His hands were green, his pants covered in splashes of red, spots of gold and stripes of blue. The emblem of the company on his formerly white T-Shirt was covered with brown, but Matthew Williams was absolutely, positively and undoubtedly happy. The paint could be washed off later.
The blonde Canadian was smiling a smile of pure satisfaction, of a job well done. His eyes scanned the canvas once more, taking in the colour, the images, everything, before he covered it once again. The painting he had worked on for weeks now was finally done. He couldn't wait to take it to the fair tomorrow.
17 year old Matthew planned on selling his first painting. The shy teen had worked up enough courage to display his art publicly. It had helped that his brother Alfred had told him that if Mattie didn't put his art in the local show this year, Alfred would march down there and do it himself.
Matthew smiled at the memory, fondly recalling how determined Alfred looked, and how adamant he was about getting Mattie's work in the show.
He sighed. He loved his brother, truly, but sometimes Al was just so stubborn. Breaking from the memory of a few months prior, he looked at his watch, eyes bulging in shock. In digital numbers, as plain as day, the clock read 2 am, well past the time Matthew should have been asleep in order to get a decent night's rest.
He quickly changed into his pyjamas, and fell asleep. He dreamt of getting hundreds of dollars for his painting, getting put in the local newspaper. He enjoyed the dreams, and woke early the next morning well-rested and ready for the day.
After eating a bowl of cereal, and throwing on some clothes that were not covered in paint, for once, he walked to the art show.
He had registered a week ago, and was excited to see where they'd put him. Perhaps in the young artists section? Maybe next to the other painters?
Turns out he wouldn't be put anywhere. When he arrived at the registration table, and gave his name, he was told he was not on the list. Matthew looked at him in confusion.
"Mr... Edelstein?" He said, glancing at the man's name tag. "Maybe you could check again? Please? I'm sure I registered Mr, Edelstein."
The man, who was dressed in a fine suit, emitted waves of disdain toward the teen. He glanced at Matthew's clothing, taking in his rumpled shirt and frayed denim jeans.
"Young man, I do not think you... Belong here. Your painting is amateur at best. Try selling it somewhere else. This show is for real artists only, not children playing pretend." The man said, dismissing Matthew and moving on to the next person in line. Matthew stood in shock for a moment or two, then picked up his painting, shoulders slumping in dejection.
"Alright then. Have a nice day." He mumbled, turning and walking back the way he came. He felt tears well up, but refused to cry. This was all stupid Al's fault! If he hadn't insisted Matt be in the stupid show, he wouldn't be here!
He muttered to himself, cursing his brother and the man who ran the registration table, and cursing his painting. He bumped into someone, stepping back.
"Sorry, sorry." He apologised, not looking up at the person of whom he had ran into. He tried to sidestep them and carry on towards his house, but he felt a hand clap down on his shoulder, spinning him toward the stranger.
"Ah, Mathieu! You run into me, and you do not even say hello?" The man chuckled, and Matthew recognised the voice.
"Oh, hello Francis." He said, toeing the cement at his feet. Normally he was happy to see his French neighbour, but not today. All he wanted to do was curl up in his bed and sleep away the morning.
"Mon petite, what has gotten you down today?" Francis said, looking worried.
Matthew sighed, and ran a hand through his blonde locks. "I tried to get my spot for the art show and they managed to lose my paperwork or something, so I can't be in it. And the stupid registration guy said I wasn't good enough to be in it anyway."
Francis chuckled, and ruffled Matthew's hair. "Cher, you are plenty good! And between you and me," he said, smirking. "Old Roderich is a jealous old codger anyway. May I see your painting?" He held out a hand, waiting for Matt to hand him the piece.
He held it out, reluctantly, waiting for Francis to agree with the man.
Francis studied the painting for a moment, then handed it back.
"Mathieu, why don't you come to my house, around four or so, and we can discuss price? Does that sound good?"
"Price for what?" Matthew was confused, but didn't want to assume the obvious, for fear of getting his hopes up.
"Your painting, of course! You are very good, and I wish to buy it." Francis said, chuckling at his shocked expression.
"Eh? O-okay. I'll be there! See you then Francis!" Matthew said, grinning at the man and running off to his house.
Francis chuckled, and turned toward his companion, of whom Matthew had failed to notice.
"Who was that?"
"That was mon ami Mathieu, Gilbert. He is a few years younger than you." Francis said, winking. The silver-haired boy rolled his eyes, and they continued their way down the sidewalk.
o.O.o
As promised, Matthew showed up at Francis's house at four. Gilbert opened the door, and let Matthew in, not bothering to introduce himself. He walked back to the front room and picked the game he was playing back up. Matthew shook his head at the albino, walking into Francis's kitchen. "How rude." He thought, placing the painting on the table.
"Bonjour Mathieu! Would you care for a crepe?" Francis said, smiling as he flipped on of the pastries onto a plate.
"Hello Francis." Matthew said, grinning. "Sure. I'd love one."
Francis pulled a crepe onto a plate, filling it with whipped cream and drizzling chocolate over it. He handed the plate to Matthew, who eyed it hungrily, and grabbed a fork from the counter for him.
"Would you mind telling Gilbert the crepes are ready?" He said, turning back to the stove as he poured another batch.
"Sure." Matthew said, sighing and setting the plate down. He walked to the door that led to the room where Gilbert was, and crossed his arms, leaning against the frame.
