Chapter Text
It had been two months since Matt and Chris had been Matched, and the entire dynamic of their household had crumbled into something unrecognizable. Everything—everything—had shifted. The warmth, the easiness, the closeness that used to define Matt and Chris’s relationship was gone, leaving only an aching silence in its wake.
They could barely look at each other now. Conversations were reduced to clipped, obligatory exchanges, words spoken only when absolutely necessary. Moments alone together felt suffocating, heavy with unspoken tension neither of them knew how to address. It was as though the foundation they had always relied on—the bond that had made them inseparable for years—was splintered beyond repair.
It was killing them both.
The two of them had even stopped sharing a bed, a habit that had brought them comfort for so long it felt second nature. It wasn’t until Chris lay awake alone for night after sleepless night that he realized just how much he’d come to depend on Matt’s presence to sleep. He had always told himself it was for Matt—that Matt needed him, that he was only keeping the nightmares away. But maybe that had been a lie. Maybe he needed Matt just as much, if not more.
And Matt? Matt didn’t fare any better. Sleeping alone wasn’t an option for him, not anymore. His bed—untouched for three years—might as well have been a stranger. The thought of lying there, alone, knowing Chris was just feet away but no longer his to turn to, made his chest ache. So, he found refuge in Justin’s room.
Justin hadn’t been thrilled about the arrangement. The 22-year-old valued his space, his quiet, his independence. But he wasn’t blind. He could see how broken Matt was, how the absence of Chris left him fragile and restless. He loved his little brother enough to bite his tongue and let him stay, even if it meant giving up his own comfort. Most nights, Justin would begrudgingly wrap an arm around Matt, allowing him the physical reassurance he clearly craved, all while silently wishing his brothers could just fix whatever this was.
Because it wasn’t supposed to be this way.
Chris, meanwhile, had taken to sleeping in Nick’s bed. Nick wasn’t exactly thrilled about it either, especially when Chris showed up for the third night in a row and wordlessly claimed half of his twin mattress. But Nick knew Chris was struggling—they all were—so he tolerated it.
Unlike with Matt, though, Chris couldn’t bring himself to close the gap between them. The two brothers lay on opposite sides of the bed, stiff and silent, with enough space between them to make their discomfort clear. Chris couldn’t curl up to Nick the way he had with Matt. There was no natural rhythm, no sense of safety. It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t even close.
What made it worse—what all of them knew, but none dared say aloud—was that Chris and Matt needed each other. They always had. Matt had leaned on Chris for as long as anyone could remember, but it went both ways. Chris’s protective nature wasn’t just a role he’d fallen into; it was a core part of him. Caring for Matt, holding him, anchoring him—that was how Chris had always kept himself steady, too.
But now, the rules were different. Everything was different. And neither of them knew how to navigate it. The fact that they had been Matched—legally bound as Dominant and Submissive, no longer just brothers but something they couldn’t even name—had created a rift so deep it felt insurmountable.
None of them—not Chris, not Matt, not Nick, not Justin—had been prepared for this. And now, two months later, they were all just stumbling through the aftermath, holding their breath and hoping they’d figure it out before it destroyed them completely.
Justin remembered the day Matt and Chris were Matched like it had just happened yesterday. The memory haunted him, sharp and vivid, like an open wound. He’d been at a friend’s house when his phone buzzed with a call from his mother, her voice trembling with panic and heartbreak.
“Justin, it’s happened,” Marylou had sobbed, barely able to get the words out. “Matt’s been Matched. Oh God, he’s been Matched.”
The phone nearly slipped from his hand as the weight of her words sank in. Matt. Matched. The day they had all been dreading, the day they had prayed would never come, was finally here.
“I’m on my way,” Justin stammered, his voice cracking. He barely registered what excuse he mumbled to his friends before grabbing his keys and bolting to his car. His hands shook as he gripped the steering wheel, speeding through the streets, his mind racing even faster.
When he arrived at the DDSMS office, he stumbled into the waiting room, scanning the area until he saw them: his mom, Nick, and Jimmy, all sitting together. He hurried over, and Marylou immediately rose to meet him, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.
“Oh, Justin! My poor boy’s been Matched!” she wailed, her voice cracking as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
Justin froze for a moment, unsure how to comfort her. He glanced over her shoulder at Jimmy and Nick. Jimmy sat with his elbows resting on his knees, his face buried in his hands, while Nick’s leg bounced nervously, his expression unreadable but his tear-streaked face giving away his distress.
“Wait,” Justin said, his heart pounding as a new wave of panic hit him. “Where’s Chris? He should be here.”
Marylou pulled back just enough to look up at him, her face crumpling further. “Oh, Justin,” she sobbed, shaking her head. “Chris… he’s been Matched too. Both of them—on the same day!”
Justin’s stomach dropped. “What?” he whispered, the words catching in his throat. Chris too? The shock was almost too much to process. He glanced over at Jimmy, whose silent tears ran down his face as he gave Justin a solemn nod of confirmation.
Two sons. Matched. On the same day.
Justin’s heart broke for his mother, for all of them. He tried to think of something comforting to say, something to make her feel even a little better, but the words wouldn’t come. “I’m sure it’ll… it’ll be okay, Mom,” he finally said, his voice faltering. “I know it’s hard, but just try to stay positive, okay?”
Marylou sniffled, wiping her eyes as she nodded, though the despair in her expression didn’t ease. She returned to her seat next to Jimmy, clasping his hand for support. Justin sighed and sat down next to Nick, whose bouncing leg hadn’t stopped since Justin arrived.
“Hey, Nicky,” Justin said softly, draping an arm over his younger brother’s shoulders. “You holding up okay?”
Nick shrugged, refusing to meet Justin’s eyes. His hands fidgeted restlessly, his face pale and tight with tension. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
Justin pulled him closer, squeezing his shoulder in silent reassurance. He could feel how tense Nick was, like a spring about to snap. Nick wasn’t just worried about Chris and Matt—he was scared for himself, too. What if his turn was next?
