"Get. Out."
"Dad, wait! Its not-"
A sharp sound of shattering porcelain as his father throws the mug he had been holding.
"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"
"Dad , please! I didnt- I wasn't-"
And Dad looks at him like he's a monster, disgusted and afraid.
"What did you do to Mathew?"
A question that doesn't even make sense, because Mathew - Oh. Suddenly Alfred understands. And Dad looks at him like he's disgusting, like watching gay porn makes him dangerous, like just by being gay, Alfred is a danger to his little brother. Like Alfred is a fucking pedophile, who would sexually abuse his own fucking brother. Alfred doesn't know what hurts more - the anger or the smart of betrayal. He draws himself up to his full height (since when was he the same height as Dad?) and spits his response like a cobra spits venom.
"I would never touch Mattie!"
And he can see the words bounce off the guard his Dad has put up, like water running off a duck's back. Dad isn't hearing his words. He's not seeing Alfred.
"Get out, and don't you ever dare come back here again." Dad's voice shakes as he speaks. "And if you ever come near Mathew again, I'll call the cops."
"The cops? What the fuck, Dad?"
Dad levels Alfred with a look Alfred's never been on the receiving end of before. A look of pure hatred.
"The only reason that I'm not calling them now is because you are my son. Because I love you. But if you test me-"
Arthur takes a taunt step forwards, and despite himself, Alfred takes a step back.
"I won't hesitate, Alfred."
And he feels chills in his skin, because he knows Dad means it.
"Are you serious?" His voice is breaking, trembling in a different way than his Dad's. "You'd kick out your son just for being gay?"
Dad's eyes are wet, which is unfair, because Dad is the one doing this, Alfred should be the one crying, not Dad. Dad raises his chin.
"Leave. Don't make me get my gun."
Alfie?
What's going on?
Dad said you left?
Did you fight again?
Mathew's first texts come pouring in at 4.
Dad says I'm not supposed to talk to you anymore?
Alfie, what did you DO?
Alfred wishes he could be shocked when he finds out his dad has spun the web of lies to make it so Alfred's the traitor, the one who fought with his father and stormed out, saying he never wanted to see his father ever again.
Do you really hate us?
What did I do?
Saying he never wanted to see his brother ever again. He's not. And somehow that hurts worse.
Mattie
He's lying! Dad kicked me out!
Unfortunately, there's a flaw in Dad's plan. Mathew believes in Alfred more than he believes in Dad. He reaches out, even when Dad forbids it. And Alfred tells Mathew everything.
Be careful, Mattie.
And when you need help
Call me
I'll definitely come save you.
And Alfred makes a promise, not just to his brother, but to the whole universe. Even if he's not home, Alfred will keep Mathew safe, no matter what.
"Hey, Al? Don't take this the wrong way, you know my family loves you, but Dad's wondering how long you are gonna stay? It's just, it's been almost a month."
The awkward words a friend speaks that let Alfred know it's time to go again. He forces a smile on his face.
"Actually, I was gonna leave tomorrow! I know it's been a long time and I kinda overstayed! So I thought I should move on!"
Young Soo shifts from foot to foot, looking embarrassed.
"Sorry, Al, you know I don't want you to leave, and with your whole situation... But Dad's getting suspicious."
A part of Alfred wonders if everything would be solved if he just told Mr. Wang the truth. But then he would need to tell them why he got kicked out, and then...
It's better this way, anyways.
"No worries bro! Thanks for letting me hang!"
Young Soo doesn't seem reassured.
"You have somewhere to go, right?"
"Of course!"
He doesn't. Even his most tolerant friends have their limits, and Alfred's slowly worn them out. There's only so long he can stay over before people start getting suspicious. At least Young Soo wasn't subtly hinting he make up with his Dad and go home, like Kyle had. Not that Alfred blames Kyle. After all, his friends just think he ran away from home, they don't know he can't go back, even if he wants too.
Alfred doesn't know if he would go back, even if he could.
Alfie?
You okay?
Miss you
Miss you too
How are things?
Bad
I wish you were here.
Me too
Do you have your own place yet?
Working on it
I want to come live with you
I know.
Alfred doesn't know how to be a big brother when he can't even take care of himself. He pulls his blanket tighter around himself and sneezes. The temperature is getting colder, and it's only going to get worse.
"Hey."
Alfred wakes up to the gentle nudge of a foot to his ribs.
