Alfred doesn't see him often, but has him memorized perfectly. He stares at the other man, follows him around never saying hello or hey, I see you a lot around here, I'm Alfred, he just looks. He looks and memorizes because he wants everything to be just so, perfect, the likeness to be easily recognizable even if he's the only one that gets to see the finished piece. (Maybe if he asks politely enough his boss will let him put this in the museum's showcase, just once. He wants people to see how perfect this is, how perfect he is.)
..
Alfred overhears those who know him call him Matthew. Matthew, Alfred will say to himself, Matthew, and when he returns to work he stares at the figure and says hey, Mattie, I've missed you.
..
Alfred needs the perfect shade for Matthew's eyes, wants to see how his hair frames his face (and how it's just touching his chin and how it looks more strawberry blonde in certain light) so he gets closer, watches Matthew smile at who he presumes to be his father across the table, watches him laugh and laughs along with him even though he doesn't hear the joke.
He spends hours that night picking out the perfect shade of blonde hairs and pressing them into the wax.
He finds the perfect over-sized sweater for Matthew, and he can't hide his smile when he goes to purchase it. "He'll love it," Alfred laughs and he's a little breathless. The saleswomen smiles with him, it's impossible not to.
"I'm sure he will, sweetheart."
..
Alfred kisses Matthew's cheek when he's finished, runs a careful hand through the synthetic hair. He's finally perfect (or as perfect as anything can be that isn't his real Matthew) but he's all right with his wax figure for company and watching Matthew from a distance.
For the first time in a long while, Alfred is proud of his work.