The four of them sat there in the waiting room for what felt like hours. None of them spoke, each lost in their own swirling thoughts. Marylou occasionally dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, her quiet sniffles the only sound breaking the oppressive silence. Jimmy stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked like it might crack. Justin kept his arm around Nick, even as his own nerves buzzed under his skin.
This was supposed to be the system protecting their boys. But it felt more like a nightmare no one could wake up from.
Nick had been the first to spot Matt and Chris walking toward them. His heart leapt at the sight of his brothers, but the relief quickly turned to worry when he noticed their expressions—or rather, their lack of them. They looked hollow, like shadows of themselves.
“Matt!” Nick called out, rushing to meet them. He wrapped both boys in a tight hug, desperate to comfort them. But they didn’t hug back. They just stood there, stiff and lifeless, like statues.
“Oh my god, boys! Are you okay? What happened? Where are they?” Marylou’s voice was a frantic mixture of concern and panic as she hurried to join Nick. She threw her arms around Matt and Chris, pulling them into another hug, but neither reciprocated.
“Matty?” Jimmy’s voice was soft, almost pleading, as he stepped closer. He searched their faces, desperate for any kind of response.
But neither Matt nor Chris could bring themselves to answer. Words failed them, the weight of the truth pressing down like a suffocating blanket. They felt disgusting. Wrong. Broken. Their eyes remained fixed on the floor, avoiding everyone.
“What happened? Talk to us!” Nick’s voice was louder now, edged with frustration. The silence was unbearable.
Chris finally looked up, his face pale, his eyes glassy. “Um, well, we, uh…” he stammered, but the words caught in his throat, refusing to come out. He looked down again, defeated.
Marylou stepped forward, her voice more serious now. “Boys, what happened? You need to tell us.”
Nick huffed in exasperation. “Fuck this,” he muttered, stepping toward Matt. Without warning, he reached out and grabbed the collar around Matt’s neck, tugging it slightly to read the tag.
Matt’s hand shot up, trying to pull away, but he was too slow. Nick’s eyes landed on the small silver tag, and his face twisted in shock.
Matthew Sturniolo
Property of Christopher Sturniolo
678-999-8212
“Nicolas, don’t do that!” Marylou scolded sharply, but the damage was already done.
“No way. This has to be a joke,” Nick said, his voice filled with disbelief. He looked back and forth between Matt and Chris, searching for some sign that this wasn’t real. “You’re joking, right? I mean, there’s just no way this is real.”
But the way Matt flinched, the way Chris’s face burned red with shame—it was all the confirmation Nick needed.
“Oh my god,” Nick breathed, stepping back like the collar tag had physically struck him. “You’re serious? No. No, that can’t be right. This is—this is wrong.”
Chris and Matt exchanged a brief, terrified glance before looking away from each other, their expressions filled with pain.
“What is it, Nick? What’s wrong?” Marylou pressed, her voice trembling. She didn’t like how Nick had yanked at Matt’s collar, but she was desperate for answers. Matt and Chris hadn’t said anything substantial since they arrived, and her worry was eating her alive.
Nick took another step back, his breaths quick and shallow as the words stuck in his throat. The realization churned in his stomach, making him feel physically ill. His brothers. The two people he’d shared a womb with for nine months. Matched. Together. It was unthinkable.
“Nick!” Marylou snapped, her voice louder now. “Tell us what’s going on!”
“It’s them!” Nick finally yelled, his voice cracking. “They’re Matched! Matt and Chris. The two of them. TOGETHER!”
The room went still. Marylou’s hand flew to her mouth as she staggered back, her knees threatening to buckle. Jimmy’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide in disbelief. Justin’s face twisted in confusion and shock.
“No,” Marylou whispered, shaking her head. “That can’t be right. Nick, you must have read it wrong. That— That doesn’t make sense.”
“Woah, woah, Nick, calm down,” Justin said, stepping forward in an attempt to diffuse the situation.
“Calm down?” Nick’s voice rose again, trembling with anger and disbelief. “You want me to calm down? Those two have just been Matched together, and you want me to CALM DOWN? This is insane! I need to get some air!” He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
The room was silent except for the soft sound of Matt’s sniffles. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he kept his head down, unable to look at his parents or Justin. The shame was overwhelming, suffocating. Chris wasn’t doing much better—he sat frozen, his face buried in his hands, his deep breaths shaky and uneven. He couldn’t look up, couldn’t face the horrified expressions of his family.
“Chris?… Matt?” Marylou’s voice trembled, her words barely audible. She didn’t want to believe what Nick had just yelled. Surely, he had misunderstood, or this was some cruel mistake. But the boys’ silence was deafening. Their bowed heads, their rigid posture—it was all written on their faces. Nick wasn’t joking, and she knew it deep down.
Still, she needed confirmation. Her mother’s heart wouldn’t let her rest without seeing it for herself. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she stepped closer to Matt.
“Matt, baby…” she whispered, reaching out with a shaking hand. She cupped his tear-streaked face, gently tilting it up to meet her gaze. The pain and shame in his eyes made her breath hitch.
Her other hand moved hesitantly to the silver tag hanging from his collar. She didn’t want to do this—she dreaded what she might see—but she had to. With a slow, deliberate motion, she flipped the tag to read the back. Her eyes scanned the engraved words, and her heart shattered.
Matthew Sturniolo
Property of Christopher Sturniolo
678-999-8212
Marylou stared at the tag, her vision blurring with tears. She looked back into Matt’s anguished eyes, unable to hold her own emotions back any longer. Closing her eyes, she took a shaky breath before stepping away. Her hand flew to her mouth as a sob escaped her.
The reality of it all hit her like a freight train. Her two sons. Matched. Legally bound in a way that violated every natural instinct she had as their mother. On one hand, a twisted sense of relief tried to surface—Matt wasn’t being taken away from their family, from their protection. But the other side of it? The sheer horror of her boys being forced into this relationship was unbearable.
