The rain was hard and heavy on the airport terminals large windows. You could tell just by looking that the anxiety was welling up like knots in the fourteen year old's stomach as he stood, nearly hiding behind his dad, looking at the arrivals board.
"Looks like we were just in time Al, the flight just landed ten minutes ago," His Dad announced resting his clammy hand on the boys shoulder "I wonder if I'll recognise him."
It'd been a surreal few months before when Alfred came back from school to find his dad sat at the table. He smiled solemnly at his son. Alfred's young face twisted with worry, his dad shouldn't have been back from work until at least seven. Something had happened, he just couldn't figure out what.
"Hey kiddo, you know how you've always wanted a brother?"
At first Alfred was confused. All he could do was sit and pick at the peeling varnish on the wood table. As he listened to what his father said he suddenly felt as though the man talking to him was not the father he knew his whole life, but a stranger.
It'd happened when his dad was still a student, studying abroad for one semester while he'd been at university. She was older and hadn't even known she had fallen pregnant until after he was back in the states. They'd kept in contact for a while, sending emails and letters with pictures and stories. Until it dwindled off…
And then out of nowhere a call he'd never expected to receive, a call explaining so much.
He'd seen recent photos of his half brother, his dad had even spoken to his son over the phone a couple of times. The low resolution images were enough for him to recognise the scrawny boy.
He looked tired, more so than a five hour jet lag could bring on. From what he was wearing you could tell he'd been living with his grandma, thought Alfred. The baggy oxford shirt and grey v-neck sweater, paired with turned up beige corduroy trousers weren't things you could imagine a regular nineteen year old dressing themselves in.
"Hi, I'm assuming this is Mr. Jones? I'm Arthur" the teen stuck his free hand out to the man. His other hand laid on a large battered suitcase.
His bright green eyes noticeably worried and lined with dark circles, almost hidden by his thick rimmed glasses and wild mop of dirty straw blonde hair.
"Yes, but you can call me Dad or Steve, if you want." ignoring the outstretched hand he threw an awkward hug around Arthur, one he didn't quite seem ready for, "and this is Alfred, your brother"