Nope. Its not an April Fool's Joke! Finally, the newest chapter! I hope it doesn't suck!
Matthew looked up hopefully as he heard the door open, hoping to God three people would enter the home. No such luck, as only his papa and his depressed looking father stepped in. The twin was almost afraid to ask. It didn't seem like he had to though.
"Alfred refused to come home." Francis answered the unspoken question, helping his husband out of his coat. Matthew looked back down, he shouldn't be all that surprised. He knew deep down this would happen.
"I'll... I'll try to talk to him at school tomorrow..." He offered pathetically after a moment. He only had two chances to persuade his brother to come home. After Tuesday Winter Break started and school would be over for the year. Then he didn't know what he would do because going to face Alfred at Toris' home didn't seem like the best way to get him to come back.
"What if he doesn't come home before Christmas?" Arthur whispered meekly and Francis glared at him. The Frenchman was beginning to loose his patience. Arthur had been silent the entire trip home, staring at his hands in his lap. Francis hated it when Arthur acted this way, it brought back to many memories he wished to forget.
"He will come home. Stop moping Arthur, everything will be fine. He will probably be back tomorrow anyway." The elder blond assured.
He wasn't.
Matthew had tried his hardest to get his brother to just come home but had only incited anger. Alfred yelled at his brother for taking his father's side. Matthew accused him of being selfish. The conversation (most would define it as a heated argument) ended with Matthew dragging Gilbert away and Alfred doing the same with Ivan in the opposite direction. At lunch, Matthew ate with his boyfriend and Kiku, Alfred and Ivan ate on the roof.
The pair remained distant for the rest of the day, though they dealt with their emotions differently. Alfred complained about his family continuously and denied any sort of guilt he might have felt. Matthew ignored his feelings, plastering on a smile as he urged Gilbert to tell him about his awesome day.
Only Alfred kept up his front when returning to his 'home' at Toris'. Matthew merely flopped onto the couch and buried his head into one of the couch cushions. Soon he ignored his albino's calls and texts. His concern and worry over his brother melted into anger over his selfishness.
Alfred always did this. He blew up, took drastic action and made everyone else suffer because of it. Why couldn't he come home so they could fix everything? The house was so quiet without him. Dad had even stopped yelling! All he did was mope as well.
Matthew jerked slightly as fingers smoothed his blond locks. He glanced up to see his Papa's facing gazing down at him worriedly. He hadn't even noticed that he had come home from work.
"Are you alright?" The Frenchman asked softly. Matthew forced himself up, making room on the couch for his father to sit. Francis did so, soothing his son's head to rest on his shoulder as he continued to pet the soft hair. The younger twin didn't complain, finding it comforting.
"Alfred's being annoying." He finally sighed out. He wanted to say he was being a selfish bastard but he didn't think his father would like the wording of the statement. In truth his selfish bastard if a brother was being a selfish asshole. Didn't he understand that the problem would be solved faster and less painfully if he came home and talked it out? Drawing it out would only make things worse!
"Do not be like your father. He will come home. It has only been a day." Francis reassured, repeating the same thing he had been forced to say for the past day. It never seemed to help, though.
"You haven't fought with him yet. It can be quite exhausting." Matthew snapped tiredly, turning his head slightly so his voice was muffled by his father's shoulder.
"Hmm." Francis hummed.
"...I love you, Papa." Matthew whispered softly, having the sudden urge to say those words. Francis smiled, nuzzling into the blond hair before placing a soft kiss on the top of his head, eliciting a light giggle from the younger.
"Je t'aime aussi, mon petit." (I love you too, my little one)
"Where are you headin' off to?" Alfred asked as he watched Toris run around the house. His coat was half on and his hair was in a frazzled state. His shoes were on but untied as he ran about in search of his keys.
"To the airport. Raivis and Eduard will be arriving at the airport soon. I'm going to be late!" He muttered under his breath what Alfred could only assume was a curse as he finally located his car keys.
"Oh! Cool! Haven't seen them in a while. Why are they coming over?" Alfred asked excitedly, ignoring the Russian sitting beside him on the couch. Ivan did not see what was so interesting about more people having to stay in the home with them. Especially if it took Alfred's attention away from himself.