She stumbled backward, staring at Chris and Matt as if seeing them for the first time. Their pain was obvious—Matt’s quiet sobs, Chris’s barely concealed shame. She wanted to comfort them, but the weight of it all was suffocating. It wasn’t their fault, and she knew that, but she couldn’t bring herself to stand by them at that moment. She needed air. She needed time to process this. Without another word, she turned and dashed outside, tears streaming down her face.
Jimmy watched her leave, her sudden exit confirming what he feared: Nick hadn’t been lying. This was real. Matt and Chris had truly been Matched. He looked back at his boys, their devastation palpable.
His mind raced, replaying memories of Chris and Matt’s bond over the years. It had always been different, stronger than any sibling connection he’d ever known. As a twin himself, he understood sibling bonds, but Chris and Matt’s had always gone beyond that. They were inseparable, deeply attuned to each other’s needs in a way he and Bernard had never been.
But this? This was something else entirely.
Jimmy took a deep breath, forcing himself to push through the discomfort. Whatever he was feeling didn’t matter. What mattered were his boys—his two devastated sons who clearly hadn’t asked for any of this. His heart ached as he looked at Matt, tears streaming down his face, trembling under the weight of his emotions.
“Matty, it’s okay,” Jimmy said softly, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside him. He stepped forward and pulled Matt into a hug, holding him tightly. “We’ll figure this out, okay? You’re going to be okay.”
Matt clung to him, his sobs muffled against Jimmy’s chest. Jimmy’s eyes shifted to Chris, who was trying—and failing—to keep his composure. Silent tears streamed down his face as he stood frozen, too ashamed to meet anyone’s gaze. Jimmy opened his other arm.
“Come here, Chris,” he said gently. “It’s okay. I’ve got you too.”
Chris hesitated for a moment before stepping into the embrace. Jimmy wrapped his arms around both boys, holding them as tightly as he could. “You’re both going to be okay,” he whispered. “We’ll work this out. I promise.”
Justin stood off to the side, feeling like he was trapped in some twisted nightmare. The sight of his brothers breaking down in their father’s arms made his chest ache.
How could this be real? How much more could life throw at them? First the DDSMS appointments, then the Matching—and now this? Forced into a relationship neither of them had chosen, trapped by a system that didn’t care about their humanity. When would it end?
He swallowed hard, his throat tightening as he watched his father whisper reassurances to the boys. Justin’s heart broke for them. Matt had always needed Chris. And Chris? Well, he’d always needed Matt too, even if he didn’t realize it. This would shatter everything they’d ever been to each other, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair at all.
When both boys fell silent again, Jimmy wasted no time ushering them out of the building. The air outside was sharp and cold, a stark contrast to the suffocating stillness of the DDSMS office. He placed a hand on each of their backs, guiding them gently but firmly. No one spoke as they descended the steps—Matt and Chris trailing behind like lost sheep, the weight of everything they had been through pressing down on their shoulders.
“Where did you park, Justin?” Jimmy finally asked, his voice too light, like he was trying to cut through the thick, awkward silence. He glanced at his oldest son for an answer, desperate for anything to fill the void.
“Oh, just over here,” Justin said, pointing to the right.
It was then that Matt, wordlessly, reached out and grabbed onto Justin’s arm. His hand was trembling slightly, fingers curling tightly into the fabric of Justin’s jacket as if holding on would anchor him.
Justin paused, immediately understanding. He looked down at Matt with a gentle, knowing expression. “What’s up? You want to come with me?” he asked softly, his voice low enough not to draw unnecessary attention.
Matt nodded, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up for long. “Please,” he murmured, his voice barely audible, the sound of it almost swallowed by the wind.
He couldn’t explain it, didn’t have the words to articulate what he felt. He just knew he couldn’t sit in a car with everyone else—especially not Chris. Not now. Justin, at least, wouldn’t try to talk. He wouldn’t press Matt to “open up” or force awkward small talk. Justin understood silence in a way no one else did, and that’s what Matt needed right now. Silence. Solitude. Anything to dull the suffocating noise in his own head.
“That’s fine by me,” Justin said, smiling softly, though his heart ached as he looked at the boy clinging to him. He glanced at Jimmy and Chris for approval, fully aware of the new rules they were supposed to follow now.
Jimmy shifted uncomfortably, his brows furrowing as he turned to Chris. Matt’s request—simple as it was—was now something Chris had to approve. The entire dynamic had shifted, and it was moments like these that drove that reality home. Matt wasn’t allowed to decide anymore.
“…Chris?” Jimmy asked carefully, his tone deliberate, like he was trying to cushion the blow. “Would it be okay if Matt went home with Justin?”
The question hung in the air, heavy and unnatural.
Chris blinked, the words barely registering at first. “Hmm? Yeah?” he replied absently, still lost in his own thoughts.
Jimmy sighed and tried again. “Would it be okay if Matt went with Justin?” He hated saying it—hated what it meant, what it symbolized. This wasn’t how families were supposed to function.
Chris’s brows furrowed, and then his expression shifted as understanding set in. His gaze flickered to Matt, who was still gripping Justin like a lifeline, and then to his father. It hit him like a punch to the gut.
He has to ask me for permission.
The thought made his stomach churn. He didn’t want this. He didn’t ask for this.
“What—yeah, I don’t care. Of course, he can go with Justin,” Chris mumbled, his voice hollow. He said the words quickly, like he wanted them out of his mouth as soon as possible. His heart sank when he saw Matt’s face—expressionless, unreadable, as though the world had finally broken him.
Matt’s eyes met his for a fleeting moment. Chris felt that look like a slap across the face.
This really is my life now, Matt thought bitterly. I have to ask Chris for everything. Permission to see my family. Permission to breathe.
The weight of it crushed him. He looked away, his hand still clutching Justin’s sleeve as though letting go would send him spiraling.
Chris watched him for a second longer, trying to find words that didn’t exist. What was he supposed to say? That it would be okay? That this wasn’t as bad as it seemed? He couldn’t lie like that—not to Matt, not to himself.
This is so fucked up, Chris thought, his throat tightening. He wanted to scream it to the sky. How had it come to this? How had they—the closest two people in the world—been reduced to this strange, fractured mess?
