What had been a span of forty-five minutes, felt like an eternity to the ever-worried Matthew. He'd lined up with the other students when Ms. Yulo had blown the whistle, signifying the end of recess. He had even returned to class and participated in the lesson. However, no amount of world history, no matter how intriguing, could take his thoughts off his twin.
Mr. Carriedo had returned to the classroom ages ago… but there was still no sign of Alfred. Matthew clutched Mr. Kumajiro tightly to his chest, trying his hardest not to cry.
"He really must be getting in a lot of trouble if they haven't sent him back to class yet." The timid boy thought miserably, "It's all my fault! I bet they're even calling Daddy at work… he's going to be so angry!"
The clock seemed to taunt the panicked youth, ticking ominously slow. Matthew's heart pounded in time with the ticks as a lump sat heavily in his throat. When at last the classroom door did open again, the poor boy nearly jumped out of his skin.
"Ah, Alfred. Please have a seat and open your history book, we are reading from page twenty-eight." Mr. Carriedo said calmly.
Matthew studied his twin as he trudged his way to the seat beside him. Alfred looked stricken, as if he'd received quite the reprimand. He was clutching a small ice pack to his left eye, most likely the school nurse's contribution to help alleviate the swelling.
Alfred struggled with the textbook one-handed, but managed to find the page the rest of the class had been studying.
Matthew bit his lip; he wanted so very badly to ask Alfred about what had happened. At the same time, however, he didn't want to get his twin in any more trouble by talking during the lesson. Therefore, one could almost imagine his surprise when Alfred broke the ice first.
"They called Dad." Alfred whispered the words his twin had been dreading to hear.
"…Was he mad?" Matthew asked in a hushed tone.
"Nah. They couldn't get through. He must have been busy helping someone." Alfred smiled slightly.
Matthew's eyebrows knit, "So… do you think they'll try again?"
"I dunno. I have lunch detention the next three days, though." The eight year old pulled a face.
"I- I'm sorry." Matthew mumbled guiltily.
"It's not your fault, Matty." Alfred promised, "That kid asked for it… Oh! Ouch!" his words turned into an exclamation as he pressed the icepack a little too firmly on his eye.
Other students glanced back and Mr. Carriedo craned his neck to look at the pair of twins, "You're not having trouble following along, are you Alfred?" he inquired mildly.
Matthew got the sinking suspicion that their teacher was well aware that they'd been talking, but he kept quiet about it.
"Er… no, Mr. Carriedo. The ice just stung my eye a little." Alfred offered sheepishly, it wasn't a complete lie.
The man nodded calmly, "Then perhaps you should give it a little break, sí?"
This time, Alfred caught on to the subliminal undertone. Mr. Carriedo had caught Matthew and him ignoring the lesson and had chosen to be merciful, letting them off with a warning.
"Yeah, okay." He replied softly and set the icepack in the corner of his desk. He didn't reach for it again until the history lesson was over.
The rest of the school day seemed to speed by from that point. The laws of time never seemed to quite do what you wanted them to. When one was in suspense, time dragged on needlessly. And of course, when one was dreading something, time happily rocketed forwards, bringing you to that thing or place you were in such fear of.
Matthew was contemplating this concept as the bus screeched to a halt at their stop. He wasn't sure if it was their good fortune or not that their uncle was not there waiting for them. He supposed his father had forgotten to tell him what time he and Alfred got home from school.
"We'll just tell Dad I tripped and fell." Alfred decided as they stepped down onto the sidewalk.
"But what about your black eye?" Matthew protested.
Despite the icepack, the swelling hadn't gotten much better. The blue of Alfred's left eye was all but a slit as it strained to stay open against the ugly bruising that had encompassed it. "I hit it on a rock?" Alfred offered.
His twin sighed exasperatedly, "I don't think he'll believe you." He pointed out. He was cradling Mr. Kumajiro in his arms. The bear's leg seemed exceptionally loose after its run-in with the bully, and this hadn't escaped Alfred's attention. It made him angry to think anyone would try to destroy something so precious and dear to his twin.
"It'll be fine, Matty." Alfred argued, "Daddy doesn't need to know what happened."
"But-" Matthew opened his mouth to rebut the statement, only to be met by the other boy's quizzical stare. He sighed, "Okay." He said softly.
The twins walked without another word through the crosswalk, only pausing when at last they reached the doorstep.
Alfred pressed the doorbell and lowered his gaze, perhaps hoping to conceal his black eye by averting eye contact.
DING-DONG!
Matthew glanced at his twin nervously as they waited, but did nothing to break the silence that had since resumed.
Thudding footsteps preceded the opening of the door.
Matthew expected the school might have called home after not reaching their father. He glanced hesitantly upwards. "Please Uncle Francis, don't be angry at Alfred. It's my fault he got in a fight… I was being picked on." He thought timidly.
Much to his surprise, the Frenchman was smiling warmly down at them. "Ah, I'm sorry! I did not realize you two would be home so soon."
