I avoided walking around Matthew's door as much as I could for the next week, which was -to say the least- excruciating. I wanted to talk to Matthew, to tell him what Alfred said and have him disprove his ugly words. I was scared though; I didn't want to ask Matthew because I didn't know if Matthew wasn't a murderer. I didn't want to believe it for a second but the thought kept popping into my head. Matthew was in the hospital for a reason, what if he had killed someone when he was younger and was condemned to live in the hospital for the rest of his life?
There were too many unfinished ends, too many questions that seemed to be forever unanswered.
Ivan had murdered someone, I am sure in a horrific way, but he got to go outside, he had a window he could look out. Ivan was able to see and visit with people on the outside. Matthew was cut off from all luxuries. Was he really that dangerous?
I walked down the hallway with these thoughts running through my head when I was startled to attention at the call of my name.
"Gilbert!" I spun around, my eyes locking on Matthew's open door. I hadn't even realized I had walked past.
I let my eyes trail onto Matthew, who stood in the hallway, balancing on one crutch. He had a pleading, desperate look in his eyes, his hands were clenched and I could see them shaking from where I was standing. He glanced down the hall in a frightened, caged way and limped forward towards me.
"Birdie?" I whispered, then scolded myself for using the name when referring to him. Familiarity was something I wouldn't need nor use. Matthew swayed to a stop a few feet away from me, the anguished look never leaving his eyes.
"Please. Please don't-" Matthew struggled with the words horribly, his eyes closing so tightly I thought he might hurt himself.
"Don't leave." He whispered, "please, please, don't leave me." He whimpered then looked around again, watching for his brother to come I guessed.
I watched him with wide eyes. It was really one of the most expressive displays I had ever seen him exhibit. He stood trembling before me, never looking so weak and hopeless and I could only watch while my heart broke into a thousand pieces; it physically hurt to see him in such a state.
"I- I'm sorry. Sorry. Sorry." He pleaded then stumbled back to his room, he didn't want to leave. He wanted to stay out in the hallway with me, but he couldn't take the chance. I could see it in his desperate eyes. I am sorry.
He said it with such feeling. Had he ever been this impassioned before?
I strode to the door and pulled it open almost throwing myself inside. Matthew was huddled in a ball on the floor in the corner, looking so incredibly small and jumped when he heard me enter.
"Birdie." I murmured, I didn't know if he could hear me though as he kept his head down.
I walked slowly towards the trembling blonde and crouched down to him, making sure I was not any higher than he was. He didn't need to feel intimidated by me when he had put himself in such a vulnerable situation.
"I am sorry." I said, and his head jerked to look at me. The disbelief was evident in his eyes. I raised my hand and placed it onto his cheek, caressing the soft skin there. He leaned into the touch; his alarmed eyes calmed; then fell closed.
"I wasn't sure about you Matthew. I don't know anything about you." I whispered to him and he frowned slightly.
"You don't want to know." He whispered in response and leaned into my hand more.
"I want to know everything about you Matthew." I murmured and he looked at me with such an intensely inquisitive gaze I almost looked away, but I didn't break eye contact.
Matthew's violet eyes searched mine for some sort of reassurance, any kind of hint that I might be lying. I wasn't, I knew that for a fact.
He turned his head slightly and looked at the black tablet that lay on the nightstand then back to me.
I took the hint and took the tablet from the table, handing it to Matthew who immediately turned on and started fiddling with.
After a few seconds he turned the tablet around to face me, a picture of a woman on the front.
I was startled to see that the woman looked exactly like Matthew, they had the same eye, and hair colour, same facial structure and even the same expressions. Though Matthew's was tainted with constant sadness, fear, and anxiety.
"Is this your mom?" I asked and Matthew nodded slowly.
"She is very famous." He whispered and looked at the tablet without emotion. Famous? Maybe when I was growing up, I hadn't really paid attention to any of the stars and idols in my youth.
Matthew's eyes filled with unexplained tears and he wiped them away viciously before I could react, the sadness that had leaked through was agonizing to see.
"Alfred grew up without her around. She wasn't there, he had to live with Grandma." He traced the outline of her face on the screen.
"What happened to your father?" I asked as carefully as I could, wincing when Matthew tensed up considerably, fear ran through his eyes and into his posture.
He wrung his hands nervously and touched the stub of his finger.
"His is gone." He replied and pulled up his long shirtsleeve. I felt my mouth fall open as Matthew revealed the skin of his arm, the scars that traced every surface, crossing over each other in a mindless web. I had never seen so much damage done to anyone's skin before, it was sickening to see where skin puckered and stretched abnormally because of the scars.
"I made mom go away. I am dangerous and can't go. I made dad mad at me, and Alfie stopped him." Matthew's voice went child-like and frail and he touched his skin tentatively.
"What did he do Matthew?" I whispered and he looked me in the eye directly.
"He kept me in the dark and made me hurt every day. I didn't get to leave till we came here, Alfie saved me, but not before-" He looked down at his amputated leg.
"Doctors said it was in-fec-ted and I would die if it stayed. They took my leg and I stayed here. I wasn't allowed to leave. Alfie said I killed Daddy." I stared at him in shock.
Matthew had most likely stayed in that house his entire childhood, never leaving the house, never experiencing anything but the torture his father brought.
Alfred had saved him, and I was pretty sure I knew how. It was Alfred that had shot their father, to save Matthew from dying.
