Prussia x Hungary: Liza, Chapter 13

Hi!  Just gonna warn yaa~ Contains some strong language. Nothing you haven't heard before though.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN_
I spent the weekend in the sanctuary of my room, sitting on my bed and writing a letter to my dad in Hungarian.  Well, not really.  I wasn't going to send it.  I just addressed a journal entry to him and told the paper about what had happened this Friday between me and Roderich, and how I was worried for Gilbert's feelings, and how I felt like the cruelest person in the world who didn't want to hurt anyone but still ended up doing so because she was too insecure to know what she actually wanted.  Daddy, what's wrong with me?,  I scribbled dejectedly.  I need you here.  I haven't been the same since you left.
I feared going back to school.  I didn't want to have to leave my room and deal with the problems sitting on my shoulders.  School came, though, because time moves on no matter what.  Roderich held my hand sheepishly, without intertwining his fingers in mine.  I felt like we were our two little former selves playing House on the playground; we didn't know a thing about relationships but just copied what we saw everywhere else.  
Even so, I acted like everything was perfect; I smiled and laughed and pretended like Roderich made me weak in the knees and tingly in my fingers.  The worst part of my day was walking past Gilbert in the halls.  He'd smile at me like he couldn't care less, but then he'd turn his head and I knew he was dying a thousand deaths on the inside, because I was too.
After a few days, I decided that I needed to spend some time with him and let him know that I hadn't completely ditched him from Roderich.  After all, the two hated each other so we never hung out as a group, and I couldn't do anything about that.  I approached Gilbert after class one day and complained to him that my history grades needed help again, and was it possible that he could tutor me this Thursday?  
"Just you?" he asked skeptically.
"Of course—don't be stupid!"  I pouted at him.  "I miss you, you know."  It was the most convincing thing I could say to get him to agree.  

