Matthew hated airports. Crowded and noisy, so many strangers rushing around, weaving, talking on phones, arguing, sometimes lost or looking for scattered children. It was a whirl of chaos that Matt ghosted through. With a backpack and a small suitcase for carry-on luggage, the blond followed the signs to his gate and stepped into line to pass through security. It wasn't going to be quite the same as going through the airport back home—he'd certainly overheard ruder people here than there.

Like those ahead of him, he took off his shoes and emptied his pockets into a tray. His bags were added to the conveyor belt and passed through the machine to be checked for dangerous items or substances. He had none, but he still felt an irrational spike of nervous worry as he stepped through the sensors. Nothing happened—at the end of the line he retrieved his shoes and bags and began to follow the signs once more.

Along with countless others, the Canadian found himself a seat and settled in to wait. It would be a while before it would be time to board the plane that was going to take him home, but he didn't mind. After all the stress of his first college finals, the trip home was going to be a vacation in itself. He'd always wanted to fly while growing up and was looking forward to doing it for a second time.

Zzz…zzz…

Buzzing against his stomach led Matt to pull his phone out of his hoody pocket, the screen announcing that he had a new message from Francis.

Have a safe flight, cher, et a wonderful Christmas break. Tu me manqué deja.

It was a sweet little message that put a smile on the shy blond's face.

Miss you, too. Happy Christmas!

With nothing more to say than that, he tucked the phone away again and relaxed more fully in his chair. He sort of wanted to take a nap but he was worried he'd miss his flight if he didn't pay enough attention to the announcements coming from the speakers overhead. This being the case, he forced himself to stay awake with the promise that he would spend the entire flight to Vancouver with his eyes closed. There was nothing like going home for break and arriving there well-rested, which was the opposite of when he'd arrived in America.

X

They were waiting on the front porch, and stood when the car pulled into the drive. She was smiling, he was not—he had the same hard, stoic expression that he always had. Even though the sight of them didn't draw any words from Gilbert, Ludwig glanced at his older brother as he shut off the car.

"Come on."

Moving at the same time, blond and albino left the car and approached the house. As always, Gilbert went to his mother first and hugger as his father and brother shook hands.

"Willkommen zu Hause." Her words were soft and sincere, helping to soothe the agitation Gilbert had already started to feel just from the proximity to his vater. It was another moment or two before she released him, and he stepped back to trade places with Ludwig. Frozen eyes stared at him, a large hand extended.

Fearless, Gilbert took the hand and shook firmly. "Hallo, vater."

"Hallo."

The handshake was almost a fight in itself. They didn't squeeze, weren't trying to hurt each other, but neither was willing to be the first to let go or the first to look away. Gilbert thought the man had positioned himself perfectly, at the top of the steps so his sons, despite being just as tall, were forced to look up to meet his gaze.

Arrogant bastard.

It annoyed him but Gilbert didn't let it show on his face. His expression matched his father's almost perfectly, chin up and shoulders squared. If he didn't make a stand for himself now, the next two weeks would be hell.

"Come inside," his mother interrupted in her gentle tones, and Gilbert made sure to take his hand away before his father did, though not too quickly.

"We'll get your bags after dinner." She led the way inside, followed by her husband, then Ludwig then Gilbert.

Winter break had officially begun.

X

Both bags in hand, Matthew followed along the crowd leaving the plane and exited the terminal. When he'd first gone to America, his father had been waiting for him with a wide smile and spine-snapping hug. It had surprised him, considering he'd barely even talked to the ma on the phone before, much less touched or seen him, but nice, he supposed. Here, though, there was no one to greet him.

He left the airport quickly but without hurry, and crossed a wide open space to a large shed. There was a huge garage door taking up the majority of one wall, and a smaller, regular door set next to it. When he reached the smaller door, Matthew knocked twice then waited. It opened a few moments later and a familiar bearded man leaned out into the cold.

"Yes?"

Is the single passenger plane still scheduled to fly to Whistler today?"

"Ah!" The brown eyes brightened and the man stepped back out of the doorway. "Matt! Almost didn't recognize you! How ya been?"

