Gilbert jumped out of his brother's car before it was fully stopped and sprinted towards the PAC as fast as he could.

"Gilbert! You know I have to stop the car before you can get out," yelled Ludwig, his eyebrows furrowed in irritation.

He looked back and shouted,"Es tut mir leid Lud. Thanks for the ride but the awesome me needs to get going!"

Ludwig whispered a quiet dummkopf under his breath before driving away, hoping his brother made it to wherever he was rushing off to.

Fuck fuckfuckfuck, okay you're only two minutes behind it's okay, Gilbert thought frantically.

He knew everything was not okay. His director/best friend had asked him to record the audition that was taking place today, since apparently his younger son was performing. Actually, had no idea the guy had another kid until last week when high school seniors began auditioning and he honestly was horrified at the thought of having another egomaniac in the band (lord knows they have too many). He had to make it to the stage as fast as possible because once the performer came on, the doors to the stage closed so no one could come in and disrupt what was happening. In fact, audiences weren't even allowed during auditions; musicians needed a good environment to get their A game on.

Luckily, another one of Gilbert's friends was working the stage that day to let him in. All he had to do was make it on time...

...Which, obviously, he failing at.

He reached the entrance and stopped abruptly as he was momentarily distracted by the plant covered, baroque-esque building.

In the middle of Gilbert's first year at Samwell, the college had made a huge decision in going green, not only with their huge cut down of waste and increased use of efficient recycling practices, but also with making the campus greener with more foliage. When UW had caught wind of this, they had followed suit, and the rival schools had found yet another thing to compete with. In an effort to outdo their enemy, Samwell's art, agriculture, and engineering majors had collaborated on a giant plan to cover the buildings in what was basically plant art. Up until a few weeks ago all of the buildings looked as if they were covered in massive dirt boards but now that it was mid spring, the flowers and plants on the roofs and ledges were in full bloom.

"Awesome," he thought outloud, taking in the patterns the different greenery on the walls made, vines cascading off the ledges of the verandas. Gilbert then remembered he didn't have tine to waste stating, so he rushed in, hurrying to the band hall so he could make it to the theater.

He saw the stage doors just as his friend Antonio was about to close them.

"Tonio, wait wait wait!," shouted Gilbert

"Shhh! Sorry Gilbert, you have to be quiet, people can hear stuff from out here. Also, you're late amigo." Antonio grinned. "I know you're doing Francis a favor, so you have to absolutely be in here, but since tu eres tarde, you know I can't let you in."

"Okay since we both know you don't actually care about breaking rules, let's just get to it." Gilbert knew his friend way to well for this, seeing right through his facade. "What do you want?" Gilbert tried sounding chill but when his friend got that look you knew he was going to fuck with you big time.

It was pretty funny when you weren't the victim... Except he was the victim in this case.

The Spanish man's forest green eyes glowed a darker shade as his grin grew more mischevious. "Well, you know how the solo on the new song doubles as a flute or sax solo?"

Gilbert raised an eyebrow, "Yeah, and..?"

Crossing his tan arms, Antonio bluntly said, "Give me the solo."

Gilbert's eyes widened. "What the fuck? Nu uh, hell no. I worked hard for that solo. I had to fight two other people for it and kiss Francis' ass so hard that my face was practically stuck to his asshole. Tonio let me in or I'm telling Lovino what you did to his tomato plant."

Antonio blanched at the threat, knowing full well his boyfriend would make him pay dearly for murdering his beloved little plant, but it seemed to Gilbert that he wasn't going to let up. "Hmmm obviously I wasn't clear. Give me the solo or you don't get to see Francis' kid perform," he demanded. His smile was still ever present.

Gilbert flashed back to getting his first song as first chair flute, a position he had fought tooth and nail for. He remembered seeing the solo in the 1st flute part and immediately deciding he would be the one to play it. He had slaved over the errands Francis had him run (Ahhh, mon ami, a shoulder rub would be nice right about now; Gilbert, I am so busy with these kids' music theory papers and there these two women that, uhh, require some extra practice, if you catch my meaning *cue fancy french wink*, why don't you grade them for me). To make sure he had the part, he had bribed the first flute with a week of favors, and paid the other $350 (which he had spent weeks saving to buy an Xbox One). He didn't even want to talk about what he had to do for the alto sax player (he had to throw away the clothes he wore that night; they were permanently covered in glitter).

