Arthur made a lot of mistakes in his life. Sometimes it felt like that was all he did.

But all of them had been fixable, up until this point. But Arthur wasn't sure there was a fix to this one.

"Alfred?" A knock, more for courtesy than because he expected an answer, "I've brought lunch."

He was breaking his own rules, he'd already sternly told off his other son for the same thing, but Mathew was right. Whether Arthur liked it or not, Alfred would rather starve than leave his room. And Arthur couldn't have that happen. Mathew's words rang in his head. "You did fail as a parent! Not just me, but you failed Alfred too!" Mathew said he hadn't meant it, and to some extent, Arthur believed him. But all accusations come from somewhere and Arthur knew that somewhere inside, Mathew truly did feel that way. And somewhere inside himself, Arthur knew Mathew was right.

He didn't mean for it to end like this, he hadn't meant to spit those cruel words. He hadn't meant the cruel words he spat at Alfred through the locked door. All he wanted...He just wanted a response. Even if it was tears, or shouting and fighting, even if Alfred threw the door open only to punch Arthurin the face, any reaction would be better than the eerie silence that greeted him instead. He just wanted a sign that Alfred was still there, still alive. And every time he got none, a cold chill settled inside him, chilling him from the inside out. So Arthur pushed harder.

He waited outside Alfred's room, staying awake nights in a row, desperate to lure him out. If he could just catch Alfred, he could fix him, make him listen, make him react. But he couldn't do anything if he couldn't reach Alfred, both physically and emotionally. But Alfred never came out when Arthur waited for him, and days passed without food. He'd hoped, maybe if Alfred got hungry enough, Alfred would come out. But Alfred didn't come out, and Arthur felt more and more lost. He didn't want this! He didn't want his son to starve slowly not even a foot away from a family that just wanted to help him.

And finally, his resolve broke. Mathew -quieter than his brother but no less hard-headed - rebelliously brought food to the offender, levelling Arthur with a heavy gaze that suggested Mathew would not be easily stopped. And Arthur surrendered, allowing it. At the very least, the empty plates left him an assurance that Alfred was still alive, but the comfort that brought was minuscule. He still didn't know why Alfred had chosen to isolate himself, or how to fix it. And even after two months, nothing had changed.

No, That wasn't true. Mathew had changed. Being identical twins with someone as loud as Alfred meant that it was sometimes easy to overlook Mathew. Arthur tried, of course, but sometimes there were still times when he didn't realize Mathew's fever when Alfred was loudly complaining he felt like vomiting, or sometimes he forgot to ask Mathew what he wanted to do in favour of picking Alfred's choice in order to make Alfred stop whining. Each time he made this mistake, it came back to bite Arthur, and the guilt never really went away. Maybe it was his fault.

Somewhere along the way, Mathew seemed to get it into his head that he wasn't allowed to ask for help when Alfred acted up, that if Alfred was sick Mathew must be healthy, if Alfred was failing classes Mathew had to pass his. That he had to be "the good one". It was a belief that Arthur still hadn't managed to break even after all these years, and one that definitely contributed to Alfred's buried resentment towards Mathew. Being a father meant he saw it all, but it didn't make it any easier to fix it. And now, once again, Arthur had failed Mathew again.

He'd noticed how Mathew was more and more tired recently, how could he not? But he hadn't thought it was that big a deal, hadn't considered the implications. Even when Mathew had come home and passed out on the floor, Arthur hadn't fully understood. He'd thought it was stress, balancing schoolwork and his messy home life was hard enough, but it must have been harder on Mathew. After all, despite how often they fought, there was almost no time in his life Mathew was separated from his twin, let alone completely cut off. Mathew knew more about Alfred than everyone else combined, and Arthur was sure the twins had secrets between the two they even kept from him.

But even Mathew didn't know why Alfred locked himself away.

And Arthur had thought that was all there was. Wasn't it enough? Until Mathew's school called back the next morning. And Arthur was crumbling inside. Dots he hadn't connected before suddenly became a clear picture. The reason for Mathew's constant exhaustion. What did Arthur even call that? Plagiarism? Cheating? Did it even matter?

In truth, he wasn't actually that angry with Mathew. It was wrong, what Mathew had done, lying and deceiving, but Arthur could forgive it, understanding the circumstances. Mathew was just trying to protect his brother the only way he knew how.

