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Chapter 10
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There's something strange about bearing witness to this sort of ritual. For so many years, the words Arthur has spoken to them of otherworldly beings and precautions have been a continuous running gag between Matthew and his brother that now, in the midst of his own home, he sits patiently by Arthur's side and is quite put-off by watching things they once mocked become a different form of truth he is forced to accept.
Of course, recent events have more to do with that then the tinkering his half-brother does next to him.
It's quiet in the basement as Arthur does his work. It has been between both him and Matthew since the scene made in the hospital's parking lot the night before. Though for some reason, Matthew feels more stifled by the silence now in the confines of stone and aging wood than he had minutes before at breakfast; as though the dim surroundings mix ominously with the actions being performed right in front of him.
He's not quite sure what to make of it, nor does he particularly understand what is happening. To him, it seems Arthur does little more than spoon powders from jars lining the walls onto a slab of stone, one by one until he collects a rather impressive mound he then crushes together with a pedestal to make it all even finer, but somewhere along the line there is something happening that makes this special. He isn't sure what exactly, but he's more than willing to believe if for the sake of his twin.
"What are those?" he asks when from a jar kept unlabeled, Arthur brings out brittle black objects in the shape of leaves.
He receives no answer,not even so much as an acknowledgement from his brother. So, as Arthur goes about his business, Matthew finally tears himself away from the work station and allows his eyes to wander the room.
Something has changed since yesterday. He isn't certain as to what it is, but he knows there is something wrong with the room. It causes a frown to tug at his lips and the frustration of not being able to put his finger on the difference begins to settle inside him.
"It's the circle," Arthur says suddenly.
The sound of his voice cutting through the silence startles Matthew and has him jump in his seat, twisting himself around once more to face the other as he continues on with his work.
"I had to break it down after the mess you made of it," he continues. "Not exactly the neatest detective work, I would say."
Matthew instantly feels his cheeks heat with embarrassment; he must have been too much in hurry to notice where his steps landed during his escape. Rather than reply to the observation, he looks away again, turning his attention to a tall, clear bottle of bubbling red liquid. He instantly comes to the conclusion of not wanting to know what it is contained inside.
"Reach into that drawer there," Arthur tells him. "The one right beside you on the left, and bring out a single piece of the white cloth inside. And a bit of the purple ribbon."
Matthew follows the commands without hesitation. The drawer slides open easily and inside he finds an abundance of different colored cloths folded into neat piles, one right next to another, and off to the side is a tangle of different colored ribbons and yarns that are kept in a manner quite differently than the other items. He takes only a brief moment to contemplate the reasons behind this, but shrugs it off entirely in order to complete the task given to him.
The piece of cloth is picked out of the lot and handed over easily enough, but when it comes time to do the same for ribbon, it proves to be a bit more difficult. A particular set of matted red, blue, and purple strands are knotted together, forcing him to dig into it with tooth and nail to break them apart.
"Is this really necessary?" he asks. "To have them like this? Because-"
"Yes, Matthew, it is," Arthur interrupts. "And I don't really feel as though it is necessary to explain the reasoning behind that, so if you would please?"
Matthew doesn't bother to give the response anything more than an eyeroll as he tugs out another tight knot loose and hands over the purple ribbon. Arthur takes it without so much as a thank you and a particularly large frown marring his face. He moves quickly in scooping the ingredients from the slab of stone and spreading them in the very center of the cloth and folds it neatly into a small bag he ties off with the ribbon.
Arthur stays still after it's completed. He stares at the small bundle with a mixture of resignation and concern, and before Matthew has the chance to question any of it, he picks it up gently and rises from his seat. Arthur cradles it in his arms as he leaves his work station and walks back up the stairs into their home.
Matthew remains sitting even after Arthur opens the door and leaves through it back into the kitchen. He slowly shifts off from his seat and follows after with his eyes on the floor. Though there is no longer any chalk markings to be ruined, it's now ingrained in him to be wary all the same. He trots up the stairs and shuts the door behind him, looks for his older brother and does not see him.
"Arthur?" he calls, and he begins to wonder if he's already left the house in a rush for the hospital. He huffs at the thought of being forgotten and left behind as he makes for the hallway, but luckily enough he catches sight of Arthur through the window behind the table.
