shadowed [seven]
Shadowed
Status: completed
Warnings: LOTS of them; see tags
Rating: R
Word Count: 102k
Why would he do it? Why would he willingly submit to Eric when the others freak him out just when he hears their name? It's not that he'd even submitted to Eric - it's the fact that he'd participated. He doesn't like this, at all, and - not once in the year and a half that his father has made him do this - has he ever actually enjoyed it in the heat of the moment.
He muffles his sob, covering it up with a flimsy cough that he hopes won't wake Eric from the other side of the room.
He came. He came, for the first time since the first time. His body responded without his okay.
"Matt?" comes Eric's soft voice through the dark. Matt rubs his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. "Matt, are you all right"
"Fine," Matt answers, but his stuffy nose gives him away. Eric's bed creaks as he sits up.
"What's wrong?" he says, and Matt can't help jumping when Eric sits down on the bed.
"Nothing." Matt decides not to comment on the fact that Eric is treating him like a little girl, rubbing his back and caressing his hair. Matt closes his eyes, letting the soothing circles Eric's drawing on his back calm him as much as they can. "It's-I don't-" God, this is hard. "Normally, I don't…"
"Get off?" Eric offers softly, not once faltering in his rhythm. Matt nods. "It's okay. Your body wanted it, so your mind gave in. How long has it been since you got off last?" Matt doesn't answer. "If it's been that long," Eric says, a humorous lilt to his voice, "it's time to get some. It's okay, Matt. It's a natural reaction."
"From a whore?" Matt says, staring at the wall. He's stopped crying, thank God, but he still sounds like he's freaked - which he is. Eric's hand stops and pulls away.
He sighs as he says, "You're not a-"
But Matt interrupts him. "I swear to God, I'll bite your dick off if you tell me I'm not," Matt says, surprised at the venom in his voice. He doesn't talk like that. He's never had the gall to talk like that. It has to be Eric. It all feels so normal to be with him, like it's… like he's actually in the relationship.
Eric doesn't say anything for a while, then says, voice still soothing, "You're not-I don't think of it like that."
"Give it time," Matt says, voice flattened now. "You'll be like the others soon enough."
With a frustrated sigh, Eric forces him to roll over. "I don't want to be like the others. Yeah, the rent for me to stay here is outrageously high because your father's making me pay for every hour I'm alone with you, but-I don't want to use you every moment of every day you're not off with someone else.
"I… I want to be with you, Matt. Like a real relationship. Like… like what regular people do."
Matt scoffs. "You want my ass," he says. "Don't give me that relationship crap; I know you don't mean it."
Eric leans forward and kisses Matt, soft again, but hard enough that Matt knows he's trying to drive his point home. Unfortunately, Matt's well tuned into his sanity once again, and it has the opposite effect. Matt prides his body on flinching this time.
"You've been hurt," Eric says with a tone that sounds as hurt as he seems to think Matt is. "I know you've been hurt, your dad went through lists of what the other clients make you do. I'm not going to treat you like a bad dog, or, or gang bang you, or drug you or anything like that. I'm not that kind of guy, Matt, and I actually like you."
"Go back to bed," Matt surprises himself by saying. He's not sure if Eric's the one making him feel this way or if the fact that the guy really has no idea what to say to make someone feel better.
Eric hesitates. "I could stay with you."
"Please, Eric," Matt begs. "Go back to bed." He curls back in on himself as Eric sighs, but he stands up after a moment. Matt lets out a shaky breath when the springs of Eric's bed squeak again, and Eric falls asleep soon enough. He doesn't bother Matt again.
The next morning, Matt doesn't wake up to his father's pounding footsteps on the floor. Instead he wakes up to Eric's mouth around his dick, wet and warm and immediately the nausea comes back full force. He jerks back, kneeing Eric in the chest. Thankfully, he just moans and pulls back; his teeth don't clamp down until after he's pulled away. "Okay, never doing that again…" Eric says, looking up at Matt, who's hastily shoving himself back into his pants. "What's wrong?"
"You just - you can't do that!" Matt says almost angrily. Eric sits back on his heels, massaging his chest. "I don't - please, don't. Not again."
Eric sighs. "Why-"
"Please," Matt says, his voice taking on a desperate tone, as he looks Eric in the eyes. "Just-don't."
Eric sort of chuckles. "But I was trying to-"
"You can't heal me by sucking me off!" Matt barks. He takes a moment, then says, "I have to get to school."
Nodding, Eric stands up from the bed as though nothing had happened. "I could take you."
"Too risky," Matt finds himself saying as he stands up as well, searching around the room for one of his t-shirts and a pair of socks. "Besides, I'll be picked up this afternoon anyway."
Eric sighs. "Another client?" Matt nods. "All right. I'll see you… later, then."
"Tomorrow afternoon," Matt says, then immediately wishes he hadn't. Eric nods as Matt leaves.
It's fifteen below when Matt steps outside, but it feels much worse. He's so caught up in how Eric's made him feel, and how his skin is sticking to the inside of his boxers that he doesn't even really notice that his toes are frozen by the time he gets to the school.
After a day in which the girls had a catfight in the cafeteria over one of the foreign exchange students from Poland, Liam was berated by a substitute that found him flirting while she was giving a lecture, and Matt found himself failing fifth period Physical Science, he's glad to find Dallas in the parking lot. He's come to expect it - not that Dallas is acting particularly normal or anything.
"How's the roommate going?" is his first question. Matt had managed to keep from thinking about Eric all day, but Dallas' question sends him right back to that morning.
"Not great," he says, shifting in his seat. His penis still feels like it's trying to crawl back inside him. "It's..."
"What, what's up?" Dallas sounds concerned; Matt sighs.
"He tried to suck me off," he says softly, almost painfully, leaning his head against the passenger window. Dallas watches him intently. "Woke up and he was going at it."
"Christ," Dallas mumbles, rubbing at his forehead. "Is that the worst he's done?"
Matt nods, unwilling to talk about the incident before that. "Besides that, it's… I… It's weird." Dallas stays silent, probably in anticipation of Matt wanting to say something else, but he doesn't, so he shifts his car out of park and guns it out of the parking lot.
He shrugs and his spine cracks in relief. "On a scale of one to ten," Dallas asks in a much more relaxed voice, "one being me and ten being... Bill, how vicious is he?"