"Alright, I guess you aren't going to see Francis' son play then." Antonio began closing the doors, "Have fun explaining to Francis you were late. He won't be happy and te va a mata-"

"Okay wait," Gilbert put his foot in the door just as they were about to click shut and Antonio raised an eyebrow, a smile still on his face.

Even though Gilbert wanted to murder him on the inside (Stupid, Spanish prick, making me do this shit, fuck this and fuck Francis, he should've went to see his son himself GAHDBSKJBADSJFHGUISEO) he agreed to giving him his solo and shook on it, despite how hard he had worked for it.

The things he does for his friends.

As Gilbert walked in, Antonio quietly called to him. "Just so you know, you weren't going to be late. I tweaked the stage clock because I knew you'd get off schedule. You should really check if your alarm clock is accurate."

Gilbert's face contorted into one of pure disbelief, but before he could beat the shit out of the happy-looking asshole, Antonio dashed backstage, safe from an ass-kicking.

Fucking asshole, thought the pale man as he took a seat away from the front. He ran his hands through his spiky white hair. Well, actually, that's probably why we're friends. Jesus, maybe I should get new friends. Ones that don't steal solos you killed yourself over.

As he sat he took in the theaters appearance. It looked incredibly different than when the university had first opened its doors. Six or seven years ago, Samwell had started up an international student acceptance program and almost anyone in the world could now come to their school if the drive, grades, and talent. After all, arts and sciences were the school's strong suit being tied for best medical program in the country with UW, in the top ten for engineering of all kinds, and in the top five for all arts. The school had a strong appeal to youth all over the world with their high status and somewhat reasonable tuition. Now that there were so many people from different countries attending, the school adapted to suit the tastes of its diverse student population. Halls rapidly were filled with fifty different flags, fliers in different languages and there were events almost every week to celebrate the cultures represented by the students. Not to mention, the cafeteria food was better than ever. Gilbert had no clue where the hell moussaka was from but the minute the delicious dish hit his taste buds it he knew where it was going.

Straight into his mouth, right down into his stomach.

Gilbert snapped out of his small food fantasy when he heard one of the judges start speaking and he realized that the performer had already walked out on stage with his accompanist. A tall boy with golden, wavy hair sat on stage, wearing a basic suit, a wayward curl in his face. He sat elegantly with his silver instrument.

Damn that kid looks nervous. Thought Gilbert. The initial impression of elegance wore off as he could see the blond fiddling with his instrument, glancing around. He could feel the anxious energy coming from the stage, especially when the kid opened his mouth to speak.

"Hi, I'm Matthew Williams and I am from Auburn Mountainview High School. Today I am playing Nocturno Op. 7 and my accompanist is Alfred F. Jones." Said the performer, somewhat quietly.

That's weird, I wonder why they all have different last names? Gilbert thought. Alfred Jones, Francis Bonnefoy, and Matthew Williams? Weird. He didn't ponder it for too long though; Matthew took a deep breath, picking up his French Horn (Nice, we always need some more of those) and the albino knew the audition was officially about to begin.

The kid, Matthew, blew the horn… and Gilbert's mind too.

Holy shit.

He was absolutely entranced with the beautiful sound the horn made. There was no way that was just a kid playing a French horn. That was an angel playing God's horn; he would bet all of his money on that in a heartbeat. Gilbert had never felt so affected by a performance, in disbelief that Matthew was a high school senior.

He observed the blonde on the stage, watching him sway with the music. He could tell Matthew was in a whole other world. He could relate, I mean, is a musician really a musician if he can't escape through to his own world? Matthew was somewhere else and Gilbert could feel himself getting pulled with him. Talk about musical escapism, this is on a whole 'nother level. Gilbert had always thought of himself as a music aficionado, but he wished he could change the term to fit what he felt for Matthew's playing.

His eyes were absolutely glued to the blond. Gilbert could admit it, this guy was almost as awesome as himself.

"Alright then." Gilbert snapped out of his momentary trance as he heard the judges speak.

