Chapter 4

"Shit!"

Alfred dropped his cane into the grass, streaked across the front lawn, up the porch, and slammed into the door as he clawed at the knob. An awful screeching from the smoke alarms erupted once he managed to slug it open, while Matthew hung on the sidewalk, gaping at the dark cloud emitting from one of the kitchen windows. The smoke was horrendous and there was no way in Hell he wanted to go near it.

His brother moved around the smoke pouring out of the kitchen to throw open the other downstairs windows. He coughed, swishing his arm in front of his face as he stuck his body out of one, "Come on, Mattie! The smell's not so bad once you get used to it!"

"What is this?!" Matthew demanded, but Alfred retracted into the mess without hearing his question...or did not bother listening to it. He shook his head, and with an irritated glance over his shoulder to the neighbor's houses, he stomped after his brother. He did not bother shutting the front door, since he was chewing the smoke and needed to be close to a source of fresh air.

"Try to turn off the alarms!" Alfred yelled. Eventually, he came out of the kitchen, wheezing and grabbing at his side.

"Seriously?!" Matthew hollered over the screeching alarm over their heads, "I don't even know what to say to you right now!"

Alfred whipped his head side-to-side, coughing, "It's just a bit of smoke, Mattie! Everything's fine-!"

"Everything is not fine! You call this a little bit of smoke? Ugh! Did a fire break out?!"

"No! No, nothing like that, there was just-"

Something clattered in the kitchen. They locked gazes. Matthew clenched his teeth at his brother's expression morphing into fright. "What. Was. That."

Alfred backed away, holding out his hands like Matthew was a wild creature instead of his beloved brother. "Stay there, would you? Just for a sec?" He quickly limped into the kitchen, back into the thickest part of this whole mess.

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

The smoke, the awful screeching, a long day at school, everything started to crash down onto Matthew's head. He yelled, ran up a few steps of the nearby staircase, and clawed at the smoke alarm attached to the ceiling. It cut off mid-beep, and Matthew slammed it onto a step with a satisfying clatter.

"Alfred!" He roared, unable to keep murderous intent from his irritated throat as he marched toward the kitchen.

Alfred was saying something too quietly for him to completely catch, "...I know, let's go."

Matthew automatically backed away as a large yet soft glow came from the smoke, and Alfred stepped out with his hand latched around a stranger's arm. "Mattie!" He smiled like nothing was going on when everything was going on. "This is part of the surprise I was telling you about! My friend!" He held a hand out to the shorter blond man next to him, who also looked traumatized from it all. "He was, uh, making dinner for us."

"Dinner?" Matthew bit back a scoff. When he looked at the stranger in the face, or more like his eyebrows, he quickly glanced to Alfred for reassurance. "Friend?"

Friends usually do not burn down people's houses.

The stranger held out a hand, and Matthew felt stupid when he flinched. "You must be Matthew. Just call me Arthur."

Now where have I seen this man before?

After trying to avoid gawking at the accents perching above this Arthur's green eyes, and his brother steadily grinning at the both of them, Matthew stammered out, "Yeah, that's me. Um, are you the one that plays bingo with Alfred?"

Injured like an old man, and carrying a cane like an old man, Alfred picked up playing bingo like an old man.

Arthur let out a noise of amusement as he lowered his hand, "Yes." He looked up to Alfred, "Bingo man."

Matthew wanted to run and hide somewhere. Anywhere. Alfred laughed as he swished a hand in front of his face, like that would get rid of the smoke any faster, "Cool, you guys. Sorry about the, uh, mess, but hey! Dinner's ready! Right, Artie?"

"Yes, it should be done cooking by now." Arthur was pleased about that.

Ugh. Goose bumps attacked Matthew's arms as the pair turned into the kitchen. Dinner's freaking beyond ready. Alfred glanced over his shoulder and motioned for Matthew to follow, which he did, extremely begrudgingly. He did not know if he was supposed to ignore or point out the glaring fact that this new friend of Alfred's had a subtle yet steady glow around himself. The smoke was definitely clearing out of the house by then, which punctuated the whole abnormal glowing thing.

Matthew tried to recount how much sleep he got in the last few days. It had to be obvious that Alfred did not see it, because he would have certainly blurted out something about it, or mentioned that hey, his new friend kind of glows, and do not freak out. Leave it to Alfred to find a human being that glows like a nightlight.

Alfred stirred a plastic spoon at the pot on the stove, the source of it all. His voice was unusually tight, "Yeah, it's done cooking, all right."

