Chapter Text
Chris had no idea what was going on.
First, Jake had walked out of the office looking panicked, leaving Chris to sit alone for what felt like an eternity—probably 40 minutes, but it could’ve been hours for all he knew. The silence and stillness of the room only amplified the growing dread gnawing at him.
Second, when Jake finally returned, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. He muttered something vague about needing Chris to follow him, not giving him any real explanation. Chris barely had time to grab his belongings before Jake was speed-walking out of the room, leaving him no choice but to trail behind him to the other side of the building.
And third, Jake led him straight into Martha’s office, where Matt was already sitting, looking just as lost and confused as Chris felt.
The moment Chris entered the room, Matt’s head shot up, relief flashing across his face. But as soon as he processed the situation—Chris being brought into the same office—confusion replaced that relief. What the hell was going on?
Martha had told Matt she’d only be gone “for a moment,” but that had been 40 minutes ago. Now, she was back with Jake and Chris? None of it made sense.
Jake gestured for Chris to sit next to Matt. That had been five minutes ago, and in all that time, neither Jake nor Martha had said a word. Just silence. Heavy, unbearable silence. Chris couldn’t take it anymore.
“What the hell is going on?” he finally asked, his voice sharp with frustration.
Martha and Jake exchanged a look, one filled with resignation. They had dreaded this moment, but it was unavoidable now.
“Okay, here goes,” Martha began, her voice shaky. “We’re not exactly sure how to approach this, so I’m just going to come out and say it…”
Jake cut her off, blurting out the words like he couldn’t bear to keep them in any longer. “You’re each other’s Match. You. And him. Him. And you!” He pointed back and forth between Chris and Matt like that would somehow make the news easier to digest.
Matt froze. Chris froze.
“Not exactly how I would’ve phrased it, but yes,” Martha said, shooting Jake an exasperated look before turning back to the boys. “The two of you have been Matched together.”
Chris felt like the floor had been ripped out from under him. Matched… to Matt?
Matt, his brother, wasn’t doing much better. He sat stiffly, staring ahead blankly as if the words hadn’t yet registered—or he was actively refusing to let them.
“Do you understand what we’re saying?” Martha asked softly, leaning forward in her chair. Both boys seemed completely zoned out, their faces pale and eyes wide with shock.
Chris finally snapped out of it first, his voice rising in disbelief. “Hold on, hold on, hold on. You’re telling me that the Submissive I’ve been Matched with is my older brother Matt? The person I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with? The person I now own?” He couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice.
Matt flinched at the word own, his hands curling into fists on his lap.
Chris stood abruptly, pacing the room like a caged animal. “No, no, no. This has to be some kind of sick joke.” His voice cracked, and he turned to Martha and Jake, searching their faces for any hint of insincerity.
“I truly wish it was a joke, Christopher,” Martha said gently. “But it’s not. That’s what Jake and I were doing when we stepped out. We went to confirm it with the Department Manager of the Matching Team, and it’s real.” She hesitated, her voice thick with guilt. “I’m sorry, boys. There’s nothing anyone can do.”
Chris’s head was spinning. His mind raced with questions, with fears. His brother? His brother was supposed to be his Submissive? How could this happen? What would people say? What would their parents say? What about Nick?
He glanced at Matt, who hadn’t moved an inch. His brother looked utterly shattered, his usually vibrant blue eyes dull and lifeless. Matt was hugging himself now, his body tense, his gaze fixed on the floor like he was trying to will himself invisible.
Chris’s stomach twisted painfully. For once, he didn’t care about the whispers or judgment this would bring. What gutted him was seeing Matt like this. This was his brother—his Matt. The thought of Matt losing every last shred of his autonomy, of being legally reduced to property, made Chris feel sick.
He looked at Martha again, his voice quieter now but no less desperate. “There’s really… there’s really nothing anyone can do?”
Martha shook her head solemnly. “I’m sorry, Christopher. It’s final. The files have already been sent to the Government.”
