Click. Click, click. CLICK, CLICK, CLICK.
"Arthur!" Matthew whined, holding his doll protectively, as if the very sound of Arthur's rampant keyboard rage was like a bomb waiting to explode, "Stop chanting to yourself! You're scaring Al!"
Arthur stopped for a moment, his swivel chair turning precisely ninety degrees counter clockwise to face his "angry?" cousin, "He's a doll, Matthew. An inanimate object for collective purposes; you'll get too attached if you give it a nickname." Arthur made a sharp turn on his chair, facing back towards his computer. He could be categorized as a very specific individual; your average "prim and proper British school boy".
He didn't wish to be interrupted; in the three weeks that the duo was bought, just an hour after the purchase questionable reasons made him become skeptical about the whereabouts of these dolls. Arthur had seen nothing like them; furthermore, he wasn't even familiar with the collections of which the dolls belonged; and it had been the first time he bought something that wasn't exactly in "pristine" condition.
Arthur drummed his fingers on the side of the desk in thought. On the search engine he quickly typed in the words: "French Dolls, Marionette, Paris Collection"
"Hmm?" He leaned in towards the screen, "What's this?"
Arthur clicked on the link, exposing what he considered to be valuable information.
What stood out was not the bright lime green background of the website; but the picture that stood front and centre on the home page.
A picture of both his and Matthew's doll together, and in large font on top: "TWO IN A MILLION"
It appeared to be an article of sorts; not too long, so as to bore him, but long enough to provide the necessary information he was looking for regarding these dolls. He read the article to himself.
"Both collections of Paris and Western were taken by storm into a cloud of popularity in the past five decades. So much so, that competing doll companies during this time were threatened to the point of bankruptcy; because of this, radical measures were taken; the mysterious murder of the doll maker himself; name and age unknown, as well as the burning of all the dolls in stock and sold on record. In a stroke of an almost impossible miracle, the original prototypes of each of the dolls in both the Paris and Western collections were saved, kept locked up in a hidden safe in the victim's private room. When they were found, both were taken into custody and many of the innocent doll companies, distraught by the previous outburst of these dolls, attempted to create replicas of these dolls as 'compensation'. Unfortunately, because of the strange complexity of the structure and form of these dolls, none of the copies would sell, and the original dolls were handed down to the last descendent of the deceased."
Arthur blinked, and picked up the certificate that he received with his doll that day. It was almost mandatory for a collector of his standards to have one for each doll in his collection.
"Francis…Bonnefoy?" He slowly enunciated the name, then chuckled to himself lowly, "…This would be a merciless sin; buying such a thing, if we moved back to see my brothers back home, right, Matthew?"
"Eh?" Matthew was too busy cuddling with his own doll to even notice Arthur calling out to him. He had to admit; though somewhat awkward, it was nice to have Matthew attached to something else other than his stuffed polar bear.
"Come over here." He ordered abruptly, disregarding the fact that he was being demanding; nevertheless, Matthew walked over.
"Hm?" Matthew leant over from behind Arthur's shoulder to see the screen.
"So far…" Arthur started, a know-it-all tone evident in his voice, "the dolls we've bought are 'real'"
"Really?" His younger cousin tilt his head unknowingly to the side, obviously not sure what that meant.
Arthur clicked a few more times to enlarge a few photos on the website to show Matthew.
"Yes." He gestured towards one with both dolls together, "Apparently, for a very low price, we now own both of the rarest dolls in the world."
Not very impressed, Matthew just smiled politely and held his doll closer.
"Anyways…" Arthur put his computer on hold and turned towards his cousin, "It's time to go eat dinner."
"There we go!" Arthur set down two bowls of a delicious looking "something" in front of Matthew and himself, "Go on now; eat up!"
"Ehh…?" Matthew picked up his fork with trembling fingers and gently poked the dish on its side. When it suddenly exploded along with an eruption of black murky, opaque gas as it lifted into a cloud in their kitchen, Matthew screamed and cried out; clutching Alfred to his chest, "Save me! Save me! Al! Arthur's cooking is going to eat me!"
Before he knew it, Arthur had already ran to get the fire extinguisher, open up a few windows in the house, and brought him outside to breathe cleaner air while he did his work to clean up in the kitchen.
From the outside, Matthew could hear Arthur blabbering vast amounts of swears, cursing the table, the food, the world. He lifted Alfred so that they were face to face, "…It was never like this, you know."
"Arthur is just doing his best." He squeezed Alfred close, "…they never meant to leave us. 'It's only a vacation' they said. Arthur's the oldest…he'll take care of me."
Matthew was already on the verge of tears; unable to hold it in for any longer, he just let his feelings go, "…Y-you're the only friend I have. Y-y-you'll never leave me."
