Work Text:
Matty's head was pounding hard.... and his stomach was unraveling and tying itself into knots decorated with bows. He had just spoken with his best friend, Theodore Uris, but he goes by Teddy. Matty thinks Theodore is a cute name, but Teddy says it “Makes me sound like one of the USA presidents.” Which isn't wrong, but Teddy still doesn't like it as much as Matty does.
His face red as it could be, he soon turned to a beautiful blue as his father's hands squeezed harder around his throat. Matty knew his dad wouldn't kill him; he's tried too much; Matty was just a punching bag. for his dad.
His mom? She tried to give Matty a normal childhood, even when his dad started to drink and turn violent.
“T-THATS E-E-ENOUGH! I-I SWEAR TO GOD!” His mom screamed from the doorway.
Matty knew his dad wouldn't stop until he was forced to, but this time he released his grip and turned to his Mom, “Matty dear, your father and I are gonna talk, okay, try to find a friend's house to stay at-!” She talked quickly, trying to get everything out, but was immediately interrupted with a shove out of the doorway and into the hallway.
The bag, he knew where it was and what was stashed in it, under his bed in the far back. Taking a second to breathe, he calmly but quickly crouched down and grabbed the bag. It was a bright blue bag, impossible to miss.
“Alright, let's see, blankie, toothbrush, toothpaste, stuffie, and finally paci. yep all here.” Matty zips his bags and quickly scurries away by opening his window, putting one leg out the window, then the other one, and jumping out. It was still a drop for Matty, but he's practiced to where he can almost land on his feet, “Ow- shit.” Remember when I said almost?
Getting up quickly, he brushed his knees off, but the dirt still stayed. Matty limped a little as he made his way down the street, clutching the blue bag to his chest. The sun was starting to set, casting long shadows across the neighborhood. He glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to see his father's silhouette in the window, but the house stayed quiet.
Matty didn't actually know where Teddy lived. He usually just met him at school or the standpipe up the hill—a spot only Teddy, Matty, and Teddy's friend Phil knew about. It was their secret place, where the three of them could talk, laugh, or just get away from everything else.
Sometimes, Matty wondered if the standpipe was magic, because no one else ever seemed to find it, even when the neighborhood kids played hide and seek all summer long. Tonight, Matty hoped Teddy or maybe even Phil would be there, waiting for him.
But as he walked, he knew no one would be there. No one was ever at the standpipe unless the three of them—Matty, Teddy, and Phil—had planned to meet up. At least, that's what he thought, until he saw a tall, lanky figure by the opening of the standpipe.
As he got closer, Matty recognized the unmistakable silhouette: it was Phil. Phil towered over most kids their age, with messy brown hair and a habit of saying exactly what was on his mind, no matter who was listening. He was also obsessed with alien conspiracies; Matty was sure Phil could turn any conversation into a debate about UFOs. Now Matty didn't want to talk with Phil, since he knew what Phil would point out: the marks on his neck. Usually, his mom would put her makeup over any bruise, but since this was so sudden, he wasn't able to. He grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, going up the stairs. He was hoping Phil would just pretend he wasn't there, but as soon as he got to the top, there Phil stood.
“Matty? Why are you here?” Phil was holding a sketch book and a model of a plane, as his eyebrow raised, a croak came from Matty's mouth, “J-Just…here.” Matty covered his neck quickly, but Phil's nose seemed to have already pushed into his business.
“Heh- no, you aren't Matty. Your neck! what ya dad do that to you?” Phil stepped closer, causing Matty to step back. “Phil dr-drop it, it's none of your beeswax!” Matty felt cornered; his guard was already up, and he knew Phil wasn't the biggest fan of his.
Matty only tolerated Phil to get closer to Teddy.
“Big and brave now, huh?” Phil stepped closer, but before Matty could step away, Phil grabbed his wrist, pulling him closer to his chest.
“Matty, I barely know why Teddy deals with you, ya know, you've been getting pretty buddy-buddy with Teddy.” Matty squirmed, trying to wriggle his way out of Phil's grip. “S-So what hes m-my friend!” Phil finally lets go and turns to face the railing. “Well, good thing Teddy and I usually get paid by your mom.” There was no way that was true; his mom doesn't even have money! “Phil c-cut the c-crap..” Matty stepped closer, “Nah im a little pissed since your mom is late on her payment…”
That's when Matty ran, arms in front of him; he was going to kill Phil. Before Phil could register what was going on, his body was already over the railing, head-on track to impact with the concrete at the bottom.
“PLUCH”
Matty didn't dare to look over. WHAT THE FUCK HAD HE JUST DONE!? It came to him all at once, causing a scream to echo out of his mouth as he ran down the stairs to unfortunately look at what he had just done…..Once on the ground, he went over to Phil's body, crushed completely, and blood got on Matty as he picked up and hugged Phil, but Phil was still breathing.
“HE-HEY Y-YOU-YOU’LL B-B-BEEE FINE YEAH, PR-PROMISE!” Matty scrambled the words out, but Phil knew what was gonna happen to him. He leaned his crushed face closer to Matty, “Remember what you did...” Those were the last words of Phil Malkins.
He finally went limp, “Phil…hey- hey P-Phil m-my mom st-still hasn't paid y-you r-remember!” That was of no use.
Phil was dead, and Matty had killed him. Getting up, Matty ran to the nearest house, running through the grass, and he finally saw a familiar house, the Bainbridges. Matty's knuckles rapped frantically against the peeling paint of the door, his breath coming out in short, ragged bursts. He glanced back down the street, half-expecting sirens or neighbors to start pouring out of their houses. The porch light flickered on.
Mrs. Bainbridge and let out an immediate gasp, “Matty! Are you okay!” She turns back into her house and orders Lily to her room.
Matty, covered in blood and dirt, was trembling on her stoop. “Help me,” Matty choked out, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Please—I didn’t mean to—I think he’s dying—” The words tangled in his mouth, too heavy for him to say aloud.
Matty watched as Mrs Bainbridge got to the phone and called the cops, at that momment Matty needed a cover story…Matty's mind spun, grasping for something—anything—that might keep him safe. He wiped his sleeve across his mouth, tasting blood and sweat.
The phone cord twisted around Mrs. Bainbridge’s finger as she spoke quickly and quietly, glancing at him with wide, worried eyes. Matty tried to steady his breathing, but every inhale rattled in his chest.
He thought about lying. He thought about running. But his legs felt heavy as stone, and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He pictured Teddy’s face—calm, steady, always knowing what to do. What would Teddy say right now? What would Teddy do? Matty wanted to call him, to hear his voice, but he knew that wasn’t possible.
Matty squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force out the memory of Phil’s limp body. He needed a story—a story that would make sense. Nobody would believe a kid like him could do that to someone like Phil. But they would believe his dad could.
Matty’s whole life was proof. The marks on his neck, the bruises, the neighbors’ whispers. The police had seen it before. They’d seen his dad drunk and wild, screaming in the yard, breaking bottles against the porch. They’d seen Matty’s mom with tears on her face and Matty hiding behind her legs.
He took a shaky breath. If he said his father followed him to the standpipe, that he’d tried to get away, that Phil tried to stop him from hurting Matty—maybe that would be enough. Maybe the police would believe it. Maybe they’d take his dad away, and he’d finally be safe. The guilt twisted in his stomach, but survival was louder than shame. Matty wiped his eyes and stood a little straighter, preparing himself for the story he would have to tell.
Mrs Bainbridge ushered him inside and on the couch, then grabbed something from the kitchen and came back, sitting next to Matty, handing him a brownie. “Oh dearie, tell me what happened.” Matty nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. “M-My dad…H-he pushed P-Phil off…”
Mrs. Bainbridge’s arms tightened around Matty’s shoulders. “Oh, honey. The police will know what to do. You just stay right here.”
The wail of sirens grew louder, swirling red and blue lights flickering through the curtains. Matty’s heart pounded in his chest. Every second stretched, the guilt clawing at him.
A heavy knock rattled the door. Mrs. Bainbridge opened it to two officers with solemn faces. Detective Sergeant Harold Graves and Patrolman Raymond Kowalski. The officers looked grim as they took in the blood-soaked boy.
Graves crouched in front of Matty. “Alright, son. Let’s start with the basics. What’s your name?”
“Matthew Clements,” Matty whispered, keeping his voice small. “But everybody calls me Matty.”
“How old are you, Matty?”
“El-eleven.”
“Who’s the boy who got hurt?”
“Phil-l Malkin. M-my friend.”
Graves nodded. “We need to see where this happened. We’re going to walk you back to the standpipe so you can show us exactly what you saw. Can you do that?”
Matty’s legs felt like lead, but he nodded. The short walk felt like forever. When they reached the standpipe, Phil’s body still lay under a sheet, and police and ambulances guarded it, a dark pool of blood spreading across the concrete. Matty stopped a few yards away, stomach churning.
“Easy now,” Graves said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Step by step. Tell us what happened here.”
Matty pointed up at the platform, his voice trembling just enough to sound believable. “Phil a-and I met up af-after my mom told me to go since-e Dad was in a bad mood, then I guess Dad came looking for me. He saw Phil u-up there and got really mad. He climbed up and started yelli-yelling. They argued… Dad called him a no-good troublemaker. Then Dad pushed him. Ha-Hard. Phil went right over the railing.”
He swallowed. “I saw it from up there. Dad climbed down fast, he yelled at me, telling me I didn’t see anything, and ran toward the woods.”
