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A soft rapture emitted against the doorframe to Alfred’s room, almost shy in nature.
It was nearly, if not past, three in the morning that December day. The wind howled viciously with the promise of an oncoming snowstorm that surely left the temperature outside below freezing. When Alfred had returned from his late night rendezvous with Ivan, he’d half expected the power to have been knocked out. Upon entrance, however, he found that to not be the case. He checked up on everyone’s whereabouts as stealthily as possible, feeling satisfied when he saw both Matthew and his parents’ bedroom doors shut with no light pooling out from underneath. They’d all been asleep and any and all potential for confrontation would have no choice but to be pushed back until tomorrow.
Or at least that’s what Alfred thought until he heard the knock. Part of him foolishly hoped that he’d see Mattie the moment he turned around, but he knew that that would be impossible. Had it been his twin, the courtesy of knocking wouldn’t have been bestowed upon Alfred. The wheat blonde would’ve barged in, immediately airing his grievances about the fight that had transpired and Alfred’s whereabouts whilst complaining about Alfred not letting him go with him all before falling into a somber emotion that Alfred couldn’t quite pinpoint a name to while the older twin did his best to make sure Alfred was truly alright after the harsh argument. There’d been a total of one time in which Alfred willingly fell into his twin’s open and waiting arms as tears rolled down his face and sobs got choked up in his throat. The two agreed to never talk about it again for Alfred’s sake.
Alfred also subconsciously knew that his “visitor” couldn’t be Francis either. No matter the situation or circumstance, the Frenchman had a specific knock pattern that never changed. It was five quick knocks followed by a pause and two slower knocks. It was always loud and never faltered. This knock, however, not only didn’t match Francis’s pattern, but it also sounded hesitant.
Which only left…
“I don’t want to talk to you tonight,” Alfred said lowly without turning to face the intruder.
“Alfred, I-”
“It’s late, I’m tired, and to be blunt there’s not a thing you have to say that I want to hear.”
There was a brief moment of silence, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Alfred hadn’t heard footsteps he would have thought that the Englishman had walked away. It was never that easy, though. “Lad, please, I-”
“You what?” Alfred interjected, finally turning to meet the emerald gaze of his dad. “Don’t sit there and try to tell me you’re sorry. Do you honestly think I can believe a word that comes out of your mouth? Look, I might not be smart like Mattie, but I’m not stupid,” Alfred didn’t miss the way Arthur flinched at that last statement. “I see how differently you treat us. While you praise him for all the good he does, I get crapped on for any and all screw ups I commit, tiny or not. No matter how hard I try, nothing’s ever good enough for you, and I’m so,” his voice gave a crack as his eyes began to water, “so sick of stretching myself so thin just to impress you. I’m not Mattie, Dad, and I never will be. I’m sorry I’m the fuck up twin who can barely do anything right. I’m sorry you and Papa got stuck with me, when you wished you’d only adopted Mattie, but please please don’t come in here and apologize after you told me how you really feel about me.”
Alfred would deny that there were any tears running down his cheeks, but he couldn’t help but notice the ones that fell from Arthur’s eyes.
The Brit shook his head fiercely, as though the action would rid him of his tears. He didn’t speak, not at first, but instead stepped further into the room and gently shut the door behind him. To both of their surprise, Alfred didn’t protest. Arthur’s breath was unmistakably tremulous, and while Alfred didn’t want to talk to the older man, he didn’t want to see Arthur cry more. “I know the last thing you want right now is to talk to me, and that’s completely fair after the atrocious things I said to you, but please, if you listen to anything I say tonight, at least listen to what I have to say next.”
Alfred looked at Arthur skeptically, almost inclined to turn down his plea immediately, but between the desperation in his voice and the abundance of tears that accumulated in his eyes, Alfred didn’t have the heart. He sat on his bed wordlessly, the mattress creaking slightly with the added weight as he looked expectantly at his dad to continue his words, arms crossed over his chest. Alfred noticed the glimmer of hope that shone brightly in his father’s eyes, making his heart feel slightly heavier.
Arthur wrung his hands together nervously, emerald eyes boring directly into sky blue ones. “Alfred…there are many… many things I’ve done in my life that I regret. I was not the best person through my highschool years, and I regret every grievance I caused my friends and strangers by my own selfish and destructive actions. I regret not getting as close to my brothers as I could have. I regret not spending as much time with my mother as I could have. I regret not telling your bloody frog of a father that I loved him sooner. That’s just a short list that I can think of off the top of my head,” Arthur laughed breathily, rapidly blinking his eyes so as to not let the buildup of tears to spill across his cheeks. “But out of everything I’ve done in my life…Alfred, there are a total of two things I’ve done that I could never ever dispute as being anything but correct. One was saying yes to your father,” he swallowed thickly. “And the other is adopting you and Matthew.”
Alfred quickly opened his mouth, to refute Arthur’s claim no doubt, but the Englishman cut him off quickly. “Please, I’m not finished, Alfred. When I am…you may say anything you want or need to,” At the proposition, Alfred’s mouth shut, his own watery eyes watching Arthur cautiously.
The older blonde gave a slight sigh before gesturing towards the bed. For a moment, Alfred looked unsure, but it wasn’t long before he conceded, giving a gentle nod in response. Arthur sat next to the teenager, the bed dipping delicately from the added weight. Arthur folded his hands in front of himself tightly, almost as though he needed to hold something in order to keep himself composed. “Your papa and I were married for two years. By that time, he’d already stabilized the restaurant, and I’d already secured my job with the university. Financially we were stable. We had two well paying incomes, a home, and our relationship was healthy as could be,” Arthur let out an airy laugh. “Francis had always made little comments here and there about having kids. ‘Oh, but Arthur, a tiny version of us would be magnificent…so long as they don’t inherit your eyebrows!’”
Alfred snorted. “Thank God for that.”
“Hey!” Arthur cried out, but couldn’t find genuinely angry words as he watched his son dissolve into a fit of laughter. This was the first time Alfred smiled since the fight. He couldn’t stop his own lips from tugging up into a grin. “Anyways,” he continued, “he always made little offhanded comments like that, and for the longest time I just brushed them off as no more than jokes. But one night he came home, and…I’ll never forget the look on his face,” Arthur’s face fell as he recalled the memory. “He wasn’t smiling like he typically did. His mouth was downturned in this neverending frown that absolutely drove me mad. His eyes didn’t hold the same sense of vibrancy that they typically do. He looked so heartbroken, so…defeated. Like he was painfully longing for something just out of reach. I’d never seen him so upset before. The first couple of times I asked him what was wrong, he’d deflect it and make some sort of halfhearted joke. Eventually, I’d had enough and asked again, not leaving room for diversions. He’d grown quiet…face falling as he realized he’d been caught. It was then that he truthfully, devoid of all humor, expressed to me that he really wanted children,” Arthur’s nails dug into his fists. “Alfred, I was absolutely terrified. I’d never been cozy with the idea of being a father, not since my own walked out and took my confidence with him. I was so horrified that I’d be a lousy parent…just like he was. I still am, truth be told. I hadn’t outrightly told him no, but I hadn’t said yes, either. The issue of kids persisted for another six months before a dear friend of ours came to find she was expecting. We gave our deepest congratulations, but she seemed worried. She was in no position to care for a child, and she feared she wouldn’t be able to provide for them. And Francis…God, the bloody frog, that was all he could talk about the moment we’d parted ways from her. He begged and pleaded with me that we offer to adopt her child, and I just…” Arthur’s breath grew shaky with unshed tears.
“I was so bloody scared. But Francis…he looked so excited, so invigorated. How could I say no? He was thrilled, as was our friend because then she knew her child would be going to a good family. And of course I damn near passed out when we came to find out that there were twins,” Arthur laughed, smile becoming a bit warmer when he heard Alfred laugh a little as well. “And God, when you both were born, the terror within me subsided, even if just momentarily. You both were so small and fit perfectly in our arms. You were healthy and strong. The doctors had said that you two were the healthiest set of twins he’d seen in a while. We were devastated when the adoption agency denied us the ability to take you both home. Something about some misplaced paperwork. Francis cried himself to sleep the first night we couldn’t bring you both home, absolutely overwrought with grief and anxiety. I did my best to console him, but nothing I did could ever fill that hole you two left. I could only hold him tight and do my best to reassure him that we’d get you two back.”
Alfred unconsciously began to lean into the Brit, much like he had when he was smaller and Arthur would tell them bedtime stories. “And you were right.”