Toris paused to stare at the young blond in disbelief, "Christmas is this Sunday."
Alfred made a small 'o' shape with his mouth, feeling slightly stupid that he had forgotten. How could he forget? Christmas was one of his favorite holidays! Sitting around the fire with the fami-
Oh. That's why.
He quickly sat back down and looked over at Ivan, "So, what should we do now?"
He wasn't trying to distract himself or anything.
Ivan raised an eyebrow at the sudden change in attention before shrugging. "We may do whatever you wish."
Alfred rolled his eyes. He hated indecisive answers like that. They never got anything done. He heard Toris climb the stairs hurriedly, probably having forgotten something or another. The dude really needed to take a chill pill once in a while.
"If you are so bored, then we should play strip poker." Ivan spoke suddenly from beside him.
"Wait..What?" Alfred asked, alarmed. He stared at the Russian as if he had grown a second head. Ivan tilted his head in slight confusion at the reaction he received. Had he said something wrong?
"Is something wrong?"
"Did you seriously just ask me out of the blue if we could play strip poker?" Alfred asked incredulously. Strip poker? With Ivan? That would be so awkward! Except for the fact that Ivan might have to strip... Which might be hot-No. It would be awkward!
Ivan was about to answer when the phone interrupted him. He ignored it, "Is it odd? I read on the internet that it is a fun game to do when one is bored."
"Ok. First off, what sites are you surfing? Second off, do you even know how to play poker?"
"Could some one answer the phone!" Toris called from upstairs, suddenly.
"I am sure I can learn quickly enough." Ivan answered with a shrug. Alfred hesitated a moment as a cruel smirk adorned his features. Hmm, maybe it could be fun. And it would be a great distraction.
Not that he needed a distraction or anything.
"We'll see." He finally stated, reaching over and picking up the phone since it seemed obvious Ivan wasn't going to (The Russian absolutely hated phones), "Hello?"
"T-Toris?" Came a very timid voice.
"Nah. He's busy. I'm Alfred, and I can take message for him."
"Мне очень жаль, я не говорю по английски." (I'm sorry, I don't speak English.)
"What? Sorry man I can't understand you. Are you speaking Russian?" Alfred offered, wondering what the hell the feminine voice had just said. It did sound similar to what Ivan sounded like when he started speaking in his creepy native tongue. "Wait, Ivan here can speak Russian." He would have handed the phone over if not for the sudden panic on the other line.
"Nyet Ivan! Nyet Ivan!"
Alfred narrowed his eyes. He knew enough that 'Nyet' meant 'no'. "How do you know, Ivan?" He asked quickly, feeling his neighbor on the couch perk up. And suddenly Alfred's eyes widened. Wait a minute, a chick, calling Toris, speaking Russian, "Holy shit is this Katyusha?"
Before he could hear a response the phone was ripped out of his hands. "Алло? Алло? Катюша? Это Иван! Ты в порядке? Ты здесь?" (Hello? Hello? Katyusha? It's Ivan! Are you alright? Are you there?)
But the line was dead. Ivan almost broke it as he slammed the phone down in frustration. Alfred looked at him grimly, placing a hand on his shoulder in a hopefully comforting manner. Ivan shrugged it off and stormed off into the kitchen, leaving Alfred behind. Alfred didn't try to follow him.
Footsteps echoed as Toris came down the steps. "Alright, I'm leaving. Who called?" Alfred sprang up, glaring at the brunette the minute he reached the floor.
"A Russian chick. Is Ivan's sis calling you?" He demanded bluntly. He smirked triumphantly when Toris paled considerably at the accusation.
"Wh-what?"
"If Katyusha's been calling you then Ivan has the right to know." Alfred snapped, crossing his arms and leveling his former babysitter a stern look.
"I..I have to pick up my brothers." Toris excused himself quickly, escaping before Alfred could interrogate him further.
"Come on Matt. Just because you're brother's being a drama queen doesn't mean I have to suffer." The albino whined into the phone.
Matthew glared at the cell even though he knew Gilbert couldn't see him. The bastard was lucky. "Gil, I can't deal with this right now, ok?" Couldn't he be a bit more sympathetic?
"But Matt! You've been a bummer for the past two days! Its the first day of vacation, why can't you come over and hang out?" His boyfriend continued undeterred.
