Alfred was never one for turning in early, but there were always exceptions to things such as this. He was exhausted, but the information he had been recently given has kept him awake. It was the mainly guilt that kept him from sleeping, but it was the knowing there was a chance of finding Matthew, was making him want to sleep so he had the energy to search. Thirteen years is a long time and an unlucky number. If Matthew was still alive... Alfred feared it was not for long.
"Just you wait, Matthew," Alfred told himself, acting as if his brother was there in the room with him, "we'll find you, and bring you home. After all, that's where you belong."
And with that, Alfred closed his eyes, falling asleep on the spare bed in his parents' flat. He didn't dream that night, nor did he sleep for long. He was too absorbed in finding his brother, that he wanted to get going right away, and delay his finding no further... But he also knew that this would be the hardest thing he has ever dealt with in his life. The thoughts of Matthew being all alone scared him. Who knew who took him, who has him now? No one knew where he was, or if he was still alive. The idea that Matthew might be dead, or worse, be suffering, waiting for someone to rescue him, but no one will...just crushed Alfred's heart. The thought that he might not remember his family at all scared him even more. Alfred needed to know that wherever his brother was, he was safe, happy, and loved.
At six in the morning, Alfred was in the living room, reading more paper clippings about his brother... His description, and all that jazz. He was remembering more and more about his brother, something he was very grateful for. Everything was starting to come back to him; the sound of his brother's soft voice, the tears that came when he was in trouble, or ignored again... Everything seemed so clear, but at the same time, this information didn't give Alfred anything to go by. Why would someone take a kid who was always ignored? Why would anyone think he was always left alone, as if he wasn't there? Alfred always saw him, and so did their parents... Most of the time.
He supposed that was the big question though too. Why? Matthew wasn't the strongest kid in the world, but he wasn't the weakest either; especially considering his age at the time. Alfred really didn't have time to think anymore than that before Arthur came dawdling in the room, yawning from the sleep he got... Or lack thereof.
"Alfred, what are you doing up?" he questioned, giving Alfred an equally confused expression.
"Dad, did you know that Matthew was missing right away?" the younger inquired. "And don't you lie. I will know if you are, so don't make thing difficult for you, or for me."
Arthur sighed. "I shall be honest then. I did not know it at first. I remember Matthew telling me that he had hockey practice, but that one of his classmate's mother would be driving him... I assumed that he would be there, but then when it came time to pick him up... Well, he was forgotten... By me... However, the mother of the other boy called me, asking if someone had already picked up your brother... I told her that no one had, and she started panicking, nearly screaming at me that my son was not there anymore, and pleaded to tell me I was lying... She was a kind woman, who loved children... It's hard to not like Matthew, for he was just too sweet, too innocent, and too kind to understand the dangers of his own lifestyle he had already begun to lead. When I heard her words, I went to your papa, and asked if he had picked up your brother, but alas, he had not... I went back and told her... She called the police for us, fearing worse than I had ever imagined... Losing Matthew... We had never thought... We expected you to run away, but you graced us without that worry... Your father and I …. We never thought about Matthew getting into any trouble ever..." Arthur allowed his voice to drop from there, but that's really all Alfred needed to get somewhere.
"So the papers lied. He didn't disappear from the school. It was from the rink. Dad, where did Matthew have his practices?" Alfred asked suddenly, his eyes wide with both realization and urgency. "Take me there. Please. We might be able to find something if they left his locker untouched. He had a locker, right? Doesn't matter, Dad, please, take me there. We could figure out something that could help us figure out what happened to my little brother. Please, Dad. You've gotta help me. He was your son, as well as me. That being said, you should care about this, so stop acting like you've got no heart!"
In truth, Arthur really did care. He was just struck silent after Alfred took over the conversation. The more Alfred spoke, and the more Arthur thought about it himself, he grasped what was overlooked all those years ago. Tears stung his eyes as he punched himself inwardly. If he had noticed this earlier, the trail wouldn't have been dry, or cold. They probably would have found him, and Matthew wouldn't be with someone else right now, or even dead. No one knew, so that possibility was always out there, which is what scared Arthur the most. He could have his son right now, but because he was too stupid to correct the police, Matthew was still lost.
"You're blaming yourself, aren't you," Alfred more so stated than asked. "For what happened with Matthew, and why he hasn't been found yet... Right?"
Ashamed of himself, for he knew what his son was thinking, Arthur hung his head. "I'm afraid so, my dear boy."
"Where's Papa? He should help us too. The more people we have, the faster we'll get to the bottom of this case."
"You talk as if this is an easy thing, and that you have experience with this. Are you so sure that we'll be able to find him at this rate? With what we're talking about? Because if you're as confident as you sound-"
"I know what I'm doing. I've done this before."
"Have you?" Arthur demanded of this. He demanded to know the truth.