Chris hated the distance between them, the invisible wall that had been erected the moment that collar fastened around Matt’s neck. A wall that neither of them had built but were now trapped behind.
Justin gave Chris a look—a mix of sympathy and something that Chris couldn’t quite place. He pulled Matt gently toward the car, his movements careful, like he was handling fragile glass.
“Come on, Matty,” Justin said softly.
Matt didn’t say another word. He just went, letting Justin lead him away.
Chris watched them go, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until his father placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Come on, son,” Jimmy said, his voice low and heavy. “Let’s go home.”
Chris nodded, numbly, and started walking. But as he moved, he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his chest—that he and Matt had just stepped into an entirely new life, one they would never escape from.
And for the first time in his life, Chris didn’t know if he could fix it.
Things at home had been unbearably tense after the Match.
Marylou had shut herself away in her bedroom for three days, unable to look at Matt or Chris without breaking down into tears. She knew her boys needed her, especially now, but every time she saw the collar around Matt’s neck—or Chris’s hollow, guilty expression—she felt like she might shatter all over again.
She felt like a terrible mother. She should have been the one holding her family together, but instead, she’d crumbled. Jimmy had been the one to finally pull her out of her haze. He had sat on the edge of the bed, holding her hand in his rough, steady grip, and softly reminded her of the truth she was trying so hard to push away.
“Marylou,” he said gently, “this isn’t about us. It’s not even about how hard it is for us to see them like this. Can you imagine how much harder it is for them? For our boys?”
His words cut through the fog, forcing her to face reality. It wasn’t about her grief or her confusion. It was about Matt and Chris. They needed her more now than they ever had before, and she couldn’t leave them to navigate this alone. She had to be their mother—their rock—even if it killed her inside to see them like this.
When she finally emerged from the bedroom, she learned the full extent of how badly things had fallen apart. Matt and Chris weren’t speaking. Her boys, who had been inseparable their entire lives, now avoided each other like the plague. They couldn’t stand to be in the same room for more than a few minutes, and that silence—it was deafening.
She knew she had to step up, to pull her family back together, because if she didn’t, no one would.
Nick had packed a bag and disappeared to Chloe’s house for a few days. He hadn’t said much when he left—just a quiet “I need some time to think.” No one stopped him. They all understood, even if they didn’t say it out loud.
Nick knew he’d been harsh on his brothers, and he hated himself for it. None of this was their fault. They hadn’t asked for any of it. But seeing Chris and Matt—their roles as Dominant and Submissive now laid out in the open—had been too much for him to handle.
For as long as Nick could remember, Matt and Chris had always been MattandChris. It wasn’t their fault, but it had been hard growing up alongside them. They were two halves of the same soul, sharing a bond that he had never been part of. Even as a triplet, he’d always felt like the outsider.
When they’d been Matched, it felt like that truth had been cemented forever. He wasn’t angry at them—not really—but he needed space to process it. The two people who were supposed to be his brothers, his equals, were now locked into a dynamic that he couldn’t begin to understand. The world had flipped upside down, and Nick didn’t know how to find his footing.
Still, deep down, something had shifted in him. Seeing his brothers thrown into this situation made him wonder—maybe he could talk to them. Maybe Chris and Matt, of all people, would understand what it was like to feel different. To feel othered. He didn’t know if he was ready, but maybe the time was coming.
Jimmy had been the one holding everything together—or trying to. He was doing his best to be the calm in the storm, but it wasn’t easy.
Matt had withdrawn entirely. He had holed himself up in Justin’s room and refused to come out. Jimmy would bring him food, gently knock on the door, and try to coax him into a conversation, but Matt never said much. Most days, Jimmy would find him curled up in Justin’s bed, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, staring blankly at the wall. It broke Jimmy’s heart every single time.
Justin did what he could when he was home, keeping an eye on Matt and sitting with him when the silence got too heavy. But Justin wasn’t always there, and the truth was, Matt spent most of his time alone.
Jimmy tried to keep the family functional—talking to Marylou, checking in with Chris, and even reaching out to Nick—but he felt stretched thin. Chris wasn’t faring much better than Matt, though he was better at hiding it. Chris didn’t talk much anymore. He spent most of his time with Nick or locked in his own thoughts, and Jimmy could see the weight of guilt hanging over him.
The once-warm and vibrant home felt cold now, like it had been drained of all its light. Everyone walked on eggshells, afraid to say or do the wrong thing. The laughter, the teasing, the connection—it was all gone.
No one knew how to fix it. No one even knew where to start.
The house was eerily quiet as Marylou and Jimmy climbed the stairs to the boys' room. It had been five days since the Match, and the tension in the house was suffocating. No one knew how to navigate this new reality.
Marylou didn’t want to have this conversation. Jimmy didn’t either, but they both knew it had to happen. Legally, Matt wasn’t their son anymore—not in the way he had been. He was Chris’s property now. The words made Marylou’s stomach churn, and she had to stop halfway up the stairs to take a deep breath.
“You okay?” Jimmy asked gently, resting a hand on her back.
She nodded, though her heart felt like it was breaking all over again. “No, but let’s just get this over with.”
Jimmy squeezed her shoulder, and together they continued up the stairs.
When they reached the boys' room, the door was ajar. They knocked softly, pushing it open to find Chris sitting on the edge of his bed, staring down at his hands. He looked exhausted. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his posture was slouched in a way that made him look far older than fifteen.
“Chris?” Marylou said hesitantly, stepping inside.
He looked up at them, his expression wary. “Hey.”
Jimmy shut the door behind them, and they both sat down on Nick’s empty bed across from Chris. The air in the room was heavy with unspoken words, and Chris seemed to sense that this wasn’t just a casual check-in.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his voice quiet.
Marylou glanced at Jimmy, silently pleading with him to start. He nodded, taking a deep breath before speaking.
“Chris… we need to talk about Matt.”
Chris stiffened instantly, his jaw tightening. “What about him?”
Jimmy ran a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable. “Legally speaking, Matt is… he’s yours now. You’re his Dominant, his owner. That changes things, Chris. It changes our role as his parents.”
