Identical twins Alfred and Matthew lived their whole lives with their mother on the fifth-floor walkup in Chinatown, New York. For as long as they could remember, it had been just the three of them. But every birthday Alfred made a wish. A wish he knew that Matthew was wishing for too.

They wished that there was someone else.

Sure, they had plenty of people in their lives. Their Mom never withheld affection or attention. Mr Wang was like an uncle to them and always the one to take photos at their birthday parties, which would quickly be added to their mother's obsessive scrapbooking. Yao and Kiku were basically their cousins by extension. Growing up on the same street had that effect. Their neighbours were always friendly and the twins learnt the importance of it takes a village from a very young age.

But there was still a gaping blank space in their life, one that their minds would not let them forget.

They would never let their mother forget either. Every year on their birthday and their father didn't show, Alfred and Matthew would demand their mother tell them the story of how she met their father.

Amelia would sigh fondly, for both the memory and her eager sons. The twins would listen as she described adventuring through the sandy deserts of Morocco and a fortunate accident landing her in the arms of their father. She may have been stopped from falling down a sand dune, but nothing could stop her from falling in love. They were married by the Chief of the Bedouin tribe under the warm Moroccan sun and then Arthur took her back to England to meet his family and get married for real...

"But fate had other plans..." their mother would finish cryptically and her face would fall as she reminisced the past.

"But fate gave me a gift to make up for it!" She looped her arms around her kids and pulled them in. "Sweet dreams kiddos. I love you and I love you."

Matthew would laugh at the onslaught of kisses and Alfred would try to pull away with no real strength.

When she left them for the night, the twins pulled out a photo of Arthur and propped it up between them. Neither had to say anything to the other to know that they both mentally wished a man they never met, a man they were so eager to know, good night.

It was a little after their 18th birthday and school had just finished for the year. With nothing in their immediate future post-graduation, they were helping their mother with gigs like they'd been doing their whole lives. Amelia loved rock 'n' roll and her constant gig requests and various connections spoke for her talent. She performed at pubs and bars while the twins would sit behind the counter and talk to the staff. She'd be called to play at parties and the twins were usually allowed to mingle with the guests or help themselves to whatever food was left out. Only now, when they were a bit older, Amelia decided they could help out instead of waiting around. So since then, whenever she was requested for a wedding, two matching servers came along too.

It was going great.

"I blame you," Matthew harshly whispered as the car pulled up to the wedding venue a little behind schedule.

"Sure, it's always me, isn't it?" Alfred grumbled as he redid his bowtie for the 13th time. "Maybe if you didn't take so long in the shower-"

"Boys," their mother hushed them as she rolled down the car window. An unimpressed-looking man moved from his position of guardian of the venue as he approached.

"Are you delivering something?"

"Yep, about three hours of romantic rock-n-roll and two very late waiters."

"Sorry!" Alfred climbed over a sheepish Matthew and stuck his head out of the window.

"Ow," Matthew hissed and pinched his brother.

"Ow, Mattie!" Alfred flinched and hit his head. "Ow!"

"Watch your head." The man said too late.

"Serves you right," Matthew scoffed and swatted Alfred's hands away as he tried to repay the pinch.

Amelia sighed and the man pointed to where she would park. As soon as she turned the engine off she was turning on them. "Boys, get out. Don't do anything that would disrupt the happy day, okay?"

"Yes Mom," they said in unison and started to get to work.

It was easy enough. All they had to do was carry around plates of food and clean up dirty plates. Well, Matthew found it easy. He couldn't speak for Alfred, who no doubt hoped there would be lots of leftovers that he could pinch.

It was going well until Matthew overheard the bride frantically grabbing at the maid of honour as frustrated tears welled in her eyes.

"How could he do this to me? It's our wedding day? Where is he!"

"I don't know, he has to be here! I saw him earlier!"

"Yeah, everyone saw him earlier, when we got married! Where is he now? It's his reception!"

"It's only been twenty minutes and you've already lost him?" another bridesmaid commented and the bride scowled.

"Ha ha, that's not funny. Just hurry up and find him!"

