A/N: Indeed, it seems as though I have crossed over to the dark side. Yep, a School Fiction. I feel I really didn't do Matthew justice in my other fics, so here's a new story to make up for it. The style may be slightly different (more details and less dialogue- I mean, Canada's the main character, after all).

I've been attempting different prompts, and decided it was time for the dreaded school FF. I will try my best to make it original. There will be OC's, but only one will have much significance.

I proudly present "Céleste Mosaïque". Enjoy and Review.

"Ungh…" Matthew had grumbled, sitting in a slump at the pale oak desk in the bedroom of his apartment. His shoulders sagged forward in a stressful manner, left palm propping up his head as a black ballpoint pen dangled loosely from his fleshy pink lips. He often performed that habitual gnawing when unnerved or anxious about something; a rather unhealthy tendency, and he had been scolded for it ten-fold as a child by his beloved mother. His half-shut, violet irises gleamed amethyst in the dim glow of the desk light that hunched over a sizeable stack of papers, vivid personality lacking in their dull luster. The entirety of his head throbbed with an agonizing migraine as his eyes scanned over each of the requirements on a school form before him. "What else am I supposed to put on a résumé?" The paper was about halfway filled with unspoken truth about the young man, the remainder of the page blanker than the back of his exhausted mind. He let out a long, futile sigh and shoved the stack of unfinished papers forcefully back into the drawer of the desk. His lanky fingers rose to his face, maneuvering around the bottom of his thin-rimmed glasses to rub the weariness from his eyes before retreating to the bedside on the opposite end of the room. He removed his spectacles, setting them gently upon the quaint nightstand, and sank into the bedcovers, burying his face into the cushiony down pillow with relief. He lay on his stomach, hands resting tightly against the sides of his lean torso, staring ahead at the intimidating desk before altering positions and lying on his side, back turned towards the drawer that contained his school papers.

Suppose I can always work on that tomorrow… he thought, eyelids clamping shut over his violet gaze. Many days had he suffered the unbearable agony of the average high school senior; applying for universities here and there, drowning from head to toe in the dreadful interrogations; in other words, those of the "tell-us-useless-info-about-yourself" variety. His fingers stung something dreadful, calloused from the various paper cuts and accidental wounds from misuse of the pencil sharpener. Insomnia had corrupted his fitful nights of sleep for nights, and, judging by his overloaded thoughts and mental inquiries, this particular night would differ in no way whatsoever. His eyes cracked open yet again, gaze averting to the open window, curtain flailing about in a gentle manner as a soft midnight breeze exhaled gently. The familiar, comforting glimmer of moonlight ceased to exist after dark that date, the set time for the new moon arriving without delay. The sky withheld a gloomy onyx, starless as well in the brightness of the nearby city. Folding his hands contently over his bare chest, Matthew swiped his dirty blonde hair from his face before whispering aloud, all but inaudible in his hushed tone.

"Dear mother in Heaven, how have things been lately for you? My life has been a drag since school started up again, and I find myself missing you even more." His expression fell, troubled. "O-Oh, don't worry, I can handle it just fine. It's not your fault or anything. It's just…" The elder teen sighed once more, muscles tensing. "If there is anything you can do for me, anything at all, please wish me the best. I don't know if I can keep up like this… I mean, I've tried my hardest to stabilize my grades, but college costs a lot of money. Something I don't have in abundance right now. I know I could always ask Father for money, but that would mean facing him again, which I would rather not do. I realize you must be busy up in Heaven, but, if you can, give me the opportunity to at least make it to college to start a career. I don't want to overwork you too much, though, so I'm going to say goodnight… Good bye, Mother."

His aching heart silenced him almost instantly. Squeezing his eyes shut again, he endured the third consecutive sleepless night.

********

"-like another cold one today under the Canadian sky with highs of a chilly 12 degrees below freezing. Although snow is not expected until later in the week, an advisory has been-"

"Another weather advisory?" Matthew muttered, shaking his head in dismay. Such was the life of a Canadian boy residing in northern Quebec. Had he been given the choice, he would not have allowed his young mother to buy a home in an area of such a hazardous climate as a child. He sat on the sofa, lips brushing the outer edge of his cocoa mug as he inhaled the steam deeply, allowing the warmth to relax his stiffening muscles.

"And in today's breaking news, the highly-anticipated international university, located in a secluded island off of the east coast of Australia, has reported a whopping six-hundred thousand applicants after their opening a week ago. More information regarding this university can be found on their website, at-"

The television flickered off, an eerie silence capturing the room in its menacing clutches. The Canadian teenager felt his irritation escalating as his thoughts centered on the distasteful mention of the university. He knew enough about it, all right. It was that dreaded college that had been making things so difficult for Matthew up until that moment, for it was his indispensible salary that had been handed over to the government through use of taxation to build the university in the first place. Many of the world's reigning powers had put forth effort and money to construct this legendary institution. The young man, though age had yet to ripen his wisdom, retained enough common sense to apply for other academies, while the other sixteen seniors at his meager high school had all but committed suicide in just attempting to send the god-forsaken application in. There were well over thirty million people residing in Canada, and the chance of any of them getting accepted was well beyond impossible. Don't misunderstand the situation; Matthew had applied for this unnamed university as well, earlier that week, but had done so mostly out of desperation. He had been giving his information to college after college, acceptance essential to continuing his life as a poor Canadian teen, living, secretly, by himself. His current occupation, a chef at a local restaurant, just didn't cut it when it came to bringing home the dough. College was his only chance left of preserving both his deceased mother's best wishes and his own.