Smiling, Matthew followed him into the shed. "I'm all right, It's good to be home."

"America's treating you well, eh? That's good, that's good." The man sort of mumbled to himself at the end but Matthew didn't really notice. Everyone knew Captain Jimmy was a little odd but he was a good pilot and Matt trusted him to fly his little plane without incident.

For as large as the shed was, there wasn't much stored there. Jimmy's plane, a fridge and microwave next to a crude-looking sink, a table with a couple chairs, and a cot in the corner next to a space heater along with a stack of thick blankets nearby was it. A door led to what was probably a small bathroom.

"What time are we leaving?"

"Soon as I finish my stew." Those all you got?" Jimmy pointed at the small bags Matthew had, and the blond nodded.

"This is it."

"All right. Give me a few minutes. You hungry?"

"Oh, no, I'm all right. Dinner's waiting for me at home."

Jimmy shrugged and sat at his little table to finish the stew Matthew seemed to have interrupted. It only took him a few minutes to empty the bowl, and once he'd cleared his dishes to the sink, he smiled at Matthew.

"Let's go!"

His bags were stored behind the passenger seat, strapped in so they wouldn't slide around during the flight if they hit any turbulence. Then Matthew settled in his seat and fastened the buckles, making sure they were snug and secure. Captain Jimmy gave him a pair of thick headphones to protect his ears and so they could communicate, and then he waited in the plane as the garage door was opened. A second man appeared from somewhere, maybe from the main airport, and closed the shed after Jimmy drove the plane out into the open. There wasn't much wind, luckily, but it still made Matthew feel better that there was someone to signal them as they took off.

A dull roar filled the air as they taxied down the runway, which quickly grew as their speed increased. In only a few minutes, Jimmy pulled back on his controls and the plane's nose tipped up—they were airborne. Even though it was smaller and rockier and a little bit cramped, Matt preferred Jimmy's little plane to the large commercial one he'd used to cross the border. The view from his tiny window had been that of an icy blue sky and the horizon of fluffy white clouds that looked like melted marshmallow or whipped cream or maybe a vanilla milkshake, sometimes rolling like waves or jagged like countless miniature mountains. That had been pretty, and he'd enjoyed the ice crystals that built up on the outer layer of Plexiglas, too. It was an amazing sight and he'd spent a little more time looking at it than he should have, since it meant he didn't get as much sleep as he'd decided to get. Still, this smaller plane wouldn't pass the clouds during the short flight to Matthew's home. Well, the town near his home, where there was a tiny airport. From there, it would take a snowmobile or an all-terrain truck to make it up the mountain to his mother's house.

"Storm tonight, but we'll beat it if we make good time," Jimmy informed him via the headphones, and Matthew nodded without taking his gaze away from the window. Not clouds, but the Canadian landscape, had caught his eye. The city was sprawled out below them, quickly giving way to housing areas and then the countryside. Trees, the occasional house, wide open fields all covered in snow and pristine white. It was beautiful, and it almost surprised Matthew at the swelling feeling in his heart as he looked at it. He'd been more homesick than he realized, and now he was back.

Home.

X

"How's Feliciano doing, Ludvig?"

Glancing at his mother, the blond finished chewing his food and swallowed before answering. "He's good. He und his bruder went home for break, as well, all zhe vay to Italy to visit zheir grandfazher."

"Christmas in Italy sounds lovely, doesn't it?" She was smiling still, eyes as kind as ever as she looked at her younger son.

"Ja, it does."

"You'll have to bring him to visit again in zhe spring."

Ludwig was nodding when his father spoke up for the first time since saying Grace.

"Vhat about you, Gilbert?"

Surprised to be addressed without having said or done anything first, the albino looked at his father in mild confusion. "Vhat about me?"

"Is zhere somevone you vant to bring home to meet us?" The man's expression was innocently curious but Gilbert still didn't trust it one bit. This was a trap. There was no way this could end well.

"Nein, zhere's no vone." It wasn't really the truth but Gilbert didn't feel like telling his father about the screwed up mess he'd made out of his friendship with Matthew, not to mention the fact that the blond was dating Francis, and his parents knew something had gone on with the Frenchman. His feelings and the situation he was in weren't topics he wanted to discuss over dinner, not with the man sitting at the head of the table.