"Francis told me to tell you the crepes are ready." He said, waiting for Gilbert to acknowledge him. Gilbert grunted, still focused on his game. Matthew rolled his eyes, and walked back to where Francis was, picking up his own plate. He hummed in delight at the flavour. Francis made the best crepes, hands down.
After both he and Francis had finished their crepes, and put their plates in the sink, they sat at the table. Francis smirked, and tented his fingers.
"So, Mathieu, how does two hundred sound?" The Frenchman said nonchalantly.
Matthew gawked, standing up and knocking his chair over. "T-two hundred? Dollars?!"
"Non Mathieu. Two hundred chocolate bars." Francis deadpanned.
Matthew's face fell, before he frowned. "Don't screw with me. Are you really offering me two hundred dollars for my painting?"
"Of course, unless you wish to barter. But Mathieu, I can go no higher than Two fifty."
"No, no. Francis, 200 is fine!" He said, shaking his head and grinning at the man.
"Oh my god I can't believe it..." He muttered, turning and setting the chair upright once more.
Never had anyone seen his painting before. He had honestly thought that he would go and get 50 bucks at the most for his work, not 200! That would give him enough money to buy a new easel, a nice one even. Better than his old, beat up and falling apart one he currently owned.
He grinned to himself, at the thought of a brand new easel. Maybe he could by some oil paints too. He was running out.
His thought were interrupted by a certain obnoxious albino.
"You know, you look crazy grinning to yourself." The albino said, walking past Matthew to put his own plate in the sink.
"Gilbert, mon ami, don't be rude to Mathieu." Chastised Francis, chucking lightly at the glare Matthew shot Gilbert behind his back.
"You know, I don't believe you've introduced me to your 'ami' Francis. If anything, you're the rude one here. Tsk tsk." Gilbert said, sticking a tongue out childishly at Francis.
Francis rolled his eyes. "Gilbert, this is my neighbour and friend Mathieu, Mathieu this is my long time friend Gilbert. Better?"
"Absolutely." Gilbert grinned at Francis, before looking at the painting on the table.
"Did you do this?" He said, looking at Matthew.
"Yes." Matthew said, stretching out the e. He raised and eyebrow at Gilbert.
"Huh." Gilbert said, before walking back to the front room to play his game.
Matthew and Francis stared after him, one slightly amused at his antics, the other somewhat affronted. "Huh?" Matthew thought, turning his head back toward the painting. "What the hell was that supposed to mean?"
Francis chuckled, reaching across the table and ruffling the younger man's hair, who had turned red when he realised he spoke aloud. "Don't let him get you down Mathieu. Gilbert knows about fine arts just as much as he knows about manners."
Matthew snorted, mood lightening. "Well, Francis, I should get back home and finish packing for university."
"Very well Mathieu. Let me write you a cheque first." He stood, walking over to cabinet pantry and pulling out a chequebook. He quickly scribbled out the amount and signed it, handing it to Matthew. "Here you go. Send me pictures of what you paint from college!"
"I will Francis. Thanks again! See you!" Matthew called, walking out the front door, and across the street to his own house.
"Is that kid even old enough to go to college? He looks fifteen." Gilbert said, walking up behind Francis as he watched Matthew leave. Francis laughed lightly, shutting the door.
"Yes Gilbert. He is old enough for college." He said, falling back onto the couch and picking up Gilbert's discarded controller.
"What college?" Gilbert said, plopping down next to him.
"Why so interested in mon petite Mathieu Gil?" Francis said teasingly, to occupied to notice the scowl and light pink dusting covering Gilbert's pale cheeks.
"No reason." He said, pulling out his phone to make himself seem uninterested with the topic at hand.
"Adams University Gilbert." Francis said as he fell off the road, frowning at the small cloud that picked him up.
A small smile flickered over Gilbert's features.
o.0.o
Back at Matthew's house, said boy was dancing around his room, dancing with joy and waving the cheque around happily. He couldn't believe Francis had paid him a whole 200 dollars for his work.
"And that bastard at the registration stand said it was amateur! Ha! Take that you stuffy old codger!"
"Who's a stuffy old codger?" A voice said, opening the bedroom door. Matt laughed, throwing his arms around his brother.
"Al, Al guess what! The guy at the registration stand said I was an amateur and didn't belong at the art show, and then Francis came along and saw my painting and he told me to come over and-" he was cut off by Al grabbing his shoulders, laughing at his older brother.
"Matt, calm down. I can't understand you." Al said, laughing as he released Matt and sitting down at Matthew's computer desk.
"Oh. Sorry Al." Matthew said, starting the story over for Al.
"Two hundred dollars? Wow Mattie, that's great!" Al said, grinning enthusiastically at his brother.
"Yeah! It is!" Matthew said, grinning back and beginning to dance in joy again.
Al rolled his eyes, amused at his brothers antics, and grabbed his arm. "Come on doofus. Mom said it's time for dinner." Matthew followed his brother, bouncing down the steps.
After an equally joyous retelling of the story to his parents (and a delicious dinner cooked by his mother), Matthew decided to go to bed. The next day he was leaving for college, and he still needed to finish packing.
He smiled, yawning wide and crawling under his covers.
"Today was a great day." The happy Canadian thought, before nodding off, grinning still.
A/N: Hey! So I'm doing another story, a PruCan one if you can't already tell. I hope to get updates at least twice a month, if not once a week! This will also be hosted at AO3, under the same name, and author name!
Cool. See you soon :D