Chapter Text
***
Mattheo doesn't know what to expect.
Time flew by faster than he anticipated, and soon enough Theodore's parents were coming back by tomorrow.
Yeah. Mattheo definitely doesn't know what to expect. (Why did it have to end so soon?)
He had never met them, never spoken to them. He didn't expect much from them, he's practically a foreigner invading their home. He didn't expect much from adult nowdays. He hasn't since he was a child. (He still is.)
Who knows what they'll do? Kick him out, probably. Or worse, send him back. (The thought of going back alone is enough to make him start hyperventilating.)
He doesn't know what to do.
Theodore has told him on many occasions that his parents are lovely people, and they will understand once they explain the situation. As long as they agree (Which they will, a certain son of theirs constantly reminds him), Mattheo is free. All he has to do is trust an adult. No problem. It's not like they're the source of all his problems.
It's not like Tom will even notice. He never did. He never will again.
Mattheo thinks of him more often than not. He hates thinking about him. He doesn't want to remember him, or remember his saccharine whispers of false promise, or his stupid, stupid smell of cigarettes and alcohol.
He can't really escape him, not really. Not ever. Not when he's in every smell of cigarette, every loud noise, every hand raised in the slightest bit, not knowing whether it's just to slip their hands around Mattheo's neck or to drag him by his hair and lock him in a tiny room.
The nightmare's began two weeks ago.
(He started smoking a week ago.)
It all started the first night he woke up screaming.
It was a fine day. He was with Theodore eating breakfast. They were talking about all sorts of things, or rather, Theodore was talking about all sorts of things. Like Marvel movies, to the last Series he watched, the last book he read, to the newest GTA game.
Mattheo just watched him rant; he wasn't really in the mood to talk lately. He just threw in a sarcastic remark here and there, but that was it.
He would sometimes engage in the conversation, or make small talks about something if it was a good day. It was fine, Theodore didn't expect much from him. (Which hurt, because wanted--needed--to be more. He isn't much, and this is the only way he can repay Theodore.
It isn't enough.)
It was a fine day. He went to bed, stayed up a little late because sleep would just not come to him despite how tired he was. He didn't even know when he was asleep. All he knows is he woke up to yelling.
His first instinct was to find the smallest corner to hide in until the yelling stopped.
His second instinct was to go investigate. (He always was too curious for his own good.)
Next thing he knew, he found himself right at the source. Being yelled at.
What?—
"If you don't come home this instant I swear to god I won't even care if the entire neighborhood heard you!" Tom yelled, his voice seemed weirdly reverberated, as if there was a thousand of him yelling at once.
It echoed in Mattheo's brain, making him wince through blurry vision. When had he started crying? No, no, no. Tom hated crying. He can't see him cry. (He can't see him show weakness.)
When Mattheo hesitated for a second, just a split second, Tom grabbed him hard by the bicep, digging his nails into his skin. Mattheo muffled his scream.
"Wait, wait— nonono, please—" He cried, his weak protesting was met with another harsh set of nails digging deeper into his skin. (Dammit, why is he always so weak when it comes to him?)
"If you don't shut up right now, I'm gonna cut off your tongue."
One look was enough to convince Mattheo he wasn't joking.
Next things next, he was in their house.
When did they arrive?
Tom practically had to drag Mattheo for they were both determined to let neither of the other reach their goal. (And always, only one of them succeed. Always the other is destined to lose.)
Tom wanted him. He won't let him escape, not for as long as he can. He thinks to be his parent is to deserve to do whatever he pleased to him. Mold him into whatever shape he wants, then complain when it doesn't hold.
Mattheo wanted out. He didn't want Tom. He used to want him, to oblige to him, to his needs. To just take the beating without asking,
'why? Did I deserve it?
Did I really?'
He soon realized Tom is a dangerous creature, he didn't love him, he loved the idea of a perfect son. Even pretending to love Mattheo didn't last much long. (Is he that unlovable?)
As if Tom could sense his flaws from the beginning, he tried to mold him to his bidding, to be a perfect son. But some flaws were just as transparent on Mattheo as clear water was.
The clay was too damp, it was never meant to hold out for long.
Tom didn't like that. Tom didn't like him. He never did, And Mattheo didn't know how to change that. He wasn't even sure he could change it. (And if he can't change for his own flesh and blood, then how can he expect himself to change for others? To change, to become better, for Theo?)
When he was old enough to think for himself, he questioned certain things Tom did. Like why did other parents were teaching their kids how to ride a bike when Tom was teaching him how to lie as a constitutional second language?
Maybe he knew the answer, or maybe he didn't want it confirmed, so he locked those thoughts away. He locked them away in a room in his house of memories and threw its keys away.
He never quite questioned him again, in fear of losing him. His trust. His love. His affection. He craved it. He hated that he did, but he still did. He didn't know who he would be without him, and he sometimes thought maybe it was for the better.
Who would he be if he didn't made him who he is?
But as time went on, he eyed the room more and more. And the more he looked at the room, the more he wanted to find the lost key.