Matthew was slightly alarmed as he watched the drama unfold. He always got the best drama just by being in the right place at the right time. Alfred also thought it was because he was just so unassumingly unthreatening that people let their guards down too easily without realising he was around. Matthew felt sorry for the bride. While he didn't know her personally he could imagine the stress she was going through. Especially on such an important, socially demanding day. There wasn't anything he could do besides keep an eye out, not that he knew what the groom looked like.

In the corner of his eye, he saw Alfred trip, accompanied by a loud curse. Matthew rolled his eyes when he saw his brother look around to make sure that no one had actually noticed his unprofessional behaviour. Figuring two eyes were better than one, Matthew went over to fill him in on the missing groom situation.

"Oops," Alfred grimaced as he re-aligned everything on the silver platter he was carrying and quickly sneaked a chocolate puff into his mouth.

"Alfred," Matthew hit him with his empty platter.

"Whaaat?" Alfred said with a mouthful before his eyes widened. "What is that!"

Matthew followed to where he was pointing. There was a leg sticking out from under the table. Without wasting any time, he shoved his platter into Alfred's hand and ducked under the table to check it out.

There was a man who Matthew figured could only be the groom basically unconscious under the table. Matthew had no clue if that was because he was drugged or drunk but he knew he had to do something.

"What is going on?" Alfred asked when Matthew reappeared but Matthew ignored him and eyed his surroundings as an idea came to him.

"The groom's out and under there, I'll try and wake him up."

He didn't wait for a response as he grabbed a knife from an empty table and looked for any witnesses before chipping the beak off of the ice swan in the middle of the buffet table. His fingers ached around the icy cold object so he had to act fast. He ran back to the table where Alfred was standing awkwardly and ducked back under. He couldn't feel his hand as he dragged the ice all over the groom's face and then shoved it down his back. The effect was immediate. Matthew scurried backwards as the groom bolted up, hitting his head on the table in his scramble to get the ice out.

"Alfred!" Matthew called as the groom got up and frantically tried to get the ice out. Alfred reacted without needing to be told what to do. It was the closest thing to twin telepathy they had.

"On it!" Alfred called and Matthew heard the clutter above him as his twin dumped the plates. Matthew pushed the long tablecloth aside as he watched the groom attract attention. His face burned at the thought of attracting attention and he figured he'd done enough. Maybe he would stay down there for the meantime...

Meanwhile, Alfred did the only thing he could think of.

"It's cold! Get it out!" The groom shouted and Alfred shouted over him and mimicked his moves like he was dancing.

"Wooo yeah! Get it!" Alfred exclaimed and started dancing.

He tried not to nervously laugh as guests stared at them in confusion. Luckily it didn't last when the leader of the band on stage, their dear mother, changed the song to something more upbeat with more tempo and the guests were more than happy to dance along completely ignorant to the groom's suffering. He probably deserved it anyway, not that Alfred knew exactly what was going on.

"We're not being paid enough for this," Matthew said as he crawled out from under the table.

"Fuck no," Alfred agreed, before asking what the hell went down. Matthew relayed everything he knew with a shrug.

"Oh well, more business if they get a divorce and then get married again." Alfred shrugged.

The rest of the reception went without any further issues, until-

"If everyone would like to clear the dancefloor, the bride and her father would like to share a special dance."

The bride, in all of her stunning glory, smiled as she led an older man onto the dancefloor. Her eyes never left the man, and the man beamed down at her like they were the only two in the room.

As the dance went on, more and more guests filled the dance floor. All of them were led by a father, smiling with loving eyes. Matthew and Alfred wordlessly stood side by side and they watched. Years and years of practice meant they could hide their emotions, carefully blank faces as they observed, but they could never hide their feelings from each other. Or their mother.

"I know that look," she said as she joined them at their lone table once the dance was over.

"I don't want to talk about it," Matthew said as he fidgeted with the tablecloth.

"Every time we do these weddings, there's always a daddy-daughter dance!" Alfred complained.

"Well, it's tradition," Amelia said with a sad smile.

"Yeah, I know that!" Alfred sighed and threw his head back. "But why the hell am I getting so upset! I'm not a daughter."

"We're upset because even if we were, we'd never get to do that," Matthew added more articulately.

"Yeah! And I know you think you're doing the right thing by keeping us from him but-"

"Honey, I was trying to protect you from getting hurt the same way I was."

"You left him, remember?" Matthew stated, his eyes sharp as he dared her to say otherwise.

