Ch. 5
psychokittenterror: THANK YOU. THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU. T.H.A.N.K.Y.O.U. I'll refer to your gift when I get to it in the story. Everyone! Everyone, if I may have your attention! Ahem, please do leave a review thanking Ms./Mr. psychokittenterror (though I'm assuming you're a Ms., since most people on this site are...) and telling him/her that he/she is AWESOME.
I woke up to knocking on the front door. Matthew was still peacefully sleeping, so I quietly got up and tugged on some pants before sneaking downstairs. When I got to the front door, I yawned and looked through the whatever the fuck those little hole things in your doors are. When I looked out, I saw a man with snow-white hair and a mean face standing there, and I immediately felt a little nervous. Not like I'd ever admit it to anyone, of course.
Anyway, I opened the door, but not all the way. The man looked down at me and I looked up at him. He was only a little taller than I, but it still made me feel a little weaker. I'm pretty sure I could've beat him up, though, I mean, my job/life is pretty much one long workout. After a few seconds of silence, I finally greeted him.
"...Sup?" I muttered, and his face cringed a little as if he smelt something foul.
"... 'Sup'...?" He repeated, and I frowned and rubbed the back of my neck.
"It's like... What's up?" I tried, but his look of confusion didn't change. He had an insanely deep voice, but it still kind of sounded soft and childish.
"Like 'Hello'?" He questioned, and I nodded in response, "I see... What is up to you too..."
"Huh? No, no, you wouldn't say that." I frowned, then realized I was teaching him like I would Matthew, "Um, nevermind, forget about it. So... What do you need here? Are you lost or something?"
He shook his head, then looked over my head and into my house, "I am looking."
"For...?" I questioned, and he looked back down at me. He lifted his hands to his head, brushing his fingers through his hair.
"He is blond," He said, still ruffling his hair, "and small. He glows." I frowned more, then leaned against the door, keeping it as closed as possible without slamming it in the man's face.
"Sorry, I don't know who you're talking about." I lied, and the man frowned. He stared at me for a while, and I stared back, then he crossed his arms.
"You do." He said, "You know him." I shook my head no, but he wouldn't take no for an answer.
"I want to see him." He told me, and I shook my head no again.
"I seriously have no clue who you're talking about, dude."
"You do. You were with him in the town. I saw." The man claimed, narrowing his purple-ish eyes. They looked a little like Matthew's but they didn't seem to swim with the same emotions. I frowned more, then I narrowed my eyes in return.
"Okay, so maybe I do know him. What do you want with him?" I questioned, and the man seemed to calm down a little.
"I want to talk to him. I need to see him." He requested, and I looked over him again. He was really pale, and his hair was a silvery-white, but more white than silvery. He wore a long, eggshell scarf and a huge grey trench coat that I recognized almost immediately from the tailor shop in town. He didn't wear shoes, which I thought was kind of funny.
"What happened to your shoes?" I questioned, and the man looked down at his feet.
"I have no money." He told me, then regained eye contact, "I could only afford the jacket and pants."
"And the scarf?" I asked, but the man shook his head no.
"This is my father's. He gave it to me. I need to see him." He said, reminding me of the situation at hand.
"Look, dude, I know who you're talking about, but I don't know where he is." I lied again, crossing my arms and nodding.
"I do not believe you." He all but growled, and I was taken by surprise at the viciousness in his voice. I immediately knew there was something wrong, and I didn't want this guy near Matthew at all.
Then, as if to screw us both over, Matthew came trotting down the stairs, coming into view over my shoulder. I could tell, from two different things. First, the man in front of me, his eyes became wide and this little look of hope and excitement grew in his eyes. The second thing that let me know Matthew was behind me was his voice.
"Alfred, my hips hurt! I think you injured me a little!" He whined softly, and I turned to look over my shoulder at the groggy-looking babe behind me, rubbing his right eye with his fist and his back with his other hand. Matthew was standing there naked, and as much as I was starting to enjoy it, I didn't want that freak in my doorway see Mattie like that.
