Thank you for your patience, here is chapter four.
Mattie opened the door, his other hand shoved into his hoodie pocket. "Père is home," there was relief in his voice as he went to greet him. Gilbert listened as his quiet footsteps left, and voices rose as the Frenchman greeted his son gleefully.
"Mon Matthieu! Have you had a nice day?" Conversation and the like flowed easily, and the German found himself resenting their kind of relationship compared to that of his family's.
He knew the voice well, because many a time he'd heard it whisper false comfort into his ears. Paid comfort. Bonnefoy. Only now did he realise that Matthew actually did resemble his French father a bit, but mostly because of the hairstyle.
Arthur chuckled and was saying something about a guest. Mattie's face appeared at the doorway to the bathroom. "Come on, Gilbert-"
"Uh, I-" The white-haired man was tugged down the hallway and into the kitchen.
"Ohonhonhon, what's this I hear about a friend-" Francis Bonnefoy, in all his platinum glory, let his jaw drop upon seeing who his son's new friend was.
And what state he was in.
"Gilbert….what are you…" He couldn't get the words out.
Mattie looked to his father abruptly. "You know him?" Sparkling crystal blue eyes looked to him. "Oui, he is one of my clients." Mattie's violet eyes widened and he faced Gilbert. "Is this true?" Gilbert remained silent, too exhausted to be shocked.
"Gilbert, why are you here?" Asked Francis.
"I was invited." The attention of the Frenchman turned back towards his son. "Matthieu-"
"I didn't know!" Blurted the Canadian defensively. "We met at an art class-" Suddenly Francis realised. Mon Dieu….Matthieu is the boy Gilbert mentioned…
"Francis, what on Earth is going on here?" Arthur asked from behind his eyebrows.
Francis took each younger man by the shoulder, leading them away. "Worry not, mon cher, I will sort this out."
The room Francis introduced as his study took Gilbert by surprise: antique furniture, regal carpets, floral and Renaissance patterns adorning every inch. Mattie sat stiffly on an ancient armchair, whilst Gilbert slumped onto a small sofa. Francis remained standing. He sighed. "So you met on the day I sent you to art class."
Both nodded.
"And are you in a re-"
"Nein," Snapped Gilbert. "If that's all you're worried about then I-"
"We're just friends," Matthew's quiet voice strained to be heard. There was nothing but quiet as Bonnefoy assessed the situation. Finally, he spoke up, "If you are friends, I have no problem with that. But-" the Frenchman glanced at Mattie, "-I'm going to have to stop being Gilbert's therapist."
"Was? Why?" Gilbert's angry tone pierced the air.
"Because it will interfere with our professional client-therapist relationship," Francis explained simply. "I do not mind you being friends with my son but it means you will, to some extent, be involved in my personal life. I will no longer be able to keep an unbiased perspective to help you with your therapy."
I knew it, thought Matthew. I knew he was getting help.
"I-if it will help Gilbert, we could stop being friends." The suggestion left his lips reluctantly, surprising both his father and friend.
"Non, it is a bit late. I can simply give Gilbert a referral but-" He carried on quickly after catching the albino's glare- "you two shouldn't throw away friendship. Don't ever do that to yourselves. Now, if you'll excuse moi, I have a phone call to make." With those words, he left.
"I-I'm sorry, Gilbert," Said man looked over to Matthew, who had his knuckles over his mouth and appeared tearful. Suddenly guilt flowed into him, and his thin eyebrows sunk in pity. "N-no, it's not your fault-"
"It is. Because of me, you'll have to see a new therapist and start therapy all over again a-and I just wanted to h-help you." Shaking his head, Gilbert got up and knelt by the blonde man, sternly meeting his eyes. "Mattie, Mattie, listen. You are helping."
Purple eyes drowned in red. "How can I be helping, especially after how I found you today."
Gilbert exhaled quietly. "You're helping, just by being a friend to me. I feel...I feel a bit better around you, like the world isn't such a bad place."
Mattie let out a sniffle, pushing his glasses up to catch the premature tears. Without warning, the fragile Canadian slid down to the floor and wrapped his arms gently around Gilbert's broad shoulders, laying his head on his collarbone.
"..." The German was unable to think; his arms moved of their own accord, encircling the blonde's skinny waist.
For the first time in years, Gilbert hugged someone back. He felt Mattie's head on his shoulder, his soft breathing tickling the sensitive skin on his neck, his limbs wanting to hold him, both in apology and gratitude.
Their heads turned at the sound of a door opening. "Boys, Ludwig is here to collect you, Gil- ohonhonhonhon, only friends hm?" Mattie quickly relinquished his hug, blushing brightly. Gilbert, meanwhile, was scowling. Bloody pervert. "Oi, I don't need picking up, I'm the older brother!"
"Mm, well he's come all this way so might it not be courteous to go with him?"
"...Whatever," He dismissed as he rose to his still-bare feet. "Bye, Mattie."