"You alive?"
In an instant he's awake, on his feet, bags gathered and ready to run... Or fight. He's only been sleeping on the streets for a few weeks, but he's already learned the rules of survival the hard way. That duffle isn't just his belongings, it's his lifeline, and he can't lose it to anyone.
The person who'd nudged him jumps back, palms up to display peace.
"Whoa, there! I was just making sure there wasn't a corpse next to my garbage bin!"
The stranger has hair that is shockingly white. It takes Alfred a second to meet his eyes, too busy scanning for danger, but when he does, they're pink, almost red. Combined with the beaded bracelet, lip piercing, and silver chain, Alfred figures him out in a second. He's met a lot of this type, he knows how they act. He relaxes, the smallest bit. Punks are usually okay.
"Fuck off."
He never used to be this cold and wary, but homelessness does that to a person. The Stranger raises an eyebrow, but regrettably, does not fuck off.
"Jesus, kid, how old are you?"
Alfred's sixteen, not even close to turning seventeen. He doesn't tell the stranger that though.
"Eighteen."
The stranger makes a noise that suggests he doesn't believe him, and looks skeptically at the cardboard shelter Alfred had clumsily put together between the trash bins and the fence.
"This is where you're gonna sleep? Tonight?"
Alfred bristles, warily.
"I can move."
The stranger sighs, like Alfred's somehow failed a test he didn't know he was taking.
"It's gonna be cold tonight, kid. Negative twenties. You'll freeze to death."
Alfred's been worrying about that too, the sudden temperature drop has been hard on him recently, but so far he's managed to avoid the worst of it by tucking into sheds or abandoned houses, or any enclosed space he could. But negative twenty was a big drop, even colder than it's been recently, and Alfred isn't prepared for it.
Maybe, if it's just for the night, one of his friends will let him stay.
He squares his shoulders.
"No I won't."
The stranger remains unimpressed.
"You got somewhere to go?"
Alfred doesn't answer. Recent times have erased the trust in adults kids his age should have, and the innocent Alfred who could ask for help is long gone.
"You know how to paint?"
An absurd question out of the blue. So absurd Alfred actually answers, warily.
"No?"
The stranger snorts.
"You really don't know how to read the room, huh?" He shakes his head. "I'm offering you a place to sleep tonight, if you'll work for it."
He's not the first adult to have done that, and Alfred hisses the words.
"I'm not a prostitute!"
The stranger just shakes his head again, like Alfred's a child asking dumb questions.
"Not that kind of work, brat! I have a little brother about your age, I'm not into kids. I paint homes for a living, and I could use an assistant."
Warily, Alfred eyes him. It's a lie, of course, it has to be. No one does anything for no reason, and no adult helps a kid. But the stranger doesn't know Alfred's a minor, and it's going to be a cold night and Alfred's already so cold he can't feel his toes and his fingers throb, and he's got nowhere to go.
Besides, Alfred was the ace of the rugby team, back when he was in school. He can take the guy, if he needs to. He shifts, lowering his guard slightly.
"I'm a fast learner."
The stranger makes a strange kind of smirk, like he's trying not to laugh as he responds.
"So you do catch on...eventually. Got a name?"
"Alfred."
"I'm Gilbert. Gil for short. Looking forward to working with you."
Alfred shakes the offered hand and this time, Gilbert does laugh, a snickering sort of chuckle as he turns away.
"This way, brat."
And even though Alfred knows it's a bad idea, he follows.
Got a job
Working as an assistant to a painter
Seriously?
Congrats!
Saving up for my own place
Are you close?
Not really...
Soon tho
I hope so...
Dad's getting real bad, Alfie..
Im scared.
"So," Gilbert asks through a mouthful of Pizza, "how old are you actually?"
Alfred freezes with his own slice of pizza halfway to his mouth.
"I told you, eighteen."
Gilbert, with all the mature and dignified graces of an adult, makes a derisive noise and responds through a mouthful of pizza.
"Yeah, no you're not. I told you my little brother is about your age. So how old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?"
Alfred chooses to avoid answering by shoving an entire slice of pizza into his mouth and chewing obnoxiously loudly. Gilbert sighs.
"Listen, if you're gonna live here and work with me, I'm gonna need you to level with me, okay?"
Alfred scowls and takes his sweet time chewing. Gilbert waits patiently, languidly eating his own pizza like he doesn't have a care in the world. Finally, when he can't put it off any longer, Alfred speaks.