"We have the performance recorded and we'll jot down anything we had to say about it on our clipboards," said the woman judge in a monotone voice. "We'll tell you if you got in soon enough. You may go now, thank you."

The judges began getting up and leaving and it seemed to Gilbert that they suddenly didn't see Matthew.

"Oh umm," started Matthew, "How will I know if I made it? Are you guys gonna send an email, or call, or ….?"

From what Gilbert could tell, the judges had forgotten he had existed, as they walked off the stage. Wow it's like this kid never auditioned. Why are they ignoring him? Gilbert was almost as irritated as the musician, who he could see quietly curse on stage. Ha, he looks a lot like Frenchie when he's irritated. Gilbert could see Alfred blabbering away to Matthew and the blond tuned him out which he found funny. After all, everyone in the band tuned out Alfred when he got to talking; it's always best to tune out a trumpet ego. Gilbert stared at Matthew, trying to take him in so that he could relay as much information about Matthew and his performance possible to Francis, but then, the blond stared right back, catching his eyes, looking slightly bewildered as if he was not used to that kind of attention (as minuscule as it was). Gilbert was prepared to give the blond a nasty glare; having stark white hair, pale moonlight skin, and blood red eyes made people stare at him like some kind of specimen under a microscope. Of course, you'd think an awesome guy like Gilbert would ignore it but it honestly always irritated him.

As the albino looked at the blond, He noticed the kid starting to blush heavily...

And he was not prepared for how adorable it looked.

It caught Gilbert off guard, but he didn't break the eye contact and tried to look friendly. He probably didn't do a good job since the kid looked away quickly, in an embarrassed fashion. He felt pretty awkward despite not knowing the kid so he decided that it was best to leave the theater before the kid glanced back at him.

The pale man crouched down to the floor and crawled out of the auditorium, feeling strangely bashful.

Gott, that was lame. What is wrong with you dummkopf, Gilbert thought angrily, mortified at the way he had acted. Walking out of the music hall he rushed out of the building and sat at one of the stone benches in the front courtyard. He felt his feelings sour a little but ignored them and waited for Francis to pick him up so he could tell him about Matthew's performance and then go to Dick's. He was starving; the man hadn't eaten all day since he had to finish homework for his two math courses.

You think someone who had always struggled with math would've picked another major besides computer engineering, but what can Gilbert say, when he liked something as much as technology, he was willing to take twenty years worth of it. He was so determined to get into computers, he had worked hard all throughout high school, making it to Calculus AB through sheer work and determination.

What can the guy say, he's as stubborn as they come.

"Mon ami, over here!" Francis pulled up a little ways away in his red Mini convertible, looking as chipper as ever. His pale golden hair waved in the warm breeze ad the Frenchman gazed over his Versace sunglasses, happy, dark blue eyes landing on Gilbert. "Get in the car and tell me how mon petite son did."

Diva didn't even begin to describe the albino's friend. The man was dressed beautifully. A rich blue blazer over a white striped shirt brought out his eyes and dark maroon formal pants accentuated the pale gold of his hair. His wrist was adorned with a golden watch, and around his neck sat a thin gold chain with a delicate cross. Francis' appearance always screamed class.

Gilbert could only imagined how bad he looked beside his friend, wearing ripped black jeans, a red t-shirt, and a beanie who's black color had faded into a gray. The tattered backpack and dirtied white vans didn't help. He was the picture of broke college student, but if it made people look down at him, he couldn't care less. Only un-awesome people let other people's opinions get to them.

He got into Francis' car and the pair of friends rode for a while before Gilbert asked, "How come you didn't go see Matthew yourself?" Gilbert paused for a second and went on to say, "Okay actually, better question, how come you never talked about having another kid?"

"Ahhh that is a long story, friend, but for right now why don't you just tell me how he did. I hope his performance was indicative of his good bringing up by moi." Francis glowed at the self compliment.

Gilbert scowled, only slightly annoyed that Francis had avoided the question, but he told the older man about his performance. "You know, you definitely didn't have to give the kid a freebie spot in the band. He probably has more talent in his pinky than the whole damn trumpet section."

