Chance Encounters [Antonio]

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

Four years before present day:


Gilbert loved his weekends in the city. Where else but New York could one find such a vibrant and varied party scene that ran 24/7? Now a junior at Cornell, Gilbert tried to spend a weekend in the Big Apple at least once a month. There, he'd make the most of those precious forty-eight hours, flitting from bar to bar for as long as his body would let him. There was very little sleep--how could he waste time on something as mundane as sleep when there were places to go and people to meet?

And so it was Sunday morning once again, and Gilbert Beilschmidt was found in his usual café, recharging for the day’s events. The café itself was a beautiful one, far swankier than the ones in Cornell and the architecture (a relic from the the early 1900’s) reminded him of Berlin in its austerity. He could feel the history of the place and the feel of it recharged him as well as any cup of coffee could. But what Gilbert really came in for were the people—the eclectic mix of patrons that frequented the café. The business men and women in suits that cost more than Gilbert’s apartment, the hung over college students comparing their transgressions with a subdued pride, the tourists carrying cameras and a telltale sign of wonder in their eyes, Gilbert loved them all.

He took a sip of his cup of caffeine (there wasn't enough of the other ingredients in it to deserve any other name) and surveyed the girl sitting across from him. She was a pretty little auburn-haired sophomore from NYU, with big blue eyes and a tattoo of ivy that played peek-a-boo from the corner of her plunging neckline. Gilbert took another sip and mentally congratulated himself for catching a beauty like... Jenny? Or was it Jamie? Not that it really mattered, she had been a fun night, but that was it. She looked up at him, blue eyes looking up to him coyly....Nicole?Too late, Gilbert realized that she had been talking the entire time and he had no idea about what. Was there something about cats in there? He nodded and muttered some vague reply before downing the rest of his drink.

“Come on,” he said, gesturing to the door. “I want to hit Jean’s before I head back” He grabbed her hand as she stood, and propelled her to the door. She was talking again, her voice a soothing sort of white noise as they walked. It was only when she stopped suddenly that his attention shifted to her once more. She stood in the doorway, hands were raised as if in apology. “Oh, excuse me, I didn’t see you,” Jennifer (or was it Annie?) said suddenly, sidling around an incoming customer on her way out. Gilbert was pulled out of his stupor just in time to see the man in question respond. Gilbert paled slightly, recognizing that tussled mop of brown hair, those vivacious green eyes, that dumb apologetic smile.

Impossible, after so long, to see that face in a place like this, it had to be a mistake? To run into him here, oceans away from their last meeting, in a veritable sea of humanity? It had to be impossible, right? He remained motionless, frozen in the door, eying this man, this impossibility.


But suddenly a brilliant smile blossomed on his face, transforming his features entirely. “Antonio! You beautiful idiot! What are you doing here?” He exclaimed as he dragged the other man into an exuberant embrace. If there was any doubt in Gilbert's mind about the man's identity, it was gone as his all too familiar scent washed over him. Amazing what the mind remembers, even after all those years.

[Antonio F. Carriedo]

Maps were overrated. So overrated!

… Okay, so maybe there was a reason for maps. A good reason at that. Antonio would readily admit to having gotten lost, woefully lost, more times than he could count. And yet each and every time he got to a new place he smiled and passed on any offered maps to another tourist, didn’t really bother looking at ones for sale. The most he would ever do was look at posted maps in towns or shops – looking for general icons like bathrooms or restaurants.

Maps were nice and probably needed for people that had specific places in mind, specific timeframes in which had to be done. But for someone like Antonio, moving about the planet’s surface with about as much direction as a leaf in a malfunctioning wind tunnel? Nah, he preferred travelling without. It made things a lot more interesting. Run by fate, coincidence, dumb luck – perhaps sometimes not so lucky, if some of his nights spent without a bed said anything – or whatever it may be.

Having gone to his fair share of cities in his five years since he’d begun his traveling – and even before, as his parents had taken him on the occasional business and social trip – it would be wrong to say that he hadn’t ever been in one similar to New York. He’d been to big cities, he’d been to modern cities, and he’d been to big modern cities. But while some were similar to others, there were never two that were exactly alike. Even when compared to the larger metropolis’ of Europe, New York City had a very fast paced feel to it. Everyone had somewhere to be and hadn’t the patience for a casual chat with a stranger. Which was fine enough Antonio supposed, the overall feel of a place didn’t dictate the temperament of everyone there. And it’d give him more excuse to stick to his actual goal.

Ah, but goals and thought required sustenance, didn’t they? He’d decided against trying the breakfast at his hotel the first morning in favor of choosing somewhere to eat while he was out and about. So far all he’d seen were either fancy restaurants or fast food places. Neither seemed especially appealing at that moment in time. While he could consider himself a foodie, five-star joints were often too stuffy when he didn’t have someone else there to talk to, nor did they offer an atmosphere that condoned getting to know those around you. While people did occasionally sit down with fast-food, he didn’t want something heavy or greasy on his stomach so early when he would be walking around all day.

“Ah!” There! What better place to find some directions and interesting small talk than a café? It was the perfect median between the two!

