Safe and Sound (An APH PruCan Story)

Monotone

CHAPTER TWO: Monotone

"Would Alfred Kirkland please report immediately to the main office?"

Alfred, who was in the middle of a chemistry test, froze when he heard his name over the loudspeaker. He never got called down to the office unless he was in trouble.

He shot his teacher a questioning look; after seeing her nod, he stood and collected his books before exiting the classroom and making his way towards the office. As he walked, he racked his brain trying to think of what he'd done that was disobedient enough to warrant a trip to the office.

Oh, god, had they finally found him out about the potato incident?

As he reached the end of the hall, he entered the office expecting a detention, or something.

But the principal didn't look angry.

Maybe he was misinterpreting her glare, but her expression was one of an emotion that she had never directed at Alfred before.

Concern.

"Alfred," she began (which scared Alfred a little; she always referred to him as "Mr. Kirkland"), "I've been informed that your father is coming to pick you up."

Alfred blinked. "Huh? Why?"

"It is not my place to say. But he should be here soon. Please have a seat."

Confused, Alfred sat near the window, which faced the parking lot. What was going on? His dad never picked him up early from school on such short notice.

Before long, a familiar black car pulled up to the curb. A few seconds later, Alfred's dad stepped out, and approached the school. Upon entering the office, he signed Alfred out without a word, then motioned for Alfred to follow him.

Alfred stood and walked quickly behind him, a pit of worry starting to form in his stomach. Why was his dad acting so... tense?

When he opened the car door, Alfred noticed with a jolt that the ignition was still running. Were they in a hurry?

He got in quickly and buckled up, while Arthur practically leapt into the driver's seat next to him. Five more seconds, and they were leaving the school behind them.

"Dad," Alfred inquired after a pause, "what's going on?"

Arthur grit his teeth before responding:

"Your brother collapsed earlier. He stopped breathing."

Alfred's stomach dropped.

"They had to call an ambulance. He's lucky one of the other students knew CPR."

There was another pause as Alfred let it sink in.

After a moment, he managed to choke out, "I-is Mattie...?"

"From what I've been told, they got him breathing again... but they still had to hospitalize him."

"Is he gonna be okay...?"

Arthur didn't look at Alfred. "I'm sure he will."

They were silent for the rest of the ride.

XxXxXxXxX

It only took them a few minutes to reach the hospital, but it felt like an eternity to Alfred.

As soon as they entered the white-washed building, Arthur approached the front desk. "Excuse me?" he said to the woman at the computer. "Could you tell me where I can find Matthew Bonnefoy's room?"

The woman nodded, and after a few clicks of her mouse, she said, "Room 213. On the second floor, left side of the hallway if you're coming out of the elevator."

"Thank you," said Arthur, voice even more tense than it had been in the car. He led Alfred to the elevator without another word.

The two of them were on the second floor in a matter of moments, where they wasted no time in finding Matthew's room.

Alfred hesitated at the door, but after a moment, he took a cautious step inside.

He was greeted with the soft hum of machines and the beeping of a heart monitor. Francis was there, in an uncomfortable looking chair next to the bed. He looked up as they entered. His face was tear stained. He softly held the hand of the silent figure on the bed.

Alfred's eyes strayed to his unconscious brother. Matthew's face was very pale, his eyes tightly closed, his breaths seeming painful and erratic. He had a clear plastic oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth. His glasses had been removed and placed on the table beside him.

"Mattie..." Alfred whispered, approaching the bed. He pulled up a chair and sat next to Francis, who was looking back down at his sleeping son's face again.

Arthur approached Francis slowly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Are they telling you anything about this, Francis? Did they say what caused this?"

The Frenchman shook his head forlornly. "Not a word," he whispered, his voice thick with tears.

Arthur gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze. "He'll be okay. They managed to revive him, didn't they?"

He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Francis.

"I suppose..." Francis murmured, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles on the back of Matthew's hand.

Before anyone else could speak, a nurse entered, holding a clipboard. "Are you his..." She looked up and saw the two men. "...um... parents?" she finished cautiously.

"Yes," Arthur said, paying no heed to her obvious discomfort.

Francis looked up at her, his eyes filling with tears. "What is wrong with my son?" The distress in his voice was evident.

"At the moment, we have no clear cause. However, we're running some tests, and we should know as soon as we get the results. Until then, it's probably best that he stays here."

Francis gave a slight nod, the tears threatening to spill over.

"Thank you," said Arthur, giving her a nod of his own as he squeezed Francis's shoulder again.

The nurse excused herself from the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Francis had to excuse himself as well not five minutes later, unable to hold in the tears any longer, unable to see his son looking so ill any longer. Arthur followed him with the intent of comforting him, leaving Alfred alone with his brother.

Alfred sat in silence for a while, listening to the monotone beeping of the heart monitor as it echoed in his eardrums.

Matthew whimpered softly in his sleep.

Leaning forward, Alfred softly brushed Mattie's blonde bangs from his eyes. He glanced at the door, making sure he was alone, then bent over the bed and kissed his twin gently on the forehead.

"Mattie," he whispered, "please be okay."