"Papa and Dad need me right now. You know that. You're coming over Saturday for Christmas Eve dinner so stop complaining."
"But Mat-" Matthew shut off his phone, throwing it at his bed before scurrying back downstairs to where he could smell Papa making dinner. He just couldn't deal with his insensitive boyfriend right now. He was still frustrated and pissed and he missed his brother way too much. As he entered the kitchen he couldn't help but sigh. Dad was moping again with a cup of tea.
"Aren't you suppose to be going out with Monsieur Gilbert, tonight?" Francis asked, watching as his son sat down beside his husband at the counter. If he started to mope here too he was going to have to do something. He just didn't know what. He himself was beginning to wear down from his son's absence, and the rest of his family's growing depression was not helping in the slightest.
"I'm not going."
Francis frowned, staring at the two sad males. "Enough of this already. How about I make a delicious dinner and than we all watch a movie together like we used to?"
"Alfred used to love movie night..." Arthur offered in his melancholic, "He'd always pick a horror movie and scare himself to death." He smiled fondly at the memory, "And then he'd beg to sleep in our bed, claiming he had to protect us from the ghosts..." He rubbed his tired eyes with his palms, "Where did I go so wrong?"
"Arthur arrêt ! Pour le derniere foi!" (Stop! For the last time!) Francis sighed, narrowing his eyes at the pair. "Matthieu, go find a movie we can all watch. Arthur, set the table. We are going to have a nice happy dinner!"
"Is something wrong Alfred?" Ivan whispered next to him as he ate. Alfred hesitated in answering him.
He looked around the dining room, seeing the three brothers talking to each other excitedly about their experiences over the last few months. They seemed so happy, as they laughed and retold stories around their meal. Alfred couldn't help but think of what his own family was having for dinner at this very moment...
"Nothing." He responded and after a moment continued, "...We can play the game tonight...If you want that is." He offered after he glanced back up at the happy smiling family.
He wasn't searching for a distraction or anything.
"Fuck this shit!" Alfred cursed, slamming his cards down. He stood up angrily and practically tore his pants in anger as he pulled them off. Ivan giggled in amusement from where he sat, completely clothed other than his bare feet.
"You're a cheat. There's no way you've never played before." Alfred accused, the only thing left on his person were his boxers. He had long stopped feeling embarrassed in front of Ivan after having to take off his shirt. Such feelings were quickly overshadowed by his frustration.
"Perhaps you are merely bad?" Ivan offered, his tone dripping with amusement. Alfred glared at him, crossing his arms as he sat back down.
"Shut up. Alright one more hand. I'm totally going to win this time." He snapped, shuffling the deck.
"Alfred, you only have one article of clothing left." Ivan pointed out but Alfred ignored him as he dealt the hand. It was over a few minutes later.
"Fuck! Why does life hate me?" He cried as he lost, yet again. Ivan merely giggled once more, extremely happy he had convinced the American to play with him. "Stop laughing! Its not fair! You only had to take your socks off!"
Ivan shrugged, "It is a fairly simple game. Now, shouldn't you be naked by now?"
Alfred flushed and stared down at himself, realizing that he really did only have his boxers on. "B-but-" He began to protest.
"Ah ah, Alfred. I warned you before hand. Now you must strip."
Alfred sent him a glare feeling his red blush extend to his very core. This so wasn't fair! This whole game was some communistic plot against freedom. If only he still had somethi-
He smirked.
"Fine. I'll take something off." He finally accepted, causing Ivan to look at him suspiciously. He had agreed much to quickly. With a shit eating grin the American slipped his glasses off and placed them on the table. "There!"
Ivan frowned in disappointment, "That is not right. Glasses do not count as clothing."
"They sure as hell do now." The American stated happily, his grin spreading across his face at the utter genius of his plan.
"Why are you embarrassed? I believed you said we were a couple. Doesn't that not mean that you should feel comfortable naked beside me?" Ivan pondered allowed, truly puzzled by the question.
"No! I'm not doin' anything like that any time soon! Sheesh, and don't act so high and mighty! You're the one whose always embarrassed about their body!" Alfred argued quickly.
"But that is because I am scarred. I'm not very appealing." Ivan replied easily with a shrug.
