I'm trying to make Marie and Jack a bit weird (because honestly, you've got to have weird parents if they name you Alfred Fucking Jones) and I tried basing their personalities on multiple people at once. Marie is a combination of Star from Star vs. and Wendy from Gravity Falls, as well as Amethyst from Steven Universe and Luna from Harry Potter. Unfortunately this has made me read everything Marie says in Star's voice and it cracks me up. Jack is based off Greg Universe from Steven Universe, and a bit of Jake from Adventure Time (in the way that he is irresponsible). There might also be mild Jake English in his character. Basically I'm as uncreative as fuck and I'm letting you guys know that. Kk bye
Matthew was already having a bad day.
Waking up and glancing at his phone screen, seeing a few mixed texts, but unable to look at them, in case one of them was from Gilbert. He wasn't trying to avoid him, or be so rude, but he honestly felt as if he was missing something, an important puzzle piece, a certain part of a math equation. Breakfast was the same as always-slightly burnt pancakes that he's grown too used to.
"Cheer up, Mattie," Marie sang, dropping two pancakes onto his plate, "I'm sure everything is fi-ii-ne!"
"Indeed," Jack agreed with his wife, spreading butter on his newspaper. Like, who even reads the newspaper anymore? But Marie and Jack Jones were eccentric and strange in many ways, and having their children call them by their first names was just the tip of the weird pile.
Alfred, however, was in disagreement with his parents.
"I don't trust Gilbert," he said, maple syrup dribbling down his chin a bit, "He's a bit shady, if you ask me."
"But nobody did, Al," Jack smiled.
"Burn," Marie said, throwing a pancake at his face. Alfred caught in his mouth, but the flying pancake had sprayed Matthew with syrup in the process.
"I'm going to go take a shower," Matthew grumbled, the feeling of thick syrupy sweetness in his hair not very pleasant.
Over and over again, he reached for his phone, but over and over again, he decided against it. What was making him feel this way? That something was horribly wrong and Gilbert wasn't telling him a big part of his life?
It's weird, Matthew thought, Because I've told Gil so much about Al and I but I don't know so much about him either.
I mean, sure, he knew of he and his friends and their antics, and how much he loved Ludwig, and despised Elizabeta for 'stealing' Roderich, and that he didn't really care much for his grandfather, and that his parents were dead, but what did Matthew really know? He didn't even know where Gilbert went to school for Pete's sake!
And isn't Gilbert from Germany? Didn't his parents die in Germany? How could they possibly be buried in Britain?
Maybe he's lied to you this whole time, a snide and nasty voice echoed in his mind, Maybe there was a different reason he broke up with Roderich. Maybe Gilbert was crazy.
You're insane, Matthew spat back angrily, but it wasn't until he noticed Alfred staring at him did he realize he had said this out loud.
"Yo," Alfred said awkwardly, and Matthew tosses his phone aside, definitely not going to check any messages of any sort with his twin around.
"Yo," Matthew responded half-heartedly. He hoped Alfred would be too immersed in watching TV to bother him, but to his dismay, Alfred scooted closer to him, pausing the TV.
"What's the matter, Matthew?" Alfred asked, voice full of concern, "You're not any fun today. I had five hamburgers in a row and you didn't even challenge me to an eating contest."
"I'm not in the mood today, Alfred," Matthew pushed Alfred away from him, adjusting himself so he was sitting Indian style on the couch, "I just...I...I don't know, Al. Not today."
"Well...Is it...You know," Alfred tapped Matthew's chest, and Matthew got the message. He shook his head, but his twin raised an eyebrow suspiciously.
"No, Alfred," Matthew said quickly, "God no, my chest….No, I'm breathing just fine, okay? You don't have to be worried about me."
Alfred gave him a skeptical look.
"I'm fine," Matthew's voice faltered. "On second thought, no, I'm not fine."
"Is it Doucheface?" Alfred asked, cocking his head to the side. Matthew blinked.
"Do you mean Gilbert?"
"Yeah, him," Alfred said, tossing the remote aside and nestling more comfortably into the couch. Jack's off-key singing could be heard throughout the house. Lowering his voice as if not to be heard, Alfred said,
"Mattie, I don't trust him. He acted really weird."
"I know he did," Matthew said weakly, "But I'm sure that there's a reason for it all, you know, a logical explanation…"
"And I've been thinkin'," Alfred said, as if Matthew hadn't spoken, "You said his parents died in Germany, right? Well, how could he have been at a cemetery or whatever, or wherever they're buried, if they're dead in Germany? Like, a lot dead? They can't be a little dead and then die a lot in Britain, right?"