Chris’s eyes widened slightly, panic flashing across his face. “What are you saying?”
Marylou leaned forward, trying to keep her tone gentle despite the weight of her words. “What your father is saying, sweetheart, is that we don’t have any legal authority over Matt anymore. That responsibility falls to you now. And as much as it pains us to have to say this, we need to know… what rules you’re planning to enforce with him.”
Chris stared at her, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the right words. “I— I don’t have any rules. I don’t even know what that means. He’s still Matt. He’s still my brother.”
“We know, Chris,” Jimmy said softly. “But legally, he’s not. He’s your Submissive now, and that comes with responsibilities. Whether we like it or not, you have the final say in everything he does—what he wears, where he goes, if he continues school… everything.”
Chris’s face paled. “I don’t want that kind of control over him. I didn’t ask for this.”
“We know you didn’t, son,” Jimmy said, his voice steady. “But this is the reality we’re in now. And if we don’t figure this out, it’s only going to get messier. Matt needs structure, Chris. He needs to know where he stands, and so do we.”
Chris rubbed his hands over his face, groaning in frustration. “This is so messed up. I don’t want to make rules for him. I don’t want to… own him.”
Marylou reached out, resting a hand on his knee. “Chris, listen to me. You’re not going to hurt him by setting boundaries. He needs to feel safe, and part of that means knowing what’s expected of him. You love him, don’t you?”
“Of course I do!” Chris snapped, his voice cracking.
“Then show him that love by giving him a framework to work within,” Marylou said gently. “We’re not saying you need to dictate every part of his life, but he needs to know what’s okay and what’s not. And so do we.”
Chris was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on the floor. Finally, he nodded, though his movements were stiff. “Fine. I’ll… I’ll try.”
Jimmy leaned forward. “Good. Let’s start simple. Does Matt need to ask for permission to leave the house? Or is he free to come and go as he pleases?”
Chris’s stomach twisted at the question. It felt wrong—unnatural—to even consider controlling Matt like that. But he knew his parents were right. If he didn’t set some kind of precedent now, it would only cause more confusion later.
“He… he should let me know if he’s going somewhere,” Chris said reluctantly. “Not because I want to control him, but… just so I know he’s safe.”
Marylou nodded. “That’s fair. What about school? Are you okay with him continuing?”
“Yes, of course,” Chris said quickly. “He’s already struggling enough. Taking school away from him would just make things worse.”
“And chores?” Jimmy asked.
Chris hesitated. “I don’t want him to think I’m… I don’t know, using him. He doesn’t have to do anything extra. Just whatever he was doing before.”
Marylou smiled faintly, though her eyes were still filled with sorrow. “Thank you, Chris. I know this isn’t easy, but you’re doing the right thing.”
Chris looked at her, his throat tight. “I just want him to be okay. That’s all.”
“We all do, sweetheart,” Marylou said softly.
The three of them sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation settling over them like a heavy blanket. Chris felt overwhelmed, but he also felt a small flicker of relief. For the first time in days, he felt like he had a plan—however imperfect it might be.
“I’ll do my best,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
Marylou reached out, pulling him into a hug. “That’s all we can ask for, honey.”
Jimmy joined the hug, wrapping his arms around both of them. “We’ll get through this together. All of us.”
Chris nodded against his father’s shoulder, holding onto the hope that they were right. But deep down, he couldn’t shake the fear that things would never be the same again.
Chris pulled back slightly from the hug, his brow furrowing at the thought of what his mom had said earlier—that he was now responsible for everything related to Matt. It wasn’t sinking in fully, at least not until now.
Marylou, reading the conflict on his face, sighed softly and gave his hand a squeeze. “Chris, I know this is overwhelming, but there’s something else we need to talk about—something practical.”
Chris looked up at her warily. “What now?”
Marylou hesitated, exchanging a look with Jimmy before continuing. “We need to update all of Matt’s records. His emergency contacts. School forms. Doctor’s records. Everything. They’ll need to have your name listed instead of mine and your father’s.”
Chris’s stomach dropped. “What? Why?”
“Because legally,” Jimmy said softly, “you’re his guardian now. His Dominant. That means you’re the one who gets called if something happens to him. If he’s sick at school or hurt in any way, they contact you. Not us.”
Chris blinked, as though trying to process the words. “But… you’re his parents. Why would they—” He stopped, his voice faltering as reality hit him all over again. Because Matt isn’t really ours anymore. He didn’t say it out loud, but the look on his face told Marylou and Jimmy he understood.
Marylou reached out again, brushing a piece of hair from his face. “I know this feels wrong, Chris. It is wrong. But it’s the law, and we have to follow it. It doesn’t mean we’ll stop being his parents. It doesn’t mean we won’t be here for both of you.”
Chris shook his head, his voice unsteady. “I don’t know how to do this. What if something happens? What if I mess it up? I’m fifteen. I’m not a parent, and I sure as hell don’t know how to handle—” He stopped himself, burying his face in his hands as the pressure threatened to boil over.
Jimmy leaned forward, his voice low and calm. “Chris, you’re not alone in this. You have us. You always will. But the law is what it is, and until something changes, you’re the one who has to step up for Matt. I know you don’t feel ready, but I also know you’ll do everything you can for him.”
Chris was silent for a long time, breathing deeply into his hands. Finally, he muttered, “I just don’t want to fail him.”
Marylou’s heart ached at how small he sounded, this boy who had been forced into a role he never asked for. “You won’t fail him, sweetheart. You’ve always looked out for Matt. You’ve protected him since the day you were born, and that’s not going to change.”
Chris slowly sat up, wiping at his eyes, though he refused to look at either of them. “And what if he hates me? What if I do something wrong and he just… hates me?”
“He won’t,” Jimmy said firmly. “Matt loves you, Chris. He’s hurting right now, but you two have always been solid. It’s going to take time, but you’ll figure it out.”
Chris didn’t respond, but he nodded faintly, his fingers fiddling with the hem of his hoodie. He wanted to believe his dad, but it didn’t feel that simple.