He would have died.
I shuddered. He would have never experienced any kind of contact with people; he would have rotted away without making any kind of mark on the world.
"Matthew." I whispered, and he dropped his head on my shoulder, his fingers gripped my scrubs desperately.
"I was so alone. I wanted out and Alfred saved me but it never leaves, I try to help but he is hurting too. Mommy won't come visit him anymore and Grandma died a while ago. He is alone too, and he is getting worse. I am scared Gilbert." He whispered quickly and I felt wet tears drip onto my shirt.
He was crying, oh god he was crying. My heart ached for him.
"Its okay." I cooed, trying hard to make my voice sound as comforting as possible. "I will be here, I will always be here." I promised and he cried harder, his breaths came in strangled gasps.
I kissed his forehead and the top of his head, holding him as close to me as possible as he shook vulnerably.
"It will be okay."
I felt horrible for leaving Matthew after he had fallen asleep against me; I had lifted him onto his bed and tucked him snugly. He was so small, so weak to the forces pushing against him. I wanted to protect him from everything else as to not push him over the edge.
I left him a note explaining why I had to go and finished all of the work that needed to be completed. I felt worn down from the mental slam learning all of this had caused.
I rode the bus home and was happy to find Ludwig was awake when I stepped in the house.
I strode to the computer quickly and typed in the physical characteristics of the woman Matthew had shown me. I scrolled through Google images till a photo of her popped up and I clicked it into full image.
"Ludwig!" I called and he stepped into the room quickly.
"Ja?" He asked, and walked to the computer. His eyebrows raised when he saw the picture and he looked at me.
"Why are you looking at Cosette Williams?" He rumbled and looked back at the picture.
"You know of her?" I exclaimed, and his brows furrowed.
"She was very popular when we were growing up, concerts everywhere. You can hear her music on the radio. She was a major sex symbol too but her fame died out a little when there were rumors of her cheating on her husband. That was a long time ago."
"Did she have any kids?" I asked and he shook his head.
"No, though there was some speculation when she didn't leave her mansion for almost a year then all of a sudden just came back with a new album in hand. She was a very secretive woman and very clever apparently." He shrugged.
"There was a lot of gossip about her."
I was pretty sure my eyes were wide and disbelieving because Ludwig looked at me dubiously.
"What?"
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I spent the entire night reading about Cosette Williams, becoming more and more horrified by what I found. She did it all, drugs, parties, rehab, jail, prison, alcohol, and one night stands.
She was the image of what every star avoided becoming, and she hadn't been heard from in seven years. She completely dropped off of the grid, no more gossip, no more parties; not even the paparazzi could get a picture of her.
Some rumors were that she had become agoraphobic and wouldn't leave her mansion, but I wondered if that was the truth.
It was obvious what had happened now, Matthew and Alfred's father must have been her lover and when she had Alfred and Matthew she couldn't let it get out. Alfred could live a normal life, he probably looked like their dad, but Matthew would be immediately linked to her because of the stunning similarity between them.
Ugh, it was disgusting even thinking about. Had Alfred been abused too? I tried to think back to when I had seen him without long sleeves on. I was pretty sensitive to scars so I could notice them fairly quickly on someone. I didn't think he had any, but they could be hidden in places that were always covered by clothes.
I dressed quickly for the next day; every second was another spent away from Matthew. I wondered why Matthew was still in the hospital, Cosette was hardly famous any more, she didn't have that much of an image left to destroy if it came out that she had a kid.
Maybe the fact that she kept him hidden away for all of his life would affect her. Maybe there was something I didn't know about. He could be released though, as far as I could tell there was nothing wrong with him that would prohibit him from interacting with the outside world.
Even if Matthew had been placed there by the police when he was younger because of the death of his father, it was over ten years ago, they had no right to keep him there any longer. I wanted so badly to get there and tell him about the things I had learned. I wanted to see his eyes light up like they did when I told him he would be able to see outside. Though I wanted him to experience nature now. I wanted to be there for him with every new thing he experienced.
I grabbed a granola bar and a water bottle as breakfast, I knew it wasn't healthy, but it was fast.
I practically ran to the entrance once I arrived, and carded myself in without greeting the women in the front. As soon as the elevator door dinged open I tore down the hall towards Matthew's room, avoiding the few people that were walking around.
I came to a stop before Matthew's door, and raised a fist to knock before another hand clamped down on my shoulder roughly.
"I don't want you in there." Alfred's growl sounded raw and angry. He tugged harshly on my shoulder, forcing me to look at him. His blue eyes were clouded and his lip was pulled into a vicious snarl.
His hand fisted in my shirt tugging me forward towards him.
"You leave him alone."
"No." His eyes widened then narrowed dangerously, he bared his teeth at me. He pushed me back till I hit the wall, his eyes fogged even further and I could tell he was hardly there.
He made a hideous snarling sound then lunged at me only to be tugged to the ground suddenly. We both looked up in surprise at a pale and trembling Matthew, his vivid eyes were wide with fear. He leaned heavily on one of his crutches, he had on a short sleeved shirt that showed the entire expanse of his pale arms.
Long silvery scars covered them, crisscrossing over each other; hardly any of the porcelain skin was spared. He shuddered when Alfred glared murderously at him and got quickly to his feet.
Alfred didn't say anything yet tensed and looked around, causing me to do the same.