And that day, the day Tom broke his promise rebukingly, Mattheo had Found the key.
And realizing that his father was never a dad to him broke him. He spent so long looking for his validation that he lost himself in the chaos of it all. (He lost himself for far too long, and now he isn't sure he can ever find himself again.)
He didn't know who he was without him. He didn't even know who he was supposed to be if he couldn't do even the simplest things asked of him. Is he supposed to be his son or just someone with his DNA that failed to be what he was supposed to be?
So, in the midst of his internal struggle, he ran.
He ran to the only person who made sense to him when nothing else did.
(The only person who cared.)
Theodore.
He held onto him as if he let go, he too, would leave him. He didn't know if he could survive losing someone he loved twice. He especially didn't know if he could survive losing someone who loved him back without expecting anything in return.
He didn't even know if he, himself, is gonna survive.
The door is constantly open and Mattheo lost the keys again. Not on purpose this time. It's as if the keys had vanished, as if god, if he is even real, had decided to slip those memories into his mind and play it on repeat.
When he closes the door, it opens again. Sometimes he is having a great day, he is doing fine. The doors from his house of memories are the same, and sometimes he opens that door.
And he just can't quite close it.
He has lost the keys, it will never close for evermore.
And when the memories are too much, he visits Theodore. In memories, in real life, in his dreams. He doesn't know how or when, but it was like suddenly one day he trusted him with his life.
He was his safe place, where doesn't need to work for validation or mask his personality.
It just made sense. He made sense. With him, he didn't need to pretend for anything.
When Mattheo realized where Tom was heading he thrashed. He kicked and screamed and begged and ripped at Tom's arm, but he didn't budge. He never budged or hesitated. Not once in his life. Not when it came to hurting Mattheo. Never when it came to hurting Mattheo. As if it was a natural part of his life; something always to be expected.
(He doesn't know why the thought still hurts after all this time.)
He led him to a small closet, the same closet Mattheo spent half his childhood inside whenever he 'misbehaved'. The same one Tom locked him inside knowing he is scared of small spaces.
He pleaded but to no avail. It's not like Tom ever listened to him, why would he start now?
"Pleasepleaseplease— I swear— I won't ever try anything again just please, please,
please—" Mattheo pleaded. But Tom didn't listen to him as he pulled the closet door open. He didn't listen to him as he threw him inside. He didn't listen to him as he locked the door. He sure as hell didn't stick around long enough to listen to him screaming.
"Dad? Dad! I swear I won't do anything again justpleasepleasepleaseletmeout—"
"Why won't you just listen to me? Pleaseplease ."
"Dad? Please, just— please... I'm tired..."
How long has it been since Mattheo hugged his knees to his chest? How long has it been since he pretended he wasn't there? Has it been minutes? Hours? Days?
He had lost long his voice from so much screaming, his tears spilled till he was dried up and thirsty. He knew he couldn't fool himself. He was still there.
He risked a glance around and saw pitch black. His back was to the side of the door, barely giving him space to shift around. He swore each time he looked, it felt like the doors were shrinking and would eventually swallow him whole, leaving not even the slightest portion of him behind. No part of him left, just memories and his old beat up cassette collection. Who would even want those either way? They'd probably donated, each piece of him scattered across the world.
He was tired. It might've been a long time since he was inside that closet because he was slowly losing consciousness. He can't fall asleep— he still needs to get out. He has to get out. How is he supposed to get out? He can't see anything, his body is numb, he feels weaker than ever. He can't even begin to lift himself up.
He slowly starts panicking, his only anchor to sanity was that he could find some way to escape, to unlock the door, that he could do it. But now he isn't so sure, and who knows when he will let him out?
He whimpered, his body beginning to shake uncontrollably. He tried to think of something, anything, to keep him from lashing out again. Please, please please.
His first immediate thought was Theodore.
Theodore.
Theodore.
What was the last thing he remembered about him?
Think, think, think.
His thoughts were like a dream, he knew it, experienced it, yet the second he tried to make sense of it, it all became one blurry line of memory.
Like a dream.
When was the last time he talked to him?
Just before he went to bed.
Wait, but no— that doesn't make any sense. Yesterday, he was here, at home with— with Theodore. At his house.
Like a fuzzy memory, a trigger reminded him of everything at once. The last week, Tom's sober days, his words, his promises, running to Theodore, staying at his house—
He was dreaming.
Mattheo was dreaming.
This wasn't real.
This isn't real, it's not real, it's not real, it's not.
Mattheo snapped his head around, taking a long and careful look around him. It felt real, yet something.. something about it didn't stick to him.
Somehow it all felt like one very vivid dream. And wow, surprisingly (<— sarcastic), it was.
"This isn't real, this isn't real," Mattheo muttered to himself immediately at once, not one ounce of intention to stay there any longer. "So just wake up, wake up, wake up," He sounded skeptical, even to himself.
"Wake up, wake up, wake up," He said louder, his hands gripping the side of his head. Maybe if he felt enough pain, if he hurt enough he would wake up.
"Wake up!"