Marylou, as gently as she could, added, “We’ll help with the paperwork and get everything updated. I’ll talk to the school tomorrow, and we’ll set up appointments with Matt’s doctor. You won’t have to do this all at once, okay? One step at a time.”
“Okay,” Chris whispered, though it felt like he was agreeing to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Jimmy reached out, squeezing Chris’s shoulder reassuringly. “And if you need help with anything—anything at all—you come to us. We’re still your parents, Chris. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Chris nodded again, but the lump in his throat made it impossible to say anything. All he could think about was Matt—curled up in Justin’s room, probably feeling as lost and broken as Chris did. The thought of being the one person legally responsible for him felt unbearable. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.
“Can I… can I just have some time to think?” Chris finally asked, his voice barely audible.
Marylou smiled faintly, though there was sadness in her eyes. “Of course, sweetheart. Take all the time you need.”
Jimmy stood, offering Chris one last pat on the shoulder. “We’re proud of you, Chris. Even if you don’t feel ready, you’re already doing more than most people your age ever could.”
Chris didn’t answer, just stared blankly at the floor as his parents quietly left the room, closing the door behind them.
When they were gone, Chris let himself collapse back onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling as tears pricked his eyes again. The weight of it all—Matt’s collar, the paperwork, the title of owner—pressed down on him like a crushing force.
“One step at a time,” he whispered to himself, though the words felt hollow. How could he take a single step when the road ahead felt like an endless, twisting path?
In the room next door, he could faintly hear Matt shifting around in Justin’s bed. It was a quiet reminder of just how far apart they’d grown, even though they were only separated by a single wall.
For the first time in his life, Chris didn’t know how to reach his brother. And that scared him more than anything.
Jimmy hesitated outside Justin’s bedroom door, balancing a tray with a sandwich, some chips, and a glass of orange juice. He knew Matt wouldn’t touch it—Matt hadn’t eaten much since coming home from the DDSMS—but the gesture mattered. It gave him a reason to check on his broken boy.
Taking a deep breath, Jimmy knocked softly. “Matt? It’s Dad. Can I come in?”
There was no response, but Jimmy could hear the faint rustle of blankets. Taking the silence as permission, he opened the door slowly and stepped inside.
Matt was curled up on Justin’s bed, his body wrapped tightly in the blankets, looking more like a bundle than a person. His face was half-hidden against the pillow, his blue eyes staring blankly at the wall. Jimmy’s heart clenched at the sight—his boy looked so small, so defeated.
“Hey, kiddo,” Jimmy said gently, closing the door behind him. He set the tray down on Justin’s desk and pulled up the chair, keeping his movements slow and deliberate, as though he were approaching a frightened animal.
“I brought you something to eat. I know you’re not hungry, but I figured I’d try.”
Matt didn’t move, his gaze remaining fixed on the wall. Jimmy sat down in the chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He gave his son a moment of silence before speaking again.
“Matt, I know you’re having a rough time, and I wish I could make this all go away. I really do. But I wanted to talk to you about something important. Something your mom and I discussed with Chris.”
At that, Matt blinked and turned his head slightly, just enough to glance at his dad. Jimmy took it as a sign to keep going, though he kept his tone soft.
“Your mom and I sat down with Chris earlier. We wanted to talk about… what this means for you both now that you’re… well, Matched.”
Matt flinched at the word, his eyes dropping to the blanket he was clutching. Jimmy pressed on carefully, not wanting to push too hard but knowing this conversation couldn’t be avoided.
“Legally, things are different now,” Jimmy explained. “Chris is responsible for you. Your school records, your emergency contacts, even your doctor’s forms—they all have to be updated to list Chris as the person in charge of your care.”
Matt’s grip on the blanket tightened, his knuckles going white. Jimmy could see the tension ripple through his small frame, but he kept his voice steady.
“I know how that sounds, Matt. And I know it feels wrong. It feels wrong to me and your mom too. But it’s the law, and there’s nothing we can do to change that right now.”
Matt finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “So… I’m not even your son anymore?”
Jimmy’s chest tightened at the pain in Matt’s voice. He reached out cautiously, placing a hand on the edge of the bed near Matt’s curled-up form. “You will always be my son, Matty. Always. Nothing—no law, no collar, no Matching—can ever change that.”
Matt’s lips quivered, and he pressed his face into the pillow to hide his tears. Jimmy leaned in a little closer, keeping his voice soothing.
“Chris didn’t ask for this, Matt. None of us did. But he’s doing the best he can. We talked about rules—what you need, what might help—and he’s trying to make this as easy as possible for you.”
Matt turned his head just enough to look at his dad, tears streaking his cheeks. “What kind of rules?”
“Nothing big, I promise,” Jimmy assured him. “Just things to make sure you’re okay. Chris said he doesn’t want to take away any of your freedoms. He wants you to keep doing the things you love. He’s just… figuring this out too.”
Matt sniffled, his voice trembling. “It doesn’t feel like freedom. It feels like… like I’m not even me anymore.”
Jimmy’s heart broke all over again. He reached out and placed a gentle hand on Matt’s back, rubbing slow circles. “I know, son. I know it feels like that. But you’re still you. And you’re still ours. We’re going to get through this, Matty. One day at a time.”
Matt didn’t respond, but he didn’t pull away either. Jimmy took that as a small victory. He stayed there for a while, just rubbing his son’s back and letting the silence stretch. When he finally stood to leave, he placed a hand on Matt’s head and smoothed his hair gently.
“The food’s here if you want it, okay? And if you need anything—anything—you come to me or your mom. I don’t care what the papers say. You’re my boy.”
As Jimmy left the room, he couldn’t help but glance back at the small figure curled up on the bed. He closed the door softly behind him, his chest heavy with the weight of everything his family had been forced to carry.
It had been two months since Matt started doing school online, and the memory of that morning still lingered in the back of Chris’ mind. It was the first time he’d seen Matt in days, and it was haunting.