At least six members of the staff was watching with worried and on edge gazes, although most of the eyes were trained on Alfred, who sneered at them and clenched his fists.
"What are you looking at?" His lip curled and he glared at each of the onlookers individually. He whipped back to look at Matthew, who had backed up slowly from the aggressive male.
"Matthew." Alfred groaned, his voice getting higher to a whine. "Mattie." He whispered and hugged himself tightly, like he was holding Matthew, who had flinched at the action.
Tears sprung into Alfred's eyes as he stared unblinkingly at Matthew and he dropped the snarl, though his gaze was still deadly sharp and fogged enough that you couldn't tell what he was going to do.
"Why do you do this to me Mattie?" He whispered then lunged forward and grabbed Matthew's hand tugging it forward harshly and making Matthew sway dangerously on his crutch.
He extended the arm fully and ran a finger down expanse of white skin, Matthew shivered.
"Is it because of this?" He asked and tightened his hold around my Birdie's wrist, like handcuffs, preventing any escape.
Matthew didn't respond, only looked at Alfred with fear and overwhelming sadness. It was like he had seen this before, well, he probably had seen this before.
More people gathered around to see what was going on, mumbled whispers swept over the crowd and the gazes became more and more worried, more frantic. I could tell people were getting ready to restrain Alfred at any moment because we had all seen this before in our patients. Alfred wasn't with us.
"Well?" Alfred screamed, and Matthew shot a look at me that clearly said get away. His purple eyes were so pleading, but I couldn't, he had done this for me, to protect me. He had probably never been seen by this many people before. This was probably so frightening for him.
"I get it." Alfred laughed, and it sounded almost sickeningly normal, but there was a twinge of something off, something not right about the tone of the laugh. It was sardonic, cynical even.
"I get it." He repeated. "You are going to leave me aren't you?" His voice rose in pitch. "You are going to leave me behind with all of this!" He gestured at Matthew then grabbed at his head, letting go of Matthew's arms.
"I didn't want to do it, I didn't want to do it." He whispered. "I wanted to help, I didn't want to do it!" His eyes had widened and his hands shook like Matthew's, his whispers got louder with every word.
"I did it for you!" He screeched at Matthew and fisted his blond hair. "God, there was so much blood, so much blood. It was everywhere, blood and knives and you!" He pointed at Matthew.
"You, you were everywhere, red, red hands, red hands, red hands!" He laughed. "Do you know why he paints the color red?" He spun to look at the crowd of people.
"Do you know why he paints the color red?" He looked at his hands that were trembling violently. "Because everyone's hands are red, everyone's." He laughed uncontrollably, tears streaming down his wide eyes and dripping down into his open mouth as he cackled.
"Ugh, ugh, ugh." He dropped to the floor and curled into a ball, the horrible laughing sobs that were ripped from his throat traveled in the hallways eerily as we watched.
Three of the men stepped forward; these were the men who usually transported the most dangerous patients. They gripped Alfred who started thrashing wildly, savage screams emitting from him as they carried him away.
I turned to Matthew who was already looking back at me and he reached out, his shaking hands groping in the air for me.
"Please, please." He whispered and I almost ran to him. He threw himself into my arms, and I ran my fingers through his silky hair, murmuring apologies and comforting things into his ear as he trembled.
"Matthew." Katyusha stepped forward from the crowd, her eyes filled with tears. "I am so sorry." She whispered and placed her hand carefully on his shoulder.
"What is going to happen?" I asked her, and Matthew tensed up, listening.
Katyusha sighed and traced a pattern into Matthew's shirtsleeve. I could tell she was avoiding looking at Matthew's scar covered arms.
"He will be admitted I guess." She hesitated. "Matthew, how long has he been like this?"
He shook his head and gazed mournfully at her. "A long time?" She guessed, and he slowly nodded then his eyes brightened a little in recognition.
He pulled away from me slowly, but kept a hand clenched on my shirt. "Paintings." He whispered and we slowly walked down the hall to the elevator.
"I will explain." She nodded her head to the crowd of patients and employees then turned away as Matthew stepped into the elevator. He clicked the floor for the art room and the doors slid shut with a ding. It reminded me of the elevator ride this morning; it seemed so long ago.
The door slid open and we stepped off, slowly making our way to the art room. When we reached it Matthew let go of my sleeve, making his way –not to the closet where we had found the other paintings, but behind a poster no one would ever notice. Behind it there was a folder that flopped down, no longer propped against the wall.
Matthew set the folder down on one of the art tables then progressed to the corner of the art room, where he pulled up a floor tile, extracting another folder from the hiding place.
He moved all around the room pulling out paintings and folders from places I would never have guessed to exist, till there was a large pile on the table and he made his way to the closet, coming back with the paintings Ivan had found.
"I paint the color red." He said, and stared at the pile. "I paint because it needs to be said. This story, Alfred's story."
He looked at me from across the room, his wide eyes trailing down my body before he picked up one of the folders.
"I don't always paint the color red." He whispered, and then handed the folder to me. I looked at him carefully. Asking him with my eyes if it was really okay to do.
When he nodded, I carefully opened the flap and extracted about fifteen black pages, covered in white paint.
Matthew's hands shook as I slowly looked over the image that was painted on the first of the black pages. The first was of Katyusha; her smooth features were enhanced in the image, making her look angelic. The way the white paint stood out against the black paper was so different from the way Matthew's other paintings looked, those looked incriminating and raw. These were beautifully painted and time was taken to capture all the good aspects of these people.
