He has missed being in the city. Chicago has its own charm, and Alfred can sense it as soon as he steps out onto the train platform, ears buzzing with the chatter of hundreds of people talking at once. The crowd reminds him of home—the home where he would wake up in the morning and see his mother leaning against the windowsill as she listened to shuffling feet of New York beat against concrete. Even during the darkest days of the depression, Alfred remembers the steady march of the masses beneath their apartment, plodding on and on.
He closes his eyes, tosses his head back so the sun can warm his face, and everything comes rushing back to him in a whirling frenzy. It is the home of hot summer nights and playing chess with Matthew. It is the smell of hotdog stands and food carts. It is the crazy pigeons and squirrels in Central Park. It is everything he once loved and hated.
But then the moment is over, and he knows that as much as this feels like home, it will never be home. Chicago is not New York, but after being in what he considers to be the countryside for over three years now, any urban area is a welcome sight.
"Wow," Toris says as they try to orient themselves in the sea of people. Unlike Alfred, he has never known anything outside of small towns.
Alfred grins. "It's neat, huh?"
"It's… so different—like a million things are all going on at once, but I can't focus in on any of them."
"We're going to go to New York someday, so I can show you everything."
But Toris is already withdrawing into himself from all of the social stimulus. He grasps onto his knapsack like a lifejacket and murmurs, "Can we go someplace quieter?"
"Hey, you don't havta be scared. You have me as your super great leader. I'll take us to Mattie, and we'll be home by eight o'clock, okay?"
Toris nods his head but doesn't seem reassured in the slightest. And so, Alfred takes him by the hand and guides him out into the street, where it's just as noisy.
"Okay, first thing's first, we've gotta find a way to Bell Avenue."
"I thought you knew where we were going!"
"I do, I do!" Alfred defends himself. "I just need to look at a map first to make sure we end up going the right way. Umm… That's west, right? So… So we need to be… Hang on a sec."
"Alfred!" Toris whines.
"I know! I'll just ask somebody."
Alfred goes over to the first person who walks by, steels himself, and asks a large man, "Excuse me?"
"Get lost, kid," the man huffs.
Maybe they accidentally ended up in New York after all because the rudeness around these parts seems to have no bounds.
He tries again, but this time, he approaches a woman in the hopes she'll be more sympathetic. "Excuse me, ma'am. Do you know how to get to 6000 Bell Avenue?"
The woman raises a brow in surprise but is friendly enough. "Bell Avenue? That's quite a walk from here. I would take a taxi if I were you."
Alfred is perfectly willing to walk, but Toris isn't quite as motivated, and thus, they heed the woman's advice when she directs them to the nearest car service.
A pleasant elderly fellow gets a driver for them, and they hop inside their awaiting ride, restless and a bit anxious from the anticipation.
"Where are you kids going?" the driver asks.
"6000 Bell Avenue," Alfred recites.
"That's gonna cost you about two dollars. You got the cash?"
"Yes, sir."
"Okay, then."
Now that they have nothing else to do but sit back and wait, Toris calms down somewhat, even going so far as to nibble on one of the sandwiches Ivan prepared for him. He offers Alfred half, and he happily accepts, feeling a bit famished himself from all of the traveling they've been doing.
"You know, Toris. I'm really glad you came with me. Coming here alone wouldn't have been as fun."
Toris frowns around the food in his mouth and mumbles, "I'm going to be in so much trouble."
"Me, too. It'll be worth it though, you'll see."
"I hope so."
Alfred smiles. "I know so."
"All right, kids," their driver announces. "We're here."
They find themselves on a ghostly little street, forgotten in the wild rush of the rest of the city. A line of red-brick houses conjoined at the hip look out into the traffic, and an orange light pours out of their windows. It looks homely enough, but Alfred spends less time sight-seeing and more time getting straight down to business. He takes two dollars out of his pocket and adds a quarter for the tip, remembering his manners.