Alfred didn't back down at all. He stood up from his place, and said with a voice that even the strictest parent couldn't imitate, "Yes, I have." Alfred stayed strong, and didn't mention that the extent of his skills went from finding his phone, to discovering the place of where his neighbor's cat had gone. That, he figured was information his father didn't need to know.
Arthur looked to his son, incredulously. This wasn't like Alfred usually was, and it surely didn't lead to anything else. Should he really believe his dear son? Aside from all his better judgment, Arthur nodded his head, and left the room, returning shortly after, with his husband.
"I have to leave soon.. .My flight is to leave in just a couple hours."
"Enough time," Alfred said, dragging both men to Arthur's clean and pristine vehicle.
Without further question, Arthur revved up the engine, and drove away to the old rink Matthew used to practice in.
It was clearly old and out of use now. The doors were nearly rusted off their hinges, their glass stained with what was assumed years of dirt and grime buildup. The bricks were covered in moss and mushrooms, and the building itself, was just out of date. Breaking into it was the least of their worries... It was finding their way around, that was the true problem. Out of the three, Arthur knew where to go... But even his knowledge only went so far. He knew how to get to the main rink, and the front desk, but that was about all there is of it. Where the skaters or players went to change, or get in their gear, was beyond them all. The signs, if there were any, were long gone, leaving the three with still no clue where they were going.
"Out of all sports you didn't get into," Arthur complained to Alfred.
"I'm not that big into ice, you know that," Alfred stated. "I was more of the foot
ball... Soccer type."
"Yeah, you and your stupid egg shaped, pathetic excuse for a ball," Arthur scoffed. "Honestly, who came up with that sport?"
"I dunno, but whoever it was, is a genius."
"I've found something!" Francis exclaimed from one of the corners. He was near a door in much better shape than the outside ones, however, this one was, at one time, an automatic, which means the only way to open it, as to force it.
"I got this dudes," Alfred said, going to the door, pulling it with all his might, yielding no results.
"Perhaps you should use reasoning and common sense?" Arthur suggested, picking up a fair sized rock about the size of his fist, and feeling it by tossing it a couple times. Winding up, Arthur pitched it, perfectly nailing the door... The rock simply bounced off.
"Reasoning and common sense huh?" Alfred asked, giving Arthur a look that said: "Really?"
"Be quiet. It's old glass... I was expecting it to be easily broken..."
"Perhaps we should try somezing else, no?" Francis suggested before a fight could break out between the two.
Reluctantly, and with one final glare, Alfred nodded in agreement with his father.
"So what do you suppose we do then?" Arthur prompted.
That did absolutely nothing to belittle the blond man. He looked around a bit more before his eyes landed on an open hallway. "Down zere," Francis pointed to said hallway, and began walking down that way. Alfred and Arthur quickly started after him, wondering what could be down the hall.
There was a good five minutes before the trio came across an accessible door. It was clear they had gone the right way when they saw all the rusty lockers around. Maybe they would find something that would be of some use.
Alfred ran a finger along the top of the lockers, Arthur scolding him and going on about having to get shots before they can go any further. But there was something familiar about this room to Alfred. It was a large, empty space where there was room for many things to happen at once. Maybe it was for after season parties, or off-ice training. The room stunk. There was the smell of feet, and body odor, as if no one who went in here knew what the heck deodorant was. The three men plugged their noses, but didn't leave the room. The only sound was of their shuffling feet, looking for something that might help them.
"This place used to be prosperous, and was actually very well off... I wonder what happened," Arthur spoke, breaking the deafening silence.
"Well," Alfred provided an explanation, "this place was connected to our school.. They probably didn't want to send their kids here in fear that they would end up like Mattie."
Francis nodded solemnly. "Zat is more zan likely ze case here."
"This locker's open," Arthur stated, opening it further, the hinges squeaking loudly in their ears. "There's skates... gear... and... a note in here," the Brit informed the other two, reaching his hand inside to grab the note. Arthur quickly retracted his arm, shaking spiderwebs off from between his fingers before reaching in again.
Matthew is mine.
The three men stared at the three words. If only they knew who this was, and why they would put this here.
Suddenly, there was a sound from the hallway they had come from.
"Th-this place isn't... Isn't ha-haunted... Right?" Alfred asked shakily.
"If it is, we are just as stupid as those couples in those stupid movies you watch at night," Arthur commented.
"Shut up!" Alfred said louder than he meant to.
"Let's just get out of here," Francis decided for the group, leading his son, and his husband out of that locker room. That note was bothering him more than the other two, but there was no way he was going to show it. Where was his son? Why had they been so stupid anyway? One thing that bothered him most though: the woman who had called the police... Had she not specified the location at which Matthew was actually seen last?
A/N : I apologize for anything I'm doing wrong (i.e. speakings, habits, acting as if the rights are mine, cause I basically own nothing...)
