Chill
Title: Chill
Fandom: Gargoyles
Characters: Matt Bluestone
Prompt: 16. Cold
Word Count: 203
Rating: PG
Summary: He didn't mean to listen.
Author's Notes: Prequel to 'Wolf at the Door'
The only reason Matt was downstairs was because it was cold, and the linen closet was down on the first floor. He hadn’t intended to listen at the living room door, but it was right there, and people were talking.
“I’m sorry, Grace,” Dad’s boss said. “We did everything we could.”
“But it wasn’t enough,” his mother hissed back. “What am I supposed to do now? What am I supposed to tell people? They will want to know why there isn’t a body!”
“We’ll think of something. Don’t worry.”
Matt backed away from the door and quietly crept back to his bed, digesting the information he had gained and trying to put it together. He was still mulling it over when his mother came into his room. He quickly feigned sleep, waiting.
“Matty?”
Matt cracked an eye open. His ever-so-proper mother never called him Matty anymore. The first thing he noted was that her make-up was smudged, and her eyes were red. But this was impossible. His mother didn’t do things as weak as cry. She pulled him into a tight hug, burying her face in his hair. “There’s been an accident,” she whispered. “Your father…”
Suddenly, Matt’s world seemed very cold indeed.
Fandom: Gargoyles
Characters: Matt Bluestone
Prompt: 16. Cold
Word Count: 203
Rating: PG
Summary: He didn't mean to listen.
Author's Notes: Prequel to 'Wolf at the Door'
The only reason Matt was downstairs was because it was cold, and the linen closet was down on the first floor. He hadn’t intended to listen at the living room door, but it was right there, and people were talking.
“I’m sorry, Grace,” Dad’s boss said. “We did everything we could.”
“But it wasn’t enough,” his mother hissed back. “What am I supposed to do now? What am I supposed to tell people? They will want to know why there isn’t a body!”
“We’ll think of something. Don’t worry.”
Matt backed away from the door and quietly crept back to his bed, digesting the information he had gained and trying to put it together. He was still mulling it over when his mother came into his room. He quickly feigned sleep, waiting.
“Matty?”
Matt cracked an eye open. His ever-so-proper mother never called him Matty anymore. The first thing he noted was that her make-up was smudged, and her eyes were red. But this was impossible. His mother didn’t do things as weak as cry. She pulled him into a tight hug, burying her face in his hair. “There’s been an accident,” she whispered. “Your father…”
Suddenly, Matt’s world seemed very cold indeed.