"I can leave."
Gilbert nods.
"I mean, If you want to. But you don't have anywhere to go, so just live here, and work for me."
He didn't even mean to stay this long, but Gilbert has a way of saying the harsh truth in such a blunt way it's actually persuasive. He's right. Alfred has nowhere and no one to go to. And for some reason, Gilbert's been happy to lend him his living room to sleep in, and to Alfred's surprise, he actually did hire Alfred as his assistant, and even pays him too.
Honestly, Alfred's better off with Gilbert than any time before.
But that's all pointless if Gilbert reports him to someone.
Gilbert seems to sense his thought and says, "I know what you're worried about, but I'm not about that. I'm not gonna call the cops or your parents or whatever, I just wanna know."
And what option does Alfred even have?
"I'm sixteen."
Gilbert doesn't react to the admission except for a sage nod, like he's known all along.
"A year younger than my brother then." He takes a long slurp of his drink. "How'd you end up here?"
He's not talking about how Alfred ended up in Gilbert's place, and Alfred knows it.
For a second he's tempted to be a brat, and say something like "I walked" or "None of your business" but he doesn't. No one knows the true story, not even his friends.
Not even his Dad.
And Alfred is itching to tell it.
So he does.
Whatcha up to?
(Message not delivered)
Mathew must have blocked him again. It was Alfred's idea, to stop Dad from knowing they're still in touch, so that he won't find any messages when he goes through Mathew's phone. Mathew replies ten minutes later.
Sorry, Dad had my phone.
Again
It's happening more often
I think he's looking for something
He won't find anything
Right?
Im not stupid
I know. Just be careful, okay.
I am
Alfred wishes he could trust his little brother, no, he does trust his brother, but he remembers going through puberty for the first time, and the unbearable horniness that came with it. And Mathew started even earlier than him. And all it takes is one mistake -
Alfred shudders at the thought of his father finding out, blowing up at Mathew, throwing his little brother out on the cold streets. Mathew's not like Alfred. He's younger, he's more passive and introverted, he doesn't have as many friends he could go to, and he might not have the luck to meet an adult like Gilbert. His brother wouldn't survive on the streets.
And Alfred won't let him end up there.
"Nice job." Gilbert approves as he inspects Alfred's handiwork. "At this rate, I don't think I can keep you on as an assistant anymore."
And Alfred's blood goes cold. It's hard to find a place that will hire a minor, especially one like him, no experience, no résumé, no home, and no parent to sign the work form for him. And now the one job that fell into his lap by way of a miracle is being taken away.
He's let his guard down too much, let himself feel too comfortable. Of course this was going to happen, he should have seen it coming. He's been staying and working with Gilbert for almost four months now, and winter was over and spring was here. Of course Gilbert would kick him out, he's way overstayed his welcome. He tries to ignore the sense of betrayal he feels.
Gilbert doesn't owe him anything, in fact, Alfred is the one who owes Gilbert. Still, it stings.
"Got it. I can leave by tomorrow."
Gilbert speaks at the same time.
"That's why-" Gilbert stops suddenly, turning to look at Alfred with wide eyes. "What?"
Alfred's hands are trembling, so he shoves them in His pockets to hide them.
"I'll leave. Thanks for letting me stay for so long."
"You're a really depressing kid, you know that?" Gilbert sighs in the way that's become specific to Alfred. "You're so pessimistic. I'm not kicking you out, I'm offering you a raise. Sheesh."
Alfred feels blood rushing to his ears.
"What?"
It can't be true, surely Alfred has already used up all his luck, and yet-
"Right. As I was saying before you sucked all the fun out of life, I don't think I can keep paying you as an assistant when you're this good, so I think it's high time I promoted you to a proper employee." Gilbert gives Alfred an exasperated look. "You're saving for a place of your own, right? A higher salary should help with that."
Oh.
Alfred's face suddenly feels too hot, and his eyes are prickling with unshed tears, and he can't seem to make himself make eye contact.
Gilbert makes a soft kind of coughing sound, and drops a calloused hand to awkwardly pat Alfred's shoulder.
"Well, so. That's that. Back to work."
Gilbert wheels away, like he's embarrassed, and stalks off out of the room, leaving Alfred struggling to bite back his tears as his emotions overwhelm him.
