Matthew watched the dark, dreary clouds as they filled the normally bright sky. A storm would be rolling in soon as well, he had no doubt about that. Everything seemed so much gloomier than it had the month before; even the roses seemed to have disappeared early for the season. Francis would likely be in a huff throughout the entire storm, worried about the damage it would do to his precious roses. It was impossible to deny that it was going to be a rough one though, not when trees were already shaking in the wind when the rain hadn't even shown up yet.
The other two men sitting in his bedroom didn't seem nearly as worried about what was happening outside, however. He had long since stopped paying attention to what they were saying as well. It would be the same thing that it always was. Gilbert would be telling long, highly exaggerated stories of the adventures he had years before while Lars would ignore him in favour of his cigar. Matthew could hardly blame Lars for it. The stories were old and overdone while the cigars tasted as good as they always did.
"So, you see, after slipping some of the harder stuff into his drink, I started to tell him all about how hot it was and complimenting him on his nice muscles. The ladies over in the next-"
"Shut up, Gilbert. Matthew doesn't want to listen to your old stories," Lars stepped in.
Gilbert's shoulders sagged, his enthusiasm draining out of him. "I swear that this just happened a few months ago! Besides, Birdie always enjoys it when I tell him about these things. A lot more than when you try and tell stories."
"Says the ungrateful prick."
"Of course I'm grateful for what Birdie's done for me. You're just an over sensitive, broke bastard whose opinion I couldn't give two shits about."
"So, you're jealous now as well?"
"It would be really nice if the two of you were able to stop fighting," Matthew spoke up, his voice quiet, "Neither of you are in the right here. I do enjoy listening to your stories, Gilbert, even if I have heard them over and over again. However, I'm not really in the mood to listen to them this afternoon. That doesn't mean that I wouldn't have told him that if they were truly bothering me though, Lars."
All three of them fell silent. A faint smoky haze surrounded them as Lars smoked his thick cigar, the windows and doors firmly shut. Matthew took a deep breath, letting its strong smell fill his lungs as his eyes stayed trained on the window. Everything was much more peaceful now that Gilbert had stopped talking but there was something almost unsettling about the silence. It was almost as if there was no difference between him sitting there with Lars and Gilbert, and him sitting there by himself. Both seemed equally depressing.
Matthew tried to pretend that this was just an odd feeling that he'd been in today; that he would wake up in the morning and everything would be the same again. But he'd woken up in this mood almost consistently over the past month. If it hadn't been for the servants, he was certain that he wouldn't have even left his bed at all. It was only on Gilbert's account that he'd left the house at all throughout the past two weeks now and even that had taken a bit of tooth pulling on his friend's part. This was a despicable way to live but he couldn't seem to stop.
"We're not going to wait forever," Lars commented, blowing more smoke from his mouth.
"You don't know how much it pains me to say this, Birdie, but he's right. You refuse to tell us why you're so upset. Unfortunately, even I'm incapable of reading minds and I've waited more than long enough for you to tell me on your own account," Gilbert said.
Lars snorted. "I can't blame him for that part."
"Shut it, smoke face! You should be glad that I let you in my glorious presence."
"Never."
"It's only your own fault if you're blind to my obvious superiority over the rest of the human race. But, Birdie, you haven't even gone down to the conservatory in weeks now and I know that you love going down there to read in the sun."
"We deserve an explanation."
The words made Matthew sigh as he looked away from the dreary sky for the first time in hours. Both of his friends were looking back at him, their concern visible on their faces. It felt like something bitter exploded in the back of his mouth as he watched them, trying to figure out what to say to them. A thought of what he wanted to say lingered in the back of his mind but the words didn't leave his mouth.
His hands clenched as he pushed the possibility out of his mind. It had been a silly thought and not one that he should entertain. The longer that he looked at the two men though, the harder he found it to open his mouth and tell them what it was. It was like someone had frozen his mind, stopping anything him from even quite remembering what it was that had been bothering him so much. They were waiting for him to say something though, and he couldn't disappoint them by saying nothing at all.