I flipped through the white painted pages, there are multiple of Katyusha, Feilks and Elizabeta, and surprisingly enough, there were a few of Alfred. His face was full and eyes bright. Not with insanity as what was depicted in the red paintings, the young Alfred's eyes were filled with the mirth of youth. There was a smile on his face that I could hardly imagine on Alfred.
This is what Matthew remembered Alfred as; this is the image he tried to hold onto when faced with the insanity Alfred grew into. This must have been what Alfred was like as a child.
"He used to visit me." Matthew whispered, and curled a hand around my arm. "He would visit me every week in here since the time when I was put in, till he went to medical school. But then he would visit me on his breaks. Katyusha came when he was in medical school and he didn't like when she visited me. He had been getting worse." His voice cracked and he hung his head.
"He was just getting so bad Gilbert, I didn't see what to do."
He flipped the next page in my hands and my breath caught. It was a picture of me. My hair stood out on the page and the lines of my face were drawn with detail and care. Matthew stroked a finger down the side of my face in the painting and rested his head on my shoulder.
"He got so much worse after you came though. More horrible than ever before, but he couldn't control himself." He whimpered and shook his head against my arm.
"It isn't his fault, Dad was just the same. He saw what Dad was doing and it scared him so bad. He was so scared Gilbert! He didn't know what to do."
Matthew took in a deep breath, held it; and let it out again, straightening his back.
"He shot Dad. He killed him in the red room. We were ten. I remember it so clearly, but not. I remember not understanding, I couldn't understand anything!"
Hot tears fell onto my shirt as Matthew looked at the painting. The snapshot of when Alfred was happy.
"Matthew." I whispered and he shook his head.
"I started speaking sentences when I was fifteen. I had already been here for five years. Mom didn't let anyone test on me, she only paid for my speech therapy and lessons. She paid the hospital to not let me out. I was only sentenced to mental therapy for five years because I was a child, and I didn't understand what I-Alfred had done.
I was the second most extreme case of neglect in history, and the first was mentally retarded. She was moved from foster home to foster home after being tested on, and was abused. She is now in a mental hospital somewhere, no one knows." Matthew started shaking.
"They called her Genie the Wild Child." He whispered.
"Alfred told me about her. Alfred said we should be grateful to Mom for keeping it quiet but I wanted to go outside." He whined. "I want to know what grass feels like. I want to know what snow feels like. What it is to be cold." He shivered against me.
"When I was entered my leg was infected. He cut me too deep and Alfred didn't clean it." He brought his hand down from my arm and touched his amputated leg.
"They had to take my leg, I wouldn't be able to walk normally again."
"How did you learn to walk?" I whispered, and he choked out a laugh.
"Alfred taught me, when Dad went out. He would teach me words, and how to walk." He was trying to save me the whole time, but he couldn't tell anyone. Dad wouldn't let him."
"You were a light" he said, after a pause.
"I was having nightmares about-" he sucked in a breath "about him…cutting me." He finally exhaled out the words and I watched him in horror. He was pouring out every secret he had and there was no stopping him. I had never felt so close to him before. I had never felt so connected.
"But every time you came back I knew you would bring something to piece me back together." He sniffed. "You brought new words, Francis and Arthur, the prosthetic leg, snow." He laughed shakily.
"I have had measurements taken for a prosthetic leg. I am going to walk." He smiled and, the tears stuck to his long, light, eyelashes prettily.
"They can't keep me in here anymore." Matthew whispered. "My mom is going to come out. She is going to let me go."
"Matthew!" I whispered and grabbed his hands. "When did this happen? When did you find out?"
"Yesterday, after you left. When I woke up, I called her. It was the first time I have talked to her and I asked her if I could leave." He hesitated. "She sounded bad, really broken. She kept coughing into the phone." He shuddered lightly and smiled again. "She had someone bring in the papers after an hour and Katyusha signed my release forms.
I want you to be there for my first steps." He choked out. "I get my prosthetic leg in a week." He whispered gripping my hand.
I spent every minute I could with Matthew. The hospital was in a bit of a madhouse (excuse the pun) after Alfred was admitted. He was being held there till they found a more suitable than a home for the criminally insane.
Matthew was incredibly smart, something I learned when I went to his lessons with the prosthetic leg. Over this passing week, I learned so much more about him and how much he was holding back for fear of Alfred doing something that would harm someone.
He was much happier too. I would see him lost in thought sometimes, a small smile on his lips. It was different than the look he would get when he was staring ahead, before it was like he was lost a million miles away, caught in place he didn't want to be.
I figured it was the mentality he had. He was free now; he had never been free in his life, ever. I didn't know what that could possibly be like, to always know that he was trapped in a place he couldn't get out of. I wondered if he knew that his freedom had been a phone call away.
It had been so simple.
But it had him walking.
The first steps had been incredible, he had gripped my hand so tightly I could feel his fingers stopping the blood from reaching my hand but I didn't care. He was shaking and his breathing was rapid, I could see the fear and excitement in his eyes as he stood in the fake limb.
He had learned to stand; he had walked with the help of a bar, and with the help of someone's hand (usually mine), now he let go of my hand leaving mine empty and outstretched towards him as he took the first step.
Tears sprouted from my eyes as he wobbled unsteadily then took another step. He looked back at me with the widest smile I had ever seen on his face which quickly disappeared when he saw my face.
