A.N., I... Can't really say I absolutely love this one, but I really had a huge thing for Matthew at a point of time. His psychology is entirely something else, it's really fun to write, but I'll spoil it a bit and say I would have preferred other ideas for the ending, but I don't have any. I don't own the song or the characters.

"Alfie..." The name slipped from his lips, familiar as ever, but foreign in sensation. It was a name he'd known since the beginning of time, but almost never voiced in reality. Matthew barely ever said the name of his brother, at least not since he realized that it scarcely ever worked.

"Give me a moment Matty. So I was thinking, maybe it'd be a good idea if we injected more capital into the economy and..."

Matthew spent a brief moment, a tender smile on his lips, wondering what Alfred's finance advisor was doing in the privacy of their home. Somewhere close by, but thankfully out of hearing range from the twins, Arthur sat on the sofa with a thick book, and an expensive looking tea set in front of him. Matthew stepped away from his brother, and headed back upstairs to his room. The one at the end of the corridor, the room that was left after they'd moved in and everyone else had selected their rooms.

Francis was nowhere to be seen. Matthew didn't feel like thinking where his papa would have been on a weekend morning, especially not since he was most likely in a prostitute's bed.

With one last look at his brother frustratedly chattering away, Matthew disappeared upstairs.

Whatcha' doin' tonight

I wish I could be

A fly on your wall

He jumped when someone entered his room, and looked down from his top bunk bed to see Arthur slowly shutting the room door. The boy said nothing as his father pulled out a chair and sat down.

"There something on your mind, lad?" After the split second that Matthew's mind took to process Arthur's question, Matthew's eyes grew larger realizing that his father must have noticed something. Something that Matthew was so desperately trying to keep away from the rest of the household. Something that he'd decided himself, was unacceptable.


"Something's bothering you isn't it?"

"... N, nothing's wrong, eh."

A stuttered denial was the first solution that came to mind.

"Matthew..." Arthur heaved a sigh, and clasped his hands together in his lap, head low, even as Matthew watched in silent concern, noting that despite the Brit's usual demeanor, he was being sincere. In a way that never happened with Alfred, and only with him, for reasons that he never really was able to conclude, but during the course of his life had just come to accept as the norm. "I may not pay the most attention to you all the time, but I do notice when something's bothering you, and there's definitely something on your mind."

Talking to Arthur was nice. Talking to Francis was also nice, until Matthew reminded himself that it was but a facade put up by the Frenchman to maintain his fatherly image. Talking to Alfred was pleasant as long as it lasted, and given that his twin had the attention span of a goldfish in a bowl, Matthew had just slowly come to accept that unless Alfred needed something, he wasn't going to get anything beyond a quick "Not now Matty" or "Later alright? I'm busy, Matty."

"Nothing's wrong, eh." He smiled down at his father, from his lofty nest of bedding. Beyond sight of the Brit, Matthew's clenching grasp on the pillow he'd been hugging became uncomfortably tight.

Are you really alone

Who's stealing your dreams

Why can't I breathe you into my life

What would it take to make you see that I'm alive

Matthew's bedroom was always neat and tidy, as if a hotel room in waiting. Always preened and polished, in top shape, in anticipation that sometime, anytime, a customer would come.

The double bunk beds, of which Matthew used the top bunk, was always well kept and ensured ample bedding for whoever should decide to sleep or just lay there.

"Hey Matty! I'm gonna use your room a little, Arthur's been nagging my 'arse' off again." Alfred grinned as he loudly burst into the room, imitating Arthur's thick accent on the insult. Matthew looked down at his twin with a smile and a nod, quickly deciding not to say anything about Alfred's loud volume not being the best way to avoid detection. He calmly fished his bookmark out of the book he'd been reading prior to the moment that Alfred came bursting through his door, and folded his book shut, knowing all too well what was going to happen from then.

For the next blissful hour or so, Matthew sat on his top bunk bed, listening to his twin complaining, ranting, making suggestions that seemed downright unrealistic, nodding silently and occasionally giving sounds of agreement.

Things that would remind Alfred time to time that he wasn't talking to a wall.

Matthew's bedroom was always clean and well kept. As if a hotel room, forever preened and prepped, always in welcoming top shape, in anticipation of a customer out of the blue. Then...Much like a hotel room, after whatever business had been done and taken care of, the temporary tenant would disappear, leaving their mess behind for the same old person to clean up.

If I was invisible

Then I could just watch you in your room

If I was invincible

I'd make you mine tonight

Francis, upon their moving into the new house, had suggested during a private discussion with his spouse, Arthur, that Matthew have his own room. Arthur had disagreed, stating that leaving Matthew alone would only make his obvious autism sydromes even worse. The simple winning argument had been that Alfred always made a garbage dump out of the twins' shared room, and Matthew was always left to clean up his brother's mess, in addition to maintaining his own spotless side of the room. Matthew needed to have some freedom, and Alfred needed to learn to take care of himself.

So, in cruel conclusion, Matthew had gained his lonely place in an adjescent corner of the house, due to Arthur's concern for Alfred's growth and maturing.