Alone.

And that was the real reason Arthur was angry. Not at Mathew, Not at Alfred, but at himself. he'd fallen short again. It was his fault. Was it his cold attitude towards Alfred or the way he'd lashed out and shouted? Either way, something he had done had solidified his sons' inability to trust him. Alfred, who would rather lock himself away than confide in his father, and Mathew who couldn't trust Arthur enough to ask for help. Something he did had messed them up, broken his kids, and that hurt Arthur the most.

He shouldn't have lashed out at Alfred. He shouldn't have lashed out at Mathew. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Mathew's eyes, wet with unshed tears and hopelessness, he felt the sting of skin-on-skin contact on the back of his hand and heard Mathew's wavering voice, fragile and weak.

"I just don't know what to do anymore, Dad."

Even if Mathew hadn't said it explicitly, Arthur knew his son was asking for help in the only way he could, the only way he couldn't face rejection for it. The only thing Mathew could do was admit defeat, that he didn't know the answer, and Arthur should have been able to rise to the occasion and provide the needed solution. But he couldn't. He didn't know why Alfred locked himself away, he didn't know how to connect with Alfred. He could have forcibly taken the door off the hinges, but he didn't even dare to do that, scared of what effect that would have on Alfred.

It was the most helpless he'd ever felt.

He'd thought grounding Mathew might be the solution, maybe not for Alfred, but for Mathew. Even as twins, they were too dependent on eachother, and Arthur could tell how it weighed on Mathew each time he came back from that silent door. Even after being grounded, Mathew, as stubborn as he was quiet, iflgnored Arthur's orders and kept visiting Alfred, even to just bring food, but something inside Mathew had bent, Arthur could see it in his eyes. He was lost and hurt and confused, and Alfred's situation was only making it worse. So, for the sake of not losing another son, Arthur made a choice.

"It's not healthy, Mathew."

Mathew looked like he very mjuch wanted to sah some very hurtful things, but was graciously holding them back, and Authur firmly pressed on before Mathew could protest.

"I'll bring Alfred his meals, I promise. What I said the other day... I didn't mean it, I was just angry."

Mathew just looked wary.

"You know I'd never do anything to Hurt Alfred, right?" Arthur reached for Mathew's hands, and the teenage reluctantly let him take them.

"Just one week, okay? I promise I won't let anything happen to Alfred, no matter what, but you're also important to me. I don't want to see you in pain like this, Mathew."

And for the first time since Arthur had called Mathew to speak to him, Mathew responded.

"Al needs me, Dad."

And Arthur found himself with the crushing task of imparting cruel reality onto his very sensitive child.

"Mathew..." He fished for words. "you... We've been trying the same things for over two months now. Nothing has worked. For both our own sakes, and for Alfred's, we need to try something new."

Mathew recoiled, trying to tug his hands out of Arthur's hands, but Arthur tightened his grip, refusing to let go.

"We can't go on like this, Mathew!"

Mathew formed a rather unattractive snarl, opening his mouth, likely with the intent to spit angry and defensive words, and Arthur hurried to cut him off, playing his last card.

"You said you didn't know what to do, Mathew. So why not, just once, do something different?"

Mathew flinched.

"I know I haven't always been the best father, and I'm far from perfect, but I love the two of you more than life itself. So please, just this time, can't you give me a chance?"

And Mathew began to cry, bravely trying to hold back the tears, but ultimately failing, hiccup ing from the force of his efforts.

"I'm scared." Mathew fibalym admitted his weakness. "Because if we mess up... Dad, I can't lose Alfred."

And Arthur reached for his son - had Mathew always been this tall? Arthur hadn't noticed how he'd grown already- and pulled him into a tight bear hug, like Arthur's embrace was the only thing keeping Mathew together.

"I know, Mathew. Me too."

And Mathew, for the first time since before he hit puberty, leaned into Arthur's embrace, and returned it. Maybe, Arthur thought, Mathew was trying to keep Arthur from falling apart too. Then, all too soon, Mathew broke free of the embrace and not-that-sneakily wiped his nose on his sleeve and relented, not meeting Arthur's eyes.

"Just one week."