Graves studied him carefully. “You saw your father push him with your own eyes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Does your dad drink?”
Matty nodded. “A couple of beers after work. He gets mean when he drinks.” Matty tries to fain innocents, hoping it worked. “Well, son, let's just say you aren't going back there. We’ll try to find your dad, but in the meantime, do you have any other relatives you could stay with?”
Matty was estranged from all his relatives, so he genuinely had no clue “N-No, sir..I do ha-have a friend's house though..”
“Okay. We’ll try to get in touch with their family. But first, you’ll need to come to the station so we can get everything sorted and have you looked at by a doctor.”
Matty’s hands tightened around his blue bag. He was grateful the officers let him grab him from the standpipe, but that didn't compare to how he feels right now. He felt hollow, as if he were drifting through a dream he couldn’t wake up from.
Getting in the car and the ride to the station was a blur—red and blue lights flashing through the window, Matty staring at his reflection in the glass. He tried not to think about Phil, or his father, or the story he’d told. He tried not to think at all.
At the station, Mrs. Bainbridge stayed by his side, answering questions for him when his voice failed. A nurse cleaned him up and wrapped a blanket around his shoulders. Someone handed him a cup of chocolate milk. Matty held it with both hands, feeling the warmth seep into his fingers.
There Matty sat, he knew he had killed someone, but no one else did….God, Teddy, how is Teddy gonna take this news?
Sipping on the chocolate milk was comforting Matty in small doses, but when he looked down, he was still wearing the clothes he wore when he killed Phil, fuck, Phil's family. His sister, mother, and father, what are they gonna do?
Matty's mind started to wander until he concluded that he was just selfish; he took the life of someone who actually deserved a life to live. Matty always thought he knew where he was going, end up like his mom or his deadbeat dad, but he never expected to be here.
He pulled his knees to his chest, and tears finally started to stream down his face. That's when “Ding!” the front door had opened, and there he was. It was now way past 12 am, so Matty wasn't surprised that every Uris family member was in their PJs, including Teddy.
“Bum-du-bruam,” there was Matty's heart looking at Teddy always affected him, but this was diffrent. Matty felt a deep pit in his stomach, mixed with what he was feeling earlier, looking at Teddy now, who was in his navy pajama set with some bunny slippers. But his face was red and his eyes puffy and bloodshot.
Teddy stepped closer, voice shaky but determined. “Matty… are you okay? Everyone’s saying crazy stuff. My mom says you’re staying with us tonight. Is that… is that true?”
Matty just nodded, unable to meet Teddy’s eyes.
Teddy hesitated, then sat on the edge of the bed. “I… I heard about Phil. The police talked to my parents and everything. Matty, is it true your dad did it?”
Looking down, Matty nodded. He expected Teddy to fall to his knees and cry his eyes out, but Teddy sat next to him “…. It's not your fault, I hope you know that.” Teddy's voice was shaky, like he was actively holding back tears.
For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence in Teddy’s room felt heavier than anything Matty had ever known. He wanted to tell Teddy the truth—about Phil, about what really happened—but the words stuck in his throat. Instead, he just hugged his knees tighter, wishing he could disappear. Teddy reached over and put a hand on Matty’s shoulder. "You can stay as long as you need," he whispered. "My mom said it’s okay. We’ll figure this out….if it makes you feel better, I have a pallet next to my bed you're able to sleep on…” Matty nods, “I-Id like that..a-a lot.”
“Boys!” Mrs Uris looked over to both of them, she just finished talking with one of the officers who was stationed at the front desk. “Let's get a move on.” Matty stood up. His legs were shaking as he walked next to Teddy, out of the station, and to their car.
As they approached the car, Teddy walked in front of Matty and opened the backseat door for him. Matty’s face turned red, and he nodded, entering the car from the door that Teddy had just opened. The cushioned seats were more comfortable than the police station's hard wooden benches.
Mrs. Uris started the car, the engine humming softly in the quiet night. Teddy slid in beside Matty, clutching a crumpled tissue in his hand. The dashboard lights cast gentle shadows across their faces as the car pulled out of the parking lot and onto the empty road.
No one spoke for a while. Matty stared out the window, watching the streetlights flicker by, his thoughts a tangled knot of guilt and exhaustion. Every so often, Teddy’s eyes darted over, as if checking to make sure Matty was really there.
Until his voice spoke up, “U-Uhmm, you need extra clothes..?” Matty looked at Teddy, who was looking down at his legs that were still covered in blood. “Y-Yes, please..” Matty nodded, “You can use my clothes, not some stupid old shirts…T-That okay..?” Matty nodded once more.
When they pulled into the Uris driveway, Matty unbuckled his seatbelt quickly, grabbing his bag before Mrs. Uris could say a word. He moved as if he could outrun the questions, the looks, the memories. The porch light glowed above them, but Matty kept his eyes down, following Teddy inside without waiting for anyone.
In the hallway, Mrs. Uris started to say something—something gentle, Matty could tell—but he shook his head fast. "I-I'm fine…"
Teddy hovered at his side, uncertain. "You wanna talk about—"
"N-No," Matty snapped, the word coming out sharp. He saw the hurt flicker across Teddy’s face. Matty tried to soften his voice. "I’m just tired, okay?"
Teddy nodded, leading him down the hall. "You can use my shower if you want... or not. It's fine." Matty took a deep breath. “Tha-That would be nice..” Teddy opened a closet that was in the hallway and handed Matty a clean towel. “This is my towel, I don't care if you stain it, I can just pop it in the wash easily…The bathroom is the last door on the left, let me get you some clothes…” With that, Teddy walked away.
Matty stepped quietly into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The silence inside felt different—cleaner, safer, but still heavy on his chest. He set the towel on the sink and caught his reflection in the mirror: wild hair, cheeks streaked with dirt and dried tears, and the blood on his shirt turning brown. He turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat, peeling off his clothes one layer at a time, flinching at the bruises blooming across his skin.
The steam filled the small room. Under the spray, Matty scrubbed his skin until it stung, trying to wash away the blood, the guilt, and the memory of Phil’s broken body. He stayed until the water began to cool, then wrapped himself in Teddy’s towel and stood for a moment, breathing in the clean, soapy air.
A soft knock came at the door. "Matty? I put some clothes outside. You can just leave yours in the hamper, okay?" Teddy sounded nervous, but kind.
Matty opened the door a crack and took the folded pajamas and t-shirt Teddy had left. He changed quickly. His old clothes sat in a heap, heavy with memories he couldn’t scrub away.
When he emerged, Teddy was waiting in his room, sitting cross-legged on the bed. "You can have the bed," Teddy mumbled, not meeting his eyes. "I don’t mind the floor."
Matty shook his head. "No, I’ll take the pallet. It’s okay."
Teddy nodded. He slid off the bed and curled up on the floor beside Matty. “I said you could sleep in your bed…I-I don't need it..” Teddy sighed, looking at the ceiling, “Matty…I can't sleep alone, and if I can't sleep…I know you can't either… especially after what you just saw…with Phil-” Matty shook his head “Nop-Nope….I’m o-okay… promi-promise.” Teddy turned to face Matty's side.
“Just get some rest….” Teddy reached up, grabbed the pull-switch, and was about to tug the lamp off when Matty's voice stopped him, “P-P-please… don’t judg-judge me…” Matty reached into his bag and proceeded to pull everything out.
He lined up his blankie, the stuffed bear his mom had given him years ago, and his pacifier. Matty waited for the teasing or the questions, but it never came, “Alright…if you need those things…I won't judge. Light off..?” Matty looked at Teddy, surprised, but managed to let out a response, “Y-Yeah..”
“CLICK”
And with that, the light was off. Matty tried to settle down; he covered himself with his blanket, hugged his Teddy bear, and popped his pacifier in his mouth.
But he couldn't get what he did out of his head; he just kept repeating the same words, “It was my dad…” Matty soon started to believe it with the number of times he rewinded the same phrase.
Matty was in denial; he couldn't accept what he had just done. It would be better if he ignored it entirely, never spoke about it, and at least tried to do something to get his mind off of what had conspired at the standpipe.
But even as Matty tried to force himself into sleep, the silence in Teddy’s room pressed in on him, thick and suffocating. His ear picked up Teddy’s breathing—slow, steady, comforting—and the distant sound of Mr. and Mrs. Uris murmuring in the kitchen. For a few moments, he felt like he was safe.
Matty soon focused his ears to listen to Teddy's shallow breathing, calming him enough to eventually fall asleep.
The next morning was bright, and the curtains in Teddy's room were open, letting a light beam straight into Matty’s eye. “Ugh…m-my eye..” Matty clasped a hand over his eye and tried to get up when he felt something heavy over his ribs.
Looking down, he noticed a sleeping sideways Teddy Uris draped unflatteringly across him, shit, Matty's stomach was turning, his face becoming red. Matty was able to wiggle his arms out from under Teddy's.
He lay still for a moment, barely breathing, the comfort of the soft bed at odds with the memories pressing at the back of his mind. Morning light spilled through the window, painting stripes across the floor and highlighting the mess of Teddy’s hair. For a second, Matty let himself pretend this was just a normal sleepover—just two friends, nothing to worry about.
But as Teddy yawned and blinked awake, Matty felt the weight in his chest again. Teddy sat up, rubbing his face and mumbling, “Sorry, did I crush you?” Matty shook his head, avoiding Teddy’s eyes. Teddy stood up and stretched his shirt, lifting it with a noisy yawn. Matty rolled onto his side, clutching the blanket tighter.