"Thank-you, sir," he tells the driver, nodding his head graciously before taking Toris by the hand and clambering out of the car with him in tow. He races right up to the sleek door of one of the red-brick homes and raises his hand to knock, but for some reason, his knuckles never meet the wood. Instead, he lets his hand fall back to his side and frowns.
Toris looks at him strangely and asks, "What's wrong?"
"I-I don't know... What if he doesn't want to see me? Or maybe he doesn't remember me."
"How could he not remember you?"
"It could happen, right?" Alfred sighs, hands twitching with fear and uncertainty.
"Come on, just do it. We came all the way here for this," Toris urges him.
"Okay, you're right."
Alfred raises an unsteady hand again and knocks properly this time with bated breath. His mouth is dry, and his tongue feels like it's too twisted to form a coherent sentence.
A woman opens the door. Her hair is speckled with silver, and she seems impossibly tired. "What is it?"
"Hi," Alfred says lamely, voice thin and brittle. "We're looking for Matthew. Is he here?"
"Matthew? Who's Matthew?"
"Matthew Jones."
"Never heard of him," the woman snaps, already beginning to close the door on them.
Before they can be shut out, Alfred throws a hand forward and pushes the door open again. "What do you mean you've never heard of him? Matthew Jones! He's supposed to live here! He's thirteen and looks just like me!"
Making a noise of disgust, the woman pries his hand off of the door and says, "Come here again, and I'll have the police come after you!"
Then, the door slams in their faces, and Alfred is left to stand there, paralyzed. Toris bites his lip and tries to touch his shoulder, but Alfred shrugs him off and goes storming down the street instead without saying a word.
"Alfred? Where are you going? Come back!"
All of this effort, and what came out of it? Absolutely nothing. He's no closer to finding Matthew than he was before.
"Alfred, please! Slow down!"
Hot, burning tears run down his cheeks, but he keeps walking. He doesn't know where he's going, but he can't really be bothered enough to care anymore. It was so stupid of him to get his hopes up-to think that everything could be fixed in a single day. He should have never come here.
"Alfred!" Toris continues to shout from behind him, slipping into a jog to catch up. "At least you know now. That's what you wanted... Alfred! Alfred, I'm sorry!"
He finds his way into a park and collapses in the grass underneath one of the trees, pounding one fist against the earth in blind anger while Toris hovers over him and tries to find a way to help.
"Al, come on. Let's go get some food or something, and then we have to go home before-"
"What if he doesn't want to be found?"
"What?"
Alfred raises his wet face from the grass and chokes back a heavy sob. "If he wanted to find me, he'd be looking for me, too."
"Maybe he has been looking for you."
Alfred shakes his head and wipes a hand under his eyes. "I'm never going to find him, are I?"
"D-Don't say that. You might."
"You're just saying that to make me feel better."
Toris doesn't say anything in response. He doesn't have to. Alfred already knows the truth.
"Let's go home, Al."
"I know my heart won't beat again,
Until the day we meet again,
Sweetheart, goodbye, auf wiedersehen,
Auf wiedersehen, my dear."
Francis rolls his eyes at Gilbert and smacks him firmly over the head. "Stop singing that. You're upsetting Arthur. Look at him, he's already beside himself."
Gilbert frowns and rubs the sore spot, looking very much like a sad puppy. "Music is supposed to be relaxing. It heals the soul."
"I don't think Arthur wants to be healed," Francis snickers.
"Could both of you belt up?" Arthur growls, shooting daggers with his eyes at both of them. "I have enough on my mind already, thank you. If you're going to act like children, then allow me to escort you back to the train platform."
"Okay, Mom. We'll be good," Gilbert snorts, gallivanting along. "We'll find the squirts, don't worry. Ivan doesn't seem so stressed out, and that means everything will work itself out."
But contrary to Gilbert's claims, Ivan is, in fact, very stressed out. He hasn't said a single word since they boarded the train, and it's been making all of them uncomfortable. He may as well be a volatile volcano, and he's likely to erupt into a frenzy at any given moment. And at that point, not even Gilbert's irritating sense of humor will be able to quell the aftermath.