"So I am?" The blond snorted.
"Yes. You are very handsome." Ivan nodded in a matter of fact way.
Alfred flushed, not expecting the honest, blatant answer. Sure he always claimed he was the hottest man on Earth, but no one had ever actually agreed with him... "Erm... Wait! You don't think that you're hot?"
Ivan stared at him slightly perplexed, "Hot? I do not think I am hot... I am usually cold..." He didn't really understand the question. Why were they suddenly speaking of temperature?
"No, I mean, you don't think that you're like handsome?" Alfred corrected quickly, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.
"Nyet. You have seen my scars. I am too tall, too big. You have said so yourself, yes? My nose is big too, right?" Ivan reminded, listing the flaws the American made quite clear he suffered from.
Alfred paled. Shit, did Ivan take those insults seriously? Why was he such an asshole! "No! Dude, you're really hot—handsome! The scars don't matter! You're tall but that's ok and you're not big just muscular!"
Ivan tilted his head, "I do not understand... I thought you did not like my physical appearance?"
"Fuck no!" Alfred blurted out, getting redder by the minute. What exactly was he admitting? "I mean..." He moved toward the other, still sitting calmly on the floor across from him. The Russian came back into focus as he got closer, having become blurry from the removal of his glasses. "I just say crap when I'm angry. I don't mean it."
Ivan nodded slowly, still not really understanding but enjoying the sight before him. He really should get Alfred to strip more often...
Alfred bit his lip as Ivan remained silent. He really should watch what he said around other people. He was always messing things up. Like what he had said about Da—Arthur. No. Don't think about it. Don't think about it.
In order to follow that command he instinctively moved forward to kiss his...boyfriend. Ivan blinked in surprise but quickly responded. Alfred's arms found themselves looped around the others neck, still wrapped in his scarf, as he inched even closer to him. Soon he would be residing in his lap, not that either of them really minded.
There was just something about kissing Ivan that made Alfred want more. He didn't understand it. He'd kissed other people before. He'd kissed girls and found it to be kind of disgusting. He'd kissed guys, and sure he enjoyed it, but it was nothing like kissing Ivan.
Ivan fought back. Ivan pushed back. And Alfred loved that.
The American pulled back, separating their lips in order to catch his breath. Ivan looked at him, and he stared back into those unique violet pools. He didn't know why, maybe it was due to the others complaints of his own body, but he began to trace the others face with one of his fingers. The skin was softer than one would expect. It reminded him of something fragile, though Ivan looked anything but that.
As his digit ran along the length of the others nose, he couldn't help but place a chaste kiss on its tip. "And you're nose is fine." He assured. Ivan blinked at him, his cheeks turning the slightest shade pinker from the statement.
"Ha! I made ya blush!" Alfred said victoriously, poking the others nose for good measure. Ivan rolled his eyes but smiled, leaning forward to capture those delicious lips once more.
"And you are perfect." He said honestly. Really, Alfred was perfect, especially compared to himself. The boy was so pure, so full of life. He would make sure nothing ever spoiled his beauty, both physically and emotionally.
Alfred tensed slightly at the statement, biting his lip as he thought of his family. They didn't think he was all that perfect. In fact, they probably thought he was a screw up. Before he could dwell on it too much, though, he kissed the other again.
"You sure you're ok?" Alfred asked again and Ivan nodded quickly, trying to control his breathing.
"Da. I am fine."
Alfred frowned, rubbing the others back comfortingly. Every single night Ivan tossed and turned and shivered until Alfred managed to wake him up. He'd always ask if he was ok, but the other would always answer that he was fine and go back to sleep.
With a sigh, Alfred rolled onto his side as well, wishing there was more he could do.
It had been almost a week and still no Alfred. Christmas was in two days. Their Christmas Eve dinner was tomorrow. The Bonnefoy family was reaching its breaking point.
Arthur climbed up the stairs with heavy footsteps, his mind clogged up with regret and worry. He meant to turn into his own bedroom, to lie down on his bed. He really did. But instead, his traitorous feet lead him to his lost son's bedroom.
