Chapter Four; In which Matthew gets some brilliant ideas

"So then I was all like, well mate, I can only go to the barbie this weekend if I leave early but then I won't be able to get any of that stuff you promised, 'cos you aren't coming for a while, but then I would have to, like almost miss that meeting and stuff and I don't really want to do that, so I'll have to…" Stephen Kirkland rambled on, casually lounging in one of Arthur's large chairs.

"I'm not going to ask again, Stephen, get the hell out of my house." Arthur was standing, nose turned up at his guest. Stephen continued on while Arthur spoke to him, ignoring everything else.

"But then I stayed anyways, because it was such a blast, so I had to tell my friend that he needed to get the plane ready, but I was kind of smashed, so I told him to get it later, but when I woke up, totally hung over, I totally forgot and then I ended up at this bloke's house, and he was like, getting me breakfast, but it wasn't really breakfast and it wasn't really supposed to be for me and stuff, I don't know, it was really strange."

"How did you get here anyways?" Arthur snapped.

"My friend, he flew me here in an Aussie plane." Stephen finally responded.

"And what the bloody hell is an 'Aussie plane'?"

"Aussie's drive it, duh. Anyways, so I was all like, hey mate, I need to get to my lil bros now, he's got some funky shit going down at his joint, so then I actually had to, like, pay for a ticket because I totally forgot he runs a professional plane, but I got total discounts on it and stuff and I was totally almost this late from missing it but then I didn't so it was all cool, but I was like exhausted and stuff when I got there, you know, from running across the entire airport with all my bags, the customs guys were just so pissed!" Stephen went back to his ramblings.

"I'm your older brother!" Arthur thundered, clenching his fists together. "And how did you get that on a professional plane?" Arthur jabbed his finger towards the small creature crawling over the back side of the chair.

The koala looked up curiously before resuming its methodic climb across.

"Same way I got this baby on," Stephen reached into his jacket and pulled out a very scared-looking possum. He dropped it to the floor and watched it run away.

"That doesn't answer anything!" Arthur cried, throwing his arms up. Stephen ignored Arthur and promptly continues with his story.

"So then I sat beside this lady and she was all like 'Like, O.M.G.' in her posh little accent. Kind of like how you sound, right? It's crazy, anyways, so I was like 'I got some crazy shit right here', pointing to my jacket, right? And then she got all like drug-dealer-phobia or whatever, so I pull open my coat and she sees Freddy, the possum, and she freaks the hell out. It was just so funny and her accent was like the exact same as yours, mate," Stephen explained, gesturing around wildly with his hands, "She was like English or some shit, it was so weird, anyways, I couldn't tell, but the point is I almost get kicked off this plane, I was so close, it was so funny."

"Stephen, I am English, thank you," Arthur sighed.

"And who is this?" Stephen turned his attention to Matthew, "And how come I have no idea who you are?"

"I'm Matthew," he said nervously, "I'm from Canada."

"Well, I'm Stephen, you can call me Steve. I'm Australian, through and through."

"Stephen, you aren't Australian. You've just lived there for the past 15 years," Arthur sighed again, "How did you find out about this?"

"Peter called me," the man said simply.

"Stephen, Peter hates you. Why would he call?"

"He wanted me to bug the piss out of you," Stephen smiled.

"Well, gee, thanks. You've already done so, so why don't you get back on your stupid, bloody plane and go home." Arthur waved his hands around in front of Stephen, as if he were ushering him out. "I liked it better when you were on the other side of the world," he sniffed.

"No way! I'm coming with you, mate!"

"No way in hell." Arthur said stiffly. Stephen sighed and got up. He walked over closer to Matthew, putting on an innocent face.

"But Matt wants me to come, don't you Matt?" Stephen quickly pulled Matthew into a headlock and pulled his mouth down into a frowning face.

"Mmm," Matthew said, unable to speak properly with Stephen's finger dug into his cheek.

"Put Matthew down."

Stephen smirked. Matthew groaned and tried to dislodge himself from under Stephen's arm, but he wouldn't budge. Matthew wiggled around, grasping his arms around Stephen's waist and trying to yank his body away.

"Pleash let meh go," Matthew grunted when Stephen's grip loosened slightly and he could speak again. Matthew continued to try to get out of Stephen's seemingly iron grip.

"What the fuck is this," came a voice from behind them, from the doorway into the small dining room.

Arthur rolled his eyes and turned away, huffing at the character in the doorway.

Stephen finally released his grip on Matthew and he stood up straight again, rolling his neck around his shoulders uncomfortably. Matthew turned around to face his brother, but wasn't able to speak before Stephen did.

"G'day mate!" Stephen said, bounding forward to shake Alfred's hand. Alfred stared the man down, jerking away his hand whenever Stephen reached for it.

"Who the fuck are you?" Alfred sneered, malice dripping from his tone. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed with a scowl written across his face. He was obviously in a very pissed off mood, coming from the argument he had had with Arthur earlier in the afternoon. He gave a look of disdain in Arthur's direction, glowering for a minute, before turning back to Stephen. He hadn't even glanced at Matthew.

"Well, somebody's not in a very good mood," Stephen teased, brushing Alfred's chin with his finger. Alfred reached up and smacked it away.

"Stop that," he hissed.

"Ooh, ouch," Stephen giggled.

"Whatever, I'm out of here. Matthew, come see me later," Alfred huffed with disregard before stomping out of the room noisily.

Matthew stared in disbelief as Arthur coughed quietly and walked out swiftly, looking to be following Alfred, but when he reached the end of the hallway, he turned the opposite way. Stephen scoffed and turned to Matthew.

