AN: Here's the first chapter of the new and improved TBMA! Since I deleted the old chapters, the chapter order is a little messed up, so the chapter names will be the actual chapter numbers!

"I wanna scream 'I love you!' from the top of my lungs, but I'm afraid someone else will hear can blame your problems on the world for so long before it all becomes the same old song. As soon as we hit the hospital I know we're gonna leave this town and get new passports and get out now."

A hand reached out to snatch the cell phone to turn off the alarm that sang the Fall Out Boy song lyrics. A teenage boy sat up and yawned, his long wheat blond hair sticking up in every which direction. After a final stretch, the lanky spirit unlocked his phone and checked the time.

"Oh shit!" he exclaimed as he jumped out of bed and towards his closet for fresh clothes. In a flurry panic, he worried, "I'm gonna be late!"

"Matthew!" a woman called from downstairs, as if she could sense his discomfort. "Are you dressed yet? We have to leave now!"

"Coming, momma!" Matthew answered as he tried to get dressed as fast as possible. He threw on the same red hoodie he always wore, along with a pair of jeans and some beat up Converse high tops. He took a quick glance at himself in the mirror and gave a crooked smile. He liked how long his hair was, how soft his features were, and how androgynous his entire aura seemed to appear to be. He never considered himself trans in any way, but he liked being confusing to people about 'what he was'. Besides, he put the B in LGBT anyway, he didn't need other people telling him who he was. He grabbed his wallet and phone and flew down the staircase and greeted his mother, "Sor-sorry, ma! My alarm didn't go off until late!"

"It's alright," she reassured. She grabbed her purse and keys and instructed, "But we have to leave in minus five minutes, so get in the car!"

The pair headed for the family van and he and his mother drove off. Matthew opted to wearing headphones and listening to music to keep his mind preoccupied. He scrolled through his downloaded music and listened to the same old band he had been listening to for years.

"I can take your problems away with a nod and a wave of my hand, 'cause that's just the kind of boy that I am. The only thing I haven't done yet is die, and it's me and my plus one at the afterlife. Crowds are won and lost and won again, but our hearts beat for the diehards. So long live the car crash hearts, cry on the couch all the poets come to life. Fix me in forty-five."

He sat and bobbed his head along to the beat, gazing out of the passenger side window. Matthew liked the band, as did everyone when he was back in middle school. Though, that was just like him, to have the same interests for years and years. This included wearing the same sneakers and hoodie since ninth grade, not cutting his hair since he was fourteen, and listening to the same band for almost their entire career. These things had become a comfort to him, since nothing seemed to make sense in his current world of nonsense.

His mother called him back from outer space and asked, "So, are you doing well in school?"

"What do you mean?" Matthew asked. "My grades?"

"I mean, are you adapting to it well?" she inquired. "Do you think you've recalled any memories?"

"I don't think that's what the doctor meant by that, momma," he corrected. "I'm pretty sure she just wanted me to try to overcome my anxiety of people, you know?"

She nodded, adding, "I guess. But, I feel like I've been holding you back from a regular high school experience."

He removed one earbud and raised his eyebrows solemnly, "Momma, you know that you couldn't have prevented the accident. Not Alfred, not papa, no one could. Please don't feel bad for me, and please don't beat yourself up about it any longer."

"You're my child," she stated. "It's my job to be overprotective! And it's my job to beat myself up!"

"Things will pass, this is all for the better," he reassured. His mother nodded in agreeance as she pulled into the empty parking space.

The pair walked into the doctor's office and as his mother signed him in, Matthew turned his music up a little louder. To be quite honest, he hated the doctor's office, since they were associated with bad times. It still frightened him to think about the night he went to the emergency room. He was so terrified, having not remembered how or why he got there. His younger brother, Alfred, had told him that they had gotten into a car accident, but he was too afraid of him, of everyone, to believe that was what really happened. He was so terrified that he induced himself into a deep coma. When he had woken up days later, he was even more frightened, as he still could not remember the people around him. He recalled being in the ICU for the longest time, and people who claimed to be his friends and family coming to visit him. That time was such a blur; a hazy, drug induced fever dream. It was not until this current year, with being in school and making new friends that he was not afraid of, did he feel that he was present in the world again, honestly speaking.