"Gilbert?" He whispered and moved to turn around but wobbled a little too much. I leapt forward and we both tumbled to the ground, him on top of me.
Before I could even acknowledge how cliché it was his worried purple eyes searched mine worriedly.
"You are crying!" He exclaimed, and brought his hands to my face. He didn't even realize how close we were.
"I am crying because I am happy!" I laughed and his eyes widened then filled with tears also. "I am happy too!" He proclaimed and placed a kiss on my mouth. He pulled back before I could blink and stared at me.
"I kissed you." He whispered and a smile lit up his face again. I was breathless and so happy I was sure my heart would beat out of my chest. I leaned up and kissed him sloppily, our smiles making it awkward.
Our tears had mixed together on our cheeks and I pulled him from the ground, he didn't even shake as he stood on the prosthetic leg.
He pulled me forward into a strong hug, the most contact he had even given me, burying his hands into my hair.
"Watch me." He whispered then extracted himself from my arms, turning around and walking shakily to the other end of the room, turning around and making his way back with even more precision.
He squeaked with excitement, his eyes never leaving mine till he stood less than a foot away from me.
"I love you Gilbert." He whispered and kissed me tentatively.
I couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the night.
Ludwig was very worried.
Matthew was nearly hopping with excitement; he had become proficient in the usage of his new leg and was walking around the hospital excitedly. Today was the first day he was going to be allowed outside. Sure it was only the back of the hospital where the other patients were allowed to go, but soon, little by little, he was going to be able to function in the outside world.
He gripped my hand in one of his and threw the other around my shoulders, holding me tightly against him. He was trembling, and he knew I could feel it. He had become more comfortable with me in a few days than I would have even believed.
He confessed he learned what kissing meant and how to do it by watching Disney movies, I laughed until his face couldn't get any more red and he started hitting me with the white polar bear I had given him.
He named him Kumajirou, but forgot it the next minute, calling it an array of different names, all starting with Kuma strangely enough.
Matthew and I walked to the door that led to the backyard, his breath hitching faster with every step closer.
"Gilbert." He whispered uncertainly, and I looked at him raising my eyebrows. "What if it isn't what I expected? What if its awful and and-." I cut him off by putting a finger on his lips. (No I didn't blush over how cliché I was being, who told you that?)
"I doubt it will be what you expected." I reasoned and his eyes widened in fear. "But!" I said stopping him from freaking out and retreating. "I think it will be better than you could have ever imagined." I whispered in his ear and he shuddered, his eyes lighting up in joy.
He glanced at the door, watching the outside world with wide purple eyes. He pulled away from me towards the door but kept his hand in mine. He almost never let go of my hand when we were together; it was something that was comforting to him.
I was sad to have to remind him that I wasn't going to leave him every time I had to leave and do my work in the hospital. He would freak out and start crying, dragging me back to him and holding me hostage under the bright lights of his room.
Not that I wanted to leave of course. I never wanted to leave him alone; the handholding was as comforting to me as it was to him. I loved him so much.
I opened the door for him and he winced, bringing an arm up to shield his eyes from the light. This is probably the first time he had been under the direct sunlight in years. He had told me that when he was arrested for the murder of his father he was so injured that he had to be loaded into an ambulance and brought directly to a hospital. He had slipped in and out of a coma and was asleep through the trial, which had been kept under wraps and hurried by his celebrity mother.
When he woke up he was brought to the mental hospital immediately, and put under sedation during the entire process.
I cried with him during the entire story, even thinking about it now made my heart sink. Matthew had been though hell and back, and now he was dragging me outside the door, a wide smile brightening his features.
He stopped his incessant tugging once we were both outside; there was a small amount of shaded pavement that separated the door and the green grass. The sun shone brightly and Matthew stared, dumbstruck at the scene.
Picnic tables were scattered randomly around the small yard and flowers lined the high fence that enclosed it, and that was it. There was nothing that special that would make take Matthew's breath away and leave him gaping, but there he was, his mouth hanging open slightly, the haunted his eyes he used to have were so long gone I could barely imagine them on him.
He stepped forward into the lush green grass, which was still a little bit wet from the sprinkler system and wriggled his toes around, feeling the blades underneath his feet.
He dropped to his knees suddenly, letting go of my hand and I jumped in surprise the action was so sudden. Loud sobs were wracked from his body as he let himself fall into the grass, the green mingling with his blonde hair, shining in the sunlight.
He trembled and shook, gripping the grass and crying, completely enraptured by the earth as he experienced it for the first time. He dug his fingers into the soil and watched as they came back brown and covered in wet dirt and he showed me like a child, tears still glistening on his cheeks.
He crawled around on his knees, sometimes letting himself lay down on the grass and sighing contentedly before I joined him.
"Is it what you expected?" I whispered to him in a light tone and his purple eyes flashed back to mine. He extracted his hand from the earth and twined his dirty hand with mine.
"I am so happy." He whispered back, not really answering my question, but answering it at the same time. He squeezed my hand in his and sighed again, letting his eyes close.
He fell asleep there, the wind rustling his hair, that glimmered like gold in the sunlight, the brightness of the outside making his scars near invisible, the grass swaying around him and tickling his face making his nose twitch.
Later we found Matthew covered in red rash, he was allergic to the grass. He started crying and I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. He hit me with Kumajirou. Again.