"Hmm, interesting," Stephen pondered.

Matthew gawked at Stephen, waiting for him to speak again. The whole scene had been so confusing and had ended too quickly.

"So Matt, what got you into this job? Arthur never did have very many friends." Stephen started, "And you definitely look too young to be one of them."

"Uh, well, Arthur and Francis, a long time ago," Matthew mumbled, trailing off near the end. He looked down.

"Oh, I see," Stephen looked at Matthew with raised eyebrows.

"Really?"

"No," Stephen laughed, patting Matthew on the back. "Chill out man. Did Arthur really never mention me?"

"Yeah," Matthew grinned, more relaxed now the subject wasn't on him. "You said you were his brother?"

"Yeah, he doesn't talk much of me, 'cos we aren't in the best relationship. I like to push his buttons, and he doesn't like that much…" Stephen chuckled again. "Apples, she'll be though, he'll forgive me. Eventually. Anyways, who was that bloke that came in here after though? He seemed mighty pissed too."

"That's Alfred, my brother." Matthew sighed.

"Oh, he seemed like Arthur, don't like his buttons pushed?"

"Well, yeah. I guess…" Matthew trailed off again. "He and Arthur got into a fight earlier this afternoon. Usually, you'd be the one with your buttons pushed and you would be so sick of him you wouldn't want to look at him again. He's very outgoing." Matthew smiled.

"Oh?" Stephen looked at Matthew skeptically, wringing his hands together. He looked around, obviously done with the conversation. Matthew looked down, shy. Stephen peered down the hallway and whistled sharply. Seconds later his possum, Freddy, raced down the walk, bounded off of one of the chairs in the room and latched itself tightly to Stephen's head.

Matthew looked at Arthur's brother, head cocked, while Stephen coaxed the koala gentle off of its chair. He had band-aids all over his arms and legs, one gracing his nose crookedly. His brown hair flopped to one side of his head, almost as if he hadn't bothered brushing it this morning.

"What's with all the band-aids?" Matthew asked curiously.

"I get out into the bush a lot, mate. How do you get around in this house anyways?" Stephen grinned at Matthew.

"Well, there's a staircase just beside that hallway—" Matthew was cut off when Stephen threw him a thumbs up and sprinted down the hallway, leaping over the railing and racing up the stairs, koala on his shoulder, possum at his toes.

Matthew shook his head. This day had started out strange, but it just kept getting weirder and weirder. And he still had no idea how to get back to his room.

So Matthew wandered down the hallway in vain, out of the small dining room he had spent most of his day in. He glanced around corners, sort of following the path he and Arthur had taken before Stephen had shown up. There were voices around every corner, but Matthew shied away from them, not wanting any more drama he had gotten into that day. And he still hadn't eaten yet.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that when he reached the front door, he startled, having almost walked straight into the large set of double doors. He looked around suspiciously. There was the butler next to the door, but he looked the other way, seeming to doze off in the abandoned front hallway.

Matthew glanced around again, facing the door, an idea forming in his head. He could leave now. He could honest to god leave. He jumped quickly and unlocked the large doors. The butler turned to him, head swiveling while his body remained still. He raised his eyebrows. Matthew put a finger to his mouth while he giddily swung the door open.

The sky was getting dark, red bands stretching over the horizon as the sun sunk into the other side of the earth. Matthew hadn't realized how late it had become. He would have to stop somewhere for food, his stomach angrily protesting the lack of nourishment.

There were a few houses nearby, so Matthew jogged down the long driveway and through the open gates. He was in a modest neighbourhood, with the few houses being smaller and less decorated. They paled in comparison to Arthur's great estate.

Matthew wondered why he left so quickly and on such a whim. He had nothing in the suitcase he had brought to Arthur's house, just some suits and pyjamas, so he could leave it behind. He had left Alfred there too, after he asked him to see him. Oh well, he was sick of that house anyways. There were too many fights and conflicts going on, people spiting each other. He wished he could go back to his house in Churchill, where he could hole up inside his study, working away at his job. Alfred made fun of him for it, teasing him for creating 'long strings of numbers and letters'.

Scripts, they're called scripts, he relentlessly reminded Alfred. But he never listened.

Matthew was tired of all the weapons. He didn't like how people seemed to be stepping around the subject of this door and Arthur and Francis' 'jobs' before this. He didn't like that everyone was mad at each other for one reason or another.

Matthew stopped. He heard voices, even though there was nobody around. He looked around curiously. There was a commotion happening through an open door in one of the houses he had stopped in front of.

He glances through the door, which led to a long hallway. There was nobody there, so the voices must have been coming from down the hallway, possibly in another room father down?

"Get out of my house! Ton chocolat est merdique et je ne veux pas!" An angry voice came thundering down into the road. Matthew could barely make out the French; it was spoken in such a harsh tone. Something about the man not wanting any of their chocolate, and how it was bad… He wondered who they were talking to.

"You know what? Your French is shit!" A lady's voice yelled.

There was some murmuring before the house went quiet again and a woman barrelled out the door, knocking into Matthew. He looked at her as she clumsily tried to keep from dropping the cake she held balanced in her hands.

She ran off without another look at him, sprinting to the house across the street from the one she just came from, her traditional dress flapping in the wind. The doors of both houses slammed shut and the street became silent again.

Matthew sighed.

Translations:
(French)
Ton chocolat est merdique et je ne veux pas! - Your chocolate is crap and I don't want it!

Thank you, as always, for reading!