“And I’ve never been more thankful to be right about something in my entire life,” Arthur admitted, for now ignoring the urge to pull Alfred under his arm. “That first night you two came home, everything just…clicked. Holding you and Matthew felt so unmistakably right, and I couldn’t even begin to fathom why I’d been so nervous to begin with. Of course the anxieties came back as time went on, but that’s unavoidable,” Arthur shook his head gently. “As you both began to grow, I began to see so much of myself in you. From your curiosity to that slight bit of arrogance we both share. I suppose I saw all of the things I perceived as bad within me in you.”
The confession was slightly shocking to Alfred. Never once did he believe he’d hear his dad admit that he had faults, parts of himself he didn’t like. Arthur was always composed, prim and proper, unless he was within the heat of an argument. Alfred and his dad were polar opposites by every name of the game. What on Earth did Arthur see similar in them? “What do you mean?” He asked. “What do you see in me that you don’t like?”
Alfred’s wording made Arthur’s heart ache more than he’d care to admit. “Love, I adore every part of you. You’re absolutely, beautifully perfect in every sense of the word, and I wouldn’t change one bloody thing about you.” Emerald eyes locked onto sky blue ones that took a watery sheen at the heartfelt words.
Alfred shook his head in confusion, voice becoming strained. “Then what do you…”
Arthur sighed, leaning back against the wall behind Alfred’s bed. Alfred followed in suit, still looking intensely at Arthur as though he’d find all of his answers within the older man’s eyes. “You can be rebellious,” Arthur began slowly. “You’re not often, but you sometimes sneak out, and other times you’ll return home drunk. When I was your age, I was quite similar, except I went out much more frequently. I’m terrified you’ll become like me…drinking almost every night as though your liver can take it and not giving a damn about the consequences. You could get hurt or worse, and I’m so bloody scared that one night you’ll sneak out, and I’ll wake up and you won’t be home,” Arthur admitted solemnly, eyes downcasting towards the bland navy blue bedding on Alfred’s mattress, all the while stormy eyes continued to bore into the side of his head. “You can be reckless. Doing random stunts at the drop of a hat simply for the hell of it. I used to be the same way, but a lot stupider, and I don’t want you to be like me in that sense,” Arthur pulled his knees up to his chest, sock covered feet sinking slightly into the comforter. “I took the wrong way of addressing issues that popped up and because of that I’ve damaged our relationship. There are by far more effective ways to solve our problems, and I tried to do so in the least effective way. I’m so hard on you because I want you to be better than me, and since I’ve been blinded by our similarities I failed to notice that you already are and always have been.”
Alfred slowly shook his head in denial, no matter how desperately he wished to believe his dad. There was no way he was or ever could be better than him. Arthur was intelligent and always seemed to know what to do. There was never a moment in Alfred’s life where his dad had been anywhere near short of perfect. He was the ideal role model, a perfect person that Alfred could only hope to be a fraction of. Alfred was the problem child, the fuck up, that never should’ve been born. Mattie was the only one who was supposed to exist, not him. He was just a mistake, a horribly ugly mistake that caused more problems than he was worth. Their family would’ve been better off if he didn’t exist. He should just-
“Stop that.”
Had he said that aloud?
Hands carefully cupped his cheeks, thumbs swiping vehemently under his eyes as they tried to wipe away tears Alfred hadn’t even realized he’d begun to let out. Alfred, once he came out of his own head, realized he was peering into hardened and pained green orbs that held their own unshed tears. Thick eyebrows were downturned in a sternness that Alfred was accustomed to, but there was another emotion hidden within his father’s face that he so seldom saw he wasn’t sure if he had a name for it.
“Never ever say such atrocious things about yourself again. Do you understand me?” His voice was so firm, expression more so, and Alfred found himself nodding on autopilot, not genuinely listening to his dad. Arthur was quick to notice that, however, hands continuing to cup his son’s face. “Listen to me, Alfred,” the Englishman practically begged. “Out of all the times I really need you to listen, this might be the most important,” Once again, Alfred nodded, and Arthur could only hope that the boy was listening. “You are not, nor have you ever been, a mistake,” Arthur said slowly, allowing time for the heavy and sincere words to sink in. When he saw the storm within Alfred’s eyes dissipate some and the orbs widen, Arthur knew a chord was struck. “I am beyond blessed to have been able to adopt you and Matthew both. You boys have made life worth so much more that I could ever put into words. And I mean that for both of you. Not just Matthew. You as well.”
