A/N: Wow, not the nicest chapter, still on the short side, and mostly all angst. Next will be longer and probably more light hearted.
Moon-that-glows-at-night: thank you so much for reviewing! Unfortunately, Matthew doesn't catch a break this chapter. And I hope you like what happens next, though I can't say I particularly like it too much. (I am fond of a balance of fluff and angst)
SilverDawn1313: well I am really glad you enjoyed it. Three days is record time for me, usually it takes me a month to get another chapter in. I am writing this story differently, though, with less planning and the first draft on my phone so when I am just sitting around doing nothing (school) I can be doing something productive. So I think I will get them out quicker.
Matthew scrubbed quickly while glancing at the clock. 7:48. They were supposed to have left three minutes ago, but Alfred seemed to have misplaced his shoes again.
"Really, Alfred, it seems like you are constantly misplacing them." Complained his father.
"Sorry, Dad! Dunno where they could have gotten to! I checked everywhere!"
"Well obviously not everywhere," teased his mother.
Syrup wasn't as fun to clean as it was to eat. The sticky goodness made it hard to scrub off of any surface, even tile and his arm was starting to hurt. Matthew glanced at the sneakers behind the couch, wondering whether his parents knew Alfred had hidden them the night before like he did almost evening.
Matthew was still worried. He wasn't even dressed yet and the floor still wasn't completely scrubbed, let alone mopped up. He wondered how long Alfred could keep up the act.
"Oh, here they are!" Matthew heard their mother exclaim. Apparently not very long. "Oh, what a silly place to put them." She stated." However did they get here?" Was that sarcasm he detected in her voice? Maybe they did know what was going on.
The floor was sufficiently soaped up. Matthew lurched toward the sink tearing off as many paper towels as he could grab. He threw them on the wet counter and scrubbed as fast as he could. In a matter of seconds, the moisture was wiped up and he tossed then into the trash can by the pantry.
Getting dressed was next on the list. Thank god he had the foresight to lay his clothes out. He scrambled into them in a rush, and took off down the stairs.
His parents were already in the car. Alfred was nowhere to be seen. Matthew hurried out the door.
If there had been a storm that night, Matthew would have known. Alfred hated thunder, and would have been in their parent's bed when the morning came. Still, it must have been windy because the patio chair had been blown over into the walkway. So distracted Matthew had been that he didn't even notice it until he had crashed into it.
He went sprawling on the ground. his arms shot out in front of him falling. There came a sharp pain where he was hit. He rolled over grimacing, and propped himself up on his right elbow, gingerly bringing his left arm to his face.
Blood, Matthew felt a bit woozy. He had never liked the sight of blood. He wouldn't even watch the violent R rated horror movies with Alfred because the sight of violence would make him nauseous. Then again, Alfred didn't really watch them either-just huddled with a pillow and pretended to his friends at school that he had sawn it all the way through.
Matthew was having trouble focusing, mind going off on tangents. A large gash on the inside of his arm starting from the bottom of his palm and went up a few inches toward his elbow.
Get a grip, he tried to tell himself. Some part of his mind, still shaken from the fall, found the phrase amusing. He wasn't going to be doing much with his left arm, let alone getting a grip of anything.
He heard a door shut behind him and a few scuttling footsteps.
"Honey, what's the matter?" Asked a female voice Matthew recognized as his mother's.
Matthew couldn't help but marvel at how silly the question was, until he realized with a shock that his mother had spoken to him!
"N-nothing, I-I'm fine mom" said a voice behind him. The voice sort of sounded like his brother's…
Alfred, of course she had been talking to Alfred. He must have just come out of the house. Honey? That was Alfred. that had always been Alfred. It had been stupid of Matthew to actually think that his mother had spoken to him.
He watched as Alfred stepped passed him. His brother stopped a few meters in front of him, fingering his bomber jacket the way he always did when he was upset.
"Honey?" Said the annoyed voice of their father. Annoyed at Alfred, there was a first. Alfred sprung into motion, walking toward the car again.
Matthew knew he had to get up. Pain or no pain. Blood or no blood. His parents would leave without him and there was no way he was staying home while his brother went to a theme park without him, even if he wasn't as much of a coaster enthusiast.
Matthew hauled himself up and stumbled toward the car. If that car door shut, His parents would start the car and the three would speed away. Mathew would get there before the car door shut.
"Alfred, would you close the car door, hun?"
"In a second," procrastinated Alfred.
No way, no way in hell was Matthew going to let his brother shut that door. No way.
"Here, I'll do it," grumbled their father.
"No, its fine!" cried Alfred. "I'll get it in a second!"
Mathew was almost there. His father reached back to grab the handle but in his awkward position, he was no match for his son's determination. Mathew's bad arm shot out when he saw what was happening and yanked the door handle out of his father's hand.
A white hot jolt of pain shot up his arm and he collapsed into the car seat with a gasp. He quickly shut the door and strapped himself in. The twist of his hand shoving the buckle in made the boy whimper.
"What's that annoying sound?" Muttered his mother.
Matthew shut up.