Matt thinks about it. Except for the sex, Matt thinks, he's very much like Dallas. Eric only wants Matt to be safe. Except for the fact that he actually wants to have sex with Matt, that is. "I don't know. A two, two and a half, maybe?"
Dallas glances at him. "Really? That low? The way you were talking about him the other night, I kind of expected him to be…" He clears his throat. "Anyway. So he's not that bad, then?"
"No. Just a sex crazed version of you, kind of. A sex crazed version of you willing to buy an underage prostitute, I mean."
"You're not a prostitute," Dallas says. Unlike with Eric, Matt finds himself actually believing Dallas, just a little bit. Matt still shifts in his seat uncomfortably, and Dallas speeds up just the littlest bit. "All right, I'm not gonna make you talk about anything that you don't want to talk about. Not right now, at least."
They don't speak for the rest of the ride to Dallas' house, the only noise being that of the hum of the Volvo's engine, low and rumbly and rhythmic.
"It's sort of a mess," Dallas says in regards to his house when he's unlocking the front door. "Sorry about it. I had, some, uh… Issues? There's this room I have that I haven't been in since Alex…" He clears his throat again. "Enough about that, though, right?" Matt silently wonders what kind of issues, but he doesn't want to press the issue, especially when Dallas had done the same thing to him moments before. Besides… He's kind of afraid of the answer.
"Luckily," Dallas tells him once the door is closed behind them. Matt still smells the distinct odor of vomit in the entryway, but doesn't comment on it. "The hours you have with me haven't changed, despite your father's… roommate… so, until tomorrow afternoon, you don't have to worry about it. And I managed to get you until three on Saturday this week, so there's that, too." He sighs as he pulls his shoes off. "It's not much, but…" He looks at Matt with an unreadable look in his eyes. "If your father ever offers me discount hours, I'll take 'em. Anything to get you away from creep central."
"You didn't have to,"
Dallas chuckles dryly. "Pretty sure that I've gone far past have to and I'm making my way towards obligation. Don't worry." He clears his throat again. "What was it you were going to tell me?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The other day, at your high school. You said something went over and you'd tell me about it later." He raises his eyebrows. "This is definitely later."
Matt remembers, but somehow, he imagines that it would only make their situation worse. "I think we'd all benefit more if you didn't know."
"Come on, Matt, tell me," Dallas says, but try as he might, Matt keeps his mouth shut. "Come on. If it was important at the school-"
With a sigh, Matt rubs at his face. "Liam reported you to the counselor. That's why there was a cop."
Dallas shakes his head in confusion. "What do you mean, reported me?"
Matt hesitates. "He thought you were abusing me." It's actually kind of fun to watch the emotions change on Dallas' face - confusion to recognition to anger to repulsion to confusion again.
"Why the hell would he think that?"
"Come on!" Matt exclaims before taking a moment to regain his composure. Dallas paces back and forth in the entryway. Matt doesn't even have his shoes off yet. "He notices the bruises about every three months, but since he started going with the idea that you and I were dating, he started thinking that maybe you were… You know." He coughs awkwardly. "In his book, it's probably like admitting to the crime. Just because he thinks we're together, his mind immediately goes to you being the most likely suspect."
Biting at his fingernails, Dallas keeps pacing. "Great!" he says. "I'm screwed now. They're gonna find out, your dad's gonna find out and he's gonna kill us both."
With a groan, Matt falls back onto the bench. "Would you let me finish? I had to talk to the counselor. She wanted me to tell her, but I'm not stupid enough to lie to her about that, especially when it won't help either one of us."
Dallas breathes a sigh of relief and drops into the chair. Matt feels his heartbeat steadily go back to normal. "Why didn't you tell me this had a happy ending?"
"Because it doesn't," Matt says, rubbing at his face. This is all getting so complicated. "This means that I have to find a way to keep myself out of Jon's reach so he stops before he does anything else, and do something so that people, namely Liam, stop framing you." The tick of the clock echoes in silence for a while before Dallas exhales slowly.
"Okay… What do you… Do you have any ideas or anything?"
To be honest, he doesn't. There are hundreds of possibilities that Matt can work his way through before he finds a flaw. Eric turning him in, Daemon giving him away, Jon getting suspicious, Bill, Rick or Harlan getting suspicious, any number of possibilities that end in Matt's death, possibilities that end in Jon getting angry and selling him to Bill or Rick or hell, even Harlan, none of which sound particularly appealing. How is he supposed to make his father happy without making him suspicious that something's going on - even if it isn't? Matt's trying to save all of them from having to testify in court (although he's not sure why he's trying to do such nice things for Harlan, Bill, and Rick) and every thought that comes into his head ultimately ends with Jon's suspicion getting the best of it.
Because of this, Matt doesn't answer for a long time, and when he does, Dallas is sitting next to him, head in his hands, muttering under his breath. It almost looks like he's praying. Matt clears his throat before he says, "Not really." Dallas lets a low whistle out between his lips. He claps his hands on his knees and stands up from the bench. He stands like he's hesitating, like he doesn't know what he's going to do or say, then nods, decisively.
"I'm going to call in a pizza order," he says, then leaves. Matt feels terrible, like he's pulled out his heart.
For the rest of the night, they don't talk about it again.
Eric's watching from the kitchen window when Dallas drops Matt off that Saturday. "You're sure about this?" Dallas asks, peering over his sunglasses at Eric, arm draped across the steering wheel. He looks calm. Matt knows better.
Exhaling from his nose, Matt nods. "Yeah."
"'Cause, I mean, I might be able to pull some strings." He clears his throat but doesn't move. "I know some people." His voice is quiet; Matt wonders if he's being serious or not.
Eric looks ominous; Matt's surprised by the expression on his face. He turns back to Dallas, who hasn't moved an inch. "I'm sure," Matt tells him, hoping he sounds firm enough, hoping the shaking in his hands won't give him away. "I can't keep asking for your help, you know."
Dallas grumbles. Matt ignores him. "Fine, but if you come back lookin' like hamburger meat, I'm calling the cops."
Matt nods, placing his hand on the door handle. The door unlocks quietly. Matt turns his head to see Dallas biting at his fingers again. "I'll be careful, I promise."
With a snort, Dallas looks down at his lap. "That means virtually nothing going up against your father, you know."
Trying not to pay attention to the way his heart thumps against his chest, Matt says, "I'll see you Tuesday, then."
