Sorry about the slow update, everyone. I was sick for a week, was stressed, had writer's block, a bad day at work, and an emotional breakdown. I looked online for inspiration, and a site said the public Twitter feed could give you inspiration sometimes. Since I had no other option, I went to it, and saw this: "Walk patiently through this troubled world, and you will find great treasure. Even though your house may be small, look within it!" I thought first of Francis, but then I thought of Matthew and how he would make his space his own. Then I wrote this. If you have any requests for the next chapter, I'd love to hear them! They really help me with my writing :)
Matthew returned to his room after breakfast and looked around. His room was small, but he liked it that way. It was cozy. His bed was neatly made, but in a basket next to it was a pile of tiny blankets and pieces of soft material he liked to pull into bed with him sometimes. Stuck to one wall, going as far up as he could reach, were dozens and dozens of pictures. There were all sorts of animals, from polar bears to parrots and other birds. There were all manner of foods; things he liked or thought looked strange or interesting. There were some that made sense to no one but Matthew, and a few little drawings he had done himself. He had collected little scraps and tidbits during his time in the orphanage—about a year now, he thought. They were set up in a certain order in his room that no one could understand or decipher, for it was a pattern he had made up in his mind.
He had a collection of colored see-through rocks and polished glass lined up on the low windowsill. Sometimes, when they were turned just right and a light hit them in a certain way, they would throw a rainbow of color against the wall above his bed. He could sit and stare at the moving, dancing colors for hours, he knew. If the light would stay on them for that long. The colors were familiar to him, bringing comforting memories of a pair of dark arms circled around his waist holding him against a warm body, and a soft voice laughing that made him smile and laugh too. He also had memories blurred by tears of sadness and fear, but he didn't dwell on those. They often brought on nightmares, so he focused instead on the happy memories. He had a lot of those that had happened at the orphanage, since he had met Alfred. The other blond was loud and outgoing, which he wasn't, but he was also sweet and kind, protecting Matthew and being his friend when he needed it.
Matthew smiled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. Yes, he had a lot of good memories. He hoped to have many more in the future, with Alfred by his side.