It seemed, however, that today’s term of choice was fate. And it had more for him than some simple small talk with an elderly couple or a weary taxi driver.

In his excitement to have finally found a good place to eat Antonio had perhaps moved a bit too fervently for the door. There was no collision, fortunately, just the momentary surprise of coming face to face with someone when you open a door. “Ah, lo siento,” he apologized, offering an apologetic smile and faint laugh along with a small sidestep to allow the woman out past him.

Hearing his name, Antonio looked up in curious attention. Who here would know-“Gilbert?!” Came out in shock, his expression consisting largely of a shameless open mouth for a moment. The pale shock of hair so close to unnaturally silver, the red eyes, and even more so, the boisterous personality. It most definitely was Gilbert! When it occurred to him fully, finally, Antonio himself smiled. “I could ask you the same thing! It’s been years, Gil!” He laughed, the sound somewhat giddy as he hugged his old friend.

Words: 653

Tags: Gilbert Beilschmidt

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[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

Gilbert echoed the laugh automatically, pulling away to survey the Spaniard as his hands clapped firmly on his friend’s shoulders. His grin widened, if that was even possible. “This is unbelievable! When was the last time we saw each other? We were what? Thirteen? Fourteen? I know we were in Stuttgart around Christmas.” His crimson eyes crinkled at the corners, his entire face smiling at the memory. “We snuck out that bottle of cinnamon schnapps from Vater’s hotel room and watched the Christmas lights.” His chest gave an uncomfortable twist as a second memory resurfaced. Memories of a sleepy blonde, joining the duo on the balcony, stubbornly refusing both the bottles and the bed as he curled up with his older brother under the blanket, his body heavy against Gilbert’s as the boy succumbed to sleep. Gilbert shook his head slightly to dispel the thought and focused his gaze on Antonio, hoping he didn’t notice the slip.

“Come, sit down!” He demanded, gesturing grandly to the table he had just vacated. “What brings you to the States?”


Jessica (or was it Kim?) cleared her throat, eying the pair almost eagerly. Gilbert could certainly understand the interest. Far from the lanky teen Gilbert remembered, Antonio had grown into an athletic young man with a sort of effortless beauty. He looked too good to be wandering around the streets of Manhattan. After another pointed cough Gilbert turned back and gave her a blank look. “Oh, right.” He smirked back at his old friend.  “This is a childhood friend of mine, Antonio,”   he gestured back to the man beside him. “Antonio, this is….” He grimaced slightly, running through a rapid list of names. Debbie? No. Carrie? No. Sally? Nope. Prudence? God no.

Shit.

Gilbert caught the exact moment when Jane (Zoey?) realized the truth. It was not a pretty sight, seeing her face contort in disbelief and disgust at his floundering. “Don’t remember my name?” She snapped tossing her hair to emphasize her point. She reared back and slapped him, her hand contacting with a loud smack! “You are such a jerk, Gilbert! I can’t believe you!”

Gilbert watched her go, hand pressed to his red cheek. Once she stalked off, huffing and bemoaning the state of men in general, he turned to Antonio and shrugged. “Never was good with names,” he admitted dispassionately, pulling his hand away from his welted cheek and dragging Antonio along with him to the table. He plopped his old penpal down onto the chair, before practically dancing over to his own. He leaned back in his chair, his arm slung over the back of it as he smirked back towards Antonio. "So... tell me. What are you doing here?"

[Antonio F. Carriedo]

In the separation, though it be a small one as for now there could be no allowed loss of contact, Antonio was able to get a better look at his friend. Gilbert was right – the last time they had seen each other had probably been in their early teens. Both still in that somewhat awkward phase of limbs and puberty. Somewhat like a colt with limbs too disproportionately long for any sort of pretense of handsomeness. As of now, though, it appeared that he had grown out of it quite nicely. Tall, lean, with more adult features despite the continued wild traits that Antonio could only ever call fascinating, later turning to endearing.

At the mentioned memory Antonio snorted. His shoulders jumped up at the action and genuine amusement of the instantly brought up images. Coughing at the spiced liquid as it went down the back of his throat, simultaneously somehow managing to make it scratch and burn, while also leaving his head light and airy over the course of the night. It had made their laughter and the lights all the more blinding.

“Dios mío, that must have been it. I don’t think I got over that taste for months,” he gave between a few more laughs, both from the memory and the continued excitement of seeing said friend again. Somewhere in the back of his mind perhaps Antonio had hoped that he would run into Gilbert again, but he never would have thought it would be in the U.S.! Perhaps in Germany or other parts of western Europe, but never here.

It appeared Gilbert felt similar. Antontio shrugged off the question easily. He was all too glad to follow Gilbert as he spoke. “Just traveling. Not-” he began, then was interrupted by the clearing of a throat nearby.

Before they could sit and continue to catch up, however, attention was taken elsewhere. Antonio immediately felt some guilt for having been so completely overtaken with their reunion to have forgotten – or rather simply failed to notice in the first place – that Gilbert was not alone. In fact he’d apparently been in the company of the girl that Antonio had run into upon entering. “Sorry,” he gave quietly, waving a little with a second apologetic grin as he was introduced. There would not be a returned introduction for him to be able to further apologize with a proper name, though. Not when in the matter of only a few moments there seemed to be a bit of a blow up between the two companions – including a rather resounding slap to his friend’s cheek! – and the girl was gone.