"Are we almost there?"
"It should be on the next block," Francis informs helpfully, wisely standing between Gilbert and Arthur to keep them separated.
Gilbert lets out a satisfied hum. "Good. I'm hungry."
The red-brick houses come into view, and Arthur hurries ahead of the group, understandably impatient. He's at the doorstep before everyone else, and he raps on the door ruthlessly, not caring how impolite he's being.
The silver-haired woman ambles out. "Who're you?"
Unfazed by the woman's curtness, Arthur continues without hesitation. Unbeknownst to most, lawyers are very tough-skinned. "Good afternoon—"
"It's almost evening," Gilbert says, nudging him softly from the left.
"Rather, good evening," Arthur corrects, standing upright and on edge. "Did two young boys happen to come by here today?"
"Who's asking?" the woman mutters, dubious.
"I'm the... father of one of those boys."
"And you just let your child out of your sight?"
"Madame—" Arthur begins to protest through clenched teeth, down to the last drop of his composure.
The woman makes a tsking noise and puts a hand on her hip. "They were here about an hour ago, looking for somebody named Matthew."
Arthur's heart just about stops beating for a moment. "Do you have any idea where they could have gone?"
"They went in that direction," the woman says, pointing to the right. "If you keep going straight, you'll see a park. They could have gone there."
"Thank-you."
The door is shut, and Arthur allows himself to be a little relieved, although he won't feel entirely at ease until Alfred is under his supervision once more. This time, Ivan leads the gang along the street, still silent and refusing to speak.
"They can't be too far," Francis assures, and he, too, is beginning to express signs of anxiety.
For both Ivan and Arthur, it is the longest walk of their lives. By the time they see a cobblestone road and the plaque stating the name of the park, they're both shaking from head to toe and caught in a cold sweat.
Fortunately, the park isn't large, but it's just big enough to warrant having to break up into groups to make the search faster. Arthur and Francis decide to cover one half while Ivan and Gilbert cover the other. They navigate through the perimeter twice and when they reunite, they're still empty-handed and are left with no trace of the boys. They could be anywhere.
"Our next course of action should be to head for the nearest police station," Arthur states, voice cracking. He is completely panicked once again, and Ivan isn't doing much better.
To make matters worse, Gilbert decides to wander off, which only serves to agitate everyone even more.
"Where are you going?" Francis demands, unusually serious and intimidating. "Two children are missing! Have you forgotten why we're here?"
Gilbert narrows his eyes, a puzzled expression on his face. He's thinking hard about something, but he doesn't give any of his thoughts away. "You guys come up with a better game-plan while I grab some pizza from the pizzeria at the end of this hill. I'm starving."
"Can't you think about something other than food at a time like this?" Arthur cries out after him in disbelief, stricken. "Honestly..."
"I'll be right back! I swear!"
He's got a pair of rugrats to find.
When Gilbert walks into said pizzeria, he knows exactly what he's after. A hunch is what pulls him into the restaurant. He just feels like it's the right place to be, and he can't explain why he thinks so. His child senses are tingling. He knows that if he were thirteen-years-old, he'd be wanting a slice of pizza right about now. Hell, he wants a slice of pizza even now, as an adult.
And sure enough, he sees two adolescent figures tucked away in a booth in the back of the pizzeria, and for a long minute, he can't believe his eyes. He didn't think he'd actually find the boys here. It was a wild guess. A gut feeling. That, and he's still damned hungry as ever.
"Hey!" he shouts at them, and the two boys perk their heads up.
"Uncle Gilbert?" Alfred asks, eyes the size of the dinner plates they serve here.
"Don't 'Uncle Gilbert' me! What the hell do you think you're both doing here—running away from home like idiots? I don't even know what to say to you two! What if you were dead? Huh? What if somebody kidnapped you off the street? How do you think Arthur and Ivan would feel? How do you think I'd feel? I'm not giving either of you any more free candy from Beilschmidt Sweets, not after today! Not after making me come all the way out here to parade around the city without any food or bathroom breaks! That's it! I've had it with both of you," Gilbert shouts at them, which is entirely unexpected and, thus, horrifying.