I got a promotion!
(Message not delivered)
Now that I have a raise, I'll definitely be able to get my own place soon!
(Message not delivered)
"What's wrong, Kiddo?"
Alfred startles out of his own thoughts.
"Huh? Oh, nothing."
Gilbert raises an eyebrow.
"Is it the kind of 'nothing' a beer can fix?"
A cold can suddenly presses against Alfred's neck, and he jumps.
"What?" Alfred takes the offered can. "I can't drink beer! I'm a minor!"
He makes no effort to even pretend he's not going to drink it. Besides, if he's old enough to be kicked out of the house, he's old enough to drink beer. Alfred pops the can and immediately smells the slightly sour scent of beer.
"Calm down kid, it's non-alcoholic."
Oh. He checks the can, and sure enough, there's no alcohol percentage. He must look visibly disappointed because Gilbert laughs at his expression.
"I used to do this with my little brother. I'd get him those while I have real beer, and we'd sit and talk about feelings and stuff." He shrugs, "It's about the atmosphere, you know?"
Alfred sips his drink and quickly determines it's not about the flavour, for sure. Then his mind catches up to Gilbert's words, and he gives him a Look.
"You want to talk? About feelings?"
He puts an appropriate amount of disgust into his tone. He's grateful to Gilbert, of course, and at this stage, he definitely can say he trusts him, but it's not like they're friends. Not that Alfred talks to his friends about his feelings either. Gilbert grimaces.
"Nope. That's why I have beer. So, what's wrong?"
Gilbert sits down and downs half his beer, So Alfred drinks some of his too, and tries not to grimace at the taste.
"My brother's birthday is coming up." Alfred blurts the words out.
Gilbert makes an "Ah", sound, so Alfred continues.
"He's turning thirteen, and he's still in that fucking place with fucking Dad, and-" Alfred takes another long drink of beer, allowing himself to grimace this time, before he continues. "-it's the first birthday I won't be there for."
No matter how much they fight sometimes, or how annoying Mathew can be sometimes, Alfred's always been there for his birthday. Somehow it feels wrong, that even though Alfred was the one who was kicked out, he's safe and has a place to live and is doing fine, and his baby brother is still there. That Mathew isn't safe. He downs the rest of his beer, and silently, Gilbert passes him another.
"His birthday is only three days before mine, so we always used to celebrate together," Alfred mumbles to the table. "And I used to hate it, but..."
But now that they're not together, all Alfred can think about are the times they were, and how it was fun even when he was annoyed. And he wonders if his brother is lonely, celebrating this year alone. He wonders if Mathew is scared. He hopes Mathew's safe.
"And he hasn't responded to my texts for like three weeks. I'm worried."
Gilbert considers this, but he doesn't talk about Alfred's situation or Mathew when he talks. He doesn't try to fix anything or give advice.
"I haven't seen my brother in almost a year. It's nothing big, he just decided to study abroad. I guess he's having fun, and making friends, but he doesn't call so much anymore or visit." Gilbert pops a new can of beer. "I'm happy he's happy, but he's my baby brother, you know? I miss him."
The situation's completely different than Alfred's, but he does get it. He wishes Mathew was happy and safe too.
For a moment they sit in silence, both nursing their respective drinks, then Gilbert suddenly thinks of something and sits up straight and gives Alfred a Look.
"Wait, did you say your birthday is coming up too?"
Alfred scowls.
"Yeah."
Gilbert gives him a thoughtful look, and Alfred gets a wary feeling.
"What?"
Gilbert smirks.
"Nothing."
Alfred has a bad feeling about this.
Happy birthday, Mattie!
(Message not delivered)
...
(Message not delivered)
I hope you're safe...
(Message not delivered)
It's been almost two months since he's last heard from his brother, and something in Alfred's heart whispers that he's taken too long, and that Mathew gave up on him. Or that Dad finally twisted Mathew to his side, making his brother believe all the lies Dad has been telling him. Both options are terrible, but not as terrible as the third option Alfred won't even let himself consider.
Please answer me... I need to know you're okay
(Message not delivered)
"Your turn." Gilbert towels the icy water out of his hair as he nods Alfred towards the bathroom to wash away the sweet from that day's work.
It's been hot and humid at work all day, and Alfred can't get into the shower fast enough to wash it away with cold water. It's been the worst day, for no fault of the day itself, despite the heat and humidity.
