Archive of Our Own

"You know," Francis murmurs the words wistfully, "I always thought we'd get married one day."

And it isn't fair, they've only been together for two years, they've barely had any time together, and now this damn illness is trying to steal Francis away. It isn't fair, but life's never been fair, and Arthur is trying not to fall apart as the person he loves dies in front of him. 

"Francis-"

"We'd have a house," Francis continues, "not a large one, but it would have a little yard you could garden in, and I'd cook for you every day, and maybe we'd even adopt a couple children."

Arthur doesn't reply. He can't, even if he wants too, shaking from the sobs he's trying (and failing) to supress. 

"Maybe twins," Francis muses, staring blankly into a future that Arthur can never see. "That way it wouldn't matter even if we each had a favourite child, because they'd still get the same amount of love." He breathes out a whispy laugh. "We'd live together, the four of us, and I'd bicker with you about stupid things, and one day they'd go through a rebellious period, or move out, and-"

There's a sudden thinness to Francis's tone, like all the life was sucked out. 

"Ha, and we'd grow old and die together..." 

Something bitter twinges Francis's tone, and Arthur knows what it is. Francis takes a moment to breathe, like it's suddenly hard, then exhales in a tight sigh. 

"Well, I'm... I'm sorry I had to go first, Arthur, but I'm glad it's me, not you." 

And Arthur tries to argue, tries to tell Francis he's wrong, he's not dying, that he's going to get better-

But he can't even convince himself that anymore, and his sobs are choking him, raking his chest with the effort. Francis's grip slakens, and Arthur knows. 

It's time. 

He struggles to get ahold of himself enough to force out a final sentence, but he manages in a thick voice. 

"Wait for me, frog. I'll come find you, so-" 

Francis doesn't reply, no returning grip tightening around his hand, not even a wheeze. Not even the rise and fall of his chest. And Arthur knows. He knows that Francis is gone. And there's no one left to hide his tears from, no one left to see him break down. So he does, he cries till his head pounds and throat is raw and hoarse, and his stomach turns from the force of his sobs. 

He cries until he can't anymore, then cries more anyways, dry sobs that rattle his lungs and hurt his chest. He cries until he has no choice but to give up, and fades into a heavy sleep, still gripping a still-warm and unresponsive hand. 

"Alfred, and Mathew." The social worker introduces the two little kids, both staring at him with wide blue eyes, innocent and wary. "Their parents passed in a car accident and they had no one else to take them." 

And Arthur looks into the eyes of two little children who are grieving and alone, and sees himself reflected in their eyes. He drops down to one knee, to their level, and offers what little he has. 

"Hello, Alfred, Mathew. I - my name is Arthur. My. .." He takes a deep breath, and tries again. "I'm all alone right now too. If it's okay with you, I'd like to be your family." 

And the twins look to eachother for reassurance, and one of them steps forwards bravely. 

"You're not our Dad." Alfred wavers. "We already have a Dad." 

And Arthur smiles a bit at that, not because it's funny, but because of how incredibly unfunny it is. Because he knows the feeling behind the words Alfred said.

"I know. I don't have to be your dad, though. I can be your big brother instead, or just Arthur?" 

Alfred lip quivers, like he's not ready to believe Arthur's words. 

"Mattie too?" 

Mathew clings to his twin's hand like he's the only lifeboat in a stormy ocean, and Alfred grip is just as tight on Mathew's hand. Arthur's heart aches. 

"Of course, both of you, together." 

And Alfred looks back and Mathew, and Mathew also takes a timid step forward, and Alfred reaches out his small hand to take Arthur's outstretched one. 

"Okay." 

Arthur never knew the broken waver in a child's voice could hurt as much as as heartbreak before.

He thinks it must be a miracle that sent him the two twins with their blond hair and blue eyes, so much like Francis. Like the universe is trying to compensate for what he's lost by giving him the family he's dreamed of. 

"Are you sure?" The social worker presses later, in private, "I mean, I'm grateful that you want two, it's so hard to keep family together, and most people just want one, but -"

And Arthur knows why they ask, a single father with two kids, it won't be easy. But life's never been easy for Arthur, and he's not single, not really. He still loves Francis, and he knows Francis still loves him. It's just a long distance relationship. 

He knows they'll meet again one day. 

"I'm sure." Arthur Kirkland, father of two, replies. 

"Alfred," Arthur scolds, "were you in the garden again?"

"Huh?" Alfred looks up from the table, where he's doodling on his homework. "No."

"Really?" Arthur presses. "Because someone's messed with the roses, and I told you they're not ready to cut yet."

"I didn't!" Alfred wrinkles his nose. "What would I want with some dumb flowers?"

Across the table, his twin, Mathew is very pointedly not looking up from his homework, face flushed in a telling way. Arthur raises an eyebrow and turns to him.

"Mathew?" 

And the second Mathew meets Arthur's eyes, he spills everything. 

"I'm sorry! It's just... It's Francis's birthday and I wanted to give him a present, and you said flowers are his fav'rit, so-" 

In a second, Arthur's indignation fades and he softens, crossing the room to ruffle Mathew's hair.

"That's tomorrow, Mathew." 

Mathew flushes harder, and Arthur smiles fondly. 

"It's okay, he can have one present a day early. We'll put them in a vase, okay? I'm sure he'll love them." 

"I didn't forget!" Alfred yelps, clearly haven forgotten, "I'm making a present too! But it's for tomorrow!" 

And Arthur chuckles a bit as he replies. 

"That good, he can have Mathew's gift today, and Alfred's tomorrow!" 

Satisfied, Alfred settles back down, and Arthur's gaze drifts to the mantle.

"See, Francis? Our family hasn't forgotten you." 

And Francis's picture smiles back at the family that loves him, even when two of them never even met him. Arthur's never felt more loved. 

"Oh, but Mathew?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You still have to ask first before taking things from the garden." 

"Happy Birthday, Arthur!" 

"This-" Arthur's throat feels tight, and his eyes burn like he's about to cry, and he puts down his fork suddenly so the boys won't see his hand shaking.

"Do you like it?" Mathew asks nervously. "It's my first time making it, but it's one of Francis's recipes. .. We got it from his recipe book?"

And it takes all Arthur has not to break down in tears right there. Instead, he pushes back his chair and stands up, sweeping both of his kids into a tight bear hug.

"It's perfect," He chokes out, "Thank you."

He doesn't tell them that for that first bite, he'd almost thought Francis was back, that somehow they'd finally achieved Francis's dream from all those years ago. That it felt like the whole family was there. He doesn't know how to. So instead, he just says "Thank you."

Alfred wiggles out of his hug, embarrassed. 

"I barely did anything. It was mostly Matt." 

"No way!" Mathew protests, "I couldn't have done it without Al's help. He had to read me the whole recipe... I can't read Francis's handwriting."

And it all feels so impossible and surreal, in their little house with a small backyard and a garden for Arthur, eating Francis's cooking with his twin boys that he loves more than life itself. It feels like Francis himself is still watching over them, somehow influencing fate from beyond the grave to give Arthur the perfect family life they always wanted. The only things that's missing is the bickering over stupid things. And Arthur does miss it, more than he ever would have thought.

"But then again," Arthur can't help but think, "maybe we did enough bickering for the rest of our lives already."

And Mathew and Alfred give him his presents, a new teapot and a rose bush for his garden, and all Arthur can think about is how lucky he is to have the twins. 

"It's going to be red," Mathew explains. 

"Red for love." Francis always used to say. And so Arthur says the same. 

"Thank you both so much. I love you both." 

And Mathew flushes and Alfred avoids eyecontact as they both return the feeling. 

"Love you too, Arthur." 

"I can do what I want!" Alfred rages. "I'm eighteen, that's legally an adult! And if I want to move out, you can't stop me!" 

And Arthur opens his mouth to say that even if he's not their father, he is their guardian, and that he's only trying-

...He doesn't even know what he's trying to do. What's right for them? His best? Maybe it doesn't matter anyways, because Alfred doesn't give him the chance to argue just throws open the door and storms out, bag in hand, slamming the door behind him, and Arthur feels sick, actually nauseous, like he's moments from throwing up, and he sinks down into a chair, holding his head. 

"What did I do wrong?" 

And from behind him, a soft voice answers. 

"You didn't do anything wrong, Arthur. It's just Alfred's ready to move out and find his own place in life, that's all." 

And Arthur twists to see Mathew, trying to put on a mature face like the absence of his twin won't bother him, like he's okay with it, because he needs to be okay with it, because Arthur, their guardian, can't be. 

"But he's only eighteen!" Arthur protests weakly. "You both are." 

"I know," Mathew says gently. "But it doesn't mean he can't take care of himself, Arthur. And Even if he messes up, you have to give him a chance first." 

And there's a sudden fear in his heart. When did Mathew start sounding so mature? When did the two little boys he'd adopted all those years ago grow up? His children, so young, so naive, are leaving him, it won't be long now, and though Arthur knows it's irrational, he still wants to cling to that family in that home, the only way he's ever known family. Today, Alfred. Tomorrow-

His throat is tight when he tries to speak again. 

"What about you, Mathew?" 

And he knows he shouldn't ask, that he shouldn't try to stop his kids from living their best life, but the fear inside feels like a hand clenching tight on his heart, and without his kids, Arthur doesn't know what he'll do. He buries his head in his hands again, but this time he can't stop the tears from leaking. 

Mathew leans over the back of the chair, wrapping his arms around Arthur from behind. 

"Not yet," Mathew says in a tone too light to be natural, "I like mooching off you and not paying bills." 

And it's pathetic, but Arthur is so tragically grateful that at least one of his kids isn't leaving just yet. That he can play make-believe at their family a little while longer before both of his kids are gone and he's left all alone. But it doesn't erase the sense of foreboding. 

"Not yet." Mathew had said. But one day, he would leave. And Arthur would have to support him when that day comes, not like with Alfred. He just hopes Mathew is staying because he truly want to, and not because of Arthur's breakdown. He lets himself indulge in the hug a bit longer, then coughs to try and clear the lump in his throat, and raises his head. 

"I should apologize to Alfred." 

Mathew makes a hum sound. "Mmm. Yeah. But maybe later? I don't think he's in the mood to listen right now." 

Arthur winces, then snorts suddenly, surprising himself. 

"Good point." He tries to slyly wipe his eyes and nose with a handkerchief without Mathew noticing, but life's never been easy for Arthur, and his son pulls away awkwardly. 

"Uh, I'll make some tea." 

And Arthur smiles though his tears. 

"Tea would be nice." 

And when Mathew leaves the quietness in the room isn't quite so unbearable, and Arthur's heart feels a little less shaky when he looks to his lover for advice.

"Is this what you meant, Frog? That one day they'd be rebellious and move out?" 

He takes a shuddering breath. The life that seemed so perfect years ago when Francis described it doesn't seem so perfect now. He'd known the day was coming, he just didn't expect it so soon. It hurts more than expected. 

"But then again, in that dream you were supposed to be with me." 

When Francis had passed, his friends and family had told him "time heals all wounds", but Arthur felt like the loneliness only got worse with time. But Mathew reappears with two cups of tea, and tomorrow he'll call Alfred and apologize and offer to help his son move as a peace offering, and be the parent he should be, and enjoy the time he still has with Mathew. One day, Mathew will leave too, but for now, Arthur will focus on what he has, and deal with the loneliness later. 

"Here, you go. Is that the last bag? You didn't forget anything, right?" 

Arthur hovers nervously, and Mathew laughs. 

"Yes, I've got everything, calm down, Arthur." 

"What about your toothbrush? And your phone cord? Oh! I should send you some tea-" 

"Arthur! Chill!" Mathew holds up a hand. "I'm moving across town, not the world. If I forget something, I'll just come by and pick it up." 

Moving. The day Arthur had been dreading for four years. And now it's come, and Mathew is finally moving out, and Arthur wishes Mathew did forget something, if only so he'd have an excuse to keep him there a bit longer. 

"I know, I know, it's just-"

Arthur bites his lip, unwillinging to show how clingy he really is, trying to act mature for his kids. 

"You weren't like this when I moved out." Alfred grumbles, crossing his arms and leaning again the truck. 

Arthur frowns. "Mathew told me first, and not just a week before he left. I had time to process this time." 

Alfred mutters something under his breath that has Arthur shooting him a glare. 

"You're not too old for me to wash your mouth out with soap, Alfred." 

Alfred shuts his mouth tight and slouches more. 

"Cut it out!" Mathew chides. "Are you here to bicker, or to help me move?" 

Arthur softens. 

"I'll miss you, Mathew." 

And something passes over Mathew's face. 

"I'll miss you too, Arthur." 

"Didn't you just say it's just across town?" Alfred  grumbles. "And cell phones exist, just call him, sheesh." 

Arthur very maturely does not tell Alfred "And that's why I don't miss you." Because he does miss Alfred, more than he'd like to admit. Now that he's an independent adult, Alfred is too busy "living his life" to come visit much anymore, and phone calls just aren't the same. Arthur swallows hard. 

"That's enough, off you go. Remember to call me later." 

And Mathew laughs and gives him one last hug, and him and Alfred hop in the truck and drive off and Arthur is left alone in the driveway. For a moment, he just stands. Then, with a deep sigh, he fishes a cigarette from his pocket and lights it. 

"At the very least, now I can smoke in peace." He mutters to himself, but even to Arthur his tone sounds fake and bitter. He breathes deeply, and exhakes a cloud of smoke as he watches the road where Mathew's truck had disappeared from sight. 

"Now what, Francis?" He whispers. "What am I supposed to do now?"

But Francis isn't there to answer, and the only thing Arthur has left to look forward to is meeting him again. 

"Really? I told you not to bring anything! I made everything already!" 

Is the first thing Mathew says to Arthur when he opens the door. 

"It's pie." Arthur can't think of anything else to say. 

"Alfred already brought a pie!" Mathew sounds exasperated, but he still steps out of the way to let Arthur in his apartment. 

"It's Alfred," Arthur returns dryily as Mathew takes the offending dish off him so he can take off his shoes and coat. "I'm sure he can eat one all to himself."

Mathew snorts at that and lifts the foil to peer at the pie dubiously. 

"What kind?" 

Arthur knows why Mathew's acting this way, he's never been the best at baking, but-

"Apple. I tried making Francis's recipe." 

It was one of the first of Francis's recipes Mathew learned how to make, and he used to make it for special occasions. And even though Arthur has never quite figured out how to make crust (in fact, he's cheated and used a store-bought one) the thought of not having the familiar taste this Christmas had gotten him down, so he tried his best. And this way... 

This way it feels a little more like Francis is still with them, even though Christmas is held at Mathew's this year and not his home. Mathew seems to understand and softens. 

"I'll put it on the table." 

There's voices in the living room, and Arthur furrows his brow. 

"Is there someone else over?" 

Mathew makes a noise like he's remembering something and suddenly makes a guilty expression. 

"Oh, yeah, Al brought someone, just - AL! ARTHUR'S HERE!" He suddenly turns and shouts to Alfred, startling Arthur. 

Mathew doesn't shout often. 

Alfred appears around the corner, and Arthur can't shake the feeling that the boys are trying to block him from something. 

"What's going on?" He asks suspiciously.

Alfred looks nervous too, which is never a good sign. 

"Listen, Arthur, I brought someone, just... don't make a big deal, okay?" 

The feeling of unease grows. 

"Alfred, what did you do? I Swear to god, if you hired a stripper for Christmas again-"

"Jeez, Arthur! It's not a stripper!" Alfred hisses. "That was one time! " 

"Mmhmm." Arthur wouldn't put it past Alfred to do it again. 

Alfred runs a hand through his hair and sighs. 

"Listen, just come on." 

And when Alfred leads him into the living room, there's a pretty brunette on the couch, obviously Asian, though Arthur can't quite put his finger on where from, and Alfred puts his arm around her shoulders and suddenly he understands, even before Alfred introduces her. 

"Liên, this is Arthur, my guardian. Arthur, this is Liên. She's my, uh... She's my partner." 

This is the first Arthur's hearing about this, but despite his urge to interrogate his kid, he just greets Liên politely. Alfred's had girlfriends before, of course, he's met a few, heard of them over the phone mostly, but he's never been introduced like this. It feels different, but Arthur doesn't press for an answer. 

An answer comes during dinner anyways. 

"We're thinking of starting a family." Alfred announces suddenly, midway through the meal, and Arthur almost chokes on his turkey. 

"... A family?" He says weakly, trying not to side-eye Liên. "Um, how long have you been together, again?" 

Mathew kicks him under the table, but he ignores it. Alfred looks annoyed, but Liên answers easily. 

"Almost two years now." 

Arthur feels dizzy. 

"Two years?" This time it's Alfred who kicks him, significantly harder than his twin, and Arthur winces and forces himself to sound less like he'd just had a huge bomb dropped on him. 

"That's lovely. It's a shame-" He gives Alfred a hard look, "-that we havent met before. I would have loved to get to know you better." 

Alfred groans, and Mathew inhales deeply, like Arthur is somehow embarrassing him. 

Liên smiles back, something sharp in her voice as she responds. "Well, you'll have all the time in the world to get to know me from now on! You'll probably babysit a lot too!"

"Im not going anywhere." Her voice seems to say, and Alfred beams at her proudly and Arthur still feels lost. He wasn't insinuating they should break up! He just wanted to know more about her? He looks to Mathew for clarification, but Mathew just sighs deeply. Arthur can't help but feel wronged. He didn't even do anything! 

He looks back to Alfred and Liên, and his confusion must show on his face, either that or whatever Alfred has whispered in her ear was a plea to understand his daft guardian, but Liên softens. 

"I know what you want to ask. Yes, I love him, I've been in love with him long before we started dating. No, I don't intend to break his heart, and the reason I didn't meet you sooner is because this big lunk-" She elbows Alfred, "-kept chickening out." Alfred finally has the decency to look embarrassed. 

"Chickening out? Why?" Arthur is flabbergasted. He's never interfered in his kids love lives before? Did he somehow come off as judgemental or something? Mathew is the one who groans this time, flushed with second-hand embarrassment. 

"He wanted your approval, Arthur! And he was worried you wouldn't approve!" 

This does not make Arthur any less confused. 

"You never cared before?" 

Alfred's face is turning a steadily deeper shade of red. 

"She's different! Those times weren't... It wasn't like this!" 

That, Arthur understands. He nods, pensively, remembering a time long ago, after he first started dating Francis, officially, after years of misunderstandings and cat-and-mouse. Arthur hadn't been nervous to tell his family, back then. He distinctively remembers telling them that those were the facts and to shove it or shut up if they didn't like it, but Francis had been rather anxious to introduce Arthur to his dear ones. 

"I want them to like you as much as me." Francis had once said. "Not love you like me, though. I couldn't stand for that." 

And those had been two blissful, bumpy years. There was fights and bickering, of course, but overall two of the happiest years of Arthur's life. And then...

"Are you planning to get married?" The words pop out before he can think it through, then he flushes under his son's gaze. "Please understand, I don't mean to be old-fashioned, I'm just curious." 

Alfred is giving him a sharp look that makes Arthur feel like he's messed something up, but Liên smiles understandingly as she answers smoothly. 

"We're just waiting for the right time." 

And Arthur wants to tell Alfred that if she's the one, not to wait too long, or they might not get that happily ever after they want. That they might end up like Arthur. But he doesn't. It's not his place, even as a parent, to tell his son how to manage his relationship. Instead he nods and says, "Well, welcome to the family, Liên. Glad to finally meet you."

And Alfred relaxes a bit, still giving Arthur a hard stare, and Arthur wonders what Francis thinks of this. 

"Did you ever think of this moment?" Arthur wants to ask him. "That one day we'd see our kids make a family of their own?"

Arthur thinks that maybe he still has something else to look forward to after all. 

"Kat and I split up." 

Mathew sounds broken over the phone.

"She wanted kids, but I wasn't ready, and-" His voice breaks with the grief. "Did I do something wrong, Arthur? I just-" 

"No, it's not your fault." Arthur's heart aches as he soothes his son. "You just...you just wanted different things in life. Maybe... Maybe she just wasn't the right one."

"I wanted her to be."

Arthur wishes he knew the right way to fix this, the right way to heal his son's broken heart. 

"I know, Mathew." 

He wishes the answer to this was as easy as when Alfred found out he and Liên couldn't have kids of their own. But adoption can't fix different goals, and a baby can't fix a broken relationship. And Arthur can't fix anything at all. 

Did he feel this way, back before Francis, when he was still dating other people, trying to find his match? He wishes he could remember, but it fells like a long-forgotten memory, dusty photographs on the mantle. 

"Is there anything I can do?" 

He knows there isn't. He still asks. 

"No. Just... Thanks for listening, Arthur." 

And when Mathew ends the call, Arthur reaches for the one person he wishes was still here more than anything. 

"Oh, Francis, what do I do? I wish... If you were here, you'd know." 

The photograph doesn't answer, and Arthur's never felt more lost. 

"Today Chris called us Mom and Dad for the first time!" Alfred gushes over the phone. "You should have been there, Arthur! It was - I can't even describe it, you can never understand how it felt!" 

"No," Arthur agrees, amused, "I can't." 

"Oh shit." Suddenly Alfred's tone changes. "I'm sorry, Arthur, I didn't mean - we've never called - I didn't know - I was just..."

"You were just six," Arthur patiently soothes his frantic son, "and had just lost your parents in a tragic accident. It's okay, Alfred."

Alfred isn't so easy to convince. "I know, I just....feel bad, now that I've adopted my own son. I didn't realize what I was robbing you of."

It's a bit inappropriate, but Arthur can't help but chuckle at the man his son became. 

"Alfred, really it's fine. What you call me doesn't change that we're family, or that I love you." 

Whatever Alfred is going to say back is cut off as a coughing fit rakes Arthur's whole body. 

"Arthur!" Alfred sounds concerned over the phone. "Are you seriously still coughing?" 

When Arthur's done hacking up his lungs, he scowls at the phone. 

"It's just that cold I had last month," Arthur defends, "It's just the cough that won't go away. My immune system isn't what it used to be." 

"Arthur, that was ages ago. You should see a doctor." 

"If it gets any worse, I will." 

"Arthur-... " 

Alfred doesn't sound sure, but there's a sudden crash in the background and he hurriedly ends the phone call. Arthur leans back in his chair, groaning at the ache left in his chest from the force of his coughing. Alfred's right, it's been a while since the rest of his cold went away, but the damn cough is so persistent. Maybe he should go to the doctor. 

Just the thought makes him tired. He's been feeling his age more and more these days, it easier to lose his breathe and harder to catch it.  Not that he'd ever admit it to the boys. Whether they call him "Dad" or not, he's their father, and Arthur doesn't want to look weak. He wants to be the sturdy pillar they can always rely on in times of need. 

Arthur's over taken with another coughing fit, one that leaves him gasping for air long after its gone, but also leaves something more alarming. Blood, on his handkerchief.

"Oh."  The thought comes to him with sudden clarity. "It might not be long until I see you again, Francis."

"Lung cancer?" 

Arthur reels with the receipt of his diagnosis. Lung cancer. Still treatable, but...

Arthur thinks of his empty house. He thinks of his kids, Alfred with a family of his own. He thinks of the inheritance he's been saving for them. He thinks of Francis, waiting for him.

"Can I have some time to think?"

"Francis...what do I do?" 

"I...I found someone. His name's Gilbert. He's...He's great, Arthur."

Mathew has a hopeful sound in his voice again, and Arthur's heart feels lighter for it. 

"I don't want to introduce him, not yet. I... I want to be sure, this time, first. But I still wanted to let you know." 

And Arthur can't keep the fondness out of his voice, he doesn't even try. 

"I'm glad, Mathew." 

He's glad that Mathew's found someone, he hopes he's the one this time. He's glad Mathew still told him, even if Mathew's unsure. 

He's glad Mathew won't be alone when Arthur is gone. 

"Um, Arthur, are you okay?" Mathew sounds uneasy over the phone, "You sound off."

And for a moment, Arthur's tempted to tell him, to ask his advice, but he's scared to hear the answer. Arthur's not sure what answer he wants to hear. Instead he playfully snaps back at Mathew, redirecting the situation.

"What? I can't be happy? Brat." 

And Mathew sighs like someone whose lost an argument. 

"Has Al been by recently?" 

It's been a long time since either twin has visited Arthur at home, but Arthur doesn't share that. 

"Every now and then. He's promised to bring Chris by sometime."

Mathew makes a hum on the other side of the line, and Arthur knows his distraction hasn't worked, and Mathew's only dropping it for now to be polite. 

"Don't smoke too much, okay, Arthur?" Mathew says finally, "You'll ruin your lungs. Your voice is already so hoarse." 

And Arthur almost laughs at that. The well-meaning advice he's been getting since the twins were young has been ignored too long, and the hoarse sound to his voice isn't from the cigarettes. He's already quit smoking.

"Don't worry," He tries to reassure Mathew, "I've quit smoking, cold turkey."

"Seriously?" Mathew's voice brightens. "That's great! I'm so proud of you, Arthur!" 

Arthur doesn't think Mathew would be proud if he knew why Arthur quit, but there's a tickle building in his throat, so he hurriedly ends the call. As soon as the call ends, he's coughing again, his chest aches from the effort. The handkerchief comes away bloody again. Francis looks down on him disaprovingly from the mantle.

Arthur can almost hear his disapproving voice. 

"Really, Arthur? Please take care of yourself, it hurts my heart to see you like this." 

"Should have thought of that before you died, wanker." Arthur mumbles bitterly in response. 

He wonders if it's wrong to want to see Francis again sooner rather than later. And he hopes that he's right, and he will see Francis again, that Francis is still waiting for him. 

"Hey Arthur! We were in the area and just wanted to stop by!" 

Alfred greets Arthur at the door and it takes Arthur a moment to register Alfred and his family on the doorstep, young Chris clinging to Alfred's pantlegs. 

"Alfred? I wasn't expecting you!" 

He thinks it's been a while since he cleaned and suddenly feels uncomfortable, and Alfred senses it, shifting uncomfortably on the doorstep. 

"Did I come at a bad time?" 

And Arthur forces himself to ignore his concerns and gives Alfred a tight smile. 

"Not at all! It's a pleasant surprise! Please come in. Please excuse the mess." 

Alfred steps in with a laugh on his lips. 

"What mess? Your house is never-" His voice trails off as he sees Arthur for the first time in the light. "Fuck! Arthur, are you eating alright? You're like a twig!" 

Self-consciously, Arthur pulls his cardigan tighter over his chest. 

"I have been eating just fine!" He rebukes primly. 

It's not that he hasn't been eating, it's just that he can't seem to hold the weight. He knows he's had lost some, but Alfred's comment makes him feel embarrassed, suddenly. He suddenly becomes aware of the layer of dust on the furniture and photos on the walls, even Francis's. Francis would hate that, of course, he liked things clean. Of course, Arthur doubts that's what Francis would be most annoyed about. 

Alfred still looks dubious. 

"Next time I come, I'll bring you some of Liên's food. She makes an amazing Banh Mi."

Arthur has no idea what that is, or if he'll like it, but he doesn't bring it up. Even if Liên wasn't standing right there, he knows Alfred won't listen anyways. Liên looks concerned too as she scans Arthur's frame. 

"I always make too much, so it would be great if you take some!" She agrees with Alfred, and Arthur pretends he doesn't see the look they exchange. 

"Hey Francis," Alfred greets as he passes by, "Long time no see."  He frowns at the dust and shoots Arthur a look.

"Damn, you really let the old place go, huh?" 

Arthur sighs. 

"Almost thirty years and I still haven't yet managed to teach you to sugar-coat." 

Alfred, a full-grown adult with a partner and child of his own, sticks out his tongue at Arthur like he's still six.

"Brat." 

"Old man." Alfred returns with a grin.

Chris is beginning to come out of his shell, peering around Arthur's house in search of toys. He's been here a few times before, but the next time he's still as timid as the last. Fortunately, Arthur knows the secret to winning him over. 

"Ah, Chris, I'm afraid now that I'm older, I just don't have the energy for gardening anymore and it's getting quite overgrown. If you want to, you can go ahead and choose a few plants to take home and add to your garden?" 

And Chris lights up like a Christmas tree, forgetting his shyness. 

"How many? A lot?" 

Arthur laughs. 

"Ask your mom." 

And soon enough Chris is on his way out to the garden with his shovel and spade to pick out the allotted three plants to take home, and Liên is smiling fondly, but Alfred looks troubled. 

"You don't garden anymore? Isn't that like your only hobby?" 

Arthur doesn't dignify that with a response, ignoring Alfred in favour of chatting with his wife. 

"I'm so glad that you also know how to appreciate gardens... God knows Alfred doesn't. Chris must take after you." 

Liên chuckles. 

"I think he takes after you more. I mostly plant vegetables, but everytime we come he's always excited to get some flowers for his garden... He just doesn't seem to appreciate crops as much."

Alfred pouts at being ignored, but quickly turns concerned when Arthur starts wheezing hard. 

"Arthur?"

Arthur waved him off. 

"It's nothing, a side effect from the smoking." 

Alfred frowns. "I thought you quit."

Arthur shoots him a dirty look. 

