Yin and Yang [A Superhero AU] - Book Three

Chapter Forty - Matthew

Matthew stares at his computer monitor, unable to process what he just watched. It can't be true. It can't be. She can't be gone. She's Stephanie, the strongest girl he's ever met. The love of his life. His Stephanie.

"Matthew, what do we do!? Matthew?!"

He can't respond. Cry is screaming and he can't force a word out of his throat. He watches the fight unfold, numb from his head to his toes. The screen makes it feel like a movie, not real life. Maybe it is a movie! Maybe she's not gone!

Anti takes control of Jack's body, sending a shudder down Matthew's spine. This never ends well. Whenever Anti comes out, people die. Good people.

The light on his monitor that notifies him when the door to the institute opens blinks red and Matthew pulls himself to his feet. He tells himself that he's going to walk, but before he knows it he's running. Panic and adrenaline and disbelief fuel his flight, and in moments he's at the door. Cry stands in the entrance, cradling Stephanie in his arms, and that's when Matthew loses it. He collapses to his knees, the word "no" a mere whisper on his lips.

"I-I'm so s-sorry, Matthew," Cry chokes.

He kneels down and lays Stephanie in Matthew's arms before backing off. Matthew cradles her close to his chest, hating how cold she feels against his skin.

"Stephanie, please don't be gone," he pleads, his voice too tight and high-pitched to be normal. "Steph, please. We were going to get married. Come on."

She doesn't move, her beautiful brown eyes closed. Matthew presses a kiss to her forehead and tucks her hair behind her ear, gazing at her like any minute, she should wake up. The stillness scares him more than anything. Stephanie is never still like this.

"Matthew..." