disdain stamped on my face when we faced each other.

“It's impossible to understand why you are so determined to discourage me from questioning my future wedding!” He said in a loud voice and I couldn't believe that his confusion was genuine. It couldn't be! No one was that stupid! “We have a contract, so your salary will be paid anyway!”

Salary?! SALARY?!

I felt something explode inside me.

“Alright! Do you want to play this game?!” I shouted in his face, causing his eyes to open wide with fright. Roderich had seen me frustrated, annoyed and done. Never angry. I tried to control the situation, I tried to be understanding, I tried to be diplomatic ... Now, I was not trying anything. I was screaming what came to my mind and letting go, like an eruption, all that I was keeping prudently within me for who knows how long. “In that case, I'll be frank with you! Roderich, I don't know what you expect of me! I sincerely don't know! Do you want advice?!” I raised an eyebrow questioningly, feeling my face writhe in indignation. “Applause?! A hug?! Why did you come all the way here in the middle of the night to tell me that you are insecure about a marriage that hasn’t even happened?!”

“Don't be absurd!” he replied, offended. “I came here to talk about my waltz!”

“Ha! As if!” I shot back aggressively. In my anger and derision at his shameless excuses, my teeth were appearing as if I was smiling but I was not. “Roderich, can you stop the cynicism?! You didn't come here to talk about your damn waltz! For fuck's sakes, Roderich! What's your right to demand something from me besides my job?! How can you visit me in the middle of the night and say 'casually'...” I emphasized the word, stretching the syllables, shaking my head, rolling my eyes upward and creating, in general, an exaggerated air of false innocence that showed how much I was skeptical of that excuse. “...that you're thinking about giving up of your wedding, and then tell me I should not interfere in your decisions because I am just your wedding planner?!”

I was screaming so loudly that some saliva droplets were coming out of my mouth and hitting Eldestein's face.

However, our fight was so serious that he did not say anything about it nor move one millimeter from where he was; thereby displaying the same determination and intensity that I did … Not that it caused any change in the volume of my voice. I truly believe that the neighbors just didn't make a complaint about our noise because they thought I would destroy the house of anyone who dared to interrupt us. They were right.

There was nothing with the capacity to hold me. My neighbors, the aristocrat, our contract, my common sense ... NOTHING. I really was at my limit. This was not only about that night or that work. Oh no. My fight with Roderich was just the last drop to make a pool of conflicts overflow.

Let me explain.

It may seem quite surprising, but the fact that I had pushed an infinite amount of doubts, frustrations and other turbulent emotions under a professional carpet in those years that followed my first encounter with Roderich in hopes they would disappear over time if I leaved it alone, was not overlooked by me.

It was a temporary measure. Something similar to an improvised quick cleaning of the house when you receive the last minute's news that your in-laws are coming to visit you. When you are in hurry, you can't leave the house completely clean, so you just improvise and hide the mess, rather than correct it. Only when your in-laws leave, will you get time and space for a decent cleaning.

The problem is that, in my case, I never was able to clean up the mess that was under my mat, because every time that I thought "my in-laws" had finally left, surprise!, they appeared again and I had to cancel my housecleaning again and put once more in the mountain below the carpet, the mess that had accumulated while they were with me.

Imagine how it is having to push more and more dust under the carpet. The feeling of putting your hands in cleaning products and hear the bell rings again. Since there is no black hole under your carpet if you keep accumulating and accumulating whatever you hide under it, there will be a point where it will form a mountain impossible to ignore. There will be a point at which you begin to yearn with all your heart, that your in-laws, no matter how lovely and charming they are, get out immediately, once and for all. It's ridiculous to have piles of dust become a mountain. How did it get that high? You can't help but feel the need to clean it urgently because it's making you extremely uncomfortable every time you look at it.

Earlier, at least you could pretend it didn't exist! However, as it is in evidence, you can't avoid looking at it out of the corner of your eyes or feel deeply uneasy with its presence … The worst? You cannot stop being consumed by the anxiety that brings the question: how the hell your in-laws are not seeing an obvious and embarrassing mountain like that?!

Yeah, those were my emotions.

All of them were present when I shouted with Roderich, pointing to his chest:

“You have to stop being so harsh with your partners, marry Vash and face your choices, aristocrat!”

“What right do you have of demanding something like that from me?” he asked with irritability.

Oh, I had almost a law to demand something like that from Roderich. Especially if a certain possibility in particular that was tormenting me with an ever greater intensity since we started that discussion, was confirmed.

Which possibility was that? Well ... Although I had, with a good amount of effort, repressed and ignored its existence, a certain idea appeared in me long ago.

It wasn't a recent doubt, emerged in the heat of the moment. It was an old stodgy theory, which I never wanted to think about, and that continually tried to erase the rooms of my consciousness.

As other thoughts and feelings ignored, it never disappeared completely and was like a kind of intuitive element that could hit me at times but never came to take root inside me.

However, when I lost my patience with the aristocrat, my locks were destroyed, and that thought, once revealed to me, has continued to simmer in my mind.

I'd hate for something like that to be confirmed, however with all that on the loose between me and Roderich, it was inevitable that it appeared in evidence in front of me and now seeing it in detail, it was scaring me to death how tangible it appeared to be.

It was a simple and overwhelming idea that could be summarized in the following line:

If the mountain under the carpet is visible to the resident of the house, your in-laws won't be able to not notice it.

“Believe me! I have every right possible!” I screamed, clenching with full force the fist that was not encircling his wrist. A dam was opened inside me and I couldn't stop it from overflowing. I had gone too far already. I couldn't run away from that anymore. I had to ask ...! I had .. Urgh! I had to know! “Do you have any idea how I feel when I organize each one of your weddings?!”

Chapter Text

Chapter 11.

“Gilbert...” He took a deep breath.

“It's not a rhetorical question!”

It was done. Time wouldn’t return.

When I have finished screaming that sentence, I began to breathe at an accelerated rate. My last action came from an impulse more than anything and I was still controlling the surge of adrenaline that caused me to throw that phrase out of my mouth.

Slowly, my hand decreased the pressure applied on Roderich’s pulse and began to tremble. We observed each other’s face with maximum concentration and the thin layer of air and space between us, for a moment, turned into an impassable wall.

Suddenly, the cards were on the table, and I wanted to hear his answer as eagerly as wanted to run away from that room to not hear it. Each second of silence was torture and a relief. I don’t know what expression my face adopted at that time, because every ounce of my concentration was focused exclusively on Roderich Eldestein, preventing me from paying attention to myself. My feelings were as vectors going to different directions, which were mixing chaotically, similar to the way dreams and reality mix when we are about to fall asleep. Of everything that went down inside of me, during those quiet moments of waiting, there is only one thing I can guarantee:

I was desperate.

Then, after a multitude of seconds, Roderich spoke.

“Yes.” He answered very calmly and very certain of the meaning of his words, slightly lowering his head. “I know.”

For a moment, I wanted to believe he was responding "I know" to the "It's not a rhetorical question!" part of what I said. I really wanted to wait for the rest of the answer.

However, as I looked at Roderich’s face , I could not escape the harsh and terrible truth. Following my realization of what he had just admitted, the temperature of my body went lower and lower. My stomach dropped as I noticed this was real. My heart was getting more painful and heavy as I assimilated the meaning of his admission. He knew. Fuck. He fucking knew .

“Unbelievable. What a joke. During all this time, you ...” I let out a dry laugh, placing a hand on my forehead, with wide eyes and an uneasy smile. That was such a pathetic situation. I was feeling ridiculous. “Roderich, listen.” I sighed deeply. I had no energy left even to fight him. “I want you to go home and, from now on, if there’s any problem related to my work, let your fiancé solve it with me. I need some time to unwind after this.”

That was the moment in which, suddenly and for reasons I couldn’t figure out, Roderich finally began to be affected by our fight.

He started to blink with his eyes filled with an innocent and horribly bewildered light. Looking like a small animal that got separated of the pack and was just waiting for his inevitable sad ending.

“I don’t understand...” he practically whispered.

“Aristocrat, it’s clear that you are just confused.” I explained, struggling to be patient, though, to be honest, I wasn’t stable enough for that. I was feeling awful. I mean, awful.

To best describe my emotions, I was overcome with the contradictory feelings that at that moment I could destroy a wall with my bare hands and also that if I lied down on a couch, I wouldn’t ever get up anymore.

Anyway ... Looking forcibly to the bright side of that, Roderich and I finally were aware about each other’s true feelings. It wasn’t a very pleasant knowledge to have, but the truth is seldom pleasant. The suspense and the mystery came to an end. I could finally admit our problems and work with them internally. I could solve my true issues with the aristocrat. It was painful, but it was also a relief to have an answer to a question, to which I fought for so many years to avoid. It was like pulling a sharp object from my body.

I have said a lot about what I was feeling in general but I haven’t said yet how I was feeling about Roderich.

Surprisingly, my feelings about him weren’t anger or bitterness ... not the main ones, at least.

After my acknowledgment of the truth that I fought so hard to get around, I was acquiring the ability to think more clearly and realize that the reasons that led our conflict were not entirely Roderich’s fault.

It was not like he was a bad person. He was experiencing a difficult period in his life and, by accident, dragging innocent people with him. A person who was in his third marriage in six years, clearly wasn’t in good condition to know how to deal carefully with the feelings of others. Nobody hires the same wedding planner on three occasions over a period of a few years, being aware of his feelings about the organization of your wedding, unless you have serious issues.

I was not condoning Roderich but ... What good would fighting with him bring ? He was more lost than I was.

Urgh. Why does my spirit need to be so noble and complacent? It would be much easier to deal with Roderich Eldestein if I just got mad at him, thinking "God! What an asshole!” and throwing him out of my apartment with great satisfaction. Why did I have to understand what he was going through or worry about his point of view? I feel kind of envious of more selfish and unreasonable people. Being understanding can be a major pain in the ass.

“You are lost in this journey of self discovery of yours or whatever you’re doing…. and I don’t intend to stay in the middle of it or be your outlet,” I admitted, exhausted by pressing the center of my forehead. If we’re going to distance ourselves, I planned to leave at least one last constructive criticism with him. Somebody had to help him to stop the destructive cycle in which he was involved, and as much as I was not in any position to take on this role, I wanted to push Roderich in the right direction. Despite everything, I still cared about that individualistic aristocrat. For this very reason, I put in blunt way, looking into his eyes, very serious, “I'll just advise you to try to consider a bit the feelings of the people around you and stop using them as a test of your hypothesis about love, Eldestein.”

While saying this, I looked at him with such intensity that he stepped back instinctively, as if I had made a move to hit him. Excellent, I was doing that to hit him, indeed, though not in a literal way.

I wouldn’t use codes or niceties. My message would never cause a real impact if I did not push it against him in the harshest way that I could. He needed to understand exactly how he was acting and what the consequences were .

The aristocrat graciously ignored the selfishness of his actions by putting them in logical terms and then contemplating them with emotional detachment. No problem in that. Good for him if he could feel such indifference after the ending of his relationships! As evidenced by " Romeo and Juliet ", this reaction is better than suffering unbearably at the end of each one.

The problem is that that was not how the other parties involved should see their commitment to each other. I bet no one got married or became engaged to Roderich thinking " Let's see if our relationship is convenient enough so that it lasts. If we come to end this marriage, we will seek other people, using different criteria. "

Roderich Eldestein was convinced that being governed by reason was the best attitude in a relationship. While this idea itself was not a problem, the fact that he couldn’t see and therefore did not mind that not everybody thought like him ... That was probably the source of most of his problems.

The rational subterfuges he used to dodge the blame were so convincing that for a long time,  I  had not even considered what happened with his former partners after the divorce. When he explained it, it all seemed so empirical ... I only thought of myself, forced to perform exhausting tasks at each one of his weddings, and thought of the aristocrat, whose high demands could bring him to a solitary end. I had never stopped to think about how hard it must have been the end of their marriage for Tonio and especially for Lizzie.

You see, the concerning thing about that is that my lapse wasn’t merely accidental. The reason I had not thought about this issue was because Roderich formed a perfect line of defense to escape the emotional responsibilities that were present in a relationship. He was so effective in convincing me that a divorce was a unilateral and pragmatic experience because he himself was legitimately convinced of it. To the point of it being necessary for someone to literally yell in his face, word by word, what was wrong with his actions.

These defenses were so strong that even though I was being as straight to the point as possible, his expression still was pretty much puzzled.

“Feelings actually hurt, Roderich.” I said, averting my face to the other side. Fuck, it was so hard to say something like that. My voice was coming out strangled. There was a personal content in those lines that almost forced my throat to close. This opinion was far from impartial. “Just because they don’t hurt you, it doesn’t mean that other people weren’t hurt by them.”

I think he perfectly noticed all the implications of my last sentence, since, after hearing it, he slightly opened his eyes and mouth but didn’t make a single sound.

He couldn’t give me an answer.

For some time, we remained silent. I guess we were waiting for  something  from each other ... Still, no matter how excruciating it was to wait, that "something" did not come from either party.

I bit the inside of my cheek, resigned.

Again, I tried to take the aristocrat to the door and, once again, he pulled my arm tightly and forced me to stop and turn towards him.

He no longer seemed offended or upset. He was just frightened.

“Next time, I'll give you a better payment!” He was quick to inform me in a voice shakenand more loudly than I was used to hear from him. “I will schedule our meeting sooner and…!”

“Roderich, are you listening to what you're saying?!” I exclaimed stunned. “You are talking about your upcoming wedding when you haven’t even married your current boyfriend yet! What's wrong with you?!” In the midst of my anger, I didn’t disguise the horror with which I shot that last question. Noticing it in evidence was a sudden blow to Roderich that severely wounded him.

More than I intended to. I had never seen such an obvious pain in his eyes.

Again, I took a deep breath, sinking my face on my free hand. Shit.

There was no sense in continuing to wound each other. Regardless of what happened, the end was near. He would get married in less than two weeks and my work would be completed. With the right steps , we could still end our relationship on good terms.

We kept a good relationship for years. It would be unbearable to shut it down that way.

With that in mind, I gathered up all my remaining forces and used it to be as patient as possible:

“Listen here, young lord, I can’t handle this impossible quest of yours anymore. Maybe it would be better for us to be apart from each other for a while.” He would say something however I interrupted him first, informing with an empty smile. “Don’t worry. Nothing will change with regarding the planning of your wedding. It will be the best wedding organized by me. Try to take advantage of it and start your new marriage to Vash from a different perspective than the previous ones. He is responsible, honest and acts a lot like you.You will be ...” I bit my lower lip with force and corrected my words “…you are a great couple.”

Once again, I tried to carry him to my door and again my arm was grabbed. That angered me a LOT. I thought Roderich would insist in his absurd arguments about "professionalism" so I turned to his side, with extreme impatience, about to yell at him.

However, before I could do that, my mouth got shut.

My little height difference with Roderich was never as evident as at that moment. His eyes were just below mine and so close that I could physically feel the pressure of them. With his face so close to mine, he was exposing a portion of their unexpectedly vulnerable side through his paled face, his troubled breathing, that peculiar glow that rarely troubled his eyes...

When had he come so close to me?

I was so immersed in that figure in front of me that I didn’t even react when he grabbed the collar of my shirt. I assumed he would just scream again in my face and was totally ready for it. But when he pulled me down, his motion was not violent or uncertain.

He tilted his head to the side and in a fluid and precise movement, he brought me closer until my lips met with his.

My body received too much information at once. The texture of Roderich's lips, the taste of coffee and chocolate reminiscent in his mouth, the inhalations and exhalations of his breath.

This series of sensations translated into an electrical flow so intense running through my body that I was unable to process what was going on and to have another reaction besides putting my arms around his waist to support myself because… if it’s not too obvious already - which is possible given that I did not want to make it obvious even to myself, and always struggled to run away, ignore, dodge, disregard this fact ... I was completely, hopelessly in love with Roderich Eldestein.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12.

I was in love with Roderich.

Yeah, love. I mean this.

I was head over wheels about him.

I loved him so, so, so much – too much for my own good maybe – and suddenly feelings I spent almost six years seeking to erase and avoid because they were too painful, hit me with full force.

He was kissing me. No, get this: he was kissing me. He was ACTUALLY kissing me. The awareness of this action was like a black hole inside me, sucking all my soul, concentration and senses.

Roderich was pressing his mouth against mine with an inexplicable despair. Frowning with eyes firmly shut, as if he was doing his best to not miss a single sensation of that contact between us. He pressed one of his hands on my shirt and put the other behind the back of my neck and the feeling of it running up and down my nape caused the most dangerously good shivers I had ever experienced in all my life.

Part of me was screaming how wrong all of this was and another part was disoriented with how right it felt. A sense of "finally" seemed to be emanating from every core of my body, like a substance pulsing through my veins. Years of hidden lines, twists and denial didn't prevent us from getting there and we finally were kissing. God, I was almost going crazy, wanting this moment.

Even to someone with a spirit as noble as mine, making the necessary preparations so that the person you're in love with will be happy forever with another one... It fucking hurts. I didn't want to admit how I felt about Roderich, although it was obvious to everyone around me because I've always been aware that it was a feeling with no chances of return. My greatest comfort was my that I would make the person that I loved happy, planning a great wedding for him.

Unconsciously, I worked more and better to plan his parties than I did in any other events. It was like a defense mechanism. In a silent portion of my mind, resided the whispered thought that if I organized a perfect wedding for Roderich, this would be a great parting gift for us and, at the same time, a way to let reality hit me. After all, in a perfect wedding party, you are able to see the promises of eternal love between the newlyweds, to feel the connection between them... and I needed to have it rubbed in my face to get over what I felt for that aristocrat.

My affection for Roderich was extremely simple and spontaneous. This is why it was so hard to escape from it. Any fire would have gone out with the constant buckets of cold water that were his weddings. Unfortunately, what I felt was not hot and vulnerable like fire. It was solid as a stubborn stone. I did not love the Roderich for specific reasons, neither did I have clear or detailed expectations about our future. I don't know when or how I had begun to love him and he definitely was not my image of an ideal partner.

However, I had an inclination and predisposition to memorize the smallest details that built the complex human being he was, to laugh by his side and feel at ease in his presence and before I even knew it, deep feelings had been developed within me, for that individual with all his faults and qualities, foibles and quirks, dreams and fears. It wasn't something I controlled, wanted or planned. My feelings came to me as easily and naturally as my breath.

I mean, fuck, there were times I couldn't even look directly at Roderich without feeling such a strong affection compressing my heart, that I felt like it caused a strange effect on my face and tried many times to disguise it looking to anywhere eles but him. I showed my dumbest smiles when Roderich was around. He turned me into one of those sentimental idiots who wake up and go to sleep with one specific person in mind.

In short, from the beginning I was totally screwed, and now I was more screwed than ever.

I didn't match Roderich's motions, although the movements of his mouth on mine were demanding and greedy. However, I also couldn't push him away from me because I just didn't have the will left for it.

I was crazy about Roderich for years and now he was kissing me as if this was the last kiss of our lives. I'm sorry, okay?! In spite of everything, I am human! There was no way I would take the initiative to push him away, so I closed my eyes and held my breath, pressing his body against mine, in a frightened instinct.

I was paralyzed. I couldn't return Roderich's kiss or refuse it, which left me with no choice but to stay still, completely petrified, while my heart beat heavily against my chest.

After the longest forty seconds of my entire existence, we finally reached a certain point in which Roderich had to pull away to get his breath. That was the opportunity I'd been waiting to escape. I tried to take a step back and distance myself from Roderich but he stopped me and practically growled, with his mouth open over mine and his lips dangerously close to touching my own in the pronunciation of each letter:

“Sleep with me.”

…

I never, never, never, never would have imagined that after an experience like that, the first words of Roderich would be these.

“…What?!” I shouted mortified.

“Sleep with me,” he insisted, putting both hands on my face. There was not even a hint of hesitation or irony in his countenance.

My heart was racing like crazy. My series of heartbeats was so fast I could feel it in my neck. Like a drum. Like a drum. Like a drum.

Before me was the person with whom I was madly in love for years. He was right in front of me with his lips intentionally within my reach, practically demanding that I devour him.

If only the situation was a little bit simpler… If I could just get overwhelmed by my desire, I would probably feel the need of giving him what he asked from me. I would push him down on my couch, put my hands possessively on his hips and kiss him deeply and desperately, stealing all the air from his lungs. Let's just say what I would do with him would be so intense that the term "sleep" would be a terrible understatement to describe our whole experience. “Screw the consequences” or something along those lines. Six years is such an awfully long amount of time.

However, what I felt for Roderich was not a plain “need”. I loved him. For real. And so when he made me this request, instead of a raw, wild, intense desire, I felt ... sadness.

Come on, I wasn't stupid. I was aware that he was just trying to sleep with me because he was confused, frightened and needy with all that was happening. He didn't want to lose the comfortable stability of my presence in his life and sought to use his ultimate means to keep me. This is why, I was devastated. Because it was terrible to realize that even though physically I was closer to the Roderich than I ever been, he remained unreachable for me.

The ring in his hand was the proof of that.

The ring! Suddenly, the feel of the gold and diamond, hard and cold against my skin, reminded me of how insensitive the Roderich was being at that very moment and turned my pain into rage.

How dared he betray someone like Vash? They were literally about to get married! Vash was putting so much effort into that relationship! He didn't deserve to be stabbed in the back like that. Also, what about me?! How could he just treat my feelings with such carelessness? Did he had the slightest notion of how much he was hurting me with that proposal for casual sex?!

Although I loved Roderich, I still could realize that he was being a big asshole and if he thought I wouldn't confront him about that, he was very mistaken.

“Roderich, you…! Shit, Roderich!” I pulled back, pushing him by the shoulders and staring at him with a strong mixture of astonishment and indignation. “You're engaged! How can you ask me something like that?! Vash doesn't deserve what you're doing! I made the preparations your wedding, remember?! I know the investment that he made! I know how hard he tries to be romantic, even if you both are terrible at it! I won't allow you to cheat a guy like him, Eldestein!”

“So you're seriously saying I should end my upcoming marriage for a single night of fun?” He put his hands on his hips and sounded quite offended. For the first time in all those years, I didn't find his shameless behaviour funny. “Do you want me to cancel all of my plans for a few hours of…?”

No no no no. He HAD TO BE JOKING.

“No! That's not what I want! Didn't you hear anything I was SCREAMING IN YOUR FACE?!” at this point, I found myself equally perplexed and angry with him.

ARGH. It was impossible to decide if I should feel more upset or shocked with his interpretation of my words. I was yelling and yet he still wasn't listening! Having to hear his completely wrong translations of what I was saying was so frustrating! How could he shape my words like that to accommodate them to what was convenient to him?! For fuck’s sake. Was he claiming that he still didn't know what I wanted?! Well then! I would say EXACTLY what I wanted this time!

“Roderich, I want you to have a fantastic wedding and find whatever is the object of your eternal search in Vash! I want to hear from you, in five years, and find out that you are still happy with the person you have chosen as your husband! I want you to become a funny reminder of the old days! I don't want to be your regretful night!”

He opened his mouth to retort but I got ahead of him, not having any patience left to keep dodging the truth with euphemisms, excuses and rationalizations:

“Yes, a ‘regretful night’. Let's be honest, aristocrat. I don't fit in any of your criteria.” As I said it, I was smiling with aggressive scorn, but I guess my true feelings were exposed at the time. After all, my vision was blurred because of the tears that were beginning to pile up and burn in my eyes. Argh. That was just what I needed. I probably looked like a complete idiot. “I don't plan to let you live off my money, flatter you all the time or change my personality to endear myself to you. I will never hesitate to confront you when you do something wrong and I will always be someone with a personality opposite to yours. HA! Could I be any further from the image of convenience and comfort you've been looking for? We both know very well that the only reason why you're acting this way now is because you're insecure and you want to follow the easiest escape route. For you, it may be convenient to put me in that position, young lord, but I'm at my limit. I'm not gonna be your emotional steppe anymore. Honestly, I just want you to get married and learn to be content with what you already have.” I sighed, clenched my fists and finally added with difficulty, “Not everyone has the good fortune to be with the people they want, Eldestein. Have a fantastic and lasting marriage with your boyfriend. Pretend I don't exist and that none of this happened.”

"Not everyone has the good fortune to be with the people they want" ... Well, that was a statement that I could make with confidence.

Speaking it required an additional effort on my part, however I hoped that was the reality check that would teach a lesson to Roderich permanently.

As for the rest of what I said, I don't think there is anything to be explained.

I couldn't know for sure if Roderich would marry again or not but that would be the last wedding I would plan for him.

I would distance myself from him, end my work and that was it. From that point, our paths would be completely separated.

It would be the best for everyone involved.

Strangely, at hearing my request, he showed a softer and quieter reaction than I expected. He was not surprised, angry or saddened by what I said. He just shrugged his shoulders and gave a slightly more serious and dark touch to his features, with the tolerable level of disappointment of a person finding out that their favorite cereal is no longer being produced. His following words were also not quite what I had in mind.

“No, you are not being sincere,” he said with an low voice and lowered eyes. “This is not what you reallywant.”

I started laughing dryly and raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘Since-when-did-you-become-the-owner-of-truth-and-who-was-dumb-enough-to-give-you-this-title-Rod?’. I wanted to deny what he said. However when I paid more attention to his expression, I noticed that it wouldn't do any good. By the look of things, Roderich had been fully aware of my feelings for a very long time.

“Indeed.” I sighed, covering my eyes with one hand and wiping away the salty drops of them with the other. “Do you know what I want?” I said, changing the direction of my plans. “I want you to get completely out from your wedding planning, Roderich, and never again see you in my office, asking me to be your wedding planner. Don't come near me anymore, right? Seriously.”

“You can't quit!” He exclaimed actually appalled by my decision. “That would be very unprofessional of you!”

“Professionalism?!” I got fired up. “Roderich Eldestein, we are so far from the line of professionalism that we would need an airplane to get there!” I shouted, making a rather energetic gesture with my extended arm and pointing to the wall to my right, as if I was pointing to our metaphorical transportation.

“Gilbert…”

When I started to notice some indications of pity, fucking pity, in the way he said my name, despite the burning anger that I was expressing at him, I concluded that I couldn't bear one more second of that discussion.

“I'm going to ask my secretary to deal with transferring your wedding planning,” I reported in more professional tone. “If you want to sue me, send a message for her, and I'll talk to my lawyer.”

This time, I didn't have to take him to the door. I walked over there and just waited. He only had to lay eyes on my face to know that I wouldn't stand another resistance on his part. Not that it would take me to the top of my fury or something. It would simply destroy me inside. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was kinda humiliating convincing Roderich Eldestein to leave my house, not out of intimidation by my authority or fear of my retaliation but because he didn't want to hurt my fragile feelings.

As he passed through my door and stood in the hallway, there was a brief moment of fear, doubt and silence between us, which prevented me from closing it immediately.

When we locked our eyes on each other, anxious for different reasons, I was overcome by the painful realization that ‘Wow, this really is a typical final farewell scene’ and so I had a momentary difficulty in concluding that moment. The realization that this was the last time I would shut my door on Roderich stopped me in the middle of this motion, prolonging the silent scene that was the closure of our relationship.

That was unavoidable though.

“Farewell, young lord.”

The moment I locked the door, my knees lost their strength and I fell onto the floor. I looked at my hands and noticed that they were shaking. My heart was beating so hard I could feel its pulsation in all major areas of my body. As I recall, the worst of all was the feeling in my chest. This point was kind of a pain epicenter. I had the physical sensation that someone had shot a harpoon through my back that had hit a mark in my body near my left lung.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I sank my face in my hands and began to inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth. Inhale through the nose.... and exhale through the mouth... That was not helping though. My breathing easily lost its pacing and with that I was only adding "shortness of breath" to my problems while my lungs seemed to be too heavy with or without air.

I didn't even get the comfort of crying.

I looked at my ceiling for a good amount of time and lay down on the floor of my kitchen, consumed by an unimaginable fatigue. I didn't cry. On the other hand, I couldn't escape from my restlessness and anxiety or from thoughts that they generated. I couldn't ignore my gloomy doubts, alarming predictions and, worst of all, unbearable happy memories of a time that wouldn't return, feeling the consequent physical and inflamed pain they inflicted on my chest.

Then, I put my hands over my ribs and tried concentrate on how my diaphragm filled and emptied of air. Filled and emptied... Filled… and emptied... Repeatedly.... I stared at the ceiling, watched every insignificant detail in it and no tears came down my face in all this time. That darkness and that weight were trapped inside me, hitting my internal organs in violent blows.

Chapter Text

Chapter 13.

On the day right after my fight with Roderich, I resorted to calling in a friend who owed me some favours and transferring the wedding organization to her. She was more than pleased to accept my offer. After all, everything was almost ready and she still would receive the largest percentage of my payment. Who would refuse such a deal? Giving her that work was like if I asked “Do you want some money?” and started throwing gold at her.

Anyway, during the transfer, I also lent her the phone I used for work. There were professional motives for it, such as giving her all my contacts in the quickest way, but my main motive for it was the thought that if Roderich was even planning to call me to discuss this change, his plans would fail instantly.

I had nothing left to discuss with him.

No one reproached my decision to transfer everything related to Roderich's wedding to another wedding planner at the very last minute, which was quite surprising. On the contrary! People actually spent the whole time visiting me, sending me candies and little gifts, recommending help groups to overcome relationships and offering their help to find dates for me.

Urgh. To be honest, in some ways, this collective pity towards me was worse than dealing with their anger would be.

The two weeks leading up to Roderich's wedding day were the longest and most emotionally draining of my life and, during the second week, since I couldn't find any strength or motivation to work, I decided to take a break and stay in my apartment, trying to enjoy the good things of the daily life of a bachelor.

You know, having some good time and space for myself, I could do lots of cool stuff like play video games all day, organize my food pyramid by pizza flavors and watch all the porn I wanted. Re-read all the works of Jane Austen and all volumes of Harry Potter. Watch the Marvel movies and complain about the lack of diversity in them.

After all, being alone could be pretty sweet and being without demanding aristocrats was the greatest thing ever. Yeah, totally.

With this mindset, I even organized a special schedule specifically for the day of Roderich’s wedding.

To start, in the morning, I would ask for some pancakes and watch the three first X-Men movies with one of the guys my co-workers tried to set me up with. I didn't intend to have any sort romantic relationship with him, or anyone really, for a long while, but you know what? Nothing prevented me from becoming friends with this person of exquisite taste who was (understandably) interested in me.

If later on our relationship, we happened to fall in love and all that jazz, great! Otherwise, he would be another addition to my group of friends and that... Heck, that wasn't bad at all! You know the saying! The more, the merrier!There didn’t seem to be any downside either way. I would either obtain a boyfriend or a friend. That's why I happily agreed to meet the guy!

Ha! That was a win-win scenario!

Continuing with my plan, in the afternoon I would say goodbye to my supposed “date” and go to the theater to watch a children's movie with Lud and his wife. I thought some time among family would do me good.

Finally, at night, I would drink until I completely lost touch with reality. Roderich's wedding would be happening at that moment and I would not have to deal with the complicated, annoying feelings that it brought out in me if I was basically unconscious. Also, I would drag Francis with me so, if by any chance I drunk-called Roderich in the middle of the party, we'd just laugh together about what happened,suppressing the drama with humor.

As you see, my schedule was brilliantly well-made and it looked foolproof.

On that specific morning of the big day, I cleaned up my living room and called the place that sold the best pancakes in town, preparing everything for the best day ever. Now I just had to wait for that guy that one of my photographers had set me up with.

All seemed to be going well, until the intercom buzz much earlier than I anticipated.

Way earlier.

“Yes?”

“A gentleman says he came to visit you, Mr. Beilschmidt.”

I found that odd, of course.

When I heard the intercom noise at that time of the morning, I just assumed that my pancakes had arrived. After all, this was the only reasonable explanation for why it would be buzzing so early.

‘A gentleman’, huh? My doorman meant to say… My guest? The one who was supposed to arrive MORE THAN AN HOUR later?

“Oh, you can let him up,” I managed to answer, mostly on standby, and turned off my intercom in the same way. Agitated, I started to mess up my hair with one of my hands and felt my eyebrows slightly frown with concern.

For a first meeting, it was a bit alarming to see my guest arriving that early.

I know, I know! It would be very strict on my part to require from ordinary individuals a punctuality as precise as mine, but hold on. We had agreed that the guy would arrive an hour and a half later!

I repeat: An hour and a half.

I understand that there are people who prefer to come too early rather than too late, however as unacceptable (if not more than unacceptable) than the attitude of a guest who only appears at the end of the party!

Sometimes when we want to avoid a delay, we can arrive ten minutes early. Half-hour earlier on more important occasions! But an hour and a half?! It's not like he was going to a Paul McCartney concert, man. There was no need for him to come that early.

I was starting to wonder how this ‘date’ would go.

Now, don't get me wrong. This whole thing of having to wait a certain number of hours to call someone, a certain number of dates to kiss them and another amount of time to sleep with them… It's a stupid and unnecessary formula I never bothered to follow. I am not one of those idiots who enjoy playing games in a relationship. I wouldn't think a guy is too desperate because he answered my message right away or judge a person because they wanted to have sex on the first or hundredth date.

Still, when someone you don't know, comes waaaay before the established time to your house, without even warning you, much less asking, about his change of plans, inevitably, you start to get worried. It's not a dating rule or some bullshit like that. It's a matter of personal safety! More precisely, a matter of ‘what-type-of-person-I'm-letting-into-my-house.’

I mean, I watched Investigation Discovery enough to detect some pretty familiar alarming signs there!

…

Urgh. My mind seriously went there?

Heck, what was wrong with me?

Without even seeing the face of my suitor, I was already comparing him to a serial-killer?? For real??? What the actual fuck. I don't remember being that picky and harsh with my former dates! Seriously! Where did that defensiveness came from? I'm pretty sure I wasn't like that before.

Did my fantastic romantic skills get slightly rusty? I suppose that would make some sense.

After all, how long had it been since the last time I went on a date? About six, seven years?

… Ah.

…

So that was it.

The light of clarification came over me and made me extremely angry with myself.

Well, shit.

Fucking hell.

I was sabotaging myself, wasn't I?

Just because my visitor was not the person I truly wanted to spent time with, I was already looking for a reason to dismiss him, even if this brought me no practical benefit. I shouldn't sacrifice something tangible for an impossible dream and I knew all that. However, how could I convince my goddamn subconscious of it?

The stupidest part of my brain refused to recognize the fact that if I wanted to find love, it was necessary to meet new people. I had no reason to remain stuck in the past; putting traps ahead of myself to ruin my own plans for the future. In fact, if I really had to make comparisons with the past, the future should be in the lead, considering that I didn't have the gift of clairvoyance to see how my future would go, but I had enough memory to remember how well things turned out the last time I clung to the past.

Well… Now that I knew what was happening to me, I would have to convince myself of the importance of being cautious about it on a deeper level, which was the hardest part, to be honest. Seeing the danger was something I always did extremely quickly. Convincing myself that such danger was super-hyper-mega-concerning and that I should run away as fast as I could? Not as much.

Since there was no time for a hypnosis session to find and fight my inner demons because my guest was already coming, I just quickly slapped both of my cheeks at the same time to wake me up from my delusions, reprimanding that little voice inside of me that said "Maybe this date will end up pretty bad! Perhaps none of your dates will ever go well! Why even trying dating if the person you want is not ...? ". Seriously, that part of my brain could shut the fuck up and be quiet in its corner. My awesome self was far above this type of malignant autosuggestion. I would not spoil a date/meeting that hadn't even started.

When the doorbell rang, I made a conscious effort to relax and not allow myself to be affected by exaggerated fears. Maybe a miscommunication happened. My photographer could have told the wrong time to one of us. Or maybe there was an emergency. Maybe my guest had an appointment and arrived earlier because he also would have to leave earlier than planned. Maybe he was in the area for some other reason and my place just happened to be along his way. Either way, I didn't have a solid rational reason to spoil the prospect of a date and/or meeting that hadn't even started.

As a proof of my determination to myself, I opened the door without even verifying the appearance of my visitor through the peephole, to not be influenced by previous suspicions.

I immediately filled my face with energy and charisma while silently vowing that if I got killed by a serial killer, my tormented spirit would haunt my photographer and his three next generations.

“Hey! You arrived earlier than I expe—!” I said to my guest while opening the door.

However, as soon as I saw my visitor, I froze and my smile was dismantled immediately.

The so-called ‘gentleman’ was not a strange sight for me. By ‘strange sight’, I am not referring to a ‘weird sight’, but an ‘unknown sight’. That person wasn't in any way strange to me.

Ha! On the contrary! I was waaay too familiarized with that non-metaphorical face of indifference.

Just ahead of me, was Roderich Edelstein, the guy I decided to avoid for the rest of my life. Yep, Roderich Eldestein. The guy who had ignored my feelings for approximately six years. The guy who would get married that night, in a magnificent party that I had planned. Roderich Eldestein, the guy who should seek some counseling about his love life as soon as possible, for his own good. Roderich Eldestein… The guy I was madly, hopelessly in love with.

NO!

Damnit, damnit!

That shouldn't be happening!!

Oh, crap!

I closed my eyes tightly and slowly reopened them, hoping that the image would disappear the same way a mirage would vanish in the desert but, of course, it didn't fade because I wasn't in a nightmare.

Damn, a nightmare would be better than this awful situation.

“Were you waiting for someone else?” Roderich asked, raising an eyebrow. His eyes had the audacity to transmit a certain irritability.

“That is none of your business,” was all I had to say. I already had a foot inside my house, about to close the door in his face. The faster I ended our talk, the easier it would be to dismiss it as a mere passing illusion. “Goodbye, Roderich.”

How to describe my feelings at that moment? Hmm, let's see… Think of my relationship with Roderich as a timed bomb that exploded on the night of our fight, alright? You know, the biggest problem with a timed bomb is the explosion’s imminent approach and all the possibilities of causalities and destruction that it could bring. However, once it occurs, the damage is done, right? Boom and over. No one would expect a second explosion in the destroyed parts of a bomb already used, one week after its explosion! That would be completely absurd!

I had put a definitive end to my relationship with Roderich. He should not be there.

I had to kick him out, close the apartment door, and convince my mind to erase the last minutes of its record.

‘It's okay, it's cool. Pretend that never happened, pretend that never happened, pretend that never happened….’, I kept repeating to myself in thoughts, sorta like a child struggling to convince themselves that the monster in their closet is not real.

I was so, so determined to finish that conversation the moment it started, that it came as a huge shock to me how equally determined Roderich was to continue it.

“Can't you allow me to have an opportunity to express myself?!” He replied more aggressively than I would have predicted, leaving me stunned for a moment. He took advantage of my distraction to try to force his way into my apartment and my reflexes were not fast enough to allow me to close the door before he got inside. The only way I could block his passage was the good ol' ‘you will have pass over my body first’.

I barely could block him though because I was in a pretty awkward position. I just put myself between the generous opening of my door and Roderich, holding onto the door and the wall to block all the space that I could with my extended arms. I never, ever imagined that Roderich would physically challenge me just so we could talk!

Come on! What the hell he was trying to achieve?! “OPPORTUNITY OF EXPRESSING MYSELF"?! What a joke!

“No, I can't allow!” was all I could say while I was applying efforts on pushing his arm away from my door.

“That's very unkind of you!” protested Mr. Kindness, while still striving to break into my house. “I didn't come all the way here to be expelled this way!”

“You came here out of your own stubbornness!” I made a point of stating this, putting in this simple line that I growled, all the anger I had accumulated in recent days. “I told you I never wanted to see you again in my office, asking me to talk about your marria…!”

The rest of this sentence was swallowed down my throat when an angry flash lit up Roderich's eyes and he abruptly raised his hand, putting so much power into this movement that for a second, I thought that he was about to give me a slap. A hard slap, mind you.

There are certain moments in the life of a human being in which they are driven purely by instinct and this may result in a reaction that they never conceived they would have.

When in danger, for example, there are people who run, people who scream, people who get paralyzed by fear and people who act calmly and coolly. The only thing common to all of these people, I think, would be the way they make these decisions: on automatic. Without thinking too much about it.

Similarly, when I noticed Roderich’s hand come with all its momentum right in my face, I was not able to think or control my actions.

Instinctively, I closed my eyes and waited for the blow…

… that never came.

Little by little, I opened my eyes, noticing that an irregular shape was right before me. The more the shape gained contours, the higher my confusion level rose.

Finally, realizing what I was seeing did not clarify anything. In fact, my doubts extended to infinity and beyond.

A hand was in front of me. A hand without a ring. A right hand without a ring.

“Huh?” the arms I was using to protect the entrance of my apartment fell down along with all my other defenses.

Taking advantage of this, Roderich walked past me and stood in my kitchen with arms crossed.

“We're not in your office, I didn't come here to hire you as my wedding planner and I don't intend to let myself be expelled or have my feelings ignored again,” he announced. I was hopelessly divided between anger and amazement at the confidence level that he was emanating.

“Feelings ignored?” I laughed contemptuously. “You?”

A peculiar glow passed quickly through his icy irises, but he didn't show any other sign of shock and could immediately retort:

“Well, according to my recollection of the facts, you were not the one who had all his opinions discarded and classified as a mere act of confusion,” he pointed out in accusatory tone.

Oh no. I wouldn't stand himvtransferring the blame to me.

“Don't try to play the victim, Edelstein,” I cut in impatiently.

“Oh, I'm certainly not a victim, Gilbert Beilschmidt,” he quickly agreed. “However, if you think you are the only person who was affected by what happened on that night and in all these years, you're deeply mistaken.”

Oh yeah. Because it was sooo painful for Roderich keep using my feelings to be incessantly pampered and to force me to work a lot harder than I should! Poor unfortunate soul! How had people not created a statue in honor of this martyr of mankind???

“Oh, really?” I arched an eyebrow and let out an aggressive laugh, putting my hands over my hips and lifting my chin defiantly. “Can you, please, tell me how this affected you?!”

I was the one who threw the question at him but I could already see the next scene play in my head in live, in color, in 3D and with a soundtrack by Adele. Roderich would surely complain about how difficult it was to support my lack of professionalism in all these years, on the nuisance caused by the sudden change of his wedding planner and would, of course, talk about the dinner I almost ruined a few nights ago. He would complain of my bad behavior as his employee, and about all of the stuff I let in his apartment during my visits to his place.

Very obviously, he would cover me with the complaints of a poor victimized client, completely disregarding my feelings. After all, he liked to act super-professional when it suited him.

So predictable. How annoying. Couldn't he leave already?

He laid eyes on the ground and made a little click with his tongue, seeming a bit distressed.

Then, the show began.

“I broke my engagement with Vash.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 14.

“…”

I honestly can't remember what was the first thought on my mind when he said that. I don't remember if I got to open my mouth to ask a question, if my jaw simply dropped, if I widened my eyes, if I laughed… I don't even remember if I was overcome by skepticism, shock, confusion, anger or another specific feeling. All that comes to my mind when I think about my internal reaction to Roderich's unexpected sentence is a great, great white.

As if my mind went on a pause.

“On the same night we had our fight, I went to his house and we had an important talk.” I remember listening to Roderich say this after a certain amount of time in silence, which could have lasted three seconds or three minutes in my obscured perception. His voice seemed distant, though he was just a few meters away. I do not know if his voice was low or if the sounds were muffled only to me.... “He coped surprisingly well with my decision. Especially for a groom who had his plans canceled after all the preparations for his wedding. Do you know why he reacted so well?”

That question managed to ignite my brain.

Normally, I would have focused on how surreal and absurd Roderich's story sounded and my first reaction probably would have been letting out a shocked ‘Did you seriously break your engagement with Vash?!’. However, this would be my attitude as a wedding planner, a relationship that I no longer had with Eldestein. As Gilbert Beilschmidt, the first thing that occurred to me was entirely a personal anger that I did not restrain for a single second.

“Please, tell me that you're not about to come with some ‘because unlike you, he's so mature and like me and blah, blah, blah’ crap!” I went ahead of him, with a look full of seething anger in a voice laden with a tone of ‘don't-you-dare!’. “Because I swear to God, Roderich, that I have not the slightest drop of patience to…!”

“He told me he was preparing himself for this moment ever since our last dinner.”

An interruption in a moment like that, it would be like throwing gasoline on the fire of my wrath.

However, it was effective in silence me.

I realized that this was an interruption with a different content from the rest of our discussion. That was not a bitter or accusatory comment. Not at all. To be exact, it was a quiet, frightened and visibly hesitating interruption. That's why I paid it so much attention.

Years of interaction with him taught me that the most spontaneous and sincere moments about Roderich's feelings were the mildest and quietest ones.

I saw clearly the effort he put in each one of those words he said so softly. How would I manage to ignore Roderich at a time like this? He was clearly about to tell me something very important.

It was beyond my strength to ignore Roderich when he was like that, even if that so important topic no longer concerned me, considering that I was no longer working for him.

Maybe the experience of his break-up with Vash resulted in some sudden realization about himself, which he wanted to present to me as an apology or as a necessary outburst… I didn't know. Whatever it was, he needed me to hear that and, seeing the degree of importance it had to him, I could not consider doing things any other way.

Because of this, despite knowing that the story had nothing to do with me, I just put my hands on my hips, lowered my head, while raising my eyes, sealed my mouth and, well, I waited.

He sighed and quickly sucked on his lower lip, making it a bit moister.

“According to him, someone would have to be an idiot to look at my face that night we had dinner and not realize that I was in love with you.”

…

…

…

… What?

“What?”

“Which just confirms my opinion that your stupidity is deep and unsolvable,” he added, shaking his head, as if considering me a lost cause.

Wait a moment. What the hell was going on? I… had heard something I could not have heard. It was impossible. I probably didn't hear it right or got confused with the information. Probably there were some bad communication issues on my side. It had to be something like that.

After all, I had heard something too absurd to be real! Ha, ha!

Ha, ha, ha, ha… Ah.

I do not know why I felt the need to laugh. It's not like I was on the mood for a good laugh but still I laughed. I think this need came more as a nervous reflex than anything lese.

“You're…?” I put one hand on the side of my head and dazedly pointed to Roderich with the other. I was complete and intensely lost. “I mean, you were ...? What?”

I mean, that was impossible. It couldn't be.

The only portion of me that still retained some awareness was waiting, just waiting, for the given moment in which the aristocrat would say something like ‘Gilbert, what's that expression on your face? Please, don't tell me you believed such an obvious bluff. Now that I captured your interest, can we deal with professional issues?’. Yep, I was aware that even the young lord would not reach that level of evilness, but… What else could explain what I had heard?

I couldn't even consider the idea that he could proceed with this line of argument, much less that he would end up embarrassed by what he said, since he obviously couldn't have said what I thought he had said or talked about it the way I interpreted it. Heh! Not a chance!

However, defying all my sense of what was real or not, and annihilating all the remains of coherent thought in my mind, when he saw how openly dumbfounded and awestruck I was, Roderich became shy.

SHY.

If I thought that what was happening could not be more surreal, that was the proof that I was completely mistaken. I knew what that annoyed and slightly flushed face meant but I could never imagine that it would come up in this scenario. Roderich was embarrassed. A meteor falling from my roof would have surprised me less.

My mouth went completely dry.

Meanwhile, Roderich crossed and uncrossed his arms over his chest multiple times, unable to pick a position for them. He began to aimlessly walk around my kitchen, with his eyes always fixed at the ground.

“I assumed it wouldn't be very wise to announce the end of my relationship with Vash to you right away,” he broke the silence, striving to sound very composed and sure of himself, for someone who could not speak two words without taking a breath and couldn't stop moving his body or find a fixed spot to stay in the tiny area of my kitchen. “It was honestly tiring to have my opinions so discarded in our last conversation and I decided I wouldn't give any openings for you to suggest that I was ‘acting on impulse!’ and that I would ‘end up reuniting with my fiancé at the very last minute!’. Today is the date I was supposed to get married and here I am, so, no. I'm not changing my mind. Can you hear me now?”

Yep. It's not like I was able to do anything else. My brain was suffering from an overdose of information at the moment and I was still digesting the sentence ‘I ended my engagement with Vash.’

“Uh… Hm.” I was practically scanning the floor of my apartment with my eyes, running my tongue over my lower teeth and feeling the lines of my face twisting in such an indecisive mess, just like the position of Roderich in my kitchen.

Part of me believed that, at any moment, my phone would ring ‘More than a feeling,’ and I would wake up in my bed, with my plans to take alcohol only at night ruined. Man, I would need so much alcohol when I woke up from that crazy dream.

It's weird how I felt I was in a dream, at the same time that I knew that I was more awake than ever. What I can say about it is that I never sympathized so much with the characters of ‘Inception’.

“Wonderful,” he said, seeming pleased with himself.

For some reason, he considered my insecure sounds a cue to speak, and with a more proud, solemn and critical tone, which sounded much more familiar to me.

“Gilbert Beilschmidt, you don't fit in my rational parameters of self-indulgence concerning relationships. You tease me, don't hesitate to fight me when I make mistakes, and have the weirdest sense of fashion. Our personalities are completely different and your profile is in no way compatible with what I would expect from an ideal partner.”

Okay. Now that fit what I knew about Rod but it made no sense with everything he was saying before. Seriously, what the fuck?

What was going on there?! For real! What the fuck, man. It was a false alarm?! Well, that would make way more sense but I really thought that…! Urgh!!

If you're going to insult me, then insult me already! Don't speak in a way that only makes people confused! Inconstancy, thy name is Roderich Eldestein!

“Hold on a second. I thought that you were saying that you ….” feeling lost there, I put my hand over my forehead, noticing that I was frowning by the multiple lines I could feel there.

“I probably acquired these foolish feelings for you at some point during the preparations for my first wedding.” He took a deep breath as he said it and with this single line he managed to drag me again to a most confusing and incomprehensible universe of doubts.

‘Foolish feelings’, he said. That sounded like a confirmation that he was indeed… No! Not a chance! It couldn't be. Still, if that wasn't what he meant, what could he possibly be saying? I had NO IDEA about what was going on there. Heck, I didn't even know what I was supposed to feel about what he was saying! I was so carried away by my shock and confusion that I wasn't in any condition to think about what other emotions Roderich's words aroused in me.

Seeing that I was completely frozen, Roderich continued to talk:

“In the beginning, I couldn't point out why I developed these feelings for you. That didn't make sense. After all, on the surface, we're perfect opposites. However, after thinking for a while about this question, I realized that we're not so incompatible as we might seem.”

…

I wish I could describe my thoughts at this time as a consistent flow of ideas. I wish I could but that's really not possible. I can't show a logical sequence of the processes going on in my mind because there wasn’t one. My brain had completely crashed.

I hope you can content yourself with random pieces of thoughts flying around my mind, such as ‘Am I dreaming?’, ‘Come on! He didn't end his engagement with Vash! That has to be a lie!’, ‘Hey! My feelings for him also started during his first wedding's preparations!’, ‘Breaking up an engagement after all the work we put into it is such a dick move!’, ‘Should I send him away?’, ‘What would have happened if I said to the doorman that he shouldn't be allowed to enter? What was his plan B?’, ‘Should I take seriously what he's saying?’, ‘Damn, I want to kiss him so, so badly that I'm about to punch a wall just to get distracted with the pain.’, ‘I can't let myself get close to him. Like, I SERIOUSLY can't let myself get close to him or God knows what will happen to me.’

“We may have different opinions about many things, but our tastes are still very similar. When I'm with you, I… I feel comfortable.” He shook his head slightly with a small but very important smile on his face. “I feel free and, even though it's quite embarrassing to admit it, I feel truly happy. You always have been aware of my worst sides and I always was conscious of yours. Maybe it’s for this reason that we have so many discussions and tease each other so much. Yet, isn't it strange that we can get along so well with all this bantering and all of our faults?”

To be fair, those last fifteen minutes were way stranger than anything else in my life.

A scared and rational part of me was still in denial. What was happening should be real for all the accounts but, at the same time, it just couldn't be real. Was there another explanation to it?

At that moment, it was as if my brain was solving a Rubik's cube. Rod's words made some sense at the same time they did not make any sense. It's complicated, I know! Heck, how do I know! But that's the truth about my thoughts at that moment.

However, even if my brain was trying to warn me, it was too late to make my overexcited heart understand and it started to get overly happy and attentive to Rod's words.

Because, you see, I could perfectly understand the sensation that Roderich had just described to me.

After all, that was what I felt for him, what I yearned he could feel for me, even knowing that it wouldn't ever happen.

“Huh…” I made an effort to say something but my tongue didn't cooperate. My mouth was hanging open and my bottom lip was moving up and down repeatedly in several attempts to articulate something. Anything!

That was no longer a matter of not knowing what to ask or to say! It was a matter of deciding what to ask or say first!

“Each time you organized my weddings, I felt that our time together was never long enough to satisfy me.” Rod looked at my ceiling, making the end of his fingers touch and slightly moving his body front and backwards. His face looked again very composed as usual but I could see that he was making an effort to keep it like that. “The time passed too fast. There was still so much I wanted to share with you. Thanks to you, you big dummy, I grew discontent with all of my marriages. I started to miss something that I never missed in a relationship. When I looked at this person I had married, I simply couldn't stand the idea of staying all my life with them, when I knew that no one made the time pass as easily as it passed when we were together. Months weren't enough and I think that years wouldn't enough for me to stop longing for your companionship.”

My mind was imploding.

“Er…”

Fortunately, Rod kept talking, not waiting for a better answer on my side, which was good since I was in no conditions to give it to him, anyway.

“At first, my feelings didn't have the current intensity,” he claimed with dull pride, as if he was defending himself from some unfair accusation, but the blush on his face took away any intimidating effect of that expression. “They have evolved over time and became more difficult to manage. Being a perfectly rational individual, I tried to manipulate them in my favor, of course. The problem is that none of my tries to escape from the reality worked. I tried to convince myself that I only wanted your friendship and failed. I tried to convince myself that I just wanted to sleep with you and failed. Finally, when I realized I was destroying my chances to get what I really want, I got scared and realized that my actions were not being as rational as I thought,” he admitted, frowning and lowering the corners of the mouth, displeased to acknowledge his mistake.

The more Roderich explained himself, the more sincere and dangerous he seemed to me. I hoped so much, so much that he was telling the truth.... I was so, so terrified by the possible approach of a rebuttal of everything he had just said.

His words sounded… plausible. That was the thing messing with my head. Had the young lord thrown himself at my arms the moment I opened my door and kissed me so hard that we both ended up in the ground, I would give way less credit to the sincerity of his feelings than I was doing now.

All that moderate discourse, organized and transmitted like a weather forecast hit me way harder because that… that really seemed like the way the aristocrat would make a love confession. I mean, do you see Roderich being like “I love you so much, my dear! I can't hold these feelings anymore! Take me to your chambers!”??? Yeah, neither do I!

If Rod were to confess his feelings for someone, it probably would sound more like …

“There's nothing rational in a course of actions that only caused pain and losses for the many parties involved.”

That was his next line and he came to this conclusion, letting a shadow of regret cover his expression for a moment.

I knew that the pain and losses he mentioned weren't just about us so I soberly lowered my own head.

However, to my surprise, that heavy moment was easily broken. Roderich soon recovered his energy and said with a happy curve to the corners of his mouth and the warmest and softest expression I ever saw in his face, saying…

“What I should have done from the beginning seems so obvious to me now. After all, once we eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth, isn't it? It's impossible that my previous behaviour was the right one. Therefore, I can't deny the unlikely but not impossible conclusion that I will only be content when I finally feel that I properly expressed my feelings for you with all the words I've been holding for all this time. In short, let me say this: I don't want you to be my wedding planner, Gilbert Beilschmidt. That's how I felt for quite some time and I apologize for only being able to admit it now.”

… If I had to point out, I would say that was the precise moment in which my heart, which had spent all this time jumping, as if it was in a trampoline, suddenly felt like it was taking a long fall from an airplane and my whole body went tense in expectation.

“I came to your apartment because I need to know if it's too late for that admission.” As he said it, he finally looked straight at me and I was completely absorbed by what I found within his eyes. A mixture of determination, hope and fear shone in them. “It may be. My personality is not loveable enough to be able to sustain the affection of a person for so long. To be honest, until the night of our fight, I had constant trouble believing that you could really have such feelings for me. It was my constant dilemma. Sometimes I thought I was positive about them, but there was also times in which I saw signs that revealed to me that I was just deluding myself… It was very complicated. There were many times when I reflected on this theme, playing Erik Satie on my piano. I must say that my previous behavior is not as cold as you presume it was. If I had more than vague and questionable suspicions about your feelings for me before that night… Well, I can't ensure that I would accept them, due to my previous set of principles concerning love relationships, but I would never force the painful task of dealing with my weddings, as I ended up doing to you for lack of better judgement. I didn't repeatedly hire you for thinking that you would give me special treatment due to your feelings for me. I hired you again because, at the time, this seemed a perfectly reasonable excuse to meet you again. Honestly, after all these turbulent events, I can hardly believe that your feelings for me, still have the same depth as mine, and I can accept if that is the case, but as I said… I had to try.”

“I can hardly believe….”.

Hardly believe, he said.

I blinked, searching thoroughly for a single hint of irony in his face because… No, that couldn't be serious. He was telling me that he was never sure what I felt for him? Was he telling me that he still didn't really know what I felt for him now?

He always said he didn't really need his glasses but Rod definitely should get a new prescription! It was obvious he was completely blind!

He still had doubts? Was that a joke?!

After all this time, all these problems and all these misunderstandings, Rod came to tell me that HE was the one with doubts about the nature and intensity of my feelings?!

Lord, how dense could a person be???

This complete lack of notion of the young lord saved our relationship.

It reminded me that, despite his monarchical aura, Rod was practically a baby in terms of his abilities to notice another's feelings. A royal baby maybe but still a baby.

Thanks to it, I had a sudden enlightenment about the young lord's motives to act like he did all these years and the Roderich-of-my-memories and the Roderich-that-is-confessing-his-feelings-for-me-right-now began to fall into place as the two completely awkward halves that formed a single individual.

Finally, I could understand that during all this time, I gave way too much credit to Roderich's manipulation skills and not enough credit to his true feelings. He was not using me. He was hiring me and paying a high price for it (in a literal and nonliteral sense), because he was so, so blind that he thought he needed this scheme to stay close to me. He was so clueless about everything that was going on that he actually thought that my feelings could easily disappear a week after our fight and came to my apartment to make a first and last attempt to get together. Because this was the first time he had felt a little confidence in my interest in him.

With that defensive rhetoric, planned and expressed in an emotionless tone, he was broadcasting things that had no practical benefit to him. Mr. Pragmatism was confessing emotions and feelings. That was not logical, practical or convenient for him. Still, he was there.

Then, with the rapid, intense and inevitable fright of a person who steps on the air while going down the stairs, I was overcome by the realization that I had just received a legit declaration of love from Roderich Eldestein and that my concern now wasn’t to question the truth of his feelings, but how to respond to them.

Yep. A love confession. From Roderich Edelstein.

A confession from a guy who six years ago had said that he didn't consider love an essential element in a relationship. A statement from a guy who wanted to marry some dude just because he was rich and stupid, a girl, just because she was his friend, and a third person just because they had “similar natures”.

A confession from someone who was reluctant to even thank me for a small favor in an open manner.

For Roderich, someone whose highest praise were pretty much noncritical comments, to be expressing his feelings with such a rich set of words, in the most direct way possible… That could only mean his emotions were as real as mine.

He liked me. He seriously had it going for me. He was in love with me.

Wow… Wow!

Holy shit! That was not a joke! It was a misunderstanding! It was not a crazy dream!

Rod, that big dummy, had put an end to his engagement with his ex-fiancé and waited a week to visit me because he was afraid that my feelings for him were so easy to overcome, that he would have to resort to an abrupt confession in order to recover them.

Even though there was no guarantee of return feelings on my part, he ended a serious relationship for one that perhaps would never start.

He was prepared to be rejected and came anyway. Because he liked me. A lot.

In conclusion, Rod underestimated my feelings and I underestimated his. That's what caused our conflict. I got angry with Roderich because I thought he was just keeping me by his for the sake of self-indulgence. He was bitter about me because he believed I considered him just a customer.

By trying to avoid our own feelings, we assumed things about each other while trying to disguise the nature of our own feelings and… Well, it was not the best of combinations. Eventually, it resulted in an accumulation of frustrations and misunderstandings, and finally, in our huge fight some nights ago, due to some serious failures of communication.

I still think the biggest fault for all that shit was Rod buuuuuuut….

Hell, in the end, we really walked in circles in those six years.

Now, I could understand that the young lord had not stood beside me and allowed me to enter his person life to use me as an emotional step, in a cold and calculating way. He simply wasn't able to stay away from me or avoid the growth of our bond and emotional connection, even if that was bad news to him. Like me. Believe me when I say that I really get it. I lived all that shit as well.

The difference is that now I knew the reality of what happened between us and the true intensity of his feelings while he still didn't have the slightest notion about mine.

Come on… I maybe didn't make a stoic speech or justify my feelings with syllogisms but it was absurd for me to hear, after six years living in fear that Rod would find out how I really felt about him, that the person who I was crazy in love with still wasn't sure about my feelings.

I mean, give me a break, Rod! The suppliers from my work know about my feelings and you don't?! That was almost infuriating…!

Nah, I couldn't get angry when I looked at his face.

He seemed so nervous and insecure right now. It was as if he was ready for a downright rejection. Seeing him like this, I could only feel a deep affection for him. Really, Rod. You are special in the best and worst possible ways.

After the young lord's confession, it was my turn to repay it.

He talked about his feelings, using so many words, arguments and even a freaking timeline, and I… Now that I think about it, what I said in response to his last approach was basically a "Marry Vash already and stop pestering me!".

Eh, not the best declarations of love. I could do better, I guess.

In fact, I had to do better so that the aristocratic nerd got it into his head once and for all that I was billions of light-years away from indifference to his feelings.

Alright, Gilbert, now this is the time to display your admirable courage. Just say it to him already!

