Thank you for your kind reviews~ Here's another chapter for you!

oOo

The silence in the room was heavy. The kind of silence that made you feel that simply breathing too loudly might cause an explosion or something equally dramatic. The kind of silence that made everything and everyone tense and anxious.

Matthew Williams hated that kind of silence, even if he was pretty much used to it by now. It was the same every time his whole family was forced to sit in a room together for more than a few minutes at a time.

In the sofa opposite him sat his father, in all his straight-backed, horrifying glory. With his black and steal-grey hair, well-trimmed beard and hard, dark eyes, the sight of him alone was enough to scare anyone who didn't know him. Heck, he even scared those who did know him. At least he scared Matthew. Very much so.

His mother, on the other hand, couldn't have been more of an opposite to the tall, wide-shouldered man. She seemed to practically disappear in the large, expensive armchair she was sitting in. Compared to the brute, she was as delicate as a porcelain doll, with fair skin, blonde, wavy hair and large, blue eyes. Matthew had always been told that he looked so much like his mother, and he supposed it was true.

However, one significant thing separated them; where his blue eyes – slightly more of a violet shade than hers – were filled with warmth and life; hers were just about as dead as a doll's. He could hardly remember last time he'd seen any sort of emotion other than fear and exhaustion in his mother's eyes.

Next to him in the sofa where he sat, were his twin brother, smiling and seemingly oblivious to the heavy atmosphere. While Matthew had the lithe build of their mother, his twin had inherited more of the strong, wide build of their father, although his hair and eyes were the same colour as hers. In Matthew's eyes they weren't much alike at all, but people always seemed to mix them up.

"Christmas is coming up." It was their father who spoke, his voice void of feeling and seemingly shaking the posh, stiff-looking living room with its deep rumble. Darryl Jones – Matthew had long since stopped addressing him as his father, or even his first name, except when talking directly to the man – took a sip of his coffee and looked at them all in turn.

Nothing more was said for a while, leaving the atmosphere to grow even heavier than before it had been cut. It was the same every fucking year; they would meet up some days before Christmas, sitting there like a group of zombies, awkwardly discussing something or the other, or arguing. Mostly, the time was spent arguing, until someone or the other got fed up and left. Usually it was Matthew. Usually no one really cared. Despite this, it seemed to be required to meet at least once during the year, as a family.

"How… how have you been?" this time it was their mother, Elaine Williams, who spoke. Matthew had taken her surname some years ago, after a particularly bad dispute with Jones. Alfred on the other hand, had kept his father's name, along with the initial F for his middle name, eve though Matthew knew he hated that middle name with a passion.

"Ah, same as ever," Alfred shrugged merrily, taking a large sip of his coffee as he leant back into the sofa. Very few times in his nineteen-year-old life had Matthew seen his brother pay much attention to the atmosphere around him. He could have been sitting in a room full of murderous ex-prisoners intent on murdering him, and he'd still talk about everyday events as though they were having a freaking tea party. "School's been cool, and stuff."

"Oh, that's nice," Elaine said in a rather monotonous voice, and when she smiled, it never reached her eyes.

Matthew listened silently as the two continued their sickening small talk for a while. Elaine's words were carefully chosen and thought-through, as polite as if she was addressing a complete stranger, while Alfred spoke about anything that came to mind, although admittedly in short sentences.

"How's your grades?" Jones' voice suddenly cut into the conversation, and Alfred seemed to tense a little. Even he was a bit unnerved by their father. He instantly covered it with his happy-go-lucky smile though, although his eyes were a bit wary behind his glasses, Matthew could see.

"They're the same as always; good." he said shortly, and shifted slightly in his chair, as though there was something he wanted to say, but didn't know how.

"I take it you're studying hard. I won't except anything less than top grades for you to take over my company."

Matthew took notice of the way Alfred's shoulders tensed slightly, a darker expression appearing in his eyes. It wasn't an expression he usually wore.

"W-what about you, Matthew, how are things going at work?" Elaine asked after a pregnant pause, and he nearly jumped as the attention suddenly was on him. God, he hated this. These… family meetings always tended to start of all right, and he was blissfully ignored – although feeling somewhat invisible was painful, he had learn to appreciate that more than the times when he suddenly was tossed into the spotlight. As the meetings proceeded, attention would eventually fall on him, and that rarely resulted in anything good. He hadn't expected them to talk to him so soon, though…

"I'm doing good," he murmured, his voice a lot more timid and gentle than his brother's energetic one. He shifted a little in the more formal suit he'd put on for the occasion – although he'd left the suit jacket at home, as that made it feel a little too formal.