"Yeah, the bus always drops us off at three. Daddy will probably be home at five." Alfred said as he scurried past his uncle. "Anyway, we've got a ton of homework, so we'll be in our room 'til dinner."
Matthew felt a little dazed as he walked inside. Didn't their uncle notice how swollen Alfred's eye was? Even if he hadn't heard about the fight, shouldn't he be concerned? He was confused.
"That is fine, but do you not have time for an afternoon snack? I would hate for the custard I prepared to go to waste." Francis said easily as he closed and locked the door.
Alfred froze in his tracks, "Vanilla custard?"
"But of course!" Francis chuckled; smile still bright in his eyes.
"Well…" Alfred seemed to consider, "Okay!"
"And should I expect Mr. Kumajiro will want some as well?" the Frenchman inquired, glancing to Matthew.
The timid boy jumped slightly, "Oh…uh, not right now. Mr. Kumajiro says he's still full from lunch… but I'll have some."
"Fair enough." Francis laughed and guided the two into the dining room where he'd set out three tantalizing bowls of creamy custard.
"It's like he doesn't notice anything's wrong." Matthew marveled as he took a seat.
Alfred seemed to be on a similar wavelength, as he'd dropped all pretenses of hiding his black eye.
Francis watched his nephews dip into their custards. "Well?"
"It's good." Came their unison reply.
"Good." The Frenchman smiled, taking a spoonful of his own. He sighed contentedly, "You know, custard is a lot like our day to day lives."
Matthew and Alfred glanced at him quizzically, clearly confused by the statement.
"Well, think about it. There is more than you see on the surface… and what's more, there is more than one way it can be made." Francis said mildly, "Sometimes it is smooth and runs by pleasantly, and other times it is thick and full."
The twins glanced at each other.
"Uncle Francis?" Alfred inquired boldly.
"The school called today." The Frenchman stated easily, calm tone never fading.
Both boys visibly flinched.
"Please don't be mad." Matthew pleaded quietly, "It wasn't Alfred's fault."
"Do not worry, mon petit. I figured there was more to the story than what I was told." Francis replied easily, lacing his fingers together, "So what do you say we sort out what happened before your father gets home so we have a calm explanation for him? Yes?"
"Okay." Alfred agreed as Matthew nodded slowly.
"Alright. Now take your time, but tell me what happened." The Frenchman encouraged.
"It was my fault." Matthew whispered remorsefully, "Alfred was just defending me."
"No, Matty. You didn't do anything wrong!" Alfred protested, whirling attention from his twin to Francis, "A mean kid took Mr. Kumajiro away from Matty and was making fun of him. He even tried to pull Mr. Kumajiro's leg off!" the eight year old exclaimed.
"That's not very nice." Francis remarked, frowning slightly as he listened.
"…It's true." Matthew admitted, "He wouldn't give Mr. Kumajiro back to me, I was so worried he'd be hurt… Then the next thing I knew, Alfred was beating the other kid up. They were fighting and hurting each other!" he whimpered timidly.
"I had to rescue Kuma for ya, Matty. There was no way I was going to let that bully tear him apart." Alfred declared.
"But you could have been really hurt… and it would have been my fault." Matthew whispered sadly.
"But Matty…" Alfred trailed off, not quite sure what to say.
"I see… I see." Francis murmured and then cleared his throat purposefully, "Well, I think perhaps the most important thing to remember is that no one did get seriously hurt. No?"
"I guess so…" Matthew agreed slowly.
"Then try not to dwell too much on what could have been, mon petit." The Frenchman said softly, "And Alfred?"
"Yes?"
"I think some ibuprofen and an ice pack will help take down the swelling in that eye." Francis said mildly.
"Oh, yeah, the nurse gave me an icepack at school." Alfred nodded.
"Well, another one couldn't hurt." Francis mused as he stood from his seat.
Whilst Alfred moved to follow his uncle, Matthew still remained seated, contemplative almost.
The Frenchman frowned sympathetically, "Matthew?"
"Hmm?" the boy looked up, violet eyes delicate, yet curious.
"Remind me after dinner tonight, and we'll see if I cannot strengthen Mr. Kumajiro's injured leg." Francis said, blue eyes gently locking with his nephew's.
"Okay." Matthew nodded quietly, "Mr. Kumajiro and I are going to go get started on our homework now." He decided, leaving a half-eaten bowl of custard behind as he headed for the stairs.
"I'll be right up, Matty!" Alfred promised.
"Sure." The soft voice echoed in reply, amplified by the acoustics only a wooden stairwell could offer.
Alfred frowned. Why did Matthew have to blame himself? It wasn't right. As the stronger brother, he felt a need to protect his shy twin. It was what he was supposed to do. He wished for a long moment that his mother was there. She always seemed to know how to make things better. He sighed. How could he show Matthew that things really were alright?
"Alfred." Francis broke through his confusion, extending a pair of tablets and a glass of water down to him.
"Thanks." He murmured, downing the ibuprofen.
"You know," the Frenchman said as he strode to the refrigerator, "He probably just needs some time."
"Huh?" Alfred blinked, perplexed.
