★彡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 彡★

[𝟎𝟗] 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

'God, please give me answers.'

. . .

There was no way he was going to tell Fernand. What would the Alsatian think of him?

He'd surely reject him, that's the thing. And hate him, and humiliate him about it in front of the rest of the group whenever he'll get the chance, or something petty like that.

But Fernand wouldn't do that. He isn't petty.

Maybe he can tell him.

'Let's just hope it won't get awkward after that.'

⊱ ────── {⋆⌘⋆} ────── ⊰

Three days after he finally realized and slowly accepted his feelings for the other.

Took him three days to think it all through, and to get the answers he wanted.

Now, he found himself in the courtyard of the school, leaning against a wall, his little brother next to him, eyeing him questioningly. Why questioningly, because the eldest has not said a word since they arrived, and keeps zoning out, even in class, where he was surprisingly quiet too.

What Gaston had also noticed, was the occasional, almost continuous glances Marcel would shoot at Fernand. With no malicious look in his eyes, he couldn't really tell what expression was present in those eyes.

"Okay, Marcel, I'm tired of this non-stop silence, what the hell is up with you today?"

"Uh? W-What? Did you say something?" Marcel stammered, looking like he just got snapped back into reality.

"And you aren't even listening, great..." Gaston muttered to himself, before turning back to the other. Marcel softly sighed, before asking again, "Well, what were you saying?"

Gaston lifted his head up, replying, "So I was saying, well, asking, what the hell is up with you today?"

The older male froze. Nervously, he stammered, "Well, it's just-"

The sounds of someone imitating a bird were suddenly echoing throughout the courtyard.

'Fuck.' Gaston widened his eyes in defeat.

'Good.' Marcel sighed in relief.

Back in class again, and Gaston would make sure that he was certain of what he would be seeing, because he did not want it to be a product of his imagination in the end, and he'd just ridicule himself in front of his brother, in a way.

And boy was it not a product of his imagination, at all.

Marcel would sometimes be practically staring at Fernand, in almost a loving way, just explained everything.

Loving.

Marcel loved Fernand?

. . .

He was almost certain now, and he was going to confront Marcel about it right in the beginning of lunch, so no bird sounds to interrupt them.

When lunchtime was announced, Gaston immediately went to the back of the class to his his brother, and dragged him along till they were outside, and brought him behind a large tree bark, away from the earshot and sight of everybody.