Title: Tutor Me, Mathew Williams!
Author: SYNdicate 930
Summary: Who cares about if they have History together? It's all about Chemistry, right?

NOTE: I attend highschool in Canada, and most highschools in my province start at 9:00 and end at 3:40. Even though this is supposed to be set in the US, I'm sticking with the time I start/end school just so it'll be easier for me to write "orz

Also, at my school, my classes change at the start of second semester, and I was wondering if that was the case in US high schools as well. I have absolutely no clue as to how high schools in the US work orz Also, I'll be using random bits of Spanish, German, and French with the help of Google translate. If anything is completely off, please, tell me! And please forgive my mistakes and errors. This is my first fanfiction, so please be nice? ^^;

Chapter one: Intro

"Hey, Gilbert, look who I found!" Gilbert had been throwing a few unneeded books into his locker when a voice from down the hall called out to him, laced in a familiar Mediterranean accent. As he pulled his red chemistry text book out of his backpack, he looked past his opened locker door. Immediately, he spotted a pair walking towards him and dropped it into his bag.

He watched as two boys made their way down the hall, through the throngs of people who were making their way out of their last period class in a hurry to leave. Luckily, Gilbert had been dismissed early. Waving an arm happily, Antonio smiled at him, his other arm around Francis' shoulders.

Gilbert, as well as Antonio, had not seen Francis for a week. At first, the two did not think of it as anything to be worried about, seeing as he often skipped school to stay home and had a terribly weak immune system. But as the first two days passed without a sign or word from the boy, concern began to work its way into their hyperactive minds. After calling his mobile numerous times on the third day, Gilbert and Antonio had decided to go to his house on the fourth day.

They had parked in the driveway, and walked up the steps towards the front door. After ringing the doorbell and knocking desperately on the door, they waited. There was no response. Standing at nearly 5'11", Gilbert reached over the doorway and grabbed the spare key Francis left for them. Stepping inside, they realized no one was home. The lights were turned off, and the house was devoid of any life. They thought someone had broken in and kidnapped Francis, so both boys searched the house for any signs or clues they could give to the police if that were the case.

The two had overly-imaginative minds, so the longer they searched the worse things came to look in their eyes. When they reached Francis' room, they held their breaths and walked in. They had expected to see the bed a strew, things broken and smashed, and his personal belongings missing. Instead, they saw everything in place, nothing neither missing nor stolen, and his large bed neatly done.

The next day, they became frantic. Things didn't feel right when neither he nor Antonio could contact Francis, and they couldn't help but worry like mothers sending their children to school for the very first time. Their families had been friends even before they were born, and introduced them to one another as new-born baby boys. They had been friends for so long; neither of them could even remember how it all really began. But ever since, they all knew they were three best friends, and grew to become inseparable.

So, after a full week with no sign of Francis, Gilbert couldn't help but stop and stare.

"Hey, where have you been, connard?" He asked as they came to a stop.

"Yeah, where have you been?" Antonio agreed. Gilbert threw a friendly punch at Francis' arm, who shrugged.

"What can I say? My mom made me miss school." Antonio removed the arm he had resting around his shoulders to stand beside Gilbert and imitate his blatantly skeptical expression. Gilbert didn't believe him at all. He knew his mom was young and was more of a teen than she was an adult or responsible parental figure, but he highly doubted that she would make him miss that much school. Gilbert raised an eyebrow, and Francis reacted immediately. "Hey! What's with that look, you guys?"

Gilbert was the first to speak up. "Do you really think hiding behind your mom and saying she made you miss school is a legit excuse? Dude, Antonio and I don't have shit for brains, y'know."

Antonio snickered and Francis began to explain that a high school friend of his mom's had just moved into town with her family, and, as a result, she forced him into helping them move in. According to the French boy, the family had moved into a house on Antonio's street just a few minutes from the school by car. The story was believable, and Gilbert and Antonio bought it. After explaining the main reason, he brought up the two boys that were going to attend school with them the following week.

Though they had grown up together since they were toddlers, Francis traveled a lot between America, France, and Canada. While in Canada, he and his mother would stay with her friends and he was introduced to the two boys and they quickly became friends.

The albino continued to clean out his bag, ridding them of his school books and weight, until there was nothing left but a thin notebook, his favorite running shoes, and hoodie. In the background, he listened to Francis' story about his weeks past events. Gilbert yawned, and lifted his hand. Sliding his fingers absentmindedly across the smooth surface of his locker, he was reminded of his Chemistry book he dropped into his bag and he threw it into his locker without a second thought. Closing his locker door with a small kick of his foot, Gilbert followed Francis and Antonio out the large front doors and into the warm September air, hands in his pocket, and a charming smile on his pale face.