July 4th.
It had been towards mid September that his Dad had kicked him out.
Alfred tries to drown his negative thought and feelings in the shower. It's supposed to be his birthday, but it doesn't feel like it. His birthday has never felt so bland before, or so boring. Alfred wonders if it feels this way because it's his birthday without Mathew, or if it's because there's no one to celebrate it with him.
Maybe it's just because it's too hot and muggy.
His hair is still dripping when he exits the bathroom, but Alfred doesn't even notice the cold droplets. The lights are all turned out. Why are the lights turned out? Was there an issue with the rent? Alfred can already feel hjis mood sourcing further. If he has to spend his birthday with no electricity, he might actually snap and lose his shit. Then, he sees a small flame flickering in the dark, and before he can even process that, Gilbert breaks out in the world's most off-tune version of happy birthday he's ever heard.
"Happy birthday, Alfred!" Gilbert concludes with a grin, pushing Alfred into a seat at the table, and setting a small cake in front of him. "Make a wish!"
Alfred's heart hurts as he leans forwards to blow out the candle.
"I wish Mattie would respond soon."
And the lights flick back on, and Gilbert grins at him, and Alfred finally processes the situation. The small cake, clearly store-bought - when had Gilbert found time to buy that without Alfred noticing? - the single candle still smoking slightly, the cramped writing in icing; Happy Birthday, brat!
And to his shame, his throat closes up, and his eyes burn.
"You.. For me?" His voice doesn't work correctly, and Alfred swallows and tries again. "You didn't have to do this for me."
And Gilbert half sighs, half laughs, in the way Alfred's gotten used to, like once again Alfred's gotten the answer wrong.
"The correct response is "Thank you", you brat."
Amd Alfred would say that if he could, but it's suddenly taking most of his effort not to cry, so he just nods mutely, and Gilbert doesn't press,and just produces the cake and cuts it in half, taking one half of the small cake for himself and pushing the rest back to Alfred.
"It's your birthday, have as much as you want, whose gonna stop you?" Gilbert takes a big bite of his own, then pauses, pointing a fork at Alfred. "When you're done, I have a gift for you too."
And Alfred can barely taste the cake with its too-sweet icing, or rich chocolate taste, and he feels like he might choke on the lump in his throat.
"You didn't have-" He stops at the look Gilbert gives him, and ammends his words. "Thank you, Gil."
Gilbert grins in reply, and scarfs down the rest of his cake like he's starving, then waits impatiently for Alfred to finish too. Alfred takes his time anyways, savouring the taste of the cake as much as he can, savouring the moment.
It's not the best birthday he's ever had, but maybe it's not the worst either.
As soon as Alfred finishes his cake, Gilbert throws a stack of papers down in front of him. Alfred picks it up and tries to make sense of what's written there.
Gilbert's grin is so wide it almost hurts Alfred to look at.
"What -?"
"You know I enjoy having you here, crashing on my couch," Gilbert answers before Alfred's finished the question. "But I know you've been wanting your own place for a while,and my friend just so happened to be renting his old apartment, but since you're a minor and cant sign the agreement-"
And Alfred fails to keep back the tears as he realizes what the paper is. Gilbert graciously ignores the waterworks as he finishes his explanation.
"It's under my name, so you'll pay the rent to me, and I'll send it on, but the place is yours."
And Alfred can't even choke out the thanks he's so desperate to give through all his tears, but maybe that's okay, because Gilbert just slides him a non-alcoholic beer and pops his own open, and maybe it's not the best birthday Alfred's ever had, but it's far from the worst.
Al
Alfred gets the first reply three days after his birthday.
Dad took away my phone, sorry
And suddenly Alfred wouldn't care if the world was burning down around him.
Are you okay?
Mathew doesn't reply for two full minutes, the most painful two minutes of his life. And when Mathew does reply, Alfred's soul falls into his stomach.
No.
Alfie, help.
Please.
And Alfred will do anything for his little brother, even if he needed to take on the entire world.
In comparison, one homophobic father is nothing.
I'm coming.
Hold on.
Alfred puts down his phone and turns to his boss.
"Gil, I need the day off."
They're already halfway into the workday, and only halfway through their work, but Hilbert sees the serious expression on Alfred's face and doesn't protest at all, setting down his own paint roller.
"Do you need me?"
