A/N: This was a request fic for the wonderfundle, amazing, Arashi91! She has been such an amazing friend to me this past month or so, and since she's written so many lovely pieces for me, I finally decided to get off my lazy butt and write something for her! Hope you enjoy, mi Franica! (Feel free to tell me if my French is wrong too. I was too excited to post this to ask you first. xD) Through everything that's happened, I finally got this done.../wipes sweat from brow/!

IMPORTANT NOTE: The numbers at the beginning of almost all of the line-breaks are Antonio's (and the others for that matter) age. I thought it would be bothersome to blatantly state his age in each sentence in each part. Yes, they do jump around. Just little highlights, not each year.

Disclaimer: I own nothing! None of the songs, nor the characters.

I'm gonna be like an apple tree

I'm gonna let all my branches run free

I'm gonna reach way up to the sun

And open my arms for everyone

And like an apple is sweet, I will be so sweet

Like an apple shines in the sun

Ever since he was a kid, Antonio couldn't remember a day spent without his two best friends, Gilbert and Francis.

Antonio had been born into a small town in the good old state of Michigan, where the summers were scorching and muggy with humidity, the winters were chilling to the bone, and there was always a lake around somewhere if you looked closely enough. His mother had moved to America on her own when she was merely 19, hoping to get away from her life in Spain and start anew; get a prosperous job, and start a family. Which she had greatly succeeded in doing. Loretta married a wonderful, kind man and had a beautiful son, with eyes like crisp, grassy meadows, skin the color of warm nutmeg, and a head of gorgeous, silky, sienna locks. He was their little bundle of joy; a bright, cheerful boy who could be dense at times, but he had always been a compassionate young fellow, and they loved him just the same. Little Antonio Fernandez Carriedo.

For as long as Antonio could remember, he had lived in this town; spent warm, starry nights on the lake and sweltering days planting tomatoes in his mother's cozy little garden out in the front yard. He remembered evenings gathered around a bonfire with his family, watching the ruby colored sunset painted against a sky of fiery red and blazing orange. He remembered cooking, as it had always been a bond that he and his relatives shared. It was a talent that every member of his family possessed, so they would spend countless hours in his mother's sunny kitchen, belting badly sung renditions of 'Margaritaville' as they stirred concoctions accented with delightfully pungent spices, the smell of freshly picked tomatoes always lingering in the air.

Those were peaceful times, when Antonio was content with small town life; everyone knew each other and gossip tore through the town at a mile a minute. Yes, Antonio was happy. He loved his family, and he loved his life.

But nothing was the same once Gilbert and Francis had moved into town. Nothing had ever been the same after that.

[12]

It was Gilbert that first moved in.

Gilbert was an audacious, young German boy, with unique, fiery eyes and luminescent locks of silvery hair that looked like the moon on its finest night. Young Antonio had been more than a little bit curious when it came to Gilbert; not only because of the boy's odd appearance but the way he carried himself, with a boastful pride and sheer confidence that made him seem as if he cradled the entire world within his hands. He was unlike anyone Antonio had ever met before, and it was intriguing to the young Spaniard. Something about the albino had drawn Antonio to him, almost as if Gilbert had some sort of strange gravitational pull on anyone he met.

However, Antonio had been a little hesitant at approaching Gilbert, at first. He didn't exactly know how to become friends with a person like that. In fact, he hadn't really spent much time with people outside of his family at all, despite the neighbor kid Lovino, though Lovi had never really enjoyed his company too much..

But Antonio was friendly, and he wasn't too afraid. So before long, he found himself to be at the 12 year old German boy's doorstep, knocking on the boldly painted front door with a basket of tomatoes in his hand.

When the door finally swung open (with a bit more force than was truly necessary) in the doorway stood the very boy that Antonio had seeked to meet, clad in a pair of basketball shorts and an obsidian t-shirt with the word 'AWESOME' printed on the front in large, brightly colored letters. The boy raised a snowy brow at the bright, olive eyed Spaniard standing on his threshold, one hand placed plaintively on his hips in a casual stature.

"Hola!" chimed Antonio, his smile wide and encompassing, and revealing blindingly white teeth that contrasted with his exceptionally tanned skin. "My name is Antonio," he held the basket of tomatoes (that he had worked very hard on growing simply for this visit) for the other boy to see. This caused Gilbert 's pale lips to spread into an expansive grin, unveiling an equally bright set of teeth. "I just wanted to welcome you into the neighborhood, amigo!"

This time, Gilbert snickered, reaching out a milky white hand to hesitantly take the basket that Antonio offered. "Uh, thanks," he replied, one corner of his mouth quirking into a devious smirk. "You know, I could make a lot of…jokes…right now. But I won't. 'Cause I'm awesome." Gilbert then gestured to the t-shirt that he adorned, blatantly proclaiming what he had already spoken aloud.

The young Spaniard cocked his head curiously to the side, a confused expression overtaking his features. "What do you mean by that, amigo?" he asked, watching with childlike curiosity as the strange German boy smiled and reached out a hand to clutch onto the other's forearm.

"Forget it," said Gilbert, ever-so straightforward as he yanked the boy inside of his home, rubies of pure, glittering intensity alight with something akin to a very dangerous sort of mischief. "I like you! You seem awesome enough to hang out with the awesome me!" he exclaimed, a laugh that Antonio would soon become familiar with resonating from his chest. "Come on, let's go bug that grumpy Italian kid across the street! Kesesese!~" Well, looked like he wasn't the kind to waste time beating around the bush.

At first, Antonio blinked to adjust to the boy's sudden change in attitude, but as Gilbert's words finally sunk in, he brightened, flashing a brilliant, innocent smile at his newfound friend. "Okay!" he chirped happily, surreptitiously reaching for a tomato from the worn wicker basket as he did so. "Sounds fun to me!"

Gilbert then led Antonio into his room, where they gathered a few things before setting off in pursuit of said 'grumpy Italian' (water guns were harmless, right? And Lovi would know they were only playing around!), already smiling and laughing as if they had known each other for years.

And from that moment on- even though the boy had always been a generally exuberant person by nature- Antonio had never felt happier in his life.