"You are just saying that because of your personal rivarly with the brass section. Which is ridiculous, if I may add; there is only room for l'amour in my band mon cher." Francis took his eyes off the road for a moment to give Gilbert one of his famous French winks and Gilbert groaned hoping he wouldn't go off on his rant about love.

"Okay something that was weird about the kid is that once he was done playing, the judges totally ignored him, like he didn't exist. Like, he was trying to get their attention and they all just walked out," Gilbert remembered.

"Hmm, for some reason Mathieu has always been somewhat invisible. I'm not sure why, his looks are as good to rival my own. For some reason people only see him when he's on the Hockey rink or when he's playing his instrument. Well at least, I'm assuming that's still true, it's been a couple years since I've actually talked to him," Francis explained. "Also, why are you calling my son kid, you are only a year older, "He added

"Francis we're like best bros, so it's almost like the kid is my nephew. You know sometimes I forget that you're pretty old." Francis clutched his chest in dramatic, pretend agony. "Gilbert, how you wound me! Old?! I think the term tastefully aged is much better suited to piece of art like me. Old is an insult to my radiant beau looks."

"Whatever you say old man. Here, if we're going to grab coffee atthe coffee shop in the UW campus, you better put this on." Gilbert reached into his bag and pulled out two custom Samwell University Sweatshirts, complete with a shark biting into a huskie. "I will never pass up a chance to piss off those UW pricks. Especially that Gilen dude that works at the coffee shop, he's such a hard ass."

Francis wrinkled his nose, as he parked the car two streets away from the alley where the cafe was located. "That looks quite distasteful. Besides, my ensemble today is very nice and I would not appreciate you ruining my look with that rag of a sweater, since it appears to be made out of polyester," Francis said with a wave of his hand.

As they got out of the car, Gilbert rolled his eyes and with a smirk, and he pulled the sweater over the Frenchman's head.

"Gilbert what are you-"

"Put the sweater on Frenchie I'm trying to piss off the barista!"

"No get off of me you cretin! Tu vas le regretter, idiot!"

The two struggled, getting strange looks from people passing by and Gilbert finally pulled the sweater over the older man's head. "Perfect let's get going."

"Hmmph, I hope you know you just lost your solo to Antonio."

The two entered the alley way, ready for a cold caffeinated drink, and Gilbert grinned knowingly.

"Ha, you have no idea."

Hey guys! Sorry I'm almost a week late on updates I didn't realize how much time it took to edit. Now that I know how long I take to write and edit, I'll be able to update on time.

I just want to be clear that the last chapter and maybe the next chapter or two is before the actual story begins. This is the audition to get into Samwell's band and like their first meeting (kinda). After all the audition stuff I'm probably gonna do a time jump.

ALSO I'M SCREAMING. I KIND OF MADE IT SO THAT THE CAMPUS WAS NEAR GAS WORKS IN SEATTLE BUT THAT"S LIKE RIGHT NEXT TO UW. LOL I GUESS THAT'LL JUST INTENSIFY THE RIVALRY.

Sooo I changed the story name, chapter name, and the summary (I did all of that initially at like one am so there hella mistakes and the summary was borderline crack lmao) and I edited the first chapter, so if you read it during the first few days of its publication please reread there could be some extra stuff. Also, I just want you guys to know that my interpretation of aph Spain is that he's really kind… except when he fucks with members of the BFT (you can only put up with so many shenanigans before you start getting a touch meaner). Don't worry though guys he does it with a smile :)

If you want any extra information like details about Samwell Campus and stuff, go to the tumblr url on my bio.

I also just want to be clear tha the orchestra will be involved in the story but that's when the band and orchestra come together to play for a special event (that I will get to) and of course the PRANK WARRRR.

Anyways, here are some translations:

Spanish:

Tarde- Late

Te va a mata[r]- he's gonna kill you

German:

Es tut mir leid- I'm sorry

Gott- God

Dummkopf- Dummy

French:

Mon ami- My friend

Mon petite- My little

L'amour- Love

Mon cher- My sweet

Beau- Beautiful

Tu vas le regretter, idiot- You're going to regret that idiot

Moi- My

(I use Google Translate so sorry for errors!)

Thank you for reading please R&R they're my motivation to write! :)