He gripped his hair harder.
"Wake up!"
He pulled.
"Wake up! Wake up! Wake Up!"
He screamed.
He screamed again. This time, he shot up from his bed.
He immediately looked around and cried of relief when he saw he wasn't in the closet anymore. He shakily pulled his knees up to his chest, letting out uncontrollable sobs as he tried to control his breathing.
He knew he was having a panic attack. He knew how to calm down from one, yet he just couldn't seem to do it. That didn't make things any better.
His head snapped to the door as he heard footsteps approaching. He slightly flinched away as the door creaked ajar. Theodore's tentative frame slowly came into view, and if Mattheo let out a cry of relief, no one needed to know that.
Theodore cautiously approached him, as if approaching a wounded animal.
He slowly crept closer and closer until he was by Mattheo's side. When Mattheo didn't pull away, Theodore pulled him in and held him gently. Not too firmly nor too loosely.
"Shhh, you're okay, you're not there anymore," Theodore whispered. And at that Mattheo let out a harder sob and gasped for air, because there just wasn't enough. Why was there never enough air for him? Why did he constantly have to be on edge with air as if it's gonna dissipate from his lungs any second?
"I can't, please, please, I can't," Mattheo whimpered.
"Yes, you can. You can breathe, it doesn't have to be easy, and it's not gonna be. But you can do it. You've done it before, you can do it again." Theodore assured him, somehow even gentler, if it was even possible.
He has done it before. He can do it again.
Breathe.
Mattheo doesn't know how long passed, but he slowly regained his control over his breathing.
There was enough air for him again.
He didn't wanna move out of Theodore's arms. It felt safe. Safe in a way he doesn't know how to decipher. He just knew that if he could, he would stay here forever.
He took a deep breath.
"Thank you," his voice cracked.
"There is nothing to thank, Theo, you did it all on your own." Theodore whispered in his ear. He started slowly stroking his curls now.
Mattheo would have smiled at that, but he didn't even have the energy to move. He should move. It was over. It was all a dream. He didn't need to dwell on it, although locking that door in his house of memories would not be easy. He would find the key again. It would happen all over again. He can't do it all over again. So instead, he'll just leave the door wide open, that was it can't hurt him again if it's always there. He can just learn to ignore it. He can do that.
The next morning, they never spoke of it.
In fact, they never did speak of it.
***
The second night he woke up from a nightmare, Theodore was there again. Somehow the second night felt worse than the first.
***
The third night Mattheo woke up from a nightmare, he managed to hold his scream in.
Theodore was never there again.
***
On the seventh night, Mattheo slipped away to the balcony.
He pulled out a cigarette he found in a cabinet in the kitchen.
He knew he shouldn't.
He lit it up anyways.
Tom would've been proud.
***
It wasn't supposed to become a regular thing. It really didn't.
But the escapism felt worth it.
The way it tasted on his lips, the way the smoke dissolved into nothing, the way it felt like a souvenir.
He can never let Theodore know.
***
It's been a week.
His parents were coming back tomorrow, Mattheo felt more nervous than ever. Theodore assured him they will love him, but somehow Mattheo doubted that. Not once they learn about his father. Or just himself in general.
On several occasions, Mattheo considered running away again as an option, but conceded against it last minute. Maybe he would just be better off alone, maybe then he wouldn't have to be a burden to so many people.
He could always do that, but for the meantime, a true meetup with Theodore's parents didn't sound so bad.
"You know, you just gotta be yourself, they are very humorous people." Theodore said.
"Sure, I'll just make trauma jokes and see their reaction, maybe then they'll have sympathy for a traumatized child and keep a roof over his head." Mattheo drawled.
Theodore rolled his eyes. "That's not how I meant it, douchebag,"
"Yeah, yeah," Mattheo brushed him off. He knew what he meant, but it was always amusing seeing Theodore fumble as he tries to explain his intentions.
"I mean, come one," Theodore started. "Tragic backstory, orphan, my Bestfriend, Obviously they'll let you stay."
"I'm not an orphan," Mattheo scoffed.
"Well, I mean, you're halfway there." Theodore brushed him off.
Mattheo snorts at his response. "'Halfway there'," he mimicked. "Yeah, that one was funny so I'll let it slide, not because I like you or something. That'd be cringe."
They sat in silence for a moment. It wasn't a heavy type of silence, just silence.
"You wanna play some Zelda?" Theodore finally asked.
"You know, sometimes I wonder if you are a mind reader, Nott." Mattheo Said, which implied as a 'yes'.
Theodore grinned and they both raced upstairs at once.
In the end, they laughed so much they didn't even get the slightest bit of the game done, but it was alright. They could always do it another day.
They had time. Probably not long, but they had time. Mattheo just hoped it would be enough to love Theodore the way he deserves by the end.
***
Theodores parents were coming back in two hours.
"Do you think I should look more presentable?"
"You look just fine."
Pause.
"But what if they don't like me? What if they like me but still won't let me stay?"
"No, they won't. I promise, alright?"
A sigh.
"Okay,"
Another pause.
