When Matthew told Alfred everything, Alfred wasn't surprised, or impressed. Really? That was everything? The big bad secret? Why he was acting like a douchewaffle? Personally, Alfred didn't see what the big deal was, but Matthew looked upset.
"I think he wants us to break up," Matthew said worriedly, rubbing his face with his palms tiredly. It was currently almost midnight, and Matthew was curled up on the couch with hot chocolate in his hands a sad look on his face.
"Good," Alfred said, tossing aside his phone as he scanned his twin. Everybody assumed they were polar opposites, but it wasn't true. Matthew could be just as impulsive as Alfred could be, and Alfred could be just as calculating as Matthew could be. They were different in many ways, so many that some people liked to view them as separate people entirely, and not as the entity they truly were, not as family. It ticked Alfred off.
He could read Matthew like a book, decipher his words easily, and be everything Matthew was. But he didn't want to be. He wanted to be Alfred, and he wanted to be Matthew's brother, and he's going to care for him like a brother should.
So Alfred started off with,
"Matt, don't you ever think that maybe…"
But now Matthew was looking at him, and Alfred suddenly found it a lot harder to tell his twin what was truly on his mind. Alfred took a deep breath, and said,
"You...Hardly know Gilbert, Matthew."
Matthew's eyes clouded, and he shook his head rapidly.
"I know tons about him," Matthew said, clutching the hot chocolate to his chest, "Like...Like, he was born in Germany! And he had an ex boyfriend! His family was rich!"
Alfred shook his head. It was simple stuff, nothing deep at all. How long had Matthew and Gilbert even known each other? Alfred rubbed his face. Ugh. How was he supposed to save his brother if he wouldn't listen to reason?
"Dude, I know I ain't the most sensible person, but don't you think this is all rushed? I think that Gilbert guy is bad for you!" Alfred sat up as Matthew gave him an offended look, but Alfred didn't care. He was going to say exactly what was on his mind.
"What he does affects you, too! He gets upset, and now you're upset! This is a big thing, Mattie, and who says he hasn't hidden more stuff? It sounds highly, highly suspicious to me," Alfred went on, "You hardly know him. He hardly knows you. You've met each other in person, like what, three times? And only one time has gone right. Mattie, Gilbert is-"
"Shut up!" Matthew shouted over Alfred's voice, before slamming the cup of hot chocolate on the side table, getting to his feet, and marching out of the room.
There was an echoing silence as Matthew slammed his bedroom door.
The twins hadn't shared a bedroom since they were fourteen.
For some reason, this fact seemed to really hurt Alfred now, as he couldn't demand that Mattie open the door. Well, he could always use brute strength, but he felt as if maybe Jack and Marie wouldn't be so lenient the fourth time Alfred's done that.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding.
Ding….
Alfred counted them.
Twelve in total.
Midnight.
The blond teen sat back in his chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. He hadn't managed to accomplish anything, except maybe piss Matthew off. Ugh, this was so awful and confusing. Why couldn't Alfred be in the wrong here? That's how it always was. Alfred wasn't used to the roles being reversed.
So he decided that maybe he should call for some help.
Gilbert entered the dorm room and didn't know what he was expecting, but certainly not this.
"Agh! Put some clothes on!"
"Sorry, amigo," Toni's voice said, and Gilbert heard shuffling as he continued to cover his eyes, "We only made out, I promise."
"Which is why you're fuckin' naked, right?"
"We just made out, you fucking white bastard, now fucking go away."
"This is my dorm, Vargas. Could you not?"
When Lovino was successfully ushered out of the room (with Antonio pecking many kisses to Lovino's annoyed face), Gilbert sat down on his bed and allowed himself to unwind.
He had managed to calm down his racing heart and mind on the way home, and was now just tired. He let his limp limbs relax onto the soft bed, and would have nearly fallen asleep in his hood, scarf, and wet boots if Antonio hadn't roughly shaken him.
"Get up," Antonio said, and there wasn't any trace of his normal calm happiness in his voice. With a groan, Gilbert dragged himself into a sitting position.
"Not awesome," He sighed, kicking his boots off as he did so, "Not. I want to go to sleep, man. And where's Franny?"
Antonio had his shirt off and only a pair of jeans, and if he was on the market, Gilbert would have willingly allowed his eyes to take in all of Antonio's muscle hungrily, but now it just made him feel guilty and wrong.
