Knull Meg Hardt, Pappa

Resistansen

Second years do not get orientation packs :/

All three of the boys were out of the house that day and Arthur didn't know what do do with himself.
He could have kept Peter at home, but they had already paid for him to go to daycare while Arthur and Francis worked. There was no point in wasting money like that. He thought it would be good to have the house to himself, but it was actually just...lonely.
And since he had taken a month off of work, it was going to be a long couple of weeks.
He could have been working on funeral stuff...but he had already paid the funeral home to handle everything. All he needed to do was drop off the suit Francis was supposed to be buried in. He was going to do that on the way home from picking the kids up that day.
What did he used to do on his days off? He couldn't even remember anymore.
He settled with chain drinking tea in front of the tv, trying to clock out for a while. It wasn't working, no matter how much tea he drank.
He wasn't sure exactly when the tears started, but they came out harshly. He was choking on them, and they were soaking his face. He clutched his stomach, coughing and sputtering. He was alone in the house so he had the freedom to be as loud as he wanted, but he hated this feeling. He felt weak and vulnerable like this.
The doorbell rang through the house, interrupting his crying. He sat up, wiping off his eyes and trying to compose himself.
By the time he got to the door, his crying was held back but he was still sluggish and he bet his eyes were red.
"Artie...ya doing okay?" Alister stood on the front porch, a covered plate in his hands. "I brought leftovers from Dylan. The twins probably want something edible..."
"Hey! You guys suck at cooking too!"
"My haggis is top of the line!"
"It's haggis!"
"I'm glad you can still tease me like this. It means you're not so hurt that you can't take care of those boys."
Arthur huffed. "It wasn't teasing. It was a valid piece of criticism."
"Okay there, Gordon Ramsay."
"Do you want a tea?"
"Aye. Sure." Alister stepped into the house, dropping the plate into Arthur's arms.
"You know where it is." Arthur sighed. His older brother practically lived here.
"How are the lads taking the whole thing?" Alister asked as the two siblings migrated to the kitchen.
"I told them Francis was abducted by aliens."
"That's going to backfire on ya in a few years."
"Probably. But I just can't bare to see them grieve like that, at least not while I'm still dealing with it." Since when did he get this deep with Alister? This wasn't normal for him. But then...neither was sobbing on the couch.
"Have you thought about finding somebody to talk to?"
"I don't know...Francis was the only one I really got emotional with. And it took him ages to get that close to me." Arthur sat down at the table, putting his head in his arms. "By the time somebody did manage to get to that point, I'd already be okay."
"Just don't keep it bottled up, okay?" Alister poured the still-hot water from the kettle into two cups and handed one of the finished drinks to his brother. "Do you need me to pick up the boys?"
"No. I want to check with their teacher to see if they're okay in school...Matthew didn't take Francis being gone very well. You know how close they were."
"Aye. Those two were like peas in a pod."
"I had to lay next to him to get him to fall asleep. It was better than sleeping in my own bed, though." Arthur took a sip of his tea. "And he's on the bottom bunk, so I can actually get into the bed. I can't fit on that top bunk to save my life."
"How do ya change the sheets, then?"
"Francis always did. He was more limber." Arthur sighed. "I'll have to teach them to make their own beds now, won't I?"
"Better late than never."
"Being widowed is no fun at all."

Imagine reading this and then going back and reading tame me and cringing at how badly I wrote the Scottish accent.