"B-bye, Gilbert." Blonde strands danced around the timid Canadian's face as he also stood, watching as Gilbert passed Francis, his nostrils flared at the humiliation of being collected by his little brother. Well, as Francis so often thought, not so little now.
Strolling over, Matthew glimpsed a grin on Francis's handsome features. "Quoi?"
Arms unfolded. "You like him."
"Oui, comme un ami." Resorting to the language he spoke when he was very embarrassed, Mattie looked away. His father laughed again, blue eyes sparkling. "Ohonhon, c'est vrai!"
"La ferme, it's not true. Anyway, he's n-not...I mean, I don't think he's…"
"You'll have to ask him." Straightening, Francis put an arm around Matthew. "Mais, Matthieu, please be careful around him. He is, after all, recovering."
"R-recovering? F-from what?"
"I cannot divulge that information, cher. But I can say he really would appreciate a friend right now."
"...He said I'd helped him, since we met. That I make him feel a bit better." Mattie bunched up his sleeves into his fists and pressed them between his face and Francis's chest as he leaned into him.
The Frenchman tutted as he rubbed one of Mattie's red cheeks with a soft thumb. "However did I raise such a cute son, hm? Come on, I bet Dad's made a really nice meal for us."
The engine purring smoothly under their bodies, Gilbert chewed his lip, refusing to look at his brother as he drove them home.
"I get a call from Francis telling me you were at his all along."
"Na ja, not all the time. I ran around the park first." Ludwig rolled his eyes as he turned the Volkswagen into a lane.
"Und why were you at your therapist's house?" Gilbert rested his chin on his bony knuckles, staring at passing buildings, all different shades of grey and brown. "Es ist nicht wichtig."
"Ja, es ist." When Gilbert still didn't answer him, Ludwig decided to focus on driving and carry the conversation on when they arrived home.
The door clicked shut. quick steps were heard as Gilbert attempted to make his escape to his room. "Guh!" He was yanked back by Ludwig pulling his Tee collar. "Oi, why did you run off heute?"
"My feet are cold, Bruder," Gilbert remarked, struggling.
"Das ist mir egal. Warum haben Sie laufen?" The albino's bright ruby eyes met the pale blue of his younger brother's. He's never had any fucking trouble with his appearance, other than too many Italians fighting over him.
"Don't you care about big brother's feet, Lud? I need them you know."
Ludwig maneuvered him to a wall, using his forearm to pin him. Gilbert winced, "Alright, alright! I-I was running from Feliciano." The blonde's attractive face scrunched with a frown. "Wieso?" Gilbert swallowed, feeling Ludwig's hold loosen. "..Ich….Ich küsste ihn."
"Was?" Ludwig didn't sound angry as he'd predicted, only shocked. Pushing him away gruffly, Gilbert stormed a few paces, his back to him. "I fucking kissed him alright! I didn't mean to, but….I couldn't, and he was so nett, und-"
"He didn't say anything about that," Mumbled Ludwig.
Gilbert's hands gripped his own hips. "Of course not, he's probably ashamed that he kissed me back!"
"He...he did?" Ludwig's voice was quiet behind him. Oh….I forgot. Whirling round, he said, "Jeez, why don't you just ask him out already?"
The buff blonde went crimson. "H-hey-! I-I've already said, I'm not-" He took a calming breath. "...Look, this is you we're talking about, not me. So you ran because you kissed Feli."
"Ja, but I found Mattie in the park," Gilbert pulled on some slippers as he spoke, "He invited me to his house, and I didn't know that Bonnefoy was his Vater."
"Mattie? Is he from your art classes?" Gilbert nodded.
"Do you like him?" Red eyes momentarily closed. "What do you mean by that."
"I mean, do you like him?" Ugh. Stupid meathead Bruder. "I don't know!" Gilbert admitted frustratedly, "I don't know what I feel. I mean, I thought I was straight! Today I find myself kissing a guy! I can't….understand this, it's….intangible." He wrapped his arms around himself. "Oh, and another thing. Bonnefoy said he-"
"I know, he told me. We'll just find you a new-"
"New therapist. Got it. Ludwig, I'm really tired." Pushing back his hair, Ludwig sighed. "Denn schlafen. I'm sorry for asking so many questions, I didn't want to bother you."
"It's ok, I know you're...you're just worried." I'm so sick of people worrying about me.
Thank you for reading, feel free to correct my foreign language snippets.
Translations:
Père - Father
Mon Dieu - My God
Mon cher - My dear
Quoi? - What?
Oui, comme un ami. - Yes, as a friend.
c'est vrai! - It's true!
La ferme - Shut up
Mais - But
Es ist nicht wichtig - It's not important
Ja, es ist. - Yes, it is.
Heute - Today
Das ist mir egal. Warum haben Sie laufen? - I don't care. Why did you run?
Wieso? - Why/How come?
..Ich….Ich küsste ihn. - ..I...I kissed him.
Denn schlafen. - Then sleep.