Matthew slowly leaned against his brother's back. Black goop bubbled inside the pot, and on the surface of the counter and stove. His mouth dried up at the sight, and he quickly spun away from...whatever that was. His hair was going to smell of smoke for a week, even with showers in between.

"Oh, cool! You made dinner." Matthew distracted the cold feeling of Arthur steadily staring at his face by peeking in the refrigerator. "How nice."

"Thank you, Matthew." Arthur did not sound like he was from around here, nor did he sound thankful. "There's enough for an army, so take as much as you want."

Oh, please, no. Matthew did not even have a chance to say any prayers. "Thanks, but, uh, I actually ate at work. Antonio bought us pizza."

"How nice," Arthur repeated in the same tone Matthew used. He turned to Alfred and held a hand out, "May I have a bowl, please?"

"Oh!" Alfred's voice broke, "Yeah! Sure! Here you go!" When Arthur went to sit down at the island counter with his prize, the brothers exchanged a look that only said, 'SOS.'

"I wonder why it's called chili," Arthur babbled as Matthew ducked to study the inside of the fridge. "In the end, it comes out rather hot."

"Ha-ha!" Alfred unleashed a too loud of a laugh, "Yeah! That is weird!"

This whole thing is weird. Matthew need to leave.

"Ha, ha...ha..." Alfred broke, "Arthur, what the fuck happened to our chili?"

Matthew jumped as someone slammed their hands on the countertop. "It's a little burnt! So what?! You can still eat it!"

"All you had to do was watch and make sure it didn't boil over! How did you even..." Alfred let loose a string of flabbergasted gibberish. "A little burnt?!"

"How about saying thank you for once? Even if it didn't turn out good, I didn't have to help you cook dinner!"

"So you almost burn our house down?!"

Matthew needed to leave. Now. He fled the room without even saying a thank you or a goodbye.

~.~

~BOING~

~.~

He had a lot of homework to do, but certainly did not bother with pulling his book bag from under his bed, where he kicked it that afternoon. The book he chose to indulge in as a substitute for his studies slipped from his loose grip and tumbled to the floor. He was already dozing over his blankets, still clad in his day clothes, before he had a chance to mark his page.

However, he was not worried about marking pages, especially when his body broke out in a rush of goose bumps from the chill in his room. His head nuzzled the pillow beneath him. "Hm, Al, did you forget to turn the heat back on?"

It sounded like someone softly gasped, but that was ridiculous because that would mean someone was in his room. Matthew's eyes snapped open when something nicked the siding of the house from outside, and he leaped from his mattress with a odd mix of fright and murderous intent. His glasses had slipped to the side of his face, and as he hurried to the window facing the back yard, he nearly jabbed one of his eyes from shoving them back into place. The curtains that usually draped over the lone window danced with the bone-chilling draft.

He was not the one that opened it in the middle of winter.

The hairs on his arms still stood rigid as he glared into night, but he saw nobody running from the back yard. Matthew retracted into his bedroom and quickly pulled the window close with more force than necessary. Clamping a hand over the chill brushing the back of his neck, he spun around and scanned the dim-lit room, if anything was gone, or broken, or...

He turned around again to click the locks on top of the window, and gave the plastic a tug upwards to make sure it was locked.

"This night keeps getting weirder and weirder, doesn't it?" Especially when Matthew started talking to himself. His breathing was noisy while the room was quiet, so he slowly closed his eyes and let his shoulders slouch. Something dragged against the roof before a loud whoosh grazed the night sky. This, of course, made him leap from the window, legs locking, and he tumbled to the floor. Some odd, panicked and unusual sounds came from his throat as he scrambled to the other side of his bedroom, where the opposite wall should protect him from freaky noises at night.

"Someone's creeping!" Matthew demanded at nothing. His eyes darted to every corner in his bedroom, but did not see anything else that would raise alarm. "Chill out," he murmured to himself. "Although, I think I have had enough with the chilling."

Muffled footsteps bounced off the walls, and his bedroom door swung open. Alfred jumped in the room and brandished his cane at the unknown. "Mattie! Mattie?" His legs started to jig as he nibbled at his fingernails. "Oh no, the ghosts really got him this time!"

"Uh, I'm down here, Al."

"Eek!" Alfred spun around and almost fell backwards. He looked down with a disgruntled look and knelt next to his brother. "What's up? Or should I say what's down?" He laughed at his own joke and offered a hand. "No, seriously, why are you chilling on the floor like, right next to your door? That's a bit creepy!"

"I..." Matthew shook his head, not wanting to sound like a madman, claiming his window opened on its own. He grabbed Alfred's outstretched palm and rose to his feet. "It's nothing."