Teddy walked to his closet and opend it, grabbing a clean shirt, clean pants, and some clean boxers, and tossed them to Matty. “Uhmm, y-you’re comfortable with me u-using your boxers…?” Matty holds them up.
“Yeah.. don't worry, my parents will more than likely take you to get some new clothes. just use them there clean.” Matty nods, “Uhm-uhmm m-mind turining around..?”
Teddy's face immediately goes red. “O-Oh! yeahyeahsorrysorry.” He spurted out the words quickly and turned away, covering his face with his hands
Matty quickly changed into the clean clothes Teddy had given him, his hands fumbling with the unfamiliar fabric. The boxers were a little loose, but they were soft and smelled faintly of laundry detergent—a comforting contrast to everything else.
He rolled up his old clothes and set them carefully by the door, wishing the memories would be as easy to set aside.
“Okay,” he called, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’m done.” Teddy turned around, facing Matty. “Looks nice…Im gonna get changed, my parents are more than likely already down there.” Matty nods, “A-Al-Alright.” Matty opens the door of Teddy's room and leaves.
Down the hallway and then down the beautiful, winding spiral staircase, where a Menorah statue stood proudly in the center. Matty knew Teddy was Jewish, but it didn’t matter to him in the slightest. He had never understood why people cared so much about religion anyway.
As soon as his foot hit the first floor, he was immediately thrown a question: “Matty, sweetheart, how did you sleep?” Mrs. Uris asked, her voice gentle but edged with worry. Mr. Uris poured himself a coffee, his eyes flicking between Matty and his wife.
“Do you want something to eat? We have toast—whatever you’d like,” she continued, striving for normalcy.
Matty stared at the floor, not used to being asked what he wanted. “J-Just toast, please,” he murmured. Later, Mrs. Uris slid a piece of toast that was on a napkin in front of Matty. “Sorry, dear, we know you aren't used to our food, we’ll try to accommodate your needs if it's needed.” Matty looked up and gave a shaky smile. “I understand, Mrs. Uris, I-I pr-promise im n-not pick-picky.”
Matty took a bite out of his toast; the crunching reminded him of Phil. He lost his appetite after that. He crumbled up the toast in the napkin and tossed it away in the trash. Matty then made his way to the couch, sitting down. Not even a minute later, Teddy came down the stairs, his curls gently bouncing.
Teddy looked over and hesitated before he sat next to Matty, giving him enough space until Teddy grabbed the remote, “Cartoons..?” Matty chuckled, “T-T-Teddy Uris wat-watches car-cartoons..?” Teddy's face flushed red in embarrassment. “So what..? Cartoons or?” Matty nods as Teddy flips to Looney Tunes.
The time passed quickly, making Matty forget what happened with the toast, as he watched the TV. His focus shifted from the cartoon to Teddy, his hair, his skin, and his eyes captivated Matty's attention for who knows how long.
Until the phone on the wall rang. Matty was about to get up until Teddy stopped him, “You sit, I’ll get it.” Teddy walked to the yellow landline and answered it, “Uris residence, this is Teddy.” He walked around while listening until, with his fingers, he called over Matty, “Yeah, he’s here, mhm. passing the landline now.” Teddy handed the phone to Matty's hand
Matty gazed at it and brought it up to his ear.
“H-Hello, this is Matty..” He twisted the cord around his finger.
“Hey, kid, it's Detective Graves. uhhh just lettin ya know we got your dad here.”
Matty slightly smiles, but it drops when he realizes that his mom might try to protect his dad. “T-Thats good, i-is there any-anything else you need…?”
“Yeah, uhh, we need ya at the station again…now that your mind is mostly clear.” Graves grunted.
Matty nods, “O-Okay.. uhmm.” Matty needed a lie. “You know m-my mom, is sh-she there..?”
“Uhh, yeah, why?”
Deep breath in, deep breath out. “M-My mom uhmm s-she was in-institutionalized in Ju-Juniper hil-hill, she t-told you th-that rig-right..?”
“Hmmmmm.” Graves sounded unsure but surprisingly believed Matty, “No, she never told us. Thank you for telling us. But remember, we need you back at the station, okay?”
Matty nods, “Y-Yeah I’ll be-be there so-soon.”
Teddy looked at Matty with a raised eyebrow. “What do they need you for now?” Matty responded by swallowing a lump in his throat, “They nee-need to que-question me again…” Teddy turned to the door and pointed, “I’ll give you a ride on my bike,” before Matty could respond. Teddy had tugged him to his bike.
“Careful, my bike is a little old.” Teddy put one leg over the other, now sitting on his bike, “C’mon.” Matty hesitantly got on after him, wrapping his arms around Teddy's waist.
The morning air was crisp as Teddy pushed off, his sneakers scraping the pavement. Matty held tight, his cheek pressed to Teddy’s back, the warmth and comfort of his friend the only thing steady in a world that seemed to be spinning out of control. Houses and trees blurred past, sunlight glinting off windows as the bike rattled over cracks in the sidewalk.
As they neared the police station, Teddy slowed down, glancing over his shoulder. “You want me to wait inside?” he asked quietly.
Matty nodded, unable to find his voice. He climbed off the bike, legs wobbly, and watched Teddy set the kickstand. Together, they walked up to the heavy glass doors and entered. There, waiting was Detective Graves.
“Glad ya came, kid.” Graves shook Matty's hand and led him to an interrogation room, leaving Teddy behind in the waiting room.
The room was cold, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Matty sat in a hard plastic chair, his hands folded tight in his lap as Graves took the seat across from him. The detective slid a paper cup of water across the table. “Take your time, Matty. I just have a few more questions.”
Matty’s throat felt dry, but he nodded and took a careful sip. Graves leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I know you’ve been through a lot, son. But I need you to go over it again—just so we’re clear. Anything you remember, even the smallest detail, could help.”
Matty’s mind raced. He could feel the truth bubbling up, but he forced himself to stick to the story. “I already told you, sir. My dad was angry. He pushed Phil. I— I couldn’t stop him.”
Graves studied him for a long moment, then scribbled something in his notebook. “And you’re sure you didn’t touch Phil? Not at all?”
Matty shook his head, tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. “No, sir. I tried to help, but it was too late.” Graves nodded slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on Matty. The detective’s pen hovered over his notebook, as if he was waiting for Matty’s words to reveal something hidden. “That’s what you said before, yeah. Your old man lost his temper and gave Phil a shove.
Things got out of hand fast.” He took a sip from his cup, the paper making a quiet crinkle. “But the doc’s report... it mentions some marks that don’t quite fit with just a fall. Bruising on the arms, like someone grabbed hold. Did you see anything like that?”
Matty twisted his fingers together under the table until his knuckles turned white. The buzzing lights felt louder, closing in on him.
He swallowed hard, but the water didn’t help the tight feeling in his chest. “I... I don’t remember grabbing anybody, sir. It all happened so fast. Dad was yelling, Phil was backing up near the edge, and then... he went over. I ran to look, but there was nothing I could do.”
Graves leaned back, the chair creaking under his weight. He flipped a page in the notebook, scanning earlier notes with a faint frown. “Kids get scared, Matty. I get it. You’re trying to protect your family. But if there’s more to it—if you laid a hand on Phil to steady him, or to pull him back—now’s the time to say. Makes a difference in how this gets written up.”
Matty blinked back the sting in his eyes, staring at the scuffed floor tiles instead of the detective’s steady gaze. His heart hammered against his ribs, the lie feeling heavier with every second. “No, sir,” he whispered, voice barely carrying across the table. “I swear. I didn’t touch him.”
The detective sighed, closing the notebook with a soft thud. For a moment, the room felt even smaller, the air thicker. “Alright, son. We’ll leave it there for now. But think on it. Truth has a way of coming out eventually.”
Detective Graves opened the door and led him to where Teddy was. “Now you kids be safe..” With that, the door closed behind Matty
“What's his issue?” Teddy shakes his head as he pushes the door open so he and Matty can leave. Matty shivers a bit. Detective Graves' words were getting to him fast. Did he know? If he knew why Matty wasn't in cuffs? Was Graves just pulling his leg, hoping he would confess?
Teddy led the way to his bike, saying nothing. Matty kept his eyes on the ground, replaying the conversation in his head—Graves’s suspicion, the way he’d paused, like he already knew the answers.
“Do you think he believed me?” Matty finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Teddy glanced back, frowning. “You told the truth. That’s what matters.”
Matty wanted to believe it. He swung onto the bike, clinging tighter than usual as Teddy pedaled them to a store. “Te-Teddy, why are w-we here…?” Teddy got off the bike and turned to face Matty. “We're getting you a journal!” Matty followed Teddy, getting off the bike and following him into the store.
“W-Why?” Matt's hands were caressing each other, a sign that Matty is more than nervous
Teddy shrugged and responded, “Whenever I feel big emotions, I usually write down what im feeling…It's helpful.”
Matty hesitated, unsure if a journal could really help. He’d always kept his feelings locked away, scared that if he wrote them down, someone might find out everything—the pain, the lies, the truth about Phil. But Teddy’s earnest expression made it hard to refuse.
Teddy led the way down the aisles, pausing in front of a display of colorful notebooks. “Pick whichever one you like,” he said softly. “It doesn’t have to be fancy. Just… something that feels right.”