I drove quietly through the streets, watching as different houses flashed by. Matthew was silent too. It had been a month since he had first stepped outside, and now he was in my car, a somber and scared look displaying on his face.
"It's going to be okay" I whispered and he squeezed my hand. I slowed to a stop in front of a house I had only seen in pictures. Matthew sucked in a breath, his violet eyes racking over the exterior almost hungrily.
Matthew had been in therapy for a long time, but I doubted his being ready for this. I was scared out of my mind, for Matthew that was, but he insisted.
We got out of the car without another word, and I raced around the car to grab hold of his hand again, which had started shaking.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked in a quiet voice, and he nodded jerkily.
"I have to do this." He said in return, the steel in his voice surprising me. I was constantly being surprised of how strong Matthew was now. Every day reminded me of how much I loved him.
But I still hadn't told him that. He seemed to notice it too.
He took a shaky breath and pulled me towards the door, walking up the door on the porch and taking an old key from his jeans pocket.
Introducing Matthew to normal clothing was interesting to say the least; he liked jeans and hoodies where I liked the much…tighter clothing. Elizabeta hit me with Kumajirou while Matthew looked clueless.
He carefully slid the key into the lock, sucking in a breath when it unlocked the door.
It swung open with a creak as Matthew pushed against it lightly, showing us a view of the front room. It was empty, and on the floor there was a thin layer of dust. My Birdie sneezed adorably.
We stepped into the house, disturbing the dust as each step creaked on the wood floor.
"I never got to see what it was like up here." Matthew said, his voice was loud in the quiet atmosphere.
"I spent all my time down there." He pointed towards a door, which surely led to the basement. "Alfred and Dad lived up here."
"The kitchen should be around that corner." He pointed to a wall that probably used to be white, now it was a dull grey. "I used to hear them fighting, or eating, or just him talking to himself." He sucked in a breath and moved forward, his hand falling away from mine.
He stretched his hand out and grasped the door to the basement, simply resting his hand on the handle.
"When the police came, they carried me out. I have never seen the stairs or used them. But I knew who was coming when they came down the stairs. Alfred was lighter than Dad. I came out for Alfred, when Dad came I knew what was going to happen. I just didn't understand why."
He tugged the door open and took the first step down the stairs. I saw him shudder at the creaking sound it made.
"I sound like he did." Matthew whispered in horror then turned and raced back to the top of the stairs, throwing his arms around me and burying his face in my shoulder. He shook hard, and I saw the terror in his eyes. To him, every time he heard that sound, it meant that he was going to be hurt. I would never have set foot in this place.
He was going back to the place where he was tortured.
"I need to do this." He whispered, more to himself than to me, then kissed me lightly. His kisses were always light.
He took my hand again and took the first step again. He couldn't contain his shudder at the sound and squeezed my hand tightly.
We worked our way down the stairs, and had to go back up a couple of times. He was breathing deeply, and I knew how close to a panic attack he was. I was rightly worried before. Now I was terrified for him. I wanted him out of this house, out of the nightmare had had to live in for his entire childhood but I knew how much this would help him too.
We stopped at the base of the stairs, his entire body shaking. He slowly raised a finger, pointing to a large bloodstain on the floor, in front of a small black door with a golden handle.
"That was where Alfred shot him." He whispered, and I knew he was reliving the memory with every step he took.
He moved forward, towards the door, and I noticed the many hooks that adorned the walls, that once held shelves.
"What did he have on those shelves Matthew?" I asked, and he jumped his eyes that were previously trained on the black door swung around the room, looking at the hooks.
"Shelves." He whispered in remembrance than shuddered. "He kept his tools there." He said, grasping at his arm and tracing a few of his scars. Oh, his tools. The knives and whips and horrible things he used, to make Matthew's life hell.
Tools.
I pulled Matthew in for a hug, for both of us. It was so hard for me to see this, I never wanted to see Matthew in this much pain, knowing the full extent of what had happened was torture. He had told me on the picnic tables behind the hospital. Both he and I had cried and he told me he loved me again.
I held him that night, through the nightmares that came from recalling the memories. I held him all night long.
He pulled away from me and looked at the door.
"Can you open it?" He whispered and I nodded, reaching for the gold handle. The door opened with a creak just like the front door had and Matthew let out a strangled yelp before collapsing, almost hitting the floor before I caught him.
His eyes stayed wide open, staring at the inside of the room in complete horror. The room was hardly large enough for one person to fit comfortably inside; it looked big enough for a child.
The floor was concrete, just like the rest of the basement. But this time the floor was covered in bloodstains, ranging from light brown to a dark almost red. It covered most of the floor, sometimes spotted in the corners. The walls were covered as well, but not in splatters.
The walls were covered in bloody handprints of all different sizes. I felt the need to puke, immense sadness, and horror wash over me. I could only imagine what it was doing to Matthew.
He shook so hard it was difficult to hold him and his mouth was open in a silent scream, he pulled away from me shakily and stood, using my shoulder as support. He stepped into the room, his eyes taking every single image to present from the room.
He stopped in the middle, then placed a hand on the wall, right over a small, dark handprint.
"It was always dark." He whispered then clenched his hand into a fist on the wall. "The first time I saw light I was in so much pain I couldn't stand it, and I had just watched Alfred kill my dad. I was so pale the ambulance attendants thought I was already dead. Women cried when they saw my marks." He sucked in a breath.