"Williams, Matthew?" the nurse called from behind the waiting room doors. Matthew and his mother rose and followed the professional to the back of the office. The hallways stretched what seemed like endlessly, the doctors and nurses that passed by them being faceless once again in Matthew's forgetful mind. Once his mother and he were situated into a room, the specialist situated the pair and began running Matthew's vitals.

"Seems like you're doing really good, Matthew," the doctor proclaimed. "How has your memory been since you've been in school? Any better, you think?"

"Yeah, I think my anxiety is what's actually getting better," Matt agreed. "There's a Romeo and Juliet play at my school's theater club, and I was thinking about joining."

"That sounds great!" she exclaimed. "That would be excellent for your mental health! And maybe memorizing lines will improve your memory! And that would be a great way of making new friends!"

Matthew only half heartedly chuckled, not totally agreeing with her. School might have improved his mental status tenfold, but his social life was very much the same, and apparently had been the same for a while. According to his family and some of his recovered memories, Matthew had always been sort of a loner. He wouldn't approach other kids, so the only friends he had were the ones that took the initiative and talked to him first. He didn't really know how to make friends, but he was grateful for the handful he had.

Way back in middle school, Matthew had a couple of friends (or acquaintances, Matthew still wasn't sure) whose names were Francis and Antonio. They talked a lot and even hung out outside of school. After the accident, it took Matthew about three years to almost fully remember who they were and become comfortable with them again. Since then, he had not really talked to them, maybe a little in school and such but due to his memory loss, he didn't feel that he had retained enough memories to really know them, which put a damper on their friendship. They were there for most of the way during his recovery, but Matthew didn't blame them for not wanting to be friends with someone that didn't even remember who they were. They were just entering high school and had lives of their own, he didn't expect them to be by his bedside every waking moment.

After the appointment, Matthew and his mother drove home to Alfred, who had just gotten off from school. Matt listened to some of his brother's stories of who said what and who fought who at school that day, but he was quickly drained and went to his room to lie down. As he plopped down onto his mattress, he daydreamed about the drama club and how confident he could be, but he shook the thought out of his mind. He was Matthew Williams for God's sake! Matthew Williams, the shy boy at school who always sat alone at lunch, even though he had friends. Matthew Williams, the boy that literally no one had seen so much as smile at school. Matthew Williams, the boy that was alone because he pushed everyone away.

He rolled over and groaned, muttering into his pillow, "Please stop thinking."

Matthew walked to his next class with little enthusiasm as he tried to ignore the obnoxious students. His English class was a fun one, yes, but it was so hard to pay attention due to the students interrupting. Most of the students that acted like class clowns were returning detention students, and didn't want to be there. It would only be this class left, he thought to himself, and then he would home free.

Then, a loud Germanic voice tore through Matthew's daydream state as he called, "Ich habe eine Frage!"

"What is it, Mr. Beilschmidt?" the teacher sighed as he stopped the lesson temporarily. "Do you have a question about this lesson? Because those are the only ones I'll take."

"Ich brauche eine Minute," the boy with pale skin and blond-white hair muttered underneath his breath. He paused for a moment, and asked, expression heavily animated, "Ja, ist das sogar wichtig?"

"Gilbert, whatever it is you want, the answer is no," the instructor responded.

Gilbert mumbled out of earshot, "Fick dich, dann."

Matthew glanced over at the teen and crawled in his skin. That boy was Gilbert Beilschmidt, a school legend, but not for anything good. He was known for being a notorious trouble maker, and probably being the oldest kid in the school. As fable told, the teen had failed every grade level he had been in, some of them he even took multiple times. He was allegedly about twenty-two or twenty-three and his age made him no more mature than his fellow peers and students. The boy of German descent was known for his rebellious behavior and breaking the rules, and it made him very popular for seemingly no reason. Matthew assumed that the cause as to why Gilbert had not graduated yet was because he wanted to be in high school for as long as he possibly could, and to stay as popular as he was now. Even though he was loud, obnoxious, and probably knew more English than he lead others to believe, Matthew paid him no mind. He was just a trouble maker, and attention would only feed into his rebellion. Though, that didn't stop Matthew from getting distracted in every single class he had with him.