"I just— I don't know, I have this apprehensive feeling that they won't like me," Mattheo winced.
"Oh yeah?" Theodore said. "And does your feelings know that I am ten seconds away from punching you?"
Mattheo gave him a look. Theodore's eyes bored right back to his.
"Fair enough," Mattheo sighed.
"Listen, just— don't try too hard, okay? Or just don't try at all, I promise they will still like you. I mean, they like me," Theodore chuckled slightly.
"But, you're you, and they're your parents." Mattheo rationalized.
"Just because they aren't your parents doesn't mean that they can't treat you like their son." Theodore said softly.
"I'm just not sure about this, adults in my life haven't exactly made the best impression." Mattheo whispered.
Theodore pulled him closer until Mattheo's head was wrapped around his arms.
They stayed like that for a few moments, minutes, however long they both needed. Mattheo didn't pull away, so neither did Theodore.
Mattheo didn't deserve Theodore, and Theodore didn't deserve Mattheo. And maybe the tragedy is that they both don't deserve each other for different reasons.
"Come on, you wanna raid the fridge with me?" Theodore finally asked.
"Sure, just like how we have everyday for the past two weeks." Mattheo said fondly.
Theodore was oblivious to the way Mattheo winced with each step he took, the cigarette burn marks from last night still fresh on his thighs.
***
Mattheo heard them before he saw them. And that perhaps was scarier than actually metting them.
The whirling of their car stepped into their porch. Time stretched longer and longer as they took their sweet time. Each second Mattheo felt more and more nervous, he didn't even know why he's so nervous. He didn't need them to like him. Okay, maybe he kinda did. You can't fault him for that.
He glanced sideways at Theodore, but Theodore's attention was all focused on the door. That kinda made Mattheo feel... it doesn't matter. Mattheo doesn't need to be hovered over by him.
Theodore was practically bouncing with excitement, Mattheo didn't wanna ruin that for him. He deserves to be happy without needing to be with him all the time. They can both be happy without each other, it's fine.
Mattheo felt a hollow feeling in his chest. He didn't know why, he isn't even sure there is a reason that isn't rational.
The chattering crept closer and closer. Repeated clanging of keys. A click.
The door opened.
Theodore practically jogged to the front door, the sight making Mattheo chuckle slightly.
There was a yelp of a deep voice, a women laughed, and Mattheo felt like if he ever had a real family, this is what it would be like. This is what it was supposed to be like. The feeling just grew wider in his chest.
"How was your trip?"
A men laughed. It weirdly reminded Mattheo of Tom. "It went great, Theo. Everything was smooth."
"Great, cause everything went as smooth as Apollo's life here."
"What?"
Theodore laughed. "Just kidding, even though you didn't get it. Anyways there's someone I want to introduce to you."
Yep. That was Mattheo's cue.
As Theodore entered the living room, his two parents trailing right behind him, Mattheo stood up. Probably too abruptly. Yeah. Well. Nothing he can do about it now.
"Uh, hi. Hullo." Mattheo attempted to smile, it just came out as an awkward expression. Good job. They're definitely letting him stay just for his awesome first impression. Uh huh.
"This is Mattheo, my best buddy. Mattheo, these are my parents, they give me free food and money." His parents just laughed at Theodore's way of choosing his words. Mattheo let out a stranded laugh, eyeing Theodore hard when his parents weren't looking.
"Yeah, that is our Theo, always speaking before a second thought." His mother patted his bicep.
"Yeah, hah, very funny, please don't let me keep you from laughing," Theodore deadpanned. Mattheo let out a chuckle, he slightly, just the tiniest bit, relaxed. "Oh, and also?" He turned to his parents.
"Mattheo is staying with us for a while. Won't be much trouble with you, right?"
His parents frowned.
"No, no, of course not," His mother said. "He is welcome as long as he likes, a friend of yours is no different than you."
"Kid," his father said to Mattheo, Mattheo may or may have Not flinched the slightest bit. And if Theodore's dad noticed, he didn't dwell on it.
"Make yourself at home."
...That was it?
Mattheo froze. There was more. There was always something more. This can't just be it.
"Yeah," his voice cracked slightly. "No worries about that."
They said nothing more. Theodore's parents headed upstairs at once. Theodore immediately pulled Mattheo aside as his parents disappeared.
"See? They won't care, you can stay here." Theodore whispered.
"Yeah, I just— wow," Mattheo blinked. "I mean, yeah, Um, I think I'm gonna stay for a, uh, a while." He nodded, as if conforming himself. This was really happening. He didn't have to go back. No one was gonna call CPS. He was safe. He can do this. He can start over.
He can start building up a new house of memory.
But.
But anytime he went by the old one, he remembered all his time there. The front door was always unlocked. Maybe that meant something, maybe it didn't.
But now he had a new house to focus on. New memories to make.
He is gonna enjoy it while he still could.
***
He was cold.
Theodore's parents went to bed early, exhausted from the hours long flight. Theodore himself stayed up a little late, whether to keep an eye on Mattheo or just to play video games, that he didn't know. Maybe both. Mattheo doesn't know, he doesn't know anything.