"Doesn't seem like nothing!" Alfred so keenly observed for once. "You all right?"

"Yeah!" Matthew lied as he flopped onto his bed. "Is that guy still here?"

"Arthur? Yeah, why?"

"Oh. Just wondering."

Alfred pulled a funky pout and kicked at the floor. "You don't really like him, do you?"

Matthew scrunched his eyebrows at the abuse to his poor carpet. "Um, I just met him."

"Yeah, I guess." Alfred perked up with a little laugh. "Me too, honestly! It seems like he's a big grump in a little guy, huh? Ha-ha, but there's definitely more to him. It'd be lame if there wasn't, right? Ha-ha! Ha!"

Matthew started to get annoyed. "Al, you didn't meet him for the first time at the bingo hall, right? There was something else?"

"Oh, yeah! It was during my accident, remember?" Matthew really did not, as strange as that sounded, but Alfred made sure to remind him, "It was all crazy and he pushed me out of the way, so I didn't get ran over! Yay!"

"Really?" Matthew asked, making sure he obviously narrowed his eyes, "That's how you two met? And now you play bingo together?"

Alfred eagerly nodded.

He walked away from an accident where the front of a car bent around a stop sign. Strange. Then, he brought home a 'surprise' which is a glowing man? Strange things like other strange things.

"You've been acting weird lately," Matthew started. "Saying weird things. I know when you're keeping a secret."

Alfred shook his head, laughing again, "What?"

"Don't play dumb! You can see it, too, can't you?"

"See what?"

"The glowing!"

Alfred scrunched his face. "Um, what are you talking about?"

"You don't...!" Alfred stopped laughing. Matthew's mouth bobbed up and down as he realized what an idiot he sounded like. "S-sorry, I just..." He stuck a hand to his eyes, grunting, "I just had a really weird dream, and the smoke's still in my head."

"N-no! Wait!" Matthew looked up in surprise. Alfred stared with wide eyes. "How'd you break through?"

"Huh?"

"Don't you remember my accident?"

"Uh, yeah! You broke your ribs! How could I forget!"

"Well, there's something to it that you're forgetting!"

"What? What is it?"

Alfred kept staring.

"Alfred!"

He shook his head.

Matthew opened his mouth to yell at him, but went quiet as a strained noise came from Alfred's throat, like he wanted to say something, but could not. What could I be forgetting from his accident? It was downpouring, a car came, and it didn't hit Alfred. Yet he still got hurt. He gasped as something clicked into place, "You said that there was some guy that pushed you! Was that Arthur?!"

Alfred shook his arms like Matthew just won this game of charades. "Dude! Yes!"

Matthew squashed the urge to leap from his bed and dance with him. "He was the one that touched you and you felt better?!"

"Yes! How did you remember?"

How did I forget in the first place? "I don't know! I just...I just do!" Matthew crossed his arms with a scoff of disbelief. "So, you definitely see his glowing."

"No! Wait, yeah, I do, but we both lost that whole chunk of time when I was in the hospital. I remember, but how did you break through it?"

"Uh...I-I don't know..." Matthew hardly remembered even running to the hospital to see him. It seemed fake, but now that he really thought on it...something was up.

Alfred prodded, "Do you remember when at least?"

"A few days ago, I think, after you got out of the hospital." Around the same time as...Matthew gasped, speaking quickly, "Wait, I was going through Dad's shed, and there was something on the wall, like a painting-"

"Alfred!" A sharp voice came from downstairs. "Is everything all right up there?"

Alfred and Matthew gawked at one another for a long moment before Alfred called back, "Y-yeah, it's all good!"

"Well, are we doing something, or am I going to have to go home?"

"No!" Alfred rushed to the door, "I'm coming, hold on!"

Matthew shoved from his bed, "Wait, Al!"

Alfred was already squeezing out of the room. "We'll talk about this later."

"But-"

"Later, Mattie!"

Blehps:

The stranger held out a hand, and Matthew felt stupid when he flinched. "You must be Matthew. Just call me Arthur."

Now where have I seen this man before?

Trying to avoid gawking at the accents perching above this Arthur's green eyes and his brother steadily grinning at the both of them, Matthew stammered out, "I'm Mat...thew..." All right, he just could not tear his gaze from those caterpillars posing as eyebrows.

Dear God, those are the biggest eyebrows I've seen in my entire life. He can pluck those babies and use them for dusting, or wiping the snow off his car's windshield.

Arthur asked, "What is wrong with your brother?"

"Oh, he's just spacing," Alfred said. "He does that sometimes."