It was a mess, like always, and Arthur couldn't help but smile as he picked his way through the minefield of the floor. He resisted the urge to clean, finding comfort in the familiarity of Alfred's mess. Instead, he looked about the room. His eyes fell upon a few toy soldiers, once brilliantly painted but now a faded shadow of their former glory. His fingers traced against the wood, recalling each cut he had made so many years before.
He picked one of the soldiers up, smiling at the worn down face as images of his precious little Alfred swarmed in his mind. He had made him these toys during one of their first Christmas' together. The boy had been ecstatic and had rushed to hug him once he unwrapped his gift. He remembered he had hesitated in returning the hug but found he couldn't help but do so when Alfred repeated a mantra of 'Thank you Daddy' over and over again.
It had been early in their life as a family, a time where Matthew was still mostly shut in on himself and Alfred a little more shy. A time when he and Francis were still unsure about how to go on with two new additions. A time where misery was right outside the door and any little bit of happiness was greatly appreciated.
The fact that Alfred had called him Daddy so freely at the time had made him treasure the memory forever.
But that didn't matter anymore did it?
Alfred had said so himself, he wasn't his real father and he supposed he never really could be.
Arthur set the toy soldier down before he could damage it. His grip on the small wooden figure had tightened considerably during his inner musings. He sighed shakily, knowing he should really leave the stifling room for his own.
After one last long glance at the unmade bed he turned to the door.
And stepped on something that wasn't the floor.
This fact should not have been surprising. Alfred's floor was littered with carelessly thrown items so perhaps it was Arthur's subconcious willing him to stay in the room for a little while longer that lead him to pick up the offending item.
It was a sketch book, an old one he recalled Francis giving to the boys when they were much much younger. He flipped it opened and smiled at the simplistic drawings of superheroes, the boys' old orphanage with some nuns about and even themselves.
After a few flips, the pages became blank as he assumed Alfred lost interest and grew out of his short lived artistic phase. The Brit was about to put down the small book when a filled page caught his interest. He flipped back to it, finding it filled with some sort of plan having to do with Ivan (or at least he assumed so since his name appeared at the top of the page). It was scrawled haphazardly with doodles accompanying each point.
Arthur raised an eyebrow, wondering what all of this was about. He flipped the page for what he assumed was the continuation of this 'plan'.
When his eyes fell upon the page he imediately tensed.
Written in bold, angry marks and clearly legible were the words, 'Why Arthur Bonnefoy fucking sucks:'. Arthur swallowed dryly as he read on.
'He took away my games
He is super mean
He cant cook
He hates Ivan
He thinks I'm stupid
He treats me like a child
He is never proud of me
He hates me
I fucking hate him too.'
"Arthur?"
Arthur whirled around, clutching the drawing pad to his chest as he stared at Francis peaking in through the doorway. "Arthur, what's wrong? Are you..crying?"
The Brit's hand immediately shot up to touch his face, finding it surprisingly wet. Francis took a step forward with concern shining in his eyes and Arthur stared at him. "He hates me." He whispered finally.
"Non he does not. He is a teenager, they just say that in the spur of the moment." He assured. He was doing way too much 'assuring' and 'reassuring' these days.
"You're wrong. He's hated me long enough to write up a list why! Who knows how long he's abhorred me! Am I really that horrible?" Horrible enough to actually hit your own son, you bastard. His mind reminded him.
"Arthur, what are you talking about?" The Frenchman asked, confused.
"This!" He shoved the drawing pad into Francis' chest, wiping his eyes furiously because damn it he was a grown man!
Francis looked down at the item, pulling it back so he could skim the page. His face grew grimmer as he did so. "Arthur, he doesn't mean it." He said quickly, after he had finished reading it.
"He thinks I find him stupid! He doesn't think I'm proud of him. He wishes I didn't adopt him!" Arthur cried out. How could the frog not see it? Alfred wasn't coming home, and why should he? It seemed as if this was hell on earth for him! And all because of Arthur.
And suddenly Francis snapped. He ripped the page out of the sketch pad stuffing it into his pocket. He dropped the pad in favor of gripping Arthur shoulder's angrily. "Enough of this wallowing in despair! I am sick of you two fighting! I refuse to have this family crumble apart because of something so stupid! I will get Alfred home right this instant and you will apologize to each other!"