"Well, it's not like he jumped on a plane to come and get me, did he?"

"Well, maybe he would've if he knew we existed!" Alfred clenched his fist as his tone inched towards shouting.

"It's not that simple," their mother recited.

"Wouldn't he want to do the right thing if he knew? You always told us he was a good man, so wouldn't he want to be at least, I don't know, involved somehow in our lives?" Matthew asked desperately. "Couldn't you protect us after we tried and then if he doesn't want us?"

"I said it's not that simple," Amelia sighed and rubbed her eyes.

"Why won't you understand? I feel like half of me is missing," Alfred insisted. "And I don't mean Mattie! No offence, Mattie."

"No, I get it."

"Right? So without that other half of us, how are we supposed to know who we really are?"

"You are a full person by yourself. You don't need the other half of your DNA to tell you that."

Matthew bit his lip and Alfred dragged his hands down his face. No matter how many times they had this argument and brought up the same points, their mother always found a way to shut it down. It was frustrating feeling like she just didn't understand.

"Come on, how about we steal some leftovers?"

Somehow the temptation of free food wasn't strong enough to pull the twins from their ruminating.

The twins played along, acting as normal as they could for the remainder of the day, but each knew the other was reaching a tipping point and they were prepared to fall.

"Alright," Alfred said as he locked the door to their bedroom. "Are you thinking the same thing I am?"

"I don't know, you know we can't read each other's minds."

"How cool would it be if we could? Anyways, take a guess."

"It would be an educated guess. You're annoyed that Mum will never understand and you wish you could start life over and roll the dice again hoping for a better hand."

"Uh, yeah kinda, not quite. I mean, definitely annoyed that Mum doesn't get it. What would she know? Grandpa is still alive and he's still around! She doesn't know what she's missing out on."

Alfred kept pacing and Matthew knew he was brewing up an idea.

"Eh, what can we do aboot it?" He said, prompting Alfred to share.

"I don't know but I want to know more about him. She only ever tells us the same story over and over and well, I want to know more. Don't you?"

Matthew nodded and Alfred cracked his knuckles.

"Give me the photo and I'll see what I can do."

Alfred had always been great with technology, they both were just by being born in the right generation. All they knew about Arthur was his name, what country he lived in and what he looked like thanks to a photograph older than them. One reverse image search later and a little prompting through area searches, Alfred slouched back in his chair with satisfaction.

"Ta-da! I dunno why we didn't do this sooner." He sent all the links he could to Matthew and they looked through them at the same time. Alfred failed to withhold a giggle when he was Arthur's title. "Ha, he's a Lord? What is this, medieval times? Do simple townsfolk call him his Lordship?"

"Eh, things are different in Europe," Matthew shrugged, but his focus was entirely on his phone, consumed by every new thing he learned about Arthur. "It's probably a family title passed down or something..."

"Yeah, I have no idea... So he's a Lord and he does some political stuff- hey, have you seen his house? Have a look on maps it's so big!"

Eventually, they found out everything they could online, but even then it wasn't enough. The internet could only tell them so much about a person. It could tell them what Arthur was, but not exactly who Arthur was. They're both more desperate than they'd admit out loud and being able to find so much online was the final push they needed to take the plunge. They wanted more, and it was just within reach.

"Okay, so I'm thinking we just go to England and hunt him down," Alfred said, a deranged grin on his face.

"And we have our passports from when we went to Canada," Matthew added with a matching grin. "Plus, we were going to take a gap year anyway."

"Fuck yeah, and we're rich from working with Mum all these years."

"We're not that rich," Matthew pointed out. "But it would be enough to stay in England for a while."

"Yeah, exactly. So we're set!" Alfred cheered, then cringed when he went a little bit too loud. "Oh yeah, it's all coming together."

Alfred booked the tickets while Matthew grabbed a carry bag each and started packing the essentials.

"We can always get a suitcase on the way back," he reasoned when Alfred questioned about luggage.

"Guess so, that saves money on the way up," Alfred shrugged. "Anyways I've got the tickets now so we're locked in!"

They only had a couple of hours before they left, which intimidated Matthew and invigorated Alfred. Sue Matthew for thinking Alfred would give them at least a couple of days to prepare! Alfred did his best to hype up what he was looking forward to so Matthew could feel better. That came in the form of a linguistic interest.