He approaches slowly, leans against one of the chairs surrounding the table, and peers through the panes. Arthur remains standing still in the middle of his garden. Their backyard consists of plants and flowers that have always seemed conventional and unconventional at the same time; roses, daisies, rosemary, thyme, nettles, witch hazel, lamb's ear, and the like, all planted by Arthur's mother and kept by him. He stands there, in the center of it all, and Matthew watches with bated breath as he lifts his arms and presents the little satchel to the warmth of the sun in open palms.
Matthew won't pretend to know exactly to what it is he's seeing, but through the many years of being taught superstitions and everything of the sort, he's knows well enough that whatever part of whatever ritual he's performing it must be of some kind of importance and leaves him alone. He pulls out the chair he leans on and waits. He makes no comment as to how long he is left to do so as Arthur re-enters the house, pocketing the small satchel into his slacks and it prompts the silence from before to envelope them again.
Even in the car, on their way to visit Alfred, the still quiet remains until Matthew begins to realize that the route they are travelling on does not lead to the hospital. The direction Arthur drives, is completely off route, but entirely familiar. Still it prompts him to question the obvious to begin the conversation.
"We're not going to the hospital, are we?" he asks.
Arthur replies a beat later, and with a simple, "Not yet."
Matthew stares at him, but such an action does not prompt anything more from the other and he resigns himself to sitting back into his seat as they continue on their way to Toris' home.
As they pull into the driveway, the surrounding area feels different than just yesterday. Matthew immediately chalks it up to the horrifying events that transpired just hours ago and he isn't quite sure what to make of it now. Especially when coming to exit the vehicle and the troubling emotion rolling in the pit of his stomach intensifies. He looks to Arthur and finds that he too is effected. He can see Arthur clench his fists at his sides and his jaw clench. There's an overall sense of hostility that surrounds him and it startles Matthew to realize such.
He's not sure how long he stands there watching his half-brother continuously go through the motions of tensing and relaxing again and again until he finally inhales a deep breath and lets it out slowly. It's only then that Arthur finally regains some semblance of control, as far as Matthew is able to tell, and looks as composed as he does normally.
"Matthew," he calls, "Matthew, how are you feeling?"
"How am I-? I feel fine, I guess."
Which is close to the truth; watching Arthur's odd sort of dilemma has kept the uncomfortable feeling throbbing inside of him at the back of his mind. Now though, with that bit of display gone, he's able to feel it again and with the way Arthur watches him, he's beginning to think that it shows.
"I'm fine," he repeats. "Really."
"You're certain?" Arthur pesters.
Matthew again, assures him that yes, he is absolutely fine, and the lie almost grows too intense to bear. It's as if it causes not only the uncomfortable tightness in his abdomen to intensify - the small bought of feeling something nauseous growing into something more painful, like a tight squeeze crushing his rib cage together to the point where he feels as though they may snap while at the same time bile threatens to creep up his throat.
"Fine," he manages to says. "All fine."
Arthur doesn't bite. His arms comes to cross across his chest, his stance turns into something defensive and in a slightly condescending tone he asks again, "Really?"
This in turn has Matthew snap.
"Yes! For fuck's sake, Arthur, I'm fucking fine!"
The minute the words leave his mouth, Matthew is brought down to his knees. He falls onto his hands and dry heaves as a nasty sweat begins to break out all over his skin.
"Listen to me." He brings a hand to rest behind Matthew's head. "Matthew, listen to me and do exactly as I say, I want you to take a deep breath. Do you hear me? Take a deep breath, yes, like that, good. Now then, concentrate on good things, preferably ones that involve Toris or anyone else that may live in this house."
He does what he's told, inhales sharply and exhales the same way while trying to tame his thoughts. It takes some time, but eventually the illness passes him and he's able to stand again with Arthur's help. His breathing still feels shallow, and there's a slow burn building in his belly, as if it were just another typical stomach ache.
"What just happened?" he asks.
"Toris must have put something up," says Arthur. "Something to keep him safe. Keep anything wanting to hurt him away."
It makes sense, but at the same time...
"So why us? Why attack us?"