He doesn't know what's gonna happen, he doesn't know what to expect the next morning, he doesn't know if they will change their minds or not once they see him, truly see him. Not just a portion of him.
And the thought scares him.
Maybe if he were to be an optimistic person, he would say it's gonna go great. Maybe if he weren't so like him, he wouldn't be here now. Or maybe he would, because that's who he is. Who he'll always be. Maybe he was destined to disappoint everyone, maybe he already has and they just don't know it yet.
It was nearly three AM, and he was here. On the Balcony. A cigarette in his hand.
His head whirled at the thought of what Tom would say to him if he saw him now. Would he tell him he's proud, or would he tell him he's just like him? Would he tell him both? Is Mattheo really both? He is, isn't he? Otherwise he wouldn't be here.
He doesn't know what to think of anymore. He is tired.
Instead of going back inside, Mattheo stayed out in the freezing cold. He stopped shivering long ago, an over sensing rush of numb running in his veins, transferring from head to toe.
Instead of going back inside, Mattheo inhaled the cigarette.
He stared at it for a second, wondering if this was what Tom did instead of coming to his aid when Mattheo was begging and whispering apologies for something that wasn't even his fault. In that moment, Mattheo felt disgusted. He, in that moment, felt like him more than ever. And in a sense it makes sense; they were father and son. Mattheo can't escape him, not really. Not ever.
So, instead of going back inside, Mattheo pulled up his pajamas, pulling the cigarette out on his thigh, and holding back a scream as he did, before lightning another one.
Maybe if he didn't go to bed, he'd never have to wake up.
***
When Theodore came to wake him the next morning, he was already up.
But he could pretend for Theodore's sake. He owes him that much.
So, whenever he entered, Mattheo would smile and laugh and make jokes despite the hollow feeling slowly forging in him each time.
***
A week has passed.
So far, they haven't shown any sign that Mattheo is unwanted. (Maybe that's a good sign.)
Theodore's parents asked him all kinds of questions. Like what his favorite color was, what his favorite food was, favourite holiday, favorite show, if he liked spicy foods or not, favorite bands, favorite season, etc etc.
It was overwhelming. He's never had that many questions asked at him, and especially not by an adult.
He still wasn't sure he could trust them, but he felt more relaxed around them than anyone else. Well, besides Theodore. Although his parents come in an number two.
He was slowly filling the new memory house with new memories, new people he is starting to become fond of, new him. Well, not quite a new him. But a better version. As if he had been reborn here.
The happiest memories were with Theodore.
Somehow, in both his lives he was the happiest with him.
Well, for the most part. But still.
He still has nightmares fundamentally every other night. But three days ago it was really bad in particular. So bad that he couldn't even calm himself like he always had, and the thought of not calming down sounded so, so bad that he went to Theodore in the dead of the night. His knees were weak, he was grasping the walls for strength to stand up, his chest was rapidly falling and rising, he wasn't even cold yet he was shaking.
He didn't bother to knock, just straight up opened the door sharply and went in.
Theodore startled up at the abrupt motion. He blinked for a second before realizing what was happening.
He was by his side in a second, holding him so he wouldn't fall. He fell and Theodore went down with him.
Mattheo gripped Theodore's arm tightly, oblivious to the way Theodore winced as his nails dug into his skin, but he didn't say anything. He gasped for air, but it was like the world dissipated all the air for him.
Theodore whispered words of assuring in his ears, but Mattheo seemed to have gone dead. He couldn't hear it. He couldn't hear anything.
The room was dark, it reminded him of the closet. In the dark, it felt so close, like he was there.
You aren't there, you aren't there, you aren't there.
"The lights," Mattheo gasped. Theodore Seemed to realize what he meant because he made a move to turn it on, but Mattheo's grip on his arm was too strong.
"Mattheo," Theodore whispered. "You have to let me go, it'll only be for a second, I promise."
Although Mattheo didn't want to, he never wanted to let go, he still reluctantly loosened his grip. Theodore didn't hesitate to turn his back and turn the light on and back by his side in seconds.
Mattheo looked around for a second, the light blinding him for a moment.
He squinted his eyes, taking in the room. He wasn't there. He would never be there again. The thought distantly comforted him.
"Can you breathe now? Should I get you anything?" Theodore asks him quietly.
Mattheo shook his head, not trusting himself with speaking, because he is sure if he does his voice will break and he will panic again, and he isn't sure he can stop it a second time.
"Think you can stand up? Just to the bed and nowhere else." Theodore said.
Mattheo tentatively attempted to stand up, Theodore throwing an arm around his shoulder and hip as soon as Mattheo showed any signs of falling and led him to the bed slowly.
Mattheo let out a sigh of relief as he sat down. That was a long walk.
"Mattheo—" Theodore cut himself off, clearly debating something in his head. He spoke up again, this time more carefully.
"Mattheo, do you wanna stay here tonight? Just in case."
Mattheo stifled. That wasn't what he was gonna say and they both knew it.