When the last bell rang for the day, Matthew excitedly grabbed his things and ran down the hallways as fast as traffic would allow him to. With this excess confidence he somehow had was going to be put to good use, as he walked into the drama club room. Taking a glance around, his heart sank at what he saw. Almost every student in the club room was running wild as if it were some kind of recess, and the director looked stressed as ever. He sighed, and took a seat in an empty row of the auditorium, pulling out his phone to pass the time. Scrolling through various social media, Matthew had become completely absorbed and in his own world, until a boisterous voice called for him.

"Hey, blond guy!" Gilbert Beilschmidt called from the stage in front of him. He was dressed from head to toe in black and wearing, combat boots? No one really wore boots in school, especially not the stereotypical 'tough guys' and especially not combat boots. It was strange to Matthew; Gilbert really didn't seem like the combat boot wearing type. Additionally, if it weren't for the boy's almost white hair, he would've been unnoticable from all the black he was wearing, as he was practically blending in with the dark. Gilbert was undoubtedly an interesting character, but Matthew tried not to pay any attention, since that was what he figured he wanted. Gilbert angled his head and walked closer to the edge of the stage, waving and calling, "Hello? Hello! Can you hear me? Come on, I know you can hear me!"

Matthew pulled his hood over his head, the corners of his mouth askew as he tried his hardest to retain eye contact with his phone. God, he wanted nothing more than to just disappear. He hated when people just casually called him out like that, it sucked any confidence he thought he had right from him. The rebel raised his brows and squinted at him from the stage, but shrugged his shoulders and walked away. Breathing a sigh of relief, Matthew removed his hood and returned to what he was doing. His cheeks still flushed with embarrassment, as he could only lament on what happened. Why did he have to be so easily shy? Better question, why did Gilbert Beilschmidt have to be so unpleasant? These questions could be put out into the universe, but never answered.

Once it was time for tryouts, Matthew tried his very best to recharge the courage that the insurgent had drained from him. He wanted so badly to get the lead, to live out his fantasies of being a real life Romeo Montague. He was going to give it his all, and show everyone that he wasn't another shadow that roamed the halls of their school.

"Okay everyone," the drama club director called for the auditorium's attention. Once it quieted down, he continued, "I'm going to be rattling off the list of people by each role. So we're going to start with Romeo and I'll be calling everyone who wrote their name down, alright? So that starts us off with Gilbert… Bellsmith?"

"Beilschmidt," the annoying student corrected. He winked at the audience, "And, let me show you how a real Romeo acts, ladies."

The very few ladies that were in the auditorium were the artistic coordinators from the previous year and most likely were going to be this year, and probably definitely not this year's Juliet. Though, that did not stop Gilbert from his annoying flirting.

"And we're gonna need a Juliet from the list to audition with Mr. Beilschmidt here. Uh, Matthew Williams?"

Matthew's heart nearly jumped right from his chest as his name was called. As he walked up the short steps to the wide open stage, him and Gilbert had made eye contact with each other, Matt too afraid to break it. The look Gilbert gave him was an observant one, one that made Matt feel like a specimen in a glass jar, like a bug he was ready to dissect. Gilbert's brow drew together as he looked him up and down, making him shiver with anticipation. What was he doing? What was he looking at? What about Matthew was so interesting to Gilbert? They broke eye contact once the director called out instructions.

"Alright, so I want you two to read out some of the balcony scene I have printed out for you both," he said, handing out copies to the both of them. "We're starting at the scene where Juliet appears from her balcony. And go!"

Gilbert cleared his throat and through his thick accent, he proposed, "But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east and Juliet is the sun! Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief. That thou her maid art far more fair than she."

Matthew's jaw hit the floor as soon as Gilbert began. Everything that was aborrant about him, everything that was unpleasant or loathsome instantly vanished as he began his line. As he continued, Matthew was in complete awe of how Gilbert could drop his bad boy attitude as if it were all an act, and he was actually a real life Romeo. He could hardly believe how fluently Gilbert could say his lines; he knew that Gilbert was not American, but he did not know exactly how foreign he was. Normally, his English would be broken and mispronounced but he spoke with such ease and eloquence when reading off a script, unlike from a passage from a book in the English class they shared.