"I did, but that doesn't make the side-effects disappear immediately, Alfred."

Thankfully, they're saved from an argument by the reappearance of Chris, lugging a particularly large pot that almost bigger than himself. 

"Mom, I don't want three, just this one! Can I, Grandpa?"

And for a moment, Arthur's struck with nostalgia when he sees the plant, a rose bush at the end of rose season, with just a few somewhat wilted red roses dropping petals along the carpet with each shake. 

"Red for love."

A present from a long time ago, now grown much bigger. 

"Do you like roses?" Arthur finds himself asking. "Then go ahead and take it." 

Alfred makes a noise of protest. 

"Dad! We gave you that as a birthday present!"

Arthur has no idea why Alfred is so bothered about the regifting of a plant. It was hardly the last of the rose bushes he's gotten as gift, his garden is mostly roses at this point.

"Better to let it live with someone who will care for it properly so it stays healthy, than to wither and die with an old man like me!"

Alfred scowls harder at Arthur's words. 

"You're not that old, Arthur. You're like, sixty."

Arthur gives Alfred a dirty look, but Alfred rolls his eyes.

"I'm telling Mattie." 

And Arthur just stares at him in bewilderment. "Okay?" 

He doesn't think Mathew will mind that he regifted a plant to Chris, but Alfred seems more sour than ever when Arthur doesn't react. Arthur shakes his head exasperatedly. Once a kid, always a kid.

"Jeez," Alfred remarks to Francis on the mantle, "Can you believe him?" 

Arthur thinks Francis would laugh if he was here now, and probably tease Arthur, and then they'd end up bickering again. But... 

His smile slips for a second. 

Because Francis isn't there and he feels it more with each passing day. 

"Arthur, this is an intervention." 

Not long after Alfred's last visit, he's back, and this time with Mathew. Arthur looks up at them from his chair with bewilderment. 

"Intervention? For what?"

"What do you mean for what?" Alfred sounds frustrated. "You're a walking skeleton and you still can't breathe properly."

"You need to go to the doctors." Mathew adds firmly, crossing his arms. 

And Arthur's never reacted the best to being told what to do, and without thinking he snaps back. 

"I've been to the doctor!"

Only after does he remember why he hasn't mentioned that before. 

"Really? When?" Alfred challenges, but Mathew suddenly has a glint in his eye, like he's figured out something he didn't like. 

"What did he say?" 

Arthur opens and closes his mouth, not unlike a goldfish. 

"Couple months ago." He finally chooses to answer the easier question.

Mathew's eyes turn hard. 

"What did he say." 

Alfred picks up on what Mathew already knows and turns to Arthur with a betrayed look. Arthur shrugs. 

"It's because of the smoking. That's why I quit." 

It's technically the truth. Neither twin looks convinced. 

"You -"  Alfred speaks in a strangled tone, and tries to keep his voice steady. "You knew you were sick and didn't bother to tell us?"

Mathew, as always, is quick to notice what Arthur's hidden.

"Arthur," Mathew says carefully, hands curled into fists, "Why won't you tell us what the doctor said?"

Arthur avoids eye contact. 

"Arthur!" Alfred warns, voice rising in pitch as he gets more concerned.

Arthur suddenly feels very sulky, and glares at Francis's portrait like it's somehow his fault. Francis probably brought the kids here, he would do something like that. 

"Its fine," Arthur mostly mumbles. "it's not like it's treatable anyways."

Or it was, originally, but it's been months, and Arthur knows what cancer can do in a couple months. Mathew gasps, and Arthur sneaks a peak at him, and Mathew is crying, tears rolling soundlessly down his face in a way he hasn't cried since Katyusha broke up with him. Arthur knows without being told that Mathew's figured it out, and he knows Mathew knows he knows Mathew knows by the look on his face. 

Mathew says it aloud for Alfred's sake. 

"It's cancer, isn't it?"

And Arthur can't look his kids in the eyes as he admits it. 

"Lung Cancer." 

And Alfred makes a noise like he's choking.

"That....there's no way - that joke isn't funny Arthur."

No, it's not, but Arthur still feels a slight urge to laugh. It's not a joke, and it's not funny. 

"It's not fair." Mathew's voice cracks on the words. 

But life's never been fair to Arthur. 

"How long?" Alfred's voice seems strangely hoarse when he speaks, like Alfred's moments from tears. "How long ago did you find out?"

And Arthur gets the distinct feeling that he should not tell the truth. The guilt must show on his face, because Alfred bristles, the pain turning to anger in his voice.

"You knew for a while!" Alfred acuses. "You knew, and you didn't tell us!"

"Alfred-"

"No! How long? A month? Two?" 

Arthur flushes, and he's not sure if it's shame or guilt he's feeling. He tries to shrug nonchalantly.

"A while." 

"Arthur?"

This time it's Mathew who sounds hurt and betrayed. Arthur looks straight ahead, trying to avoid eye contact with both of them. Francis looks down from the mantle disapprovingly, and Arthur drops his gaze to the floor to avoid all three of them. 

"I was going to tell you, I just-"

There's no way on earth he can tell the boys the truth, the real reason, so he trails off, unsure of what to say. Mathew, the more sensitive of the twins, caves first. 

"I'm sorry, you must have been scared, Arthur." 

Alfred paces like he's trying to wear the anger and frustration out of him, and even without looking he can sense the glances Alfred throws his way each time his footsteps hesitate. 

"I told you!" Alfred suddenly bursts out with the words he can't contain, "We told you if you didn't quit smoking- ugh." He suddenly stops pacing and collapses onto Arthur's chesterfield like he's exhausted. His voice is calmer when he speaks again. "How bad is it?" 

Arthur can't help but feel guilty as he sees the distress on his kids faces. Mathew sinks down next to Alfred and puts an awkward hand on his twin's shoulder to comfort him. 

"It's not that bad." Arthur mumbles. 

"You just said it wasn't treatable!" Alfred shoots back. 

Arthur shifts uncomfortably. "Well..." 