[12]

The hot, August sun beat down mercilessly on the two boys' backs as they trudged through the musty backwoods of the Michigan forest. Antonio shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he marched along, through far-reaching tree branches and overgrown weeds, absently humming a song he had once sung with his mother whilst making delicious tamales.

Oh yeah, life goes on; even after the thrill of livin' is gone..

Their destination was an old, rickety wooden bridge that was quite simply deemed 'The Bridge', which stretched across the gap between two 'unclaimed' pieces of land at the farthest end of the canal. It beheld the typical lakeside scenery- with lily pads floating across its glassy surface, cattails dotting the mucky banks and little creatures scurrying through the unkempt grasses, a cricket's song more often than not being chirped away in the distance. Gilbert had been the first to find the old, deserted place, when he had been taking a walk with his younger brother Ludwig and that bubbly Italian, Feliciano. Gil claimed he had 'went to walk on his own' after a while (though in all honesty he had gotten lost, but he was much too awesome to admit that) and had unintentionally stumbled upon the place. Later that day, Gilbert had dragged Antonio to that same area, showing it off with a smug grin as if he had just discovered the most amazing thing in the world, claiming that from now on, this place was their 'Super-Secret Awesome Place of Awesome!'

Over time, it really had become the habitual meeting place for the two, where they could be alone to laugh and talk about silly things in the afternoons, try out the cuss words that they had overheard the older kids throwing about without the risk of their parents yelling at them, and catch frogs by the muddy banks of the canal, giggling lightheartedly all the while. It had almost felt like a sort of second home, not because it was a suitable shelter- because it most certainly was not -, but because it had the feel of a home: familiar…and yet comforting.

It had been about two months since Antonio had first approached Gilbert, and since then, they had barely been apart. They were a strange pair, the two of them; bright, friendly Antonio and loud, slightly narcissistic Gilbert. But for some reason, they got along extremely well. Maybe it was true, what Mama said, thought Antonio one night as he sat mulling over the relationship that he and Gilbert shared, 'opposites attract'.

Once the two had finally reached 'The Bridge', Gilbert plopped down onto the edge of the wooden structure, his toes just barely grazing the water as they hung lazily off of the side. The Spaniard followed and sat down next to his friend, swinging his legs absentmindedly back and forth and rupturing the once calmly flowing surface of the water as his feet kicked shiny little droplets into the dry, summer air.

"So," began Antonio, his voice exuberant as always as his bottle green eyes fell upon the boy beside him. "What do you want to do now?"

Gilbert looked thoughtful as he stared out over the lake, watching distractedly as a dragonfly landed on the lily pad nearest to his feet, fluttering its wings silently and situating itself into a comfortable position at the leafy plants edge. He shrugged noncommittally as he turned to stare at Antonio, still looking as though he were mulling over some unknown matter. "Don't know," the boy muttered, curling his thin, pale fingers around the grass that poked through the farthest edge of the bridge and yanking the clump from its peaceful area, toying with it idly between his fingers. "Did you hear about that new kid that moved in, though?"

Antonio blinked in surprise, obviously caught-off guard by the statement. He paused for a moment, before inquiring upon it, his eyes widening in sudden shock. "Eh? Seriously?" he questioned in disbelief. "There's another new kid?"

Gilbert seemed suddenly thrilled at the prospect of knowing something that his best friend did not. "Yeah," he replied confidently, noticeably straightening from his earlier slumped position as his lips spread into a wide grin. "Heard his name's…Francis, or something. Moved here from France." Garnet eyes flitted over to the boy beside him, who, although he still looked surprised, was now beaming, delighting in the idea of having another new friend to play with.

"Cool!" said Antonio, as a hand flickered up to absently finger the cross strung around his neck; that had been a gift from his mother a few years ago. "You think we should go and meet him?"

The young German shrugged, that ecstatic, yet bemused grin still playing at his lips. "Yeah, let's do it!" he responded. "We'll see if he's awesome enough to handle my awesomeness, ja? And if he's not we can just bug him! Kesesese!"

Antonio chuckled and abruptly stood from his spot on The Bridge, taking a moment to dust off the dirt that had collected on his tattered blue jeans before extending a hand to his friend. "Si! Come on, let's go!" he chirped, his smile practically radiating excitement and innocence as he waited for Gilbert to take his hand.

Gilbert simply sat there and stared at Antonio's hand for what seemed like several long moments in his book, but what was really only seconds, eyes wide in incredulity. Finally, with a shrug and a nervous laugh to brush off his embarrassment, he allowed the Spaniard to help him up, placing an insipid hand in the other's warm one and using it as leverage to boost himself up.

When Gilbert had finally stood up, though, Antonio didn't let go.

And Gil was hesitant, at first, but Antonio didn't really seem to care. No, Antonio, in fact, was oblivious to what exactly the whole 'hand-holding' thing could mean for the two of them. All he seemed to know was that it felt good to hold Gilbert's hand, that it made him feel warm, contented, and safe. After a while, Gilbert complied as well, letting Antonio hold his hand and actually finding solace in it. They didn't really think much of it after that, because they were young, and they were friends…and friends held each other's hands, right? They had always been close, even though they'd only known each other for a couple of months, and grasping onto each other like this just made them feel…closer. Yes, Antonio decided, this felt good. This felt right. He felt…whole. Complete, here, with his friend by his side.

But then suddenly, the young Spaniard frowned. No. Something wasn't right. On the contrary, he didn't feel whole, didn't feel complete. There was something missing, though he couldn't begin to fathom exactly what that missing piece was. He flexed his free hand uncomfortably, stretching sunbaked fingers outwards and then curling them back into his palm at least several times, trying to decipher why exactly this hand felt so strange. Until he realized.

That was what didn't feel right.

Although his right hand was holding Gilbert's own, and it made him feel warm and comforted, his other hand felt cold. Empty. As he came to this realization, that feeling of incompletion suddenly heightened until it became almost unbearable. He did not feel complete, as he had thought before. It felt more as if there was this gaping hole in his side that could only be filled in by that one missing piece. Antonio didn't know what that missing piece could possibly be, but he could already feel that there was something else that should be there- someone else- to fill that cavernous void in his heart. Someone else to hold onto that other hand.