The entire thing left Antonio with a small case of whiplash. At least that much was obvious by his blinking, head turning between Gilbert and the door through which the unnamed girl had left. “Is she-? Are you-?” He honestly wasn’t quite sure where to begin. Fortunately for his then sluggishly moving brain and mouth connection, Gilbert didn’t seem all too interested in continuing down that line of inquiry. Rather he preferred to sit the both of them down and pick back up on Antonio and his reasons for being in New York.

Which, Antonio supposed, he could oblige easily enough. “You haven’t changed much, have you?” Shaking of his head, a small snort before he went on. “It’s kind of a tradition in my family. Once you’re out of school you travel around for some years. ‘Sow wild outs,’ learn some things about the world before you go back to work.” He shrugged it off, more or less telling the truth. It was the easiest way to answer the question quickly.

He gestured to Gilbert then, a brow raising above his grin. “And what’re you doing here, huh?”

Words: 627

Tags: Gilbert Beilschmidt

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[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

Gilbert laughed at the bemusement on his friend’s face as he raised a hand to gesture a waitress back to the table. She came, eying the two with no little confusion in her eyes—his was not an easily mistaken face, especially after that debacle by the door. The German saw her eyes drift to his cheek, the welt standing all the sharper against his pale cheek and smiled. “It was so good, I couldn’t help coming back,” he said, as though that explained everything. He gestured to the Spaniard with a grin and, once the confused and flushing waitress took his order and melted back into the background, he sat back and focused on those all too familiar emerald eyes.

“What am I doing here, you ask? I’m playing the role of the suave and daring international student," he explained with a grin. The movement pulled on his swelling cheek and he winked roguishly before holding his glass of iced water to the injury. “Well… some days are more suave than others…” He admitted, regarding Antonio thoughtfully.

If it had been anyone but the man before him, Gilbert would probably be subjected to all sorts of demanding questions. After all, Gilbert had been the one to break contact, the one who ducked any and all attempts to meet up again. Gilbert actually felt a rare pang of guilt at the thought of the pain he must have put his best friend through, disappearing with no word or explanation. But what was he supposed to say, how could he have told him about West's arrest? He knew all too well what the Carriedo family thought about mutants. He had seen the thinly veiled looks Antonio’s parents shot at his crimson eyes, his silvery hair, his too pale skin. If they would have found out about West… if Antonio had…. The two of them had never discussed mutants before, had always shied away from that uncomfortable subject. But Gilbert had gotten the impression that Antonio had shared his parents view on the subservient nature of mutants. And while, Antonio was one of the very few people Gilbert truly treasured, when it came down to him or West, well, there really was no choice. Gilbert couldn’t risk attracting any more suspicion or opposition to himself, not while he was busy assembling the pieces of the plan that would one day pave the way to West’s freedom. Still, though Antonio demanded no explanation and Gilbert was not in any position to give him one, not one based on truth at least, he still owed the man something. He leaned forward, still holding the glass to his cheek, his expression surprisingly somber as met Antonio’s gaze.

 “Listen, Toni…. I…” He flushed, a brilliant display of color against the pale canvas of his skin. He looked away and seemed to scowl into the distance.  “I’m sorry about just vanishing like that… things got... complicated in my family. And I just… I lost track of everything…” He turned back to the table, hoping against hope that Antonio wouldn’t pry deeper, would just take his apology at face value.

Gilbert brought his glass down with a purposeful thump, some of the water sloshing out, unnoticed by the German.  “I’ll make it up to you,” he proclaimed loudly, that irascible grin lighting up his face once more.“You’re looking for some wild oats, huh? Who better than me to help you find the best kind of trouble?” He leaned back in his chair, his arms spread out dramatically. “This city is my oyster, I’ll show you the best it has to offer. What do you say?”

[Antonio F. Carriedo]

An automatic response, Antonio turned his head up to smile at the waitress as she approached. Again the expression was leaning towards the apologetic side. “I apologize for the confusion and everything,” he gave her. He leaned his head to the side a little to look up at her as a subconscious sort of attempt to show sincerity. It may have instead portrayed a childish tendency, but it didn’t seem to cause any issues. With just as many smiles and cheer bubbling in his voice Antonio ordered his omelet.

Gilbert was all too happy to continue once the waitress had finished taking Antonio’s order. Antonio had to snort somewhat through his nose at the allusion to what had happened earlier. An international student, huh? Antonio had had his fair share of experiences to know that anything foreign could be met with a variety of responses, some being degrees of allure. It didn’t make one immune to reproach, however.

Foreign student though… It seemed plausible enough for Gilbert, Antonio mused with a small smile. He was certainly outgoing enough to do so with little problem. Had the drive, if necessary, to earn the requirements of it. It was nice to think of, if he was honest. More people getting the opportunity to meet someone like Gilbert in this way. And he had no doubt Gilbert had a hard time getting bored in a place like New York City.

