Chapter 4 - Empty Promises

CHAPTER FOUR: Empty Promises
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*****

Matthew couldn't decide if he was awake or dreaming.

He was in and out of consciousness all day, (or was it two days?) and what he saw when his eyes were open felt random and senseless, as though he was seeing short clips from several different movies.

First came the bright lights, the shouting voices, the sensation of fast movement. Hands reached out and touched his face, hands that were abnormally white, and when they made contact, it felt like they were underwater. Masked faces leaned in. The lights got brighter. Frightened, he had closed his eyes again.

Next came the crying. This time, Matthew had kept his eyes closed, mostly because he did not have the energy to open them. It was one voice, only one person was crying. Matthew felt like he should recognize who this person was, but he had drifted back off into the darkness of unconsciousness before he could figure it out.

Last came the promise. That was the one part of all the tomfoolery that Matthew remembered perfectly clearly. A whisper in the voice he could never mistake:

"I'll be back tomorrow. Promise."

And then silence and black oblivion once more.

Matthew wasn't sure how long he had been sleeping before he awoke again, this time, much more alert. He blinked, trying to clear the fuzziness from his brain.

"Dad... Dad! He's awake!"

There was the sound of footsteps.

"Matthew? Open your eyes, there's a good lad."

Matthew's vision soon cleared enough to reveal Alfred sitting on the edge of his bed and Arthur standing behind him, both watching him with worry clear on their faces.

"A-Al...?" Matthew whispered, surprised at how hard it was to speak. "Where..."

"Shh, Mattie, don't talk," Alfred urged. "You're in the hospital."

He gave Alfred a questioning look. Al must have gotten the message, because he glanced at Arthur as though asking permission.

Arthur shook his head at the blue-eyed teen. He didn't want to scare Matthew after he'd just woken up. Before Alfred had the chance to say anything else, Arthur stepped closer to the bed.

"How do you feel, Matthew? Does your chest hurt at all?"

Matthew gave a slight nod, feeling the ache in each breath. The feeling wasn't foreign, though he struggled to remember when he's felt it at this particular extreme before.

"What happened...?" Matt managed in a breathy whisper.

"You don't remember?"

A silent shake of the head.

Arthur was silent for a few heartbeats before murmuring, "You collapsed at school. One of the teachers told us you stopped breathing."

Matthew's eyes widened as the memory came rushing back to him. Gym class. Dodgeball. The pain. The feeling that no air was coming in. A voice.Then darkness.

At the thought of it, he must have started to hyperventilate. Arthur put a hand on his shoulder. "Shhh, Matthew, you're okay now... shhh..."

Matthew whimpered softly as he tried to calm his breathing. He closed his eyes and laid his head back down, feeling his father's hand gently squeeze his shoulder.

"Where... where's Papa...?" he managed softly.

A pause.

"He... he had to step out for a moment," Arthur said, speaking as though he was thinking carefully about what he said.

"Why...?"

No response.

In the near-silence of the room, Matthew found himself remembering the sound of tears while in his dream state. The familiarity of the sobs...

Realization hit him like an eighteen-wheeler.

"He was crying... wasn't he?"

Another silent pause.

"D-don't hide things from me," Matthew pleaded. "What's going on?"

Alfred gave him a sad look. "Matt..."

"No," Matthew said. "Don't, Alfred. Don't tiptoe around it... just tell me."

His brother looked away, staring at the floor, before he offered a murmured, hardly audible answer.

"They found cancer in your lungs, Matt."

The words took a moment to sink in.

"C-cancer?"

Alfred nodded, blinking hard. "I'm sorry..."

Matthew could hardly look at his family as fear started to build in his chest. He could hardly voice the question, "They can cure it... right?"

Alfred's mouth pressed into a tight line.

"R-right...?"

Arthur offered the ill twin what he hoped was a comforting smile. "Of course they can. We're looking into treatment options now." He squeezed Matthew's shoulder again, then stood. "Alfred and I are going to go check on your papa. We'll be back soon. Try to get some rest, okay?"

Matthew didn't think he'd ever be able to sleep after news like that, but nonetheless, he nodded. "Okay." He tried to sound brave, he tried to push down the fear, but as soon as Alfred and Arthur had gone, he began to tremble. Tears pricked in his eyes.