Still.
"Can—"
He cleared his throat.
"Can I? Please." He whispered.
He doesn't know why he expected a rude retort, or a slap. He got a half side hug instead.
He flinched as the abrupt move, but it was Theodore.
He would never hurt him.
Mattheo completed the hug at once, throwing both his arms around Theodore and burying his head in his neck.
He swears he could've felt Theodore smile.
***
If Theodore's mom went to wake Theodore in the morning and saw her son and Mattheo curled up together, intertwined, she didn't say anything. She just closed the door and let them sleep in.
God knows they're gonna deserve it.
***
It was Theodore's eighteenth birthday Tomorrow.
Mattheo's own eighteenth Birthday was months away. Probably nine and half months away at most. He didn't even realize he's been staying there for that long. That's a good thing, right? He doesn't know.
But he's gonna make Theodore's eighteenth Birthday the best goddamn day he's ever seen. He deserves it. He saved Mattheo in so many ways so many time. He deserves to be saved too. What from, Mattheo doesn't know. But he would do anything for him, that he knows. It feels good to have a thing he's certain about in the midst of all that chaos.
When Theodore went to bed last night, Mattheo stayed up late with his parents to go over the Plan. Of course, they've been planning this for weeks, they're gonna make sure it's gonna go smoothly. They went over the things until he was certain he could recite it in his sleep.
He doesn't know how or when, but one day Mattheo started to see them as more than just adults. They somehow felt closer. He felt—what was the word? Safe with them?
Maybe. Just a little bit. Yeah. Definitely just a little bit. Hmmm.
He was still having nightmares, albeit not as frequently as before. Just... less intimidating nightmares.
Despite all, he was adjusting well. If he were an optimistic person, he'd say he's even started to improve. But he hasn't. He just got better as hiding it.
He doesn't even know what he's afraid of anymore. It was over. He got out and Tom... maybe somehow still hasn't noticed. Or maybe he has and just realized Mattheo isn't worth the effort.
Or maybe he has forgotten about his existence.
Somehow all those thoughts hurt.
He isn't sure why he still stays up late at night till Dawn, or why he sometimes still sleeps with the lights on, or why he flinches back whenever someone throws their arm over his shoulder. He knows he isn't there, but sometimes his brain doesn't. It's just so dumb, he never seems to just relax for one and he is so tired.
He is tired of constantly living in fear, despite being surrounded by nothing but love and affection, yet his brain perpetually tells him it's all a trick, that one day he'll wake up and it will all be like it was before. He knows it's not the same, yet he can't seem to help worry about them giving up on him the way Tom did. The first adults in his life he's viewed as anything other than someone he needs to protect himself from. It would be sad to lose them, he thinks. He would definitely mourn them.
It was like he's been living all his life in a dark place, constantly doing things blindly with only the moon providing light. And one day someone turns on the light, and Mattheo realizes just how much he's missed. All the things the moon's light didn't reach that he's just beginning to see now. All the things the sun didn't teach him, and despite having the moon, its light was never enough. He will always need the sun.
The light bulb on right now is enough. It will run out one day, but for now it's perfect. It cannot replace the sun, but he's not sure he is ready for that new wave of light. Not so soon. Please, just a little longer.
Mattheo and Theodore's parents go over the Birthday plan one more time before they all head to bed.
Mattheo made his way to his room—His room. It's now his room—And slipped under the covers.
He may have not turned the little light bulb by his bed off, but he slept the best he's had since he got here.
The next morning, in the early hours of dawn while the rest of the world slept, Mattheo woke up with a reason.
***
Mattheo knew that Theodore knew that they planned something. It was obvious from the way he was eyeing everyone on the breakfast table, yet they all ignored him. Oldest trick in the book.
Theodore was cautiously eating his breakfast as if it was cereal dipped in water instead of milk.
Mr. And Mrs. Nott we're discussing some business related shit so Mattheo didn't bother to try and engage in the conversation.
Theodore was still suspiciously eyeing everyone, which left Mattheo alone with his head.
He slowly debated all the different ways his attempt at stalling Theodore for a few hours can go wrong. I mean, they could get hit by a car or something. Definitely not an exact memorable eighteenth Birthday surprise. Not cool.
It would be quite funny though.
Theodore didn't indicate anything the entire while they ate which Mattheo was grateful for, although he did look quite disappointed.
Mattheo finished his breakfast, thanked Mr and Mrs Nott, washed his plate, and immediately bolted for his room.
He closed the door and walked over to his bed. He just sat down for a moment, debating on ways to convince the already skeptical Theodore to get out of the house with him for a few hours. He thought of all the different ideas as he changed into a sweater and a pair of black jeans.
Maybe they could go around the Mall for a day out? Mattheo felt so bad to have to ask them for money, so subsequently around two months ago he got a... job. Yeah. He didn't want to burden them any further, they've already done so much for him.
He waited around another half an hour before deciding 'fuck it' and headed to Theodore's bedroom. He entered the room without bothering to knock. Theodore startled at the abrupt motion.