Later in the evening, Gilbert had dinner with his grandparents and younger brother, Ludwig.

Gilbert had begun to notice something strange about the older folk in his city. The older people seemed to get, the more immature they would somehow become. Beside him, his grandmother, Adelaide, was laughing heartily as his grandfather, Stefan, sat down on a yellow whoopee cushion she had thrown onto his seat just as he sat down. A string of laughter and curse words fell from his grandfather's lips, and, being the good sport he was, gave Gilbert's grandmother a high-five from across the dinner table.

"That was some good shit, dear. Good job." Stefan praised as he smiled widely at her.

They were the liveliest seventy year-olds he had ever seen. And he was damn proud of them. He raised a fist towards his grandmother, who brought hers up in response and bumped knuckles with him as Ludwig sat quietly across from Gilbert. Taking a sip of his water, he looked over at his younger brother.

Ludwig Beilschmidt was a sophomore with an +A average, blonde hair, and blue eyes that resembled their grandparents'. Despite being a year younger, he stood at six feet tall with a muscular build, intimidating aura, and possessed the maturity that always made people wonder if he really was the younger of the two. Growing up, he did not talk much. He was always the serious and responsible one in the house.

"So, what are you two boys up to tonight?" Their grandmother asked happily.

"I'm going to stay home and study." Ludwig answered easily. Stefan shot him a strange look and reached over to place a hand on his shoulder.

"You know, back in my day, we went out on Friday nights." He snickered, his old face showing the wrinkles near his eyes that indicated a life full of smiling and laughter. Gilbert looked over to Adelaide and saw the same. "What about you, Gilbert?"

Placing a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth, he chewed, swallowed, and took a long sip of water. "Hmm… I might go out and go for a jog or something. I have to get ready since football's starting up soon, you know."

"That's my boy!" His grandfather called proudly. "You too, Ludwig. One of you has to have the brains in this family."

"Oh, hush, dear." His grandmother called with a giggle.

"You wanna go, grandpa?" Gilbert grinned. Pushing his empty plate to the side, he rested his elbow on the table. "Let's arm wrestle, you and me!"

His grandfather did the same, and, flexing his muscles, Gilbert reached for the older man's hand. At the command of his grandmother, they began to push with all their force. In his peripheral, he watched as Ludwig and Adelaide cleared the table and brought their plates to the kitchen. Gilbert struggled as Stefan pushed on his hand roughly. As it hit the table, Stefan cheered, throwing his hands up.

"Bam! I win again!" For a man who had just hit seventy, he was still at the top of his game. "Sixteen years, and you still have yet to beat me, boy!"

Gilbert looked up to his Grandfather in defeat, and followed him into the kitchen to help do the dishes. As his grandmother and grandfather washed and rinsed their plates, glasses, and cutlery, he and Ludwig dried them off and put them back into their respective cupboards and drawers.

He listened idly to Stefan and Adelaide converse, with small comments coming from Ludwig every now and then, as he wondered how he was going to spend the rest of his Friday. He already planned on going for a jog around the neighbourhood and maybe hit the gym, but he hadn't thought about what to do after. Francis had to catch up on all the homework he had missed during his absences, and Antonio had to help his family for his cousin's Quinceañera on Saturday.

After placing the last dish into the cupboard near the sink, Gilbert quickly ran up the stairs and changed into his sweats. Dressed in a black muscle shirt that revealed a muscular upper body, and matching black basketball shorts, he opened the closet beside the front door and reached for his running shoes. As he slid the closet closed, a large mirror came into view and he stared at himself. He flexed, and posed, and grinned at himself proudly.

For a moment, he wondered whether or not he wanted to bring his iPhone with him in case he wanted to listen to music. But, it was too late now. His shoes were on, tied tightly and perfectly, and he didn't want to get the floor dirty. In the living room, Ludwig called out to him. "You left your phone on the table!"

"Are my ear buds with it?" He asked curiously.

There was a pause. "Yeah."

Gilbert grinned. "Wanna, like, bring them over to me like the awesome little brother you are?"

He heard him sigh, and the younger male walked over with his requested items. Gilbert took his iPhone and ear buds with a thankful smile and pat on the back. "Thanks, bro!"

And with that, he ran out the door and down his street. With his music on shuffle, he let the beats, rhythms, and fast-tempo's run through his veins and push him to work harder. He had gone down his usual route around his neighborhood, and then back to his house in a circle. It had been almost an hour, and his breath was beginning to come out in short pants.

When Gilbert turned onto Antonio's street just a few blocks away from his, he began to slow down his pace as he eyed the large FedEx truck in the driveway of a red bungalow. As sweat dampened his silvery hair, he wondered idly if the house belonged to the family Francis helped move in.