Cancer was one of those things he'd always expected to happen to someone else. He had heard stories of the disease, he had been taught about it in school, but he was always sure that that was all the experience he would have on the matter.

He had never once imagined being a victim.

In the emptiness of the darkening white room, he cried himself to sleep.

***

"You left mon fils alone?"

Francis, who had stepped out to bring his emotions under control, seemed to be losing his calm again.

"Do you have any idea how scared he must be? Do you have any idea—"

Arthur gripped his husband's shoulders. "Francis. Pull yourself together."

"You cannot tell him something like that and just leave!"

"Francis! Enough." Green met blue as the Briton held the hysterical Frenchman's gaze in an attempt to calm him. "The poor boy is exhausted; we left so he could get some sleep. If he's going to have any sort of fighting chance, he needs to rest." Arthur's voice was firm, lacking any hint of emotion.

"But if you had just stayed until—"

"Maybe I was worried about you."

Francis paused. The statement was so abrupt that he seemed to be at a loss for words. "What...?"

Arthur grit his teeth. "You heard me." His tone did not stray from its firmness, but the slightest bit of emotion leaked into his voice, whether he was aware of it or not. "This is hard on all of us, and from what I've seen, you especially." He broke his gaze with the taller man. "Dammit, I just don't like seeing you so bloody distraught..."

A moment passed.

"I am... sorry..."

"Stop with the damn apologies. Matthew needs you to be strong.

"Francis took a deep breath. "Oui... I will be strong for my son." He hastily wiped his eyes.

Arthur gave a stiff nod. He kept his gaze lowered.

Neither of them noticed the approaching doctor until she spoke, which caused them both to startle slightly.

"You're the family of Matthew Bonnefoy?"

The two men nodded simultaneously.

The doctor glanced at the clipboard in her hand before speaking further. "After some examination, we determined that your son's cancer is too advanced to be removed surgically. Right now, his best option is probably chemotherapy."

Arthur nodded again. "When would this begin, then?" He managed to remain completely calm and collected (quite unlike his spouse).

"As soon as possible."

Francis finally spoke up: "This treatment will help him? It will make him better?"

"We cannot assure you of the results. But as it stands, it's his best chance."
She spoke as if Matthew was a chemistry experiment.

"So even if we go through with it, there's still a chance that..."

Arthur left the question hanging.

The doctor gave a wordless nod.

There was a long moment where no one spoke; in fact, nothing was audible aside from the quick, heavy ticking of a large analogue clock hanging on the white wall.

An unexpected voice broke the silence.

"Do the chemo."

The three turned to face the source of the voice, which happened to be a familiar bespectacled teen.

"Alfred?" Arthur said in a gentle voice.

"Do the chemo," Alfred repeated. "Mattie has to live."

Only those who knew him well could tell that he was on the brink of tears.

"Alfred..."

Before anyone could react, Alfred turned and walked quickly out of the room.

***

Arthur found his blue-eyed son in the entrance lobby.

Alfred was slouching in one of the uncomfortable blue plastic chairs, his eyes half closed and not focused on anything. To a stranger, he would seem expressionless. But as Arthur sat in the chair next to the teen, and Alfred looked up at him, he saw the tears welling up. He saw the sadness and fear in those blue depths.

"Mattie can't die..."

Arthur's heart clenched. "He's not going to die."

The tears spilled over, and Alfred was hugging Arthur. "Dad... I'm scared..."

"It's okay, Alfred..." Arthur murmured in what he hoped was a soothing manner. "It's going to be okay..."

They sat there for what felt like an eternity. As Alfred's tears began to slow, Arthur pulled back from the hug and gripped the boy's shoulders.

"They're going to do everything they can for Matthew, alright? Lung cancer is survivable."

"But what if it doesn't work?" Alfred whispered, seemingly fearful of voicing the question. "What if he..."

"I forbid you from thinking like that," Arthur said firmly. "Think positive. And keep Matthew thinking positive. It will help him heal."

"Really?"A nod. "I promise, you will not lose your brother."

Alfred offered a nod in return. "Okay."

"Now, why don't we get back to your papa before he works himself into hysterics again?"

"Okay."

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