Chapter 1

Matthew knew the approaching and heavy footsteps meant he was going to be forced out of bed soon. He held the blankets closer, believing for a moment that he could merge into his mattress and back into his short-lived rest. The door busted open, bounced off the wall, and he inwardly sighed, knowing the obnoxious behavior could belong to only one person.

"Mattie! Mattie!"

The blankets and their warmth ripped from his body. Matthew lazily flailed his hand in their direction, "Stop, five minutes."

"You said that five minutes ago! You're gonna be late for school!"

Matthew was not fazed, nuzzling his cheek into his pillow, and dealt without his covers. A dramatic sigh sounded from behind him, and the blankets fell onto his body. Footsteps faded away, so he smiled and took hold of the covers without opening his eyes.

He was about to drift off again when his brother returned. Suddenly, the waist line of his pajama pants pulled from his lower back, and he immediately reacted when something cold and wet slid down his legs. With a yell of shock, Matthew leaped off his bed, kicking and dancing until ice cubes fell from the bottom of his pants.

His brother threw back his head and cackled, so Matthew swooped down to chuck an ice cube at him. The other blond squeaked and flinched, still snickering, "Come on, Mattie, if Dad finds out we got another tardy, he's going to dump a whole tray of ice down your boxers!"

"Great," Matthew sighed, bending down to rub the cold spots on his legs. "Like you just didn't do that."

"Cheer up, my dude!" His brother was too loud too early in the morning. "It's Friday!"

"I know that, Alfred, but there's one day left that we have to go through until the weekend."

Used to the horrors of Matthew in his freshly-conscious moments, Alfred spun around and sauntered out of the room without acknowledging his brother's grumpiness. "By the way, we're out of milk..."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

"For this assignment, I want you to be working with a partner."

Matthew had been deceived; the last year of high school was supposed to be the best one. It was almost the end of the second semester, the middle of the winter. Cold. Windy. Snow was all right. Ice was terrible. School was worse.

Waking up before the sun rises to do seemingly pointless assignments and listen to hundreds of other students yapping their heads off about the latest gossip? No, thanks, a million times over.

However, most of the time, Matthew was bitter only on weekdays. The week could have been simplified to getting woken up, go to school, go to work on some days, then cram in homework before passing out, and doing it all over again. Eat, sleep, school, homework, eat, sleep, school, he would monologue to himself, and Alfred would laugh whenever he caught him doing it. At least on the weekends, they could sleep in and get some fresh air!

Matthew's first period classmates exchanged grins that were too bright and mischievous for the time of the morning, more excited than he was at the prospect to fool around during class. A sheet of paper fluttered underneath his head, and he slowly straightened with a light, embarrassed grunt to look at the foreboding words. Matthew scrunched his eyebrows together. There was no need for partners for this paper. After squirming against his butt-numbing chair, he grabbed a pencil to scribble his name at the top of the sheet. A hand rapped on the desk, and he looked up in surprise.

The teacher frowned, "With partners, Mr. Bonnefoy, or a group of three if there are no others."

"I-I was going to! I was just..." The teacher already made her way back to her desk. He glanced around the white walls, white floors, to his classmates bunching together with their friends. A heavy weight sank in his stomach, knowing that he would just do his work on his own as the others blabbered, and then, they would copy off his sheet.

Everything clumped together into this mundane ball, and Matthew wanted to toss it out the window.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

The whole school day was not completely filled with suffering. Lunch proved this. Lunch was a wonderful break from the lectures, not to eat (since Matthew refused to take a gamble on his health to touch the school's lunches), but to kick his feet up and space off without getting scolded by a teacher for doing so. Alfred stuffed himself with whatever he could find.

Just two brothers, relaxing by the wall of windows overlooking the back parking lot - equally bland and uneventful as far as the building went. Another plus; Alfred. They did not share any other periods besides a science class at the end of the day, so Matthew found comfort in adding his unneeded acknowledgement to Alfred's exaggerated stories, and enjoyed encouraging him to tip entire sides of tater tots into his mouth.

"You gonna eat that?" Alfred asked, not specifying what exactly of Matthew's lunch he had eyes for.