"Care to knock next time?" Theodore panted.
"No. I don't give a single shit, let alone two." Mattheo said, expression neutral. Theodore stared at him for approximately seven seconds before he chuckled slightly. Mattheo broke his own expression at that. It always worked on Theodore. Or maybe he's just that funny.
"C'mon, hurry up and change," Mattheo hurled him up. Or rather, tried.
"We're going out." He grunted.
Theodore eyed him at that. He didn't even budge. Dumbass. Daring to embarrass Mattheo like that.
"Where to? Cause I'm not exactly in the mood." Theodore said sternly.
"It wouldn't exactly be a surprise if I told you now, would it?" Mattheo grinned as Theodore perked up at that, Suddenly very interested. "Use that thick skull and small brain of yours, Nott." He said.
"Okay," Theodore said slowly, closely observing his expression. Mattheo gave away nothing. "But I'm only agreeing cause I'm bored, not cause of a 'surprise' or something, that would be stupid." He brushed him aside, heading for the closet.
"And childish." He added.
"Yep. Definitely childish." Mattheo agreed. It was incredulous, but the more Theodore is cooperating, the less Mattheo has to worry about his anxiety sending him into a cardiac arrest.
Theodore came out like ten minutes later (knowing him five of which was spent panicking). He was wearing pants, albeit not fancy but still fucking nice, and a dark blue sweater. Mattheo didn't pat it much attention, Theodore could still look breathtaking in the simplest of clothes. (No he's not a simp, Theo is just that good looking, okay?)
"Let's go, don't wanna be late now, do we?"
Theodore groaned let himself be dragged out by Mattheo.
***
They were at the Mall.
It wasn't the ideal plan for a Birthday, but hey! It was just a distraction. Or, well, rather not. Mattheo was actually looking up to spend some time with Theodore. Alone. Without adult supervision.
Well. Technically Theodore is an adult now.
Damn. Mattheo was hanging out with an adult. Ew. But jokingly, you know? He absolutely adored Theodore.
He is gonna make this day the best goddamn day for him.
But right now? Right now he needed a cold drink.
He immediately walked to an ice cream shop, hand gripping Theodore's. It felt far more pleasant than it should feel. (Cold hand grippig a warm one; by nature, they are not meant to coexist within the same range.)
"Really?" Theodore looks at him. "It's my Birthday and the first thing you wanna do is get an ice cream?"
"Listen," Mattheo sat down in one of the seats, "I am a man of many things, many, many great things," he paused. "But if I don't get a cold drink right this moment, I will drop dead. And very dramatically might I add."
"Yeah, right," Theodore rolled his eyes. "A men needs his cold drink. Of course he does."
"Thank you, cause if I don't, I WILL actually make a scene."
"Shameless."
"It wasn't in the Threads of my destiny, but since I have come to tolerate you, it seems like your shamelessness has wrapped itself in my fate."
"I doubt it's like that, more like you needed an excuse to let out your beast." Well, that Mattheo cannot deny.
He relax into the seat, shrugging a "maybe or maybe not" type of shrug at Theodore.
The ice cream lady or whatever her job is came over to take their order.
"I'll take a Slushy."
Theodore stared at him so intensely that Mattheo was sure his eyeballs are gonna pop out any second.
"I'll take the same." Theodore said, deadpan expression still focused on Mattheo.
The lady left to get their order.
Mattheo shifted in his seat, the look making him feel uneasy before deciding 'fuck it' and staring right back at Theodore.
Neither of them blinked for approximately twenty seconds before Theodore gave up.
Mattheo slowly brushed the nonexistent dust off his shoulders, chin high, as he looked back at Theodore with a knowing look.
Theodore gave him an incredulous look before silently pulling his wallet out and handing Mattheo a twenty buck. (An ongoing bet that started out as a joke.)
"A men knows how to make profit." Mattheo explained simply as he took the money.
"A men knows how to— I swear to god—"
"Quote, 'A men knows how to make profit.' Tuesday, ten and forty five PM, the thirty of January. " Mattheo grinned.
Theodore took a deep breath, calming himself. He sure looked ready to jump Mattheo and slowly rip his skin off. Looks like he isn't immune to his adult impulse to hit a minor. Totally not talking about another adult just like that who happened to traumatize Mattheo.
Mattheo doesn't blame him. If it were him, he would've been hiding from the government by now. Probably calling Alphard to get him out of country, Move to Yemen or something. (Spn s2 ref)
Huh. Maybe he should call Alphard later. To catch up and shit. He hasn't seen the man in years, he isn't sure he even remembers his phone number correctly. (He does, he's just sentimental like that.)
The lady came back and handed them both their Slushy's. They both thanked her and took it.
They (ehm, Mattheo) paid and left to roam around.
"So what do you wanna do now that you're eighteen?" Mattheo asked him, eyeing the stores as they pass by.
"Definitely not pay tax." Theodore immediately replied.
"I don't know, you're an adult and all now," Mattheo raises his eyebrow, "You better do as I say or I might accidentally get you arrested or something."