"Don't be daft, nothing attacked us, it's our own doing."
Before he's able to question his words, Arthur turns to him with a grave expression. There is nothing but sincerity in his voice when he says, "Admit that you too are angry with him for not being able to provide better protection for your brother, and you'll find that your health will benefit from it greatly."
Matthew is about to deny such a thing, but he hesitates. He feels the impending sense of ill health looming over him should he even think of denying such feelings. Perhaps, he can confess to himself at least, he had hoped for a better outcome, and did, in a way, lay some of the blame on Toris. For being so full of promise, and for failing. Maybe even at Feliks for not being at the hospital with them, as petty as that sounds...
He's not able to dwell much on the sudden influx of emotions and buried feelings towards his friends as Arthur leaves his side for the front door. The first step feels too heavy to be natural but Matthew preservers all the same. Arthur reaches the door first and knocks as he comes to stand behind him.
It takes another round of knocking and an attempt at the doorbell before their call is answered.
Feliks pulls the door open, looking as if he hasn't slept all night, quite haggard in a pair of jeans and an old worn out shirt. Which is probably the truth, as Matthew remembers that not only his brother was harmed. Any anger or resentment that could have been hiding away in the depths of himself is brushed off and a tremendous feeling of guilt resides heavy at the bottom of his stomach. He can't believe he was honestly being so selfish.
His brows furrow only the slightest bit at the sight of the two on his doorstep, but whatever it is that crosses his mind is ignore with the quiet greeting of a simple, "Hey."
"How are you guys doing?" The question slips out of Matthew like nothing.
Arthur begins to tap his foot, growing impatient, but Feliks takes the opportunity to lean up against the door frame and runs a hand through his hair.
"I was able to clean up a lot while Toris slept. The other two completely bailed on me, Raivis doesn't even wanna come home anymore but whatever. Mostly I've just been like, watching over him and stuff. He's not bleeding too much or anything anymore so that's like really good."
It doesn't ease too much, but hearing that his friend is on the mend is able to put a small smile on his face. "That's good."
Feliks only shrugs. "Yeah, I guess. But anyway, he totally told me to let you guys in, so..."
This admission seems to surprise Arthur, as he asks, "He knew we were coming?"
Moving away from the door, Feliks steps back to give them a wide enough berth to enter the house. He does so while saying, "I don't think so, but when you guys were knocking on the door like the police or something he just like, told me to let you in and bring you upstairs."
As if that's all that needs to be said, he steps back even further. It's an even clearer indication to come inside, and Arthur takes it with Matthew following close behind.
The house is eerily quiet and Matthew is reminded on how his own home felt when breaking into Arthur's basement. The rooms are dark despite the hour, and if he looks down the hall, he can see the room they used covered with curtains and spill a fraction of light from beneath them. A creaking calls his attention and he turns to see both Feliks and Arthur start to trek up the staircase. He spares one last glance down the hall before following after.
Feliks leads them up to what he assumes to be Toris' bedroom. He opens the door, and true to his assumption, it is his bedroom, but it's not the first thing he notices.
Matthew almost lets out a sharp gasp, only able to contain it by quickly putting his hand to his mouth. Toris remains still on his stomach, lying like a plank of wood on his own bed and surrounded by little comforts; a pitcher of water, a box of snacks, and an obvious spot of blankets and pillows bunched in the corner of the room where Feliks has set up camp. The sweat pants he wears hang low on his hips, he wears no shirt, and the entirety of his back is bandaged tightly with white gauze that stains red in some places. His eyes have heavy bags and his face is paler than Matthew has every seen before. Yes despite his appearance, he greets his guests with as wide as a smile as he can manage.
It's all he gives to Matthew, and as his eyes turn towards Arthur, a bit of the warmth in his eyes melts away as it's replaced with something harder, more professional.
"Hello, Arthur," he says. "I was wondering when I would be seeing you."
Matthew wonders for a brief moment if he should interfere in anyway; if he should try to deter the conversation to a topic that could prove less hostile such as his own well being. He takes to long in making his decision, all the same.
"Yes, well, first and foremost," says Arthur, "I came for my books."