Arthur’s thumbs continued to work underneath Alfred’s eyes as the teen’s tears grew faster. “But you said-”
“I know what I said,” Arthur stated a bit harshly, almost as if he was infuriated with himself, “and I need you to understand that I lied. I got caught up within the heat of the argument, and that’s by no means an excuse, and I regret every lie I told you. I am so glad to have you as my son and watching you grow up has been the best part of my life. You don’t mean the world to me, Alfred, you are my world, and I am so so sorry I said what I said. I know there’s nothing at all I can do to take those words back, but I just need you to know that I didn’t mean them, not in the slightest. You are an important part of this family, and if we ever lost you…Alfred we’d be absolutely devastated.”
Alfred’s breathing was shaky and noisy, not quite sobbing yet, but just on the precipice. He shook his head quickly as though he couldn’t believe it, not everything he’s heard and told himself. But eventually he allowed the sincerity within Arthur’s words to flood over him like a wave with every intention of sweeping him out to sea. Arthur barely had time to think before Alfred collapsed in his arms, a sniveling mess. “I’m sorry, too,” he said, though it was muffled against Arthur’s shirt. “I didn’t mean it, either. You’re not a lousy parent, I was just angry and hurt. You’ve always been an amazing dad, and I’m so sorry we’re always fighting.”
The words were nice to hear, if Arthur was honest. There was always that unconscious fear ringing loudly in the back of his head that he wouldn’t amount to anything more than what his own father had been. Hearing otherwise helped quiet those fears a smidge. “We’ve got some work to do,” Arthur admitted, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Alfred’s back. “These fights aren’t just one of our faults, we both have things to work on. But I want us to be able to do them together.”
Alfred hummed in acknowledgement, giving a gentle sniffle. “Me, too.”
Arthur shifted slightly so he could fully envelop the eighteen-year-old within his arms, which proved to be a bit difficult considering Alfred was considerably taller than the Englishman, but Arthur made it work. “Francis suggested family therapy,” The way Alfred tensed in Arthur’s arms didn’t go unnoticed. “He’s torn that our family has grown into the disarray that it has, and…while the idea is slightly uncomfortable to me, I’m willing to try anything that allows us to live as happily as we used to. And it wouldn’t just be you and I. Francis and Matthew could benefit from it as well. I believe we all could. What do you think, love?”
Alfred chewed on his bottom lip nervously. Talking about his feelings and thoughts had never been an easy feat. Hell, even his talk with Ivan just hours ago proved to be uncomfortable in some aspects…but he agreed with the notion that their family couldn’t keep on like this. And if there was even the slightest bit of a chance that they could live happily again… “It’s worth a shot,” he eventually settled on, moving his face out of Arthur’s shirt and opting to lean his cheek heavily against Arthur’s shoulder.
Arthur smiled warmly, patting Alfred’s back. “I’m glad you think so, too.”
The two stayed like that for a moment longer, Arthur holding Alfred as though the teenager was small again, and the aforementioned boy clinging to the older as though his life depended on it. It was a moment so rare, so foreign, yet oh so pleasantly welcome that the two didn’t want to break away, and they wouldn’t have either.
Had it not been for…
“Hey, Alfie,” came a soft tone at Alfred’s door, the wooden barrier creaking open, “are you ho-” Matthew’s voice trailed off.
Arthur and Alfred didn’t have time to scramble away from each other before violet orbs landed on their mushy display. Even so, the two found they didn’t care as much as they originally thought they would have. Still, Alfred slowly broke away from Arthur’s gentle hold, sitting up on his knees. The warm smile that graced Matthew’s lips was unlike anything the two had witnessed before. “So I assume you two have made up?”
Arthur and Alfred flashed a glance towards each other, their own smiles painting across their lips. “As much as we can for now,” Arthur explained. “There’s plenty more to talk about, though. And plenty more to work on.”
“I’ll say,” Matthew interjected, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door frame. “But I’m glad you both are on good terms now.”