"My son's too handsome to stay single so long," his mother lamented humorously, looking at him with wide, falsely sad eyes.

"He didn't," Ludwig spoke up, earning a warning glare from his older brother. "Gil likes somevone."

Don't say anozher vord, Lud, Gilbert threatened the blond in his thoughts, mortified that his parents might learn about Matthew.

The words made their mother perk up and she smiled at her first son despite the way Gilbert was staring across the table at Ludwig. "Really? Who? Are zhey smart? Are you going to bring zhem home to meet us?"

"Nein, Mozher, he—" the albino started to protest but stopped when the sound of his father muttering under his breath caught his attention.

"She. Vone gay son is enough."

Gilbert almost didn't catch his father's words, but his head turned sharply to look at the man. He couldn't believe his ears but he'd known it would be this way, hadn't he?

"Vhat," the college student began, speaking louder than was necessary and making his brother and mother stare at him, "Ludvig can fuck anyvone he vants but I better not dare to like a boy?"

"Gilbert!" his mother gasped, shocked at his language. In contrast, his father set down his silverware and met his son's red-eyed gaze.

"You vill not speak zhat vay at dinner, Gilbert."

"I can't speak at all!" His temper flaring, Gilbert rose from his chair and slammed his palms down against the polished wood of the table. "Anyzhing I do is wrong and Ludvig couldn't fuck up if he vanted to! He's your favorite! Admit it! You love him more zhan me!"

"Your bruder has nozhing to do vizh my opinion of you."

"Liar! You liked me just fine before he vas born! It vasn't until you had a perfect normal son zhat I vasn't good enough anymore! I remember!"

"Gilbert, please calm down," his mother pleaded softly, one hand extended towards the white-haired boy. Too angry even to meet her gaze, Gilbert huffed and shoved his hands into his pockets. Normally, he would have stormed outside to have a smoke and calm down, but he was still getting over his nicotine addiction and Ludwig hadn't been letting him buy cigarettes.

"Apologize to your mozher, und sit down. I don't vant to hear anozher vord out of you for zhe rest of zhe night."

Talking to me like I'm a child.

Hiding his disgust at the older man, Gilbert slowed his breathing and lifted his chin. "Nein. I von't sit here so you can judge me." Before another word could be said, he pushed in his chair and left the dining room, straight past the kitchen and out the front door. Freezing winter air hit his face and arms, making him tense, but he didn't go back inside for a coat. No way was he going back inside so soon after leaving like that.

Still, the cold made him start to shiver within moments, and his teeth were chattering violently like a jackhammer. Fuck it was cold, but not enough to calm him down. This cold just made him pace to keep his blood flowing, had him muttering under his breath.

The bang of the screen door shutting alerted him to the fact that he was no longer alone but Gilbert barely took the time to glance at the porch. Ludwig had followed him, just like last time.

"Mozher isn't happy."

"Neizher am I."

"Fazher vants to speak vizh you."

Gilbert snorted derisively before he could stop himself. "I don't vant to speak vizh him."

"Gilbert," the blond sighed, and his brother rounded on him.

"You know I'm right," the albino cut him off, eyebrows raised at he stared at his younger brother. "You know he treats me like a disease that's infected his perfect life. He vishes I vas never born."

"Zhat's not true."

"Nein? Zhen vhy does he act like I'm somezhing to be kicked under zhe rug? You can bring home Feli und zhey love him. He charmed his vay into zheir hearts und Fazher vill never say a vord against him. But if I brought Matt, if I brought home any boy, he vould insult me in front of zhem. He vould not velcome zhem into his home. Zhat's vhat he said—'vone gay son is enough'—zhat's vhy I left."

"He just vants grandkids, Gil," Ludwig tried to reason with the furious boy only to receive a withering look for his efforts.

"Zhen vhy doesn't he get you to have zhem?" Gilbert turned away from the younger male and tilted his head back to look at the sky. Dark clouds—no stars. Not a calming view. "He doesn't zhink I'd make a good vater. He probably has nightmares about me giving him demon grandchildren. Little boys und girls vizh vhite hair und red eyes, pale und small. Vhy vould he vant zhem any more zhan he vants me? He doesn't vant me to have kids. He vants little blue-eyed, blond German babies, vants athletic boys und strong, independent girls."