Before he even knew it, Gilbert was eyeing Matthew as if he wanted something, and he quickly realized he spent the entirety of Gilbert's lines daydreaming. He shook his head and read his line off of his paper, "A-Aye, me!"

Gilbert smiled, or at least Matthew thought that was what it looked like, and continued his lines, "She speaks! O, speak again, bright angel, for thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head, as is a winged messenger of heaven unto the white-upturned wondering eyes of mortals that fall back to gaze on him! When he bestrides the lazy-puffing clouds and sails upon the bosom of the air!"

Matthew stumbled over his lines once again, taken aback by the increased energy Gilbert had put into his line. "O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name; or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet."

Gilbert staggered closer and took Matthew's hand and gazed into his eyes, "Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?"

"'Tis but thy name that is my enemy:Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name. What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; so Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, and for that name, which is no part of thee, take all myself."

With a grip still on Matthew's hand, Gilbert guided his limb to his cheek for dramatic effect, and Matthew jumped back slightly. His face was smooth except for a stubble patch by his jaw. He fluttered his eyes in a way that really seemed like he knew Matthew for years and loved him for longer. His eyes, Matthew just noticed, were red? But also purple? Kind of, reddish-purplish? Oh God, they were definitely one of a kind, that was for sure. Gil brought him back from cloud nine with a hushed tone, still loud enough for the audience to hear.

"I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptis'd; henceforth I never will be Romeo."

"And cut!" the director called. Gilbert slowly took Matthew's hand away from his cheek and faced the front of the stage. He began again, "That was amazing! I could see the passion between you two like… like you were actually Romeo and Juliet!"

"Th-thank you," Matthew stuttered. Gilbert nodded his head in agreeance.

"I think I might know who will be the stars of our play. Now, Matthew," he trailed off. "I know you also auditioned for Romeo, but I'm going to consider you for the part based on your performance as Juliet."

He nodded cheerfully, and he could feel Gilbert's eyes on him. Were they good eyes or bad eyes? Matthew did not know, nor did he care, he had much bigger things to think about. After much anticipation, he was probably going to get the role of Romeo!

"The audition results will be posted on the lobby cork board tomorrow! I wish you the best of luck!" he added.

That night, Matthew was almost too giddy to sleep. The thought of being the star of the play and how close he was to it was inconceivable! For a brief moment, Gilbert crossed his mind but left it just as fast. Who cared that Gilbert Beilschmidt was a little too close for comfort? Who cared that he was so close to him he could smell the cigarette smoke on his breath? Not Matthew, that was for sure. He had his life and he had his own, the play was the only thing that crossed their life paths. Though, Gilbert came up in his nightly daydreaming more than once, Matthew hated to admit. The last line that Gilbert had recited rang in Matthew's mind like Sunday church bells, sounding bittersweet and memorable.

"I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptis'd; henceforth I never will be Romeo."

Matthew pondered over the line and its meaning. Henceforth, I will never be Romeo. Gilbert would never be Romeo; not in their personal lives, and not in the play, perhaps. Maybe it was an omen, informing Matthew that he would get the role instead of Gilbert. He yawned and soon enough, he drifted off to sleep, the German boy still on his curious mind.

After the last bell of the day rang, Matthew flew from his classroom to the school lobby. He could hardly contain his excitement! Just imagine: his name, plastered on posters on every wall in his high school! In the crowd of potential suitors for the lead role, Matt pushed his way through the swarm to get a glimpse of the roll call. His heart dropped to the pit of his stomach as he read the name that occupied his under the Romeo role.

"Gilbert Beilschmidt?" Matthew muttered to himself. To say he was in complete shock was an understatement. Terrified was a more suiting expression. Though, his heart grew wings and flew from his stomach and to his throat as he read the name under Juliet.

"Me?" he whispered even quieter and even more under his breath. Today was not real, it couldn't be. How he wished he never even tried out for the stupid school play!