The wavering faintness of Gilbert’s tone brought Antonio back to reality. He frowned somewhat to see his friend suddenly so different from his demeanor just moments before. Once it was made clear as to why Antonio only frowned further. “Gilbert, please, it’s okay! I-please, believe me, I can more than understand a reason like that.” It would… be a lie to say that he hadn’t experienced sadness and confusion to have lost contact with someone he had been so close to. Not heard from him out of nowhere with not a single clue as to why. There had been his time of wondering if there was something he had done to bring this on. A stupid misplaced comment that he couldn’t honestly say had no chance of happening, knowing him. After a time, though… He had fallen on his own rough times that made the upkeep of old connections… difficult.

No. Seeing Gilbert know, Antonio couldn’t feel much bitterness towards his old friend. He was always a bit of a stupid optimist, after all. Somewhere in him he had always hoped that out of nowhere Gilbert would just appear back in his life. And here he was! Back and as ready for trouble as ever. Antonio couldn’t help but laugh, the amused, touched sort of laughter where he curled forward a little under the force of it. “There’s no way I could say no to an offer like that,” he got out as he straightened up.

Words: 483

Tags: Gilbert Beilschmidt

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[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

He should have known apologies were unnecessary. Antonio had never been the kind for tearful emotional scenes, indeed it was one of the reasons he and Gilbert had been such good friends. Both of them had seen no need for melodrama, for tears, not when there was so much to do, to experience. Who wanted arguments when the world unfurled itself before them full of adventure? In Antonio, he had found a willing companion to share in the grand experience of life as a child, and now, it seemed, they were going to have a second chance to do so.

Gilbert realized that he was playing with fire, inviting a piece of his old life into his new existence. Antonio knew his family, knew of West, even knew how close the two had been before Gilbert had stopped communication. What would he say, should Antonio ask about his little brother? Gilbert didn’t have it in his heart to lie about West, couldn’t bear to speak to the condition of their relationship then, nor admit that he had no idea of their current relationship. And yet he couldn’t admit the truth, couldn’t risk telling his old friend about the vans, about the revelation that had torn his family apart. He couldn’t talk about the past, but neither was he willing to let this precious part of it disappear once more. So fire or not, Gilbert was more than willing to play.

The waitress appeared with Antonio’s omelet just as the brunette straightened. Gilbert’s grin widened as he heard just the answer he’d been looking for; really, had he expected anything different? The German leaned back and accepted his second, less caffeinated cup of coffee with a roguish wink to the furiously blushing waitress. As he drank and surveyed his old friend, he felt the excitement building in his chest. “I hope you’re ready,” he finally said, when he couldn’t keep silent any longer. “Because there is nothing quite like a party in New York City.” The words just flowed out of him, describing rooftop parties that raged through the night, until the first rays of sunlight peeked around the city of skyscrapers, concerts that have bigger budgets than most movies, exclusive bars where the top brass of celebrities, political figures, wall street executives, and even high powered criminal organizations mingled with complete strangers. His expression was full of life in that moment, shedding the stress, the constant fear of his brother’s fate, the worry that he wouldn’t be able to help him in time. For now it was just Antonio and himself, and they had a lot of adventures to catch up on. Gilbert couldn’t believe his luck.

But all it took was one stray comment to ruin his high at finding an old friend. And it came from the table next to them, a couple sipping overpriced tea while their half eaten plates lay forlornly neglected off to the side.

“Can you believe the pro-mutant group is lobbying for more freedom to move around?” Said the woman, her lips curled in obvious disdain. “Travel permits for mutants? What’s next? We’re going to let them out on ‘good behavior?” Gilbert visibly stiffened, the smile frozen profanely on his face. His sentence about his favorite bar at 4 in the morning died on his lips and he turned back to the couple, his rubied eyes flashing in anger.

“And what’s so wrong with that? Many of those so called ‘dangerous mutants’ were kids who’d done nothing wrong.” He demanded, butting in without a second thought. The man, glared back through his horn-rimmed glasses, clearly not backing down.

“Tell that to innocent people killed by out of control mutants. Mutants are psychopaths, they don’t care about humans, they only care about themselves. ” he retorted icily. “But of course you would want increased freedom. How much longer till your contract ends?” He gave Antonio a sharp look. “Can’t you control your mutant?”

Gilbert snapped, his mind filled with memories of his brother, seeing the fear and uncertainty burning in those vulnerable blue eyes. His chair fell to the ground with a loud clatter as the albino got to his feet and grabbed a fistful of a man’s collar. “I am human, you snide bastard,” he snarled. “And those mutants you are so afraid of are treated like prisoners –no, worse than prisoners—cattle. Diseased cattle. They aren’t given even the basic human courtesies.”

“Because they aren’t human,” came the biting response and it was at that moment that Gilbert decided that this guy really needed a good punch to the face. He forgot about Antonio, forgot about where he was, forgot about how a fight would bode on his plans to rescue his brother, all he cared about was wiping that smug grin off of that asshole's face. He raised his hand, determined to do just that. 