He doesn't want to lie to them anymore. He peeks at the boys again, and Alfred has his head in his hands, but Mathew is looking at him with narrowed eyes. 

"Did you even try?" 

Arhut changes his mind about lying. 

"I'm going to go back soon." 

Mathew has a steely line in his voice. 

"When?" 

Arthur goes back to avoiding eye contact. 

"I haven't made the appointment just yet." 

"Are you fucking serious?" Alfred's back on his feet again, and Arthur flinches as he stalks by him into the kitchen. A moment later Alfred returns, and tosses something heavy onto Arthur's lap. The kitchen phone. 

"Make one." Alfred demands. "Right now." 

And Arthur's heart races so hard it aches. He'd known from the start this would be their answer, if he is honest with himself. He just didn't want to hear it. 

"Alfred-" He tries, voice weak, not even sure what he's going to say. 

Neither twin will hear it. 

"No!" Alfred snarls.

"Don't even try." Mathew adds, equally angry. 

Even Francis's portrait seems angry, glaring down at Arthur as if to dare him to argue. 

Arthur dials the phone with shaking fingers. 

"Hello? This is Arthur Kirkland, I'm calling to discuss making another appointment?

"How did it go?" Liên asks the moment they get home.

"Not bad." Arthur apeases her, but Alfred stomps by into the kitchen without a word, and Liên turns questioningly to Mathew.

"He said it's grown." Mathew says softly. "Stage 3."

Liên purses her lips in concern. "That's not too bad?" She offers. "It's still treatable, right?" 

Mathew shoots Arthur a dirty look. "Yes." 

And Alfred storms back in, no longer able to hold back. 

"It got worse because it's been over two months and he did nothing!"

Arthur flinches. 

Alfred glares at him. 

"The doctor said that if you had acted right away you might even be fine right now! Because you waited so long, it got worse!"

"Thankfully it's still treatable." Mathew cuts in, in an attempt to calm his twin. "As long as Arthur goes to regular treatment."

Arthur doesn't have to see the look Mathew's giving him to feel its chill. Alfred fixes Arthur with a fierce glare. 

"Oh, he's going. Even if I have to drag him." 

"I was planning to go properly anyways." Arthur defends weakly, and both boys snort loudly.

The situation is temporarily diffused by the arrival of Chris, piping up in his clear voice. 

"Is Grandpa still sick?" 

Alfred relaxes a bit, and moves to ruffle his son's hair. "Yeah, he's gonna be sick for a while, but he's gonna get better." 

Arthur doubts that he'll ever be fully healthy again, but wisely keeps that thought to himself. 

"Your dad is right," He encourages Chris, "I just have to take my medicine and go to my doctors appointments on time." 

Chris relaxes in a way only innocence allows, and hugs Arthur so tight around the waist that he gasps for breath. 

"When you're not so sick anymore, you can help me with my garden!" Chris offers. "Dad made it bigger for me." 

And the other adults exchange a grim look when Arthur agrees, too old and wise to believe Arthur's shallow assurances. 

"Well," Arthur shifts towards the door, eager to avoid the cold atmosphere and return home, "I should be heading home now. I'm tired." 

Mathew doesn't say a word, just gives Alfred and Liên another look, and grabs his keys to drive Arthur home. Alfred isn't as silent with his hurt. 

"If Francis was here I bet he'd be pretty disappointed in you." Alfred hisses a parting shot, and Arthur's heart stings, because he knows Alfred is right.

Francis was always scolding Arthur about not taking care of himself, not treasuring himself enough. Alfred stalks off, not even saying goodbye, but Liên hesitates. 

"I never met Francis," She finally says softly, placing a light hand on Arthur's arm, "But if he loved you as much as you love him, I think he'd just be happy you're finally getting help." 

Arthur stares at her blankly, and embarrassed, she takes her hand back and steps away. 

"That's how I would feel if it was Alfred." 

And Arthur's throat feels tight with unshed tears, and it takes all his effort not to show it in his voice when he whispers "Thank you" to her. Because Alfred was right, but she is too.

Because for a moment there, it sounded like she knew Francis better than him. And for a moment, it felt like he'd forgotten who Francis was, like time had twisted the memories. 

Because Liên was right, Francis would be more glad than disappointed, just happy that Arthur was going to get better, to live a little longer. 

"I'm sorry, Francis." And Arthur apologizes in his heart, not for deciding to live longer, but for trying to meet Francis too fast. "I think you'll need to wait a little longer."

And despite the icy car drive home with Mathew, Arthur's heart feels lighter. 

"So, you're Arthur, huh?" Mathew's new boyfriend offers Arthur a handshake, nervous but firm. "I've heard a lot about you. I'm Gilbert, nice to meet you." 

And Mathew is bright red for no reason, and Arthur can't help but gasp with recognition. 

"No way, Gilbert Beildsmidt?" 

And Gilbert looks just as shocked to be recognized.

"You know me?"

Arthur shrugs.

"Well, I know of you. Your father was actually my teacher in collage. I'm pretty sure there wasn't a single person in school who hadn't seen a picture of you. He would show anyone who stood still long enough." Arthur laughs at the memory. "We called him professor Doting Father."

Gilbert flushes too, almost rivalling Mathew's colour.

"Mein Gott." He covers his face with his hands. "That's so embarrassing!"

Arthur grins and Mathew makes a I'll-kill-you gesture over Gilbert's shoulder. This does nothing to deter Arthur's stories. 

"Not at all!" Arthur corrects Gilbert, ignoring Mathew, "It was sweet. But I never would have guessed that the little Baby Gilbert Beildsmidt was the same same Gilbert who would be dating Mathew! I should have made the connection when he said you're albino."

Mathew groans loudly and buries his face in Gilbert's back, much to both Gilbert and Arthur's amusement.

"Yeah, I imagine you probably don't know too many albinos named Gilbert." Gilbert laughs, trying to shake his boyfriend free. 

Taking pity on Mathew, Arthur tries a different route. 

"Well, besides that, how is old Fritz? He still teaching?" 