"Definitely," Dallas says with a slow nod. "Call me if you need me." Matt doesn't mention to him that he kind of can't, not when he's on constant surveillance and he's not allowed to use the telephone, and he doesn't tell him goodbye, either. It's too final. He gets that it's not only Jon's clients freak Dallas out, but also Matt's attitude about the whole situation. Unfortunately, Dallas doesn't seem to understand that his freaking out triggers bad anxiety and paranoia in Matt as well.
Matt's not so stupid that he's deluded himself into thinking that this is a normal family situation or anything. He knows how abnormal it all is; how crazed and creepy Jon intentionally comes off as… People - normal, sane people at least - don't do this sort of thing.
He's not even talking about the clients, even if they're the ones that Matt should really be focusing on. It's all such a terrifying prospect, though, the inner-workings of a pedophile's mind… Matt can't focus on that sort of thing. It's easier to deal with his own shortcomings.
Dallas' car doesn't move the entire time it takes Matt to get to the front door, but he at least starts the engine when Matt reaches the porch.
He hardly has the doorknob turned when Eric attacks him, all arms and legs and annoyingly wet lips at his mouth, ears, and neck. Daemon barks loudly from the living room, dulled by the overwhelming sense of Eric all over the place. "I missed you," he whispers in Matt's ear, wrapping his arms around his back tightly. Matt can still hear the low rumbling of Dallas' car engine behind him on the street; the rhythmic clunk that he hasn't fixed yet.
To drive his point home - I'm going to go through with this , he thinks, even if it seems like he's trying to convince himself - Matt kicks the door shut with his foot. Eric's grip tightens as he does it, but he pulls away quickly regardless.
Matt swallows, then says, "You, too," unable to bring himself to utter the actual words to Eric's face. Eric almost looks surprised, though, yet has the decency to try to hide it. Matt isn't sure whether he prefers that or not. "Could we-I need to talk to you. Could we maybe talk in our room?" He tries chuckling to ease the tension. It doesn't work. "I think it'd be easier for me to talk in there."
The confused look Eric sends him almost makes him second guess his decision. Luckily, it doesn't last very long. "Of course. Sure."
Matt tries not to look nervous as he follows Eric to their room. Looking as though he's ready to bolt won't help the situation in any possible way. It's not like he's terribly freaked out or anything, not like he'd expected to be when he'd get back; Eric doesn't seem to be a threat, and if he were, Matt's almost sure that he could take Eric on if he needed to, not that he particularly wants to or anything. There's comfort in that fact. The fact that Eric doesn't seem the type to be schooled in self-defense, he means; one man's loss is another man's gain.
He tries not to appear nervous. When Eric closes and locks the door behind him, upon seeing Matt's face, he asks, "Is everything all right?"
Matt takes a deep breath and pulls Eric to him by his collar into a kiss. It's different than what he's used to with Eric; initiating and responding are two different actions, and until Eric takes over, Matt feels terribly out of his element. Eric certainly has one up on him.
As he's pulling at Matt's jeans, he asks, in between kissing and sucking at Matt's neck, "What-exactly-brought-this on?"
Smiling, albeit a little shakily, Matt forces his mind to come up with something. "Well, you know-sometimes some things sound better after you think about it a while," he says, sighing when Eric's lips return to his neck. Good, he thinks, it worked. Eric's fingers brush over the top of his boxers and his hips buck involuntarily. What-
"Wow, you're not kidding!" Eric sounds… proud, almost. Like he's amazed at Matt's sudden one-eighty from being concerned and worried to being the initiator. He chuckles, then looks up at Matt from beneath his eyelashes. "So, do you think I could blow you now?"
The words are crude, Matt knows, but familiar. He's heard worse, and while never in a question format, it's nothing compared to some of the things Rick or Bill say. He doesn't want Eric to - really doesn't want him to if it's going to be anything like it was the other night - but any possible alternatives sound unlikely (Eric backing off right this second, despite Matt having initiated) or worse (his father deciding to do regarding Matt's noncompliance), so he takes a deep breath, nods, and goes with it.
"History test today," Liam says to him first thing the next morning. After the night he'd had with Eric, Matt feels like his body had been torn apart and stitched back together with dull needles. It's a lot to endure, Matt forgets, and it's been a long time since he's felt the effects this long after. He must be getting old.
"If you don't have anything better than small talk," Matt tells him in a low voice, almost inaudible, "you might as well save it 'cause I don't wanna hear it."
Liam hesitates, then offers him a grin. "Nah. I just needed an in."
Matt closes his locker before turning to him. At least he's not scared. Matt had almost been afraid of that before. Liam doesn't normally get scared or put-off by Matt, but sometimes… "You done acting like you know me?"
The confused look Matt's seen a lot lately settles on Liam's face. "What-Don't I?"
"Say no and butt out and we're good again," Matt hears himself say, almost surprised that he was speaking.
Liam's not a stupid man. He never has been. Matt imagines it comes from weekday afternoons spent in AP and Honors courses. Sure, he acts like it, sometimes. He sounds like he's stupid, and the first semester they were friends, Matt was actually surprised when they got their grades and Liam had straight A's. Now, he proves his intelligence by clapping Matt's shoulder and nodding. "All right. I know jack about you. As long as we're back to normal again."
Matt manages to flash him a smile. "As normal as we can be, right?"
Laughing, Liam swings an arm around Matt's shoulders and asks, "How's Dallas?" like nothing's wrong - and Matt answers like nothing's wrong. He lies his way through details about Dallas, feeling oddly normal. People don't stare at them as they walk down the hallway. When they stop at the gym for third-hour Physical Education, Liam's smiling for real.
To his surprise, so is Matt.
Over the next two weeks, Liam treats him like what Matt would imagine normal friends treat each other like. He invites him over for movie nights and tells him about parties and asks him to study groups, and when Matt tells him he can't make it, Liam complains, but doesn't ever ask why. He's friendly and keeping his distance; just like Matt had wanted him to do.
It's not that he doesn't appreciate Liam's concern, because he does, really. It's just that, sometimes, the guy can go a little overboard and Matt starts panicking. He doesn't want anyone in on this than who absolutely has to be in on this. It's not something Matt's necessarily comfortable with anyway, and telling everyone else would just be a terrible idea, especially considering the fact that, had it not been for Dallas in the first place, he wouldn't even be thinking about leaving.
The next time Matt sees Dallas, his eyes are sunken in, his hair is withered and dry, his eyes are bloodshot, and he can barely grip the steering wheel. It's scary, seeing him like this. It's worse than that time he almost had a breakdown in his car when he picked Matt up from school one of the first afternoons they were together.