He daintily sipped the murky cocoa in his hands, gaze drifting towards his cell phone, which lay atop the coffee table with the top flipped open. A brief, gentle smile graced his features, if only for a minute, as he glanced down at his wallpaper; the picture of his twin, Alfred, standing in front of the American capital building with a wide grin stealing his lips.

His relationship with his brother had been a most curious one. His mother had given birth to twins before her husband had severed ties with her. In a fearsome custody battle, it had been decided that Alfred, the older and larger of the twins, would reside with his father. Matthew had, thankfully, been saddled with his heartbroken mother, who retreated up to Canada with her only remaining son. Matthew had worn her maiden name, Williams, with a renewed sense of pride. Their father had adapted a harsh, cold demeanor, and in all honesty, Matthew despised the man with a burning passion. Many times he had mentioned to Alfred how envious he was of his brother, to have enough patience (or was it naivety?) to tolerate the rigid acts of their father. His brother had not spoken to him in person for three years.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a buffeting at the door. As he rose from his spot, he noticed the mail slot below the knob flip open to reveal a single envelope, addressed in a nostalgic smooth cursive. Matthew crouched down to pick up the letter with the utmost precaution, sinking his index finger under the flap of the envelope and ripping carefully along the crease. He pinched his fingers together over the folded piece of printer paper and dragged it out, violet eyes scanning over the words swiftly.

Dear Matthew,

A little something to help you out with college. I took the liberty of converting it for you. And I know you; don't send this envelope back with the gift still tucked inside.

Don't tell Father. He'll wring my neck.

Sincerely,

Alfred

Matthew groaned inwardly, shaking the upside-down envelope and watching about ten thousand-dollar bills, Canadian cash, plummet to the carpet beneath his feet. That fool… Sure, his father had become a multi-millionaire, owning a huge business, but not once had he ever bothered to give his other son a second thought. Ever since Matthew's sixteenth birthday, Alfred had sent money via mail covertly. Regardless, he felt a smile tugging at his chapped lips and tucked the bills into his jeans pocket.

********

Days turned into weeks. Weeks morphed into months. And the time had come for Matthew Williams to decide to which university he entrusted his fate.

Four of the many applications he had received had arrived, accepting him. I have done it, Mother, he thought as he walked home from school one day. Now all I need is some extra cash and-

"Matthew!" called a male voice from behind him, one recognized instantaneously as his fellow classmate, as well as the principal's personal assistant. "Hey, Matthew, wait up!"

The familiar face came to a screeching halt beside Matthew, hunching over and gasping for air in a trembling pant. The Williams boy raised a blonde eyebrow, concern washing over his face. "What's going on, Garth?"

"What's going on?" his friend repeated, an edgy tone caking his voice. "What's going on?! Matthew, why didn't you tell me? I thought we were closer than that!"

Matthew coughed into his fist, eyes shifting nervously. "What… what on earth are you talking about?"

To Garth's astonishment, he sounded genuinely confused. "What do you mean? You don't know?"

"Know what, Garth?" he persisted, growing irritably impatient.

The principal's assistant fished around in his overstuffed backpack, yanking out a crinkled wad of paper and unfolding it with care. "This is yours. You are Matthew Williams, correct?"

"Give me that," Matthew murmured, eyes narrowing distastefully at his fellow classmate as he stole a glance at the paper.

Stunned silence followed. Garth cleared his throat, tugging uncomfortably at his mahogany scarf. "M-Mathew? Is everything alrig-"

Matthew Williams was gone.

********

Matthew forcefully swung the door to his apartment closed with previously-undiscovered strength. There had to be a mistake, a flaw of some sort… this wretched piece of paper must have been a gag, right? Some sort of childish prank? Illogical gibberish stole possession of the young man's mind, his breaths coming forth in a heavy pant.

There wasn't even the slightest chance of it being a forgery… and it couldn't possibly be… Argh! It all made his head throb and his unwelcome migraine return. It wasn't possible… It just wasn't possible…

The international institute couldn't have just accepted him… correct?

A/N: Kinda lame so far, my apologies. It'll get better, and there will be more plot, hopefully… I feel like I'm losing my touch. Bleugh.

R&R. I want your feedback for this. Normally, schools settings and OC's aren't my thing, so I would like to know how I'm doing. And, no, Garth is not an important character. He probably won't show up again.