Elizabeta's head snapped to the side as the sickening sound filled the air. Her mouth fell open in a gaping expression, and she slowly pursed her lips, fingering the rising red welt on her cheek.
The Hungarian raised her eyes to give a death glare at the albino in front of her. He stared back in shock with eyes wide as the moon and his hand still raised. Gilbert began stuttering incoherently, groping to find the words to explain his sudden action.
She didn't even give him the chance.
Elizabeta quickly reached around him and drove her fist into the back of his head. The Prussian gave a shout of pain, gritting his teeth and rubbing the new lump. "What the hell?" he screeched.
"You hit me, Gilbert! You. Don't. Fucking. HIT ME!" Elizabeta seethed. Gilbert glared at her, his nostrils flaring, and after a moment of contemplation, he swung his leg back and nailed her in the shin.
Elizabeta gasped and nearly buckled under the sudden weight her body posed to her aching appendage. She caught herself just in time to hear Gilbert scoff at her. "Not so tough after all, are you? Maybe you should get over yourself, Liz!" he barked at her, placing his hands on his hips and striking a defiant pose.
The brunette winced as she carefully tested out her now-bruised shin, and she struggled to straighten her posture so that she would be at least nose-to-chin with her enemy. When she was satisfied with her small increase in height appearance, she promptly lifted her hand and struck Gilbert across the face with a slap. The albino reeled backwards, cursing at the sting in his face, and when he brought his infuriated, crimson eyes back to her, she crossed her arms.
"I should get over myself? Bullshit! I'm not the one who runs around showing off and flirting with every damn girl I come across!" she snapped in return.
Despite the intensity of the situation, what Gilbert Beilschmidt and Elizabeta Héderváry were going through was nothing new.
They had always been inclined to bicker with each other every time they got the chance, even in their childhood years. It was a natural thing for them to accuse each other and call each other names, despite the fact that some of their accusations were startlingly hypocritical. It wasn't that the two hated each other. In fact, it was almost the exact opposite. The two were good friends, and oftentimes able to have peaceful conversations with each other. It was a good thing they were friends, too. After going through a stressful divorce with her husband, it was the only thing keeping Elizabeta from taking a knife to Gilbert's throat during their violent spats.
This time, it had all started over a girl.
Elizabeta's first mistake had been inviting Gilbert out to eat, as a means of relaxing after a particularly rough night she had gone through. Her second had been letting him escort her back to her house. The Prussian was a womanizer, and Elizabeta was aware of that fact. She somewhat ignored that side of him, and told herself it was natural for a single man to fawn over pretty women. However, ever since her divorce, it was as if he was flirting more and more with other women just to irritate her. The breaking point came on their way home, when they passed by a pair of blonde siblings making their way down the sidewalk. The older of the two was a stern-looking boy who wrapped his arm around his little sister in an attempt to keep her warm. While Elizabeta had been admiring their intimate closeness, Gilbert had done possibly one of the most stupid things in he had ever done in his life.
He broke away from Elizabeta, moved over to the girl (who was no older than twelve, from what the Hungarian could tell), and kissed her full on the lips.
Immediately, the yelling started. Shouts of anger and curses poured out of the throats of both Elizabeta and the girl's older brother, the latter of whom rushed away, casting glances of hatred towards the albino while hurrying his sister along. Gilbert had laughed at first, greatly amused at his stupid antics, but the more they walked, the more Elizabeta yelled at him, and by the time they had gotten to her house, he was fed up.
The two had gone inside, continuing their argument until they reached the living room of Elizabeta's house. Their conflict continued to grow and grow, until Gilbert finally lost his "awesome" cool and dealt Elizabeta a blow to the face.
And that is how the two found themselves in their current position, both sporting red marks on their cheeks and bruises in different places, staring at each other and each unwilling to succumb to the other's will.
Gilbert massaged the hand imprint that was becoming increasingly visible against his pale skin. "Fucking bitch..." he growled under his breath, diverting his eyes to the floor in discontent.
"What the hell did you just call me?"
Gilbert's gaze shot back up to Elizabeta's face, twisted in rage. She raised her hand again and his red eyes widened in fear. Then, the albino fled.
This instigated an all-out pursuit throughout the house. Gilbert began scrambling across the furniture, scattering tables and glass and paper in his desperate attempt to get away. Elizabeta followed in his path of destruction, wrecking the remnants of her living room's decor. Gilbert slid into the hall on his socks and began sprinting down it, slamming into the walls in disorientation. He barreled into the kitchen, hurriedly grabbing up one of the plates on the counter.