Someone he had yet to meet.

And someone he was about to.

[12]

Antonio had always been under the impression that it would be just the two of them.

Ever since he had met Gilbert, Antonio was positive that that bond would never be shattered or intruded upon, that he and Gilbert would always remain the best of friends no matter what, without anyone else getting in the way. Sure, he expected to have other friends in the future; he was a naturally friendly person, ater all. However, Antonio didn't want any of them to be a part of what he and Gilbert had, for it was something special that only the two of them shared.

He had always thought that it would be just two; even though that feeling of incompletion was still gnawing relentlessly at his heart, Antonio just never expected anything else.

But as his life seemed to be drastically changing lately, so had his belief in that statement.

Gilbert and Antonio were standing on the doorstep of the supposed Bonnefoys' house. The German had announced that this house was the one he had seen this apparent 'new kid' moving into a few days previous, and had immediately pulled the young Spaniard forward to the boy's door, knocking on it in a rather loud, brash manner. Antonio had pouted a little bit- after all, he hadn't had time to grow tomatoes for this boy as he had with Gilbert!- but didn't protest further. It wasn't like he could leave either way, with Gilbert's vice-like grip still clutching onto his hand. Antonio didn't want to desert that anyway. He didn't want to feel even more incomplete than he already was. Besides, perhaps it would be fun to meet this new boy! It would be nice to have another playmate…

The door, however, did not open for several moments. This caused Gilbert to become exceedingly irritated. "That's dumb," he remarked as he began to knock on the door once more, even louder than he had earlier, which was quite the incredible feat. "Hey! Answer your freakin' door!"

Still no response.

Gilbert tried a couple more times, but even then, the two still received no answer. With a shrug, Antonio suggested that they just leave it be. "They're probably out somewhere!" he said, nudging the young boy beside him with that ever-present, optimistic grin on his face. "We can come back tomorrow and meet him instead!"

"Eh," replied Gil noncommittally, lowering his free hand mid-knock and stuffing it carelessly into the pocket of his jeans. "He was probably stupid anyways! Let's just go back to th-"

"Ohonhonhon!~ What do we have here?"

The two boys' whipped around at the sudden, unfamiliar voice, a jolt rocketing up their spines at the unexpected surprise. There, standing behind them, was a boy that looked to be about their age, with wavy, blonde hair that wavered down gracefully to reach his chin, and crystal blue eyes that much reminded Antonio of the lake on one of its finer days. This boy was wearing a simple, but elegant looking white button down with the first few buttons left undone, and a pair of black leather slacks- rather formal for someone his age, not to mention that it was the summertime, and the color black absorbed heat like there was no tomorrow. The boy that the other two supposed was 'Francis' had a sly smirk on his face, and was staring at the two on his doorstep, whom were looking rather shocked at the sudden entrance. And now that he thought about it, Antonio could briefly remember the distinct feeling of fingertips ghosting across his cheek before he had heard the voice, and it definitely wasn't the one on his face, that was for certain…

"Dude," patronized Gilbert, who had finally calmed down from his earlier shock and was sending the young French boy a contemptuous glare. "Don't freak me out like that."

Francis laughed that strange sort of 'Honhonhon' laugh again as he reached up to brush a silky blonde lock of hair out of his eyes. "Je suis desole," he said, that sly smirk still plastered across his face. "I apologize, mon cher. I couldn't resist!"

Antonio ignored the comment with his general obliviousness and wrenched his free hand out of his back pocket, extending it out towards the French boy before him with a cheery smile. "I'm Antonio, and this is my friend Gilbert!" he exclaimed happily, much like he had when first meeting Gil. "Welcome to the neighborhood!"

Instead of taking the Spaniard's hand and shaking it politely as Antonio expected the boy to, however, Francis instead took the hand gingerly in his and pressed his lips softly against it in a brief kiss. "A pleasure to meet you, mon ami!" he replied upon emerging and letting go of Antonio's hand, who immediately stuffed it back into his pocket upon instinct, still smiling.

Francis then turned to Gilbert, one eyebrow raised, expecting to give the albino's hand a kiss as well, but Gilbert simply shook his head in response and kept his free hand at his side. "So, yeah, we just came here to meet you and see if you were awesome enough to hang out with us," the German supplied instead, garnet eyes staring into equally startling blue ones as he spoke.

The young blonde laughed and gave the two a patronizing grin. "Moi? Are you sure you want me to intrude? You two already seem so…well acquainted." He then coupled that crafty expression with a wink, and a quick glance towards the two boys' hands, which were still laced together as tightly as they had been before.

At this comment, Gilbert flushed- just slightly- and yanked his hand away from Antonio's, shoving it harshly into his pocket instead with a grimace tugging at his lips. Antonio's face fell a little at the disconnection, and that feeling of incompletion seemed to grow even more terrible than before at the loss of contact. He learned to deal with it, however, stuffing the now free hand into the other pocket of his jeans as compensation.

"Whatever," Gilbert answered, trying to brush it off as if it hadn't happened. "So? You gonna hang out with us or not?"

Francis grinned before doing the most unexpected thing he had ever done that day.

He promptly yanked the two boys' hands out of their pockets and took them in his own without any thought at all, causing their eyes to widen momentarily in all of their confusion. Francis then briefly shot a glance each of their way before dragging the two startled boys forward and off of his threshold. "Of course, mes chers!" he chirped as he began heading for the woods from which the two had come. "Come! I know a good place in here where we can spy on those Vargas brothers! Honhonhon!"

And much to their surprise, Gilbert's lips slowly spread into a bemused grin, his expression suddenly lighting up at the proposed idea. "I like the sound of that!"

Antonio nodded happily in agreement and began to regain his footing, running along towards the designated spot with both Gilbert, and his new friend Francis, grinning as happily as he had when he had first met the bold German boy a few months earlier.