Matty’s fingers hovered over a plain blue journal. It reminded him of his bag—the one he’d carried through the worst night of his life. He picked it up, running his thumb along the smooth cover.
“This one,” Matty whispered.
Teddy smiled. “Good choice. I’ll get us some pens, too.”
At the checkout, Teddy paid with a crumpled five-dollar bill. As they left the store, Matty hugged the journal to his chest. For the first time since everything happened, he felt a tiny spark of hope—a way to let some of the darkness out, even if it was just on paper.
As soon as they got home, they changed into comfy clothes since it was late, and then they went into Teddy's room. But as soon as they were settled down, Matty started to immediately write.
ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴀʟ,
ɪ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ɴᴏ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ. ᴛᴇᴅᴅʏ ꜱᴀʏꜱ ɪᴛ ʜᴇʟᴘꜱ ᴛᴏ ʀɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴍ ꜱᴄᴀɪʀᴅ.
ɪ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴ ʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴘʜɪʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀɴᴅᴘɪᴘᴇ. ɪ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴛᴇʟʟɪɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʙᴏᴅʏ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴍʏ ᴘᴀ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ɴᴏ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʟᴛ ɪꜱ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʙɪɢ ꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ꜱᴛᴜᴍᴀᴄᴋ. ᴛᴇᴅᴅʏ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ɴᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴᴅ. ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʜɪᴍ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴄᴀɴᴛ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ʜᴇ ʜᴀᴛᴇꜱ ᴍᴇ? ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ᴇᴠᴇʀʙᴏᴅʏ ᴅᴏᴇꜱ?
ɪ ᴡɪꜱʜ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴄᴜᴅ ɢᴏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡᴀꜱ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ. ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴘᴀ, ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴘʜɪʟ, ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴇꜱ. ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴅᴏɴᴛ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴡɪʟʟ. ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴇʟᴘ. ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɴᴏᴛ. ʙᴜᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ɴᴏᴡ ɪᴛꜱ ᴀʟʟ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴅᴏ.
—ᴍᴀᴛᴛʏ
Looking at the paper, Matty knew he had spelled a few words wrong; he wasn't the most educated. Neither was his handwriting eligible, but surprisingly, writing worked; Teddy was right!
But soon Matty started to become paranoid…what if someone found this? Would they report him? He needs a spot to hide this….but he couldn't do it right now since Teddy was too close. Matty snapped the journal closed, heart thumping in his chest. He slid it under his pillow, making sure it was hidden but still close. He glanced at Teddy, who was sprawled across the carpet with a comic book, humming quietly to himself. The house felt safer now, but Matty couldn’t shake the prickly anxiety crawling up his spine.
He tried to focus on the ordinary things: the hum of the air conditioner, the faint smell of toast from breakfast, the distant sound of Mrs. Uris talking on the phone. But every small noise made him jump. The guilt and fear wouldn’t let go.
Teddy glanced at Matty, then got up quietly and disappeared into the hallway. When he returned, he was holding a faded, battered shoebox. He sat cross-legged on the palette and opened the lid, revealing a jumble of treasures: ticket stubs, marbles, a small plastic dinosaur, a handful of foreign coins, and a worn Polaroid of two boys—one of them unmistakably Teddy, grinning with a missing tooth.
“I never show anybody this stuff,” Teddy said, pushing the box toward Matty. “Not even my cousin. But I want you to see.”
Matty hesitated, then reached in and picked up the dinosaur, rolling it between his fingers. “He-Hes’s cool,” he murmured.
Teddy smiled, cheeks a little pink. “T-Thank you.” He grabbed it from Matty's hand, but he didn't immediately pull away. He left his hand there for a moment.
The moment lingered between them, soft and strange. Matty felt a flush rise on his cheeks, a warmth blooming in his chest that he wasn’t sure how to name. He let his hand stay, just for a heartbeat longer, before drawing it back.
Teddy glanced away, rubbing his thumb over the dinosaur’s tail. “I know things are... depressing right now,” Teddy said quietly. “But I’m glad you’re here, even if it’s just for a little while.”
Matty swallowed, the lump in his throat making it hard to speak. “M-Me to-too,” he managed. “I— I don’t kn-know what I’d-d do with-without you.”
With a smile, Teddy looked away, face flushed but now determined. “You're okay with sharing the palette, right?” Matty nodded slowly. “Then would you mind…sharing a bed with me…?” As soon as the words came out of Teddy's mouth, both of their faces flushed a bright red.
“I-I u-uhh-uhhh s-sure!” Matty turned his head, face blushing. Teddy grinned, a shy, crooked tilt to his mouth. He stood up, making his way over to the bed, and patted a spot next to him. Matty hesitated for a heartbeat, clutching the journal that was wrapped in Matty's blanket to his chest, then crawled up beside Teddy. The mattress dipped under their combined weight.
For a while, neither spoke. Matty felt the warmth of Teddy’s arm pressed close, but didn’t move away. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—just heavy, filled with things neither of them could say out loud. Matty hugged the journal tighter, feeling Teddy’s quiet breathing beside him, and for the first time in days, his own heartbeat began to slow.
After a minute, Teddy’s voice broke the quiet. “You think you’ll write more in your journal?”
Matty nodded. “I-I th-think so. It… it helps. I’m just scared what’ll happen if anybody reads it.”
Teddy rolled onto his side, close enough that Matty could see the freckles on his nose. “You can hide it in my shoebox if you want. Nobody looks in there but me.”
Matty almost smiled. “Th-thank you, Teddy.”
Teddy shrugged, a little embarrassed. “It’s nothing. I just… I want you to feel safe here.” For a moment, neither spoke. Matty listened to the sound of Teddy’s breathing, the distant clatter of dishes in the kitchen, and let himself believe it was true.
Eventually, their eyes grew heavy. Matty turned toward the wall, finally lying down, and Teddy curled up behind him. He thought about Phil, about his mom, about what might happen tomorrow. But for tonight, he let himself drift, wrapped in the hush of a friend’s room, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could get better—even if only a little at a time.
…………
“KABOOM!”
Thunder rattled the windowpane. Matty woke up, droggily rubbing his eyes. Looking down, he noticed a warm feeling on his lower abdomen. Matty wiggled, then gently pulled the covers over, looked down at what it was, and saw that Teddy's hands were interlocked with one another and pressed firmly on his abdomen.
Matty held his breath, unsure if he should move or stay perfectly still.
“KABOOM!”
The thunder outside rolled again. loud. Matty hated storms. The reason why he didn't immediately react was that he was just waking up, Teddy’s hands were warm and oddly comforting, and he didn’t let go. Matty waited, heart thumping so loud he was sure Teddy could hear it.
He squirmed a bit, careful not to wake Teddy, but Teddy’s eyes fluttered open anyway. For a second, neither boy said a word. The room was heavy with the storm and the things left unsaid.
Teddy blinked sleepily, then realized where his hands were. His face flushed deep red, and he yanked them away, mumbling, “S-sorry. I—I must’ve grabbed you in my sleep.” Teddy sat up
Matty shook his head quickly and pushed himself up on his elbows. “I-it’s okay. I… I di-didn’t mind.-
“KABOOM!”
This time, the sound was louder, causing Matty to jump and accidentally swat Teddy's face, causing a crisp “CLAP” “Ugh Matty….ow” Teddy reached over and fiddled with the pull switch of the lamp until he was able to grab it.
“CLICK”
Teddy rubbed his cheek and turned to see that Matty's face was an expression of pure panic—eyes wide, lips trembling, his whole body tense as the next rumble of thunder vibrated through the room. For a second, neither boy moved. until Matty quickly turned over and smothered his face into the pillow.
Teddy softened, his own embarrassment fading. He scooted closer, voice gentle. “Hey, it’s fine, it doesn't sting that much.”
Matty shook his head quickly, but his fingers twisted in the blanket. Teddy raised his eyebrow and scooted closer. “What..?” Teddy looks around, and the only thing that could be an issue was the storm outside.
“Uhmmm, is it the storm?” Teddy poked the middle of Matty's back. “R-reminds me of….m-my dad…”
Teddy’s voice dropped to a hush. “Hey… It’s just thunder. I promise, no one’s going to hurt you here.” He hesitated, then placed a careful hand on Matty’s shoulder, warm and steady.
Matty tensed at first, but let himself relax under Teddy’s touch. He focused on the weight of Teddy’s hand, the steady rise and fall of his breath, the far-off sound of Mrs. Uris in the kitchen. After a few moments, Matty’s trembling slowed.
“I get scared too, sometimes,” Teddy whispered.
“You can hold my hand if you want.” He slid his hand down Matty's shoulder, placing his palm on top of Matty's closed fist.
Matty hesitated, then opend his hand. Their fingers tangled together, awkward at first, but then Matty squeezed tight. The storm outside raged, but inside, something in Matty began to settle. “Y-Your nice T-Teddy..Really,” Matty sat up, then lay back down, but this time his arms were around Teddy, bringing him with him.
“KABOOM!”
Matty was in pure bliss. The storm wasn't completely gone, but it was better than before. Matty clung to him, still trembling, but when he looked up, he noticed Teddy’s cheeks were a deep pink.
Matty looked up, brushing a lock of hair from his eyes. “You oka-okay?”
Teddy tried to answer, but his voice caught. He nodded, cheeks burning, eyes darting away from Matty’s. “Yeah. Just… you’re really close.”
Matty grinned, teasing. “Yo-You want me to move?”