Chris’s legs felt weak, but he forced himself to stay standing. His gaze flicked back to Matt, who still hadn’t said a word. He’d never seen his brother look so small, so broken.
Matt didn’t know what was happening. His head felt like it was wrapped in thick, suffocating fog, every thought dissolving before he could grasp it. The sounds around him—Martha’s voice, Chris’s breath—faded into an indistinct hum. His vision went white, a blinding haze that made it impossible to focus on anything. Every inch of his body felt impossibly heavy, like he was weighed down by a thousand pounds.
He realized with dread that he was slipping.
He tried to fight it, desperately clawing at the edges of his consciousness, but it was useless. His body wasn’t listening to him anymore. He felt himself starting to slide down in his chair, gravity pulling him further and further into the void. He wanted to scream, to beg for help, but his voice was trapped somewhere deep inside him.
This can’t be happening. Not here. Not now. Please, no.
But no amount of willpower could stop the inevitable. His head dropped forward, his chin pressing into his chest. His limbs were limp, unresponsive, and he felt like he was barely tethered to the world around him. Fear coursed through him as he realized he was dropping—spiraling into the terrifying abyss of a subdrop.
Across the room, Martha noticed the change in Matt almost immediately. His slumped posture, the way his body seemed to fold in on itself, the glassy, vacant look in his eyes—it all clicked in an instant.
“Oh no, Matthew? Matthew, are you okay?” she asked, her voice trembling. She leaned forward, but he didn’t respond. His chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, and his head hung so low she couldn’t see his face.
Her stomach churned. She’d seen this before.
“Shit,” she muttered, her hands trembling as she turned to Chris. “I think he’s dropping.”
“Dropping? What—fuck!” Chris’s voice cracked, panic flaring in his chest as he whipped his head toward Matt.
Matt looked… vacant. Lifeless. Chris had read about subdrops in his Dom classes—how a Submissive could spiral into an unresponsive state when overwhelmed by fear, stress, or despair.
The last time Matt had fallen into a subdrop, it had been harrowing. Chris could still recall every excruciating detail as if it had just happened. That day had been a culmination of relentless bullying at school, Matt’s already fragile state, and a random stranger’s cruelty. It had left scars on all of them—Chris most of all.
It started with those assholes at school. They’d mocked Matt mercilessly for being a Submissive, sneering about his blue marks and calling him every derogatory name they could think of. Their words had clung to Matt all day, weighing him down like lead.
Chris had tried to cheer him up after school, dragging him into a nearby convenience store with a grin and telling him to pick out any candy he wanted. “My treat,” Chris had said, his tone playful, though his eyes were full of worry.
For a moment, it had worked. Matt had wandered the aisles, his hoodie pulled tight around him, his fingers lingering over colorful wrappers. Chris thought he’d managed to lift Matt’s spirits, even if just a little.
But then it happened.
A woman in the store noticed Matt. Her gaze lingered on his blue marks, barely visible under his hood, and her expression shifted from mild disinterest to outright disgust.
It was like a dam had burst.
“You filthy little Submissive,” she hissed, loud enough for half the store to hear. “Walking around like you’re normal. Like you belong. Disgusting.”
Matt froze. Chris’s head whipped around, his protective instincts flaring, but before he could say anything, Matt placed his snacks back on the shelf and quietly walked out of the store.
“Matt! Don’t listen to her,” Chris called, grabbing their bags and running after him. He caught up, grabbing Matt’s hand, which was trembling. “Matt, she’s just a—” He stopped himself. Matt’s tears were streaming silently down his face, his jaw tight as he walked with purpose toward home.
Chris’s heart shattered, but he knew better than to press. He just held Matt’s hand tightly, staying by his side, feeling utterly helpless.
When they got home, Matt headed straight upstairs, bypassing their parents and Justin, who were sitting in the living room. “Matt, honey?” Marylou called gently, concern etching her voice. But Matt didn’t respond. He disappeared down the hallway, the door to their shared room clicking shut behind him.