"Franny is out tonight," Antonio said simply, before plopping down next to Gilbert with a long sigh. The Spaniard and the German sat together in long silence, before Antonio said,
"You're stupid."
Gilbert blinked in surprise, staring ludicrously at his friend, because if Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was telling you that you were stupid, you must have done something major to fuck up this badly.
"Why-" Gilbert began, but Antonio shook his head rapidly.
"No, no, don't start, puta, because I'm actually very angry," Antonio said, Spanish accent thickening, and somewhere in the back of Gilbert's mind, the idea that Antonio was actually very, very good looking tickled his consciousness.
"You're an idiot because you're letting Matthew get hurt by your own actions," Antonio said, and his voice was strong, but his eyes were soft, as if he felt bad for Gilbert, and Gilbert suddenly felt angry at his friend for giving him that look.
"I'm not letting him get hurt from my actions," Gilbert growled, "I'm protecting him."
"What have you told him?" Antonio asked, raising an eyebrow, and Gilbert paled at the cold and searching look he was being given.
"All of it," Gilbert lied, and Antonio stared at him suspiciously. Gilbert has lied many times before, what makes this time different…?
And thankfully, Antonio decided he wasn't lying, because he relaxed a bit.
"Mi amigo, you have to actually talk to him," Antonio explained, "All I did was ignore Alfonso two years ago, and I shouldn't have, after everything we've been through."
"But Alfonso's your brother," Gilbert argued, "This is different."
Antonio pursed his lips, almost into a pout, and once again, Gilbert found himself again thinking that Antonio was very good looking, and so was Francis. Gilbert felt like an ugly doll next to him, a leech, a parasite, sucking up all of his friend's emotions and patience, until he was full to the brim with them and allowed them to overspill and wash them away.
"I think you need to talk to Matthew," Antonio said, looking Gilbert in the eyes. Green locked on red, and Gilbert was almost surprised by how serious they looked, but not quite. Antonio could be very, very serious if he wanted to...This, he and Franny had learned years ago.
"When you talk things over, you won't be letting Matthew suffer anymore, and you'll be at peace of mind," Antonio clasped Gilbert's hand in his own, and smiled at him, and the light warmed his eyes. Gilbert nodded, before leaning over and gently pecking his friend's lips.
It didn't make anything weird between them, because Gilbert still loved Matthew and Antonio still loved Lovino, but for a moment Gilbert wondered how in the hell a scumbag like him ended up with some like Antonio Fernandez Carriedo as one of his best friends.
"Okay then," Arthur said, locking eyes with Alfred, "You're sure he'll listen?"
"Of course," Alfred said encouragingly, eyes bright, "You're a lot better at wording things than I am! And you agree with me, right?"
Arthur crossed his arms and leaned all his weight onto one foot, which Alfred found hot, but not as hot as his clothes. A very mixed fashion style that worked only for Arthur-black skinny jeans that hugged his legs comfortably, a gray windbreaker, and a plain blue T-shirt that Arthur had once (drunkenly) agreed to let Alfred doodle on. The shirt had sharpie designs of stars, hamburgers, motorcycles, and teddy bears. Alfred liked to think he did a good job. Arthur said it was atrocious, but he still wore it anyways.
"I agree with you," Arthur said carefully, "But I don't agree with…"
His voice trailed off, before he shook his head, and Alfred took Arthur's hand and tried squeezing it in encouragement, but apparently he did it too hard, because Arthur flinched and withdrew his hand.
"Let's do it, if we're going to, then," Arthur said, and the look on his face screamed that he didn't want to do this. Approaching Matthew's closed bedroom door, the two blonds leaned against it, listening for any signs of life. Arthur knocked gently, but received no response. Alfred leaned over and knocked harder and louder, but still no response.
"Maybe the door is un-Gotcha," Arthur said, and the door opened easily. Matthew lay on his bed, headphones on and staring blankly at the screen of his computer, which had bubbles floating around on the desktop.
He noticed them and sat up, sliding his headphones off and giving them a bleary glare.
"Whatcha listenin' to?" Alfred asked, trying to keep up a friendly atmosphere.
"Screamo," Matthew deadpanned.
"Okay then, that's the end of that," Alfred turned around and cleared some stuff off of Matthew's desk chair before sitting on it, facing his twin. Arthur fidgeted, and apparently couldn't decided whether to sit on the floor or the bed, because he settled for leaning awkwardly on the desk.