“No!” Teddy blurted, then immediately covered his face with his hands. “I mean—no, it’s… It’s nice.”
Matty’s smile softened. “Lam-Lamp, please?”
With a raised eyebrow, Teddy asked, “Why can't you get it? I'm tired now.”
“W-Well your o-on to-top of me..” Matty gave a toothy grin.
At first, Teddy gave one back, but then his expression changed to something like seriousness mixed with worry. Without a warning, Teddy sat up, but didn't leave Matty's touch. Teddy was sitting upright in Matty's lap. Matty didn't have time to say anything when Teddy's hand grabbed his face and opend his mouth.
“Matty…” Teddys brows turned up right, his expression leaning more towards a worried expression, he tilted his head, his mouth turning to a sad pout. “Your teeth…” Teddy let go of Matty's face.
“Wh-What ab-about them..?” Matty fixed his posture as Teddy crossed his arms.
“Those aren't healthy… Matty, I know your family wasn't the most wealthy, but that is no excuse for your teeth looking like that. Did they tell you what to do when brushing your teeth, any rules they had?” Teddy gently put his hand on Matty's hair, giving it a sorrowful ruffle.
Letting out a sigh as he leaned into Teddy's hand, Matty explained. “Ye-Yeah, to on-only brush my te-teeth once a-a week..” Matty looked down, ashamed, “The-They said it would h-help them wi-with their m-money sp-spending habits..”
Teddy’s eyes widened. “Matty, that’s really not good for your teeth. You should brush them every day, twice if you can. But… It’s not your fault; no one told you, nor did you know any better”
Matty kept his eyes on the blanket, shoulders hunched. “I—I’m sorry.”
“Hey, you don’t need to be sorry.” Teddy scooted closer, voice gentle.
Matty shook his head, biting his lip. He reached into his bag and pulled out a toothbrush and some toothpaste. “I-I have th-these..” He held them out in his hand.
Teddy got off of Matty and leaned against the doorframe of the room, arms crossed with an easy grin. “Wanna learn now? I’m kind of a pro. My mom used to give out gold stars for the best brushers.”
Matty rolled his eyes, but the tension in his shoulders eased. “Go-Gold stars, h-huh? That’s a-a pr-pretty big de-deal." Matty got up and followed after him
Teddy led the way to the bathroom, flicking on the light. The sudden brightness made Matty squint, but Teddy was already rummaging in the cabinet, pulling out his own toothbrush for demonstration. “Okay,” Teddy said, holding up the brush like a stick, “first thing—just a little bit of toothpaste. Like this.” He squeezed a small dab onto the bristles and grinned. “You always wet it a bit, then brush in circles. Gentle—don’t hurt your gums. Top and bottom, front and back. And you gotta do it for two minutes. I’ll even time you.”
Hesitantly, Matty follows Teddy's instruction, a little bit of toothpaste, wet it, and brush in circles. Besides the last one, Matty is a little embarrassed; he doesn't want Teddy to see him like this, ever. Matty looks down at the floor.
“C-could you… um… wait outside?” he mumbled, eyes fixed on the floor. “Please?”
Teddy froze, surprised. Then he nodded quickly, setting the toothbrush and toothpaste on the edge of the sink. “Yeah, of course! I’ll just be right outside if you need me.” He gave Matty a reassuring smile before slipping out and pulling the door almost shut.
For a moment, Matty just stood there, listening to the muffled sounds of the house and the distant rumble of rain.
He squeezed a little more toothpaste onto the bristles, just in case that made a difference, and looked up at his reflection. His teeth weren’t as bright as he wanted, but he tried to remember everything Teddy had said—gentle circles, two full minutes, not too hard. He started brushing, counting in his head, letting the rhythmic motion and the minty taste distract him from everything else.
It was strange how something so small could feel like a new start. Matty focused on the brush, the foam bubbling in his mouth, the ache in his arm as he tried to keep going for as long as Teddy said. Somewhere outside, he heard Teddy’s voice—soft, humming a tune through the crack in the door. It made Matty smile, just barely.
When he finished, Matty rinsed the brush, spat into the sink, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He studied his reflection again, searching for signs of change. He still looked the same—haunted eyes, messy hair, and the same old bruises covering him.
Stepping out of the bathroom, Matty immediately encountered Teddy, just like he said, there he was, standing there.
A sly smirk appeared on Teddy's face. “How do you feel..?”
“C-Cleaner…I-I guess.” Matty rubbed the back of his neck.
They wandered back to Teddy’s room, the storm outside finally beginning to die down, leaving only the gentle patter of rain against the window. Matty glanced at the blue journal tucked under his pillow, thinking about what he might write next. Maybe not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.
As they settled onto the bed, Teddy pulled the blankets up around them. “He-Hey… you can f-finally ge-get the lamp..” Matty says, turning to his side to face Teddy. Rolling his eyes, Teddy grabbed the lamp's pull cord and clicked the lamp off.
The darkness settled, but this time it was softer—less like a blanket pressing down and more like a gentle shield from the outside world. The only sounds were the quiet rhythm of the rain and the slow, even breathing of two boys who had survived something unthinkable together. Matty stared at the shadowy ceiling, his thoughts swirling, but not as wild as before. He reached down, felt Teddy’s hand, and held it in the space between them.
For a long while, neither spoke. Matty let the silence fill him up, let it smooth the edges of his worry. The storm had faded outside, leaving the air fresh and cool, and the room felt safe again. He felt Teddy squeeze his hand, and Matty almost smiled.
Eventually, Teddy’s voice drifted through the dark. “You know, we could go to the standpipe tomorrow. Not for anything bad—just to say goodbye to Phil. I think he’d like that.”
Matty’s throat tightened; he needed this to be buried and stay buried. He wanted to protest, but he nodded, knowing Teddy would probe into why. “Yeah. I’d like that, too.”
Gradually, exhaustion overtook them, and Matty finally slipped into a dreamless sleep, the first in what felt like forever.
Morning came quietly, sunlight painting dappled patterns through the curtains. Matty woke to the sound of birds outside, Teddy still asleep, face buried in the pillow. For a moment, Matty just watched him, feeling strange and safe and a little guilty all at once.
He slipped quietly out of bed and padded out to the hallway to brush his teeth. He remembered what Teddy had said and started to brush his teeth.
Once he was done, he went down the stairs to the kitchen, where Mrs. Uris was already making breakfast. She smiled when she saw him. “Good morning, Matty. Did you sleep better?”
Matty nodded, taking a seat at the table. The clatter of pans, the smell of eggs, the ordinary morning sounds—they felt like a life from someone else’s story. He didn’t know if he belonged here, but for now, he was grateful.
Teddy eventually joined them, hair mussed, blinking sleepily, “Yawwwn. Morning Matty.” Teddy slid into the chair beside him. They ate in comfortable silence, interrupted only by Mrs. Uris gently fussing over them both. When breakfast was done, Teddy nudged Matty. “Ready?”
Matty swallowed the lump in his throat and hesitantly nodded. Together, they returned to Teddy's room. After they both finished changing, Matty quickly grabbed his journal and slipped out the door with Teddy, walking side by side toward the edge of town, toward the standpipe.
The walk was slow and quiet. The wind was blowing hard that day, and the grass was still wet from the night’s rain. When they reached the standpipe, they stood at the bottom, both of them were there for a while, neither one speaking. Finally, Teddy walked over to the opening of the stairs and started to climb.
“Ted-Teddy…are yo-you sure…we-were- aren't we tech-technically at a crim-crime scene..?” Matty told this to Teddy, hoping his mind would change at the last minute.
Looking behind himself, Teddy stood for a moment, then held his hand out, “Together, remember?”
His hand stayed there until Matty took it. “T-Together..”
Walking up the wooden steps, Matty had no choice but to face what he had done not so long ago.
At the top, Matty looked out over the neighborhood—the houses, the trees, the world that kept turning no matter what had happened. He closed his eyes and tried to remember Phil’s laugh, the way he used to talk about aliens and planes, all the things that made him more than just a memory.
Teddy stepped close. "Goodbye, Phil," he whispered, voice thick. Matty stood silent, his own goodbye caught between regret and guilt.
They stayed until the sun was high, looking at some of the old items Phil had left behind to collect dust, “God, I always knew Phil was overly into girls, but I never knew he would buy a Playboy magazine…how did he even get this?” Teddy picked up the magizen only for Matty to look over and slap it out of his hands.
“What was that for?” Teddy put his hands to his sides and turned to face Matty.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Matty responded “W-We dont kn-know what Ph-Phil did with th-that..”
Raising an eyebrow, Teddy decided to push further. He knew what Phil would do with it, but he just didn't care. It's how the world goes round in Teddy's mind. “How would you know?” Teddy's mouth turned to a sly smirk.
Matty's face turned red, his organs once again tying into knots as he stepped back. “Y-Y-You… know w-why, st-stop teas-teasing!”
Teddy laughed, his voice echoing in the empty standpipe. For a moment, it almost felt like things were normal again, like all the darkness hanging over them was just another story Phil might have made up.
But Teddy’s laughter faded, and he looked at Matty, softer this time. “C’mon, let’s get out of here before someone sees us.” He slipped the magazine back where they’d found it and reached out his hand. Matty hesitated, then took it, letting Teddy’s fingers curl around his own—warm and steady.
They made their way down the creaking stairs together, every step echoing with memories. At the bottom, Matty paused and glanced back at the standpipe. He whispered so softly only he could hear, “Bye, P-Phil...”