And Arthur does the best he can with the trust Mathew has given him. The first thing he does is force Mathew to leave the house and hang out with his friends. Technically Mathew is still grounded, but Arthur ignores his own rules. Mathew's mental health is more important. Thankfully, due to the circumstances of the family and the understanding of the school, Mathew wasn't expelled, but he was suspended, and Arthur knows that too much free time could lead to a downward spiral. "Idle hands are the Devil's work" or so his mother used to say.

So he puts Mathew to work, doing chores, helping with upkeep of the yard, working on projects with Arthur. And, though it might seem cruel to the outside eye, a punishment for a suffering child, Arthur can already tell the effects after just a few days. There's less shadows in Mathew's eyes, less strain on his face and less tension in his muscles. It isn't that Mathew has forgotten Alfred, Arthur knows that best of all. He's simply spending a little less time worrying and stressing about it,too preoccupied with work.

And while it might not be "Good" it's "better".

Once he's satisfied Mathew is not in as much danger, mentally, Arthur finally can focus on the root of everything. There's a reason Alfred locked himself away, and while Arthur knows that, he doesn't know what it was. But two months of investigations hadnt made it any clearer, and he knows there's something more pressing than that. Something he owes Alfred.

It was just like Mathew had said. Maybe the reason Alfred locked himself away was Arthur's fault. Maybe it wasn't, but even then, maybe it was Arthur's fault Alfred still refused to leave. He regretted his harsh words and threats towards Alfred in the beginning now, those desperate attempts to engage a response. Now, he was wondering if he had, unintentionally, locked Alfred in himself.

Maybe Alfred wanted to leave, but was scared.

Even if that wasn't the case, he still owed Alfred an apology. So he apologized. Earnestly, awkwardly, he admitted his wrongdoings, and made a promise.

"I promise not be angry at you or punish you, even if you come out, so please..."

Arthur almost choked on the lump in his throat. No, that wasn't it. That wasn't what he really wanted to say. So he tried again.

"Just know that I'm here for you whenever you're ready."

In the end, that was the thing he wanted Alfred and Mathew to know. He was there for them, when they were sad, when they were scared, or hurt, or needed help. He would always be on their side. Somewhere along being a parent, he must have forgotten that. To comfort before scolding, to hold them close before correcting them. Somehow, in the frenzy of being a single father, he'd forgotten to tell them such a simple thing.

And now they were paying the price for his negligence.

So all Arthur can do is tell his sons that now, over and over until they believe him. It's disheartening to see Mathew's wary face when the week passes and there has been no change, or when he talks to Alfred's door but gets no response. But it's his price to pay for his sins. And he thinks that's enough. To allow himself more self-pity is selfish and disrespectful. He isn't the victim, and shouldnt treat himaelf like he is. All he can do is dedicate himself to his kids, attending courses on depression, parenting teens, even reaching out to a therapist for counseling.

And he thought he was doing enough, until late one night, or rather, early morning, a thought occurred to him. There was something else, something he should have said, but still hadn't. More important than assurances and apologies, or anything else he'd said. Something so urgent he couldn't sleep until he'd made his way to Alfred's room and said the words to a door that couldn't respond, knowing full well Alfred was probably sleeping, but hoping for the chance he was listening anyways. Three simple words he'd forgotten to say all this time.

"I love you."

There it was, so simple, so stupid of him. Arthur leaned his forehead against Alfred's door.

"I forgot to tell you, but I love you. Always, no matter what."

And Arthur makes sure to say it, over and over, day after day. Not just to Alfred, but Mathew. And Mathew, awkward with teenage embarrassment, still returns the words.

"Love you too, Dad."

And though he doesn't catch it happening, Arthur's sure that he's not the only one Mathew shared the sentiment with. Alfred too, locked away in his lonely room, must have heard it too. And it's good. It's better, healthier. It should have been like that from the start. He won't ever let himself to forget to say those words ever again, no matter how old his kids get.

But the end of the third month is nearing, and though Mathew has become less stressed, now balancing his concern for Alfred and his own health, Arthur finds his growing, twisting unpleasantly in his stomach. What should he do if Alfred never came out? Would he have to force Alfred out? Was they the right choice? He didn't know. He didn't dare make a move. He felt like he was a bug, stuck in resin, frozen in time.

