Respiration
"Papa! Papa!"
A tiny voice echoed through the house. A small blond boy came tearing through the house, stopping in front of his Father to catch his breath.
Francis looked up from his novel, and into the face of his younger son.
"Matthew? What's the matter?" Matthew's face was bright red and stained with tears. He held his stuffed bear close to him. Francis had never seen either of his sons in such a state of panic. Why was Matthew so frantic, and where was… "Oh no! Matthew! Where's Alfred?"
Matthew started to sob.
"Well? Where is he?"
Matthew spoke through sobs, choking out barely understandable words. "A-Alfred fell down! He won't wake up, Papa! Papa, I'm scared…"
Francis ran towards the room his sons shared and found Alfred on the floor. He knelt down towards the boy
And put his ear at his son's chest. The sound of a heartbeat let him relax. His boy was still alive. He stood, silent and in shock, picked up Alfred in his arms and put him in his bed, walked to the phone and called for ambulance. After he hung up, he felt a tug on his pant leg, and looked down to see Matthew.
"Papa… Is Alfred alright?"
Francis sat down, his back against the wall. He took Matthew in his arms, and held him tight, as if he thought that he might lose him otherwise. "I hope so, Mattie… The doctors will come. They'll take good care of him." Francis spoke nervously, seemingly trying to comfort himself more than he was trying to calm his son. Matthew settled in his father's lap, and let his papa's strong arms comfort him. They sat in silence for what seemed like a very long time. Then, Matthew spoke.
"Papa?"
"Yes, Mattie?"
"When will Daddy come home?"
"Soon. Soon…"
Arthur arrived home to see an ambulance in his driveway, with paramedics wheeling a stretcher into the ambulance. He hit the brakes and came to a screeching stop. He opened the door, and made a start towards his home. Not bothering to lock the car or even close the door, he scrambled towards his husband and his son, who was clinging to Francis's leg, hiding from the strangers who were carting his brother away.
"What in hell is going on here?" He demanded, grabbing hold of Francis's collar, which prompted Matthew to find a new hiding place behind a shrubbery.
"Why are there these, these… people taking away our boy? What happened, Francis? Tell me!"
Francis stared, deadpan into his husbands face. He was still in shock. He let his eyes drift towards Matthew, who was still cowering in the garden. Arthur suddenly became aware that there were people around, and released his grip on Francis's collar. He left his husband, who was still staring blankly into the distance, and made his way towards Matthew. As he squatted down to talk to him, Matthew flinched.
"I'm sorry, Matthew. Can you tell me what happened?"
Matthew started to cry. Again.
"We were just playing, me and Alfred. We were playing tag, and he started coughing. We stopped and he went inside to lie down when he… just fell over. I went to get Papa, and he called the ambulance. He hasn't talked since the ambulance came…"
Arthur took Matthew up in his arms, and walked toward Francis.
"Um… Sir? Are you the boy's father?"
A paramedic was trying to speak with the Frenchman, but to no avail. Francis kept his neutral expression and deathly quiet. Arthur spoke instead.
"Yes. We are the parents. What is wrong with our boy? Is he alright?"
"Well, we have to take him into the hospital to diagnose , but he should be alright. It seems he collapsed from some sort of fatigue." The paramedic turned his attention to the quivering Matthew, who buried his face in Arthur's shoulder. "Your brother should be alright. We'll take good care of him so he can play with you again soon." He spoke again to Arthur and Francis. "We'll probably keep him overnight, to make sure he's in good condition. You can him visit tomorrow." He then retreated into the ambulance. The vehicle pulled away, leaving the family, now incomplete, in complete and utter stillness.