"I don't know," Matthew admitted, hesitating before he continued on, "Or at least, I don't think that it could be what I believe it to be. Everything's all a mess at the moment regardless."
"We knew it. Your courtship with Katyusha has failed, hasn't it?" Lars said, closing his eyes.
Gilbert leaned forward in his seat. "Oh, what happened? Did you betray her by going to the whorehouse and bedding a whore? There's nothing to be ashamed of if you did, we were expecting it to happen some day. Or maybe she caught you with another woman! I knew you were holding back all the juicy details."
"Try not to let your mind get too far in the gutter."
"Both of you are wrong! Nothing has happened in regards to my courtship with Katyusha. I've been writing her as normal and both of us are satisfied with our current arrangement," Matthew denied, shaking his head.
"I won't judge you if something did happen," Lars said as he stared intently at Matthew.
Gilbert's grin was wide as his eyes filled with eagerness, "I wouldn't either, dummkopf! Did her heart break when she found out you could never truly love her?"
"Gilbert, stop. She's known that I don't love her for a long time now and you know that."
"Fine, fine! It's not as if either one of us could judge you after everything anyways. Even if you were secretly killing off the handmaids in the middle of the night, I wouldn't be the one to rat you out to the police. In fact, I would help you hide the bodies if you asked it of me."
"I would do it as well," Lars added in.
"I think that may be going a bit too far, really. But, even then, it has nothing to do with Katyusha or secretly killing off maids. Really, it's difficult enough to admit it to myself, nevermind to the two of you as well."
Matthew looked over at Gilbert, their eyes meeting for a moment. He had forgotten that Gilbert might be able to understand what he was going through in the midst of all his worry. Though Gilbert had never directly come out and said anything about it, they still had a silent understanding of where each other stood on the matter.
Revealing it wasn't something he was entirely sure he wanted to do though. It was easier to keep it to himself where he was capable of denying that it existed, even to himself. Sometime people had to do that in order to save themselves. It was just deciding whether or not this was one of those times.
"Amazing things can pass you by while you're thinking about this so much," Lars commented, nonchalantly.
Matthew and Gilbert turned their heads to gape at the Dutchman. One last billow of smoke came from Lars' mouth before he ground the last bit of the cigar into the ashtray, not paying attention to either of them. Neither of them could figure out just how exactly to respond to the comment that had seemingly come out of nowhere. Were they supposed to laugh? Or perhaps it would be better if they ignored the words completely and continue on. It would even be fairly easy to pretend that the new found knowledge was complete and utter nonsense.
"You bother think I'm stupid, don't you?" Lars asked, dryly.
"Of course not! I'm sorry - we're both sorry, actually - that we responded in such an inappropriate way," Matthew nervously pushed some of his hair behind his ear, "It's a lot more complicated than that though. I would be sinning if I ever acted on my desires concerning this. Only the lowest pits of Hell would be acceptable for me then."
"We've all sinned, Matthew."
"You shouldn't be so concerned about going to Heaven anyways, Birdie! That place is probably just going to be filled with boring, stuck up pricks who were never able to let loose and have a little bit of fun through their lives," Gilbert added with a nod.
Matthew glanced back and forth between his two friends. The tension in his shoulders started to disappear and he felt so stupid. They both watched him confidently and he knew that no matter what he told them, they were be there for him. It was a wonder that he managed to such loyalty in a place where he was so unhappy and as his doubts started to disappear, he knew that any of his friends would accept him if he told them this.
"At the party last month, I… met someone," he began.
"I knew it! There was no way that you'd be able to hide that lovesick expression from me, Birdie. I've seen it a million times before and you won't be the last," Gilbert exclaimed, leaning back in his chair.
Matthew shook his head. "That's not all though. The person I met isn't a woman. He… well, his name is Alfred Jones. He lived in the colonies up until now."
"It's a man?" Lars spoke up, his voice quiet.
"Yes, a man. That's why I was so worried but he truly fascinates me. He could just look at me and I would give him the entire world if I could. It's an odd feeling and I feel as if I should just ignore it because it's truly disgusting but I find myself incapable of doing so."
