Arthur's gaze is rested on the rose in Mathew's hand, and Mathew remembers how Arthur's eyes used to light up when Francis would give him a flower. Arthur would bluster that he didn't want it, and would Francis please stop destroying his garden? But in the end, the rose would be placed into a vase in the middle of the kitchen table, and despite Arthur's mask of indifference, it was no secret among the kids how his eyes glowed everytime they fell upon the rose. Mathew wants to see Arthur's face glow in the way it used too, almost as much as he wants Francis' eyes to shine again, as much as he wants to see his Papa's beam again.
Mathew twists the rose again in his hand. Its pink, not red like the ones Francis used to get Arthur.
"Red for love."
Mathew's heart is aching worse now and all he can think about is his words last night. How had Arthur looked when he said those words? Mathew is glad he didn't see. He isn't sure he could handle the guilt if he had.
"I.."
Mathew struggles with the words, but he's not just Arthur's son. He's Francis' child too, and Francis always loved to tell Arthur how much he meant to him. Mathew tries to channel his inner Francis as he speaks.
"I love you, Dad."
For the first time since Mathew visited Arthur at his home, Arthur turns and meets Mathew's eyes directly. Mathew flushes, but he's not sure why. He's not saying something embarrassing or dirty. He forces himself not to look away as he holds out the rose to Arthur.
"I could never hate you. I'm sorry."
Mathew's being sincere, and he wonders if Arthur can hear it in his voice, as Arthur's gaze wavers between the rose and Mathew's face with an expression that Mathew can't read. Arthur's lips twist in a way that's almost a smile, but falls more into the category of a grimace as he accepts the flower. Arthur shakes his head and speaks in a tone so full of emotion Mathew cant read any of them.
"You really are his son."
There's something bitter about those words that rubs Mathew the wrong way. Arthur had spoken in the same way when he and Francis split up, and though he were drawing a line between the children. As though they were fighting a war and Mathew wasn't on Arthur's side. The words make Mathew swell up with bitterness again, and the words escape before he can stop them.
"I'm your son too."
Arthur jerks his head back up with a look of surprise, and Mathew tries to pretend he didn't say anything. He reminds himself this isn't about him, is about Francis. The memory of Francis' darkened eyes makes the edges of Mathew's lips pull down. Arthur notices, and shakes his head, but the smile looks closer to a real smile and less like a grimace now. Mathew almost doesn't hear Arthur's voice as he turns to go inside.
"That's certainly true."
Mathew feels his own eyes widen, and chases after Arthur inside, but he barely enters the parlour before he freezes. There's a familiar man with tired and dimmed eyes talking to Alfred, and Mathew thinks he's never seen him look so empty. Arthur hesitates for a moment too, and when Mathew looks at him, he thinks that Arthur almost looks scared, but just as quickly the look melts into something else that Mathew identifies as irritation. Then Arthur takes a few more steps into the room, throwing his shoulders back. Alfred notices and stops talking, staring wide-eyed.
Then, in a moment too fast to be relished, Francis turns to see what Alfred is staring at, and Alfred takes several steps backwards. Everyone in the room stops talking and watches with wide, apprehensive eyes.
For a moment, Francis and Arthur just stare at each other. Then, Francis falters, and Antonio steps forwards and catches Francis' elbow to support him as Francis brings a shaking hand up to cover his eyes.
" 'ow could this be?"
Francis' voice shakes as he speaks, both despair and wonder colouring his tone.
"Is this 'eaven?"
The ethereal mood is ruined by Alfred's snicker, and everyone in the room gives him the evil eye, including Arthur, and Alfred shuts up. Arthur isn't in the mood to play along with Francis' drama, and Mathew isn't surprised when Arthur responds by crossing the room and smacking Francis upside the head.
"Bloody stupid Frog!"
Arthur scolds sharply, and Francis flinches.
"What the bloody hell are you doing, worrying your family like this?"
Arthur's sharp, no nonsense tone is unmistakably angry as he spits those words, but his face contrasts the sentiment, twisted in a strange way as though he's only moments from crying. Francis drops his hand in shock, staring wildly at the man who hit him.
"Mon dieu."
Barely a breath of an exclamation, and Arthur's brows crease further.
"Its really you."
Francis stares at Arthur as though to commit him to memory, as though he might disappear if he blinks. Arthur remains unimpressed.
"Don't try to change the subject, you asshat."
Alfred's shoulders shake, and Mathew knows he's holding back his snickers, but this time, he doesn't really care. In fact, Mathew can feel his own face splitting and widening into a grin of his own. Arthur hasn't changed, not even after all these years, and somehow, Mathew finds that are glittering in the corner of Francis' eyes, and all Mathew can think is that Francis' eyes are shinning again, not quite in the way they used to, but there's a light there that was missing before.
Arthur stands with his arms crossed, looking rather petulant, and the scene is so discordant, so familiar, that Mathew has to hid his grin in his sleeve. Anyone watching might think they are reacting to completely different situations. Francis, as though he has just found out his lover wasn't dead. Arthur, as if he is a child who isn't getting his way. Its perfect. Mathew isn't sure how he'd feel if Arthur had teared up clung to Francis and begged him to stay. This Arthur, gruff, unfriendly, tsundere Arthur, is better. This is the Arthur that Mathew knows. This is the Arthur Francis loves.
Francis weakly wipes the tears from his eyes, and offers, hesitantly, a hint of a joke that his old self loved to tell.
"I guess you could not resist 'ow sexy I am."
Arthur scowls deeper, uncrossing his arms and pinching Francis by the ear.
"We need to talk. Come with me."
Antonio nods approvingly as Arthur drags Francis off by the ear. Alfred cheers. Its a long time until Arthur and Francis reappear, both looking suspiciously like they had been crying, although both had their faces washed, and hair and clothes tidied. Arthur doesn't say anything to the waiting family, only pushes by roughly muttering something about tea, but Michelle lights up, beaming like its Christmas, and catches Mathew's eye across the the room. She waits till Mathew nudges Alfred for attention, and Lucille notices the tension, before descreetly tapping the third finger on her right hand. The ring finger.
Its impossible, Mathew knows there's no way, he distinctly remembers Arthur flinging that ring as hard as he could into a pond, but when Arthur returns with a cup of tea, the ring is there, glittering on his ring finger, simple and golden.
