Matthew hasn't seen his father in eleven years.
But now Arthur wants him to babysit his younger brother while he goes off to London with his new husband.
He doesn't know who this kid is and has never babysat before.
But one thing is clear about t...
Matthew felt like a spy as he stole out of his room and tiptoed across the wood floor of the living room, trying not to wake the Prussian slumbering there. But when he got to the other side of the couch, he saw that Gilbert was still awake, drawing all over his notebook as he lay on his back. "Can't sleep?" He wondered. "I just had a weird dream..." "Vant to talk about it?" "It was just a memory from my childhood..." Matthew sat down in the space Gilbert's feet weren't taking up and pulled his legs to his chest. "Vhat kind of memory?" "Just a fight my dads had once..." "Vhat vas is about?" "Our fifth birthday party." Matthew didn't want to talk anymore. He let his gaze fall away from Gilbert and onto the floor. The Prussian seemed to notice these changes and decided to change the topic. "Are jou hungry?" "Yeah." "I'll make jou breakfast. Vhat do jou vant?" "Pancakes." "Me too." "I'll be upstairs. Just call when they're done:" Matthew got up from his seat and made his way into his man cave. He sat back down on the fluffy mat and let his thoughts drift away. These new characters needed an introduction; and not some half assed one added where he already was. They needed to be brought into the beginning. Which meant he needed to write he story over. That wasn't a problem. Rewrites were only tough when you liked the original story as it was. He dug an old notebook out of the coffee table and a pen from a pencil case in the same spot. It was always good as an author to have a lot of this stuff everywhere. He started to write and it was like a spark had been ignited within him. Where was this inspiration before? Oh well. At least now he had it. As long as he had one chapter. One more chapter could keep his rent going for another week. And then he could write another...and another. Lars didn't care if what he wrote was a first draft or a short story or a polished piece. Matthew didn't care to question why he got such a good deal compared to other writers who couldn't even make enough to feed themselves, let alone pay rent. Unlike them, he could live freely and write without having to get a side job. Stupid capitalism. "Mattie! Peter! Breakfast!" Gilbert called through the house. What a hard choice. Pancakes or work? Maybe... Both... He carried his notebook along with him as he made his way down the stairs. Still writing in it, he tripped on the last step and fell face first on the floor. "Haha!" Peter cackled. "Shit! Are jou okay?!" "I think I broke my urethra." Matthew gasped in pain. "Zhat's vhy jou don't vrite und valk!" Gilbert held out his hand to help Matthew up. "Also...jour phone was on zhe coffee table last night und it beeped." "It was probably an email. I'll check it later." Matthew shrugged. "But first; it's time to eat!"
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