Something caught in his throat and Gilbert fell silent, struggling to swallow past the painful lump. Fuck. No, he didn't want to get all emotional right now. He was an adult, he could handle this, his emotions would not get the better of him. This was not the time. He was angry. Furious. Enraged.

But he couldn't stop himself when he started to cry.

"Sh-shit," the white-haired male muttered, wiping at his eyes and feeling the wetness of tears on the back of his hand.

"Gilbert."

"Vhat?" he almost snapped at the younger boy, embarrassed to be caught crying over something as stupid as a fight with his father.

Without a word, Ludwig stepped down off the porch and hugged his brother tightly.

"L-let go," Gilbert demanded, though there was no force in his tone, no bite or edge, so Ludwig ignored him until the albino let out a shaky breath and wrapped his arms around his brother. They stayed like that for a long while, until Gilbert managed to steady his breathing and relaxed in the younger male's hold.

"Was auch immer Vater denkt, du bist mein Bruder und Ich liebe dich. Lassen Sie ihn nicht machen Sie sich in jemanden bist du nicht."

It was probably one of the most encouraging things Gilbert had ever heard in his life, especially coming from his brother. He nodded, then squeezed the blond a little tighter.

"Danke."

"Gern geschehen."

Another several moments passed before the front door quietly opened then closed again, but they didn't react to it.

"Boys," the soft voice of their mother called out to them. Together, they released each other and turned to face her.

"Es tut mir leid," Gilbert spoke first, "for my outburst. It vas rude to ruin dinner."

She smiled warmly. "You're not zhe only vone who's to blame. Ludvig, please go inside und help your vater clean up from dinner."

"Ja." Obediently, Ludwig went inside, leaving Gilbert alone with their mother.

Quiet, she sat on the front step and patted the spot next to her until her son sat, smiling gently, and wrapped her arm around his shoulders when he did. Neither of them said a word as Gilbert leaned against her, his throat still a little tight and his nose thick from crying.

It was already dark outside, the streetlamps bright and reflecting off the snow that covered their yard and the yards of their neighbors. Windows were lit in the other houses, occasionally showing the shadow of someone pass by. Gilbert and his mother watched the quiet existence of the neighborhood, coatless despite the cold but not shivering because of the warmth of each other.

"Verzeihen Sie," the albino mumbled again after some time, and she smiled and kissed his forehead.

"Ich liebe dich, und so hat Ihr Vater. Geben Sie ihm eine Chance, um zu kommen."

As much as he didn't want to believe that and didn't want to give the man time to come around, Gilbert nodded and rested his head on her shoulder. "Ja, Mutter."

X

It was dark by the time Captain Jimmy landed his small plane in [town]'s tiny airfield, but under one of the yard lights was a familiar old truck, its headlights on and fumes coming out of the exhaust pipe as the engine ran to keep the figure inside warm.

"Thank you!" Smiling, Matthew shook Jimmy's hand then picked up his two bags.

"Merry Christmas!"

Head bowed, the blond half jogged across the space between the plane and the truck. The door opened from the inside as he got close and he hurried to push his bags behind the front seat before climbing in and shutting the door against the cold. Immediately, he turned and hugged the woman in the driver's seat.

"Mom."

Arms wrapped around him, strong and comforting. "Hi, honey."

It was good to be home.

(ROUGH) TRANSLATIONS:

Willkommen zu Hause.

Welcome home.

Was auch immer Vater denkt, du bist mein Bruder und Ich liebe dich. Lassen Sie ihn nicht machen Sie sich in jemanden bist du nicht.

Whatever Father thinks, you're my brother and I love you. Don't let him make you into someone you're not.

Es tut mir leid.

I'm sorry.

Verzeihen Sie.

Sorry.

Ich liebe dich, und so hat Ihr Vater. Geben Sie ihm eine Chance, um zu kommen.

I love you, and so does your father. Give him a chance to come around.