With my head hanging low and a hand behind my neck, I spoke in the most casual voice that was possible for me:

“Roderich Edelstein, you are an idiot in some aspects.”

“I don't understand what you…!”

“I love you, you know.”

“Oh.”

Well, that wasn't embarrassing at all. Very smooth, Gilbert. Super-sexy.

Hey! To give me credit, I think my message perfectly transmitted what I was trying to say since, after receiving it, the young lord blushed in his usual discreet way and began to look at me as if vaguely lost.

“A-Ah. Hm.”

“Done. There you go. I just wanted to make this clear.” I crossed my arms and kept staring at the floor, puffing my cheeks. “I was angry with you, of course. Cheating is not cool. However, you corrected your mistakes on the same day and all that, so I guess it shows your character. People can get carried away in some emotional situations and make mistakes but if you had the guts to admit you were wrong… That's what matters. I was angry with you. I really was. But I never stopped… I mean, I still am…” desperately in love with you. “Uh … er … you know.”

“Oh, heavens.” He sighed, putting a hand over his chest. “Thank goodness.”

Witnessing such a sincere reaction of relief at my words caused an involuntary fluttering in my heart.

But hold on! We could not go into the realm of pink clouds, flowers and butterflies. There was a crucial issue that needed to be resolved and the task of bringing it up was left to me.

“So…” I put my hands in the pockets of my pants and raised my eyes, meeting his. “What do we do now?”

That was the big question.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15.

We stayed in silence, staring awkwardly at each other for a while.

That would be the perfect time to put the sound of crickets in the background. Roderich confessed to me – in the real world, for real, actually happened. – and I confessed my feelings to him in return. Now, neither of us had an idea what to say.

After six years of running away from the subject, we were aware of each other's feelings. Although, we were still justifiably perplexed about what had just happened, there was no secret about this topic anymore. So what now? What should be our next step?

What? Were we supposed to simply run into each other's arms now? Was I supposed to laugh and spin Rod in the air and finish the celebration of our new relationship with a big kiss? Not a chance. This response didn’t fit our personalities at all. We were not at a cheap love comedy.

Make no mistake. That wasn’t about how I was feeling or about what I wanted. I wasn’t even in a cynical mood at the moment. I was really happy. Absurdly happy. I was making a physical and conscious effort to not let the traces of my face lose control and embarrass me with some goofy expression. So how can I explain it…? Hm.

That was actually about timing. Rod and I had denied our feelings for each other for six years and that still had a huge impact on us. I mean, it's not like we didn’t know of their existence. No one is that stupid. However, we had never explicitly talked about them before and we tried to erase them for the longest time in all these years. In my case, I pursued various priorities and occupations to distract myself in order to avoid thinking too hard about it, and, according to Rod’s testimony, he tried to be rational enough to persuade himself that his feelings had other meanings.

That’s why it would be bizarre if we suddenly got mega-comfortable with each other and started to make out in my kitchen. For god’s sakes, until a week ago, I was his wedding planner! A week ago, I was trying really hard to convince him to marry another man, using my professional authority to give my opinion about the matter, and suggesting what would be an ideal waltz for their party. Come on! Give me a break here!

Our feelings weren’t new but their exposition, in turn, was very much so.

Since the history of our relationship could hardly be classified as "normal", we didn’t have many references or directions about the path we should follow. If we had to put it on a time scale, let’s say that my feelings for Roderich and his feelings for me seemed to begin in the Paleolithic period and that our mutual confession would be set close to the time of creation of bluetooth.

It would be ridiculous to expect that our relationship would do such a dramatic jump as that bone that turns into a spaceship on that very strange film about a black monolith.

In the end, obviously, we had to do something about what just happened. We just had to identify first what would be the correct “something to do”.

To my surprise, it was the Roderich that broke the silence and made the first offer.

“Perhaps we should we go to adisco that plays the songs of the eighties and drink some cuba libre while dancing to the hits of 'Flashdance'?”he asked shyly, putting a hand over one of his shoulders and applying more weight on one of his legs standing in a position that unintentionally expressed his high discomfort with this mental picture.

I wasn’t prepared for this response at all. A wave of laughter came so violently to my body that I ended up having to wrap my arms around my upper body to keep a hold of myself, bending over laughing so hard.

“Pffff! Seriously, young lord?!” Man, I was laughing so much I was about to cry. “Are you even trying?!”

“I am trying!” he protested with a slightly red face.

I kept laughing because he was just adorable but I was aware that, yes, he was trying. In his own adorably embarrassing way.

Roderich had broken his engagement very recently. It was extremely unlikely that he was completely unaffected by the circumstances. Sure, he was in love with me – he was in love with me! Wow! Seriously! WOW! – but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel anything at all for Vash. He was engaged to the guy until a week ago. The two of them were childhood friends. There was no way that he was so indifferent to the end of their relationship. He was just trying to keep it cool in front of me and knowing that, I had to give him some roomto breathe instead of being reckless and hurrying things too much. Not to mention that it would be disrespectful to Guillotine if we started dating so casually as soon as they broke up, as if we were together for all those six years and their relationship didn’t even matter to Roderich.

Certainly, they needed time to talk and figure out how to solve some unfinished business between them and that was okay. Even if six years were a long time to wait, we needed to go slow. We could go slow.

Our interactions over the years had been so hurried, intense and full of risks that it would be good to, at last, get to know Rod far from sentimental dilemmas and work problems. To be able to talk about anything with him at the best pace for us, while being open about our feelings.

For me, that was more than enough.

“Here’s my deal for you, Rod,” I said with a smile, making a soothing gesture to him. “No fancy restaurants and no nightclubs. How about we go to a cafe a few blocks from here and talk for the rest of the morning about ANYTHING not related to engagements or weddings?”

His shoulders distinctly relaxed with the perspective of following plans contrary to what he had suggested and he released a deep sigh of relief.

“I don’t object to this proposal.” As he said it, one of the corners of his mouth gently moved, in what would be one of his versions of a smile.

“Great.” I laughed briefly. I was infected by his palpable relief and captivated by that subtle expression of happiness.

So we went out and… Ah! I almost forgot to say! One slip almost ruined that moment.

While taking Roderich to the door of my apartment, I decided to hold his arm and I ended up doing it just as I did two weeks ago in a totally different context because it was totally by instinct. However, when I touched him, I felt the tension caused by this movement and realized in the same second what was going on.

For a second, I felt as if I had accidentally triggered a red button and started to hear the sirens warning of turning it a bomb about to destroy our planet. ‘How did you screw this already, Gilbert? It’s been less than five minutes since we started to go out with Rod! Goddamnit!’ were the first thoughts that occurred to me but then I began to think more clearly about it and I asked myself... Those memories brought by our fight were actually bad to keep in mind?

I mean, what would happen if my fight with Roderich had not reached those proportions? He probably would keep marrying people he didn’t love and accidentally hurting the feelings of all the parties involved. Meanwhile, I would just keep working for him because sometimes I turned 23% less amazing, 10% dumber and 13% more masochistic in my interactions with Rod. It would totally suck.

That fight was important and even if it was a painful memory, it was a good one to keep in mind because of what we learnt from it. Sometimes it’s necessary to discuss hard stuff and have conflicts to figure things out and if there’s mutual respect, this can actually help. In the end, lands where volcanic activity happen are the most fertile of them all.

With this thought in mind, I laughed again and I ran my fingers on his skin until we were holding hands. Then, we looked at our hands together, we looked at each other’s face and we looked at the door.

Considering my usual nonchalance to touching Rod and the fact that, on another occasion, he openly requested me to sleep with him, holding hands should be nothing exceptional, I admit that this was a surprisingly embarrassing moment. Here we were. Nervous as two eleven years old playing truth-or-dare. That wasn’t the first time I held Rod’s hand and definitely would not be the last, yet it was the first time that contact had special meaning and I felt the need to be careful to not ruin the moment by rushing things.

To think we would behave as two teenagers as thirty-and-something years old guys. Man, that was really shameful and corny.

Damn, I was happy.

With a bit of anxiety and hope, we went through the door of my apartment.

You know, I'm not a romantic and I have witnessed too many weddings to remember the details about each one of them but I can assure you that I can vividly remember the moment when Rod and I were walking on the sidewalk and I looked at him and just seeing his expression at that moment, I felt the natural and spontaneous realization ‘you know what? I could spend the rest of my life with this person’ coming to me.

Oh, so that was the feeling .... It was not "melodramatic" or "saccharine" as Rod would call it, but I must admit that it was kinda special. It wasn’t an overwhelming feeling. It was simple, comfortable and good. As I wished our routine would be from that date.

However, I would only consider participating in any marriage involving Roderich in, AT LEAST, a decade. AT LEAST. Even if I would get to be the groom this time. Sorry, Rod. I waited six years. You can wait ten.

((Later, the pancake shop and my photographer angrily called me because there was no one at home when my food and my potential date arrived. The aristocrat just kept calmly drinking his coffee, with a very discreet smile, watching screaming in my phone that more important commitments had appeared and that I couldn’t care less if they never tried to set me up with someone ever again.))