It was our lazy dinner night; Al didn't demand anything when he came into the dorm kitchens, I didn't say anything. I cooked breakfast for dinner, that's always been our go-to.
When we were between Ontario and New York visits or we were tired, I'd make him maple pancakes with American bacon, a little bit of both homes. It was our small comfort.
We were mostly quiet through dinner, the fluorescent lighting and white floors setting a pretty depressing mood with us in our sweats. It was just like back at home, but I doubt home had this nice of utensils.
Alfred's fork clattered onto the half-empty plate. "Mattie, what do you think of Gil?" He glanced up at me, strangely serious for once.
"What do you mean?"
Of course I know what he means.
He shrugged offhandedly. "Bro like just what do you think if him? Is he cool or whatever?"
"I guess?" I made a face at him across the tiny table. "Stop acting weird, Al, just eat your pancakes."
To be honest it kept bothering me that people would comment on the subject ever since the group lunch. We hardly interacted and if I wasn't invited by Eli, none of that would have happened in the first place. It just wasn't realistic.
I glumly looked down at my stack of pancakes, realizing that they didn't taste as good as they normally did. I probably messed up with the ratios.
Glancing up, I could see Alfred hadn't seemed to notice; he dropped the subject for now and continued chomping away while he scrolled through his Twitter. It was demoralizing to see him pay so little attention to the food, but that's him. I wasn't in the mood to reprimand him anyway.
I stood up from the table and slid the food into the trash bin beside the sink, somber and exhausted.
"Hey, Mattie, I didn't mean to upset you, you know," he admitted. His blue eyes were clear and bright, although sleep deprived. "I want you happy, and Elizabeta started talking to me and so did Antonio, Francis, and Artie." He hesitated before saying his next words. "We all think it's worth a shot. Lovino and Ludwig are staying out of it, but face the facts, dude," he said growing more confident as he kept speaking, rationalizing. "You don't go out and he goes out too much. He's about to graduate and has no idea what he's going to do with his life. You know exactly what you want to do. It just… works. I don't know."
He threw out his hands in front of him. "Romance isn't my thing. I'm trying, though. In psychology we learned about people's personalities, and, well, Matt, I'm just worried about you. I'm not gonna be around forever. You want to travel the world cooking, but how're you gonna do that if you don't want to get out more."
He only looked up to see my profile; I couldn't face him while he said all of that. "Alfred, I'm perfectly fine. I have friends. I have social skills," I assured him, pinching the bridge of my nose in annoyance. "Just because I choose not to attend every single party of the week doesn't mean I'm socially inept." Al didn't seem convinced. "Pay a little more attention in class next time or stop ogling Lars and see if you learn better."
Even I could feel the hurt that caused him. But what's said is said.
"Bro, that was just mean," he whispered. The frigid atmosphere was tangible now. "You know what? I don't know why I bother with you. You never changed in high school and I always tried; you just stayed inside and cooked. Maybe Gilbert digs the housewives. You're bitchy enough to be one now, too."
"If all you're going to do is criticize me, then why do you bother coming over anymore? Please, don't feel obligated to keep me company, Al. By all means, go for hookup number sixteen since we've been at school!"
The screech of the chair sliding back was too loud, too sharp. The wood on marble was unsettling, not as unsettling, though, as the expression on Al's face, on my big brother's face. "Yeah, just keep going at it, Mattie, real nice! Fuck this." He stormed out of the kitchen, food half-eaten, chair too far back, and hand digging into the pouch of his hoodie and his ruffled hair.
Shit.
I slumped back down into my seat with my head in my hands. I messed up big time. I went for the one thing I shouldn't have: Lars. It was the heat of the moment, sure, that still doesn't excuse it.
"Fuck," I mumbled, feeling a buzzing in my pocket.
Keeping my eyes closed, I dug into my jean's pocket to find the cause of the noise; I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone after I fucked up like that.
Unknown: hey what's up
M: uh do I know you? who is this
G: gilbert
My eyes shot out of my skull. A million thoughts ran through my mind at once when I saw that name on the phone screen. The bright light was numbing to my eyes, and this revelation was like a fire crawling up my skins. I had no doubt that Elizabeta was behind this. And actually, I'm not mad. At all.
M: oh
M: um
M: hey I guess
G: hey to you too
M: so…
G: matt cut the crap don't be so awkward
G: I just wanted to ask if you were coming to the party on Saturday
I started pondering about my next move; this was a chess game and I had to think five steps ahead. Normally, Alfred always bested me in any game we played, his logical side kicking in because he hated to lose. The politician inside of him begged to be number one. I, on the other hand, was as royally screwed as a monarch in 1700s France.
I grimaced at my own lack of flirting ability and at the state I was currently in. I just had a bad argument with my brother, I just made crappy pancakes, and I've spent the last few days struggling to deal with too many new people staring at me all the time.