Of course, this discussion never reached the ears of either of the twins.

That night was silent after the episode that started with the sound of keys at the front door, and ended with an arguement in their parents room that started with an explosive volume before slowly dying down again.

Having had ample rest during the day, Matthew lay awake on his bed, lingering words from his parents' argument replaying in his head as he stared at the ceiling. Slowly, not really knowing what he was doing, he got up off his bed, pulled a hoodie over his pajama top and headed out onto the corridor, towards Alfred's room.

"Alfie?" He peeked in through a crack in the door, looking like a child at his parents' room door after a nightmare.

"... Hnn?" An eventual response came in the form of an annoyed and tired sounding grunt that normally would have sent Matthew silently on his way back to his own room.

"C... Can I come in, eh?"

"... Yeah."

He tiptoed into the room, sliding the door shut behind him, and headed through the mountains of clothing and sports gear littering the floor of Alfred's room.

If hearts were unbreakable

Then I could just tell you where I stand

I would be the smartest man

If I was invisible

Wait, I already am

Matthew slid his hoodie back off his body and crawled into Alfred's bed, wondering to himself silently how his twin managed to sleep wearing a T-shirt and a pair of jeans. Then again, he reminded himself with a smile, Alfred just was that kind of a casual person. The leather jacket in a world conference meeting would have been able to illustrate that point bouyantly enough. The room smelled of cheap deoderant, but having lived with Alfred in the same room for most his life, it was something rather stupidly nostalgic to Matthew. He curled up next to his twin, and Alfred responded by slinging an arm around his brother's waist.

"It's been awhile since we slept like this..." Alfred half murmured, still drugged by his sleep.

"... Yeah."

Back then, it was often Alfred who made his way to Matthew's side of the room, claiming simply that he needed someplace to sleep, that wasn't buried in sports equipment and underwear.

Matthew knew his twin was lying. Needing someplace to sleep didn't involve hugging his brother close to his body as he slept. Being who he was though, Matthew never said anything about it, and silently complied to Alfred's behavior, despite knowing that this, in the morning, was likely to get them a stern telling off from Arthur.

Matthew laid a silent kiss on his twin's forehead, before pulling his glasses off his face, setting them on the side of the bed next to Alfred's, and closing his eyes.

Saw your face in the crowd

I call out your name

You don't hear a sound

The following morning, just as Matthew made his way out of Alfred's room, He saw Francis standing at the room door, expression unreadable.

"Bonjour papa..."

"Bonjour mon petit." A lazy smile, one that Matthew returned, despite knowing that the only reason Francis would look like that would undoubtedly be yet another argument with the love of his life. "Come Matthieu, papa will fix you some breakfast."

Matthew smiled with a nod. He really did love his papa. Or at least, he really did love the facade that Francis put up in front of him, pardoning only Matthew from the flamboyant image portrayed to so many others. As he sat at the dining table, slowly eating his breakfast, Francis watched and made occasional conversation.

If it wasn't for the fact that he loved his brother and Arthur too much to bear a divorce, he would probably have suggested it himself. The family was slmost visibly divided down the middle, with Alfred obviously being on Arthur's side, and Matthew himself more reliant on Francis. He liked to think that he served some function in their little household, acting as the last resilient link silently, but selfishly and stubbornly holding them together.

Alfred slung his bag over his shoulder at the doorway.

"Ah, Alfie, where are you going, eh?" Matthew looked up at his brother, just as Alfred pulled his shoes on, wearing the same T-shirt and jeans he'd been sleeping in the previous night.


The instant stabbed expression on Matthew's face was enough to make Francis snap.

"Watch your manners young man." Francis scolded, standing up from the table as Matthew tried to hold him down.

"None of your business, frog." The boy muttered in response, and stalked out of the front door, slamming it behind him.

I keep tracing your steps

Each move that you make

Wish I could read what goes through your mind

Wish you could touch me with the colors of your life

After Francis had calmed down, and gone out himself, Matthew sat by the window wondering where his brother had gone off to. It was rather obvious from his gear that he'd headed off to play basketball with some of his usual chums like Gilbert or that Australian kid, the name of whom slipped Matthew's mind.

He often wondered where Alfred got all those friends.

He also often wondered why Alfred would almost always come back to him despite having all those other friends. Surely they were more interesting than he himself was.

There was a point in time when Alfred would still try to get his twin to participate in some of their sporting activities, but after Matthew broke several bones in a baseball sporting attempt, the requests stopped coming altogether, and Matthew silently, with a bitter laugh, listed sports as another one of the things he just wasn't good at. Barring Ice Hockey though, he knew he was good at that, Alfred had tried many times to beat him at it but never could.

Remembering this brought a brief smile to Matthew's face, that erased itself all too soon.

Arthur came into the room with his tea set, blissfully unaware of the little episode that had occured between Francis and Alfred earlier that morning.

"There you are lad. Good morning."

"Good morning, eh."

That was the end of their conversation.