"And here I thought that you'd never feel that way towards anyone!" Gilbert said, a grin on his face, "You want to bed him, don't you? You want to spend your life with him."
"I don't know. Maybe. Probably. I never thought that such a thing was possible."
"It is, Birdie. There's nothing wrong with it either, or at least there shouldn't be, no matter what the Bible says. You should send him a letter or ask if you stay in their home for a while."
"No, I couldn't. There's no way that he could feel the same way about me. Besides, I don't even know if that's what I'm truly feeling."
Matthew and Gilbert quickly got caught up in their conversation, discussing everything that he could do to meet up with Alfred once more. They barely even noticed as Lars grew quiet, excusing himself before the afternoon was over.
Al swung his hips to a silent beat as he put a couple pieces of bread into the toaster. The journal was sitting on the counter next to him; he'd been reading it almost non-stop all morning. While he stayed downstairs and safe from whatever was hiding in the attic. It was bad enough that he'd have to go up there when Matt got back.
His hips stopped moving as the doorbell rang, a smile spreading across his face. He ran for the door, forgetting about his breakfast for the time being. The faint outline of Matt could be seen through the clouded glass of the front door when he got there, just as he expected. Maybe one day Matt would stop bothering with ringing the doorbell whenever he showed up. Al seriously doubted that that day would ever come.
The door was quickly opened and he smiled at Matt, "Hey, I was wondering when you were going to show up. I just need to grab my breakfast and then we can… Dude, you look like shit. What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Matt muttered.
Matt stepped inside the house, a scowl on his face. The words he'd just read flashed through Al's mind as he watched Matt peel off his thin jacket and deposit it onto the chair there, his shoes kicked off into the corner a moment later. Having sex with a man. Al had never thought about it before; he'd never considered it as a real option. Sure, he'd heard about stuff like that but he'd never put it into context with himself. Matt was gay even. Yet he'd never thought about his own position.
Every one of Matt's features seemed to be highlighted in his mind because of this journal. Because of the attraction that Matthew had apparently held for Alfred. It made him notice Matt's long eyelashes; the strong, lean muscles in his legs and back; those long, thin fingers.
"Al?"
Al snapped out of it. "What?"
Matt rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Anyways, as I was saying, I'm fine. I'm just a bit frustrated. Or a lot frustrated."
"How come?" Al asked, walking towards the kitchen.
"I told Papa about the journal last night. Apparently, it was in my best interests to hear all about what he and Arthur read about in it. He didn't spare any of the details either. I really wish that he had."
"Sweet! Shouldn't you be excited that you got to find out all about that stuff? I tried asking Artie about it last night but he just kept saying that it was 'none of my bloody business'!"
"You don't want to know. Trust me."
Al frowned, his shoulders slumping. The entire thing was so exciting! Everyone seemed to be determined that he didn't find out about the other side of the story though and he didn't think that was even slightly fair.
The pieces of toast were pulled out of the toaster and Al quickly got to work on buttering them. His stomach was growling and he wasn't about to ignore it for any longer. Once his toast was buttered, he turned around and leaned against the counter, quickly digging into his food. Matt raised an eyebrow at him as he devoured his food within a couple of bites.
"Do you want something to eat?" Al asked, sheepishly smiling as he set his plate down in the sink.
"Nah, I'm good. Especially after that display."
Al snickered at the disgusted look on Matt's face.
"Oh, you're here already, Matthew?" Arthur asked as he walked into the room.
A strange, sick feeling started to build up in the pit of his stomach as Al watched his older brother walk in wearing nothing more than his boxers and an old t-shirt. He could see Matt's eyes following Arthur's every move. It made him sick.
It was a connection that he'd ever made before now. Matt had told him countless times that he loved the look of a guy early in the morning, especially when they were only wearing a pair of boxers. Almost like what Arthur was wearing at the moment. It made him want to drag Matt out of the room, far away from Arthur and his stupid boxers.
Arthur wasn't good enough for Matt and he never would be.
"Yeah, I got here a few minutes ago. I didn't want to waste anymore time than necessary," Matt responded,
Arthur nodded absentmindedly, grabbing a mug from the cupboard, "Did you end up getting the journal from that bloody wanker? I doubt he had it buried away like I did."