Toris looks to Feliks and with a slight nod the other leaves his bedside and makes his way for the bookcase nearby. Matthew does not miss the the disgusted looking sneer Feliks makes before picking up what could only be the two volumes wrapped in a swatch of purple suede. He quickly hands them over to Arthur, who in turn shows his thanks with a nod of his own.
"Thank you for taking care with them," he says
"Once I realized what they were really made from I had Feliks wrap them for me."
There's no hiding the shiver of disgust that passes through Feliks and Matthew catches it from the corner of his eye. He has to ask. "What.. What are they made from?"
There is, however, no hesitation as Arthur answers. "Human flesh."
The color drains from his face. "I touched them!"
"Well let that be a lesson for you to keep out of my things!"
"Why do you have books made out of people?! What the fuck?! Are you like Hannibal now?!"
"They're old books, Matthew," Toris interrupts. "Arthur didn't skin anyone."
"How the hell do you even know what they're made out of?" He isn't too excited anymore, but the idea that someone as docile looking as Toris would have knowledge over something as gruesome as knowing when something is made form human flesh is unsettling at best.
"Are you seriously going to ask that after everything I told you guys last night?"
It's a valid question and keeps Matthew from saying anything further. Arthur, however, takes advantage of his half-brother's silence and picks up the conversation.
"Speaking of last night," he begins, and Toris averts his eyes downwards, almost looking slightly ashamed, "I would like to know what exactly it was that happened."
"I'm sorry," Toris says instantly. "I didn't intend for anything like that this to happen. I really did want the best to come out of this."
Matthew takes a chance to look at Arthur, only to find his expression to be softer than he anticipated. He shows nothing, but the lines of his face are not as hard as they were at the hospital last night, and it's honestly a bit surprising.
"I understand that," he replies. "And by the looks of things, you've already paid for your actions, so there isn't any reason for me to say anything else on that matter. Though I would like to ask what made you believe you'd be able to host such an event."
"I'm- I'm not completely in the stupid about any of this. I've done things before, once before, I know my way around the other planes, I know holidays, and ceremonies, and traditions, and superstitions, and origins, I do know them."
His words are defensive, and sharpness in his eyes tell that he does not speak lies. Still, once before, and even without knowing the same failed outcome of that event, it's not enough experience, and Arthur is sure to tell him. Though Toris already knows.
He clutches at the blanket bunched underneath, the muscles in his back flex and it causes some obvious discomfort if the sudden grimace that crosses his face is any indication. Arthur tucks his books underneath his arm and approaches him. Matthew stands still beside Feliks, and like the other blond, watches the older man's movements with great focus. He kneels beside him, looks over the bandages around his torso and a noticeable frown mars his face.
"Do you mind if I take a look at your wounds?" he asks, and Toris gives him permission.
"I just changed those," Feliks pouts, though no one other than Matthew pays him any mind.
Arthur makes quick work of revealing the wounds wrapped by using a small pair of scissors left on the night stand. Again, Matthew has the hold back any sounds made at the revelation.
Though no longer bleeding profusely, the lines gouged down Toris' back are flushed bright red against his pale complexion. There are still trails of blood falling from the places that were opened too wide and sewn together with makeshift stitches. Matthew sees Feliks' hands twitch and thinks to himself on how he was made to do those stitches, considers himself lucky with how he was able to get his brother into the care of professionals and how Feliks is not so lucky with the panic attacks Toris started to go through with just so much as stepping outside. How he could forget the other shouts and crying that went on in the background of him and Gilbert stuffing Alfred into their car, he doesn't even know.
It makes him feel like even more of an ass, thinking about how they had abandoned Feliks, not the other way around.
While he internalizes all of this, Arthur himself is just as horrified with what he sees. "What on earth did you conjure last night?"
"It isn't what you think," says Toris. "It wasn't something we summoned, but rather something that had been haunting Alfred, and we wanted to find the reason out behind it. We wanted to find out why, so that we could make it stop."
His words still Arthur's observations and has him move to the front of the bed, kneeling before Toris and asking as politely as possible for a clearer explanation. Toris appears a bit apprehensive at first, though eventually he tells Arthur everything.