The reason for Gilbert's earlier shock when Francis had taken their hands was clear: he was simply surprised at the unexpected gesture. Antonio, however, had been startled for an entirely different reason.

Because at that simple moment, when Francis had held both of their hands, and all three of them were connected…that nagging feeling of incompletion had gone away. Antonio had thought he needed to feel both hands in his, or clasped around his, sure, but…but just being connected to all three of them in some way seemed to be sufficient.. That was what made him feel…whole. For once. For once…

He felt complete.

Since then, the little town of Coldwater had never seen three boys closer than Francis, Antonio, and Gilbert were.

The three boys spent every waking moment together. Skipping rocks at the bridge (which Antonio and Gilbert had later shown to Francis once they had been assured that they could trust him to keep it a secret), playing tag in Antonio's front yard, and catching lightning bugs in the sticky summer evenings, all the while with fingers intertwined.

Why they always felt the need to hold hands, the rest of the world never quite understood. But to the three of them, they knew. They laced their fingers together because it just made them feel that much closer, that much more together.

For years to come it would be this way. For years to come, they would be together, wreaking havoc everywhere they went, doing stupid things as all teenage boys did, and laughing and smiling together like the best of friends.

For years to come, their fingers would be intertwined.

[14]

"I'VE GOT IT!"

The door to Francis's room was abruptly thrown open with unnecessary force (as always when it came to Gilbert), careening forwards and swaying harshly back and forth on its hinges due to the sudden entrance. Gilbert stood in the doorway, ruby orbs alight with exultation and triumph as a trademark smirk graced his pointed features.

The unexpected arrival of the third member of their trio sent a jolt through the two boys sitting on the edge of the bed, causing them both to jump in surprise. "Mon dieu," remarked Francis, reaching down to pick up the book that had clattered to the floor in all of his shock. "What is it, mon ami?"

Gil grinned and bounded over toward the two, taking the liberty to plop himself down between Antonio and Francis. He slung both arms around the two's shoulders and shot them both an enthusiastic glance. "I finally figured it out!" he exclaimed boisterously. "Me, all by myself! I'm just that awesome!"

Antonio rolled his eyes and returned the favor, slinging an arm around Gilbert's shoulder. Francis did the same, causing the two's hands to meet in the middle. Without hesitation, they intertwined their fingers together. "Figured out what, hmm?" asked the Spaniard, nudging the fiery-eyed boy beside him playfully as he probed for an answer. Francis chuckled, unconsciously squeezing Antonio's hand a little tighter.

"Pfft, duh," chided Gilbert, as if it were obvious, which, to the two rather clueless teens sitting on either side of him, it was not. Gil was practically bouncing out of his seat by this point, eager to share his apparent new discovery with his friends. "I came up with a name for our group."

The Spaniard to Gilbert's left grew suddenly excited, feeding off of the palpable energy that exuded from the bold German boy beside him. "Really? What is it?"

"I'm sure if it's Gilbert, it's bound to contain the word 'awesome', non?" snickered Francis, reaching his free hand up to affectionately ruffle the German's snowy hair. Gil shook the hand off with a small chuckle before his mouth sealed into an indignant little line.

"Nein, it's not. You guys reject all my 'awesome' ideas," he answered. Francis feigned shock at the statement, earning a blatant eye roll from Gilbert in return. "So I came up with something way better! Except, really, I always thought 'The Awesome Gilbert and those other guys' was better."

"Just tell us already, Gil!" said Antonio, practically bursting with an ever-growing, unquenchable curiosity by this point.

"Alright. You sure you're ready for this awesomeness?"

Francis chortled. "I'm sure we can handle it, mon ami."

Gilbert took a deep breath, coupled with a pause, as if he were trying to build the suspense that already seemed to hang, thick and heavy in the air, like molasses. The three had been trying to figure out a suitable name for their little trio for about a month, and though Gilbert, Antonio, and Francis had proposed varying ideas many times (more often Gilbert than the other two), never had any of them been as excited about it as Gil was now. Did that mean that this, this name that Gilbert had come up with, could be- the infamous- one?

It was a ridiculous thing to get so theatric over, really, but they were Antonio, Gilbert, and Francis.

Then finally, with a lopsided grin, Gilbert revealed the secret that he had been holding in since his earlier enthusiastic entrance.

"We call ourselves, The Bad Touch Trio."

There was a brief moment of silence.

The name Gilbert had spoken seemed to hang in the air for one agonizingly suspenseful moment, even more so than before Gilbert's earlier unveiling of the label. The boys sat there mulling it over for a moment. Antonio spoke it quietly to himself, testing the way it rolled off of his tongue. Francis, meanwhile, was quirking an eyebrow, staring off into space as if he were in deep thought.

And as Antonio sat there whispering the name curiously to himself, he suddenly began to perk up. There was.. something about it. Something about it that sounded…right.

Gilbert was absolutely brimming with triumph and confidence as he waited for the two's response, feeling as if he had created something perfect. He knew it was perfect, it had to be perfect. He didn't know why, but it just felt right, seemed to fit their combined personalities, in some sort of odd way.

Then slowly, ever so slowly, Francis nodded. "I like it," he answered with a shrug, causing Gilbert's smug smile to broaden even further. "Why not?"

Antonio beamed at the German beside him, olive tinted eyes alight with excitement. "Si, me too," he trilled with delight, nodding in agreement and watching as Gilbert's grin grew impossibly wide. Then suddenly, the tanned man cocked his head curiously to the side, brows furrowing slightly in confusion. "But, how'd you come up with it?"

Francis smirked. "Oui, Gilbert, where did this 'Bad Touch Trio' come from?" he asked. "Bad Touch, hm? Are you implying something, mon cher?" With a sly glint in the Frenchman's crystal blue eyes he untangled his hand from Antonio's, furthermore removing it from Gilbert's shoulders as he began to reach towards the German, aiming for something located a bit lower down than his shoulders..

Gilbert swatted the hand away with a playful, "No." Francis mock pouted, but didn't protest further. Afterwards, Gil shrugged nonchalantly, gaze flickering between the two boys at his sides. "Don't know, really, just kinda came to me. The awesome me doesn't have to think about these things. I just know," he proclaimed.