"You've lost me," Matthew deadpanned.
"Look, I'm just saying, if I were you, I'd break up with Gilbert," Alfred said with a shrug, before reaching for the remote again. Matthew must have looked as scandalized as he felt, because Alfred said quickly, "Of course, that's the easier solution, but you could, you know, demand an answer out of him and don't leave him alone until he tells the truth and shit."
"Al, that might have been the smartest thing you've ever said," Matthew rolled his eyes.
"Calm the fuck down and get off your high and mighty horse," Alfred shot back, "In case you've forgotten, I currently have a an A* and you have a B. Calm the fuck down."
Matthew did consider Alfred's suggestions over and over again, wondering if he should really break up with Gilbert. I mean, it was so stupid. He shouldn't just break up with someone in case they lied about a few things...There must have been a good reason to do so, right? Gilbert was a good person at times, Matthew said to himself, but the nasty voice at the back of his head begged to differ.
But what if he lied because he had been covering up something really bad? What if Gilbert did something to warrant jail time?
It was killing him. Just pick up the goddamn phone!, he screamed at himself, though this time in his head, and he grabbed his phone and began putting in his password, before stopping himself and flinging it across the room.
Oh, this was so stupid! If Gilbert wanted to talk to him about things, he could do it himself, Matthew wasn't about to force himself onto Gilbert with a subject he maybe didn't want to discuss right now.
Or possibly he's never going to talk about it, and keep leading you in the dark, the nasty voice in his head hissed, once a liar, always a liar.
Shut up, you sodding turd testicle, Matthew hissed back.
Fortunately, Matthew doesn't have to be the one to call.
Unfortunately, when Gilbert does, Matthew just wishes he never did, and he could go to sleep and wake up and forget everything, especially the fact that a boy named Gilbert Beilschmidt existed.
In the kitchen and pouring himself a glass of apple juice, balancing a plate of peanut butter and jelly in his hands, his phone suddenly rang, before abruptly cutting off. Raising an eyebrow, Matthew picked up his phone, but the screen lit up again, before stopping again. Well, that was strange.
He sat himself down on top of the breakfast table, watching his phone screen light up and then stop again for a few minutes, chewing on his sandwich. Finally, it lit up again, and stayed lit, for several seconds. Sighing, Matthew picked up his phone and put in his password, before catching a glimpse of who was calling. Well of fucking course, it was Gilbert.
Pressing the green 'answer' button, Matthew held the phone to his ear and said,
"Hello?"
Best just start light and casual, and hoped it stayed that way.
But then Gilbert's voice was spilling in his ear, high-pitched, panicked.
"I'm so so sorry," He said, and his voice was that high-pitched strained sound that people made before crying, or holding back tears or whatever. A high pitched voice that he had come to associate with someone who'd just done something very very bad, and was not handling it very well.
"I'm sorry, Birdie, I'm sorry, I just, everything is my fault, and I'm so so stupid and I should have told you everything sooner, and I don't think we should date anymore because Mattie you're a good person and and-" Gilbert's voice stopped, and for a fateful moment Matthew feared Gilbert had stopped breathing. He didn't even notice that he had dropped his glass of apple juice on the ground. Then Gilbert's breathing sounded, but this time, it was like dry heaving.
"Gilbert," Matthew said, and was startled to hear that his own voice was deadly calm, flat and toneless even, "Gilbert, I don't think we should talk about this now. Not here. On the phone."
He thought Gilbert might not even have heard him over his own breathing, but then he said,
"Yeah, yeah of course, no I'm sorry, I'm sorry Matthew, I'm a stupid person, I'm sorry."
Matthew wasn't sure what was going on, but he slid off the table (avoiding the glass, mind you) before putting on his coat, absently fiddling with the buttons.
"Gilbert? You still there?" Matthew asked, concern nagging at the back of his mind, but his current state of emotion prevented him from feeling anything but numb right now.
Gilbert doesn't respond. He's silent. Matthew fears once again that he's stopped breathing. Then Gilbert says,
"Meet me. Across the street from Big Ben."
Matthew's breath catches in his throat, and he closes his eyes, having to ask that one question.
"Why?" His voice catches along with his breath, and he swallows, before breathing out, "What did you do, Gilbert?"
Gilbert's voice hitches. It catches, and then he breathes out, in a short gasp.
"I'm a bad person, Matthew," His voice is shaky, strained, "I'm such a bad person."
Okay but the real bad person here is me follow if u agree and reviews are warmly appreciated okay