"Feliks called me yesterday in the morning, said that something was attacking Alfred in his sleep, and that it had dragged him into the bathroom and ripped his shirt off."
Arthur snaps his head back to glare at Matthew and Feliks, demands to know if what Toris says is true and when they both confirm that this has been an ongoing phenomenon, they receive a twisted frown that remains in place as he looks back to Toris and gestures for him to continue.
"I thought that maybe it had to be something just a bit malevolent. I mean, if it was anything too fatal or dangerous, it would have done something right away instead of dragging it out like this, right? So I had them come over, I thought that with precautions we'd be okay, we'd be able to stop whatever, maybe even use a book of yours to expel it... But then I saw what they brought over."
Again, Arthur turns to the two standing by, only this time he focuses only on Matthew. "What did you bring over?"
"It was a box of things left at the thrift store," Matthew tells him. "It was a bunch of candles, some books, some clothes, and a ouija board. We... we played with it the night we got it, and that's when Alfred said it all started so we just, we just brought it over to use since we figured it was connected to that much..."
He's as sheepish as possible when he admits this, but Arthur still looks livid.
"A ouija board?! A used board at that?! How could-? Did you honestly not learn-?"
He cuts himself off constantly, does his best to keep his temper in check and eventually gives his attention back to Toris and asks, "So you conjured a malevolent spirit attached the board, is that what it was?"
"No," says Toris as he shakes his head. "No, it wasn't a ghost, or just some form of spirit, and I think... I don't think it's any kind of normal demonic something."
"What do you mean?" presses Arthur.
"I've encountered this before," he says. "A long time ago, when I was still just a kid. And not just something like this, it was the exact same thing. I know the girl who owned that board before, I know that whatever it is that's attached itself to Alfred is the same one that did the same damn thing to me all those years ago. It doesn't like me."
"Obviously." Arthur stands back up with a clear aura of determination. "The girls who owned all of this before, who is she?"
"Her name was Natalya. Natalya Arlovskaya. She's dead now though."
"Convenient." Arthur says it with some amusement, as though he honestly didn't believe that it would be that easy to track a source. "What about family?"
"Her mother left the family, cut off all ties. Her father's dead too, and her sister's moved. She's the one that told me, we lost touch with each other after she dropped out. I don't know where she is now though."
"What's her sister's name?"
"Katy. Katherine. That's what she goes by, I don't think that's her real name, but it's all I know."
"Better to start there then from nothing."
Feliks steps forward towards the bed. "So is it like cool if I wrap his back up again, I don't like it being out like this when it's still healing and everything."
"Oh, yes," Arthur tells him. "Sorry about that."
Feliks doesn't bother to give him a reply, he only moves quickly enough to gather the supplies he'll need for his task.
"I'm surprised you were able to start healing at this rate," Arthur comments and moves aside for Feliks to replace the bandages with fresh ones.
"Oh my glob, no, like me too," says Feliks. "Because seriously Toris, you were like burning up for forever and an age I was about to call 911 or something."
"How hot was he?" asks Matthew, and to this Feliks shrugs.
"I don't even know, he just completely passed out after I was able to clean up all of the blood and started stitching him up."
"You should have gone to hospital," says Arthur in that same scolding tone he's used over the years with Alfred and Matthew. "Staying here was entirely reckless."
"He gets total major panic attacks sometimes when he walks out," Feliks defends. "It's not his fault."
"Then someone should have been called."
"Hey, at least he's fine now," Matthew interrupts. "And obviously it wasn't that bad if he's like this."
He says it with as much conviction as he can muster, though it appears to have a different effect on Arthur. He turns away and gives both Toris and Feliks a considerate observation, as though he's trying to fit together a puzzle.
"Feliks," he calls. "Just how high was Toris' fever? I don't recall you ever saying."
"Huh?" Feliks pauses mid-wrap to look at Arthur. He blinks at the question and when finally remembering the answer, he says, "Oh my glob, I like so can't even describe it. Like I'm pretty sure if I shoved him in a bathtub it would have filled up like nothing in minutes, he was sweating so much. Actually, it was really gross when I think about it. Huh, guess I was totally just more worried about the blood and all that to care to much or whatever..."