"More people speak French over there than here!" Matthew said as his eyes lit up. Having picked up the subject in high school, he'd been obsessively practising ever since but never actually encountered a French person, much to his disappointment. Alfred kind of understood. He didn't want to learn a language but he imagined it would suck if he had a multiplayer video game but no wifi to play on.

"Dude, why you wanted to learn French, I'll never know. You should've picked Chinese! No better place to learn that than here!"

"I can't help it, I love what I love," Matthew shrugged.

"We're so not going to France," Alfred said with disgust. "There's French people there! And they eat snails."

"We're not going to France," Matthew reassured while he rolled his eyes. "But there's a lot of French people in England so hopefully we come across at least one!"

"I'll uh, keep my fingers crossed for you," Alfred said, knowing just how much his brother was obsessed with learning the silly language. "As long as they're not pretentious."

"I hope not," Matthew said. "But as long as they aren't too mean about how bad my French is-

"Mattie, I'm sure there's more than one French person and you'll be able to pick whoever. And your French isn't that bad, at least to me."

"You don't count," Matthew teased before pausing. "What are we going to do about Mum? This is sudden... we'll leave a note but it might shock her."

"Oh yeah, uh, we'll leave a note and then sneak out. I don't want her to stop us."

"I don't think she will."

"Good. I don't think it'll be a shock either. I mean, we've been bringing him up our entire lives so... it won't be too unexpected. She'll get over it."

Matthew just hummed in agreement as he found a pen and paper.

Dear Mom,

We thought that taking a year or two off before college was the answer to figuring out what the hell we're gonna do with our lives. We still gotta figure that out but there's something we have to do first. Deep down we've always known that we want to find our dad. There's nothing you can say to stop us or make us change our minds, it's just something we gotta do. You're always saying we gotta write our own story and we're gonna make sure it rocks.

We'll send you a cool souvenir though!

- Love, Alfred & Matthew.

p.s Sorry if this comes as a shock, I hope you didn't need us for any wedding gigs

p.s 2 I'll make sure Matthew doesn't eat any snails!

p.s 3 And I'll make sure Alfred remembers to brush his teeth so he doesn't get any more fillings

p.s 4 I'm an adult and I can look after myself!

Amelia stared at the note as scenarios born from fear played out in her mind. What if Arthur ignored the twins and sent them back? She was sure it would break them. Because she refused to lie to them, they'd spent the past 18 years yearning after an absent man who didn't even know they existed. She didn't know how he would react to them turning up on his doorstep...

But they were writing their own story and she could feel their determination. There was nothing she could do to change their mind or stop them. So all she could do was wait and hope they didn't come home crying.

Alfred felt a little guilty sneaking out and only leaving a note, but years of waiting and yearning meant they wanted to jump right in, with or without the life vest.

They boarded a plane with only a carry-on bag each, both stuffed to the brim with whatever they could fit. Saving money was one of their top priorities and if they wanted to bring shit back, which was certainly in the cards for Alfred, then they'd buy a suitcase over there. Easy. A singular suitcase that they could share. Regardless, they didn't need much, only each other and a vague idea of what to do once they landed.

England was and wasn't much different from New York. It had the same level of activity, something that did not phase them at all. The anonymity was comforting and no one cared what they did... or said. Everyone had funny accents that Alfred took it upon himself to mock.

"I'm tellin' ya chap, it's called football, and if ya call it soccah, imma shank ya, yeah?" Alfred joked as they wandered the streets. "Fuck, I better keep my voice down or I'll get shanked for real!"

"I'll pretend I can't speak English and just let it happen," Matthew added snidely.

"You look just like me! They'll know you're with me and shank you too!"

"Which is worse, looking like you or getting shanked?"

Alfred scoffed and pushed Matthew before his attention shifted to-

"Holy shit! A double-decker bus! Like from the movies!"

"What do you know, TV is accurate sometimes," Matthew teased but Alfred was too busy focusing on the red bus.

Five minutes later they were sitting on the open top of the bus and staring at the city around them.

"You have no idea how much my ass hurts," Alfred whined like it wasn't his idea to get on the bus.

"I have some idea, I was next to you on the plane, remember?"

