"So." Alfred leans back in his chair, attempting to act casual. "Arthur's sick?"

He's trying to act like he doesn't care, but Mathew knows him well enough and can hear the concern in his tone. This is just like Arthur and Alfred, both of them always worry about the other even when they're at each other's throats.

"Ah, not really, just overworked." Mathew lies. "He was home late yesterday and today so he's just really tired."

Mathew didn't want to think about how Alfred would react if he knew the truth. The truth would only hurt Alfred, and Mathew doubts anything his brother would do to help will work. Alfred accepts his words doubtfully as he slurps on his coke, but his eyes remain on Mathew suspiciously as Mathew polishes off his second set of fries. Mathew doesn't like Alfred's gaze, and tries to distract Alfred with random chatter while he twists Alfred's straw wrapper into a butterfly.

"I have like twice as many chores now." Mathew mutters a little petulantly. He twists the butterfly one last time as he remembers that Alfred really hadn't done much by ways of chores. Neither had Mathew. The truth is that Arthur used to do the majority, and Mathew's realized exactly how much Arthur used to do. It's not really fair of him to blame Alfred, but Mathew still does.

Alfred snaps his fingers, and Mathew jerks his head up to see why, trying to focus his eyes on Alfred's face. Alfred leans forward, and he's frowning, and Mathew can't shake the feeling Alfred is searching his face...

Too late, Mathew remembers what he was smoking earlier, and drops his gaze before Alfred can see his still-dilated pupils. There's nothing Mathew can do about the smell, but suddenly he wants to get out of there and he remembers how Carlos had invited him out. He pulls out his phone and opens Carlo's text. He wavers before responding, but he's already out, and Mathew knows Arthur will sleep deeply until morning. He taps out a message.

9:37

Are you still up to hang?

The response comes almost instantly, and even though it's simple, Mathew can tell Carlos is excited and he feels guilty. When did it get to this point? When did he start to avoid his friends and blow them off? When was the last time Mathew had made time for anyone other than Arthur? Mathew gets a sneaking suspicion that makes his stomach drop. Has he been making his friends feel invisible like Arthur does to him?

Carlos

9:37

Yes

Where do u want?

Alfred is frowning even deeper when Mathew catches his gaze when he looks up. Mathew flushes, knowing texting someone else during a meal with Alfred was probably very rude. He offers his excuse sheepishly.

"I made plans to hang out with Carlos tonight and was just checking when."

Alfred nods his head understandingly, but his frown doesn't fade.

"When is it?" Alfred asks, at the same time as Mathew's phone chimes.

Carlos

9:38

Want 2 go right now?

Mathew types a quick reply to both questions.

"He said now actually." He gives Alfred an apologetic look, but Mathew's actually grateful for the excuse. He gathers up his hoodie and slips it on as he talks, and for the first time Mathew is aware of how strongly it smells like weed. Mathew tries to hurry faster. "Sorry about this." He offers and takes a few steps towards the exit.

To his horror, Alfred follows him. Once outside, Mathew once again offers his apology. "Sorry to run off on you. Let's hang out again sometime?" Preferably not anytime soon and when Mathew doesn't smell like a crackhouse.

Alfred studies his face and grabs Mathew's arm when Mathew turns to leave.

"OK." Alfred says simply, then tacks on in a sharp tone; "What are you on?"

Mathew's stomach drops. Alfred won't let go of his arm until he answers, and Mathew already knows it's too late to hide it. Mathew licks his lips nervously as he searches for an answer, but his heart won't stop pounding. Mathew suddenly feels terrified. The first time he's spoken to Alfred since he left, and Alfred finds out about Mathew's bad habit. Mathew mentally curses himself, and the fear in his chest gets tighter and colder.

What if Alfred doesn't want to see him again after this? Mathew's finally gotten the chance to speak to his brother again, and he's already blown it. Mathew feels like if he admits it, he'll never see Alfred again.