He could practically feel Jones' scrutinizing gaze directed at him, and forced himself to look up and meet his eyes. His father had been furious when he had decided not to go to college. It had been one of the worst fights they had had, and Jones still hadn't forgiven him for 'throwing his life away' as he put it.

It wasn't like Matthew could help it. He had refused to accept financial help from his rich "family" ever since high school, and it was hard enough to get by as it was, with two jobs and a poor health that constantly kept sending him to hospital for shorter or longer periods of time.

Besides, he had enough of being bullied at school, or being ignored. As far as he could remember, he'd never had a real friend, perhaps except Alfred, and they weren't all that close anymore. His school life had been torture – a struggle to get through each day of torment from other students.

Of course, his father didn't care about such things. All he cared about was money and status. The fact that his son was working in a café some days, and working as a cleaner at a local nursing home other days, seemed to be very shameful to the successful man. Not that Matthew had ever been anything other than a shame to the family, despite getting top grades and always working hard.

No, it was Alfred that was the great, wonderful son, and Matthew was constantly pushed into his shadow. While it was true that Alfred had a massive ego and enjoyed attention and praise, Matthew knew that he also felt guilty for the way their parents paid more attention to him than his older twin.

It didn't matter, anyway. Matthew was fine the way things were, even if it made these yearly meetings a nightmare.

"So you're still working at that little place?" his father frowned even more than the usual scowl he wore, and Matthew felt a sting of anger at the disgust in his tone. Sure, the café might not be that big and wealthy, but it was a nice place, and he liked working there. His boss was nice and hardworking, and the pay was fine.

"Yes, father, I'm still working there," he said, his timid voice slightly chillier than before. No matter how he tried to tell himself to ignore it, Jones' high-and-mighty attitude really pissed him of. Just because he was rich and powerful didn't mean he had the right to look down on anything Matthew decided to do that wasn't 'good enough'.

"Hm." The little grumble was the only response his father made, as he calmly took another sip from his coffee.

"Please, let us not argue…" Elaine suggested meekly, and was met with suffocating silence.

After a while, she once again started some small talk – with Alfred of course – in order to loosen the mood somewhat. Matthew listened without any particular interest as Alfred responded to her polite questions.

How the conversation ever moved onto the slightly taboo subject of 'love' was beyond Matthew's comprehension – love, or even mere affection was something they didn't usually talk about. Yet, it had come up – there was no denying that it had happened. Nor was there any denying the fact that Alfred had grown beat red in a matter of seconds.

"Actually, I… have a love interest," he said, clearing his voice that seemed to tremble slightly with some emotion Matthew recognized all too well. Nervousness coated in slight fear and hesitation… Not an emotion that his twin usually used much.

"Really? What's her name?" Elaine smiled, although her eyes remained as cold as usual. Even Jones seemed interested, although Matthew had a feeling it was only because he was waiting to decide whether or not the person was satisfying enough for his son.

There was a pause, and then Alfred gave an uncertain grin.

"Uh… His name is Arthur Kirkland…"

Another pause. And then all hell broke loose. Needless to say, that this year it looked like it wasn't Matthew's turn to be the cause of argument, although he was the first to leave.

oOo

Matthew sighed as he headed down the calm street, hands buried deep into the pockets of his winter jacket. He could still hear Jones and his brother argue heatedly, even after the house was out of sight, and pictured the look on the man's face. It was priceless, but he didn't envy his younger twin at the moment. He'd known his father was extremely old-fashioned, but he hadn't expected him to react so violently the second time around.

Then again, it must have been a shock. Everyone expected Alfred to be the straight one. Matthew winced as he remembered the similar episode a few years prior, around his first year in high school. He'd finally decided to tell his parents what he'd gradually figured out during the years.

It was also around that time he'd taken his mother's last name and moved out to get by on his own. His father had never accepted anything he did ever since, and still had trouble digesting the fact that his son preferred guys to girls. And now, suddenly, both of his sons did. Matthew silently wondered how much more it would take to give the guy a heart attack.

Wait, he knew something that would. The day Alfred got the guts to tell him he didn't want to inherit his company after all, and wanted to go of to be a pilot and see the world. He'd told Matthew this some time ago. Matthew felt sorry for him, he really did. Even though it hurt to always be in the shadow, it wasn't easy for his brother either. It would be hard for Alfred to break away from the expectations and the life Jones had laid out for him.

Hopefully the tactless fool wouldn't blurt it out in a fit of anger during their fight. That would be pretty much catastrophic. Matthew hadn't waited to find out what would happen, but had instead gotten out of there as quickly as he could, leaving the two to settle their differences in peace – or un-peace, rather, judging by the circumstances.