That seemed to be a good enough answer for the other two. "Sounds good to me," interjected Antonio as he also slid his arm away from the other boy's shoulders. Gilbert quickly did the same so that all of their arms were free, and almost simultaneously, as if it had been practiced, the three of them flopped back onto the bed so that they were lying down from the waist up, letting their legs hang limply off the edge.

No one spoke for several moments. Then, as if it were just common nature, Antonio reached for Gilbert's hand, who firmly grasped back as soon as he felt the warm hand enclosing around his own. Gilbert grabbed for Francis's hand then, who complied as well. Hand in hand, they lay there, watching as the light streaming through the open window cast mysterious shadows across the cream-colored ceiling.

And with a final, contented sigh before Antonio found his eyes slowly closing, he felt the hand around his squeeze tighter. "We'll be The Bad Touch Trio," he murmured, breaths becoming more evened as he began to drift into a peaceful sleep. "Always."

Years passed.

Their lives went through the usual bumps and curves of any average teenage life: from the ending of middle school to the beginnings of their high school years, sweet sixteens, acquiring their driver's licenses…. But throughout it all, their relationship- whatever exactly it was that it was turning into- never faltered once.

Though there was the occasional scorn and disgust thrown their way as they continued to grow older, the sneered remarks and narrowed gazes of the world, it never deterred them. No matter what people said, no matter what exactly they were together, the one thing they knew was that they would never disband from each other. Nothing would ever succeed in pulling them apart.

Nothing.

[17]

Their lives seemed to be marked by summers.

There was the summer that they had met each other- perhaps one of the most memorable of all. That was the summer when Antonio had finally realized what it felt like to care about someone so deeply, to be cared about. That was the summer that he finally felt complete, and it was only the beginning in a long chain of summers to come.

Then there was the summer that Gilbert's dad had built that tree house in his backyard. The rest of those days were spent in that little house, staying up late and gazing at the stars through that one gaping hole in the roof (that had been created from a mishap involving Antonio, a tomato, and a brick), telling frightening ghost stories, and munching on deliciously homemade popcorn, the familiar aroma of grease and mosquito spray always looming in the humid summer air.

There was the summer that the bridge was remodeled, the summer that Gilbert broke his foot at the skate park, the summer that they had all gone to Lake Superior together when they were 15, and the summer they had first tried alcohol (hadn't that one been a doozy). Summers were always the most memorable time for the three of them, because they were free from the crude whims of society that bound them during their school years. They were permitted to be together, to hold onto each other's hands like they always did without the scrutiny of the rest of the town to prevent them from doing so, behind the obscurities of flowery bushes and towering trees. Summer was their time for adventure, for being together. That was why the summers meant so much to them, why they would always revel in every blistering day spent in the presence of that blindingly bright sun. Each summer was a new treasure cove of memories, things they would always hold closely to their heart.

And perhaps this summer would be the most memorable of all. For this summer was the summer they finally realized their love for each other.

Antonio's face was screwed into a look of deep concentration as he fiddled with the golden pegs at the top of his guitar's neck, plucking a few strings as he listened intently for the right tune to present itself. His efforts so far had turned out unsuccessful, however.

Francis was sitting beside him on the stocky grey rock he was perched on, delicately fingering the petals of a carmine-red rose that he had plucked from the rows of his mother's beautiful garden. He let out a wistful sigh before turning to face the Spaniard beside him, who was still tweaking the pegs of his guitar in order to tune it to the preferred key.

The three of them had decided to have a bonfire on the beach that evening, and so they were. Antonio had taken the liberty of bringing the music, Francis had brought the firewood, and Gilbert had supplied the alcohol. Speaking of Gilbert, he was seated at the Spaniard's feet in the soft, grainy sand, gazing into the smoldering flames of orange and yellow that shimmered against the silky obsidian night sky in a tantalizing sort of dance, and sipping casually from his bottle of Miller Lite beer.

A pair of slender fingers that could only belong to Francis began carding Antonio's luscious sienna locks through them with gentle, loving movements. Antonio's lips crept into a smile at the gesture, and before he knew it his guitar was finally tuned to his liking. The hand that he had reached up to toy with the pegs now slid down to rest comfortably upon the guitar's neck in a gentle caress, fingers settling over the correct strings as he prepared himself to play a song.

"Any suggestions, mis amores?" asked the Spaniard, nudging the Frenchman beside him for a moment before shooting Gilbert an expectant glance. The albino shrugged, taking another swig from his bottle of beer as he did so.

"Whatever you like, mon cher," Francis answered, his fingers now deserting his earlier ministrations as he reached for his own beer, taking a sip before setting it back down onto the ground where it had been placed earlier.

Antonio's grin widened, the reflection of the firelight dancing at the edges of his olive-hued orbs. Then, without another word, he began strumming his guitar, his fingers forming chords and melodies on the guitar's neck as he twanged along. The familiar melody seemed to pique the interest of both of the teens sitting beside him, and their lips slowly spread into bemused smiles at the memories it brought.

"Big wheels, keep on turning," warbled Antonio as the song began, his pleasant voice diffusing easily through the summery night air. "Carry me home to see my kin…"

Gilbert was the first to join in, laughing and clutching his beer bottle firmly in his right hand as he sang the next line, albeit a little less musically than the Spaniard, but still quite decently. "Singing songs about the Southland."

"I miss Alabama once again," interjected Francis, who threw an arm across Antonio's broad, tanned shoulders as he did so.

"And I think it's a sin, yes."

They continued like that throughout the song, smiling and laughing as they always did, making lighthearted comments at each other's singing voices as their skin was warmed by the palpable heat exuding from the now raging fire. Soon enough, Gilbert had created a bit of room for himself on the same rock that Antonio and Francis were sitting upon, squeezing in so that he was sitting on Antonio's left and slinging an arm across his other shoulder. They all but screeched out the chorus once it came around again, not even bothering to sound remotely decent anymore as they sang along.

"Sweet home Alabama!

Where the skies are so blue!

Sweet home Alabama!

Lord I'm coming home to you!"