Until one dylay, returning home from shopping, when he heard voices. Mathew, crying. No, not just Mathew. Another voice, strangely unfamiliar with the rasp of a long time without talking, but undeniable all the same. A voice Arthur hadn't heard in three months. He wasn't aware he'd dropped the grocery until ooze from the cracked eggs soaked j tk his socks, but he honestly didn't care. There was something far more important than just a few eggs. He moved in a rush, overly conscious of every motion, the rustle of the jacket he hadn't removed yet, the feel of each foot against the hardwood floor, the uneven beat fo his heart, and then-

There he was. Alfred, paler than he used to look, though wilether from stress, sickness, or general lack of sun, Arthur didn't know. He looked tired too, but not as empty as Arthur had expected. Alfred had clearly been crying recently, but he wasn't anymore, and his signature sheepish smile was playing around the edges of his face as he comforted his bawling twin, clinging to Alfred like he'd never let go. And then Alfred sensed Arthur, and looked up.

And Arthur froze. Just a moment ago, he'd wanted nothing more but to rush to Alfred and hold him, so tight Alfred would never be able to leave, but now, Arthur was suddenly terrified. Mathew's suggestion, his own self-accusations, malicious intrusive thoughts and self-doubts were all breaking lose, like water from a dam. What if... If it was his fault, then... He shouldn't go near Alfred, he might make it worse... What if Alfred was upset to see him? But what if his hesitation made it worse? What if Alfred thought Arthur lied, that he was mad, or that he didn't want to see Alfred?

Should he move? Or not?

His vacillation was freezing him in place, and the longer he froze, the more he panicked.

Alfred's expression twisted into a strange expression Arthur had never seen before, like a mix of sheepish uncertainty and exasperation, but not quite fitting either, like there was one or two other emotions mixed in Arthur couldn't identify. It was pertifying. Was it a negative expression? Or a positive one? Did Alfred hate that Arthur was there? Was he mad Arthur wasn't coming close? Was he upset Arthur was already that close? Did he want him to go away? Was he ruining a touching moment with his unwanted presence?

Mathew, likely sensing the change in Alfred, wiped the tears from his eyes and turned to see what Alfred was looking at. He halted, just for a second, upon seeing Arthur, then, unbelievably,

"Pfft," He snickered. "What are you doing Dad? Get over here."

Arthur managed to tear his gaze away from Alfred's face in order to look at Mathew, trying to gage his expression, but he didn't get a chance. Apparently not in the mood for waiting, Mathew walked over and grabbed Arthur by the upper arm, haulingt him iver to Alfred. Arthur suddenly felt less frozen, but no less flustered.

"Ah-Alfred." she stammered a bit over his words. "I- you... You came back!"

Not quite the right words, Alfred hadn't really gone anywhere, but not quite the wrong words either. Even though Alfred had only been in his room the whole time, it really did feel like he had just returned from somewhere far away. Mathew groaned like Arthur had just said the stupidest thing possible, but the strange little quirk returned to Alfred's lips, like he'd found it mildly amusing.

"Yeah," Alfred said in his hoarse voice, "I'm back, Dad."

And Arthur all but collapsed onto Alfred, eyes burning as he tried - and failed- not to break down. And, judging by the sniffles from Alfred, He wasn't the only one. Mathew, perhaps feeling left out, perhaps to make a statement, or maybe just because he wanted too, wiggled intonther hug till It was suddenly a huge, wet group hug with runny noses and sniffling, and twisted smiles. Arthur had never had a better hug.

There were explanations to come later, things to do to fix things, to prevent it ever happening again, to rebuild bonds and break insecurities, but none of that mattered to Arthur right then. All that mattered was that he'd finally gotten Alfred back, and this time, he'd never let him go again.

Eventually, they did get answers. Weeks and week of therapy, rebuilding trust and bonds, and the truth came out. In his heart, Arthur had been expecting something big, being bullied at school, feeling unloved at home, heartbreak. But, as the saying goes, it only takes one pebble to flip the carriage.

"I just...got tired." Alfred struggled to explain. "I just wanted to be left alone for a bit, so I locked my door, and then I couldn't make myself open it again." Alfred looked miserable, just remembering. "I couldn't make myself do anything. And I didn't want to."

Alfred flicked anxious eyes between his dad and his brother, shoulders curling inwards.

"I'm sorry."