***

On Thursday evening, just as we'd planned, I went over to Gilbert's house with my textbooks and notebooks.  I was very aware that we were alone in his house and undeniably, this was the perfect opportunity for Gil to grill me about Roderich.  I didn't want to hurt his feelings and it was such an uncomfortable topic that I didn't know how I would talk myself out of it.  The best thing I could hope for was that he would somehow forget to mention it.  We sat down at his desk, side-by-side, and I flipped open the textbook.
"Okay, we're about here I think."
"History is boring," Gilbert said immediately, leaning back in his chair and kicking his legs up on the table.  "Let's do something else."
"What are you talking about?  We can't do something else, not when I'm paying you for this."
"You can pay me for something else."
"That's disgusting.  You're so immature," I told him.  I tried to turn my attention to the textbook, but the question was itching on my mind and I dared myself to ask it.  "…What else would you want to do?"
"Lots of things, mein liebe.  But first I want to know something."
"…What?" I asked, feeling the color drain from my face.     
Gilbert rocked his chair back onto two legs.  "Why didn't you tell me you liked Roderich?"
I almost choked on my inhale as he asked me the question I was praying he wouldn't ask.  As he rested back in his chair, he looked at me with an expectant, inviting look on his face.  I cursed bad luck.  How was I supposed to explain my stupid, insecure self to him?   
I sighed shakily, gathering my words and deciding the best way to answer the dreaded question.  "I don't know—you hate him.  I—was afraid to."
"You are afraid of me?"  
"It's not that.  This is getting us nowhere."  I tried to turn back to the textbook but he propped his foot up on my chair so I couldn't move it.  It was clear he wasn't budging on the subject.   
"Do you even like him?" he asked.  I swung my head to look at him fiercely.
"Don't ask me that."
"Do you?"
"Yes—of course I do!  Why wouldn't I?"
He leaned forward to look at me; his deep crimson eyes captivated me and I couldn't escape.  "Because I think the only reason you're going out with him is because of pity."
Annoyance mounted to fury as I heard the words slip from Gilbert's mouth.  My nostrils flared.  "What?!  How can you be so selfish?  This is what makes it hard to be around you!  Just because you don't like Rod doesn't mean I can't."
"Just because he's an arschloch doesn't mean you have to go out with him."
"What are you saying?!  Are you saying I'm too stupid to know how to pick my boyfriends?!"  I wanted to slap him.
"I'm saying he's an arschloch."
"Don't call him that!" I roared.
"Arschloch," Gilbert repeated huskily.  "Your boyfriend's an arschloch."
"I'm leaving," I shouted and went to stand up, but he yanked on my hand and pulled me back into my seat harshly.  "Ow!  That hurt!"
"I'm not done talking to you yet."  His strong fingers strangled my wrist, and I winced in pain.  I pulled at his fingers desperately.    
"What else do you want to know?!  I was afraid—that's it!"
"Afraid of what?!" he demanded.  "Being with me?  Knowing that you'd much rather spend your time with me than your boyfriend?!"
Sweat broke out on my brow.  He was right: completely and utterly right.  I wasn't about to admit it to him though.  "Listen to me, Gil.  I know you think you're just that awesome and everyone wants to constantly be around you, but you might need to get obsessed with someone else besides me!  Why do you want me to spend every last minute of my life with you?!  Roderich needs my attention too!  You're not allowed to take it all for yourself!!"
"I never tried to steal you from him!  I just know that you're unhappy—I'm your friend!"  His red eyes flashed with anger and he grasped my wrist harder.
I wrestled against his strength, hating him more and more, and in that moment I felt like hurting him in the worst way I possibly could.  I wanted to rip his heart out of his chest for torturing me so much.  So I curled back my lips and snarled, "Yes—that's it!  That's exactly it, Gil!  You're my FRIEND!  And that's all you ever will be!  You're just a stupid childhood friend and nothing else, so stop pretending like I'm gonna suddenly dump Roderich an—nnn-aaghh!"  Gilbert's fingernails suddenly dug into my skin and I shrieked at the sharp pain.  "OW!  What is wrong with you?!"   
"I'm JUST a friend?!" he growled.  
"Yes!  For god's sake, you're an idiot!  I'm not just suddenly going to stop loving Roderich because YOU think you're so much more awesome than he is!  I'm not going to just make out with you!  Because I know that's all you want from me!!"
A beat of silence passed between us before Gilbert released my wrist.  His face was completely blanched.  I breathed out as I sat back in my chair numbly.  I didn't realize how hard my heart was pounding until silence settled over the room once again.    
We looked at each other for a few moments, both of us breathing hard and flushed.  I was desperately afraid of what he was going to say to me.  I'd blown up at him.  
At last, he spoke, his voice shaking violently.  "If you say so, yes—all I've wanted out of you for the past ten years is some nice tongue action.  Fuck yes.  You don't mean anything to me besides that."  He laughed half-heartedly.  "If that's the illusion you've created for yourself, than I guess we should all be happy you're with that stuck-up little Austrian who barely touches you.  I suppose you know all about what he thinks about you too.  You know him well, but you don't know me at all, do you?  I guess if a person doesn't mean very much to you, you shouldn't get to know them, right?"  I felt the beginnings of tears prick at the back of my eyes, and my bottom lip wobbled uncontrollably.  Gilbert looked on the verge of shattering into a million pieces.  "I know how much you don't want to be here with me," he said brokenly.  "You can leave.  You're just here for the study skills, which we both know you don't give a shit about."  
I stood up.  "Gil.  I'm…whatever."  I threw on my coat angrily and picked up my books, glaring down at him from where he still sat at the desk.  "I'm not coming for any more study sessions.  Consider this over."
"Looking forward to it, mädchen.  Have fun with Roderich, jah, mein liebe?"
"Don't call me that.  I'm not yours."  I had just slammed his bedroom door on my way out before I burst into uncontrollable, burning tears that didn't stop.  Suddenly I lost all strength in my legs; I stumbled out of his house dizzily, swiping at tears.  Everything had gone wrong, everything I'd hoped wouldn't happen happened, and it was even more horrible than I'd imagined.  Sometimes I hated my life.
It wasn't the first fight Gilbert and I had.  We'd had countless others, starting from the first day we met.  They ranged from spats over who got to be the class line-leader for the day to full-fledged wars with screaming and hitting.  And considering we'd known each other since first-grade, you can imagine how often I came home wishing I'd never met him.  I'd always take him out physically though.  I remember once, the summer before sixth grade, he stuck his ice cream cone in my hair for fun.  I can still hear his annoying little voice in my ear—back then more thickly laced with hints of his German heritage—, chanting relentlessly: Liza has ice cream hair!  Liza is a loser!  I had him wrestled to the ground with his arm pinned behind his back and begging for mercy before his parents came to break us up.
Our latest fight, however, did not involve ice cream or wrestling, and it couldn't be broken up by grown-ups.  I spent a few hours crying into my pillow that night, replaying his disgusted words to me over and over again before I went to sleep with tears drying on my face.  I definitely was a loser.