When Arthur finally finished cleaning and picking up the broken fragments of whatever was left on the floor, he groaned and wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. One would think that the cousins would get used to this by now; their surrounding neighbours noticed a blow up of at least five fire trucks encircling their house at least four times a week; on a good day.
As Arthur stepped out of the house to gather Matthew back inside, he deadpanned when he noticed the crowd of enraged policemen and firefighters going about their usual business; that is, reminding him about fire safety, stop, drop, and rolling, and of course, to order take out more.
"Fuck!" Arthur yelled, causing Matthew to flinch in fear. It was always painful to hear Arthur cursing out right in front of his eyes, "…They don't fucking know us. I do my best to provide for our lives, and those good for nothing 'keepers of the peace' think they have the right to patronize us? They don't even give a damn about all the shit we've been put through!"
"A-Arthur…?" Matthew timidly interjected, the sooner he calmed him down; the better it would be for the both of them.
Arthur immediately settled down; seeing the look of worry in his cousin's eyes was too much for him to stand. He could tell; it hurt him so much.
"I'm sorry." He breathed out, then, taking a seat on the floor next to Matthew, Arthur set upon him a questioning look, "…How do you stay like that?"
"Hmm? Stay like what?"
"Like that!" Arthur poked his cousin's cheek condescendingly, laughing as Matthew pouted.
"I have Al, so…" Matthew looked around for a while, then stood up quickly to pick up something on the other side of the room, as he returned back to his place beside Arthur; dropping the object into his lap.
"That!" Matthew pointed out, Arthur's Parisian doll with bright eyes staring back into his green ones, "When I talk to Al, I feel like all my problems just fade away!"
"Problems, huh?" Arthur stared at the doll for a moment, taking in and trying to absorb what his cousin was saying, "Does it really work?"
"Of course it does!" Matthew exclaimed happily, "They'll listen to your story, no matter how long; never say a word; never judge you. They'll love you no matter what!"
"…Is that so?" Arthur scoffed inwardly. He didn't wish to upset his cousin, after all, Matthew was only trying to help.
What was this he was speaking about? Some kind of "unconditional love"? Did such a thing even exist? Hell, he didn't care. If it worked for Matthew, he might as well try it. He had nothing to lose.
"Thank you, Matthew." He forced a smile, the sentiment only to be rewarded by a colossal bear hug from his cousin.
"Feel better soon, okay?"
Arthur checked the time; the bright neon lighting beneath the plastic of his dollar store-bought clock beckoning a late 2:00AM. He had been up that long?
The mysterious aura around these dolls we're intriguing to him. There was something almost enchanting about them. Could it have been the way the clothes appeared almost authentic, as if there were of legitimate position in a war? Or perhaps it was the strange human likeliness of the hair; and those deep blue eyes that stared right back at him…
Maybe a bit too deeply.
Arthur snapped out of his thoughts and sighed, he had gone through the research for weeks. Was there something wrong with him? He had been infatuated with this doll since the moment he saw it through the display in that store; but what made it so special?
"Perchance…" He concluded, "…it's some sick kind of confounded 'love at first sight'"
It was irrelevant. Who cared?
He was willing to sacrifice anything to afford for his cousin.
He let out a yawn and lifted himself off the computer chair, dragging his feet lazily towards he and Matthew's shared bunk beds. He stared at the short ladder with solemn eyes; perhaps it was just the day's fatigue coming over him, but the ladder seemed much more tedious to climb than usual. Sure enough, before he knew it, he had made it to the top.
Stretching himself on his bed, he called down to his cousin, "Matthew, you better get some sleep soon." He said sternly, before collapsing on his bed and giving up to the night.
"A-alright!" he replied, but it was already too late; he listened as Arthur's voice turned to nothing but light breathing, a signal that he had fallen asleep.
Looking down to his doll, he held him close; then looked forward to Arthur's study desk. Matthew was never allowed to use the desk, Arthur himself proclaiming that he had to keep all their work organized and proper. He was a workaholic; Matthew knew this well, and would never forget to thank his older cousin for all the things he's done. Walking up to the desk, he noticed that Arthur had left his newly bought doll on the computer's keyboard. Matthew thought, maybe he had forgotten to take it with him, what with all the work he had done for today; must have made him tired.
Matthew picked up the doll and slowly climbed up the ladder, placing it gently beside Arthur. With a sense of accomplishment and pride, he climbed into his own bed and tucked both his polar bear and Al, in with him.
Snuggling under the covers for warmth, he pulled Alfred closer and sighed. Tomorrow would just be a new day. Same old routine.
How very interesting it was however, when the morning after both cousins noticed unfamiliar faces in their beds as they awoke.