Matthew moped his way to the student parking lot, reviewing what had just happened. Gilbert Beilschmidt; the lead role, Romeo Montague. And then there was Matthew Williams, his supposed Juliet Capulet. How was he supposed to deal with that? Should he drop out now, and avoid all future embarrassment? If he stayed, what was he supposed to even do? Surely he was not going to kiss him, that was outlandish to even fathom! Though, what was he going to do? If he wasn't going to kiss him, and if he wasn't going to drop out, what were his options?

"Hey, Mattie!" a blond boy in a Chevy convertible called for him. Matthew hazily waved back and climbed into the passenger seat. His brother beamed and asked, "So, how goes it, little bro? Did you get the part?"

"Hey Alfred," he greets. Matthew hangs his head and sighs, "And about the part, well, I mean, technically?"

"What's that mean?" he angled his head.

"I got the Juliet role," Matt exasperated, pushing his curly blond hair out of his face.

Alfred pursed his lips and queried, "Then, who's Romeo?"

Matthew waited a moment to catch his breath as his heart rate increased suddenly, "It's Gilbert."

Alfred paused, raising his brows, and interrogated, "Like, Gilbert Beilschmidt? The Gilbert Beilschmidt?"

He nodded, exhaling, "Yeah, that's exactly the one."

Al laid back in his seat and let shock consume his expression. A moment of awkward silence passed by the brothers before he continued, "You're not going to accept the role, are you?"

Matthew paused for a moment, "I mean, it's a high school play, they couldn't possibly make kids kiss each other if they don't want to. Does that sound right?"

Alfred sucked his teeth and shrugged his shoulders, "I guess that's fair."

The younger brother started the vehicle's ignition and made their way out of the school parking lot. No words were said, but the air was heavy with words unsaid. Matthew glanced over at Alfred, who appeared to be mulling something over and over in his mind. He spoke up to ask, "What're you thinking about, Alfie?"

Alfred snapped out of his trance and he waved his hand nonchalantly, "Nothing! It's nothing, really!"

Matt cut his eyes and folded his arm, arguing, "I know when you're thinking hard about something, Alfred. Tell me what's up."

"It's just," he started, his voice hitching as he did. "I just don't really trust Gilbert."

"Well, that makes the two of us," he added. "But I want to be in this theater club more than anything. And no Beilschmidt is going to get in my way."

Alfred gritted his teeth as he made an especially sharp turn at the intersection. He commented, "Well, I don't know if you've heard, but Gilbert is bad news. And I mean bad, bad news."

"I mean, I think I know the basics," Matthew informed, his hand firmly on the door handle as he tried to steady his heart rate from his brother's reckless driving. "I mean, I know he's obnoxious, but you're also obnoxious, and I live with you! I think I can handle a couple of hours after school with him!"

Alfred shook his head, disregarding the obnoxious comment, and informed his brother, "Gilbert is nothing but a troublemaker. He drinks, he smokes, he's a down right sex addict, and he gets carried away way too often. Plus, he's, like, five or so years older than you because he keeps flunking out."

Matthew pondered for a moment; he was not aware exactly of his classmate's wrongdoings, or that he was actually in his early twenties and still in high school. Though Gilbert could definitely be older, Matt never believed the rumors and did not think he was a year or more older than him. If he was twenty-two or twenty-three, he would have smartened up by now and did what he was supposed to do. Even though he did not believe everything that his younger brother was telling him, Matthew just played along with his justice fantasy. Sometimes, he wondered how his girlfriend, Alice, could put up with him and his rambling.

"I mean really, Matthew," Alfred brought him back from outer space. "It's a miracle how he isn't suspended yet!

Matthew just nodded and acted interested, though he was long lost in his own thoughts. Wasn't he friends with some of the guys he had seen Gilbert hang out with often? Acquaintances? At least had their phone numbers? Matt pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contact list and, much to his surprise, he still had their numbers. He smiled, and thanked God that he still did, because he was going to ask some serious questions, and not about the Algebra class they had taken together all the way back in middle school.