Chris remembered sitting at the kitchen table with Nick that morning, both of them eating cereal in complete silence. Their mother, standing at the counter with a steaming mug of coffee, quietly prayed for things to get better. The tension in the house had become suffocating since the Match.
Marylou couldn’t stop glancing at Chris. He looked awful. The bruised bags under his eyes looked painful, dark purple and heavy. He sat slumped in his seat, poking at his cereal like it was a chore, his eyes dull and lifeless. She knew he wasn’t sleeping—none of them really were. She could see Chris sitting right there in front of her, but in truth, he wasn’t there at all. The Match had taken something vital from him, and it was like the boy she’d raised had disappeared entirely.
The silence was broken by the soft shuffle of feet from the hallway. When Matt appeared, all three of them turned their heads, startled.
If Chris looked bad, then Matt… Matt was unrecognizable.
His pajamas hung loosely off his thin frame, the hoodie drooping like it was swallowing him whole. His hair was an uncombed mess, tufts sticking out at odd angles. The pale skin of his neck was littered with faint red scratches, the evidence of Matt constantly tugging and clawing at his collar. What broke Marylou the most, though, was his face.
Matt looked terrified. His eyes were wide and wild, like a cornered animal. He stared at the three of them for a beat too long, as though debating whether to speak or flee back to Justin’s room.
“…Morning honey, are you ok—” Marylou started softly, trying not to startle him.
“Please don’t make me go, Chris!” Matt blurted out, interrupting her. His voice cracked, and Chris’ heart fell straight through the floor.
Chris blinked at him, taken aback. “What are you talking about? What’s wr—”
“Please don’t make me go to school. I’ll do online, or whatever you want me to. But please, Chris—I can’t do it,” Matt’s voice was pleading, his expression crumbling into one of sheer panic.
For a moment, Chris froze. He looked at Matt, really looked at him—the tearful eyes, the shaking hands, the weight loss that left him fragile and brittle. Chris’ stomach twisted into knots.
He’d seen Matt cry plenty of times before, but this was different. This wasn’t just sadness; this was fear. And he was the cause of it.
“What are you talking about? I don’t—” Chris fumbled over his words, glancing helplessly at their mother, but Marylou was watching Matt with a look that said she wanted to scoop him up and hide him away from the world. She said nothing, leaving Chris to decide.
And that was the worst part—he had to decide. It wasn’t their mom’s call anymore, or Jimmy’s. It was his. He hated that.
Chris sighed heavily, running a hand down his face. He didn’t want Matt to miss out on school, on seeing his friends—on being normal. But he also knew that Matt going back to school with a collar around his neck would destroy him. Kids could be cruel, and Matt was already a target for assholes just for being a Sub. Now? With that collar on full display? Chris couldn’t put him through that.
“…Yeah,” Chris finally muttered, his voice soft. “Okay. I’ll enroll you in online classes today.”
Matt visibly sagged in relief. “Thank you! Thank you so much! Thank you!” he cried, spinning on his heel and practically sprinting back down the hallway to Justin’s room.
“Matt, wait! Eat something!” Marylou called after him, but he was already gone.
The kitchen fell silent again. Chris dropped his spoon into his cereal with a clink, staring at the empty hallway where Matt had disappeared.
“You sure that was a good idea?” Nick asked, breaking the silence. His voice was flat, but not cruel. “He might never leave the house now.”
“Don’t start, Nick,” Chris shot back, his voice sharper than he intended.
Nick held up his hands in surrender, but the words still hung heavy in the air. Chris knew Nick wasn’t wrong. He just didn’t know what else to do.
Matt wanted to reach out to Chris—God, he wanted to—but every time he thought about it, something held him back. Maybe it was pride. Maybe it was fear. Fear that Chris didn’t want him anymore, not in the way he used to.
Chris had always been his person—his constant. If Nick was his brother, then Chris was his home. Matt felt like a piece of himself had been carved out, the emptiness spreading through him like a virus. It was as if he’d woken up one day and the entire right side of his body was missing. Chris had always been there, for as long as Matt could remember. The only time they’d ever been apart was the two agonizing minutes between their births, and Matt swore those two minutes had marked the first and last time he would ever feel alone.
But here he was now, more alone than ever, and it was killing him.
His days had turned into a monotonous cycle of waking up, logging into his online classes, and curling up in Justin’s bed, hiding away from the rest of the house. He barely ate—food felt like too much effort, and the constant hollow ache in his stomach had become an afterthought. Sleep wasn’t much better. He’d stare at the ceiling for hours, waiting for the exhaustion to finally drag him under, only to wake up an hour or two later, his body restless and his heart aching for something—or someone—he couldn’t have.
Chris.
He hated Chris for not reaching out. He hated himself for not doing it first. He missed him so much it physically hurt. Chris was supposed to be the one person who would never leave him. Never. And yet, here they were—tiptoeing around each other like strangers, as if the bond they had spent a lifetime building had shattered beyond repair.
Chris knew he was failing Matt. He could feel it in his bones every time he looked at his brother—or rather, avoided looking at him. It wasn’t like Matt was making an effort either, but that didn’t stop Chris from hating himself for it. He’d always promised Matt that he would look out for him, protect him, keep him safe. And now? Now he could barely face him.
It was the power he held. The suffocating, unbearable power.
He knew Matt had to hate him for it. How could he not? Chris hated himself for it, too. Owning Matt? Being in charge of him? It wasn’t right. It didn’t feel natural. Matt wasn’t property, and he wasn’t a servant. He was Matt. Chris’ brother. His other half. His best friend. And now that Chris was his Dom, he didn’t know how to be those things anymore.
Every night, Chris would linger outside Justin’s door, his hand hovering near the doorknob as he debated whether to go in. He knew Matt was in there, alone, probably just as miserable as he was. He imagined curling up next to him, like they used to, and whispering that everything would be okay. That they’d figure this out. That he loved him, and none of this changed that.
But every single time, Chris turned away. He couldn’t bring himself to do it.
What if Matt didn’t want him there? What if Matt resented him so much that his presence would just make it worse?
