There's an awkward silence between the two, one that was never there before, and one that Mathew is almost thankful for. He's thankful because the silence means that they're looking at each other, gauging the other's reactions and expressions, testing the waters for what they can say. They're not acting on assumptions anymore. Watching his twin, Mathew is learning to see the flaws he refused to see before. Alfred makes a joke that isn't funny and laughs at it, a little too hard, helping himself to Matthew's fries even though he'd just declared himself stuffed, and Mathew thinks he knows why.
He thinks it's the same emotion that makes him close his mouth everytime he opens it, the same emotion that makes him crave sweets and makes him add too much sugar to his coffee. It's an almost tangible wariness and nervousness, a timidity he knows far too well. Matthew's learning to see bits of himself in Alfred, some of his own flaws, and he doesn't know if he likes it. But he does know that he likes this Alfred much better than the flawless brother he used to see. He wonders if Alfred sees his own flaws in Mathew too.
Finally, Mathew breaks the silence in a tired tone, and they repeat a conversation from what seems like forever ago.
"What is it, Al?"
Alfred takes the offered opportunity gratefully.
"How's Arthur been recently?"
This time, Mathew doesn't feel the same sting he used to feel whenever Alfred mentioned Arthur. He still feels a sting, but it's different this time, and so is his answer. He answers with a tiny frown.
"I don't know."
"You haven't spoken to him?"
Alfred returns, forehead creased. He looks concerned, but Mathew doesn't feel provoked by his concern anymore. There's an earnestness in their conversation that wasn't there before, and it's refreshing. That's why Matthew's able to admit the issue easier than he anticipated.
"Arthur said I should make my own choices."
Mathew doesn't fill in the next words. He doesn't think he has too. "But I don't know what to do." It's probably pathetic, Mathew knows, but it's true. Ever since he was a child, he's done what he was told. He listened to Arthur, and stood behind him when he was told to. Now, he's suddenly told to do it alone, and Mathew still feels like he's waiting for Arthur to provide the answer. Maybe that's why he's come to Alfred instead. Mathew knows that even though it's not intentional, he's waiting for Alfred to tell him what to do next, and he hates himself for it.
"So you don't want to be with Arthur?"
Alfred sounds confused, and he looks it too, and Mathew realizes he's fallen back into his habit of assuming that Alfred knows how he feels, that he feels the same. It hits Mathew again, the feeling of "Oh! We're different." It's not a feeling that Mathew is used to, and it leaves him feeling disconcerted, like he just got off one of the spinning rides at the amusement park. Mathew struggles to find the words to explain.
"That's not it..."
Alfred tilts his head questioningly, finishing off Matthew's fries, and the gap between them feels overpowering.
"Then what's the problem?"
Mathew opens his mouth to explain, but he's not quite sure how to. Not when Alfred is looking at him with wide and innocent eyes, waiting. His heart sinks. He can't tell Alfred he's scared, Alfred, who always go out and gets what he wants, wouldn't understand. Mathew is afraid Alfred will think he's foolish and weak. Apparently assuming Mathew isn't going to respond, Alfred presses on.
"I mean, it's not like you have to be afraid of rejection or anything."
Alfred's words makes Mathew feel like there are worms squirming in his veins, and he remembers what Alfred had told him. "You know that Arthur is in love with you, right?" But Alfred is naïve, and prone to jump to conclusions. Just like how Alfred was mistaken about him, Mathew knows his brother is mistaken about Arthur too. No, that's what he chooses to believe. Mathew doesn't want to let himself hope for something that unthinkable. Mathew knows that Alfred is watching his expressions change, and Alfred's mouth falls open as he stares at Mathew in disbelief.
"You seriously don't believe that, do you?"
There's a thousand things Mathew wants to say to that, ranging from gentle disagreement to downright rejection, and a thousand reasons Mathew can give for why he's right. Mathew doesn't say any of them. Alfred doesn't give him the chance. It's been harder for Mathew to read Alfred's expressions lately, harder to identify the emotions there, but this time at least, the emotion is clear to Mathew, though still puzzling. Alfred looks one hundred percent annoyed as he speaks.
"Mattie, for once in your life, do me a favour and listen to me. To be honest, you suck at reading people, and tend to just assume the worst, but just one time, I want you to take a good look at your relationship with Arthur without the pessimism!"
Alfred's outburst is so shockingly out of character for his brother that Mathew has to take a moment to register the shock of that before he registers the words. Then, the emotions hit, and Mathew can feel his face turning to stone, the words already on his lips. "What would you know?" But there's a tiredness behind the annoyance in Alfred's eyes, one Matthew's seen many times before when he look in the mirror, like a frayed thread only moments from snapping.
Once again, Matthew's struck with a deep fear that everything he suffered through over the years was pointless, or worse, brought upon himself. But this time, the fear brings with it another emotion, so unfamiliar that Mathew almost doesn't recognize it. Alfred is still watching him, tired and exasperated, and Mathew wonders if he really thinks Mathew will listen, or if Alfred's already given up on him, like so many times before. Mathew doesn't want Alfred to give up on him ever again.
"Okay," he breathes the words shakily, "Just once."
Alfred's expression changes, and Mathew quickly closes his eyes. He tries to think about the relationship between him and Arthur as though Alfred was never involved.
"Mathew!"
Arthur's drunk, it's apparent by the flush in his cheeks and the brightness in his eyes, and the slight slur in his voice as he calls out to Mathew, beckoning Mathew to join him. With slight trepidation, Mathew does. He's used to comforting Arthur during his drunken breakdowns, murmuring empty assurances that he isn't even sure Arthur hears in an attempt to pacify him, but things have changed recently. Arthur doesn't cry about Alfred anymore. Mathew thinks he might perfer that to what Arthur does instead.
Arthur pulls him down beside him and Mathew smiles weakly at him while he assesses the situation. Arthur stares right back at him with an expression Matthew's never seen on Arthur's face when he's sober. Then, unprompted, Arthur blurts out an apology.
"I'm sorry. " He says, reaching for Matthew's hand, and Mathew stiffens slightly as Arthur touches him. Arthur's eyes start turning wet.
"I'm sorry. I'm always taking you for granted, taking advantage of you, but you...you're always there for me. I'm sorry."
Arthur lays his head on his arm on the bar, but keeps his eyes fixed on Mathew, and like he's caught in a spell, Mathew can't look away. He's always wanted to hear these words, always wanted to see Arthur look at him, and only him, but now that it's happening, his skin is crawling with discomfort. Arthur traces circles on Matthew's stiff hand and continues in a voice that sounds close to tears.
"How could I treat you like that? Why didn't I notice sooner? Why... Why can I still not talk to you properly?"
Arthur's hand moves from Matthew's hand to his thigh, lightly brushing and loving, and Matthew's heart feels like it's dropped from his chest to his stomach at mach speed as he figures out what is going on. Arthur leans into him, eyes shining both from the drink and from the unshed tears, and Mathew gently slides Arthur's hand off his thigh, pushing a hand gently but sternly against Arthur's chest to create a distance between them. He can almost taste the bitter smile on his lips as he forces the gentle words out, nearly choking on them.
"Arthur, I'm not Alfred."