"You look worse than I do," Matt tells him as he gets into the passenger seat of Dallas' car, "And I look terrible."
Dallas clears his throat, and when he speaks, his throat sounds rusty, like he hadn't talked in days, or he'd talked too much. "Long days and longer nights," he replies. He doesn't really say anything the entire ride back to his home, and, surprisingly, doesn't even ask Matt how his day went or anything. He burns rubber as he leaves the school parking lot and keeps his eyes on the road the entire drive, biting at his fingernails until his car is safely parked in his driveway.
"You're okay, right?" Matt asks, when Dallas doesn't move from his car. He nods slowly in response, as though out of the conversation entirely. "You're not exactly doing a good job of convincing me."
Unfortunately for Matt, Dallas doesn't respond to him after that. Instead, he gets out of his car and rushes across his front lawn to get to his door. Matt follows as quickly as he can, almost forgetting to lock his door in the process. It's not like Matt had been expecting much, but Dallas doesn't say anything upon opening the door or getting inside, either. He doesn't open his mouth, in any sense of the phrase, until he's just standing in the entryway, without his coat or shoes.
"Something's come up," he says lowly, his voice almost monotone and devoid of emotion. He doesn't move beyond turning his head to look at the ground, but Matt feels as though his own body, which has seemed to undergo panic mode, is making up for it. "I have to go to Los Angeles for a few months."
"Los Angeles?"
Nodding, Dallas takes a seat on the bench. Matt feels himself relax just the tiniest bit seeing the older man move. "Los Angeles." His voice takes on an abnormally apologetic tone as he continues to speak. "There's this part in a movie they want me to play. It's the first live action film I've done since Alex died, and, and…" He sighs. "There's no way for me to say this and not sound like a jackass."
Despite the terror threatening to tremble through him, Matt says, "Don't worry about it," in the most courageous, nonchalant tone he can manage. "Gotta keep the money coming in somehow… Especially since you've spent tens or hundreds of thousands on me alone and the bills here, they, they can't exactly be cheap." In all honesty, Matt hates to think how much money Dallas has given his father, or how much of it has been gambled or drank or prostituted away. The amount already has to be more than he can imagine, more than he'd ever thought he'd be worth.
But then again, it's not exactly Matt all these old men are after, is it?
Dallas interrupts his thoughts with a snort. "Please. I've got the money." He rubs at his face with both hands and sighs. "I've even got the money to take you with, but-it's just-" He looks up at Matt. "Jon's got it in his head that I'll be too busy filming to actually watch over you or even utilize you for any… favors, and you'll, I don't know, get out of my fucking trailer and run away or something." His voice is quiet; Matt has to strain to hear him.
Despite his initial reaction, Matt can't really act surprise. Jon's kept Matt on a short leash for years now, and no amount of Matt's obvious loyalty to his father has changed that. He still only barely ever lets him out, and the only reason he's still letting Matt go to school is because he's required to go by law. "How long?" Matt finally asks, when the silence starts to settle in and ache in his ears.
Dallas hesitates before he answers. "Nothing's set in stone, you have to remember that. It's, the quickness of some movies are determined by how fast the actors work through the scenes. Basically, we have the-"
"Dallas," Matt hears himself say, "How long?"
Sighing, Dallas looks back at the floor and hesitates, stalls. He takes a few deep breaths. "It could be as little as one month and as many as nine," he says softly, apologetic again. "I'm sorry."
Nine months without Dallas' safety net, without his time to take away from the others. Before meeting Dallas, Matt would have laughed at the idea of a sanctuary, some private place to gather his thoughts and wits. Now, he's going a little crazy just thinking of going without it.
"Nine months," he says, avoiding Dallas' eyes. "That doesn't sound so bad." He scratches at his forehead. Not bad, he thinks. Yeah, right. I'll be freaked before the first week's out.
"I'm really sorry, Matt,"
"Look," Matt says, hoping the venom stays out of his voice. "Don't worry about it."
For the rest of the night, Dallas keeps sending him guilty glances, like he's ready to call off his appearance for filming despite Matt's words - had he not been reassuring or confident enough to get through to Dallas? - but when Dallas' Volvo is parked across the street from Jon's house, Dallas resting his head against the steering wheel like he's got a headache, Matt knows it's for real.
"When do you leave?" Matt hears himself ask as he grasps the door handle. This feels far too final for him, despite the fact that it's not supposed to be.
"A few weeks. Jon's already got plans for all your free time," he says through clenched teeth. His knuckles are white against the steering wheel.
"What kind of plans?"
Dallas slams his fist into the steering wheel, the horn surprising both of them. After taking a few breaths to cool himself down, he says, "I'm-he didn't tell me about any of the plans. He kept giving me some bullshit about it being confidential when not negotiating times." He slams his fist into his wheel again. "I'm so fucking sick of Jon and his sick fucking games."
Matt stays silent. Nine months. Nine whole months with Eric and Jon and Bill and Harlan and Rick without any time to even breathe unless he's at school, and even then, Liam could turn another one eighty and he could be breathing down Matt's neck as well. Matt has to tell himself that things won't change while Dallas is gone; it's the only way to calm his heartbeat, and the only way he knows of to keep his sanity.
"Are you sure you're going to be okay?"
Still uncertain, Matt manages to nod. "I'll be fine," he says with faux-nonchalance. "Eric's… Sort of cooled down a little, if I'm lucky, maybe it'll stay that way." Truthfully, it probably won't. Eric's young, he'll probably get his libido back soon and he'll eventually want to get it on with Matt. Someday, it will stop being as 'happily ever after' as it is right now.
That thought almost depresses Matt as much as Dallas leaving does, but then he realizes that Dallas leaving is part of the same thing, and just finds himself back at the same place he was moments ago.
Dallas doesn't seem to believe his excuse, but Matt doesn't really care, not right now. It's risky - really, really risky - to leave him, but - what's the choice, really? Dallas has to do what he has to do, whether that includes Matt or not, and that definitely includes Matt's health and safety.
They don't talk about the issue again until the next time Dallas brings him home. "I leave in two weeks," Dallas tells him when he's parked - the exact same spot they were before. It's as though he's just extended the conversation. "I have a flight for the Monday after the weekend after next."
Matt's mouth makes the word on its own. "Okay."
And that's that.
