So now Mathew was standing outside of Lars' house. It was one of those new houses that looked exactly like every other house on that block. It was forgettable and indistinguishable from the masses. No one would ever think a second thought about it.

'That's such a weird thought to have. '

Mathew found the doorbell and rang it immediately hearing footsteps from the other side, and a shadow moving behind the glass part of the door. No, not one shadow, there were two. The door opened, and Lars smiled out at Mathew with a middle-aged woman behind him looking up from arranging the shoes by the door to make room for one more pair.

"Hello," she said. "My name is Emma. I am Lars' mom."

Mathew smiled. "It's nice to meet you, Emma. Thank you for letting me come into your home."

"It's no problem at all, sweetie."

Mathew smiled politely at his hosts as he stepped further into their house. "Your home is very nice." He commented casually before he turned around to face Lars' mom and saw the bat headed straight for his head too late for him to stop it.

The last thing he saw was that Lars' indifferent expression hadn't changed in the least. That hurt more than the bat's impact did.

Lars watched Mathew slump to the floor as if he was some invertebrate, boneless, and spotted the blood on his mother's bat and the drops dripping from Mathew's hair. He made a split-second decision and spoke up before he'd even decided on it fully. "Before we kill him, could I ask you something?"

"What?" His mother asked looking at him.

"Could we spare him? Just him. No others, but could he get to live?"

His mother froze. "Honey-"

"Please." Lars interrupted her and she sighed.

"I'll think about it." She admitted then turned away, likely to go wash off the bat. "Tie him up and put him in the cellar for now."

"How clichéd, Mother."

She laughed. "Well, you have to admit it works. We haven't been caught yet after all."

She disappeared into the kitchen and Lars stared down at the fallen blond at his feet. With his blond hair and thin body he looked like such a sweet little thing that had just decided to take a nap lying on the ground like that.

Lars kicked Mathew's leg, fixing the way his body had fallen. Now it was even better.

Interesting.

Glancing out the glass window of the door, Lars decided that he liked the way that he was able to so easily make the boy seem prettier, cuter.

Mathew could be his little doll from now on. He had always liked receiving some of those from his mother and taking care of them until he decided he liked them enough, and yanked their heads off.

Mathew would be his perfect little doll, that he alone could control, and that would be so delicious in its reactions. The reactions he'd always craved from his other toys and had never gotten.
But, no. He should protect Mathew. Because Mathew could be something else for him. He could be the one thing that wouldn't change, that would stay fixed beside him and never leave.

Now that he'd known for so long that he couldn't control himself, the thought of controlling SOMETHING made him shiver. His blank face in the mirror every morning and the flashes of it he saw reflected now in the window showed that his feelings would stay too far gone from him to ever come back. He would make sure that Mathew would feel enough emotions to last in the memories of both of them. With a little encouragement, of course.

The emotion to first came to mind to inspire in Mathew was fear. It made sense. Fear should be there always. It was the most delicious.

Fear would be the easiest to ignite in those expressive amethyst eyes, Lars decided as he picked Mathew up and carried him not down into the basement but up to his own room, his first small act of defiance in a very long time. Too long of a time it seemed now.

Now he just had to wait until those glorious eyes would flutter open and he could start seeing those wonderful feelings rushing through them. It would be the best entertainment ever. Better than making a random person scream even.

Then his mother had to ruin his good mood by coming into his room and again ordering him to bring the boy down to the cellar. He may or may not have tied the ropes around Mathew's wrists and ankles a bit too tight as a result. Whatever, Mathew would be asleep for another few minutes at least. He would care more, later, if it still didn't seem to bother Mathew.