"Go upstairs and get dressed!" I demanded lightly, and Matthew gave me a confused look before he peered over my shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw the albino-looking guy behind me, and the guy stepped forward and shoved me out of the way.
"Matthew!" He gasped, and Matthew spun around and bolted upstairs. I recovered quickly from being shoved against the wall, and I quickly grabbed the man's shoulder, shoving him away from the staircase.
"Hey! You're in my house!You can't just shove into someone's house!" I yelled, and the man glared at me.
"Do not tell me what I can and cannot do!" He yelled back, shoving me back again and seriously pissing me off. Before I could actually do anything about it, though, Matthew called out to me from the staircase railing.
"Alfred! Don't!" He pleaded, "Please, please leave!"
I spun around to look at Matthew in shock, "You want me to leave?"
"No! I want him to leave!" Matthew huffed, nodding his head towards the pale man in my doorway. The man growled a little, then grabbed my shoulder and shoved me back before pointing a threatening finger at Matthew.
"I will talk to you later then! And we both know what about!" He claimed, then turned and left, stomping his way down my pathway and onto the road. When he was gone, I closed the door and turned to look at Matthew, who was sitting naked on my staircase. He was frowning and he looked nervous, so I went to him and rubbed his arm.
"Hey, do you know him?" I asked, and Matthew nodded immediately, then frowned more and shook his head.
"He is bad, Alfred. He wants to take me away. He will kill me." Matthew hissed, clutching onto my biceps and pulling me closer, "I don't want to die yet. I'm not happy yet." I was surprised to hear this, and I felt my protective and heroic side bursting out from it's cage deep in the back of my mind. I know that I usually get people hurt when I act like a hero, but when it was Matthew, trembling so weakly and on the edge of tears, I just had to.
"Hey, I'll protect you! I'll never let anything hurt you!" I said with a smile, and Matthew looked up at me with hopeful eyes.
"You will?" He questioned, moving his hands up my shoulders and linking his fingers behind my neck. I nodded and leaned in closer to him, pressing our foreheads together.
"Of course, Matthew... I mean, you promised you would stay until those Forget-Me-Nots grew, and..."
"And...?" He coaxed with a soft, slow purr. I smiled a little, putting my hands on the wooden steps he sat on, right beside his thighs.
"Well... I don't really want you to leave either..." I muttered, tilted my head slightly to the left, and Matthew tilted his too, glancing down at my lips, then up into my eyes. He smiled a cute, shy smile, and we kissed on the staircase, letting our teeth scrape lightly and our tongues caress.
Damnit why do I have to write everything we do so detailed? It just keeps replaying in my head until I want to do it again and again... Do you see what he's doing to me? I swear, I never knew I could feel so in love/lust with someone I barely met a month ago. But, God, do I love it...
Anyway, after our kiss, Matthew smiled at me and got up.
"I'm staying with you, Alfred. I'll stay with you forever." He told me as he walked up the steps, leaving me crouched down on my own step, staring up after him.
"Oh? Why would you stay?" I asked, enjoying the sight I had of his ass as he walked away. When he was gone, I sighed softly and listened to his light-hearted response.
"Because I love you." He said, and I smiled more.
"Like nothing else, right?" I asked, and I heard his laugh echo through the house. I smiled more, then got up, "I'll be outside, Matthew."
"Alright!" He replied, and I walked down the wooden steps and out into the backyard, noticing the sky was still pretty dark from the storm clouds that were slowly dissipating. The rain then was light, more like a mist, really, so I walked out to my corn to make sure no lightning struck my fields. After making sure my crops were still alive, I walked through them, towards Matthew's circle of Forget-Me-Nots. I saw Matthew there already, laying on his stomach and smiling at the little seedlings. I sat on the opposite side of the circle, and he looked up at me and smiled more.
"Are they growing?" I asked, worried that Matthew would become depressed again. He shook his head no, but his smile still stayed.
"But that's okay. I'm in no rush to leave." He said, resting his cheek on his arms and looking down at the flowers. He fingered one of the green seedlings, brushing against the small leaf delicately. I watched him silently, my thoughts still consumed by that pale, white haired man.