Status: completed
Warnings: LOTS of them; see tags
Rating: R
Word Count: 102k
Why would he do it? Why would he willingly submit to Eric when the others freak him out just when he hears their name? It's not that he'd even submitted to Eric - it's the fact that he'd participated. He doesn't like this, at all, and - not once in the year and a half that his father has made him do this - has he ever actually enjoyed it in the heat of the moment.
He muffles his sob, covering it up with a flimsy cough that he hopes won't wake Eric from the other side of the room.
He came. He came, for the first time since the first time. His body responded without his okay.
"Matt?" comes Eric's soft voice through the dark. Matt rubs his nose on the sleeve of his shirt. "Matt, are you all right"
"Fine," Matt answers, but his stuffy nose gives him away. Eric's bed creaks as he sits up.
"What's wrong?" he says, and Matt can't help jumping when Eric sits down on the bed.
"Nothing." Matt decides not to comment on the fact that Eric is treating him like a little girl, rubbing his back and caressing his hair. Matt closes his eyes, letting the soothing circles Eric's drawing on his back calm him as much as they can. "It's-I don't-" God, this is hard. "Normally, I don't…"
"Get off?" Eric offers softly, not once faltering in his rhythm. Matt nods. "It's okay. Your body wanted it, so your mind gave in. How long has it been since you got off last?" Matt doesn't answer. "If it's been that long," Eric says, a humorous lilt to his voice, "it's time to get some. It's okay, Matt. It's a natural reaction."
"From a whore?" Matt says, staring at the wall. He's stopped crying, thank God, but he still sounds like he's freaked - which he is. Eric's hand stops and pulls away.
He sighs as he says, "You're not a-"
But Matt interrupts him. "I swear to God, I'll bite your dick off if you tell me I'm not," Matt says, surprised at the venom in his voice. He doesn't talk like that. He's never had the gall to talk like that. It has to be Eric. It all feels so normal to be with him, like it's… like he's actually in the relationship.
Eric doesn't say anything for a while, then says, voice still soothing, "You're not-I don't think of it like that."
"Give it time," Matt says, voice flattened now. "You'll be like the others soon enough."
With a frustrated sigh, Eric forces him to roll over. "I don't want to be like the others. Yeah, the rent for me to stay here is outrageously high because your father's making me pay for every hour I'm alone with you, but-I don't want to use you every moment of every day you're not off with someone else.
"I… I want to be with you, Matt. Like a real relationship. Like… like what regular people do."
Matt scoffs. "You want my ass," he says. "Don't give me that relationship crap; I know you don't mean it."
Eric leans forward and kisses Matt, soft again, but hard enough that Matt knows he's trying to drive his point home. Unfortunately, Matt's well tuned into his sanity once again, and it has the opposite effect. Matt prides his body on flinching this time.
"You've been hurt," Eric says with a tone that sounds as hurt as he seems to think Matt is. "I know you've been hurt, your dad went through lists of what the other clients make you do. I'm not going to treat you like a bad dog, or, or gang bang you, or drug you or anything like that. I'm not that kind of guy, Matt, and I actually like you."
"Go back to bed," Matt surprises himself by saying. He's not sure if Eric's the one making him feel this way or if the fact that the guy really has no idea what to say to make someone feel better.
Eric hesitates. "I could stay with you."
"Please, Eric," Matt begs. "Go back to bed." He curls back in on himself as Eric sighs, but he stands up after a moment. Matt lets out a shaky breath when the springs of Eric's bed squeak again, and Eric falls asleep soon enough. He doesn't bother Matt again.
The next morning, Matt doesn't wake up to his father's pounding footsteps on the floor. Instead he wakes up to Eric's mouth around his dick, wet and warm and immediately the nausea comes back full force. He jerks back, kneeing Eric in the chest. Thankfully, he just moans and pulls back; his teeth don't clamp down until after he's pulled away. "Okay, never doing that again…" Eric says, looking up at Matt, who's hastily shoving himself back into his pants. "What's wrong?"
"You just - you can't do that!" Matt says almost angrily. Eric sits back on his heels, massaging his chest. "I don't - please, don't. Not again."
Eric sighs. "Why-"
"Please," Matt says, his voice taking on a desperate tone, as he looks Eric in the eyes. "Just-don't."
Eric sort of chuckles. "But I was trying to-"
"You can't heal me by sucking me off!" Matt barks. He takes a moment, then says, "I have to get to school."
Nodding, Eric stands up from the bed as though nothing had happened. "I could take you."
"Too risky," Matt finds himself saying as he stands up as well, searching around the room for one of his t-shirts and a pair of socks. "Besides, I'll be picked up this afternoon anyway."
Eric sighs. "Another client?" Matt nods. "All right. I'll see you… later, then."
"Tomorrow afternoon," Matt says, then immediately wishes he hadn't. Eric nods as Matt leaves.
It's fifteen below when Matt steps outside, but it feels much worse. He's so caught up in how Eric's made him feel, and how his skin is sticking to the inside of his boxers that he doesn't even really notice that his toes are frozen by the time he gets to the school.
After a day in which the girls had a catfight in the cafeteria over one of the foreign exchange students from Poland, Liam was berated by a substitute that found him flirting while she was giving a lecture, and Matt found himself failing fifth period Physical Science, he's glad to find Dallas in the parking lot. He's come to expect it - not that Dallas is acting particularly normal or anything.
"How's the roommate going?" is his first question. Matt had managed to keep from thinking about Eric all day, but Dallas' question sends him right back to that morning.
"Not great," he says, shifting in his seat. His penis still feels like it's trying to crawl back inside him. "It's..."
"What, what's up?" Dallas sounds concerned; Matt sighs.
"He tried to suck me off," he says softly, almost painfully, leaning his head against the passenger window. Dallas watches him intently. "Woke up and he was going at it."
"Christ," Dallas mumbles, rubbing at his forehead. "Is that the worst he's done?"
Matt nods, unwilling to talk about the incident before that. "Besides that, it's… I… It's weird." Dallas stays silent, probably in anticipation of Matt wanting to say something else, but he doesn't, so he shifts his car out of park and guns it out of the parking lot.
He shrugs and his spine cracks in relief. "On a scale of one to ten," Dallas asks in a much more relaxed voice, "one being me and ten being... Bill, how vicious is he?"
