Alfred drags Mathew and all but throws him into the shower, but he doesn't leave. Instead, he sits the close toilet lid and chats with Mathew. Its all small, nonsensical things. The game he played with his brother Kyle, what burger he got last time he ate out, that time he sprained his ankle stepping of the curb. Mathew's never been so grateful for the smalltalk, a chance to think about something light instead of all the heavy thoughts. It's not til he's done showering and brushing his teeth, spitting the rest of his toothpaste down the sink, that he finally asks Alfred the question that's bugging him.
"Hey Al?"
He interupts Alfred's rant about skim milk, and Alfred instantly shuts up. Mathew knows from that alone that Alfred had been waiting for Mathew to ask. Still, the words are hard to get out, and they come out as a whisper.
"What if I messed up?"
Alfred cocks his head, but doesn't ask Mathew to elaborate, and Mathew knows that Alfred already knows what he means. Alfred looks like he's debating something, the beckons Mathew closer with the air of one about to tell a secret.
"Arthur threatened me not to tell anyone."
He leans closer as he speaks. Mathew's eyes widen at the words, and his heart starts to soar as though it never hurt in the first place.
"Arthur cried himself to sleep for weeks after Francis left."
Mathew starts to smile in a way he hasn't smiled in a long time, and Alfred, apparently satisfied, takes his turn in the shower. Mathew thinks that maybe, this time at least, he did something right. The smile doesn't fade, and he's still wearing it even after Alfred starts singing in the shower and Mathew escapes.
Gilbert is waiting outside the bedroom door. Mathew can see the way his eyes fill with relief at the sight of Mathew's smile, and Gilbert looks like he's struggling to find the words to speak. Mathew suddenly feels guilty. He realizes that he's worried everyone, and he knows that if Gilbert looks this upset then his sisters must be worried too. The smile fades. Gilbert makes up his mind on what to say, roughly ruffling Mathew's hair as he speaks.
"You did good, kid."
Mathew knows he's talking about the decision to bring Arthur here, and even though Alfred's already reassured him, he welcomes Gilbert's reassurance as well. Gilbert dropps his hand but continues in a carefully casual tone.
"Francis is definitely gonna get better, so you don't need to worry anymore."
Gilbert smiles in a way that Mathew knows isn't natural, but he doesn't mind. It feels different that the empty smile Francis makes, and more like a smile made to face an awkward situation. Gilbert coughs a little, and turns as though to go, but says one more thing before he does, squaring his shoulders.
"Even the awesome me needs help sometimes. Its not shameful to ask for help."
Then he quickly strides off as though he's embarrassed. Mathew understands what Gilbert is saying. He wasn't mad at Mathew last night because Francis hadn't gotten better. He was upset that Mathew hadn't called them sooner. With this thought comes a shocking understanding. Everytime more people came to help, Francis got better. It wasnt that Mathew wasn't good enough, Francis just needed his family. Mathew suddenly feels very dumb. Gilbert was right. He should have called someone sooner.
When he follows Gilbert into the dinning room, Arthur is helping Antonio clear the last of the dishes off the table. Lucille is wrapping up a plate of food and Mathew knows its for Francis, but he barely has time to take in any of this before Michelle is in front of him, studying his face with concern.
"Are you okay?"
Mathew thinks about Alfred's words, and he smiles as he answers, and is surprised at how strong and confident he sounds when he responds.
"Yes. I'm fine."
Michelle beams in response, then punches him in the arm.
"Ow!"
"Tell us if you're not feeling well, you absolute crétin!"
She demands and Mathew winces as he rubs the spot she punched. Despite Michelle's actions, she seems to be lighting up herself, her eyes almost glowing at Mathew's face. Mathew's smile widens just a little.
"Sorry."
Lucille puts the dish away and smacks his arm lightly as she passes by.
"i worked hard to make that food, you know."
Lucille's eyes are shinning too as she scolds, as though Mathew's smile is infectious. Mathew repeats his apology, not just to her, but to Antonio and Gilbert too, all at once. Gilbert grins in a way that looks more like a smirk and makes Mathew want to punch him for no reason, and Antonio winks at him with a grin.
Michelle tugs on his arm and pulls him to side with a serious expression, out of view of the others, and turns to Mathew scoldingly.
"There's still someone else to apologize to."
Mathew freezes. He already knows who she means, and he realizes that he hadn't seen Arthur with the others. Mathew guiltily meets Michelles eyes, nad she frowns deeper.
"What did you say to dad?"
Mathew flushes with shame at the memory, and looks away. He doesn't want Michelle to know what he said.
"I got a little upset."
Michelle looks like she wants to scold him further, and Mathew knows why. Mathew doesn't get mad very often, he's proud of that, but his whole family knows that there's a drawback to this. When Mathew gets mad, he snaps, and even Mathew knows he's gone too far this time. He doesn't wait for Michelle to scold him further.
"I'll go talk to him."
Artur is out in the garden, still wet with dew, staring forlornly at the rosebush in a way that makes Mathew's heart hurt. Arthur doesn't acknowledged Mathew's presence, but his face stiffens when Mathew speaks.
"Dad."
Arthur flinches ever so slightly.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said those things."
It's a weak excuse for an apology, Mathew knows. He knows that Arthur also understands. I'm sorry for what I said, but not for how I felt. Even to Mathew it doesn't feel like a real apology, but the type Alfred and he would say when Arthur made them apologize to each other when they were young. "I'm sorry you got mad." "I'm sorry you thought I meant that." Not an actual apology, but a hidden accusation used for show to get them out of whatever trouble they were in. Arthur never did notice.
"You were right though."
He accepts Mathew's apology with a bitter smile, but Arthur doesn't offer his forgiveness. Mathew almost prefers it this way. Its better for Arthur to hold a grudge if he's hurt than to instantly accept it. Its enough that Arthur is admitting he was wrong, even if his tone and smile is bitter. The fact Arthur is even admitting he was wrong tells Mathew that Arthur is shaken.
Mathew's still frustrated, there's still things he wants to say, things he wants to make Arthur realize, but he's afraid that he wont say it right. He takes after his father too much in the way that his words come out. Arthur is still staring at the roses, almost studiously. Francis used to get roses for Arthur all the time when they were together. Mathew reaches for a rose, placing his fingers carefully in the way Francis had taught him years ago.
"It's like your father,"
Francis had said, his eyes glowing as he confided in Mathew.
"He's beautiful and sweet, but in order to own the rose you have to be careful to avoid the thorns."
Mathew twists the stem and it breaks, and the rose comes of in his hand. He spins it in his palm, trying to still his nerves, and casts a sidelong look at Arthur. For the first time Mathew realizes Arthur's eyes are darker too, not anywhere close to Francis', but still dimmed.
Mathew wonders if that's his fault too.