Toris slinks back into his seat, but Alfred has the audacity to talk back to him.
"Why do you care? You're not my dad!"
"Oh, OH," Gilbert huffs, offended. "Just wait until we get home... I swear to God... Ungrateful brats. Get up! Both of you! We're going to go back to the others. Walk in front of me so I can see you. Well, what are you waiting for?"
Neither boy seems to want to test Gilbert's patience anymore, so they rise and dutifully trudge along in front of him, making their way out of the pizzeria.
It doesn't take long at all for the others to spot them from the top of the hill, and within seconds, Arthur and Ivan are sprinting down the road toward them.
"Oh, no," Alfred sighs, and before he can say anything else, he finds himself caught in Arthur's arms, which tightly coil around his shoulders and pull him in close, head pressed to the man's chest.
"You're all right," Arthur says, gasping for breath. He takes another moment to collect himself, and then he pulls back from the embrace, reinvigorated with anger. And Arthur, the man who has never dished out any physical punishment, suddenly grabs Alfred unforgivingly by the ear and gives him a sharp swat on the rear, eliciting a little cry of complaint from Alfred. "What were you thinking? Have you completely lost your mind? Do you have any idea what kind of hysteria you put me through? I have half a mind to keep your bedroom door locked from now on. You're not leaving the house until you're of retirement age, do you understand me, young man?"
"I only—"
"Don't argue! We're going STRAIGHT home, and then you're going to explain to me why you decided to send all of us on this wild-goose chase. And say goodbye to Toris as well, because you won't be seeing him for QUITE some time."
"But Arthur—!"
"No, don't talk! Let's go. I've had enough of this nonsense."
From beside them, Ivan is just as livid. He stares at Toris with cold eyes, and when the boy tries to apologize, Ivan directs him to start walking, deathly silent, which is worse than the shouting.
And once the preliminary round of discipline has been taken care of, Arthur turns to Gilbert and shoots him a grateful look, but it isn't necessary. This is just another hurdle they've jumped over, and there's no need for any words of thanks to be exchanged—they've known each other long enough to know each other's gratitude.
They start planning a route to get back to the train station to catch the last train of the night, and just as they come up with a plan, Alfred bursts into a waterfall of tears, succeeding at scaring everyone, including onlookers.
Arthur turns around to look at him, still stern, and asks, "Alfred, what is it? There's no need for tears, just tell me what's wrong."
"N-Nothing's wrong," the boy hiccups solemnly, doubled-over.
"Then why are you so upset?"
"Y-You all c-came to get us."
Arthur can't piece everything together at first, but then, he puts a hand on Alfred's shoulder and realizes that the boy isn't crying out of pain or anger—he's touched. Touched that they all came together to search for them. "Alfred, of course we came looking for you. We all care for you and Toris very much, and we'd be devastated if something happened to either one of you."
The mess of emotions seem to be too overwhelming for the poor boy, and he walks right into Arthur's arms, wanting to be held.
"Oh, Alfred," Arthur whispers, petting his head.
"H-He wasn't there. M-Mattie wasn't there."
"I know, love. I know… I'm sorry," Arthur desperately tries to soothe him, heart aching and contracting in his chest. "I know… If I had reason to believe he was here, I would have told you."
"I thought you just didn't tell me because you didn't care," Alfred murmurs, sobs continuing.
"Of course I care. I want to find Matthew as well."
Alfred clings to Arthur a little longer and catches his breath, wanting nothing more but to go to sleep in his warm bed for the night. "I wanna go home."
Arthur dries his face with a handkerchief, smooths back his hair once more, and stands up to his full height, just as weary if not more so. "Let's go, then. We can talk about this again later."
And when Alfred falls asleep on the train ride back, he feels different somehow—older. Nothing seems the same.