If I was invisible

Then I could just watch you in your room

If I was invincible

I'd make you mine tonight

When Alfred crashed back home that night, Matthew didn't really feel like getting out of his room, his sanctuary. Their papa was still out, with Matthew not knowing where and lacking the desire to find out. Arthur had come into the room once in awhile during the day attempting to strike conversation, possibly trying to rein over Matthew's favor for custody.

The day had passed like any other weekend. It had been a long time coming, and Matthew had been bracing himself for the day when Arthur and Francis called the twins to the living room, told them to sit down, and explained the situation, behaving like mature adults for once. Even though, Matthew and Alfred both knew all too well the way they really were, and their attempts in salvaging a sensible mature facade were but naught.

It hadn't happened, yet, but Matthew was counting down the days.

As he heard the sound of running water had stopped pouring out from the shower in Alfred's room, he started thinking about the situation, and what things would be like if they really were separated.

Would Alfred still bother to come to his room and casually take the lower bunk while ranting and complaining to the only one who would listen? Would he still give him the occasional brotherly shove that was way too hard on the smaller boy? Would they still play video games together and pointlessly argue when Alfred cheated?

Would there still be the silent moments when he could just curl up with Alfred and fall asleep, lacking a single care for the world?

His simple and pessimistic answer, no.

Matthew quickly jumped out of his bed, still not quite sure what he was going to do, aside from going to Alfred's room and admit what he hadn't dared to for so long, too long already.

If hearts were unbreakable

Then I could just tell you where I stand

I would be the smartest man

If I was invisible

Wait, I already am

When the boy knocked on his brother's room, there was no response. He tried several times to no avail, and finally cracked the door open himself. A quick scan in the room confirmed that Alfred wasn't there. For a moment or two he stood, dumbfounded, at the mouth of the doorway, trying to wrap his mind around where Alfred could have gone.

He heard a thud, next door, from Arthur's room.

The boy looked over his shoulder, down towards Arthur's door, further down the corridor next to Alfred's room. What used to be his shared room with Francis was now almost exclusively his, and Francis would either settle for the sofa, or occasionally Matthew's lower bunk bed.

The few steps it usually required for Matthew to reach that room now seemed like an expanse of space, a step through time, a dare, a challenge, a danger. He didn't know what it was, but it felt like a hornet's nest that he shouldn't be messing around with, the big red button on the wall that didn't want to be pushed, the trigger of a loaded gun. But there it was, pandora's box, tentalizingly within his grasp and immediate reach.

In morbid fascination, he mechanically reached out his hand, and turned the knob of Arthur's room door.

Reach out

But you don't even see me

Even when I scream out

Baby, you don't hear me

I am nothing without you

Just a shadow passing through

He could have sworn he felt his pupils retract.

Arthur was lying on his bed, a heavy looking book lying discarded on the floor, along with several pieces of clothing. The air in the room was stale and damp, stuffy and smelling heavily of sex. On top of him and pinning him to the bed, was Alfred, trailing tender kisses along Arthur's jawline.

"Alfred... Not... Ngh... Now, what if Matthew..."

"Nevermind Matthew."

Nevermind Matthew...

Nevermind Matthew...

The words rang through his head, unending echoes that reverberated in his mind, again and again.

Some part of him wanted to think that it was his own blasphemous romantic interest in Alfred that caused him to hallucinate, and place Alfred in that bed with Arthur instead of Francis. Sadly, that thought was all too soon shattered, as he felt a hand covering his mouth and moving him away from the room.

He calmed down slightly as he heard Francis whispering soothing words into his ear, in a language that didn't force him to think about either of the two he'd just seen embracing in Arthur's room.

If I was invisible

Then I could just watch you in your room

If I was invincible

I'd make you mine tonight

Matthew sat on his top bunk, as Francis stood leaning on the closed and locked door of Matthew's room, saying nothing as he stared at Matthew's disheveled figure, silently shuddering on the top bunk bed.

"Papa... You knew all along, eh?" He sniffled, when eventually he had calmed down.


"Why didn't you tell me, eh..."

"How could I..."

"You didn't tell anyone..." It wasn't an accusation, it was empathy. Francis lowered his head, shaking it in response to Matthew, who sniffled again and buried his head back into his pillows.

"I knew how much you loved him. Both of them."

It didn't take long for Matthew to realize this was the reason their little family was still resiliently holding together, despite the arguments, despite the stand-offs, despite everything that would have meant doomsday for any other marriage or family. Francis' brilliant blue eyes were dull and lifeless, and staring at them, Matthew soon came to the conclusion that he'd been innocently been the reason for sustaining a family excrutiating to everyone but himself.

If hearts were unbreakable

Then I could just tell you where I stand

I would be the smartest man

If I was invisible

It was late that night. When Alfred had returned to his own room, Francis had condemned himself to the living room sofa, and Arthur lay asleep in his bed.

Matthew stood in front of the bathroom sink, staring at his own face in the mirror, as if taking one last look at himself. His innocent, naive self. The innocent naive self that had been causing everyone else in the home to suffer.

The razor glinted in his hand.

If I was invisible...

If I was invisible...

If I was invisible...

If I was invisible...