Antonio's fingers strummed across the guitar one last time before he brought the song to a close, lips still spread into a wide, joyful grin. He could've sworn his cheeks were going to be sore for months from how much he had been smiling.

"Man, I sing like shit," Gilbert snickered after the song was finished, chucking his now emptied bottle of beer carelessly to the side as a low chuckle resonated form his chest. "It's okay though, my awesomeness makes up for it."

Francis chortled and reached from across the Spaniard's shoulders to nudge the German playfully. "And your looks as well, mon ami. Honhonhon!~"

Gilbert nodded in approval, sending a wink the other two's way. "Yeah, I know."

They all laughed together.

And after that, it only seemed natural for Antonio to place a light, affectionate kiss to the German's forehead. And it only seemed natural to receive a kiss on the lips from Francis in return, and then that ever-present lacing of the fingers with first Gilbert, then Francis as they all continued to give each other soft, compassionate kisses. It only seemed natural to be this way, to touch each other, to love each other this way.

That's when Antonio realized it, and at that precise moment, he was sure the others did as well.

He loved these two. Absolutely, positively loved them.

[17]

"I love you guys."

The sun was slowly setting behind the horizon, looking like a warm colored jewel against the lake's glassy surface, its dazzling tones of crimson and gold shimmering against the crystal blue waters. The three boys were gathered once again at the infamous bridge, leaning against the newly added railing and staring wistfully at the sunset. The last days of their precious summer were slowly dwindling, and they were attempting to savor it as much as they could, indulging in every beautiful sight and trying to create as many memories as possible before the coming school year approached.

Beside Antonio was the rest of the 'Bad Touch Trio'. Francis was to his left, his silky blonde hair pulled back into a messy, yet flattering sort of ponytail. He was smoking a cigarette, taking a long, satisfied drag before training his eyes back upon the marvelous sunset. Gilbert was on his other side, toying with the iron cross that was strung around his neck, one elbow propped against the wooden railing as he gazed out upon the beautiful sight.

Antonio, meanwhile, was looking over at Gilbert, his chin resting in the palm of his hand as a gentle smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

It was Gilbert who had voiced the familiar phrase. He looked completely casual, with a pair of onyx, square-framed glasses perched atop the bridge of his nose and his beloved, ever-recognizable 'AWESOME' t-shirt (which had to have been resized a couple of times throughout the years, but miraculously, it still fit) adorning his previously bare, damp chest from when they had been swimming in the lake earlier that day. Though instead of his usual wide, triumphant grin and the confident boastings of 'awesome', his lips were spread into an uncharacteristically loving smile as he continued to stare silently out over the sunset.

The phrase had been said before- on many different occasions, in fact, and by all three of the boys. Of course, they had always meant it, but today the words spoken felt ultimately different than any other time they had been said. Now, after what had happened the night before, the simple expression seemed to hold more meaning. And at that moment, that one perfect moment as they gazed out at the sunset with bright, wondrous eyes, this indescribable feeling seemed to overtake Antonio, and as he simultaneously grasped the hands of the two teens beside him, the emotions seemed to run through them like an electric current. Antonio knew that the others felt it too, yet they didn't need to say or do anything beyond that simple gesture. It was all they needed just to be there was each other, because that's how it always had been.

And how it always would be.

[18]

The sultry, muggy feel of humidity clung to the summery night air, veiling the atmosphere in a thick blanket of warm, sticky heat. It encased the three boys that were hiding in a cluster of bushes by the lakeside in a cloud of steamy warmth and pleasure, causing their already flushed, exposed skin to be set even more ablaze.

Eager, ravenous hands were fervent to touch, to feel, so, with all of the tension that had been bottled up for the past couple of years, they did. Slightly chapped lips and shaky hands devoured any exposed flesh that was not of their own, exploring the toned bodies and the beautiful expanses of skin that finally lay within their reach. Coming from the cluster of bushes was a cacophony of moans and groans, what any unfortunate bystander (thank god there weren't any at the moment) would deem one of those heated moments of 'teenage passion'. But what would not have been heard were the murmurs of sweet nothings whispered into each other's ears, and the gentle cries of 'I love you' between shallow breaths.

Antonio was so lost right now, all rational thought promptly thrown out the window as he was submerged within a dizzying haze of love and lust that just felt so wonderfully good. He began peppering the pale chest before him with a cluster of kisses as he felt a hand that belonged to an entirely different person slowly massaging his back, roaming downwards to gently caress his ass, and a chaste kiss was placed to the Spaniard's tanned shoulder, and yes..

And sure, maybe this was wrong. Maybe it was wrong to love more than one person, but Antonio, no matter how much he loved both Gilbert and Francis, just didn't- couldn't- feel complete with only one of them by his side. No, he needed the both of these men, both of the two people that he loved, or else things wouldn't feel right, wouldn't be as absolutely perfect as they were now. Without the two of them, Antonio just didn't feel whole. So what if it was wrong? He loved these two people more than anything else in the world, and he had ever since they were little kids; spending long hours at the local arcade, warm days swimming together in the lake and roasting marshmallows by the fire during the early summers. All of the memories and wonderful times they had shared, everything, they had always done together.

Always together.

Always.

Antonio pressed a soft kiss to Gilbert's shoulder, earning him a soft, breathless moan and an even deeper flush of that tantalizingly pale skin. Francis was now replicating what Antonio had done earlier, hands placed gingerly on the Spaniard's hips as he littered his back with hungry kisses. And as Antonio felt warm fingers intertwine with his, nothing had ever felt more right, more perfect than it had at this precise moment.

A smile slowly crept across Antonio's face. He loved these two. Yes, he loved them so much. This was how things were meant to be.

"Francis…G-Gilbert," Antonio murmured, his breath suddenly hitching as Francis's hand crept slowly down his stomach. "Te quiero mucho."

The fingers around his tightened in a silent response, and Antonio's heart swelled.

[18]

They had always known.