Chris would press his forehead against the door for a moment, breathing in slow and deep before finally forcing himself back down the hall. It was cowardly—he knew that. Matt was hurting, and Chris was supposed to fix it. It was his job now. But instead, he left Matt to suffer alone, hiding behind his own fear.
They were both breaking apart, piece by piece, and Chris didn’t know how to stop it.
Matt was his other half. Without him, Chris felt incomplete—like a puzzle missing its final piece. He was hollow and restless, his thoughts consumed by what they’d lost. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.
And yet, here they were—two halves of a whole, separated by a gulf so wide neither of them knew how to cross it.
Chris swore he’d figure it out. He had to. Because Matt wasn’t just his Sub—he was still Matt. His brother. His best friend. His person.
And Chris couldn’t live without him
Chris thought back to something his mother had said a couple of weeks ago. She had said it offhandedly, as a joke at the time, but the more he thought about it, the less absurd it seemed. He didn’t want to resort to it, not really, but if things didn’t start looking up soon—if Matt kept avoiding him like the plague, and if Chris couldn’t figure out how to fix the chasm between them—he felt like he’d have no other choice.
He leaned back in his chair and ran his hands over his face, exhausted. The island bench in the kitchen was covered with a mountain of paperwork sent to him by the DDSMS. It was a bureaucratic nightmare: page after page of clauses, rules, responsibilities, and obligations—all centered on Matt and the fact that Chris now legally owned him.
Chris had spent the last two hours slogging through it, barely making a dent in the stack. His head pounded from staring at the small black text for so long, and the six cans of Pepsi he’d downed in a desperate attempt to stay awake had done little more than leave his hands jittery and his stomach sour. A half-empty can sat next to him, condensation dripping onto one of the documents.
He sighed deeply, rubbing at his tired eyes as he skimmed yet another page:
- Submissives are to seek verbal permission before speaking freely in a shared space with their Dominant.
- Submissives must obtain approval before initiating physical contact.
- A Dominant holds full authority over a Submissive's wardrobe, dietary intake, and personal schedule.
Chris felt sick reading it, but he forced himself to keep going. He didn’t want to overlook something important—something that might strip Matt of even more rights than he’d already lost.
The next page detailed disciplinary expectations:
- A Dominant is permitted to employ physical discipline in circumstances of disobedience, as long as it remains within the legal confines of DDSMS regulations.
Chris shoved the page aside with disgust, his fists clenching. Physical discipline? On Matt? The idea made him want to throw up. Matt wasn’t some disobedient dog—he was his brother, his best friend, his other half. How the hell was any of this legal?
He grabbed the next sheet and flipped it over, feeling his frustration spike as he read the next section:
- It is encouraged for a Dominant to establish clear and firm rules to aid in maintaining a structured and obedient dynamic with their Submissive.
Chris let out an angry sigh, his head dropping to the table with a soft thud. He stayed like that, face pressed into the cool wood, trying to will away the headache that had been building all evening.
That was how Marylou found him when she entered the kitchen, looking for her phone. She paused in the doorway, frowning when she saw the stacks of papers spread out in front of her son.
“You okay, honey?” she asked softly, concern lacing her voice.
Chris groaned into the table before sitting up, his face pale and his expression weary. “Yeah, just over all of this bullshit.” He waved a hand over the mess of documents with a bitter laugh.
“Language,” Marylou warned, though her tone was gentle as she moved to stand on the opposite side of the island.
“Sorry,” Chris muttered, not really meaning it. He picked up one of the papers and held it out to her, his voice tinged with disbelief. “Look at this. ‘Allowing your Sub to speak freely without needing permission.’ It makes me feel sick.”
Marylou took the page from him, scanning the words. Her face crumpled with repulsion, and she scoffed in disbelief. “My god,” she whispered, setting the paper back down. “It’s disgusting.”
“It doesn’t even matter,” Chris muttered, slumping back in his chair. “Matt’s probably never going to speak to me again anyway.”
Marylou looked at him sharply. “Oh, I doubt that. You two just need to get back to how you were.”
Chris shook his head, his voice small and sad. “I don’t think we can. It’s been weeks, Mom. Weeks. And we’ve barely spoken. He’s scared of me.” His throat tightened, but he pushed through it. “I don’t know what to do. I didn’t want this. Matt’s my best friend, and it’s killing me not speaking to him.”
Marylou’s heart broke for him. She could see the weight this was putting on her son, how it had aged him in a matter of weeks. “So speak to him,” she said gently. “He’s always home. Just go talk to him.”
Chris laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “You know I can’t. What would I even say? ‘Hey, Matt, I’m sorry I own you now?’”
Marylou bit back a sigh, trying to think of something—anything—that might help. “Maybe the two of you should just go to couples therapy,” she said with a small laugh, hoping to lighten the mood.
Chris looked up at her with a dry stare. “Wow. Thanks, Mom.”
She grinned, reaching out to ruffle his hair as she moved around the counter to hug him from behind. Chris let her hold him, his tense shoulders relaxing just a bit as she kissed the top of his head.
“I’m going to bed,” she said softly. “Don’t stay up all night. And no more Pepsi. Those were meant to last the week.”
Chris managed a faint grin. “Right. Sorry.”
She paused in the doorway, glancing back at him. “You’ll work it out, Chris. Give it time. I know you will. I love you.”
Chris swallowed thickly, looking down at the papers again. “Love you too,” he whispered.
Once she was gone, the weight of the situation came crashing back down on him. Chris stared at the paperwork for another minute before shoving it aside and burying his face in his hands.
Matt was his best friend. And now? Now he was something else entirely—a Submissive under Chris’s control. Chris didn’t want this power. He didn’t want to make the rules. But the thought of anyone else holding this power over Matt made him sick.
Somehow, he had to make this right. Somehow, he had to protect Matt from a system that had already failed him.
But as he sat there alone in the dimly lit kitchen, surrounded by stacks of legal jargon that stripped Matt of every right he’d ever had, Chris couldn’t help but wonder how he was ever supposed to fix something that felt so irreparably broken.