Arthur couldn't pretend he understood. Sure he'd often been weary, exhausted by life, but there was always a reason behind it. Work, kids, stress. There was always a pressure he'd buckled under, and unlike Alfred, he'd managed to pick himself up and keep going each time, even if it was jsut from spite alone. But he'd never felt the urge to just give up for no reason at all. Or, Arthur thought, maybe there was a reason, and even Alfred didn't realize it yet.

It was clear Mathew didn't understand either.

"Then..." Mathew looked anxious, almost desparate. "It wasnt... It wasn't because of something I said?... It wasn't my fault?"

Such pitiful words from the ever-sensitive and kind Mathew. Sadly, Arthur couldn't even claim it was a shock. He'd known from the moment Mathew lashed out at him in an un-Mathew-like fit of anger. But it wasn't really anger, it was fear, and even though Mathew hadn't realized it, his fear had shown in his words.

"Unlike you, I'm not giving up on Alfred! Unlike you, I actually care!"

Desperation.

"Al needs me, Dad."

Shouldering too much responsibility. Like if he wasn't there Alfred would die. Not just because of mistrust in Arthur. Not just because of fear for his brother. Guilt. Mathew, who felt the sting of words more keenly than the others in his house, naturally assumed it was words who that hurt Alfred, either hsi own, or Arthur's. Thus the lashing out. He'd always been the first to apologize for what he said, even when no one was upset by it. But Arthur wasn't able to soothe Mathew's guilt.

"What?" Alfred sounded genuinely taken aback and puzzled. "No? Wait, whst did you say? Should I be offended?"

If it wasn't such a sad and sobering scene, it would almost have been comedic, Alfred's blunt confusion and Mathew's hanging jaw. But Arthur couldn't find it funny. There were scars in his family, long and deep, now more obvious than ever. Arthur hoped that if not he, then them together - with the help of the hired therapist - would be able to slowly grow past them.

"You know," Alfred blurted, flustered by Mathew's distress, " It's kinda because of you I was able to come out!"

This is news to both of them, and Arthur and Mathew look sharply to Alfred for more information. Alfred flushes, suddenly avoiding eye contact. He shrugs, trying to make light of something Arthur knows he doesn't take lightly at all.

" Mattie apologized." He said lightly, "And I wanted to know why."

There's probably more to that story than that, but Alfred doesn't share, and Arthur doesn't ask.

"Besides," Alfred suddenly grins cheekily, "Dad said 'I love you' and I knew he was gonna be bright red and I wanted to see that."

Now it's Arthur who's flushed red.

"What's wrong with a father expressing affection for his son?" He busters defensively.

Unfortunately, his twins share the same wavelength when it comes to harrassing him.

"Nothing~" Mathew chimes in in a sing-song voice.

"Which is why," Alfred joins in, equally mischievous, "You should tell us more." He leans forwards, eyes sparkling with mirth. "Come on, Dad! Tell Me you love me!"

For some reason, Arthur very much did NOT want to do so right then.

"Yeah, Dad!" Mathew backed his brother up," Don't you love me? "

He might love them, but Arthur would rather have eaten a whole lemon, peel and all, than answer them right then. But, he'd made a resolution to himself, and even if it was embarrassing, Arthur had seen he effects of not saying those words. So despite feeling like his face was on fire, he tried his best to sound prim and collected as he consented.

"It's true. I love both of you." Then feeling something lacking, he quickly added on, "Which is why you should talk to me if you have any problems instead of being stressed on your own."

Alfred grinned. "Awwww. I love you too, Dad! Even if you're a tsundere old man!"

Mathew, wearing a slightly less cheshire grin, agreed.

"Love you too Dad. And you to, Al."

Alfred stuck a wet finger in Mathew's ear and Mathew retaliated with a noogie, and somehow Arthur was pulled in too, and chaos ensued. It wasn't over, not really,aand Arthur knew that. It would takes months of healing, and care on all sides to prevent a relapse, but at least, they were happy now, everything was final getting better.

And the almost three-month long "Locked Room Mystery" was finally solved.

End

*Author's Note:

... I wrote this at 2 am and while I realize I changed tenses a couple times, I simply could not be bothered to fix it.

I am sorry.

Also i know the ending is kinda flat but I just really struggled to write those last few lines to close the scene so I kinda gave up.