From the moment they had expressed their love for each other aloud, they had known. But each of them had been too afraid to voice that dreaded fact that- despite their countless efforts at proving it wrong- undoubtedly reined true. They had carried on in stoic silence, pushing that nagging voice in the back of their minds down further and further until it became almost inaudible, refusing to believe that it could ever be right, that that fact could ever be true. So they continued on with feigned smiles and forged laughter, their true happiness slowly fading away as the last days of their final summer did the same.

Now, however, that haunting feeling was beginning to reemerge. It had always been there- that persistent little voice trilling in unpleasant, sneered tones about that thing that they all knew to be true- but now it was becoming more and more prominent as summer came to a close. There was no avoiding that one inevitable sentence -that seemed to hang, unvoiced, in the air whenever they saw each other- any longer.

And now, as Gilbert finally voiced those three, terrible words aloud, it hit them. Everything they had suppressed came surfacing back in a dizzying whir or emotion, and their hearts seemed to literally sink into their chests at the appalling statement.

"This can't work."

It had taken a lot of guts for Gilbert to speak those three words- the words that seemed to confirm the underlying emotions they had all been feeling for the past couple of months. It had taken almost all of his strength simply to force them through clenched teeth, to say aloud what the others had been too fearful to voice. And it hurt, it stung like salt in a fresh wound to hear those words fall from the snowy-haired teen's lips, but what was there to do? The fact of the matter was, he was right, and no matter how tightly they clasped each other's hands in their own, it couldn't change the fact, couldn't succeed as a solacing comfort like the action always had.

Antonio pressed a free hand to his eyes, fighting to reign in the tears that threatened to escape the tightly guarded prison of his bottle green eyes. "There has to be something," he whispered shakily, desperate to keep alive something that had been his sustenance, his entire life, for as long as he could remember. "Something we can do…We can visit each other…Come back here for vacations...There has to be a way…"

Francis shook his head sadly and reached a hand up to gently stroke the Spaniard's hair in a calming gesture. "Non, mon amour," he mumbled, a thin, watery smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'm afraid there is none."

Gilbert tightened his grip on Antonio's hand, his once fiery, exuberant gaze now looking dismal and forlorn. "I wish it could fucking work," he muttered angrily, fighting to keep the tremble out of his voice. "But it can't. I have to move back to Germany with West…you're going out to college to Michigan State….Francis is moving to New York…" The German took a deep, shuddering breath before finishing, trying his best to compose himself as the hand that wasn't holding Antonio's clenched tightly at his side, fingernails biting harshly into his sweaty white palms. "…It just…can't."

Antonio removed his hand from his eyes then, turning to stare at the two faces of the people he most knew and loved. He wanted there to be a way, wanted to say something that could reassure the two that it was going to be alright, that they were wrong and they could still be together, be the Bad Touch Trio still….but he couldn't find the words, no matter how hopelessly he grappled for them.

Why? Because even he knew that Gilbert and Francis were right. Even he knew that they couldn't last.

"Joder," Antonio swore, suddenly throwing his arms around the two and pulling them into a tight embrace. The two quickly reciprocated, encircling their arms around each other and hugging the others as tightly as possible, as if if any one of them were to let go, their lovers would suddenly dissipate into nothing but a wispily thin cloud of smoke and become forever lost in the humid summer air. They simply sat there embracing each other, breathing in each other's scent, and relishing in the fact that they were all there, together, holding each other. Because it was probably going to be the last time they got to do that in a long while.

It was quiet for several agonizing moments. Then, finally, with a quivering voice, Antonio pierced the eerie silence.

"We'll always be The Bad Touch Trio…right?"

The arms around him tightened.

"Duh," replied Gilbert, a grin threatening to tug at his lips, despite everything. "We won't die out…We're too awesome for that."

And for the last time in a long time, they laughed; laughed together, as the sun slowly began to set behind the horizon.

After that, things began to change.

Antonio went off to college at State to get his degree.

Francis moved to New York City.

Gilbert moved back to his hometown in Germany with his younger brother.

The Bridge was taken down due to structural complications.

Many empty promises were made, many reassuring words spoken, but they meant nothing. The "I'll come visit someday"'s and the "we'll get together sometime"'s were all fake, no matter how much the three of them all wished for those words to be true. No matter how badly they wanted it, things weren't like how they used to be, and they never would be again.

But one phrase, one phrase that was uttered at the end of every one of their phone calls, always remained true, even after they had started to neglect calling each other, and even after they had stopped talking to each other all together.

"I miss you."

[25]

7 years.

It had been 7 years since Antonio had last seen his two best friends, Gilbert and Francis.

It was times like these that he found himself still missing the two, times like these when he wondered if it would feel as glorious as it felt back then to grasp those two warm, slender hands in his own. Of course, he really never did stop missing the two, but as he sat here in his stuffy apartment complex in Traverse City, gazing at the framed photo clutched in his tanned, calloused hands, that feeling of longing that was always lodged within the deepest crevices of his mind seemed to intensify drastically.

Though, it wasn't tears that the familiar picture invoked, wasn't a woeful frown or that inevitable ache he always expected to feel in his heart, but…a smile. It was one of the Spaniard's favorite pictures, his most treasured, actually, of the three of them: Antonio, Gilbert, and Francis. Their 17 year old selves were at The Bridge as they always used to be, perched atop the railing that had been added that summer and grinning like total idiots. Gilbert sat in the middle, a wide grin that could only belong to that very audacious German boy spread across his face. Antonio could've sworn he could catch that mischievous glimmer in those blood red orbs even through a photograph. By Gilbert's side was himself and Francis, Francis to the left, his hair pulled back into that recognizable ponytail and a beautiful white rose clutched in the hand that wasn't holding Gilbert's own. Then, there was Antonio- himself- looking happier than he ever had in his life, clutching onto Gilbert's other hand and placing a playful kiss on the albino's cheek.

What he wouldn't give to relive that moment again.

The Spaniard sighed and placed the photograph back on its respectful spot by his bedside table, running a hand through his tousled auburn locks. Of course, things were drastically different now. Antonio had found new love in the most unexpected way possible, with the most unexpected person possible. The 'neighbor kid' Lovino had always resented him, at least… Antonio had thought that he had. When Antonio discovered, however, that Lovino was going to the same University as him, he had almost been…delighted. Antonio found himself wanting to start to get to know the Italian better, and before long, he soon found that Lovi wasn't as horrid and rude as others proclaimed him to be. The Spaniard even started to...fall in love with Lovino.