They got to see a bit of London as they made their way towards where their destination probably was. They didn't have any mobile data yet so they were relying on a pamphlet map they picked up to direct them.

When they finally got off the bus Alfred snatched the map from Matthew and squinted at it like it could give them directions without him having to read.

"We're here, Alfred."

"I know! I'm just making sure!" Alfred said in a way that meant he had no fucking clue as he shoved the map into his bag. "Wow, it's so cutsy here! Where's our hotel?"

The area was charming, with stone roads and walkways with small yet lively buildings. There was moss and trees and buckets of flowers attached to the buildings. Matthew pointed to one of them with a sign that said 'Grand Hotel'.

"Fuck, is there free wifi somewhere cus I just want to check if that's the right place."

"It's right."

"I just thought the grand hotel would be... more grand?"

"We're travelling on a budget," Matthew rolled his eyes and went in.

"Cheapskate!"

Inside was busy, the main lobby seemed to be a communal area where everyone could have a drink or play some games. The plink of a pool ball being hit was barely louder than the sound of chatter and the playing of a guitar coming from the front desk.

A young lady was sitting on the desk, presumably the receptionist, was focused on strumming an electric guitar despite the myriad of distractions around the room.

"I got this," Alfred whispered to Matthew, indicating he'd do the talking for the both of them. It was just more efficient that way. One would take turns leading or following, depending on what needed to get done. Alfred found it easy to run his mouth to strangers, so he always took the job.

He approached the receptionist with Matthew trailing him. So far they hadn't been noticed yet as the receptionist 'tisk'ed and tried different chords, clearly in the zone and trying to compose an epic rift.

"Hey, that sounded pretty good!" Alfred complimented and tilted his head as he asked the brand of guitar.

The lady's head turned, startled at the sudden distraction. And Alfred was startled because his assumption was wrong. It wasn't a lady... oops.

"Thanks!" The young man said cheerfully, his wavy hair settling to frame his face as it bounced with his movements, only slightly coming up shorter than his chin. "-and yes it is. Are you a musician?"

"Nah," Alfred shrugged off the shock of needing to get his eyes checked again. He did know some chords, but he wouldn't say he was a musician musician. "But I live with one. Back home, that is."

"Right," the receptionist said and Alfred just couldn't place his accent. He only knew like, 4 accents from Hollywood movies so he had to really think about it. The man didn't sound like James Bond so he could rule out British. He didn't sound like the Nazis from Inglorious Bastards so he could rule out German. He didn't sound Italian or Russian from the many many mafia films. Hmmm... What other accents were there in Europe? It was hard to think about it while Matthew had a death grip on his arm. That dragged Alfred from his pondering. He looked around to try and figure out what was making his twin react but didn't really see anything alarming. Maybe he just didn't like how loud it was? Alfred would have to try and hurry this along then.

"So, are you checking in?" the receptionist jumped behind the counter and hid the guitar.

"Hah, day job?" Alfred jested as he filled in the paperwork from his booking. Signing in was relatively quick and proved that they were in fact, at the right place.

"Yes, one of many." The man lamented and Alfred found his accent very amusing. "I'm sure you know how musicians struggle."

"Yep, sucks," Alfred said as he was about to walk off, but Matthew held him in place. One great thing about being twins was, even though they couldn't read each other's minds, they got pretty damn close sometimes. Alfred sent him a questioning look and Matthew flicked his gaze between him and the receptionist. Alfred realised that Matthew wanted to talk to him but was too nervous, for whatever reason, and wanted Alfred to start off.

Alfred raised an eyebrow to question why, Matthew never had a problem talking with strangers before? Just because Alfred was better at it didn't mean Matthew couldn't take over.

"So," the receptionist said, "'ow long are you staying in England?"

"As long as possible, we're on a mission," Alfred said with determination.

"Ohonhon," the man laughed strangely. "And what would that be?"

"We're going to find our dad," Alfred said, then started probing to lengthen the conversation. "What about you? Why are you here?"

"Oh, I'm on a working visa," he shrugged. "Why I chose England, I don't know. It's so miserable here."

"I know! There's British people here!" Alfred joked. "But at least it isn't France!"

A dark shadow passed over the man's face and he genuinely looked offended.

