CH 1- Of Nightmares.

"Alright, boys!" Francis put the car in park in front of a tall, mint green beach house. Three moving trucks were already open, contents spread across the small lawn, and Arthur stood between two of them, directing the moving men on where to go with the furniture.
While Alfred jumped out, a mile long smile on his face, Matthew didn't move. He watched as Alfred hugged Arthur before picking up a few things and helping the moving men.
"Matthew…" Francis turned in his seat, and Matthew looked at him. "I know you don't want to be here-"
"You know, huh?" Matthew's voice was shaking.
"I know you'll miss your old school. But please, give this place a chance, because I know you'll love it." Francis smiled encouragingly, and went on when Matthew didn't reply. "The beach is beautiful, and Alfred has already gotten accepted onto the baseball team at the new highschool. Your father already has inspiration for his new book, and I'm ready to open the pastry shop as soon as I hire an assistant" Francis sighed. "Please give it a try, mon amour."
Matthew wordlessly slipped from the car, and picked up a few boxes for his room. He realized for the time, when he got his room set up as he liked it, that in comparison to Alfred, he didn't have much. Just a few hockey posters, his laptop, iPod, and several shelves stocked with books against Alfred's game console, his hundred or so games, laptop, phone, iPod, baseball gear, and several books of baseball cards. It wasn't beaus Arthur or Francis didn't pay attention to him. Matthew just didn't take an interest in things.
"Hey, Mattie, let's go to the beach!" Alfred yelled from his room, and Matthew shivered at the thought. He could see the beach perfectly from his window (they were right on the water, a small creek and bridge were all that set the yard and beach apart.) It wasn't friendly looking; the water was deep and dark and dangerous, and the island that the house sat on was well away from any other houses, but one could still walk the bridge to the road and go to the many other island homes. It was gray and windy, and palm trees swayed dangerously.
"I really don't want to," he replied as Alfred came into his room.
"C'mon, don't be like that," Alfred said. "You never go swimming with me at ho- at the old house."
"Home…" Matthew said the word bitterly. "At home."
"This is our home now. Home is where Arthur and Francis is… It's been that way for ten years, Mattie…" Alfred took a deep breath. "Why are you always so… Bitchy and moody and… Depressed all the time? You're freaking me out."
Matthew gave Alfred a wounded look, and turned away from him. "I'm not… I just don't like swimming."
"Or fishing, or-"
"Just go to the beach if you want to, Alfred, I need to get my books on the shelves and organized," Matthew said, cutting his twin off loudly.
"Alright…" Alfred turned and strode from the room. There was a rustle, and he disappeared down the stairs in his swimming trunks. The door on the first level slammed moments later, and Matthew felt the house fall blissfully silent; Francis and Arthur must have been outside with the movers.
Matthew spent an hour fixing his books the way he liked them: alphabetically by the title of the books. Then he went down to the kitchen to find something to eat. Alfred still hadn't returned from trying to teach himself to surf, and there was a note taped to the fridge.

Went to the grocery store, then to a furniture store. We will be home in a few hours. Love, Francis

Matthew fixed himself a sandwich, and when he had finished it, he decided to take a nap. The car ride had been tiring, and not at all as restful as he had hoped. He went to his room, closed the door, and was asleep by the time his head hit the pillow.

Matthew was shaking, trying to fend off hands as they ran down his body, making trails of unbearable hotness. His heart was pounding, not just from fear, but from something that he couldn't point out. He was sluggish, his thoughts not moving correctly except for one that moved around in his head at the speed of lightning. 'It hurts, they're hurting me, they're going to hurt me…'
The women were laughing, pulling at his clothes until he was naked and shivering, and trying to tell them to leave him alone. But they wouldn't, they kept touching him, and speaking to him in what he was sure they believed as sultry tones.
Then, as soon as the blackness that always covered his vision disappeared, he opens his eyes and his lungs are stinging, and he's trying to breathe but all he gets is water. Water pressing around him, freezing and crushing him, hands holding him down, and he opens his mouth and screams as they chant his name.
Matthew…
Matthew!

"MATTHEW!"
Matthew's throat seared as he sat up, gasping for breath as though he had been running. Alfred is standing over him, eyes wide and worried and he was dripping wet. In fact, so was Matthew, and he realized that he was shaking. Cold sweat… Nightmare…
"What happened, what's wrong?" Alfred asked, pressing a hand against Matthew's forehead.
"N-Nothing, Al…"
"Don't give me that… I heard you screaming from all the way in the water. Were you having another nightmare?" He asked, stroking Matthew's drenched hair out of his face.
"Yeah."
"What about?"
"Nothing… Nothing, Al, I just need to… Open a window. Go dry off, you're soaking wet…"
Alfred looked reluctant to leave his brother, but he stepped out and went to dry off.
Matthew took a deep breath and moved shakily to the window, and threw it open. As he did, he glanced at the sea, and noticed a white head bobbing not too far out from the beach. Or at least it looked like a white head, because as soon as Matthew had focused on it, it flipped out of sight with what looked like a flourish of a white tail.
"Hey, Mattie, we have dolphins!" Alfred called from next door. "You should come and see them, they really like people!"
"How do you know?" Matthew asked, turning away from the window.
"I felt one brush against me, and looked down just long enough to catch the tail zipping past."
"That's nice…" Matthew was still breathing heavily from the nightmare when Arthur and Francis came home and he was thankful that his brother kept quiet about the incident.