You know what? I suck at chess anyway, so let's do the one thing that fucks you up from the first play: give away your strategy.
M: I was planning to but Al and I kinda fought just now and he's usually the one I stick with at parties
M: don't know if we'll be fine by then
I put the phone away and decided to start scrubbing away at the dishes. Maybe if I imagined they were Al's face I could get rid of the pent up anger. And it worked, I swear, then Gilbert texted back. The dude's a Communications major, he knows about this type of thing.
The little shit. How do I avoid interaction now?
I caught myself laughing at my phone, Gilbert falling into serious academic mode by habit and describing how to fix miscommunications. It was… cute. And sweet. And highly unnecessary because I don't have to be falling in love and proving these people right, even though I really do want to.
The scary part is, I feel like this and I barely know him. Imagine when I do.
M: i'll be there
M: Uh, hey, Al, it's Mattie, just checking up on you. We left off on a bad note tonight. Call me back when you can.
M: It's Thursday, ha, uh, yeah, I still feel bad. Just let me know, I guess. I'm worried.
M: Yeah, okay, it's Friday, dude. How much longer are we going to drag this on? I haven't left this many voicemails since that time Mom flipped out on us going to Niagara Falls on our own. Remember that? Even she wasn't as mad at us as you are at me right now. I said some fucked up shit, let meet up and apologize. I don't want to be the douche that apologizes over phone, much less voicemail. I'm heading to the party tomorrow, by the way. Beep.
M: With Gilbert. Well, not with, but indirectly. Wish you were here to help me figure this out. It's fun pre-gaming with you. Hope we can do it tomorrow. Call me back.
A: Hey, Matt. Don't feel like talking. Try again tomorrow.
"Damn it. Fuck."
My body sagged forward as my head fell to hit the bar. The deep brown veneer was too shiny under the obnoxiously bright lights. It was mid-afternoon and the hide-out beneath the campus was meant to give me solace; instead, it was making me more tense and anxious. Noise within the expansive room was muffled to my ears, drowned out by the buzz of the alcohol I'd had for the past two days. It was a blur; I kept texting Gilbert after Alfred left.
I was cautious and closed off, but I was willing. If not being willing is what made Al rage at me, then so be it. I threw my shot, now I'm going to the party with or without him. I groaned at the thought of drunk students humping each other in plain view in some kid's apartment.
"What's wrong? Still Alfred?"
I shifted my head slightly to peer up at Carlos, the bartender here on campus. "Yeah. I was a dick, majorly, I get that. I want to apologize and he isn't letting me," I muttered, taking my glasses off and replacing them at the top of my head to rub at my eyes. It hurt less to have them off sometimes. The added bonus was that I didn't have to focus on anything specifically.
"I knew Al was petty, but wow." He shook his head in admiration, wiping down sets glasses. "That's a new level of it. Hell hath no fury like Alfred F. Jones," he joked.
"Thanks, Carlos, definitely appreciate it."
He raised his hands up in success, flicking the rag to rest on his shoulder instead. His arms were placed in front of him as he leaned down on them, staring at me with a glint of curiosity. "Hey, don't take it out on me. I wasn't the one that stabbed his brother in the back."
I laughed bitterly at the kind reminder. "Oh, yeah, almost forgot about that. I thought I was enough drinks in, guess not."
"Here's a thought: why don't you just visit his dorm room. It's France. An international university. You guys are adults. You're literally sitting at my bar drinking when you could be over there fixing the issue and quiting your moping."
"I could, I guess." I sighed at the inevitable plan of action I'd have to take. I may have manned up and agreed to go regardless, but it wouldn't be the same without his reckless nature there too. His insistence on getting me to drink managed to make me grin despite the disgusting environment.
"Then get off your ass and do that. It's barely even three in the afternoon and you're like this. Get a hold of yourself, Matthew." Carlos shook his head with admonition at me. "I thought you were bad enough with your twin here; I can see who the worst of the two is."
I winced at his blunt honesty. Sure, it stung, rubbing salt in the wound, someone had to do it, though. "Always so nice to us, appreciate it." I tipped back the last of what was in my glass and slid it to him with a bill as well. It wasn't until the stool was pushed back and I was fixing the glasses atop my head that he spoke once more.
"Just get up and fix the issues, I don't want to see you here 'til you get rid of that stupid look on your face," he threatened. "It looks weird; you're too pasty to be looking that dark and depressed."
I set off with a small grin on my face, my footsteps clunky and wobbly, my mind set and sharp.
I winced once I climbed up the sleek stairs of the dormitories and stood in front of the door with superhero stickers plastered all over it and the whiteboard with loud red letters spelling out STAY OUT. I was hesitating as I raised my fist to rap on the wood when I nearly had a heart attack as a door down the hall slammed open.
"Fuck," I whispered, clutching at my shirt.