"I was naked and you could see I was starved. I remember running my fingers over my ribs. They had to be re-broken and aligned because they healed while broken." He ran a hand over his ribs, as if remembering doing it as a child. He was lost in the moment.
"I was so afraid of the dark afterward. I thought every time the lights turned off he would come get me and take me back to this room."
He pointed to the left corner, the last place you would look if you opened the door. "I slept there." The blood there was darker.
"Alfred was the one who cleaned up my waste and took care of my injuries. He didn't bandage them but he always cleaned them well."
He walked back out of the room and up the stairs, leaving me watching him, feeling slightly hollow. When I got back upstairs he was waiting for me outside of the house, key in hand.
"Hey Matthew-" I stepped out of the house and he threw his arms around me, kissing me harder than ever before. I was surprised but I kissed back, relishing in the desperation of Matthew's kiss. He broke the kiss and stared up at me, his purple eyes sparked a little for the first time since he told me he wanted to visit his old home and he smiled a little.
"I love you Gilbert." He whispered and rested his head on my shoulder.
Matthew and I stood together hand in hand. Matthew's hair had gotten slightly longer, just a few centimeters, but I noticed the difference. Matthew was fully out of the hospital and was now living with me, and I had never been happier. It was hard to think about life without Matthew and he was adapting to life more rapidly than I had expected.
When I said living with me, I didn't mean living with Ludwig, Feliciano, and myself. Feliciano had moved in with Ludwig at some point when I was sleeping at the hospital to be closer to Matthew.
It has been a year since Matthew visited his old home, and a lot has changed. I bought an apartment on my salary at the hospital. Matthew was experiencing new things every day and I fell more in love with him again each time. His reaction to the escalator was one of the most adorable things I had ever seen. He had jumped off his feet and clung to me the entire way up, looking down at the bottom of the escalator in complete disbelief.
I was happy to know that Gilbird thought Matthew was as adorable as I did, despite Matthew flipping out and running out of the room when he tried to nest in his blonde hair.
After that they got along swimmingly. Well, Gilbird was happy, Matthew was a bit edgy around him.
Matthew looked at Gilbert with a mix of terror and complete excitement then back to the ice rink in front of him.
"You're kidding." Matthew whispered, dragging his eyes away from the skating individuals.
"There is no way I can do this!" He looked down at his prosthetic leg and back to me in desperation. "I can't." He whispered.
"Matthew." I sighed and he looked at his feet. "Matthew!" I tugged his chin up to look at me. "We can do it!" I whispered to him and his eyes sparkled with hope.
I tugged him forward and he laughed, letting me guide him. We raced around the rink, to a small table on the other side of where we were standing before. There sat a box, wrapped in white paper with a black ribbon. Matthew looked at me in confusion.
"Gilbert?" He asked, "What is that?" He stepped forward and touched the box tentatively. He had a long sleeved red hoodie on that looked adorably big on him, it made me want to hug him constantly, and I did. Quite a lot.
"That is a present Birdie." I said, and he blinked in surprise.
"I mean…why? Why is that there?" He touched the black ribbon, smiling a little. "Did you get this for me?" He asked a little more quietly. The thing about Matthew was that he was one of the quietest people I had ever met, but he could be so incredibly loud.
His whispers were loud, his kisses were loud, his glances were loud, his touches were screaming.
"I did." I said and watched as his eyes widened and he turned towards the wrapped box.
"Can I open it?" He asked and watched me nod before pulling carefully on the strings of the black bow.
After a few minutes he had the box unwrapped and open but he had yet to look inside. I was nearly bursting with excitement.
"Come on Matthew, look in the box." I urged and he looked at me worriedly before peering inside the box. He squealed in a way no man should ever squeal (but was so damn cute for him) and spun to me, throwing his arms around me and kissing me soundly on the lips, moving his mouth against mine deliciously.
"Thank you." He murmured against my lips leaning forward so his forehead touched mine. He opened his eyes and looked into mine with sentimental happiness and joy.
"I love you Gilbert." He whispered before stepping away and pulling out the skate that would fit perfectly with his prosthetic leg and one that would fit on his other foot (surprisingly enough Matthew had enormous feet.)
I pulled out my old skates and showed them to him and he flashed me a huge smile.
"I'll help you put them on." I said and he nodded, sitting down at the bench, his eyes flashing dangerously like tears.
I knelt down trying not to think of the implications of this position before pressing the buttons the released the foot part of his leg. I carefully took hold of the skate, fitting it around the leg and listening to the click that alerted me it was locked into place. The skate was already tied so I left it alone.
I pulled off Matthew's shoe and unlaced the skate, pulling open the flap and sliding it around Matthew's other foot.
"Does that feel okay?" I asked, looking up, startled to see Matthew had wet tears streaming down his face.
"Are you okay?" I asked and Matthew nodded, he shut his eyes tightly and nodded again, taking deep breaths.
I pulled the flap back around his foot and tied the complex laces, making sure they were tight around his foot.
"Thanks." Matthew breathed, his eyes still closed. I sat next to him, making sure part of my body pressed against him so he knew I was there. He didn't like it when he didn't know where I was and I was in the habit now of making sure he knew.
I pulled on my skates quickly and got to my feet a little shakily. Matthew got to his feet with less trouble miraculously, I figured it was because of the training he had with his prosthetic leg.
