Well, he figures this is it. Matthew looks down at the white sheet folded on the bed in front of him. He can find his brother and follow him around for the rest of his life, the unnoticed third-wheel. Or he can travel; maybe see some of the world. But, no. That won't work. Being around Gilbert proved that he couldn't even buy groceries for himself, let alone plane tickets. Would online work? Better not risk it. He could just sneak into people's houses and- No, no, no. He could never steal from people. Except his brother, but does that count as theft?
Running out of ways to procrastinate and delay his (withdrawal, escape, fading away?), Matthew turns and begins padding softly out of their house. HIS house. No, Gilbert's house. He reaches the front door, reaches for the handle... and hesitates. Just for a second. Just enough time to remember everything. Just enough time to regret. Is he doing the right thing? Would it be so bad if he stayed? Maybe they could-? And- Would-? But-? Yes! No. Will-
Will Gilbert miss him?
Matthew shakes his head and turns the handle, the hinges protesting as the door opened and light floods the entryway. He takes one last look around. No more cobwebs in the corner, no dust illuminated by the light. The abused furniture replaced and pictures added on the wall. It looks lived in, inviting, like a home, everything it shouldn't to Matthew.
He takes a step over the threshold.
(One Year Earlier)
Matthew watched as Alfred rose from the couch at the sound of a knock on the door. From his vantage point on the stairs he could see an unfamiliar woman standing past the doorway. Alfred shook the woman's hand and they began talking about something. It sounded like business.
Matthew tuned out their voices as he took in the muted American football game, his gaze drifting around the dusty living room. Alfred hadn't been at home much in the past few months, ever since he got serious with his cranky boyfriend Arthur. Cobwebs had been building up in the corners of the rooms, and the furniture sent up a cloud of dust whenever Alfred decided to drop back in and restock the refrigerator. At the thought of food, Matthew's stomach grumbled loudly, and he softly got up and drifted to the pantry. Snagging a piece of bread, he began shuffling back to the stairs, but veered to the left and softly blew on the back of Alfred's neck. Matthew giggled as Alfred jumped, and began climbing the stairs to his room, the lady looking on confused while Alfred spun around deliriously.
By the time Matthew came back down the stairs, the stranger had left, and Alfred's keys weren't in the dish by the door. He sighed, resigning himself to another night alone in their small, empty house. At least he could finally watch hockey again.
Alfred had originally bought the house after he caught his first permanent, and current, job working construction, where he met Arthur on an assignment. He didn't know why he had bought a two-bedroom house, instead of a small apartment (Matthew had tagged along when he was searching real-estate and whispered 'suggestions' in his ear), but he liked the cozy little house, and skillfully ignored the weird noises he (totally didn't) hear, like there was someone else in the house with him. But Arthur had been hinting, then adorably blushing into his tea, about having Alfred move into his flat (something Alfred was thrilled about. Not because his house is haunted or anything. Hah hah, nothing like that). He and the real-estate agent had decided to meet again later that week, and Alfred could finally start to pack. With that happy thought, he grabbed his keys and started on his way to his eye-browed brit's flat.