"But he hat-"
" Arrêt ! Ça suffit!" (Stop! That's enough!) Francis growled, leaving the man behind as he stomped down the stairs. Matthew looked over at his father worriedly as he snatched his coat from the hook. He didn't like what was going on, didn't like that his passive father was being so out of character. Dad was the one that got angry. Dad was the one that threw a tantrum.
Papa was the calm understanding one. But Papa was furious and it frightened the teen to no end. Still, he was sick of his brother's absence as well and made no move to stop the Frenchman as he exited the home, slamming the door shut behind me.
Alfred groaned as he tried to make sense of his stupid Spanish homework. No le gusta! He didn't even know why Ivan insisted on starting their homework when they still had like, two weeks left of break. Usually, he would start his mountain of homework the night before school started.
"I do not understand. Why is it spelled 'through' instead of 'threw'? I thought 'threw' was a word." Ivan asked, looking up from his difficult English homework.
"It is. Like 'threw' is the past version of 'to throw' and 'through' spelled with a 'gh' is like 'through this this happened'..." Alfred tried to explain with a bit of difficulty. Ivan frowned at his attempted explanation, glaring at the phrase written on his worksheet.
"English is a very dumb language." He finally decided before leaning down to fix the sentence.
Alfred rolled his eyes, "At least we use the right alphabet." He snapped, turning back to his Spanish homework, trying to remember if a certain word had an accent. He hated accents. Accents shouldn't even exist in the world.
"The Cyrillic alphabet is perfectly fine." Ivan defended, erasing another word on his page.
"Cyril-whats-it? Yeah, no thanks. I'd rather stick to my ABCs."
"It is very simple, really. A is like a, Ƃ is like b, B is like v-" He spoke as he wrote the familiar letters on the page. It wasn't like he was handing it in so he didn't think the teacher would mind if he wrote on the back.
"Woah! Creepy squiggly makes the 'b' sound but an actual B makes a 'v'? That's so stupid!" Alfred cried, staring at the foreign letters. No wonder English was the best, it was the only one that made sense!
"Perhaps English is the stupid one." Yet Ivan still didn't seem to understand that point.
"Then how is it the number one language in the world?" The American goaded feeling triumphant.
"Not for long, Spanish is getting much more popular." The taller teen pointed out easily enough.
"Yeah, but Russian is still super low on the list. Cause its dumb."
"I will not argue over something of so little importance."
Alfred was about to exclaim victory in their little argument when the doorbell rang about the house, making him close his mouth. Toris had left with his brothers for some reason or another that he could care less about. He was more interested in eating his breakfast and trying to question Toris at the time. When did the brunette get so good at evading questions? It was so annoying!
Ivan stood up at the sound of the bell and Alfred did as well. They wandered to the front door and Ivan unlocked it easily. He never bothered to check beforehand, mostly because he was pretty sure he could kill whoever happened upon Toris' doorstep. Their teenage eyes widened at the sight of Alfred's french father before hand. Ivan was surprised with his presence, believing that if anyone were to come, it would be the angry disagreeable one.
Alfred was much more alarmed by the fact that his Papa was angry.
Furious, even.
"Papa?" Alfred asked trying to sound stern and confident. It came out shaky and nervous.
Papa never got angry at him or Matthew. Never.
Blue eyes narrowed, "You are coming home. Now."
I AM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT!
My excuse comes in four parts!
Part 1: Homework is a bitch
Part 2: AP classes are a bitch. Especially since exams are almost here. Holy shit I'm freaking out.
Part 3: I got injured -.-
Part 4: FF has been a bitch lately. I think its fixed now though.
So yeah, I hope this chapter is acceptable. I'm not happy with it. But I'm never happy with any of my chapters.
Next chapter, Alfred and Arthur talk and there is drama~
I find it interesting that like, the majority of you guys hate Artie... He's harsh because he sees himself in Alfred, sees that rebellious punk within him. He fears he'll make the same mistakes as he did if he isn't firm with him. He's not very good with emotions. Thats why he acts the way he does. Or at least, that's what I think.
Thank you guys so much for your patience and your reviews full of love and support! Updating is going to be difficult but in May, once APs are done, I'll be able to return to my normal schedule! Thanks for being so understanding!
I love you all forever and ever!