Alfredvs heart skips a beat as he thinks about what he's going to do, but shakes his head. Alfred's still a minor, even if he takes Mathew with him, at most he's a runaway. Gilbert's an adult, and if he gets involved, he could be charged with Kidnapping. Alfred doesn't want to hurt the one adult he can rely on.
"No, I've got it."
Gilbert holds his gaze for a second, then relents.
"Okay. Then go."
Hurry.
"Let me out! I'm not going!"
The shouting is so loud Alfred can hear it before he even reaches the driveway, and he increases his pace.
"You're evil!" Mathew's voice is breaking, but his words carry with the high and shrill sound of panic. "You're not my dad!"
And Arthur's voice that Alfred had thought he'd almost forgotten is familiar, cold and angry.
"I should have known your brother would infect you. I should have done this sooner."
And the nerves that had been building in his chest disappear with the anger his father's words bring. A small part of him had hoped that his Dad regretted his actions, that he secretly felt bad and regretted his choice to kick Alfred out, but was too stubborn to admit it. A small part of him had still hoped his father loved him.
And if Alfred wasn't so angry, if he wasn't so scared for his little brother, if his adrenaline wasn't so high...
If Alfred wasn't trying so hard to keep himself together, he'd fall apart on the spot.
Instead, Alfred steels himself, and lets himself into a place he used to call home with the spare key from under the mat.
"I'm not sick!" Mathew rages, with a sound of a fist slamming against wood - did Dad lock him in his room?- "I don't need conversion therapy!"
Conversion therapy?
Alfred is going to kill Dad. He climbs the stairs quietly, aiming for the element of surprise, and there Dad is, face twisted up with the same disgust and anger he saw the last time he'd seen Dad. Except this time it's worse, because it's aimed towards his baby brother. Towards Mattie, who's only just turned 14.
Or rather, towards Mathew's door, and Alfred loses control of himself when he sees the deadbolt, locking it from the outside. Locking his brother in, like he's an animal. Alfred sees red.
When he blinks, his fist aches - he'd forgotten what Gilbert always said, tuck the thumb below your fingers- and Arthur is reeling, steadying himself with a hand on the wall, and there's a frustrating lack of bruising or bleeding and Alfred is driven with the instinct to hit again before he recovers-
Arthur slams into the wall before he can even understand the situation, and Alfred pulls back his fist to hit again, but before he can, a voice breaks him out of his trance.
"DAD! What's going on? LET ME OUT!"
And Alfred remembers what he came here for.
"Mattie!" He unbolts the door and barely avoids getting slammed with it as Mathew comes crashing out, eyes wild and tear-filled. "Mattie, it's me! I came, calm down!"
And it doesn't matter if Alfred is so angry he wants to kill Arthur, or they Arthur is getting up and shouting something Alfred isn't even listening to, because his younger brother catches him in a rib-crushing hug and sobs into his shirt like Alfred's a hero come to save him, and Alfred's only job here today is be the hero his brother needs.
So Alfred holds Mathew tight and glares at his father over his brother's head.
"Don't you freaking touch him."
And Arthur snarls, an inhuman noise that fathers shouldn't make, and Alfred shifts so Mathew is behind him.
"I told you not to come back, ever again." Arthur growls. "I told you what would happen if you did."
And Alfred knows the fight that's about to go down won't be pretty, and Mathew can't be there to see it.
"Grab your stuff," He tells his brother. "Hurry, I'll hold him off."
And Mathew hesitates, then darts back into the room that Arthur had just made his prison,and Alfred puts himself between the door and his Dad, so Mathew can't be locked in again.
"You stay away from Mathew!" His father fakes a lunge, testing Alfred's defense. Alfred takes a swing that almost connects. "You've already infected him enough!"
Mathew reappears behind Alfred, two large bags on his shoulder, and Alfred shifts his defense to keep Mathew behind him.
"Go outside! I'll meet you there!"
"But-"
"GO!" Alfred snaps and Mathew gives, thumping down the stairs in sets of threes.
"This is Kidnapping!" Arthur threatens, incensed at being ignored. "I'll call the police!"
With Mathew safely gone, Alfred doesn't have to play defensive anymore and turns his full fury on his father with a matching snarl.
"Try it!" Alfred spits. "I'm a minor, Dad! And if the police find out you kicked a minor out onto the streets, I don't think I'll be the one going away."