Walking along the sidewalk, Matty slowly let Teddy's hand free from his grip, allowing him to think for a moment until Teddy spoke up, “Wanna go to the...to the uhmm corner store?”
Teddy's face was red as he rubbed the back of his neck. “They ha-have nice stacks- I-I mean snacks! sorrysorry!” His words were fast, but that ultimately was the reason Matty decided to entertain his idea even though he knew Teddy knew they had no money.
“Why no-not.. I don’t se-see an issue.” Matty looked to see a slight smile appear on Teddy's face.
They headed down the street, the warm afternoon sun drying the last of the puddles on the sidewalk. The small corner store sat on the edge of the neighborhood, its faded red sign barely hanging on above the door. Matty pushed the door open, the bell overhead ringing out sharp and bright.
Inside, the air was cool and smelled faintly of old gum and licorice. Teddy immediately made a beeline for the snack aisle. “You sure you don’t mind?” he whispered, glancing over his shoulder.
Matty didn't respond and instead looked around. Once he realized no one was there besides him and Teddy, Matty quickly grabbed a package of Dots and lifted the leg of his pants before stuffing them into his left sock.
He smoothed his jeans back down like he'd done this a thousand times.
Teddy just stood there, clutching a bag of chips, staring at him. "Matty... are you... stealing?"
Matty glanced up, face hard. "Ye-Yeah. Just k-keep watch, ok-okay?"
"But—how do you even know how to do that?" Teddy's voice was barely a whisper, his eyes huge.
Matty shrugged, not meeting Teddy's gaze. "You le-learn stuf-stuff when yo-you have to. Some-Sometimes th-there's no mo-money for foo-food. Or any-anything." His voice was flat, like this was just another thing to get through.
Teddy felt his cheeks burn with shame and confusion. "I didn't know you—"
Matty cut him off. "Mo-Most peo-people don't. An-And I don't wan-want to t-talk abo-about it, ok-okay?” As Matty was about to grab another snack, he felt arms around him. “I understand, I won't talk about it, but I don't condone this.”
Matty tensed, torn between embarrassment and gratitude. He wriggled out of Teddy’s arms and shot him a look. “I can ta-take care of myself.”
Teddy bit his lip but didn’t argue. Instead, he glanced around, making sure no one saw. “Just… let’s get out of here before someone comes.”
Matty let out a sigh and nodded, his heart pounding. They slipped out of the aisle and made their way to the door,
Outside, Matty finally let out a shaky breath. He pulled the Dots from his sock and handed them to Teddy. “You can have ‘em. I— I don’t really want ‘em. Not anymore.”
Teddy hesitated, then took the candy and slipped it into his back pocket. “Let’s just go home, okay?” Matty nodded and followed Teddy's lead.
The walk back was quiet, and both boys were lost in their own thoughts. The sun was low now, casting long shadows across the cracked sidewalk. Matty kept his gaze fixed on his shoes, the weight of everything—Phil, the lies, the stolen candy—settling heavy in his chest. He wondered if things would ever feel normal again, or if every day would be haunted by what happened at the standpipe.
When they reached Teddy’s house, Mrs. Uris was waiting on the porch, arms folded. She looked at them both, her gaze sharp but not unkind.
“You boys were gone a while,” she said. “Everything alright?”
Teddy shot Matty a glance before nodding. “We just… needed some air. Walked around, that’s all.”
Mrs. Uris studied them for a moment, as if she could see right through to the truth. Finally, she sighed and opened the door. “Come in, you two. Wash up for dinner.”
Inside, the smell of roasted chicken filled the air. Matty’s stomach twisted—he hadn’t realized how hungry he was. He washed his hands in the bathroom, scrubbing longer than he needed, as if he could clean the guilt from under his fingernails.
At the dinner table, Teddy kept stealing glances at Matty, but didn’t say anything. Conversation was light—Mrs. Uris asked about their day. Mr. Uris told a story about work. For a little while, Matty almost forgot everything else.
After dinner, the boys retreated to Teddy’s room. Matty pulled out his journal. and began to write
ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴀʟ,
ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪ ᴡᴏᴋᴇ ᴜᴘ ɪɴ ᴛᴇᴅᴅʏ’ꜱ ʙᴇᴅ. ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴀᴛɪɴ ꜰᴀꜱᴛ. ɪ ᴛʀɪᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴡᴀᴋᴇ ʜɪᴍʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴋᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴀɴʏᴡᴀʏꜱ ᴡᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇɴ. ʜᴇ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ᴛᴇᴇᴛʜ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴏᴛ ᴜᴘ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱʜᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴍᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ʙʀᴜꜱʜ ᴍʏ ᴛᴇᴇᴛʜ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴛʜʀᴏᴏᴍ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪᴅᴅʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ.
ʜᴇ ꜱᴀɪᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴜꜱᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴄɪʀᴄʟᴇꜱ, ɴᴏᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴄʀᴜʙ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀᴛʜ. ᴍʏ ᴛᴇᴇᴛʜ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ʀᴇᴀʟʏ ᴄʟᴇᴀɴ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ. ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇᴅ ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴ ɪᴛ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʜɪᴍ. ᴡᴇ ᴡᴇɴᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇʟᴅ ʜᴀɴᴅꜱ. ɪ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ꜱᴀꜰᴇʀ. ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀʟᴋ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ʟɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ Qᴜɪᴇᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪꜱ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜɪɴ. ɪ ꜰᴇʟʟ ᴀꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ. ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴡᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴜᴘ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ, ɪ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ꜰᴇʟᴛ ʙᴀᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ꜱᴛᴜꜰꜰ, ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀꜱ ᴍᴜᴄʜ. ᴛᴇᴅᴅʏ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ɴɪᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ɢᴏɪɴ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀɴᴅᴘɪᴘᴇ. ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡᴇ ꜰᴏᴜɴ ᴏɴᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴘʜɪʟꜱ ʏᴜᴄᴋʏ ᴍᴀɢɪᴢɪɴꜱ…
ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇꜱ ɪ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴘʜɪʟ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ꜱɪᴄᴋ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛᴇᴅᴅʏ ʀᴏᴜɴᴅ. ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ ɪ’ʟʟ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ. ɪꜰ ɴᴏᴛ, ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀꜱᴛ ᴛᴇᴅᴅʏ’ꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ. ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʜɪᴍ.
—ᴍᴀᴛᴛʏ
Matty closed his book and crawled into Teddy's bed, where Teddy was already positioned comfortably, his stomach facing the mattress as he kicked his feet back and forth in a lazy, absentminded rhythm. The late evening sun painted golden rectangles across the walls, casting everything in a soft glow. Matty slid under the blankets, feeling the warmth left by Teddy's body heat
For a while, neither of them spoke. Teddy hummed softly, flipping through the pages of his comic book, and Matty watched the way the light traced the curve of Teddy's cheek, the gentle rise and fall of his back. Matty didn't know how to say what he was feeling, so he just let the silence stretch between them, comfortable and familiar.
After a moment, Teddy looked up. "Did you write something important tonight?" he asked, his voice quiet but curious.
Matty hesitated, then nodded. "I... I wro-wrote abo-about you. And about... every-everything."
Teddy smiled, a soft, lopsided grin. "You can always tell me, you know. Even if it's hard. I won't ever tell anyone your secrets."
Matty felt something loosen in his chest. He reached over and squeezed Teddy's hand. "I know."
The window rattled with a gust of wind, making the curtains flutter. Matty shivered and tucked himself closer to Teddy, who didn't move away. Instead, Teddy put his comic aside and rolled over to face Matty, propping his chin on his arm.
"Do you think things will ever go back to normal?" Matty murmured.
Teddy frowned, thinking. "I don't know. I think... maybe. Maybe not normal like before, but maybe a new kind of normal. One where we're okay, even if it's weird sometimes."
Matty thought about that for a long moment. "I ca-can live wit-with weird. A-As long as y-you're here."
Teddy reached over and ruffled Matty's hair. "I'm not going anywhere."
They lay together in the growing dusk, listening to the distant hum of cars outside and the low murmur of voices from downstairs. For the first time in a long while, Matty felt almost safe. He let his eyes drift shut, lulled by the sound of Teddy's breathing and the warmth of the covers.
Just before sleep claimed him, Matty whispered, "Th-Thank you, Ted-Teddy. For everythi-thing."
He wasn't sure if Teddy heard, but a moment later, he felt Teddy's hand squeeze his, gentle and reassuring. And as the last light faded from the room, Matty let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, things could still turn out all right.
The next morning dawned gray and slow, rain tapping at the windowpane. Matty woke first, curled tightly in the nest of blankets, and for a moment, he didn’t remember where he was. Then Teddy’s soft snore made him smile, and the ache in Matty’s chest eased just a little.
He slipped quietly out of bed, shimmying out of Teddy's grip, he set his feet down on the floor, and padded over to the window. The street below was empty, puddles shimmering with the first hints of sunshine. Matty pressed his forehead to the glass, letting the chill wake him up. The world outside looked cleaner—like maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could start fresh too.
Like the water cycle, water is recycled through evaporation, condensation, precipitation, and collection, continuously recycling water between the earth and the atmosphere.
He wishes he could just evaporate and be recycled so he can start anew, only if Matty didn't let Phil's words, he’d be here right now…
Behind him, Teddy stirred. “You’re up early,” he mumbled, voice raspy with sleep.