"Hey, so... that man wanted to kill you?" I asked, and Matthew's smile wavered slightly before he looked up at me.
"Yeah. He wants me dead." Matthew mumbled, crossing his arms under his cheek and looking up at me with his violet eyes.
"Why does he want that?" I asked, and Matthew turned his eyes back towards his seedlings as he thought. When he seemed satisfied with an answer, his ever-happy violet eyes finally turned sad, the colors flowing slower than usual.
"He's a bad man, I guess... One of the bad men Dad told me about." Matthew muttered, and I felt my heart skip a beat at the thought of someone coming to try and take my Matthew away.
"Why would they want you dead, though? Is there something wrong with having stars on Earth?" I questioned softly, and Matthew shook his head no.
"Of course not! You're a star, but you haven't been hunted down!" Matthew pointed out, and I felt myself roll my eyes. When I realized I had done so, I regained eye contact with what looked like a very shocked and angry Matthew.
"You are a star, Alfred." He said, giving me a warning look as he turned his head slightly to the right, still keeping eye contact. I nodded quickly, not wanting to piss him off at all.
"I know, I know. It's just... It's taking me a while to remember. I'm so used to being human." I lied, and Matthew seemed pleased by this answer. His eyes turned lighter, but they were still sad, and he turned back to his seedlings. He began telling them a story of star-kind, still determined to get them to grow from his breath. I listened for a while, but it was a story my Papa had told me before, so I got a little bored. It wasn't the same, but it was close. It went kind of like this, and this is my Papa's version:
One day, a young star that had yet to shine decided to come down to the Earth to play. He wasn't the first star to visit, oh no, but he was the second one to successfully arrive. He wasn't alone. He had the humans to learn from, and the old star that had now aged to their eighties to live with. The elder star told his young counterpart to go back home, to go back and fulfill his life in the sky, but the young star didn't listen. He played around on Earth, frolicking with the other children and learning more and more about the world there. He was happy, so happy that he had forgotten his true origins, much like the humans on Earth. When he was a young man, another star came to visit, digging up old memories of the sky and life above. The self-proclaimed 'human' fell to his knees before the star, begging to return to the sky with the visiting star. The star denied him, saying that if he had forgotten how to return, then he is truly no longer a star.
The man was heartbroken. All those memories haunted him for the rest of his life as a human, and every night he would go to where he found the star and pray that he would be brought back to the sky. He died there one night from a heart attack, and after his death, the star that had originally denied him access into the sky returned, and he carried the corpse into the space above them, allowing him to spend his death floating about in the sky.
And now, Matthew's version:
There was once a young star who had yet to start glowing. He decided he wanted to venture out onto the Earth their mother had left them, and he fell down to the surface that very night. When he arrived, he found the place flourishing with life, and the child decided to stay. He was never so intrigued with anything like this before, and he was determined to thrive on this planet. He grew up hunting and gathering and building, and he was so focused that he didn't realize the stars coming down to join him. Eventually, they had a whole community, made of the stars who just wanted to see what Earth was like.
They let their minds wander, though, and soon they had forgotten their true origins. They bred and continued to thrive on this planet, developing fast into a overgrown population. One night, while the original visitor was on his deathbed, he remembered life in the sky. He cried to himself, wishing with the last of his strength to return to the sky in order to continue living, but his cries were never heard. He was left to die in the world he so foolishly created.
As he forgot the stars, the stars forsaken him in return.
I have to say, Matthew's version was a little more sad, but I was more fond of Papa's rendition. Matthew continued whispering to the seedlings afterwards, sad expression still present.
"Mattie?" I called out, getting his attention once more. We were both silent as we stared at eachother, then I let out a slow sigh and stood up, "It's nothing. I'm going to go make breakfast, okay? Don't stay out too long."
Matthew smiled a little, then turned back to his seedlings, still talking to them. I went towards the house, and as I walked, I felt a light breeze hit my arms. I looked back towards the corn, unable to see Matthew through the stalks, but I did feel as though I was being watched. It was strange, of course, but I didn't fret about it. I just went back inside and proceeded to make myself some food.