"He definitely didn't hide it away; it was on his bookshelf. But I'm not allowed to look at it quite yet, apparently. Actually, he wanted me to tell you that he's typing it up on his computer, even if you don't approve of it. He was rather adamant after I told him that it was likely that only the two of you would be able to read it."
"That frog!" the mug slammed down onto the counter, "I'm sorry but I'll talk to you two later. I think it's due time that I beat some sense into that man."
Arthur stormed out of the kitchen, blind to everything except his rage. Then the front door slammed. Al looked over at Matt and both of them burst out into laughter the moment they made eye contact. That was just like Arthur to storm down the road instead of picking up the phone and calling them instead.
"Papa is going to be very happy when he opens the door to Arthur like that," Matt commented, in between his laughter.
Alfred started to laugh even harder, "I know! Man, Artie's going to be so embarrassed when he realizes that the entire neighbourhood just say him running down the road in his underwear."
The two of them made eye contact again, the laughter starting all over again. The feeling was a contagious one and Al wasn't even sure why it was so hilarious to the two of them. It just felt wonderful to laugh with Matt like this. Imagining Arthur's face when he realized what he'd just done made it that nice bit sweeter though.
"Is Francis really typing that thing up?" Al asked when the moment had passed, "That seems a bit… invasive, actually. If it's anything like the one here then the things in there are rather personal."
"Yeah, he is. Papa isn't really known for his ability to hold back, after all. He'd been going at it for about an hour before I left and I doubt that Arthur is going to be able to change his mind about it either," Matt confirmed, looking exasperated.
"Oh man, Artie's going to throw a spectacular fit!"
Matthew sat in one of the large, cushioned chairs in the library, sipping a cup of his favourite black tea. His body was relaxed and he looked a lot better than he had the day before. He'd made the effort to leave his room even though he couldn't go much further with the weather so miserable. An odd look passed his face as the porcelain of the cup hit his tooth but it was gone in a flash as he returned to his thoughts.
Talking to Gilbert and Lars had done wonders for him and his state of mind. Already, he felt so much calmer than he had before; so much more acceptant of what he'd been feeling over the past month. He'd been so concerned about nothing, it seemed.
The sight of Francis caught the corner of his eye and he forced any thought of Alfred out of his mind. Neither of them said anything as Francis sat down in the chair across from Matthew with a glass of red wine in his grasp. Matthew looked away as Francis stared at him, finding sudden interest in his tea. For a moment, he felt ashamed of having his bare feet beside him on the chair but he pushed the feeling back. He refused to change simply because his older brother didn't approve.
"Surely you're not going to spend the rest of the evening in here moping, Mathieu. It's bad enough that you've made yourself so scarce over the past month," Francis said, putting his glass down on the small table beside him.
Matthew rolled his eyes, "Regardless of the rumours you might have heard, I'm not upset about anything. I can't deny that I was a day or two ago but in the mean time, I've gotten over it. So there's nothing that should concern you, unless it's now become a crime to sit and drink some tea?"
"Mathieu, I don't have to talk to Gilbert to find out that my petit frère has been upset."
"For some reason, I'm not inclined to believe that."
"Have I done something to make you hate me so?"
Shoulders tensing, Matthew took a sudden interest in his cup. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't shut out Francis' words entirely. It took everything in his power not to get up and storm to his bedroom. He wasn't in the mood for one of his brother's guilt trips on why he hated him so much. There was only so much he could take before he blurted it all out.
"It seems that you do hate me then. Please, regardless of whatever it is that I've obviously done, don't think that I'm so horrible as to not have noticed that you've been under the weather for weeks now. It wasn't a little bird that informed me," Francis begged.
But Matthew knew that even this was as fake as everything else his brother did. "I apologize. Your life is always so busy that it would be silly of me to think that you'd notice something as miniscule as my welfare. I wouldn't expect anything else though, not when you're still recovering from her death. Immersing yourself in silly social politics seems to have been your way of dealing with it."
"I promise that it hasn't been my intention to ostracize you."
"Even if that wasn't your intent, it was the outcome."