"Matthew. Watching a fight from the sidelines can be scarier than you would think. Just give him some time to calm down." Francis replied gently as he worked at preparing a make-shift ice pack.
"But how long will that take?" Alfred wondered.
"Well now," Francis said slowly as he finished his task, "I suppose that depends on you. Just try not to push him." He said, holding out the cold compress.
Taking the ice pack carefully, Alfred made a beeline for the stairs. He hoped Uncle Francis knew what he was talking about.
Relative silence consumed the house's lower level as Francis busied himself with tidying up the dining room, and ultimately, beginning dinner plans.
Then, at roughly five o'clock the rustling of keys and creaking of the front door announced Arthur's return long before he set foot in the hallway.
Francis turned the stove burners down, preparing to keep the food from burning whilst he had an imminent confrontation with the Englishman. He wondered if Arthur was in an understanding mood.
Surprisingly, it took the head of the household a bit longer than expected to amble into the kitchen. Francis could only conclude that seeing as he was sans portfolio; he must have made a brief stop by his study.
Arthur let loose a deep, tired sigh as he tousled his messy bangs, "What an incredibly long day." He murmured.
"Oh?" the Frenchman inquired, feigning interest in the topic.
"It seemed like every bloody person in town showed up today asking for a loan." The Englishman elaborated, "Some people don't seem to comprehend that having a good credit score is essential. To be frank, most of them really don't even want to hear it."
"I assume that is nothing new?" Francis mused lightly.
"Hardly." Arthur confirmed with a mild scoff, "Anyhow, how did things go today? The boys are home, I assume?"
"And here we go." Francis braced himself, "Oui. They are upstairs, doing their homework as we speak… However, there was one little thing that happened today…"
"I'm listening." The Englishman arched an eyebrow.
"Well, you see, how shall I put this?" Francis wondered.
"Out with it, Frog." Arthur said in a warning tone, feeling increasingly suspicious.
"Another child stole Matthew's teddy bear, so Alfred… not so subtly… started a fist fight and got sent to the principal's office." Francis informed.
All at once, he saw Arthur's face color deeply, green eyes widening in a mix of surprise and anger, "What?! You're telling me that Alfred got in a fight?! Why was I not informed? Is he injured?"
"Calm down, mon ami!" Francis held up his palms in a gesture of surrender, "Apart from a black eye, Alfred is perfectly fine." He assured.
The Englishman put a hand to his temples in an effort to will himself to calm down, "In any case," he ground out, voice barely a few notches below his initial outburst, "Why didn't someone call me at work to let me know?" he demanded.
"You didn't answer." Francis stated pointedly.
Arthur froze, as if he didn't quite believe his ears, "I what?"
"The school tried to call you about what happened, and to inform you that Alfred would be serving lunch detention the next few days, but for whatever reason, you didn't pick up. That is why they called here." Francis elaborated.
Suddenly, Arthur's color drained in realization. The phone had rung earlier, come to think of it. However, he'd been so busy with clients that he'd simply allowed it to go to his answering machine. He'd figured that if it was important, someone would leave a message. Alas, when he had finally found a free moment, there was nothing to listen to, so he'd written it off and forgotten all about it.
"Ah." Was all he could find to say in that moment, anger squelched by embarrassment.
"Do not worry, mon ami." Francis said easily, turning the burner back up a few notches, "I plan to have a talk with Matthew after dinner."
Arthur eyed him uneasily, "Don't tell me he got involved in the fight as well."
"Non. Of course not." The Frenchman said hurriedly.
"Good." Arthur sighed, "Having to lecture one twin about fighting is bad enough."
"So you plan to talk to Alfred about this then?" Francis inquired.
"I'm his father." Arthur huffed, "It's my place to make sure that he knows what is and isn't acceptable."
"That is true." Francis agreed, stirring a pot of something steaming.
"What about you? What have you got to say to Matthew? It sounds like he was merely a victim in all this." The Englishman queried.
"I think, perhaps, I can give him some advice that will help him not be a victim so much." Francis replied easily.
"You?" Arthur cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. "From what Yvette told me, I gather you were quite the 'victim' yourself when you were a lad."
"Then I can speak from experience." Francis said evenly.
"Alright, alright. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt then." Arthur conceded, still feeling mildly apprehensive about what Francis planned to say.
Author's Note:
I'm alive and I'm back! I'm so sorry it took me this long to update, everyone! First I lacked the inspiration, then I got into other series, and then I lacked the quiet time to compose my thoughts- the list of excuses goes on. The point is, I missed this story and I felt bad for effectively leaving the followers of it hanging. Please forgive me. *Grovels* I don't know how frequent updates will be, but I'm going to try and keep myself motivated by working on this in conjunction with another fic… We'll see how well it works out.
In any case, heart to heart conversations to be had next chapter. =3 In planning, they were a part of this chapter. However, as the gears in my head started turning, this in itself has already transformed into a decently long chapter… So I've elected to save the 'FEELS' for next time. *nervous laugh*
Reviews make me happy and I hope to see you all soon in Chapter 5.