Chris lingered at the door, pulling off his shoes. “Bad day,” he muttered to his mom before following Matt upstairs.
The first thing he heard was Nick’s annoyed voice. “Jesus Christ, Matt, can you take your dirty shoes off before you come in here? Stupid kid.”
Chris barely made it into the room in time to see the aftermath. Matt crumpled to the floor, his body folding in on itself as he began sobbing uncontrollably. Nick’s eyes widened in shock, panic setting in almost immediately. “Matt? I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it—it’s fine, really! Please don’t cry, I’m sorry!” Nick babbled, crouching down and rubbing Matt’s back, clearly out of his depth.
Chris let out a steadying breath, trying to push down his own panic. “Nick, it’s not you,” he said firmly, kneeling beside them. “This isn’t your fault.”
He reached out, placing a hand on Matt’s back. His fingers recoiled slightly at the chill radiating from Matt’s skin. “Matt? Princess? You’re okay. Let’s get you into bed, okay? You’ll feel better there.”
But Matt didn’t move. His body was stiff, trembling slightly, his cries tapering into shallow breaths. His gaze was blank, unfocused, and his skin was pale.
“Matt? Can you hear us?” Nick asked gently, but there was no response.
Chris’s heart sank. He shared a grim look with Nick, his voice trembling as he said, “He’s dropping. He’s freezing, Nick. He can’t hear us.”
“Shit,” Nick whispered. “What do you need?”
Chris shifted into action. “Help me get him out of these clothes and into something warm. He needs to feel safe.”
They worked quickly but carefully, lifting Matt and guiding him to Chris’s bed. Chris whispered to him the whole time, keeping his tone soft and steady. “You’re doing so well, Matty. Nick and I are so proud of you. We’re just going to get you comfortable, okay? You’re safe.”
Matt was pliant but unresponsive, his head lolling slightly as they maneuvered him. His vacant stare was enough to make Chris’s stomach churn.
Nick returned with a pair of trackies and a thick sweater, as well as his own fluffy socks—something Matt secretly loved despite giving Nick endless shit about them. “Here,” Nick said breathlessly. “How do you want to do this?”
“Let’s just get it done,” Chris said, his voice tight.
It took some effort, but they managed to dress Matt in the warm clothes and tuck him under the thickest blankets they could find. Chris climbed into bed beside him, pulling Matt close, cradling him as if he could physically shield him from the pain.
“I’ve got you, Matty,” Chris whispered, pressing his lips to Matt’s hair. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
Nick sat on the edge of the bed, watching the two of them with a mixture of worry and guilt. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s not you,” Chris interrupted firmly. “He’s been holding this in all day. This was just the last straw.”
The three of them sat in silence, Chris continuing to whisper soft reassurances as Matt lay comatose in his arms. His fingers ran through Matt’s hair, and he pressed gentle kisses to his temple, doing everything he could to pull his brother back from the void.
Chris swore to himself that day he’d never let this happen again. Yet here they were, just two months later, and Matt was slipping again.
And just like last time, Chris felt powerless to stop it.
Matt took a little more time to come back to himself, but as soon as Chris managed to get him back into his chair, the door burst open. Martha and Jake returned, their presence filling the room like a slap to the face. Martha was holding a collar.
The sight of it made Chris’s stomach churn. It wasn’t just an idea anymore. It wasn’t a hypothetical. It was real. All of it.
Matt couldn’t take his eyes off it either, the slim black band dangling from Martha’s hands like a noose. The tiny silver tag caught the light as it swayed, and for Matt, it was like the world around him dimmed. Everything else—the room, the voices, even Chris—blurred out of focus as the weight of what was about to happen slammed into him like a freight train.
“Boys, as much as I sympathize with you—and believe me, I do—my boss is pushing for this to be completed. We’ve already taken too long, apparently,” Martha said honestly, though her voice held no edge, just the resignation of someone who didn’t have a choice.