In the windows of the shops, Christmas lights blinked at him, and he felt yet another heavy sigh escape his lips. It was supposed to be a happy time, wasn't it? He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually looked forward to celebrating Christmas. It was usually spent alone, like any other day, while his parents were left to do whatever they did during the holiday, and Alfred was happy with his friends – and this year, his lover… if Jones didn't kill the poor guy.

To Matthew, this time of year was only yet another reminder of his shitty, insignificant existence. Dark thoughts spread through his mind like poison as he walked. If he was to disappear, who would care? His parents wouldn't, he was sure of that. His mother might cry a few tears, as it was only appropriate to do if ones son was found dead, and his father might put on a solemn face, inwardly cheering at the fact that he now only had one gay son left.

They might not even find out, though. The only times they were in touch where basically the yearly meeting, and that had already found place. Was a year enough for a dead body to rot away and become unrecognisable…?

Stop it, Matthew! He hissed inwardly, not liking the way his thoughts had taken on a dark, sarcastic touch, as though he found some sinister humour in thinking about how his death would affect his parents.

It wasn't like he had any plans to kill himself. Sure, the thought might have struck him from time to time, but he'd never go through with it. He liked to think that despite his non-existent family life, and broken spirit, he still had things to live for. For one, he couldn't leave his brother just like that. Sure, they weren't that close, and Alfred probably didn't even think about him most of the time, but they did care about each other… In some strange, dysfunctional way.

Secondly, he had jobs to go to. He enjoyed working at the café, at least to some degree, and although cleaning the rooms of old, sick people was a shitty thing to do, it still gave him a feeling of doing something useful. Besides, the occasional conversation he would have with the people at the place, both the residents and the workers there, was nice.

The third thing stopping him was that he had a dream. Sure, it was a stupid dream, but one that had stayed with him ever since childhood, despite the fact that he'd pretty much discarded the idea as impossible. He had always wanted to be a musician. Not all famous and stuff – he trembled at the mere thought – but good enough to travel around, playing for people who were sick or had lost hope. Music had helped him, and was one of the few things that kept him going. He wished more than anything to one day be able to bring that same joy to others.

It was idiotic, he knew that. All he had was his old violin, and he sure as hell wouldn't get far with that. Not to mention that he had no time or money to travel.

Coughing mildly into his hand, he pulled his scarf further up into his face, trying to block the cold winter air from seeping down to his lungs. He couldn't afford to get sick again, it wasn't that long since he got out of a hospital after another bout of pneumonia. Damn him and his fucking health. Or rather; lack of such.

It had always been yet another thing for his father to frown upon, no matter how little that helped his situation. He'd grown up constantly being called weak by the man, just because he got ill easily. It was annoying. And it hurt. It wasn't his fucking fault, damn it! As if he'd choose to be the way he was…

A soft sound suddenly made him blink and stop in his tracks. Music. It wasn't the sound of a choir singing Christmas carols to earn money for a good cause, nor was it the sound of some tune from a distant radio. No, this was the sound of one single flute, and Matthew had never thought that one flute alone could portray so much emotion.

A shiver went down his spine as he changed his direction, following the sound, almost as if in a trance. It led him further away from the busiest – although not so busy at the moment – shopping streets, to a smaller walkway leading towards the nearby park. When he reached a bridge, he froze in his tracks.

He wasn't sure whether it was the haunting tunes that seemed to cut into his heart, the beautiful scenery, with light snow making its way down from the skies, or the sight of the young man sitting on the wide railing to the wooden bridge, but he felt tears collecting in his eyes.

The man was trembling slightly, from cold or emotion, he wasn't sure, and tears made their way down his pale face, eyes closed and angelic, silvery white hair fluttering slightly in the wind as he played.

All too soon, the music faded away and stopped entirely. The man opened his eyes and gazed into the water below, seemingly oblivious to the world around him. The flute was clutched tightly in one hand, the other gripping at the railing, as if his life depended on it. Then he proceeded to put the flute in its case, dropping it gently onto the bridge behind him. Matthew felt a sudden feeling of shock at his expression.

He looked almost like Matthew had felt at times – like he wanted nothing more than to disappear for good. Shit…! He gasped when the man stood on the small step on the outside of the railing, hands holding the railing as he looked into the river below.

"Don't do it!" Matthew wasn't even aware that he was the one crying the words as he darted forward. He'd be damned if he let someone throw themselves off a bridge while he was watching.

Time seemed to stand still as he ran, and he was afraid that he'd be too late. Only one thought now occupied his previously busy mind;

Neither of them would die today, damn it!

oOo

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