[Antonio F. Carriedo]

Antonio ate his omelet, although it was not with any form of speed. A large majority of his attention was trained on his old friend. He smiled, a sort of soft and endeared expression after so long. Gilbert certainly was a comrade in the way of adventurous hearts. They’d cause such trouble, make such plans for future explorations and fun. While Antonio was from a large family and could often find a more than willing participant in his want for travel and the interesting, even now with grown siblings, there was something distinctly different about the sorts of escapades with Gilbert. That had, or had yet to occur. A uniquely mischievous mind with a nose for trouble could be found in this friend of his. And it was all the more clear with each word that such a trait had not been lost over the years. If anything it might have grown with his introduction to new places, new environments, and new people to awe. For now Antonio didn’t much bother to ask questions for more details – Gilbert was already far too forthcoming with his storytelling for him to need to, anyway – or join in the plan making for future ventures. Rather, he enjoyed the lively sparkle in Gilbert’s crimson eyes.

There was a bit of a wary cry of disappointment when that shine fell all too easily in response to what was being discussed not far from them. In a moment the spark had changed to a light far different than the one that had taken over his countenance before. It was now one of rage.

A part of Antonio hoped they could simply quietly pay and leave with a bad taste in their mouths at worst. However when Gilbert pushed himself into the conversation he knew that possibility was more than out the window. Antonio didn’t say anything, even when the man posed a question in his direction. He watched the exchange, straddling the fine line between anxiety and an almost composure in the face of the argument despite his reaction to what had transpired between his friend and the girl not long before. What finally had him making his presence known was when things were escalating to the physical. He was up when Gilbert had his hand on the man, and he was clamping a steady hand on his shoulder as he prepared for an attack.

“My friend,” he said, emphasizing the word with quiet anger at the statement prior, thinly veiled by his seemingly calm smile, “has had a long night. He forgets that this isn’t the time or the place.” Antonio spoke, the final words meant for Gilbert.

With continued ease and composure Antonio handed payment for his meal and Gilbert’s coffee to the baffled waitress. He turned back to the agitators, “have a good rest of your meal,” with practiced politeness. At the note of finality to it he gave his friend a glance. At that, he led Gilbert out.

Words: 496

Tags: Gilbert Beilschmidt

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[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

Antonio's voice broke through the red haze that had obscured any and all rational thoughts, the cool words dowsing Gilbert like a bucket of ice water. He released his grip on the man’s collar and let both hands fall limply to his side, allowing Antonio to take over with his carefully constructed composure. he was silent as Antonio led him out, eyes still seething like burning coals. He didn’t speak, even as they continued down the packed sidewalk. Antonio was silent as, and Gilbert couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever seen the other man angry before. Few things ticked off the Spaniard, but he was angry now, and it was Gilbert’s fault. Stupid, he thought angrily. How stupid can a person be? He looked at Antonio’s back, feeling a rare sense of guilt rise in his chest. They were a half hour into their reunion and already Antonio had been present for two confrontations…what’s worse, he’d actually had to step in to prevent Gilbert from doing something monumentally stupid. How was he going to explain away this one?

“Toni…” He started, only to putter off when he realized that he had nothing. He sighed and pulled his hand out of his friend’s, anchoring himself to the square of sidewalk. As much as he hated having to admit it, as easy as it would be to pretend that everything was as simple and uncomplicated as they were when they were kids, he knew it was impossible. Antonio deserved more than a fragile lie and even if Gilbert couldn’t give him the truth, he could at least attempt an apology. He sighed and looked up at the sky, his eyes fixated on the patches of blue unobstructed by skyscrapers as if he might find a script there.

“Sorry about all that,” he finally said after a long pause. “That couple… I’m sure the last thing you wanted to do during your vacation was breaking up fights and I shouldn’t have put you in a spot like that. I just… I hate hearing people talk like that about things they don’t understand… have never experienced.” He managed a crooked smile, red eyes seeking green in a hopeful apology. “But still, the last thing I need is to be thrown in jail, so thank God you were there to drag me out of it. I would have totally decked that jerk.” The very mention of him made Gilbert’s fist clench, but he managed a laugh as he held his hand up to inspect it almost curiously. “Don’t get me wrong, it would have been awesome. But rearranging his smug face wouldn’t be worth getting kicked out of school… so… thank you. Tell you what, first round of drinks are on me, all right?” Part of him knew that he wouldn’t be able to change the subject so easily, not this time. Who would accept such a flimsy apology? It was obvious that Gilbert had taken the comments personally—no one gets that angry on a vague principle. And so he sat there, eying his old friend. No one, not even Antonio was kind enough to let something like that lie. And so Gilbert stood and he waited for the big question, the obvious question that stood between them like a wall… It danced around in his head mockingly, tormenting him. It was the question that begged to be asked, even if Gilbert wasn’t sure he was ready to give an honest answer.

Who’d you lose, Gilbert?

[Antonio F. Carriedo]

There was no perceivable sort of response from Antonio when Gilbert said his name. He simply continued walking without even a glance back. It was not until Gilbert actually pulled his hand from Antonio’s grip and stopped following behind him that the man paused in his walking. It took him a moment then before he turned to face Gilbert, his face… rather unreadable after his usual cheery nature and like paired expression.