Gilbert Beilschmidt walked to his car to meet his younger brother, Ludwig, already waiting for him. He unlocked the old beat up vehicle and he climbed in, Gil still taking his time to approach the driver's seat. Once there, he buckled up, started the ignition, and dramatically slammed his head on the horn. Underneath the deafening car siren, Ludwig shook his brother and spoke to him in a wavering voice.

"Bruder!" he called as Gil continued to lay on the steering wheel. "Get up! What's wrong you!"

Finally ending the boisterous horn sound, Gilbert sat up slowly and glanced over to his passenger. After a few moments of catching his thought, he said, "I got the part."

"So? Aren't you excited? I thought you wanted to be Romeo?" Ludwig requested. "Why do you seem so upset?"

"Because," Gil exhaled, almost tempted to bang his head on the car window. "Juliet is a guy."

Ludwig took his hand off of his brother and quietly gasped, at a momentary loss for words. When he finally found them, he attempted to comfort him. "I mean, what's wrong with that? It's not the end of the world, right? It's not like you're going to spend every waking moment together! It's only just a couple of hours after school!"

"I'm going to quit tomorrow," Gil stated promptly, Lud in shock.

"What! No!" he refused, putting his hand back on his shoulder as he continued. "You are not going to give up your dream just because, what? A boy is playing the role of your love interest? You're a Beilschmidt, and you never give up!"

Gil's mind was racing; this whole ordeal of tricking his friends, his family, into thinking that he was really trying. That he was going to join the school play and show them that he was not the idiot they always took him for. He was going to go up on that stage and prove to his family, no, his whole school, that he was just as intelligent as the next guy. Sure, the part about theater being his dream was true, he spent nearly every night for the past couple of years failing to recite plays from Shakespeare alike. Though, the part about learning all of the script in a language he barely understood was the part that was mostly true, and the part of wanting to prove to everyone that he could do it was even truer.

Since he and his family had moved from Germany to America, Gilbert was always behind Ludwig. In grades, in popularity, in being proficient in English. Ludwig was the smarter sibling out of the both of them, meanwhile Gilbert had been learning the language since he was fourteen and he still spoke mostly broken English. It upset him, angered him even, that he was still nineteen and in still in high school, while Ludwig was seventeen and graduating a whole year early. His failure was evident even to his family, as that was what everyone in his family said.

I guess we're having one graduate a year early and one graduate two years late.

It was always shoved in his face that he was the lesser sibling. It always destroyed his confidence when he was being compared to his brother, and his little brother, no less. And even if Gilbert was not able to memorize all his lines or improve his language skills whatsoever, he still wanted to show to his friends and family that he was not, by any means, gay. He was supposed to kiss the girl that was playing Juliet and show the whole world that he was straight. Granted, Gilbert knew for a fact that he was straight, but the people around him did not. His friends playfully teased him about his sexuality, which he did not mind in the slightest. His family and strangers, however, were a different story.

By the many fathers that he had in the past, all of them denied Gilbert and his heterosexuality. He practically grew up in lipstick and a pink tutu, attempting to get his brother to join along. Even though his mother saw it as a way to enjoy having the baby girl she never got to have, his past fathers had shamed him for it, thus leading his mother on to the next suitor. He was ever grateful for his mother defending him as a child, not standing to be with a man that did not accept her son, but it burdened Gilbert. That his mother could not find love because of him. That what if his fathers were right, and that he was gay but just didn't know it? This lead Gilbert to a life of sex, drugs, and alcohol, the intoxicants being the only way he could have sex with a women. Though, it worried Gilbert; what if in one of his many drunken escapades, he had sex with a guy? It was not like he would ever know, as he always woke up the next morning with a blank mind and a guilty conscience.

"Gilbert?" Ludwig asked in a low tone, reviving GIlbert from his drowning thoughts. He raised his brows and looked him in the eye, the younger one asking again, "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he lied, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. "I'm okay."

With that, the two drove home, Gilbert's mind heavy and the music loud. He could not stop thinking about the boy with blond hair and glasses with the name he could not remember for the life of him. He was unable to stop the intrusive thoughts of kissing that boy with the blond hair on a stage in front of the whole school. He shook the thought out of his mind; that was totally impossible! He was going to quit the club before he could even let that happen. Although, deep in his heart, Gilbert was not willing to quit. He wanted to ask the director if there was any way around the kissing scenes, of course, but he wanted to do this. He was going to be in that play, whether or not the blond boy was his Juliet or not.