"So...Matthew," Arthur began slowly, crossing his arms, "I see...That you...Redecorated."
It was a lame way to start the conversation, and it was apparently ticking Matthew off, because his jaw worked silently and furiously, as if chomping on imaginary metal gum.
"Anyway," Arthur continued on quickly, tone suddenly a bit brisker, "Matthew, I'm going to put it to you simply...You hardly know Gilbert. He might drop another bombshell on you. Who says he's really who he says he is? We're concerned for you. You're not acting like yourself. I think you oughtta call Gilbert and settle all this shit with him like the adult you're about to be."
"What?!" Alfred cried, staring at Arthur, because this certainly wasn't what he had in mind when he called Arthur to talk to Matthew, but Arthur didn't look at him. He was focused entirely on Matthew.
After a pause of silence, Matthew sighed and looked down at his phone, which lay on his desk.
"I...I guess I should," He said, voice trailing off, and Arthur looked satisfied. Alfred suddenly realized that Arthur was very dangerous when talking, which was probably why he had called him in the first place. He had just made Matthew get off his ass and do something (whether Alfred agreed with it or not) when all Matthew had done the past few days is sulk.
He was dangerous. Alfred liked dangerous. Feisty.
But not when it didn't work in his favor.
"No, Matthew, I don't think you should," Alfred said forcefully, pouring every ounce of worry he could into his voice, "I'm concerned for you. I think Gilbert might be trouble."
"I told you the same thing when you started dating Arthur," Matthew sneered, and that shut Alfred up. Arthur didn't look too offended, but he did fidget awkwardly.
"Gilbert is different," Alfred said, getting to his feet, "He's more...More dangerous, Matthew. He's got this...This aura-"
"Alfred Fucking Jones, you shut the fuck up and let me do this!" Matthew spat at his twin, "Gilbert is perfectly okay! He is, okay? He just got scared!"
"Of what?" Alfred asked, throwing his hands up in the air, "I can understand PTSD, man, you know that I understand PTSD, I get it, but, to this level where it's affecting you-"
"It's my choice, Al," Matthew said, reaching for his phone, but Alfred quickly grabbed one of Matthew's notebooks and flung it at his twin.
It bounced off of Matthew's shoulder, and Matthew fixed him with a glare. The silence was thick and tense. Arthur's eyes were wide and his mouth was open in shock. Alfred had the feeling that Matthew wanted to punch him, but at that moment, the doorbell rang, and Arthur said,
"I'll get it!"
Jesus lord, these two. Arthur was going to get gray hairs before the age of twenty four and that didn't sound attractive at all. Excusing himself from that room was the smartest decision to make, as he could practically feel the angry energy radiating off the both of them.
Why did he stick with these people? Alfred was a great boyfriend, truly, but this family started too much damn drama. Three years dating Alfred and being with them, and yet Arthur still wasn't used to it. Sure, he had his punk phase, that dark period of time between the ages fourteen and twenty, even dating Alfred when he turned twenty was a regret on his life, but he's changed himself since then! He's a good (ish) person now, and Marie and Jack welcome him with open arms! But this Gilbert guy… Arthur had a very eerie feeling about him.
It's not like you can complain about a family causing too much drama, Artie, an annoying voice said at the back of his head, You're a fucking Kirkland, for crying out loud.
Shut up, nobody's talking to you, Arthur shot back.
Admiring the family's living room as he picked his way through it in the dark, Arthur heard the doorbell ring once again, and he wondered who on Earth could be here at one in the morning and what they could possibly want.
Opening the door, Arthur was faced was a strange teenager with a shock of white hair stuffed hastily in a black beanie, a neon pink scarf, and a good three inches taller than him.
"Hi," He said in a lightly accented voice, scanning Arthur with a confused look, "Uh, I have the right house, right?"
"Let me guess," Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes, "You're Gilbert, aren't you?"
"I am," Gilbert said, but a sudden shout of anger from the floor above caused both men to look up, eyebrows drawing in concern.
"My name is Arthur," Arthur told the albino, "Proper greetings can wait. For now, I've got to separate two idiots before they murder each other."
I'm sorry I was half asleep writing this but we got Arthur so? Yay?
DID I WRITE ARTHUR OKAY I'M NOT USED TO WRITING ENGLAND I APOLOGIZE
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