"France is my 'ome country and I will not tolerate any disrespect. 'ow dare you say France is worse than England! 'ow dare you-"

"Whoa, I was just joking!" Alfred held his hands up in mock surrender. "I swear I knew you were French and I was just kidding! Cus we're buddies now, right?"

He actually didn't know he was French, but now he realised why Matthew wanted to talk to him so bad and was nervous about it.

"Of course, you were, stupid American," the man said smugly and Alfred let out a high-pitch scoff.

"Okay okay, enough stereotypes. If we're buddies we gotta move past that. Anyways, I'm Alfred and this is my brother who's not American, he's Canadian and he's been learning French since forever so here-" Alfred snatched Matthew's hand off his arm and pulled him in front of him, signalling he was in charge now. "So how about you too bond or whatever cus there are no French speakers in Chinatown and Mattie would really love someone to show off his French skills too."

"Oh really?" The receptionist said with interest, in French. "Well in that case I better start over. My name is Francis and I've been working here for over a year. How is your French? I'm so glad you've chosen to learn such a beautiful language. If you need someone to practise with I am more than happy to help you. Ah, say something! I have to know how well you can speak!"

Matthew blinked and forced himself to unfreeze. All he had to do was open his mouth and speak. No pressure. He's only been practising for how long?

"Hi! I am Matthew, it's nice to meet you. I don't speak very well but I try. I can understand you well. Is it nice to work here? This building is pretty-"

Matthew tried to ignore any verbs or tenses or pronunciation he got wrong, instead powering ahead with euphoria that he was finally putting all the skills he learned to the test. Everything was coming together like a piece of music, even if that music was being played by very untalented kids at a school musical. He couldn't contain his wild excitement as he tried to use as many words as he could and smiled when Francis nodded encouragingly. Matthew was so glad that Francis didn't have the stereotype of a typical Paris attitude of wanting to spit on anyone who tried to talk to you, or even just for pronouncing words wrong.

"You should be very proud! You speak very well. Not perfect, but I understand what you are saying!"

Meanwhile, Alfred had no clue what they were saying, but the sounds were really funny and entertaining enough on their own. He didn't know if he should be more proud of his brother or if he should be mocking him after. He picked out that the receptionist's name was Francis, but that was it.

"And you never learnt French?" Francis asked, then tutted as Alfred sheepishly shook his head.

"He promised we'd learn together," Matthew sighed.

"But there's no need to speak French!" Alfred insisted then squinted as the French speakers shared a look. Great, now they were definitely going to speak about him in French. "Anyway, what's the chances that the first guy we meet after landing is French? Good thing I didn't place any bets before we left cus I really didn't think we'd come across anyone. But I'm glad we did cus guess what dude? We're friends now and there's no takebacks!"

"Sounds good to me," Francis said pleasantly, before turning and saying something French to Matthew, making him giggle. Alfred crossed his arms when he heard 'something something American' in that comment.

"What did I say about stereotypes!"

"I just said that you're really friendly!" Francis said with a sly grin before changing the subject. "Well, I'd better do my job and show you around, no? I'll take it slow for you, kitchen's this way, the common area is down the hall, we don't have an uh, what do you call it? Lift? No, elevator. And the phone's broken."

Alfred looked at the phone on the wall. It looked kinda cool, like a landline but it had the numbers that spun.

"Man, really?" He whined.

"We have phones Al," Matthew pointed out. "This isn't the 2000's. There's free wifi here too."

"And thank fuck for that!" Alfred declared. "But I wanted to phone home on ye olde telephone like they do in the movies!"

"Well, there are phone booths outside," Francis offered at the same time a woman walked between the twins.

"Loo's free," she shouted.

Matthew didn't know exactly what that meant, but thankfully Alfred, who never held back or thought twice, voiced his question for him.

"Who's Lou?"

Francis giggled and Alfred had half the mind to be offended when suddenly the TV caught his attention.

"-when Lord Arthur Kirkland announced today that he was giving up his hereditary seat in the House of Lords to run for election as a commoner."

"Hey, it's him!" Alfred elbowed Matthew like it somehow escaped his attention too. "What does he mean by 'election'? Is he going for President?"

"I think it's Prime Minister," Matthew corrected absentmindedly as their father appeared on screen.

"Oui, 'e's quite popular, I think 'e 'as a chance," Francis commented.