Strong looking men jumped out from the front of the truck, and walked over to the back of the large white vehicle. They opened up the trunk, and began unloading the items within into the open garage. On the front lawn, a few couches, mattress frames, and other furniture sat on the green grass in front of the house waiting to be carried into their new home. A just sold sign stood proudly in front of all the furniture, swaying in the light September breeze.

Gilbert wondered silently who would be the newest addition to the East Riverstone Community. Francis had mentioned having close ties with the family, which probably meant a snobby, rich family had moved in. His mind slowly wondered off from the thought of the family, and zoomed in on thoughts about the two boys Francis had grown up with on his trips to Canada.

What were they like? Were they like Francis? Did they have weird Canadian accents like the ones on television?

Nearing the house, he tried looking for any other signs of what the two boys would be like. Gilbert always had an interest in learning about new students at East Riverstone. He was like a boy with a brand new toy; eager and curious.

At the sight of large hockey gear fit for an average 16-17 year old being carried out of the FedEx truck and dumped onto one of the couches outside, Gilbert took it as a hint that one of the boys played Hockey. He hoped whoever it was played decently. The East Riverstone Hockey team was lacking in skilled players, or at least that's what he heard through the grape vine at school.

Following the box of hockey equipment, a box with the label 'Football equipment' was dropped on the lawn close by as well as a box with the word "Lacrosse" written on it in thick black marker. He hadn't liked Lacrosse as much as other sports, so he ignored it, focused on the box that read "Football" and continued jogging down the sidewalk at a faster pace. Music blasting in his ears loud enough for passersby to hear, he mouthed the words by heart softly.


With Francis catching up on school work, and Antonio attending his cousin's Quinceañera and swarmed with family related matters, Gilbert was stuck by himself on Saturday and Sunday with idiotic thoughts and ideas as to what to do to make the time go by. Instead of studying for Chemistry like Ludwig had advised him Saturday morning after breakfast, the albino decided to stay in his room to watch TV and play on his PS3 all day.

Ludwig called it unproductive, but Gilbert begged to differ. If bettering his Kill-to-death-ratio on Call of Duty was unproductive, then he didn't know what was right or wrong.

The following day, he woke up a little before noon. Rolling off his bed, caught in the middle of an intense wet dream, he fell on his side with a loud 'thud' and grumbled profanities as he crawled into his bathroom for a nice, cold shower before he was off to do his Sunday afternoon chores for his beloved grandparents.

When he was finished showering, effectively getting rid of his little morning problem the only way he knew how, and dressing himself, he went to the grocery store with Adelaide, and helped her carry their bags into his car. They drove to and from the store together, and he brought in all the groceries by himself while she unpacked the food and put them into the fridge and cupboard. Afterwards, he helped mow the lawn then proceeded to spend the rest of his day at the gym until dinner came around. He ate dinner quickly, then showered before he went straight to bed, bored and unsatisfied with his dull weekend.

Buzz. Buzz.

Monday morning came agonizingly slow to Gilbert.

A fist popped out from under is Prussian blue bed sheets and slammed down roughly atop his alarm clock. Lying on his stomach, the dreadful ringing of his alarm continued to sound through his head, and he rolled around until he hit the wall his bed sat against. He sat up with a yawn, and scratched his bare chest.

It was 8:00 AM. Gilbert still had an hour before school started, so he took his time on the way to his bathroom. Stopping beside his closet door, he pulled out his clothes for the day, and then stepped into his bathroom, wincing as his eyes stung when he turned the lights on.

He finished showering in five minutes, and stepped out with a towel draped around his waist. Holding it up with one hand, he used his other to wipe at the fogged up mirror and stare at himself. He flexed his free arm and stared at his flawless body proudly. He wasn't star-player and captain of the football team for nothing.

When he was done gawking at his reflection, he dried himself off and pulled on his clothes for the day. He had forgotten to do his laundry the other day, so his choice of clothes was limited as to what was clean and didn't smell bad. Stepping out in a plain black V-neck and blue skinny jeans, he dried his silvery hair with a small towel in one hand as drops of water fell and dampened the neckline and shoulder of his shirt. It was a simple outfit, but he didn't care. He was never one to dress up for school, unlike a certain French blonde he knew. Despite his over-the-top-with-awesome personality, Gilbert believed in simplicity and the beauty it held.

In his other hand, he held the pair of boxers he had worn the previous day. Sitting in the corner of the room was his hamper, and, with one swift movement, he chucked it into the white bin effortlessly. After yelling 'score!' he sat on his bed and continued to dry off his hair with his towel.