The carriage lights flickered as the train sped through the tunnel. Matthew Williams, a 20 year old Canadian with chin length wavy blonde hair with one curl that refused to stay down, deep blue eyes and thin wire framed glasses perched on his nose glanced upwards nervously and wrung his hands together. He wore a white hoodie with '100% AUTHENTIC MAPLE SYRUP' printed on the front in red writing and blue jeans. Black converse shoes were planted firmly on the floor, white socks with polar bears on them peeking out of the gap between his shoes and pants. His brown messenger bag was on his lap, strap still situated comfortably around him. Al always did say that he was too worried, but Matthew couldn't help it! He was just always so scared that someone would steal something from him. Not that it mattered; no one seemed to notice him at all. Earlier that day he had gone to order a coffee and the waitress had skipped over him in the line. He had decided that it wasn't worth it anyway, and had just left.
Matthew owned and worked at a small café in the city two blocks away from his apartment, living with his half-brother Alfred in the city. Matthew was often mistaken for Alfred, even though he claimed they looked nothing alike. Alfred had shorter hair, also blonde, bright light blue eyes and a million-watt smile. His confidence levels were off the scales and he had a severe hero complex. Matthew was shy and soft-spoken, almost invisible to all but his brother and his best friend, a loud punk named Gilbert Beilschmidt who had taken to calling him Birdie, supposedly because he reminded Gil of his own pet canary, Gilbird. Their friendship had baffled both of the boys other friends, but that didn't stop Mattie and Gil.
At the moment, Matt was on his way home. Usually Alfred would be with him but he was out drinking with his partner Arthur, so Mattie was all alone. Normally he was okay with being alone, most people forgot him anyway, but tonight his paranoid streak was raising its ugly head more than usual and Mattie was on the verge of having a heart attack every time someone stepped near him.
At his stop Mattie had to restrain himself from sprinting off the train like a crazy person. He sped through the darkness in the pouring rain. Checking his watch, he realised that the train must have been delayed somewhat, as it was almost 10.00pm.
Finally reaching his apartment building he rummaged through his bag for the key, cold and clumsy fingers fumbling at the lock for what seemed like an eternity. He eventually slammed the door open, throwing his bag hap hazardously on the couch and rushing to his room to change his sopping wet clothes. He grabbed whatever he saw first, ending up with a pair of warm sweatpants and a hoodie that read 'CANADIAN AND PROUD'. His room was relatively tidy, ice hockey gear polished and set aside in a corner, Canadian flag adorning the wall above his bed. Quickly getting changed, throwing his saturated clothes in the laundry and grabbing a hand towel to dry his dripping hair Mattie padded into the kitchen, turning on the heater as he went. He made himself a steaming hot chocolate to the sound of rain pelting the building. Still quite cold he settled himself on the couch and flicked on the TV to some random trashy show. Mildly interested, he slowly leaned back, letting himself relax after a day of constant activity. After a few moments a knock at the door broke him from his thoughts. Confused, Mattie glanced at the clock on the wall. 10.45. Slowly he stood, the feeling of uneasiness from before returning. Alfred had said that he'd probably crash at Arthur's, and either way he had a key. Unless he had lost it, which happened quite a bit. Putting his hot chocolate on the coffee table, he silently walked over to the door.
Opening the door and peering out, Matthew's eyes widened. Standing in front of him were two absolutely drenched children. One looked about in his teens, the other a little younger .They had short black hair and looked unhealthily skinny beneath their torn and water-logged clothes. Their heads were bowed forward, eyes hidden beneath a straight black curtain of hair. Matthew felt an inexplicable feeling of dread, as if he needed to slam the door and run at any second. The older one, without looking up, spoke with a voice that sounded beyond his years and it makes Mattie shudder.
'My brother and I are stuck out in the rain. May we please come in to use your phone to call our parents?'
Matthew froze, a cold feeling creeping through him. He didn't know why, but he did not want to let these children into his house. He apologised, saying his phone didn't work, when in fact it was functioning perfectly well.
'I-I'm sorry, b-but my ph-phone isn't w-working. T-there's a g-gas sta-station down the r-road, though. I'm s-sorry.'
He silently cursed his stutter which got worse when he was scared. Matthew went to close the door, unnerved by the children who had yet to look at him. Just before the door was about to cut off his view of the children the elder spoke again.
'May we come in and use the restroom? It is raining and we would love to come in for a bit.'
Now Mattie was battling between instinct and logic. These children were soaked, asking politely for him to help them. What cold hearted person wouldn't help them? Yet they instigated a visceral fear in him that he couldn't shake. He couldn't bring himself to let them in.
'I-I'm sorry. R-really I am. I c-can give y-you directions t-to the gas s-station d-down the road.'
'We would really like to come in. Won't you let us come in.'
The youngest intoned, in a quiet voice. Then suddenly they both looked up at Matthew. That's when he saw the eyes. Pitch black all over, as if someone had scooped out both of the boys eyes and injected the sockets with ink as black as night. There's nothing there except emptiness.
Matthew let out a small yelp, lurched back, slamming the door shut and deadlocking it.
'W-w-what. . .'
By this stage Mattie is stumbling over to the phone on the kitchen bench, tears streaming down his face and shaking violently as he hurriedly punches in the only number that he has memorised so thoroughly that he doesn't have to even look at the keypad for. Holding the ringing phone to his ear he runs to his room, throwing the covers over him as choked sobs fill the small space.
After 5 rings the phone is answered,
'Ja, this is the awesome Gilbert speaking. . .'
'G-gil? C-can y-you. . .'
Gil cut him off at the sound of his voice.
'Mattie? What's the matter mein leibling? Did something happen? Do you want me to co-'
'NO! You can't. . .can't come! They might still be h-here. . .'
Matthew cringed at how desperate he sounded, but didn't pay it much thought.
'Mattie, who might still be there?'
Gil's voice was suddenly as sharp as a knife.
'I'm coming over right now. Don't worry, the awesome me will make sure you're safe!'
Matthew sat upright.
'But you might get-'
'Matthew, do you trust me?'
'Well, yes, but-'
'Then trust me to keep both of us awesome. You don't have to worry about a single thing. Just sit tight, you're at your place, ja?'
'…yes.'
'Gut. I'll be over as fast as I can.'
Matthew slumped down again, a battle between relief and fear for Gilbert swirling inside him.