Matt thinks about it. Except for the sex, Matt thinks, he's very much like Dallas. Eric only wants Matt to be safe. Except for the fact that he actually wants to have sex with Matt, that is. "I don't know. A two, two and a half, maybe?"
Dallas glances at him. "Really? That low? The way you were talking about him the other night, I kind of expected him to be…" He clears his throat. "Anyway. So he's not that bad, then?"
"No. Just a sex crazed version of you, kind of. A sex crazed version of you willing to buy an underage prostitute, I mean."
"You're not a prostitute," Dallas says. Unlike with Eric, Matt finds himself actually believing Dallas, just a little bit. Matt still shifts in his seat uncomfortably, and Dallas speeds up just the littlest bit. "All right, I'm not gonna make you talk about anything that you don't want to talk about. Not right now, at least."
They don't speak for the rest of the ride to Dallas' house, the only noise being that of the hum of the Volvo's engine, low and rumbly and rhythmic.
"It's sort of a mess," Dallas says in regards to his house when he's unlocking the front door. "Sorry about it. I had, some, uh… Issues? There's this room I have that I haven't been in since Alex…" He clears his throat again. "Enough about that, though, right?" Matt silently wonders what kind of issues, but he doesn't want to press the issue, especially when Dallas had done the same thing to him moments before. Besides… He's kind of afraid of the answer.
"Luckily," Dallas tells him once the door is closed behind them. Matt still smells the distinct odor of vomit in the entryway, but doesn't comment on it. "The hours you have with me haven't changed, despite your father's… roommate… so, until tomorrow afternoon, you don't have to worry about it. And I managed to get you until three on Saturday this week, so there's that, too." He sighs as he pulls his shoes off. "It's not much, but…" He looks at Matt with an unreadable look in his eyes. "If your father ever offers me discount hours, I'll take 'em. Anything to get you away from creep central."
"You didn't have to,"
Dallas chuckles dryly. "Pretty sure that I've gone far past have to and I'm making my way towards obligation. Don't worry." He clears his throat again. "What was it you were going to tell me?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The other day, at your high school. You said something went over and you'd tell me about it later." He raises his eyebrows. "This is definitely later."
Matt remembers, but somehow, he imagines that it would only make their situation worse. "I think we'd all benefit more if you didn't know."
"Come on, Matt, tell me," Dallas says, but try as he might, Matt keeps his mouth shut. "Come on. If it was important at the school-"
With a sigh, Matt rubs at his face. "Liam reported you to the counselor. That's why there was a cop."
Dallas shakes his head in confusion. "What do you mean, reported me?"
Matt hesitates. "He thought you were abusing me." It's actually kind of fun to watch the emotions change on Dallas' face - confusion to recognition to anger to repulsion to confusion again.
"Why the hell would he think that?"
"Come on!" Matt exclaims before taking a moment to regain his composure. Dallas paces back and forth in the entryway. Matt doesn't even have his shoes off yet. "He notices the bruises about every three months, but since he started going with the idea that you and I were dating, he started thinking that maybe you were… You know." He coughs awkwardly. "In his book, it's probably like admitting to the crime. Just because he thinks we're together, his mind immediately goes to you being the most likely suspect."
Biting at his fingernails, Dallas keeps pacing. "Great!" he says. "I'm screwed now. They're gonna find out, your dad's gonna find out and he's gonna kill us both."
With a groan, Matt falls back onto the bench. "Would you let me finish? I had to talk to the counselor. She wanted me to tell her, but I'm not stupid enough to lie to her about that, especially when it won't help either one of us."
Dallas breathes a sigh of relief and drops into the chair. Matt feels his heartbeat steadily go back to normal. "Why didn't you tell me this had a happy ending?"
"Because it doesn't," Matt says, rubbing at his face. This is all getting so complicated. "This means that I have to find a way to keep myself out of Jon's reach so he stops before he does anything else, and do something so that people, namely Liam, stop framing you." The tick of the clock echoes in silence for a while before Dallas exhales slowly.
"Okay… What do you… Do you have any ideas or anything?"
To be honest, he doesn't. There are hundreds of possibilities that Matt can work his way through before he finds a flaw. Eric turning him in, Daemon giving him away, Jon getting suspicious, Bill, Rick or Harlan getting suspicious, any number of possibilities that end in Matt's death, possibilities that end in Jon getting angry and selling him to Bill or Rick or hell, even Harlan, none of which sound particularly appealing. How is he supposed to make his father happy without making him suspicious that something's going on - even if it isn't? Matt's trying to save all of them from having to testify in court (although he's not sure why he's trying to do such nice things for Harlan, Bill, and Rick) and every thought that comes into his head ultimately ends with Jon's suspicion getting the best of it.
Because of this, Matt doesn't answer for a long time, and when he does, Dallas is sitting next to him, head in his hands, muttering under his breath. It almost looks like he's praying. Matt clears his throat before he says, "Not really." Dallas lets a low whistle out between his lips. He claps his hands on his knees and stands up from the bench. He stands like he's hesitating, like he doesn't know what he's going to do or say, then nods, decisively.
"I'm going to call in a pizza order," he says, then leaves. Matt feels terrible, like he's pulled out his heart.
For the rest of the night, they don't talk about it again.
Eric's watching from the kitchen window when Dallas drops Matt off that Saturday. "You're sure about this?" Dallas asks, peering over his sunglasses at Eric, arm draped across the steering wheel. He looks calm. Matt knows better.
Exhaling from his nose, Matt nods. "Yeah."
"'Cause, I mean, I might be able to pull some strings." He clears his throat but doesn't move. "I know some people." His voice is quiet; Matt wonders if he's being serious or not.
Eric looks ominous; Matt's surprised by the expression on his face. He turns back to Dallas, who hasn't moved an inch. "I'm sure," Matt tells him, hoping he sounds firm enough, hoping the shaking in his hands won't give him away. "I can't keep asking for your help, you know."
Dallas grumbles. Matt ignores him. "Fine, but if you come back lookin' like hamburger meat, I'm calling the cops."
Matt nods, placing his hand on the door handle. The door unlocks quietly. Matt turns his head to see Dallas biting at his fingers again. "I'll be careful, I promise."
With a snort, Dallas looks down at his lap. "That means virtually nothing going up against your father, you know."
Trying not to pay attention to the way his heart thumps against his chest, Matt says, "I'll see you Tuesday, then."