Matty jumped but then nodded, not trusting himself to speak yet. He turned and saw Teddy blinking at him, hair wild, eyes heavy. For a second, neither of them said anything. Then Teddy grinned, small and sleepy. “You want to go for a walk? My mom won’t mind if we leave a note.”
“W-We’ll get we-wet though..?” Matty turned his full attention to Teddy.
Teddy grinned, rolling out of bed, already halfway to the closet. “Only a little! S’just rain. Besides, I got extra raincoats.” He pulled out two rubbery jackets—one yellow, one blue—and tossed the blue one to Matty. “If we don't go anywhere, we’ll just stay in bed all day. And you’ll keep thinking too much.”
Matty caught the raincoat, running his fingers over the cool, waterproof fabric. “Is it-it… okay? A-Are we allo-allowed?” Teddy was already scribbling a quick note for his mom, neat block letters on a scrap of paper he ripped from one of his notebooks
“Went for a walk, back soon!”
—Teddy & Matty.
Slipping on his yellow raincoat, Teddy asked “You just gonna hold it or?” Matty looked up and hesitently nodded, but something deep inside him made him not want to.
If Phil doesn't get to enjoy the rain anymore, why should he? But he slipped it on, thinking, “If I’d just told the truth that day, maybe Phil would still be here,”
But that was impossible, which made Matty angry. None of it made sense; he didn't do anything to deserve something like this to happen to him. If anything, he's the victim, not Phil, not his dad. He deserves an apology.
“Let’s go,” Teddy said, smiling while grabbing Matty’s hand.
Matty looked away. “U-Uhh I ne-need to use the bat-bathroom, wa-wait for me, ok-okay?”
“Hmm? Ah- okay, I’ll wait outside, on the front porch.” He let go of Matty's hand as he left the room, taking the note he had made with him.
As soon as Matty couldn't see Teddy anymore, he grabbed his journal and started to write his anger, taking over, causing him to write down all he was feeling; he scribbled and jaggedly wrote.
ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴀʟ,
ᴛʜᴇʏ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀᴅ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍ. ɪ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ɢᴇᴛ ᴘʜɪʟ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀᴅ—ʜɪꜱ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ, ʜɪꜱ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ, ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴍᴇ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ.
ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ɪ’ᴍ ᴀ ʟɪᴀʀ. ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ ᴅɪᴅ. ɪ ᴘᴜꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴘʜɪʟ. ɪ ꜱᴀᴡ ʜɪꜱ ʙᴏᴅʏ ꜰᴀʟʟ. ɪ ᴛᴏʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀᴅ. ɪ ᴅɪᴅɴ’ᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ—ɪ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴀᴅ ʜᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀʏ. ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ʜɪᴍ ᴛᴏ ʜᴜʀᴛ, ᴛᴏᴏ. ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ʜɪᴍ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪ ꜱᴇᴇ ʜɪᴍ. ɪ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ɴᴏᴡ.
ɪ ᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ ᴘʜɪʟ. ɪ ʙʟᴀᴍᴇᴅ ᴍʏ ᴅᴀᴅ. ɪ’ᴍ ꜱᴏ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʙᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ɪɴꜱɪᴅᴇ ᴍᴇ. ɪ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘ. ɪ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ᴇᴀᴛ. ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴀʏ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛᴇᴅᴅʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪꜱ ɴɪᴄᴇ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ. ʙᴜᴛ ɪ’ᴍ ᴛᴏᴏ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ. ɪꜰ ɪ ꜱᴀʏ ɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ʟᴏᴜᴅ, ɪᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟ.
—ᴍᴀᴛᴛʏ
Once he finished, he threw the journal on the bed, not even bothering to close it.
He walked to the bathroom, washed his face, and stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The confession he’d just written still burned in his mind, like he’d carved it into his bones instead of onto a page. He splashed cold water over his cheeks, hoping it would rinse away the guilt, but nothing changed. He was still Matty. Still a liar. Still, the kid who pushed his crush's best friend to his death and let someone else take the blame.
Matty found Teddy waiting on the porch. “Took you long enough,” Teddy said, trying for a grin. “Race you to the end of the block?”
Matty tried to smile back. “Yo-You’d win.”
“Not if you start running now,” Teddy countered. He nudged Matty’s shoulder. For a moment, the world shrank to the sound of rain on the plastic hood, Teddy’s warm elbow brushing Matty’s arm, and the slick sidewalk under their sneakers. They walked together, neither saying much, but the quiet was less heavy than before.
At the corner, Teddy stopped and pointed. “Let’s go see the creek. I like how it looks when it rains.”
They ducked under a drooping pine tree and picked their way down the muddy slope. The creek was swollen, water rushing fast and brown, carrying sticks and bits of trash downstream. Teddy crouched and traced circles in the mud with a stick. Matty watched the water, feeling the journal’s words echo in his mind with every heartbeat.
“Do y-you ever wi-wish you c-could st-start over?” Matty asked quietly. The question slipped out before he could stop it.
Teddy looked up, surprised. “Sometimes. Like, move somewhere new and pretend you’re someone else?”
Matty nodded, watching a leaf spiral in the current. “Ye-Yeah. Or just… not b-be me for a while.”
Teddy’s face softened. “I don’t want you to be anyone else. Not really. Even if you’re sad or mad.”
Matty felt tears sting, but he blinked them away. “You do-don’t know ev-everything ab-about me.”
“I know enough.” Teddy tossed the stick into the creek. “You’re my best friend. That’s enough.”
For a while, they just listened to the rain and the rush of water. Matty squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he could let Teddy’s words wash over him like the creek—carry him somewhere far away, where the truth didn’t feel so sharp.
“Matty, there’s something I have to tell you.”
Matty turned, heart thudding. “What i-is it?”
Teddy’s cheeks colored, but he didn’t look away. “I… I like you. More than just a friend. I think I always have, I guess I was just scared to not tell you sooner since… we’re both guys and…”
The rain softened around them, the words hanging in the air.
Before Matty could speak, Teddy leaned over and pressed a quick, gentle kiss to Matty’s cheek. His lips were warm and trembling.
Teddy pulled back, eyes wide and vulnerable. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I just had to—” Matty wrapped his arms around Teddy, giving him a tight squeeze.
Matty's voice was barely above a whisper. “I li-like you too. I-I didn’t m-mind it… It w-was nice.” For the first time in days, Matty felt something lift inside him—a small, bright hope he hadn’t known he was missing.
His journal completely left his mind; he had all he needed now.
Hand in hand, Matty and Teddy lingered by the creek a little longer, letting the rain soak through their shoes. For the first time since that terrible day, the weight in Matty’s chest faded—never gone, but softer, like a bruise that would someday heal. He squeezed Teddy’s hand, holding on as if it might anchor him to this new beginning.
As the rain eased and the sky began to brighten, Teddy nudged Matty gently. “C’mon, let’s go home before my mom sends out a search party.”
Matty nodded, and together, they climbed back up the muddy slope, leaving the rushing water and tangled secrets behind. Each step felt lighter, steadier, as if the world was offering them another chance—one small, hopeful moment at a time.
Once they reached the house, the two of them immediately fell onto the couch after they took their raincoats off.
For a few minutes, neither said a word. Matty curled up at one end, his damp hair sticking to his forehead, feeling the exhaustion seep into his bones. Teddy sprawled beside him, arms flung wide, feet dangling over the edge. The house was quiet except for the faint rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. Teddy soon broke the lingering silence, “Wanna play a board game?”
Turning to look at Teddy, Matty responded with a laugh, “W-Why not!” Teddy smiled and got up. “Alright, I’ll get some from my room.” With that, Teddy walked off. Matty froze mid-laugh, the realization slamming into him like cold water—he’d left his notebook wide open on Teddy’s bed. His heart thudded. The last thing he’d written was sprawled across the page, raw and unfiltered, meant for his eyes only.
He shot to his feet before he could think, and he bolted up the stairs two at a time. At the top, he nearly collided with Teddy in the doorway. Teddy stood there, Matty’s blue notebook in his hands, eyes wide and uncertain. For a moment, neither of them spoke. “Matty…” Teddy said softly with a tremble, holding the notebook out like it was something fragile. “I just…” Matty’s stomach dropped. He wanted to snatch the notebook away, to erase the words now burning between them, but he couldn’t move. “I—I didn’t mean for you to see that,” Matty stammered, his voice small and desperate. Teddy took a step back, the notebook shaking in his hands. “Is it true? Did you really—” He broke off, as if the rest of the question was too much to say out loud.
Matty’s face burned with shame. He opened his mouth to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. The room was suddenly heavy, thick with the secret that could never be unsaid.
Teddy’s horrified gaze lingered on him, and Matty felt the distance between them grow into something vast and cold.
Without thinking, Matty grabbed the lamp and hit Teddy over the head with it.
Matty froze, the lamp still clutched in his trembling hands, its cord dangling like a broken lifeline. The base had connected with a sickening crack against the side of Teddy’s head. Teddy staggered back a step, eyes fluttering in shock, before his knees buckled and he crumpled to the floor. The blue notebook slipped from his fingers and landed splayed open beside him, pages fluttering like wounded birds. or a heartbeat, the only sound was Matty’s ragged breathing and the faint drip of blood from the lamp’s edge onto the carpet.