Arthur approaches the bed again and with his curiosity piqued, so does Matthew. As Feliks continues to bandage and wrap his wounds, Arthur bends closer for a more clear examination. His finger travels up and down the angry welts surrounding the deep gashes cross stitched shabbily and quickly to the more shallow ones that are already on the path of being completely healed.
"How much blood was loss?" asks Arthur.
"What does that matter?" Matthew asks in return.
"Humor me," comes the reply, and he looks to Feliks for an answer.
"Okay, so I can't give you like an exact amount, it was literally gushing everywhere," says Feliks. "Like in case you could tell, there's still a lot of blood splotches on the carpet around us."
They both take a gander at the carpet and yes, true to Feliks' word the dark brown color is splotched darker in places where blood has fallen. To Matthew, it seems normal, but as his eyes fall to Arthur, it obvious that something is the matter with how long he takes in giving what should have been a quick look over. He watches Arthur go back and forth between the stains and the wounds that are rapidly being covered.
"You're not weak enough," he finally says, and to whom it's directed is obvious.
"I can't move from the bed right now," says Toris. "I think that's pretty weak."
"No. No, with the fever, as exaggerated as it may have been in description, and this amount of loss blood... No, you are paler than what should be normal, but you are definitely not suffering from it. You look as though you've been properly looks at, given blood transfusions, and IV drip and everything..."
Arthur trails off for the second time and an odd contemplative sort of look crosses his face before it crumples into a grim epiphany. He steps back from Toris, away from Feliks, and even puts space between him and Matthew.
"You bound yourself to Alfred, didn't you?"
Matthew's eyes go from Arthur's accusatory gaze to Toris' guilty aversion. Much like everything else that's happened thus far, he doesn't understand, and he voices as much. He goes unnoticed, unheard. Toris is all eyes on his half-brother, and Arthur remains standing strong, silently demanding a reason to be given to him.
"I was in perfect health when we started," Toris explains. "Alfred was in some pretty bad shape, I thought it would be better for him to go in with a lifeline."
"A binding is not a one-way street!" Arthur's voice grows loud, has them all flinch. "It's no wonder your fever was too high and you almost bled out entirely, the damage Alfred received reflected on you as well, if he hadn't made it- You would be dead by now, do you realize this?! If Alfred was ill looking before you started, already that transferred to you. You do know this is a permanent bond, you cannot reverse this, not even someone of my caliber can reverse this, this is something that could kill you-"
"Yes!" Toris cuts in sharply. "Yes, I know. I know what I did has consequences, but I thought it was for the best, and I took it anyway. I took it so that I could save my friend."
Still, Arthur shakes his head in disbelief. "All of you, all of you just do not understand... You say that you know what
"Yes."
"How do you know."
"My mother. I'm pretty sure that's why she died."
"Who did she bind herself to?"
"That I don't know. She often left the house late at night and would come home in an hour or two, but I never asked and she never told me."
Arthur sighs and steps back one, even goes as far as to run a hand through his hair as he mutters more to himself, "They never do."
He clears his throat, appears to have allowed the anger seep from his own person before addressing Toris once more. "I would like to have whatever it is that was brought here. To keep locked away and examined. I'll need as much as I can gather if I'm to solve any of this."
"Yeah, of course. Feliks will help you with it, right?" Toris turns his head back to see Feliks nod in agreement. Honestly, Matthew thinks at this point, Feliks will do anything Toris asks of him.
"Lemme just finish wrapping you up, and I'll help it take it out," he says. "I'll totally be sleeping better once that crazy shizz is outta my house."
It doesn't take him much longer, and soon enough, Feliks is putting the medical supplies back where they belong and is announcing to them all that he'll show Arthur where everything they brought last night still resides. Before he leaves the room, Arthur calls back to Toris, in both meaning to say goodbye and for one last request.
"Keep a good record of your health, will you? I'd like to monitor it myself and compare it to Alfred's."
He receives a promise from Toris to do so, and even an invitation to return should he need any further information Toris may provide. Arthur thanks him and follows Feliks' lead back down to the lower level, leaving Matthew with Toris alone.
"I'm sorry," he says after a moment passes between them. He means it sincerely, but Toris brushes it off.