Gilbert sighed; he wondered how long it would take until his friends would tease him for something this outwardly gay.

Matthew dumped his book bag onto his bedroom floor and flopped down onto his mattress. He whipped out his cell phone once again and began brainstorming what to say to them.

To: Francis, Antonio

Hey, it's Matthew from algebra! I was wondering, do you guys still talk to Gilbert? Thank you in advance!

Not a moment after sending the message, he got a reply back.

Francis:

You mean algebra from middle school? I gave you my number so you could text me over the summer! Not four years later! You broke my 13 year old heart!

Matthew:

What're you talking about? That enormous and oblivious crush you had on me for all of middle school? And yeah I know, shit came up. But do you and Antonio still hang out with Gilbert?

Antonio:

Oh my God, Matthew! I thought you hated us!

Matthew:

Yeah, everyone thought that, but I'll explain that later. Can you answer my question about Gilbert please?

Francis:

I mean, there was a time where we didn't hang out with him for a while, but we do now. Why, is something wrong?

Matthew:

So I auditioned for the school play, right? I tried out for both the Romeo and Juliet roles, but I got Juliet.

Antonio:

What does Gil have to do with this? Don't tell me he's actually in the drama club!

Matthew:

…

Francis:

Oh my fucking God. Gilbert is Romeo, isn't he?

Matthew:

I'm guessing he's not spreading the happy news. Don't tell him that I told you that! He'd probably kill me!

Antonio:

Our Gillie? He wouldn't hurt a fly!

Matthew:

I feel like that was supposed to be sarcastic.

Francis:

It's not! He's actually a really cool dude!

Matthew:

That's another reason why I texted you guys. What is he like? Is it true that he's an alcoholic, druggie sex addict? Is he actually like 22?

Francis:

Oh my God you poor thing.

Antonio:

That's totally not true! Where did you hear that from?

Matthew:

Alfred told me. You mean he's not an alcoholic druggie sex addict? I thought I've heard Al tell me stories from parties that he's been to with him.

Antonio:

Oh he's an alcoholic druggie sex addict alright. I was talking about the 22 thing.

Francis:

He's like a year and a half older than us. I mean, he'll be 20 when he graduates but definitely not 23!

Matthew:

That's a relief, I guess. But what can you tell me about his "troublesome" side? Like, the shit's he's done and everything? I asked Alfred but he didn't go into detail.

Antonio:

He likes to party and shit like the rest of us, but he just takes it a little out of hand sometimes.

Francis:

I'd say that he's the sole reason as to why every party he's been to the cops had to show up to shut it down.

Antonio:

Yeah he just gets crazy fucked up but no one knows why. We're friends with him but we still don't even really know why he acts the way he does. Personal preference? Trauma? Rebellion? It's still kinda new to us even.

Francis:

But why do you want to know him, Mattie? You're not into him, are you?

Matthew:

Hell no! I was just wondering because I've heard crazy rumors about this kid that's apparently the Romeo to my Juliet. I was just trying to prepare myself for what's coming!

Antonio:

He's a really nice guy once you get to know him. I mean, he's still kinda a dick and we've known him since freshman year, but I think that's just a part of his personality!

Matthew:

Okay, well, thanks anyway guys. I appreciate it.

Antonio:

No problem!

Francis:

;)

Matthew set his phone down for the first time in almost an hour and laid back, staring at his ceiling. There were posters held up but glow in the dark sticky stars, the same as they had always been. He pondered about Gilbert Beilschmidt; if he was correct, his brother was the one that was graduating with them this year. He was always the smartest kid in class and obeyed all the rules. Gilbert, on the other hand, was a drastically different person. He was rambunctious, out of line, and disobeyed every rule the teachers could think of. That raised another question; why was Gilbert joining the drama club? What was he getting out of it? Matthew made a mental note to check in with the club director at practice tomorrow to opt out of kissing that guy.