Francis deflated at the harshly spoken words, forcing his gaze away from Matthew. "I have no excuses for you. Still, I'm grateful that you're still here with me. Even if it doesn't seem like it at times, I don't know what I'd do if it were just me in this big, lonely house. I do feel, you know. I still see her around every corner, always just far enough away from me that I can't reach her. Not a moment goes by without me thinking about her."
"I know there's nothing I can do about it. And even if I wasn't here, the servants still would be."
"That's not what I'm talking about and you know it, Mathieu."
Matthew averted his eyes and both of them fell silent. Getting up and leaving meant that they were giving into the other but neither of them knew what they should do next. They were at a standstill. Or at least, that was how Matthew thought of it. It was how he'd thought of every single one of their conversations, ever since he'd come to this place a couple of years previous. They were battles that needed to be won with each sentence spoken affecting the final outcome. But he knew that one day he would lose the war.
"I'd like it if you were to accompany to Spain in order to visit Antonio next week. We haven't had enough time alone with each other," Francis spoke up, picking up his glass once more and swirling the liquid around in it.
"And what if I don't wish to go with you?" Matthew automatically responded.
"I hope that you'll reconsider that. We've never truly gotten the chance to bond like we should have as children and I truly want to remedy that."
"It's far too-"
"Please, Mathieu."
"Fine, I'll go with you to Spain next week," Matthew frowned, "I doubt that anything will change but there's nothing stopping me from doing my part.
"Thank you."
Matthew didn't say another word as Francis got up. They didn't exchange any more pleasantries and he felt an odd sense of loss as he watched Francis walk away from him. The gap between them had slowly started to become a chasm sometime over the past six months. Bringing the two of them together would be nearly impossible from now on. Maybe it was better this way; better to be estranged from the brother he didn't truly know.
That had been a battle that he hadn't won.
Al leaned back in the rocking chair, the leather journal open on his lap. It was a lot harder to focus on the words on the page than it had been the day before, or even earlier that morning. Whenever he read more than a sentence or two at a time, he would get distracted by Matt sifting through the boxes. It didn't seem like anything too interesting at the moment anyways. There was nothing in there about him, which there totally should have been! Those parts were always a lot more exciting to read.
"Al, are you alright?" Matt spoke up.
His body jerked, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Huh? Oh, I'm fine! I just got a bit distracted there for a moment."
"Alright then."
Matt looked at him for a moment and he dutifully went back to trying to read the journal. The words seemed to blur in front of his eyes though. Continuously slipping away whenever his attention even somewhat faded from where it was supposed to be.
The pocket watch was pulled out of his pants pocket it for a moment. Al turned it over in his hand, letting his fingers run over the fine details that made it so beautiful. It opened with a soft click and he stared at his name carved into the metal on the inside. One of many mysteries that hadn't been solved yet. It seemed like more and more questions kept coming up the longer they searched for the answers. He gently closed it again, slipping it back into his pocket.
"Do you want to come downstairs with me to make some hot chocolate?" Al asked, sheepishly, "I don't think that I'm capable of focusing on this too much right now. I mean, I know that I'm wonderful at taking things in and all that but this is a bit much to make sense of. Right?"
"Well, I'm not going to comment on your normal reaction to things but this is a bit… much," Matt agreed, cracking a smile, "I'm guessing that you want me to make the hot chocolate for you?"
"Who else would be making the hot chocolate? Definitely not me! Not when nothing can compare to your hot chocolate."
"You know, I don't do anything spec-"
"Shh, you'll ruin magic of it."
Al shot a grin towards Matt before he quickly climbed down the stairs. He practically raced down to the kitchen, barely even checking to see if Matt was following him down. He knew that Matt was. That was something that the two of them were used to. It was something normal.
Not like the things that Al had been reading in that journal. The things that Matthew had felt towards Alfred long ago. Those were things that Al didn't want to think about. It wasn't normal. It didn't fit with how he'd always thought about the world. He was good friends with Matt and they always had been good friends but that was all they were. His perception of everything was changing though with this extra layer of reality. It was making him see things that he'd never wanted to see.