Like this he watched his friend. How Gilbert initially didn’t even look at him, instead opting for the sky as he began. He apologized with obvious guilt for putting Antonio in that situation. He… alluded to something under the service. Something dark that Antonio was more acutely aware of than he may have been when he was younger. It might have been the things Antonio had seen himself in the years since they had been in contact last, the ways he had grown and changed. It might have been the distance that made parts of Gilbert more apparent. It might have been a combination of the two and other components. Whatever it was, Antonio could sense a secret pain in Gilbert that he had not known when they were children.

Before there could be any more hints as to the nature of that hurt Gilbert apologized and moved on. He slipped into a smile in an attempt to cover over what he had said and felt as a result of the confrontation at the café. It was this that finally made Antonio pause, sigh, release some of the tension in his shoulders and face. Emotion returned to his face in the way of his own offered smile. He tilted his head, rested a hand on his hip and gestured with the other. “I have some experience with this sort of thing. I don’t mind so much.” And he looks away himself, turns his head to watch the people go about their day on the sidewalk opposite them on the side of the street. People just going about their lives in a hurry to get to somewhere, to someone. Do something for them, maybe, possibly, for someone else. Meeting friends and talking over coffee… He smiled a little softer, just a hint.

“Tell you what. Let me stay at your place. Give me some alcohol, and indulge me with a nice long talk. Then I’ll consider us even.” He said, turning his head just enough to watch Gilbert out of the corner of his eye. Smile at him, know, allude to it, but give him the time to collect himself of it first. Antonio wasn’t about to let any sort of confrontation keep him from spending time with a friend from so long ago. A friend he may be more willing to hear talk about a difficult subject than he would anyone else.

Words: 474

Tags: Gilbert Beilschmidt

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[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

“Tell you what. Let me stay at your place. Give me some alcohol, and indulge me with a nice long talk. Then I’ll consider us even.”

Gilbert couldn’t believe his luck. Antonio wasn’t finding some excuse to run away, to retreat from this volatile stranger wearing the face of his old friend? How had he ever let Antonio slip away? The man was a gem.

“Of course!” Caught up in his excitement, Gilbert grabbed Antonio’s hand and tugged him along, against the crushing tide of humanity. “We’ll grab a hotel room,” he all but sang. “No need for you to go all the way back to Ithaca.” Part of him couldn’t help but worry about Antonio’s reference towards “a good talk,” but he couldn’t help but be relieved. Antonio had seen Gilbert’s outburst and knew exactly what set him off. Only an idiot wouldn’t connect the dots. And though Antonio put on a naïve and laid-back act, he was far from an idiot. The fact that he wasn’t pulling away or yelling at him was a good sign. And Gilbert was determined to hang on to any good news he could.

He found the first hotel he could and dragged the Spaniard in. “One room please, just for the night.” He pulled out a card and slid it to the startled desk clerk with a bright smile.

“Oh… yes sir?” She blinked and looked at the pair of them curiously. “Would you… like a queen sized bed?” She asked haltingly.

“What?” Too late, Gilbert realized that he was still clasping Antoino’s hand. He let go with a boisterous laugh and shook his head. “No, we’re good with two doubles, thanks.” He sent the clerk another charming smile and she blushed and busied herself with making the reservations.

While they waited, Gilbert sent Antonio a shrug. “Well, that’s the first time anyone’s assumed I was gay. We must make quite a dashing couple…” He grinned and sent the other man a wink, just as the clerk looked up.

“I… here’s your room key,” she stammered, still looking flustered. “I’m so sorry for assuming—“

“Don’t be, he’s gorgeous!” He gestured to the brunette at his side. “Anyone would be lucky to be with him, don’t you agree?” he gave her an owlish gaze. “Maybe you two can get some coffee later on…”

“I don’t—“

“Thanks!” he said, over her protests as he collected the keys. “We’ll be waiting for that number of yours.” And with one last wink, he dragged Antonio away. “Wasn’t that fun?” He whispered with a devilish grin. “Americans are so much fun to tease. Right?” He stopped at the door and opened it with a flourish. “After you, ‘my lady.’” He couldn’t help but return to his old ways of teasing his friend, of teasing everyone really. Despite his determination of staying upbeat, the promise of their talk was looming over him like a cloud. And his nerves were starting to wear thin. He took a deep breath and sighed, willing the anxiety in his chest to reside before turning to back to Antonio with a slightly more subdued smile.

“Can I get you something to drink? We can probably order something off of room service,” he asked, resisting the urge to fiddle with his shirt nervously. It was strange. He never felt nervous around talking with others, hell, he’d walked into his interview for Cornell’s business school still nursing a hangover from the night before and still managed to wow them. But standing before the Spaniard at that moment… he had never felt so worried about what another person would think of him.