Gilbert turns somber, sticking both hands in his pockets and avoiding eye contact. 

"Um, no. He...passed. Pneumonia." 

"Oh." 

It hits Arthur like a sack of bricks, and suddenly he knows why Mathew suddenly changed his mind and introduced Gilbert to him. He swallows hard. 

"I'm so sorry. How long ago?" 

Gilbert shuffles. 

"It's fine, it'll be seven years this winter."

And Arthur doesn't know what to say to the man in front of him, to the little boy from Professor Fritz's pictures, to a son who lost his only parent. Gilbert coughs and changes the subject.

"But did you know I also have a little brother?"

"What?" 

And the somber mood lightens, and Gilbert brags about his brother and Mathew looks like he hopes the ground will swallow him up then and there. 

Arthur thinks it's a good thing the kids found out about his cancer, that they forced him to get treatment, or he might not have been there that day, experiencing this moment.

"Could you imagine?" Arthur remarks to Francis's picture after Mathew and Gilbert leave. "Our son is dating Professor Doting Father's kid."

He thinks that Francis would have cooed about that, and said something silly and romantic about fate bringing them together. Arthur smiles fondly at the thought.

"I hope you're right, Francis." 

Arthur doesn't want to hear Mathew cry ever again. 

"Aw, Thank you, Liên," Arthur accepts the dish from her gratefully, "But you didn't have too." 

Neither of them even pretend he isn't going to take it.  Ever since his cancer was found out, Liên seems to have taken it upon herself to take care of him, bringing him food and helping him clean and even just spending some time with him. Over time Arthur's grown to love her food (though secretly there are times he still finds it too spicy for his taste) and now he looks forward to the next meal she brings. 

"Come in, Come in!" Arthur ushers her in. "I just put on some tea. No Chris today?"

"He's still at school."  Liên reminds him gently. 

Arthur wonders when they became so close. Years ago back when he first met her, he never imagined they'd one day be as close as real family. Now Arthur sees her as the daughter he never had. 

"Ah, I forgot."  He admits, a tad embarrassed, and she laughs. 

Something's off about her today, she seems brighter, or happier, and Arthur cocks his head, trying to figure out what he's missing. 

"You seem different today." He comments carefully. 

She brightens even more more. "Do I?" she moves a hand to brush non-existent hair from her face, and Arthur freezes when something catches the light and flashes. 

"Wait a moment-"  And he's so flustered he doesn't even think to ask before catching her hand and pulling it towards him, but she doesn't seem to mind, beaming more than ever.  "For real?" 

And Liên laughs aloud and nods, and Arthur feels dizzy and delighted himself, because there, on her finger, is a sparkling engagement ring. 

"He asked me yesterday." Liên tells him, blinking tears of joy. "He said he was saving to get me a nice one, and apologized for taking so long." 

And Arthur's eyes blur with tears too, emotions so overwhelming he can't contain them. 

"I said yes." Liên says, unnecessarily, and Arthur pulls her into a tight hug, to overwhelmed to speak. But maybe it's not necessary, because Liên just leans into the hug and she's crying too, both of them weeping tears of joy. 

And Arthur thinks he's been a fool, and if Francis was there he would tell him so, because all he can hope is he lives to see his child's wedding. 

"In Remission," Arthur mumbles in shock. "He said my cancer is in remission."

And Mathew whoops and Alfred catches him in either a hug or a choke hold, and Liên takes his hand and tells him congratulations and Chris is tugging on his pant legs asking, 

"Does that mean you're not sick anymore, Grandpa?" 

And Arthur's throat is dry as he tries to croak out an answer. 

"Not quite. But it means I'm getting better." 

And it must be a miracle, that damn frog cursing him from heaven, to get such news on the anniversary of Francis's death. It feels like Francis is telling him not to follow him too soon, reminding him of what he still has to look forwards too.

"Arthur's in remission!" Mathew is crowing over the phone to his boyfriend, and Alfred, tough-guy-act Alfred is throwing an arm over his eyes to hide the tears, and Arthur's face hurts from the force of his own beam, and his heart hurts in a different kind of way. 

He feels full inside. 

And Arthur realizes he doesn't want to hurry and see Francis anymore. He still wants to see him, but maybe, he thinks, Francis can wait just a little bit longer. No, he knows that Francis would want it that way. 

"Arthur!" 

Somewhere, far away, someone is calling for him.

"Dad, please!"

Somewhere, someone is begging him. 

Distantly, Arthur feels hands crushing his fingers in their grip, something hot and wet splattering on his face and on the hand held tight. He should respond, he knows, but his body doesn't react to him anymore. It doesn't even feel heavy anymore, but impossibly light, like he doesn't even have a body at all.

He feels a pull somewhere inside, and instinct urging him to go somewhere he doesn't know. But he can't go, Arthur's very will resists the pull. His family needs him. 

And, like an echo on the wind, a voice floats to him. 

"They'll be okay, Arthur." 

A voice that's almost forgotten, an accent that lilts at the end, a soft and teasing tone he's forgotten how much he missed until now. 

"Francis." 

And Arthur doesn't resist the pull anymore.

Francis has waited long enough. 

And somewhere, almost too faint to hear, a whisper of a voice praying for him;

"I hope you're happy with Francis now, Arthur." 

And a familiar hand takes his and Arthur goes willingly. 

And Alfred wipes the tears from his eyes, trying to sear one last image of his father into his memories, and notices something that has him choking out a hysterical laugh. 

"He's smiling," Alfred notes, trying not to break down again. "He must be happy, right, Mattie?" 

And Mathew lets the tears flow soundlessly from blank eyes as he look up from the hand that won't return his grip anymore, and follows his brother's line of sight to the small peaceful smile quirked on Arthur's face. 

"Yeah," Mathew answers thickly. "Francis will make sure he is."

Arthur is buried next to Francis, one tombstone between them, with a simple inscription of "Till Death do us part and even after." 

And at long last, Arthur Kirkland finally gets his happy ending.