Jake hovered behind her, chewing his thumb nail nervously. His usual confidence was gone, replaced with a visible unease as though he couldn’t believe they were really doing this. “Are you both able to continue?” he asked awkwardly.
Chris opened his mouth, ready to refuse, to argue, to say something. But then Matt’s voice broke through the room like a ghost. “Just do it.”
It was quiet, nearly a whisper, but it cut straight through Chris’s chest. His brother’s tone wasn’t angry, it wasn’t panicked—it was hollow.
Chris looked at him, searching for something, anything, in his face that could tell him Matt was okay. He found nothing.
“This is insane,” Chris muttered, running a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up in his chest. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“I understand, Christopher. I really do,” Martha said softly, almost pleading. “But we need to get this finalized. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, whatever. Get it over with then,” Chris snapped, his voice tight.
“Thank you, boys,” Martha said quietly, before regaining her professional tone. “Okay. Since Christopher is the Dominant, he is required to place this collar onto Matthew as a symbol of ownership. Matthew baring his neck to you signifies compliance and acceptance. With Jake and myself here as witnesses, once the collar is secured, you will both be free to leave.”
The word ownership sent bile up Chris’s throat. He wanted to fight back, scream at how ridiculous and cruel this all was, but he couldn’t. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.
“Do you both understand?” Martha asked, looking between them.
Chris glanced at Matt again, whose head was still hanging low, eyes glued to the floor. His shoulders were hunched, body curling in on itself like he was trying to disappear. Chris’s chest ached.
“This is fucking insane,” Chris repeated bitterly, his voice barely above a whisper as he looked at Martha with a glare.
Matt exhaled shakily, his voice as soft and tired as before. “Just get it over with. I want to go home.”
Martha hesitated, her lips pressing together like she wanted to apologize, but instead, she passed the collar to Chris.
“Okay. Christopher, by accepting this collar, you agree to care for and provide for your Match, Matthew Sturniolo. You are responsible for his every need as his lawful owner. Do you accept?”
Chris stared down at the collar in his hands, fingers trembling. He turned it over, his heart sinking as he read the tag:
Matthew Sturniolo
Property of Christopher Sturniolo
678-999-8212
His throat closed up. He wanted to vomit. “Not like I have a choice, do I?” he muttered bitterly. “Yes.”
Martha nodded solemnly before turning to Matt. “Matthew, by baring your neck, you understand that you are now the legal property of Christopher Sturniolo. You understand that all of your belongings, your body inclusive, belong to him. You agree to submit and obey his every command. Do you agree?”
Matt’s chest felt like it had caved in. There was nothing left in him to fight. He took a shaky breath, letting it out as a soft, resigned, “Yes.”
Chris swallowed hard as Martha continued. “Okay, Christopher, please place the collar onto Matthew’s neck.”
Chris felt like his entire world was spiraling. His brother—his twin, the boy he’d spent his whole life protecting—was sitting there, broken and quiet, waiting for Chris to collar him like some kind of animal. His hands shook as he lifted the collar.
“I’m so sorry, Matt,” Chris whispered, his voice full of anguish as he leaned closer.
Matt didn’t move. He didn’t look up. He just kept his head bowed, letting Chris gently slide the collar around his neck and fasten it into place.
The small click of the buckle closing was deafening.
Chris sat back, his hands falling uselessly into his lap. He couldn’t bear to look at the collar on Matt’s neck, the silver tag gleaming like a cruel mark of ownership.
Matt kept his eyes down, his hands curling into fists in his lap as though gripping onto the last pieces of himself. He didn’t feel like a person anymore. He felt like property—just like they’d said.
He just wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and pretend none of this had happened.
Chris didn’t move either. He sat frozen, his gaze lingering on Matt like he was silently willing his brother to know: I don’t want this. I’ll make this okay. Somehow, I’ll fix this.