He smiled at me widely, his cheeks were still wet and I could see his eyes were still glimmering slightly.
"Are you ready to live your dream Matthew?" I said quietly and he burst into tears again, nodding as he covered his face. His hands shook but I knew it wasn't from fear.
I stepped onto the ice first, gliding and wobbling before regaining my balance. Matthew laughed at me and I glowered at him.
I grabbed Matthew's hand as he got close to the edge then stepped onto the ice, drawing in a breath of astonishment as he was fully on the ice. He stared wide-eyed at his feet as he slid forwards a bit.
Matthew held back a sob as I skated forward, dragging him along with me as we held hands. People skated around us sometimes with their own partners, or by themselves. Each person had a different skill level and they didn't judge the abilities of others.
Some smiled in remembrance when they saw someone fall and some outright laughed, but it wasn't malicious, because everyone had done it before.
Matthew watched everyone, he was hyperaware of other people and didn't go out much, but he loved to watch people and how they interacted. At first I was scared that he would find someone else that would catch his interest, but he would tell me he loved me every chance he got. He never said it to anyone else and it made my heart warm to think about.
We skated round and round in circles, Matthew never once letting go of my hand. He became increasingly confident in his skills and only fell a few times, taking me down with him. We laughed and others laughed mainly because of the memories of when he first kissed me. The first time he walked without help.
I let go of Matthews hand near the end of the night and he gasped, stopping on the ice immediately with his hand on the wall.
I skated away from him a little bit and he looked lost and scared before I turned back to him.
"Skate to me Matthew." I called and he shook his head quickly.
"Come on! You can do it! Just like before, one step at a time!" Matthew looked me straight in the eye and I nodded encouragingly, reaching out my hands to him.
He looked down at the ice then pushed himself away from the wall. He moved slowly then shifted, letting one leg push down on the ice and guiding himself forward. He shifted again then looked up at me, smiling. He held out his hands as he reached me and I laced my fingers between his.
"I am so proud of you." I whispered to him in his ear and he giggled.
"I love you Gilbert."
Matthew and I stood in our backyard; he took a deep breath before throwing the last painting into the pile of paintings sitting in our fire pit.
He broke into a smile as he looked at the pile then looked at me, and I stepped towards him, wrapping him in my arms.
"Do you want to do it?" I asked, and he nodded enthusiastically. I took a box of matches out of my pocket and struck one alight for him, before handing him the match carefully.
Matthew's hand found mine and he watched the flame dance for a second before he threw the match into the pile. As soon as the small flame met the flammable paint it flickered and grew, spreading over the paintings rapidly. Matthew watched the flames and I watched the flames reflected in Matthew's wide eyes.
"It's over." Matthew said, tears glistening in his eyes. "It's all over now." He turned around in my arms and looked at me. He looked so beautiful tonight, the sunlight reflecting off of his hair was beautiful but seeing Matthew in the moonlight was something different; special.
I had helped Matthew ease off his fear of the night a few months after we bought our first house together. He noticed, I noticed, everyone we knew noticed that we belonged together. I had taken every step with him, we went on dates, the ice rink could probably count as out first, we kissed, and he told me he loved me every day but I couldn't find the right moment to tell him the same words.
They were always on the tip of my tongue, they were in everything I did and Matthew knew that, but it was frustrating when he could say it so easily and after so many years of us being together I still couldn't say it.
But now was the moment. Matthew looked up at me with the moonlight in his eyes and the fire dancing behind him. We were celebrating his moving on from everything in the past. It was our anniversary of his release from the hospital.
Matthew hugged me close to him and I traced a scar on his hand. He was okay with me touching his scars; he loved it when I held him as we were doing now.
He opened his mouth, to say the words I knew we was going to say but I stopped him with a kiss. He closed his eyes and kissed back with passion, as much as when we had left his home and the life he had lived there so many years back.
I pulled away and he looked at me questioningly, tracing down my face with his fingertips. I loved it when he did that; it reminded me of when we were back in the hospital.
"Matthew." I said quietly, and his eyes widened, the purple irises looked so beautiful I could just live looking into them without another care in the world.
"Matthew, you say this to me every chance you get." I breathed, and his hands clenched in my shirt. I carefully removed his hands from my shirt, kneeling down in front of him on one knee.
"You are a light in my life and a guide to the darkness in the world. Ever since you came into my life there has been nothing but joy and happiness. I have never felt so loved." Matthew's eyes filled with tears and he brought his hands to his lips covering them in shock.
"I have never said these words no matter how hard I have tried and I am so sorry that you had to wait this long to hear them but Matthew I love you too much to put into words, but I will try to prove it to you through actions for the rest of my life if you will let me."
I took a deep breath and brought out a sleek gold band, small diamonds were embedded into the gold that glimmered in the moonlight and Matthew gaped in astonishment.
"Matthew will you marry me?"
"Even In Death" By Evanescence
Give me a reason to believe that you're gone
I see your shadow so I know they're all wrong
Moonlight on the soft brown earth
It leads me to where you lay
They took you away from me but now I'm taking you home
I will stay forever here with you
My love
The softly spoken words you gave me
Even in death our love goes on
Some say I'm crazy for my love, Oh my love
But no bonds can hold me from your side, Oh my love
They don't know you can't leave me
They don't hear you singing to me
And I can't love you, anymore than I do
And I can't love you, anymore than I do
People die, but real love is forever.