Matthew pushed his nearly untouched tray across the table, and Alfred proceeded to engulf anything on that, too. It was an interesting phenomenon. "You okay, bro?" Bits of something that passed as a cheeseburger landed on the table. "You seem sad."

"Oh, do I? Whoops." Guiding a pile of napkins in his direction, Matthew shook his head, "It's the same thing, different day, Alfred."

His brother smiled, broadcasting what was in his mouth. "That's school for you!"

"I'm thinking of joining the field hockey team this upcoming semester."

Alfred choked a bit, and hit his chest with a fist. He asked before he could even breathe, "What? Why?"

Matthew shrugged, "I have been thinking about it for a while. Anything else to do around here. Hockey's cool."

"Don't you have a job at the library, too?"

"Bookstore, and not until six. I would have an hour between the two."

"Mattie!" His brother groaned. "I'm gonna be all alone at the house!"

"Why don't you invite your buddies over?" As soon as the suggestion was out of his mouth, Matthew regretted it. The last time his brother's friends came over to 'do homework,' they stayed up until one o'clock the next morning, draining anything worth eating/drinking from the fridge and scattering all kinds of wrappers all over the house. He wound up finding a squished cupcake in the couch cushions several days later.

Alfred brightened for a moment, before going back to chew on his burger. "You know how Dad is about having people over when he's away. He'll like, walk in the house, and know we had people over. It's kind of weird."

"Weird. Hey, why don't you find a job? It's not so bad. You wouldn't have to rely on Dad's royalty checks all the time. Have some leftover money for the weekend. Snacks, too. I think the quick market is hiring."

"Ugh, as a cashier though?" Alfred coughed on his cud, "What good am I going to do at a mini-mart?"

"You can help people buy food, Al. We need milk, too, so you should look for a position while you pick up a gallon."

"Sure, man. Whatever you say."

Matthew's eyes flickered toward the wall of windows keeping the students from fresh air, but the skies didn't look too happy at the moment. "Don't forget your umbrella."

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

Tryouts for the new semester were canceled due to the impending weather, so as soon as the dismissing bell rang, and once free from the prongs of teenagers ambling toward the exits, Matthew streaked down the town's sidewalks with his book bag over his head. It proved pointless, however, since the clouds released all their might onto their small town, and he was soaked to the bone by the time he reached the front porch of his house.

After a thorough drying, Matthew checked his phone in small hopes of being called off from working that night, but no messages from anybody. He still had two hours to kill before work started, so instead of doing homework, he snuggled with a blanket on the living room couch, and flicked on the television.

Nothing of interest showed up, until the screen flashed over the current soap opera. Words zoomed across the TV and news reporters spoke a bit too fast and over one another, but Matthew caught that there was a flood warning in effect. There have been several motor accidents, and cameramen showed people busting out their canoes just to cross the street. Everyone was warned to stay inside if possible.

"I hope Al gets home soon," Matthew murmured aloud. His cell phone buzzed, and he scrambled to grab it.

Matthew had hoped to read a sloppy message from his brother, but instead the alert came from his boss, telling him that he did not have to come in that night. He sighed, somewhat in relief, but somewhat irked, too. Alfred always said he was a worry-wart.

The house phone rung. Matthew groaned from all the noise, and shoved away from the couch. "Okay, okay, I'm coming!"

The phone switched to voicemail as soon as he grabbed it. "Hello? Hello!"

After the 'leave your message after the beep' ordeal, a woman droned from the other line, "Is this the Bonnefoy household?"

Matthew rolled his eyes and muted the television. Only solicitors or the rare occurrence of his father's old lovers checking in used the house number. "Yes, it is."

"Is there a Francis I could speak to?"

"He's overseas at the moment."

"Is this his son, Matthew Bonnefoy?"

Matthew tried to keep his tone polite, "Yes, but if this is a telemarketer, we are not interested-"

"I am sorry, Matthew. This is Saint's Medical Center. We have your brother, Alfred, in our care, but we need someone to stop by and confirm-"

Matthew was running into the rain before the lady could finish.