Theodore gave him a fake horrified look, "I might need to start packing then." He said sarcastically.
"No, give me all your money,"
"No, you give me all your money,"
"Are you trying to rob me, Theo?"
"What, no—"
"I can get you arrested for that, you know right?"
"I am not trying to rob you, what the fuck?"
"No, no. I'm technically still a minor and you are an adult. You know, I expected something better from you for your eighteenth."
"Don't get all sophisticated now, you shit, before I bail on you."
"So you're saying you're gonna kick me out? Tsk, tsk, tsk. What would your parents think about their little Theo?" Mattheo cried dramatically.
"If you keep this up you better start thinking of ways you can get out of country as soon as possible." Theodore glared at him.
"No, no. I have my connections."
He did not have any connections.
"Then I will find them and obliterate them before you get a chance to connect with them." Theodore says simply. Mattheo gave him a horrified look. Maybe not a fake one, since technically Theodore could do that.
(Maybe, maybe the thought that he can find Mattheo no matter where he is comforts him a little bit. But not in a creepy way.)
"You know, you scare me sometimes, Nott. Don't be like that. Never develop into anything more than my idiot."
Theodore laughed with a confused expression on his face.
My idiot?
Mattheo wheezed quietly at his expression which only made Theodore laugh harder which made him laugh harder.
Listen, it was complicated, alright?
From there they walked around this they found a clothe store they were both satisfied with.
(it took a whole ten minutes of pleading until Theodore gave in.
"C'mon, please? I want to buy you something I made with my own well earned money. Are you gonna deny us both that? Don't be cruel, Theodore.")
Mattheo walked in, Theodore trailing behind him looking like he'd rather be anywhere else than there. He immediately bolted for the Sunglass section. Theodore gave a horrifying expression to no one in particular behind him as he slowly followed him to their fate (of getting kicked out).
Mattheo looked around for five seconds approximately before his eyes landed on the most perfect glasses. He immediately pulled at them, in the mirror he could see Theodore slowly shaking his head and fastly walking to hide in the Clothes section.
"Come on! I could've picked something worse!" Mattheo groaned.
He distantly heard Theodore yell 'no!' to his right.
Well. At least he now knew where to start searching.
***
If you asked Mattheo how they got kicked out of the Clothes store, he would swear on his dead mother that he did not know. However, If you asked Theodore how they got kicked out of the Clothe store, he would tell you a different story. A story Mattheo would swear never happened, but who is gonna correct him? An adult?
It was now five minutes spent in silence since they got kicked out, which Mattheo still does not know how, and oh, oh Theodore was furious (which Mattheo wouldn't know how. It wasn't like he got them kicked out)(he did).
The gods were not on Mattheo's side today. He didn't even dare to risk a glance at him in fear of bursting out in laughter.
But oh well he got curious, a dangerous habit of his still.
He sneaked a glance at Theodore, which he then immediately retreated.
He let out a shaky exhale. Next to him, Theodore was dead pan staring at him with eyebrows raised higher than his current dignity, of which he had none left.
Mattheo burst out laughing.
"You know, I am usually very easy to get laughing, but this is not funny." Theodore said, to which Mattheo was wheezing to like a kettle. Really, Theo was right. It wasn't funny, it was very funny.
"It's not! Stop laughing." Theodore demanded.
"You're right, I should fucking stop." Mattheo said, or rather tried to say. In between his breathless laughter it came out something close to;
"Youreright--I--should--hahhaahaaha--stop--hahaha..."
He feared if he stopped clutching his stomach, his intestines might burst out from how much he was laughing. Wouldn't be the most pleasant scenery, but definitely a memorable one.
"If you don't stop, I will ditch you, but before that I would pick pocket you, then disown you, then take a cab to see the new Moana movie without you." But really, Mattheo could see how the heat left Theodore with each word only to be replaced by probably a sudden urge telling him to also laugh.
"But like, you should've seen your face,"Mattheo managed to get out. "It was like you were debating between letting your dignity take a hit for once or calling your Dad, who by the way fucking owns that clothes store." Mattheo knew Theodore would not, in a thousand years, let his father be in such a predicament. Which was the sole reason he chose that store to cause havoc within.
Mr.Nott, you have been one of his biggest supporters, but today is Theodore's birthday! You can let a prank or two like this slide by! y'know, turn a blind eye to it!
Mattheo felt kind of bad, but he was certain Mr.Nott won't say anything on his son's birthday. Right?
"Oh, Theodore." Mattheo slipped his arm around Theo's neck in a non-intimate way, but it was kind of hard considering the history the two share late at night under the cover of their blankets, hidden away from the rest of the world even if it's for a few hours. It's the only time of the day where Mattheo is sure he isn't going crazy. "If we hadn't just got kicked out, I would've gone back and asked them for that footage."
He didn't need the store to do any type of kicking to him, because a second later Theodore kicked him.
(more like elbowed him, but who will you believe? The very innocent minor, or the suspiciously weird--new--adult?)
***
Miles away, two shot guns rang out.