"It's not your fault," Toris replies. "I wanted to do this, I know how dangerous it can be, I underestimated what would happen, and this is what I get. If anyone's sorry, I am. Please tell Alfred that when you see him."
Matthew nods, says goodbye and leaves the room. He makes his way down the stairs and instead of following the hallway into the back room, he waits by the door while Arthur collects the box and all of it's items for whatever it is he needs. He's glad that it doesn't take long.
Feliks sees them out the door, both him and Matthew exchange a round of goodbyes and the promises to keep in touch through everything happening as Arthur loads the trunk with the box of things he's collected from the room. It goes unsaid that so long as Toris remains bed ridden, it's clear that Feliks will remain by his side. As of now he's unofficially retired from their group, and Matthew makes the passing comment of this truth after they've left the house and begin the drive over to the hospital.
"Just as well," says Arthur. "The rest of your friends too, I meant what I said, it's best if they all just stay out of this affair. It'll be a lot easier for me to clean up without so many hands in the way."
His argument causes Matthew some exasperation, and he feels the need to defend his friends.
"They can help us," he says. "Somehow, I don't know yet, but they can in some way. I know they would want to."
"I don't doubt their conviction to do so, Matthew, what I doubt is their performance. Outside of Toris, none of you know how to deal with any of this."
"But they will want to help, in any way you tell them, at least keep that in mind."
"Maybe. But again, none of you know how to deal with any of this."
The repeated truth of the statement hits him hard. Even with all their tenacity of how helpful they may wish to be despite their lack of any understanding in this subject that could very well much be a major handicap. At least that's what he thinks. It almost makes him want to break out into a smile; the incredulity of needing to have an expansive amount of knowledge in a subject like this. Who would have known?
The amusement must show through onto his face somehow, as he receives a side eye from Arthur as they drive.
"What? What is it now?"
He's unsure how to explain his thoughts, and in the end he simply tells Arthur what he has just been thinking.
"Nothing. It's nothing, just... All of this was just a joke to us. To me and Alfred, a running gag, none of this was supposed to be real."
"Just because to you, Matthew, some things appear to be unbelievable does not mean they are. I taught you boys the basics of the world I've immersed myself into in the hopes that you'd be more mindful and more respectful. Clearly, that didn't go the way I would have liked." Another side glance. "Keep in mind, however, that just because you cannot see the things I can, does not mean they don't exist. My reality is very different from yours."
The car goes silent once more. There's not a peep between them, not even when finally entering the hospital parking lot.
The sterile scent fills his senses once more upon entering the building, and the only reason he does not feel the same anxiety as he had last night is because he knows that Alfred is in no immediate danger. He figures that with the 24/7 surveillance of all those working in the hospital, all of whom keep an eye on patients, he would be allowed to finally rest and heal. The only excitement he beings to feel when travelling up the elevator to the room their directed to is from finally being able to see Alfred after such a harrowing experience.
They find the room easily enough, and the door is propped open much to his pleasure. He knocks against the door frame and steps into the room, instantly calls Alfred's attention and smiles.
Alfred face lights up when seeing Matthew, but the moment Arthur steps in behind him it crumples into a dark expression that Matthew didn't even think possible to see on his brother's face. He swears something cracks in the air, turns the atmosphere around them heavy and tense. It worries him, even more so when seeing Arthur's matching expression.
With a heavy sigh, he closes the door behind him. Voices will be raised, he just knows it, but he'll do whatever to keep things as private between them for as long as possible.
xxx
-I so did not mean to not update for so long I swear on my third Harry Potter book I really didn't I am SO SORRY! ;A;
-And on top of that no smexy times! D:
-Mostly because Alfred wasn't even in this chapter all that much but because we started some mystery solving work. So we'll do a time skip in the next chapter and see what happens then. I mean, it's gonna happen. Like it kinda has to because plot reasons... spoilers.
-But yeah, yay! I am back and I can focus on Lullaby full time again! Hopefully we'll get back into the swing of weekly updates!
-Because we still have a bit to go, we've got some detective work, smut, and more hauntings to happen before it ends.
-So yeah, I will see you lovelies soon. Stay shiny, stay beautiful. -hearts-