Elizabeta followed right on his heels, and as soon as she realized where the chase had taken her, she immediately reached for a frying pan that was hanging by the stove. Her prey yelped, unwilling to be beaten senseless by the object, and, without a second though, he brought the plate down on the brunette's skull.
The plate shattered, pieces of porcelain raining down and littering the tile floor. Again Gilbert found himself stunned by his sudden decision, and he hurriedly leaned down to his victim, who had doubled over in pain and pressed her forehead to the counter. Before he could even brush her arm, though, Elizabeta stood up quickly and socked the albino squarely in the jaw.
This time, Gilbert howled in pain, folding both hands over his mouth instinctively. He stumbled, leaning over and shutting his eyes tightly. For a few moments, the two stood completely still, their heavy breathing filling their air.
Gilbert broke the silence with a loud spitting noise, and a few specks of blood spattered the impeccable kitchen floor. He straightened again, his eyes narrowed and his eyebrows slanted at Elizabeta. Blood trickled down his chin from his busted lip, and it strangely matched the blood that streamed down from the cut on his childhood friend's forehead.
"That's it, Elizabeta!" the Prussian stated boldly, his voice cracking slightly in anger. "The Awesome Me is not gonna get pushed around any more!"
As soon as the albino took a step forward, Elizabeta whirled around on her heels and quickly dashed off. Gilbert cursed, intent on following her now that the roles of attacker and victim had been reversed. There was no way he was going to let her get away with ruining his trademark smirk with a swollen lip.
The two thudded through the house once again, this time leaving less of an aftermath due to Elizabeta's carefully picked path. The Hungarian hurried to the stairs, taking them two at a time in leaps in attempt to flee from her Prussian pursuer.
Gilbert, however, was not as graceful, and when he tried to take two of the stairs instead of one, he immediately tripped, and came tumbling down the stairs. He collided with Elizabeta's legs, and the two both fell to the bottom of the staircase, landing in a heap against the wall.
"Damn it!" Elizabeta wailed, immediately reaching out to pull her right leg closer to her body. The action was difficult, though, since a certain albino had fallen on top of her and had yet to remove himself. Pain pulsed through the brunette's shin, which had already been bruised because to the kick it had received earlier. As soon as she touched her leg, she was sure it was broken somewhere.
Elizabeta hissed as another ache reverberated through her injured appendage due to Gilbert's slow attempt to lift himself to his feet using his hands, which were planted on either side of her. He winced, rubbing his back softly and letting out a sharp breath. When he turned to his opponent, though, his pained expression vanished.
Elizabeta stared up at him, unable to hide the discomfort in her eyes. She bit her lip and tried to look resilient as she waited for another blow from the albino's fist. However, Gilbert just looked down at her sadly, an apologetic look crossing his face. He stayed the way he was, leaning over her for several moments before relenting and flopping down on his back beside her curled up form. The albino carefully lifted up her head, slipping his arm around it and bringing it to rest on his chest.
The duo was silent for a long time, both letting out an occasional hiss or irregular breath in response to their stinging wounds. Elizabeta reluctantly angled her gaze so she could stare into the Prussian's face, which was scrunched ever so slightly in pain, eyes closed and nose wrinkled. She paused for a moment, examining his expression, then carefully lifted her upper body so that she could now lean over him, their noses brushing briefly. Her hair fell down beside the albino's head, and Gilbert slowly opened his eyes, giving her a quizzical and surprised expression.
Before he could say anything, Elizabeta lowered her head and gave him a quick kiss on the lips, ignoring the blood that brushed her face from his injury. Then, she rolled over to face away from him, rejecting the hand that had held her close and ignoring the twinge her irritated leg gave off. She could practically feel the albino beaming at her back, but despite how well she knew him, Elizabeta never expected him to utter the words that came out of his mouth next.
"Hey, does this mean I get some sex?"
Elizabeta scowled, slapping his hand away when she saw it appear at the corner of her vision. It was just like Gilbert to not read the mood. "Go fuck yourself." she grumbled in response, curling up into a ball again.
"Aw, c'mon, Liz..."
The rest of the house was already trashed, Elizabeta thought. Maybe if she destroyed the bed he would be discouraged.
Maybe if she burned it...