His father finches at the accusation, eyes hardening as he realizes Alfred is right. And in an instant, Alfred sees his Dad switch tactics.
"And you want Mathew to be homeless too? Living on the streets like you?"
It hurts to hear Arthur say that, because it means Dad knew exactly what Alfred could have been suffering through if he didn't meet Gilbert, what he did suffer until he met Gilbert, and it means Dad doesn't care. Doesn't regret what he did, that he doesn't even care if Alfred died on the streets during the winter or not. It means Arthur never loved Alfred.
And it means Mathew can never stay with dad.
"If you really cared about Mathew, you'd want him to have a home, where he's safe and warm and cared for, not have him starving on the streets." Arthur's voice takes on a sickly honeyed tone. "You're not doing what's best for Mathew, you're just trying to spite me."
And Alfred shifts, just slightly, edging back towards the stairs in a way he hopes Arthur won't notice.
"Yeah, well, if you actually loved Mathew, he'd have a home where he's safe and cared for!"
Alfred spits back, and Arthur shifts suspiciously towards the small side table in the hall, and Alfred knows it's a race against time. Whether he can escape safely before Arthur gets whatever he's edging for. Alfred feints a sudden lock towards the table and Arthur jumps back, and so does Alfred, bringing him closer to the stairs, and Arthur narrows his eyes, noticing. They both know the game now, and only one will win.
And for his baby brother, for Mathew, Alfred needs it to be him.
He feintes again, but this time Arthur doesn't flinch away, and Alfred grits his teeth. If he can't catch Arthur off guard with his fists, then...
"You know something? That Gay shit you found on my computer that day you kicked me out? It wasn't even mine."
Alfred fights with words instead. The secret, the one dad could never find out about, didn't need tok be kept anymore. Everything had fallen apart. So Alfred relishes the vindication as he finally refutes his father in a way he couldn't almost a year ago.
"So you're telling me someone else took your computer and searched that disgusting stuff up, and put it back in your room to frame you?" Arthur seethes sarcastically. "Oh, how could I have not figured that out?"
Arthur's hand is inching in for the table, and Alfred spits his last attack before Arthur gets what he wants.
"Actually, yes, but it wasn't to frame me." It's clear Arthur doesn't get it yet, so Alfred graciously expands. "Mattie borrowed my computer that morning before school."
And this time, it worked, and Arthur freezes, eyes widening as he realizes the implications. Alfred tenses, ready to run, and fires the finishing blow.
"That 'disgusting Gay porn' you saw? It wasn't even mine, it was Mattie's."
And the moment of weakness Alfred is waiting for shows as Arthur flinches, and Alfred doesn't wait to see Arthur's reaction, turning and bolting down the stairs. He s barely reached the bottom before he hears a suspicious heavy thud hitting the wall behind him, but Alfred doesn't stop to see what it is. He needs to get both of them out there before Arthur remembers he has a gun.
Before his ex-father decides to get rid of the "wrong" son, (or both) permanently this time.
He finds Mathew, anxiously shifting from foot to foot at the end of the driveway, and doesn't even stop as he grabs one of the bags from him.
"Come on, run!"
And so they run.
Hey, kid
You okay?
I meant when I offered to help
Let me know if you change your mind
Gilbert paces his kitchen, still in his paint-splattered coveralls, job-site abandoned to finish another day.
"Goddammit kid, answer me!"
He sinks into a chair, and moments later pops back to his feet and resumes his pacing. He shouldn't be this worried, he shouldn't care this much, it wasn't like they were close, he's not friends or (god forbid!) family with Alfred, Alfred is just a kid off the streets that he'd helped on a whim, just a kid who reminds him of his brother, just a kid whose Dad is a dick...
Just an employee who works honestly and efficiently.
Just an ex-roomate who had lived with Gilbert for over half a year.
Just a young man making the best of the shitty life that was given him.
Just an older brother that loves his little brother to hell and back.
Just a little kid that isn't his little brother, but might as well be.
Just a kid that Gilbert can't leave alone.
"Goddammit!" He spins on his heal and stops, dizzy from the pacing. "Alfred, please answer me!"
If only he'd thought to ask where Alfred's house was. Then he wouldn't have to wait like he is now.
Alfred, you brat, you'd better let me know if you're okay.
And unbelievably, his phone starts to ring. His caller ID identifies the caller as "Little Brat". Gilbert almost fumbles the phone in his haste to answer.