After some time, Matthew came back inside, his shorts and t-shirt a little dirty from the semi-wet dirt outside. It had rained last night, of course.
"Alfred?" He called out, and I looked at him over my shoulder as I made some eggs, "Can we go to town again? I'm bored."
"Sure. After breakfast." I said, continuing to cook. Matthew's nose crinkled, and he looked into the pan from over my shoulder. He let out a slow sigh, then looked over me and frowned more.
"I'll get dressed." He muttered before turning and marching upstairs.
"Wear something warm! It rained yesterday, so it'll still be chilly." I called out, watching the eggs sizzle until they were done. I scooped them onto a plate and began eating. When I was almost done, Matthew came back downstairs with a beanie, one of my sweaters, and some jeans that were also mine. He wore sandals, but I didn't scold him about it. I knew he hated socks and shoes.
"I'm ready. Let's go." He said eagerly, taking my hand and pulling me up from my seat. I laughed softly and tugged my hand back, scooping the rest of my eggs into my mouth before dropping the dishes into the sink. Matthew was already out the front door by the time I pulled my shoes and a jacket on, and when I stepped out, I saw him on my tractor, sitting impatiently.
He had become fond of the townspeople, I think. It's more like observing them than being one of them, but he enjoys it all the same. I like seeing him happy, too. He gets a lot of attention there. Most of the townsfolk had grown to love him like I had.
Well, maybe not like I had, but they definitely like him.
When we arrived on my tractor, I had to park near the town entrance because of a street hockey game going on in the main road. The pre-teens and children were all participating, and a few adults stood on the sidewalks, rooting their 'teams' on. Matthew immediately became interested, so I let him watch for a while. He looked confused, and I tried explaining it to him, but since I didn't really understand the sport either, I didn't help much.
Suddenly, in the middle of the game, one of the kids was shoved and she twisted her ankle. All the adults gasped and whispered, and her mother ran out into the road to help her up and away from the still playing children. The game had to stop when the leader of the short-handed team shouted out, "We're short one! We need one more, or you get rid of one!"
This started a short debate over whether or not the short-handed team should be disqualified for not having enough, or if the other team should get rid of a player.
"I'll play!" Matthew called out, cutting the spat short and getting all of their eyes.
"Do you know how to play?" The team captain of the smaller team questioned, and Matthew shook his head no.
"But I'm a fast learner! I promise!" Matthew said, walking out into the road. I tried to stop him, whispering to him that he'll get hurt, but he paid me no mind. The team leader agreed and quickly explained the game, slapping a helmet on Matthew's head and shoving a hockey stick into his hand. Matthew gripped the stick tightly and put a hand on the helmet, smiling as the game was explained.
When they started up again, I got really nervous. I was afraid Matthew would get beat up or hurt somehow within the first five minutes, and I really didn't want to see Matthew in pain.
I was completely taken by surprise when Matthew shot the puck directly between the opposite team's goalie's knees barely a minute into the game. I don't know much about hockey, so bear with me here. Throughout the next thirty minutes, he kept getting goals or whatever they're called, and he kept knocking people over like it was nothing. He looked so excited, too, and all of his teammates were practically singing their praise.
When the game was done, Matthew's team won by a landslide. The team leader inviting Matthew to play with them more often when the blonde came to stand with me, and he just smiled and nodded.
"I'll think about it." He said politely, and the children scattered. When they were all gone, Matthew turned to me with thrill in his eyes, "That was amazing! It was so much fun!"
I laughed a little, taking his hand in my own and walking with him down the sidewalk. "I'm glad you had fun." I muttered, stroking the back of his hand gently. Matthew laughed and nodded, squeezing my hand and walking close to me. A few people stared. I felt a little uncomfortable.
"You should've played too. I bet you would've liked it." Matthew suggested, and I shook my head.
"I don't really like hockey, I'm not good at it." I said modestly, and Matthew snorted and tugged on my arm a little.