[Antonio F. Carriedo]

There was no real fear that he would be turned down. Antonio was far too optimistic, still believed he knew his friend well enough, to believe otherwise. All the same he was glad when Gilbert smiled and said they could get a hotel. He grinned himself, the mere two ideas of Gilbert and hotels bringing up a string of memories in the back of his mind. “Don’t mean to be a buzzkill, but let’s not set this one’s bath towels on fire, huh?” He offered, laughing under his breath a hint. Although really he could still say that that was probably their parents fault for leaving two adventurous young boys to their own antics in a hotel for as long as they had. That was simply asking for trouble.

Course, what followed seemed to liven things up to a close extent of burning bath towels. When Gilbert requested a hotel room for he and Antonio the Spaniard had thought nothing of it, just as he felt no qualms with his friends hand clasping at his own. He had almost forgotten it was even there – had until Gilbert reacted in turn to the woman at the desk jumping to conclusions. Antonio snorted himself automatically, more at the lady’s reaction as well as Gilbert’s than anything. She was so confused and flustered! Was it at the thought of two men together, or the ambiguous nature of how Gilbert had requested a room?

“Apparently,” Antonio agreed, sending Gilbert a sidelong grin and quirking of his brows.

At being called gorgeous Antonio couldn’t help responding in turn, a small, “oh you,” and dismissive wave of his hand at Gilbert. Between his own cheery nature and once again being paired with the boisterous Gilbert, he simply couldn’t resist the little things.

“Did you see her face? She was almost as red as a tomato!” Antonio laughed on the way to their room. He’d heard that Americans were a bit – prudish in comparison to the norm in a number of European countries, but honestly he couldn’t think of a time where someone had reacted in such a way before in his travels. He’d made a few friends here and there, spent the night in hotel rooms without any plans for a tumble. He and male friends getting a room together hadn’t gotten a second glance other places. A simple question of how many beds, a click in the computer, and a passing of the keys. America was quite interesting.

While Gilbert had a level of anxiety, Antonio was still relatively calm when he stepped into the hotel room, turned about once to take in the whole of it – before he sat in a chair at one end of it. He leaned back comfortably in it, looked to Gilbert. “Drinking already? My the Germans do start early,” he rose a brow, laughed.

Words: 475

Tags: Gilbert Beilschmidt

made by MISSO for use only by BECCA

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

We are the Lions...
Free of the Coliseum...

Gilbert chuckled and sat on the bed, waving his hand dismissively. “Never too early! Besides, once I go back, I have to be the responsible student president. I have to get my kicks in while I can.” Still feeling restless, he got to his feet and strode over to the mini-fridge. “So you wanted to talk, ja?” He prompted, digging through the contents with growing consternation. “Toni… have you noticed how weak these American brews are?” He huffed as he shut the door and turned back to the Spaniard. “Miller, Pabst… can you believe they package this swill under German names?” Left with no choice, he sat back down with a sigh and a bottle of water. He cracked open the bottle with the air of a martyr, before finally meeting Antonio’s eyes. His gaze flickered (at once turning serious) and he leaned forward.

“No point in beating around the bush, right?” He shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable as he started. Antonio was his friend… his best friend… But if he told him the truth, confided in him and Antonio decided he didn’t like what he’d heard. It could put everything he’d accomplished in jeopardy. No government was going to sell a mutant to a family member, not if there was anything to hint that he was not an upstanding and loyal citizen. But still… Antonio had been too important not to give him the benefit of the doubt. Gilbert took a long swig of water before plunging right in. “You have a lot of questions… about why I suddenly dropped off the radar, about why I’m here and… I know I owe you an explanation…” He looked up, trying to find the right way to start. He wanted to try and approach it delicately, to gauge the brunette’s reaction.

“I know that your family has never been really all that fond of me,” he started, cracking a grin. “And I know I didn’t exactly help matters. But it wasn’t my behavior that set them on edge, right? Not at first.” He tugged at a wayward strand of silver hair ruefully. “I still remember their looks, the way they whispered… They made no secret of how they felt towards mutants. Honestly…. I’m shocked they even let us hang out at all. But… before I continue with my explanation, I need you to be honest with me. I’m trusting you because you are my best friend, Toni. But I need you to tell me the truth.” He sighed and locked his gaze on Antonio. “I know how your family sees mutants, but how do you see them? Do you really think they are less than you or me?” He had to know, had to hear his friends reply before he could move forward. Unlike his family, Antonio had never given Gilbert’s strange looks a second glance, but having a friend who looks different and actually being sympathetic towards mutants. Gilbert would just have to hope Antonio fell on the right side of that fence.

word count: 503
tags:Antonio F. Carriedo
notes: Sorry it's so late...

by worldie for kat

[Antonio F. Carriedo]

Student president? Antonio quirked a brow – shoulders curving in the sort of small snort he gave at that particular image. Again, Gilbert had the motivation when he needed it, and he wasn’t anywhere near saying that he didn’t have the smarts or presence for such a position, but… well, Antonio could say for certain that those had to be some interesting student council meetings. He was so caught up in the idea of it that he waved his hand at the mentioning of German-brand American beers. He hadn’t even attempted to try any beer in America since he had arrived.