"Kid? You okay?"
And through heavy pants the strained voice of his favourite - and only - employee answers.
"Yeah, we're okay, but..." He takes a second to catch his breath and hurries on. "I'm afraid he's gonna follow us. Can you give us a ride? If you're done at work?"
It wouldn't have mattered if Gilbert was mid-painting or even in the hospital in a coma. His not-brother is asking for help, and Gilbert will answer.
"Where are you?" He grabs his keys. "I'm on my way."
"What about this one?" A boy in his late teens with ginger hair holds up a box. "I think I'd look cool with black hair."
"Anything would look better than what you've got now," The younger teen, a brunet, informs him seriously . "You look terrible as a red-head."
"I still think you should dye it white again, like mine." An adult joins the conversation. "I liked it when we looked like brothers."
"Bug off, Gil," The ginger responds, but he doesn't seem upset, more amused. "What would Ludwig say if he heard you say that? He blond, after all!"
"Luddy knows I think he looks cool no matter what," Gilbert replies sagely.
"What, and I don't?"
"We-ell..."
"Alfred just doesn't want to because last time he went platinum blond, people thought Nat was his sister." The youngest in the trio confides in the oldest, and Alfred flushes.
"So? She's my girlfriend! How are we supposed to kiss if people think we're siblings? It's gross!"
"You could move to Alabama?" The younger suggests with a smirk, and Alfred glares.
"I'll bury you in Alabama, Mattie, I swear to god-"
"I still miss you as a blond," Gilbert quickly interferes before the two younger siblings start bickering.
"Gil!" Both teens hiss, looking over their shoulders like they're expecting a ghost of the past to materialize and drag them back to hell. Gilbert lowers his voice a bit too as he responds.
"I don't want to be mean, but it's been two years. And..." His tone switches to apologetic, "There been nothing, no posters, no news. I think it's fine to change back."
Gilbert doesn't say that the reason it's safe is thst no one's looking, that Arthur never tried to find them or reported them missing. Alfred and Mathew know that's the truth anyways. None of them mention it.
Instead, Mathew picks at his hair thoughtfully.
"It would be nice to be blonde again. I think the dye is ruining my hair, it's all greasy and rough now."
"That's not the dye," Alfred advises helpfully, "It's bad hygiene. Try showering, it might help."
He earns an elbow to the gut for his unsolicited advise.
"But I guess it would be nice to go natural for a while," Alfred concedes when he gets his breath back. "I guess I missed it, just a bit."
And eventually, the trio leave the store, dye-free, bickering all the while. No one stops to get a second look, or eye them suspiciously. No one thinks they're anything but brothers messing around, let alone runaways.
And back at Alfred's Apartment, his girlfriend is waiting, and Mathew runs to Gilbert's to escape the PDA. Gilbert's other younger brother, the one related by blood, is there too, and Mathew likes Ludwig because he doesn't tease Mathew about his crush on Lars like Alfred and Gilbert do, and Ludwig is the only person Mathew knows who's also Gay, and Ludwig gives terrible dating advice but it's okay, because it's fun just to talk about their crushes together, and no one gets threatened, or locked in room, or sent to conversion therapy for liking the wrong gender.
They just get teased by annoying brothers.
Alfred
(Message not delivered.)
I'm sorry... I made a mistake. I know what I did is unforgivable, but please, give me another chance. I can be a better father, I promise. I miss you.
(Message not delivered.)
In a place not as far away as they wished, a man texts a teenager that he used to call his child. Texts he's been sending for almost a year and a half, ranging from 'I'll forgive you if you come back now' to 'You ungrateful wretch, how could you do this to me, do you have any idea what I gave up for you-' to 'I'm really truly sorry, please forgive me Alfred.' Not one of them has ever been responded too, and Arthur doesn't even know if Alfred is seeing them or not. Even so, he keeps trying, in the hope that one day, Alfred will see it, and he'll get a reply. In the hopes that one day, Arthur can get his son back.
Far away, two blonde brothers bicker lightly as the older teases the younger about a crush, and neither of them care that the crush is on a guy, neither of care about what their father would think. neither of them think about the man they used to call "Dad" at all.
And a man they used to call "Dad" regrets what he's lost, but not what he's done, incapable of change or growth, and tries to drag back what he lost any way he can.
I love you.
(Message not delivered.)
No one ever replies to Arthur's texts.
End