"Definitely," Dallas says with a slow nod. "Call me if you need me." Matt doesn't mention to him that he kind of can't, not when he's on constant surveillance and he's not allowed to use the telephone, and he doesn't tell him goodbye, either. It's too final. He gets that it's not only Jon's clients freak Dallas out, but also Matt's attitude about the whole situation. Unfortunately, Dallas doesn't seem to understand that his freaking out triggers bad anxiety and paranoia in Matt as well.
Matt's not so stupid that he's deluded himself into thinking that this is a normal family situation or anything. He knows how abnormal it all is; how crazed and creepy Jon intentionally comes off as… People - normal, sane people at least - don't do this sort of thing.
He's not even talking about the clients, even if they're the ones that Matt should really be focusing on. It's all such a terrifying prospect, though, the inner-workings of a pedophile's mind… Matt can't focus on that sort of thing. It's easier to deal with his own shortcomings.
Dallas' car doesn't move the entire time it takes Matt to get to the front door, but he at least starts the engine when Matt reaches the porch.
He hardly has the doorknob turned when Eric attacks him, all arms and legs and annoyingly wet lips at his mouth, ears, and neck. Daemon barks loudly from the living room, dulled by the overwhelming sense of Eric all over the place. "I missed you," he whispers in Matt's ear, wrapping his arms around his back tightly. Matt can still hear the low rumbling of Dallas' car engine behind him on the street; the rhythmic clunk that he hasn't fixed yet.
To drive his point home - I'm going to go through with this , he thinks, even if it seems like he's trying to convince himself - Matt kicks the door shut with his foot. Eric's grip tightens as he does it, but he pulls away quickly regardless.
Matt swallows, then says, "You, too," unable to bring himself to utter the actual words to Eric's face. Eric almost looks surprised, though, yet has the decency to try to hide it. Matt isn't sure whether he prefers that or not. "Could we-I need to talk to you. Could we maybe talk in our room?" He tries chuckling to ease the tension. It doesn't work. "I think it'd be easier for me to talk in there."
The confused look Eric sends him almost makes him second guess his decision. Luckily, it doesn't last very long. "Of course. Sure."
Matt tries not to look nervous as he follows Eric to their room. Looking as though he's ready to bolt won't help the situation in any possible way. It's not like he's terribly freaked out or anything, not like he'd expected to be when he'd get back; Eric doesn't seem to be a threat, and if he were, Matt's almost sure that he could take Eric on if he needed to, not that he particularly wants to or anything. There's comfort in that fact. The fact that Eric doesn't seem the type to be schooled in self-defense, he means; one man's loss is another man's gain.
He tries not to appear nervous. When Eric closes and locks the door behind him, upon seeing Matt's face, he asks, "Is everything all right?"
Matt takes a deep breath and pulls Eric to him by his collar into a kiss. It's different than what he's used to with Eric; initiating and responding are two different actions, and until Eric takes over, Matt feels terribly out of his element. Eric certainly has one up on him.
As he's pulling at Matt's jeans, he asks, in between kissing and sucking at Matt's neck, "What-exactly-brought-this on?"
Smiling, albeit a little shakily, Matt forces his mind to come up with something. "Well, you know-sometimes some things sound better after you think about it a while," he says, sighing when Eric's lips return to his neck. Good, he thinks, it worked. Eric's fingers brush over the top of his boxers and his hips buck involuntarily. What-
"Wow, you're not kidding!" Eric sounds… proud, almost. Like he's amazed at Matt's sudden one-eighty from being concerned and worried to being the initiator. He chuckles, then looks up at Matt from beneath his eyelashes. "So, do you think I could blow you now?"
The words are crude, Matt knows, but familiar. He's heard worse, and while never in a question format, it's nothing compared to some of the things Rick or Bill say. He doesn't want Eric to - really doesn't want him to if it's going to be anything like it was the other night - but any possible alternatives sound unlikely (Eric backing off right this second, despite Matt having initiated) or worse (his father deciding to do regarding Matt's noncompliance), so he takes a deep breath, nods, and goes with it.
"History test today," Liam says to him first thing the next morning. After the night he'd had with Eric, Matt feels like his body had been torn apart and stitched back together with dull needles. It's a lot to endure, Matt forgets, and it's been a long time since he's felt the effects this long after. He must be getting old.
"If you don't have anything better than small talk," Matt tells him in a low voice, almost inaudible, "you might as well save it 'cause I don't wanna hear it."
Liam hesitates, then offers him a grin. "Nah. I just needed an in."
Matt closes his locker before turning to him. At least he's not scared. Matt had almost been afraid of that before. Liam doesn't normally get scared or put-off by Matt, but sometimes… "You done acting like you know me?"
The confused look Matt's seen a lot lately settles on Liam's face. "What-Don't I?"
"Say no and butt out and we're good again," Matt hears himself say, almost surprised that he was speaking.
Liam's not a stupid man. He never has been. Matt imagines it comes from weekday afternoons spent in AP and Honors courses. Sure, he acts like it, sometimes. He sounds like he's stupid, and the first semester they were friends, Matt was actually surprised when they got their grades and Liam had straight A's. Now, he proves his intelligence by clapping Matt's shoulder and nodding. "All right. I know jack about you. As long as we're back to normal again."
Matt manages to flash him a smile. "As normal as we can be, right?"
Laughing, Liam swings an arm around Matt's shoulders and asks, "How's Dallas?" like nothing's wrong - and Matt answers like nothing's wrong. He lies his way through details about Dallas, feeling oddly normal. People don't stare at them as they walk down the hallway. When they stop at the gym for third-hour Physical Education, Liam's smiling for real.
To his surprise, so is Matt.
Over the next two weeks, Liam treats him like what Matt would imagine normal friends treat each other like. He invites him over for movie nights and tells him about parties and asks him to study groups, and when Matt tells him he can't make it, Liam complains, but doesn't ever ask why. He's friendly and keeping his distance; just like Matt had wanted him to do.
It's not that he doesn't appreciate Liam's concern, because he does, really. It's just that, sometimes, the guy can go a little overboard and Matt starts panicking. He doesn't want anyone in on this than who absolutely has to be in on this. It's not something Matt's necessarily comfortable with anyway, and telling everyone else would just be a terrible idea, especially considering the fact that, had it not been for Dallas in the first place, he wouldn't even be thinking about leaving.
The next time Matt sees Dallas, his eyes are sunken in, his hair is withered and dry, his eyes are bloodshot, and he can barely grip the steering wheel. It's scary, seeing him like this. It's worse than that time he almost had a breakdown in his car when he picked Matt up from school one of the first afternoons they were together.