Will Alfred throw Mathew's arm away from him, and say that Mathew's changed? That Mathew isn't the brother he knows anymore? What if he says he shouldn't have come to see him? What if Alfred says he doesn't want to meet him again? But Mathew can't lie either. He can picture the look in Alfred's eyes if Mathew does, a disappointment, both in Mathew and himself, as though Alfred is confirming the distance between them. Mathew doesn't want that either.

He doesn't realize when his fingers started trembling, or when it became so hard to catch his breath. He doesn't know what to say, if there's anything he can say that will make Alfred stay. Mathew doesn't want to be alone anymore. He doesn't want to go back to that big empty house that's not truly empty, but still feels that way.

Then Alfred pulls him closer, and all Mathew can see is Alfred's sweater, and he rests his head on Alfred's shoulder. Mathew can't see Alfred's expression, but he can still feel Alfred's frown as Alfred rubs circles on Mathew's back.

"Mathew..."

Alfred's tone sounds strained, and he switches from Mathew's full name to his nickname.

"Mattie, what's happened to you?"

Mathew can't tell Alfred. He doesn't know how to communicate the emptiness of the once rowdy house, the fear that seizes him when he finds an empty fridge or forgotten load of laundry, the aching loneliness that pounds inside him every day, or the worry he feels whenever he sees Arthur, like he's slipping away and nothing Mathew can do will be able to keep Arthur present. Mathew doesn't have the words or the energy to try to explain this on the sidewalk outside McDonald's. Instead, he just asks for forgiveness.

"I'm sorry." Alfred stiffens, and Mathew repeats it again. "I'm sorry."

And he really is, in all senses of the word. Alfred doesn't ask anything else, and it feels like they'll stay like this forever. Alfred doesn't push Mathew away, and it makes Mathew wonder if Alfred's still willing to hang out with a screw-up like himself. Or maybe this is Alfred's goodbye.

Both of them are saved from having to break the silence by the sound of Mathew's phone chiming, and Mathew breaks free from the awkward hug, his eyes wet, but without tears, and pulls the phone from his pocket.

"Carlos." He explains unnecessarily. "We're gonna meet at Tim's."

He's hesitant to go, not sure if this is the last time he'll see his brother or not, but he also doesn't want to leave Carlos hanging. He's been brushing off his friend for way too long, and Mathew doesn't want Carlos to feel like Mathew does. Non-existent. Alfred shifts from foot to foot and hesitantly offers a solution.

"Can I come too?"

It's an answer that Mathew wouldn't have considered on his own, but when Alfred offers it sounds so obvious. Mathew flashes a grateful smile before he even realizes he's doing it, and Alfred gives him a strange look.

"Sure!"

Mathew answers without even asking Carlos first, then realizes he should probably let his friend know.

10:02

BTW Al wants to come 2. Is that ok?

The text is barely sent when Mathew gets the reply back.

Carlos

10:02

Sure.

Haven't punched him in a while.

Mathew winces as he remembers Carlos and his brother don't get along, and gives Alfred an uncomfortable glance. He wonders if this is going to be a mistake. Alfred is still giving Mathew that strange and contemplative look. Mathew takes a deep breath. The offer's already been made and he doesn't know if this will be the last time he sees his twin or not, so he has nothing more to lose by bringing Alfred than not. He nods his head in the direction of the Tim Horton's to indicate they should go, and then stumbles as the world seems to spin for a moment.

It's been a while since marijuana had the full effect on Mathew, he's always been more level-headed than most, even under the influence, and though he still sometimes finds the world is a little too bright or hazy, he's mostly able to reason his way through it. But he rarely gets that floaty-happy feeling anymore, and just gets everything else. Alfred catches his arm so he doesn't fall, frowning more than ever, and Mathew makes up a hurried mumbled excuse.

"Tripped."

He mutters abashedly, and Alfred doesn't look like he's buying it one bit.

"Seriously, what the hell did you take, Matt?"

Mathew had really been hoping that Alfred would just drop it.