Who the fuck needs to be the Hulk when opening a damn door?
I shook my head and just went for it. "Al!" I banged on the wood until it opened in a rush.
Alfred leant against the doorframe sans a shirt and with dark circles marring his normally bright disposition. This was the Alfred that we only saw during finals week. "What? Come here to bash on me again, little bro?" A blonde was seen in the background getting dressed; only her shirt and underwear were on. "Oh, or maybe you're here to talk about number twenty?" He scoffed.
"Number seventeen."
Rolling his eyes, he waved his hand in the air, obviously not caring as the girl rapidly made her way out of the room with hardly a glance my way. "Whatever. Just what do you want? I'm meeting up with Artie, I don't have time for this."
"Like hell you don't," I growled. "I never reprimand you and you don't reprimand me, and that's going to change today."
I shoved past him into his dorm and slammed the door behind me. A hurricane could pass through this room and it would leave less of a mess than Al on his own.
A trash bin full of empty takeout, condom wrappers, chip bags, you name it and it found a home in that filth. His bed was even worse with his dark sheets rumpled and undone. The desk was left untouched save for a notebook open with scattered pens and stacked textbooks.
The floor… that's a topic for another day.
I kept standing by, waiting for the grouch to take a seat on his bed; this was a pure reenactment of us any time we fucked up at home; the catch was that now it was me standing up and only him sitting down.
"I was out of line. I know that. I upset you. I know that." I sighed, crossing my arms and pushing my weight back against the wall. "On top of all of that, I called you out when you were just looking out for me. I was the dick in the conversation, okay? But, geez, Al," I pleaded at him, "cut me some slack too. You're used to being with those types of people, I'm not. I know Elizabeta, Antonio, and Felicinao because of cooking. Do you know how much we speak there? None! I barely talk to them during class; I get, max, twenty minutes with them a class, if that. It's tough, you're the social one, not me. I walked in and you blended in. I walked in and it was a like that baby calf we got to see at the zoo. Fucking calf could barely walk."
Al ran his fingers through his hair; he hadn't even gone out, he didn't have product in his hair today. "Damn, Matt. You're right; you are that calf." He laughed to himself.
I rolled my eyes at the vote of confidence. "Ha, ha. Thanks." I smiled despite myself, a tiny nostalgic smile. "Do you get me, though? I don't want this to keep happening. I'm trying here, I really am. Once you stormed out, I got a text from him."
His eyes shot open and he sprang up with the news. "Who? Gil? Oh, shit. Tell me everything."
"It wasn't much." I shrugged, handing him the phone.
"Yeah, right, this is flirting material here, Mattie. And I missed your expression when you got this? Shit, that would've been gold for Art."
It was nice, just nice, to be able to act like a kid with Alfred. He hardly let himself be taken seriously if it wasn't in a competition mode, and it was refreshing having it rub off on me. The high stakes of cooking always wound me up, and in the end it wasn't worth missing out on the entertainment that was Alfred F. Jones.
"Al."
"Hm? Yeah?" He mumbled, eyes hyper-focused on the conversation he started dissecting and sending to Arthur – I'm not even going to bother stopping him; it's Arthur of all people, what's he going to do?
"I miss you sometimes, I miss the stuff like this from back home," I said, sitting down on the desk chair. The notes were detailed and highlighted, I could tell once I flipped through it. A proud expression made its way to my face when I realized my study habits from high school were eventually picked up. I swiveled back around to see him no longer engrossed in the old conversation. "I really do miss having my twin. So, what do you say? Are you over this?"
Alfred had a pensive stare as he slowly set the phone down on the desk, screen down, before he crept his arm around my shoulders.
"Al, WAIT!"
My shout was too late; I was already in a headlock with my face stuffed into the floor, muffling my raucous laughter.
"You're too sappy for me right now, bro! You really are a mess when you're drunk!"
"Okay, okay," I wheezed in pain from the laughing and the knees digging into my back, or maybe from the muscled teen sitting on top of me without a care in the world. "I give!"
The weight was gone and I was hauled up as if I weighed nothing. I leant onto Al while we caught our breath and kept chuckling or snorting at ourselves. The last thing I expected was a hug from Alfred so fast that I nearly missed it completely.
Sneaking a glance up at the boy wonder that was my brother I caught a glimpse of the embarrassed look. It was worth the world to me.
"So, since this is all past us, do you, I don't know, want to head out and get some food with Artie? We could even work on your pickup lines for Gilbert tomorrow," he cheekily said, dashing for the closet to avoid my punch.
Our laughter reverberated through the hallways until we finally headed out.
Thank you once again for the continued support and reads! I definitely appreciate it all. If you ever want to message me and ask any questions or just talk, feel free to. I'm always open to discuss things with.
P.S. This was my longest one yet and I think I'll keep them to around 3,000 or 5,000, those tend to be what I prefer anyway.