"Well, in my mind," Arthur continued in a distinguished accent. "Why should the circumstances of my birth give me the right to make decisions for others? The only power I want is the power the people chose to give me."

"Damn," Alfred chucked. "It's like that one MewTwo quote, y'know, about how the circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant or whatever, it's what you choose is important and determines who you are."

"I doubt he knows what MewTwo even is," Matthew Mused.

"Yeah, I bet he'd call them 'pokemans'. Just listen to how he speaks! He's so fancy!"

"Well, in comparison. Not all Britons talk so nice. Try the night shift here when people are coming back from the pub." Francis grimaced.

"Oh shit, are those the ones without teeth and want to shank you?"

"That's why I'm standing in this election," Arthur continued. "Thank you."

The reporter pulled the mic back and let Arthur walk away.

"Lord Kirkland, who will marry his fiancee Glynnis Payne in the presence of royalty this summer and will also inherit a stepchild, the lovely Clarissa Payne."

Alfred sucked in a deep breath as his vision suddenly narrowed. He didn't even have to look to know that Matthew was just as shaken.

The reporter continued without regard for Alfred's churning stomach.

"But it's this surprising announcement of Lord Kirkland's that has caught everyone's attention. He appears to be an unstoppable political force and it remains to be seen how he performs this coming election."

It's not their father's political career that they care about... it's the fact that he seemed to have moved on with a new family... without them.

Before he even knew about them.

Their hotel room was small and quaint but it felt suffocating. There wasn't anything wrong with it but both twins were feeling equally unsettled as their confidence wavered.

Matthew suggested they go for a walk and the adventurous Alfred picked the route. Matthew was content to see the city from wherever Alfred led and Alfred went wherever his heart desired.

Eventually, they ended up by a riverbank, leaning on the stone wall and watching as boats sailed past. Neither had said anything up until then, and neither had to.

"I don't know if I can do this anymore," Alfred sighed and Matthew hummed.

"But we've come this far. We can't go back now."

"He's got a whole family!" Alfred grumbled, "He doesn't need us."

"We flew halfway around the world for this! We've wanted this our whole lives!"

"I know!" Alfred retorted and dragged his hands through his hair. "But we're not elegant or sophisticated fancy pants Bri'ish or anything like he is!"

"Maybe it won't matter? Don't you want to try?" Matthew pleaded.

"Yes, you know I do!" Alfred slammed his fists down. "How about we try once and if he doesn't want us then we'll let him get on with his life."

It went unsaid that if Arthur turned them away, if he didn't want them or didn't care for them, something inside Alfred and Matthew would be irreversibly broken. It would never be able to be repaired.

"So, I'm starving, how about we find a Mc D's?" Alfred appealed, completely changing the tone of the scene. He pulled a face when Matthew gave him a less-than-impressed look.

"Whaaaat? I know you like McD's too! Sheesh, you're saying you really aren't hungry?"

"Can we see if they have Tim Hortons?"

"How about whichever we find first?"

"Fine."

Before returning back to the hotel, they made sure to throw out any fast food evidence in the bin outside. Alfred really didn't want to get harassed for his nationality again and fast food was just fuel to the fire. Ha ha fat Americans like McDonalds, can you think of anything better? Did enjoying fast food erase his depth as a human?

Oh well, he could always say that Francis ate snails louder and louder until Francis gave up.

He forgot about that when Francis waved to them from his position on the front counter and the twins went over. It was a little too late in the day to act on their plans, so first thing tomorrow they'd go hunt their father down. But for now, they'd have fun hanging out with their new friend.

Francis showed them what he was working on with his guitar and curiously asked why they were so enamoured by the TV earlier, and why they had such a strong reaction. After sharing a look, the twins told them about why they came to England. Both humoured and intrigued by the tale, all Francis could say to that was good luck.

It was only the next day that they realised they didn't add Francis on anything. Alfred mentally facepalmed. Are you really friends with someone if you didn't have them on insta? Matthew reassured him that they knew where to find Francis and he would definitely be adding him on everything.

"Poor guy, his only crime was being French," Alfred said. "I mean, that is pretty criminal, but still. You just want to force him to practise French with you."

Matthew just insulted Alfred in French and laughed as Alfred became increasingly desperate to know what he said.