"Never know until you try!" He told me, and I smiled in response. He peered over my shoulder after, looking at something behind me. When I turned, I saw he was looking at the pottery shop again, the one owned by the old woman. The carpenters were still there, just finishing up, and the old woman was sitting on her porch. From the distance, it looked like she was rubbing a grey stuffed cat. I looked back at Matthew and raised a brow.
"Do you want to go over there?" I asked him, and he looked up at me for a minute, then back at the woman. He gripped my hand and started pulling me over, and I followed him wordlessly until we reached the porch. When we arrived in front of her, she smiled at us and waved a shaky hand. She was probably suffering from arthritis, but no amount of pain would stop her from making plates and cups. She loved it so much, you could see it in her eyes.
"Hello, Harold. Coming to buy some more plates?" She asked, her voice slow and shaking just as much as her hands. I smiled at her, and Matthew gave me a confused look.
"I'm just showing Matthew here your work." I said, emphasizing his name in hopes she would remember. Her blue eyes jumped to Matthew, and she let out a happy cry, extending her wrinkled hand to him and patting his shoulder.
"Oh, Harold, you brought your little girlfriend?" She giggled slowly, and Matthew turned bright red.
"I'm a boy!" He squeaked and I squeezed his arm gently.
"Matthew, it's okay. She isn't completely there." I whispered, and he looked even more confused.
"She looks completely there." He muttered, and she started laughing again. She resumed working on what I found out wasn't a stuffed cat and was instead clay that she was shaping into a vase. Matthew and I stepped onto the porch and she turned to face us, letting go of her spinning vase.
"Harold!" She called out, and I turned to her. Matthew stepped into her shop and started looking through the ceramics, interest all over his face.
"Yes, ma'am?" I replied, going up to her and allowing her to stroke my cheek.
"You look so much like your Papa." She observed, smiling shakily as her leathery fingers touched me, and I just smiled back, "Oh, your Papa was such a lovely man..."
"Was he?" I entertained her, patting her hand and letting it drop down to her lap. She nodded weakly and made a small noise in the back of her throat, as if agreeing with herself.
"I want to give you something. A gift." She said, then lifted a bony finger to the register inside of her shop. I made my way over, glancing back at her to see her smiling happily. When I stood behind the register, I saw a beautifully crafted glass vase beneath it with a tag that said: "Made with love. It will keep the flowers you put in it living as long as there's love to feed them -F"
I lifted the vase and she cooed happily, clapping her hands together, "That's the one, Harold! I want to give it to you and your girlfriend!"
"What? Are you sure?" I asked, looking over the vase in shock. The thing looked like it was carved out of crystal, with very fine, very detailed designs going down the corners of little flowers and leaves. In fact, they looked like Forget-Me-Nots.
"Yes, yes, I want you to have it!" She said with a smile, and Matthew came to my side. As we stood together, she smiled wider and gasped, bringing her hands up to her cheeks.
"You look so beautiful together..." She complimented us, and Matthew blushed. He looked down at the vase and carefully took it from me, examining the thing and looking absolutely taken. I decided I'd keep it, since it made Matthew so happy.
"Alright, ma'am. Thank you so much for the present." I said, slipping a twenty out from my wallet and putting it in the register, "I'll take good care of it."
"Thank you, Harold." She sighed happily, turning back to her vase. As Matthew and I left, Matthew holding the vase, he turned to me and quirked a curious brow.
"Who was that lady?" He asked, and I shook my head.
"She went senile before she told me her name, and the townspeople don't like to talk about her." I answered, and Matthew frowned.
"Why wouldn't they? She's so interesting and nice!" Matthew claimed, looking over his shoulder at her as she molded the clay, "And she gives free things!"
I laughed softly and soon we reached the tractor. We got in and I started the engine, heading back to the house.
"She is very nice. I guess something happened before I got here, I dunno. I like her, though." I said honestly.
When we arrived home, Matthew replaced the vase holding the Forget-Me-Nots with the one the old woman gave us, then smiled and kissed the vase.
"What are you doing?" I asked him, only to get a light laugh and a small smile as he replied with:
"I'm giving the vase love! It says to!"