But neither of them could find the strength to say it out loud.
The two of them made their way down to the reception in silence, the distance between them feeling far more than the few feet separating their bodies. Neither of them spoke, neither dared to meet the other’s eyes. Chris kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, fists clenched at his sides, while Matt’s fingers tugged restlessly at the collar around his neck. Every tug seemed more desperate, as if he could somehow pull it off, pull himself out of this nightmare.
Chris noticed the movement and, after a moment, forced himself to speak. “Is it... is it too tight?” His voice came out strained, unsure, and he didn’t even try to make eye contact with Matt. He didn’t think he could stomach seeing his brother like this—his brother, collared and marked as his property.
Matt flinched at the question, but he didn’t look at Chris either. “No,” he mumbled, so quiet Chris could barely hear him. “It’s fine.”
That was a lie. The collar wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine. The way it sat snug around his neck made his skin crawl, like a constant reminder of what he was now—what they were. And the worst part was that Chris had been the one to put it there. His brother, the person he trusted more than anyone else in the world, had been the one to fasten that collar and strip Matt of what little autonomy he’d had left.
But Chris wasn’t his brother anymore. Not really. That word—brother—felt foreign now, like something that belonged to a past version of themselves. Chris was his Dominant, and he was Chris’s Submissive. That was their new reality. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t asked for this or that they didn’t want it. The system didn’t care.
Matt stopped walking suddenly, his shoulders sagging as he let out a shaky breath. Chris paused, startled, but didn’t move to close the space between them.
“What are we even supposed to do now?” Matt asked, his voice trembling but tinged with frustration. “How do we... how do we even be us anymore, Chris?” He swallowed thickly. “We’re not even brothers now. We’re—” He couldn’t finish the sentence. The words were too heavy to say out loud.
Chris froze. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have an answer. Matt’s words hit him like a punch to the gut because he’d been thinking the same thing—turning it over in his head since they’d left Martha’s office. We’re not brothers. Not anymore. That bond, that easy sense of family between them, had been replaced by something grotesque.
They weren’t just Dominant and Submissive. They were... Matched. Matched forever, locked into a dynamic that they couldn’t escape. And because of that, they were now a romantic pair in the eyes of the system. There would be no one else for either of them—not now, not ever. Chris would never have a girlfriend. Matt would never have a boyfriend or anyone else. They belonged to each other now, for better or worse, no matter how much they hated it.
Chris took a deep breath, opening his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. What was there to say? That he was sorry? That he wished this wasn’t happening? That he didn’t know how to be Matt’s owner any more than Matt knew how to be his Submissive? That all of this was too much, too wrong, and he hated it just as much as Matt did?
Instead, Chris shook his head and looked away, his voice flat when he finally replied. “I don’t know.”
Matt’s face fell. He’d been hoping, praying, that Chris might have some answer, some reassurance that everything would be okay, that this wouldn’t destroy them. But Chris didn’t. He couldn’t.
And that scared Matt more than anything.
“Right,” Matt whispered, pulling at his collar again. “Yeah. Me neither.”
The silence between them stretched as they stood there, both of them staring anywhere but at each other. For the first time in their lives, they didn’t know where they stood. That easy, unshakable bond they’d always shared felt like it had been cracked down the center, and neither of them knew how to piece it back together.
Chris shoved his hands into his pockets, looking toward the reception doors like they might hold the answers he couldn’t find. “We should go,” he muttered, the words feeling heavy as they left his mouth. “Mom and Dad are waiting.”
Matt didn’t move right away. He didn’t want to go out there. He didn’t want to see his parents’ faces when they realized what had happened, didn’t want to hear their reassurances that it would all be okay when he knew it wouldn’t be. Not anymore.
But eventually, he nodded and took a shaky step forward. Chris followed, keeping pace beside him, but the space between them still felt like a canyon—wide, empty, impossible to cross.
They didn’t speak again as they walked through the doors, and for the first time, neither of them knew what came next.