After a quick glance at the digital alarm clock on Alfred’s bedside table, Arthur dubbed it too late to be up much later, as the family had much to discuss in the morning. Arthur pressed a kiss to the top of Alfred’s head, bidding the teen goodnight before standing from the bed and moving towards the doorway where Matthew stood. Matthew ducked his head down given he was much taller than Arthur, allowing the Englishman to press his lips to the top of his head as well, also bidding the older twin a goodnight. With that, the older blonde moved down the hallway and entered his room where a sleeping Frenchman awaited him.
Once Matthew knew Arthur was no longer within earshot, the older twin moved swiftly toward the younger, promptly giving a harsh thwack on top of Alfred’s head.
“Ow!” Alfred cried out, a hand flinging to hold the assaulted area. “What the hell was that for?”
“For leaving home without so much as an explanation as to where you were going,” Matthew explained, face getting dangerously close to Alfred’s. “Honestly, when are you going to learn that you doing that stresses me out to no end!”
Alfred sighed, leaning back against the wall behind his bed. “I’m sorry, Mattie, I don’t mean to stress you out, I just…couldn’t stay here.”
At Alfred’s tired resolve, Matthew’s angry one faltered a bit, the taller leaning back on the balls of his heels. “I know. I just freak out when I don’t know where you’re going after something like that. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I know, I know. I’m careful.”
Matthew looked at Alfred with a deadpan expression. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”
Alfred rolled his eyes, moving to grab his phone out of the back of his pocket. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Seriously,” Matthew urged, face contorted in concern, “you get me really nervous. I don’t want to stay up all night waiting for you only for you to never return.”
Alfred paused in his actions, wide eyes gazing at his brother. He licked his lips, eyes looking as though he’s about to say something before he shakes his head, choosing not to. He continued to pull out his phone and unlock it. “That won’t happen, Mattie,” he insisted. “You can’t get rid of me that easily. We’re twins, bro.”
Matthew smiled at Alfred’s words, plopping unceremoniously next to his lookalike. “And twins stick together,” Matthew continued, raising a fist in Alfred’s direction as they used to do so often as kids.
Alfred smiled ecstatically at his brother, his own fist meeting Matthew’s in a fistbump. “Forever and ever,” Alfred finished off, the two dissolving into a fit of laughter at their “finish the phrase” statement. Soon, though, Alfred’s attention was turned back towards his phone, thumbs typing quickly.
Matthew quirked an eyebrow up. “Who are you texting?”
Alfred’s face flushed red. “N-No one.”
“Liar,” Matthew stated blandly, eyes analyzing Alfred’s face further before a realization dawned upon him. Matthew smirked. “So…you and Ivan finally get together?”
Alfred’s face burned even brighter, the younger twin quickly grabbing a pillow from his bed and whacking Matthew with it. “Shut up.”
“Haha!” Matthew laughed, pumping a victorious fist in the air. “Gil owes me ten bucks!”
“You and your own boyfriend had bets on my love life?” Alfred cried out in shock.
Matthew shrugged nonchalantly, standing up from Alfred’s bed. “Just a small one,” he amended. “But then again, I think most of your friend group does. The pining was so painfully obvious .”
Alfred simply grumbled underneath his breath, resuming his text message, face still bright red.
Matthew chuckled, deciding now would be a good time for him to head out, considering how late it was. “Hey,” he called softly, gaining Alfred’s attention. “I love you.”
Alfred smiled warmly at his brother, finally feeling content for the first time that day. “I love you, too.”
With that, Matthew showed himself out of Alfred’s room, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Alfred let out a sigh of relief, allowing the serenity of the night to wash over him after a day of chaos. He stood from his bed to turn off the lights, not bothering to change into his pajamas. He fell recklessly on top of his bed once more, the only light in his room emanating from his phone screen that pinged every now and again when he received a message from Ivan.
How’d things go?
Alfred smiled at his screen, a warmth growing in the pit of his stomach that grew up and into his chest.
Better than I expected .
He waited a moment longer, taking the time to plug his phone in so in the event he fell asleep, his phone would charge through the night. When the next ping resounded through his room, he was quick to check the message.
So are things between you and Arthur better?
Alfred bit his lip as he typed his response.
Things are a work in progress, but I think we’re on the road to getting better.
And that thought alone was enough to lull Alfred into a calm sleep that he hadn’t received in what felt like ages.