Though, at first, Antonio had tried to deny it. Somewhere deep down in his heart, he had felt like he was betraying Gilbert and Francis for loving Lovino….although he knew the other two had probably moved on as well. Later on, however, he had pushed past it, because even though, somewhere deep down, he still loved those two, he knew he loved Lovino now. And he would always love Lovino.

Yet sometimes, Antonio couldn't help but to look back on the past and miss it just a bit. The olive-eyed Spaniard laid there in a reminiscent sort of silence, carding the silky auburn locks of the peacefully sleeping Italian beside him through his fingers. Even if Gilbert and Francis were to come back, things could never be as they used to be. And yet, the Spaniard couldn't help thinking….what if they did come back? What….what would things be like for them?

Suddenly, startling both Antonio and the Italian by his side, there was a rather loud knock on the door. Lovino jolted awake, propping himself up on his elbows and rubbing his eyes tiredly, obviously infuriated that his peace had been disturbed. "You get that," Lovino ordered bluntly, rolling over on his side and promptly placing a pillow over his ears to block out the next set of knocks that came forth.

With a confused expression overtaking his sunny features, Antonio shucked the blankets off of himself and arose from his bed, hastily pulling on a pair of pants and a t-shirt before shuffling over to the front door of his apartment, blinking feverishly to keep himself from closing his eyes and falling asleep.

The person was still knocking- loudly- when Antonio finally reached the door.

"Seriously, Tonio, open the verdammt door already!"

Antonio froze.

He knew that voice.

That…no…it couldn't be.

Antonio stood there for a few moments in complete and utter shock, eyes wide in incredulity and disbelief at the sound of such a familiar voice. How could this be…? No…It wasn't true. He expected it was just a trick his mind was playing on him, that instead of finding Gilbert standing in his doorway when he flung the door open, it would just be his landlord asking for the rent again, or something else along those lines. It must've been a trick, because there was no way that it could be Gilbert—

And when Antonio hastily swung the door wide open, he discovered that he had been right.

It wasn't Gilbert standing in his doorway.

It was Gilbert and Francis.

…He was devoid of anything to say.

It was funny, he noticed as his eyes swept over the two men standing in his doorway, they hadn't changed much at all. The only thing that had transformed considerably was their height; both men had grown a bit taller, though, Antonio had as well, so it wasn't much of a change. But otherwise, Gilbert was still that fiery eyed German boy the Spaniard had met on that one fine summer afternoon, and Francis was still the silky haired Frenchman from his youth.

Antonio then decided that this must've been some sort of dream, that this couldn't be real. Though even so, he couldn't help but let a smile slowly spread across his face at seeing the familiar lips of the two men he had known since childhood spread into equally cheerful grins.

"Hey," breathed Gilbert finally, flashing a brilliant set of teeth at the befuddled Spaniard standing on the other side of the doorway. "We were both in town, thought we'd come and see you. … I suggested it though. 'Cause I'm awesome."

Ah, that was something Antonio hadn't heard in years. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed just that one simple phrase.

Antonio still found he couldn't speak. He was too taken aback at the sight before him. So the first thing he did, before even saying a word or inviting the two into his home, was to reach out, grasp the hands of the two men standing in his doorway, and intertwine their fingers together.

[25]

"Things can't be how they used to be."

They were sitting on Antonio's creamy white couch together. Lovino had come to see who exactly was at the door earlier, but upon seeing who it was, had decided to go back to sleep so he could leave them in private. The Italian had known that the three had always been close- to what extent he wasn't exactly sure, though, but he had known. So he figured it would be best to leave the three men in peace…for now, that was.

Now here they all sat. The three of them had spent some time avoiding the serious conversations, supplying meaningless chatter about how they had been these past couple of years, how work had been, what their love lives were like….There had been a few playful remarks about Antonio and Lovino, but other than that, the cheerful demeanor of their words slowly began to wane and fade into a more bleak, dismal tone. It was not insignificant small talk they were here for, and truthfully, they couldn't escape the heart of the matter for long.

"I know," replied Gilbert somberly at Antonio's words, his grip tightening on the Spaniard's hand as a thin, rueful smile graced his lips.

"Oui," interjected Francis, turning to catch a glimpse of the two boys at his side. "Though…" he muttered, his lips suddenly spreading into a reminiscent sort of grin, "I'll never forget."

Antonio's startling green eyes lit up with the sudden flood of fond memories that came rushing back to him; humid, sweltering days spent holding hands at The Bridge and long nights by the fire, making love on the banks of the lake when no one was watching…The recollections brought a warm smile to his face, and he chuckled lowly before responding. "Yeah….All those summers…The Bridge….."

Francis spoke then, adding onto the Spaniard's list. "The tree house…making love by the lake...Wonderful times, non?"

Gilbert nodded in agreement. "It was awesome," he replied. "And…we're definitely still The Bad Touch Trio. I toldya, that stuff never dies out."

Still the Bad Touch Trio. Antonio liked the sound of that.

After that statement, the three of them simply sat there in the peaceful quiet, not daring to rupture the silence.

Things were different now, it was true. However, although they weren't together anymore, the one thing that hadn't changed was how good it felt to hold each other's hands. It still made them feel connected, maybe not in the way that it had all those years before, but there was still that feeling of completion Antonio felt when the other two's hands were clasped in his. So they sat there, together, for one last time, the three members of The Bad Touch Trio.

With fingers intertwined.

"Always."

A/N: Don't know why that song at the beginning. Reminds me of little Antonio in this fic. x3

BONUS INTERWEB COOKIE FOR ANYONE WHO CAN TELL ME THE NAME OF THE SONG THAT ANTONIO HUMS IN THE SECOND 12 SECTION! ;D

Well. Hope you enjoyed that, mi Francia, and everyone else who read this! Reviews are love, as always. ;3

~I.S.