"You look worse than I do," Matt tells him as he gets into the passenger seat of Dallas' car, "And I look terrible."
Dallas clears his throat, and when he speaks, his throat sounds rusty, like he hadn't talked in days, or he'd talked too much. "Long days and longer nights," he replies. He doesn't really say anything the entire ride back to his home, and, surprisingly, doesn't even ask Matt how his day went or anything. He burns rubber as he leaves the school parking lot and keeps his eyes on the road the entire drive, biting at his fingernails until his car is safely parked in his driveway.
"You're okay, right?" Matt asks, when Dallas doesn't move from his car. He nods slowly in response, as though out of the conversation entirely. "You're not exactly doing a good job of convincing me."
Unfortunately for Matt, Dallas doesn't respond to him after that. Instead, he gets out of his car and rushes across his front lawn to get to his door. Matt follows as quickly as he can, almost forgetting to lock his door in the process. It's not like Matt had been expecting much, but Dallas doesn't say anything upon opening the door or getting inside, either. He doesn't open his mouth, in any sense of the phrase, until he's just standing in the entryway, without his coat or shoes.
"Something's come up," he says lowly, his voice almost monotone and devoid of emotion. He doesn't move beyond turning his head to look at the ground, but Matt feels as though his own body, which has seemed to undergo panic mode, is making up for it. "I have to go to Los Angeles for a few months."
"Los Angeles?"
Nodding, Dallas takes a seat on the bench. Matt feels himself relax just the tiniest bit seeing the older man move. "Los Angeles." His voice takes on an abnormally apologetic tone as he continues to speak. "There's this part in a movie they want me to play. It's the first live action film I've done since Alex died, and, and…" He sighs. "There's no way for me to say this and not sound like a jackass."
Despite the terror threatening to tremble through him, Matt says, "Don't worry about it," in the most courageous, nonchalant tone he can manage. "Gotta keep the money coming in somehow… Especially since you've spent tens or hundreds of thousands on me alone and the bills here, they, they can't exactly be cheap." In all honesty, Matt hates to think how much money Dallas has given his father, or how much of it has been gambled or drank or prostituted away. The amount already has to be more than he can imagine, more than he'd ever thought he'd be worth.
But then again, it's not exactly Matt all these old men are after, is it?
Dallas interrupts his thoughts with a snort. "Please. I've got the money." He rubs at his face with both hands and sighs. "I've even got the money to take you with, but-it's just-" He looks up at Matt. "Jon's got it in his head that I'll be too busy filming to actually watch over you or even utilize you for any… favors, and you'll, I don't know, get out of my fucking trailer and run away or something." His voice is quiet; Matt has to strain to hear him.
Despite his initial reaction, Matt can't really act surprise. Jon's kept Matt on a short leash for years now, and no amount of Matt's obvious loyalty to his father has changed that. He still only barely ever lets him out, and the only reason he's still letting Matt go to school is because he's required to go by law. "How long?" Matt finally asks, when the silence starts to settle in and ache in his ears.
Dallas hesitates before he answers. "Nothing's set in stone, you have to remember that. It's, the quickness of some movies are determined by how fast the actors work through the scenes. Basically, we have the-"
"Dallas," Matt hears himself say, "How long?"
Sighing, Dallas looks back at the floor and hesitates, stalls. He takes a few deep breaths. "It could be as little as one month and as many as nine," he says softly, apologetic again. "I'm sorry."
Nine months without Dallas' safety net, without his time to take away from the others. Before meeting Dallas, Matt would have laughed at the idea of a sanctuary, some private place to gather his thoughts and wits. Now, he's going a little crazy just thinking of going without it.
"Nine months," he says, avoiding Dallas' eyes. "That doesn't sound so bad." He scratches at his forehead. Not bad, he thinks. Yeah, right. I'll be freaked before the first week's out.
"I'm really sorry, Matt,"
"Look," Matt says, hoping the venom stays out of his voice. "Don't worry about it."
For the rest of the night, Dallas keeps sending him guilty glances, like he's ready to call off his appearance for filming despite Matt's words - had he not been reassuring or confident enough to get through to Dallas? - but when Dallas' Volvo is parked across the street from Jon's house, Dallas resting his head against the steering wheel like he's got a headache, Matt knows it's for real.
"When do you leave?" Matt hears himself ask as he grasps the door handle. This feels far too final for him, despite the fact that it's not supposed to be.
"A few weeks. Jon's already got plans for all your free time," he says through clenched teeth. His knuckles are white against the steering wheel.
"What kind of plans?"
Dallas slams his fist into the steering wheel, the horn surprising both of them. After taking a few breaths to cool himself down, he says, "I'm-he didn't tell me about any of the plans. He kept giving me some bullshit about it being confidential when not negotiating times." He slams his fist into his wheel again. "I'm so fucking sick of Jon and his sick fucking games."
Matt stays silent. Nine months. Nine whole months with Eric and Jon and Bill and Harlan and Rick without any time to even breathe unless he's at school, and even then, Liam could turn another one eighty and he could be breathing down Matt's neck as well. Matt has to tell himself that things won't change while Dallas is gone; it's the only way to calm his heartbeat, and the only way he knows of to keep his sanity.
"Are you sure you're going to be okay?"
Still uncertain, Matt manages to nod. "I'll be fine," he says with faux-nonchalance. "Eric's… Sort of cooled down a little, if I'm lucky, maybe it'll stay that way." Truthfully, it probably won't. Eric's young, he'll probably get his libido back soon and he'll eventually want to get it on with Matt. Someday, it will stop being as 'happily ever after' as it is right now.
That thought almost depresses Matt as much as Dallas leaving does, but then he realizes that Dallas leaving is part of the same thing, and just finds himself back at the same place he was moments ago.
Dallas doesn't seem to believe his excuse, but Matt doesn't really care, not right now. It's risky - really, really risky - to leave him, but - what's the choice, really? Dallas has to do what he has to do, whether that includes Matt or not, and that definitely includes Matt's health and safety.
They don't talk about the issue again until the next time Dallas brings him home. "I leave in two weeks," Dallas tells him when he's parked - the exact same spot they were before. It's as though he's just extended the conversation. "I have a flight for the Monday after the weekend after next."
Matt's mouth makes the word on its own. "Okay."
And that's that.