“O-Oh God,” Matty whispered, horror crashing over him in waves. He dropped the lamp with a clatter and fell to his knees beside Teddy, hands hovering uselessly over the growing bruise blooming at his temple. “Te-Teddy? Teddy, wak-wake up. I-I didn’t—I didn’t me-mean—”
Teddy groaned softly, eyelids twitching but not opening. A thin line of blood trickled down his cheek. Matty’s stomach twisted. Teddy was still on the ground, his grip on the journal weak. He needed to get rid of this thing.
He grabbed the book and walked to the bathroom, turned on the bathtub, and tossed the journal into the water. He walked out of the bathroom, not knowing that the journal was still available to whoever decided to look in the bathroom.
He rushed over to Teddy and crouched down next to him.
Matty’s hands were still hovering uselessly over Teddy’s bleeding temple when Teddy’s eyes snapped open, sharp with sudden clarity. The fog of the blow burned away as the words from the notebook slammed back into him. Fear and fury twisted across his face in equal measure. He shoved Matty hard in the chest with both hands, sending him stumbling backward. “You killed him?” Teddy’s voice shook—half snarl, half tremor—as he pushed himself up on shaky elbows. Blood ran down the side of his face. “I read it. You pushed Phil. You pushed him! And then you blamed your own dad. What the fuck, Matty?!”
Matty hit the floor, breath knocked out of him. Before he could speak, Teddy was on him, grabbing the front of his shirt with one trembling hand. His grip was tight, desperate, but his eyes were wide with terror. The lamp had left Teddy dizzy, yet the adrenaline kept him moving. In a surge of panic and shame, Matty bucked upward, trying to throw Teddy off his feet. Their bodies collided as they started to tussle, limbs tangling in a chaotic scramble. Teddy’s grip tightened on Matty’s shirt, refusing to let go even as fear flashed brighter in his eyes. Matty grabbed Teddy’s wrist, twisting desperately to break free, and the two of them rolled across the floor in a frantic, breathless struggle.
“Get off me!” Matty gasped, shoving hard.
Teddy snarled back, half-pushing, half-clinging, his other hand clawing at Matty’s shoulder. “You don’t get to run from this!” They crashed into the side table, knocking it over completely, and items scattered somewhere behind them. The fight carried them out of the bedroom doorway and into the upstairs hallway, a messy blur of shoving and grappling. They slammed against the hallway railing, the wooden banister creaking dangerously under the impact. Teddy’s back hit the railing first, his body half-bent over it as Matty’s momentum pushed them both closer to the edge. Below the stairs, there was the statue of the Menorah.
Teddy’s eyes widened with fresh terror, one hand still fisted in Matty’s shirt while the other gripped the railing for balance. Blood from his head wound smeared across Matty’s collar. “Matty—stop!” Teddy’s voice cracked, anger warring with raw fear as he teetered there, the drop yawning behind him. His feet slipped slightly on the carpet, sending a jolt through both of them. “You’re going to get us both killed!”
Matty didn't stop; he needed Teddy to keep his mouth shut. And he needed to make sure the truth stays buried, which means getting rid of its only source left, himself. Teddy was panicking, his anger now gone. Teddy was gonna die, he's only 13. Teddy grabbed one of the poles that were holding the railing up, hoping he could just break it off and defend himself.
That's when “Creack.” They both fell.
But only one fell all the way down.
Teddy opened his eyes.
So did Matty, but they were forced open by gravity and by the fact that Matty is dead.
Matty fell and hit his head on the stair railing, then his leg was impaled by one of the arms on the Menorah statue, causing him to be forcibly held upside down, as blood trickled down his leg.
Then there was Teddy, the pole he had grabbed from the railing broke, but wasn't completely broken, it was hanging by some wood, his right hand was the only thing that kept him up.
As Teddy’s grip began to slip, splinters digging into his palm, panic surged through him. Every muscle in his arm trembled with the effort to hold on. He tried not to look down, but the sight of Matty’s still form and the spreading pool of blood was impossible to ignore.
“Crack.”
The last fibers gave way. Teddy plummeted the remaining distance and hit the hard wooden floor with a heavy “Thud”. Pain exploded through his side and shoulder, but he was alive—gasping, coughing, rolling onto his back with a groan. His vision swam. The fall had knocked the wind out of him, and something in his ribs felt wrong, but he could still move. Still breathe.
For a long second, the house was silent except for the steady “Drip” of Matty’s blood hitting the floor nearby.
Teddy pushed himself up on one elbow, wincing, and stared at the nightmare above him. Matty hung there, unconscious, pale, leg grotesquely pierced and bleeding. The notebook’s confession echoed in Teddy’s head—Phil’s death, the lie about his dad, that started all of this.
Fear clawed at his chest. Anger burned hotter than the pain in his body.
Teddy crawled forward, leaving a smear of his own blood on the floor, and looked up at Matty’s still face. and tried to get up.
Teddy stumbled backward, barely registering the blood on his hands or the metallic tang in the air. He walked to the front of the house and opend the door. He left the door hanging open as he staggered out into the yard, his legs numb and unsteady beneath him.
The sunlight seemed too bright, the world impossibly normal. Somewhere, a dog barked. A car door slammed. He dropped to his knees on the grass, gasping for breath. His mind felt hollow—echoing with the memory of Matty’s eyes, open but unseeing, the slackness of his jaw. Teddy’s chest heaved, but no sound came out. He tried to scream, to call for help, but nothing happened. Not even tears. He pressed his bloody hands to the earth, grounding himself against something solid, something that wasn’t spinning out of control. His breath came in short, shuddering bursts. He could still feel the weight of Matty’s limp arm sliding from his grasp.
A neighbor’s footsteps crunched across the concrete drive. She was out tending her roses until she looked up and saw Teddy collapsed on the lawn. She hurried over, her gardening gloves still on, concern deepening into alarm as she saw the blood on his shirt and hands.
“Teddy? Oh my god—Teddy, what happened?” she asked, kneeling beside him.
Teddy just stared past her, lips parted, desperate for words that wouldn’t come. The world around him moved on, but for Teddy, time had stopped at the moment he realized Matty was gone. The neighbor peered anxiously toward the open front door. “Stay here, honey,” she told Teddy, but he barely heard her. She hurried inside, and then—her scream split the quiet afternoon like a boxcutter.
Within minutes, the house was swarming with sirens and shouts. Paramedics rushed to and past Teddy as he sat motionless on the grass, knees drawn to his chest, hands sticky and red.
Detective Graves arrived, lips pressed into a grim line, and knelt beside him, but Teddy couldn’t look at anyone—he couldn’t even speak. All he could do was rock gently, eyes fixed on a patch of dandelions at his feet, as voices blurred and spun around him.
Inside, they worked to free Matty from the Menorah statue. There was muttering, the clatter of tools, and then the heavy, final silence that always follows the worst kind of news. Mrs. Uris and her husband arrived, frantic, their faces breaking as they realized what had happened. Mrs. Uris tried to reach for Teddy, but he shrank away, numb and cold, unable to let anyone’s comfort in.
Eventually, Detective Graves crouched in front of him, voice gentle but urgent. “Teddy, can you hear me? We need to know what happened. Can you tell me, son?” Teddy’s lips parted, but all that came out was a breathy, broken whisper. “The…The blue journal, Matty killed Phil…” No tears were streaming down his face; he was too shocked, or maybe adrenaline was the only thing holding him up.
Eventually, he was placed on a gurney and rushed inside the ambulance. On the way to the hospital, he was in and out of consciousness.
The next thing he knows, a nurse’s gentle hands are cleaning his wounds from Matty and wrapping a blanket around his shoulders, as his parents are out in the hall. Teddy watched as the nurse left his hospital room. Teddy hoped he would catch a break until Detective Graves appeared at Teddy’s bedside, the blue journal tucked under his arm.
Graves starts his sentence. “Theodore Uris-”
“Teddy..I hate that name.” Teddy corrected
Graves cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, the blue journal balanced in his hands. “Teddy Uris,” he said, his voice careful, “I know you’re tired, but I need you to tell me what happened after you found Matty’s journal, just walk me through it.”
Teddy’s breath shook. “After I read it, I didn’t know what to think. Matty… he’d written things I never knew. I felt like I didn’t even know him anymore. When I confronted him, he looked so scared. I was angry—angrier than I’d ever been. We yelled. He shoved me. Next thing I knew, I was at the top of the stairs.”
He swallowed hard, eyes glistening. “I didn’t mean for any of it to happen.” Graves nodded, letting the silence stretch. “Sometimes, we can’t control what happens when things fall apart. But you’re safe here, Teddy. You did the right thing by telling the truth.”
Teddy wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I just want Matty back,” he whispered.
Graves stood and placed the journal gently on the nightstand. “Rest for now. I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”
Teddy began to think, and then, without him meaning to, he realized that he had completely forgotten that Matty was his boyfriend. The ache in his chest sharpened, flooding him with guilt and a longing so deep it felt like drowning.
Outside, the hospital was silent except for the distant beeping of monitors and the shuffling of nurses’ shoes on polished floors. Teddy curled up beneath the thin blanket, hugging his knees to his chest. His mind raced between memories: Matty’s awkward laugh, the warmth of his hand, the fear and secrets they’d shared in the dark. Now, every memory stung—bright and unbearable. He closed his eyes and tried to pretend Matty was still beside him: maybe asleep, maybe just quiet, maybe waiting for Teddy to reach out. Tears slipped silently down his cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he whispered to the empty room. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“I guess…I wish, I wish, I wish, you loved me less.”