There was a very obvious shift in the mood, however, that made him have to pay full attention. It was in the way that Gilbert sat down and looked at him, in the way he spoke. A way that made Antonio visibly stop, hand still casually upright. He slowly brought it down, interlaced it with his other as he listened.

He… knew that this would be the subject. Even Antonio Carriedo was not that stupid, for all of his ignorant smiles and confused head-tilts. Even still. Antonio felt himself frown, faint, at where it began. He wanted to say that his family didn’t have near the problem with Gilbert as he thought, and most definitely not for the reason he was thinking. Sure he had an odd appearance, but that just made him interesting, it was the getting their eldest into trouble. More so than the kind he got up to with his siblings and cousins. But… when he thought about it, that would not be entirely truthful. Not when he could distantly remember the changed looks his parents initially wore whenever he mentioned Gilbert as opposed to any other of his friends. The veiled sort of questions and statements about his family.

And, when it came down to it, Antonio did have to speak on it anyway. Something that he, honestly, could not recall ever speaking about in depth with anyone… ever. He sighed. For asking for this talk – he was now the one that felt somewhat on the spot. He could ask for worse people than Gilbert to talk about it with, even if they hadn’t spoken for years…

“My family is very devotedly Catholic, as you know,” he began, looking down at the table as he spoke. Less out of guilt or inability to look at Gilbert than a sort of… distant look at a blank surface while his mind worked at the memories, stretched and pulled them into an understandable enough order to be put into words. “The old church, at the end of the day, has never looked… favorably upon mutants. Maybe not as obviously as other institutions, more… under the surface. Which, I guess, is the best way to describe how my parents think – always have.”

Antonio shook his head, his laugh then – somewhat derisive. At himself. “It wasn’t really until later that I realized how much looking down on them was a natural part of how things were. So natural it wasn’t like it was even talked about or spoken in an obvious way that I could latch onto. Not fully until I was out of the home and – meeting and interacting with all sorts of people.” People… ha. He swallowed, made himself continue, looking up at Gilbert now.

“At the heart of it – I can’t bring myself to hate anyone, begrudge them living how they want, because they look like that, or can do this that I can’t.”

Words: 586

Tags: Gilbert Beilschmidt

made by MISSO for use only by BECCA

[Gilbert Beilschmidt]

    My words are my faith...
        To hell with our good name...

Gilbert had never listened more intently to another’s words, trying in vain to stifle the small bubble of hope that kept rising in his chest with every sentence his friend finished. He knew well what the Catholic church taught about mutants, it was the main reason Gilbert turned his back on the whole thing. He loved Antonio like a brother, but he never really believed that his friend would ever turn away from the beliefs his family had held for years. So when Antonio finished speaking, Gil had to take a moment to figuratively pinch himself. Was it really true? He leaned closer, his hand resting over Antonio’s, as though he was worried that the Spaniard would disappear if he made the wrong move.

“It’s… I can’t tell you how good it is to hear you say that,” Gil finally admitted, feeling the excitement rise in his chest. After so many years of planning out each interaction with planned precision, it felt nice to find someone he could actually confide in. Someone who knew that he was more than the arrogant playboy facade that he had presented to the world. Gilbert did his best not to get his hopes up, there was no guarantee that Antonio would accept what Gil had to tell him next, but the very potential to have a confidant was almost dizzying to the German. He knew it was foolish to invite anyone else in to view the secrets that he had had so carefully hidden, but after nearly five years, Gilbert wasn’t sure if he could keep going forward alone. His fingers tightened around Antonio’s and he forced himself to meet those green eyes as he finally found his voice again.

“The truth is...I disappeared because… because they took my little brother….” His voice failed him. The words brought it all back in vivid, haunting detail. West’s panicked cries, the sharp commands of the men in tailored suits as they dragged him to the van, the blood pounding through Gil’s body—fear freezing him in his hiding place. He must have looked like a rabbit, cowering in the shelter of the forest, terrified that they had made a mistake—that they would be coming for him next. It didn’t matter that years had passed; nothing dulled the memory of that horrifying moment. Gil felt the tremors running through his body, noted dimly that his fingernails were digging into the bronzed skin of his dear friend. He forced himself to swallow back the vile mix of fear and shame and released Antonio’s hand.

“Apparently, West had been hiding his powers from everyone… but… you know how often he got bullied and that day... it became too much and he lashed out. And I should have been with him, to protect him that day. But we had a football practice and I wanted to secure my position as Center Forward and West had homework…. I had no idea he was a mutant—not until I came home to see the van outside of our house. Honestly… I was sure they made a mistake and had taken the wrong brother. I mean… you met West… did you every think he was a mutant?” Gil swallowed and shook his head. “We didn’t get the official letter announcing that he’d been identified as a mutant and had been transferred to Russia until three days later. After that… my life just kind of… disintegrated.”

There. He’d said it, he’d bared his soul… even if it was far from the articulate speech he’d planned. Now all that was left was to see Antonio’s reaction. Gilbert held his breath, praying he hadn’t just made one of the biggest mistakes in his life.

word count: 620
tags:Antonio F. Carriedo
notes: Gil bares his awesome soul ^^

by worldie for kat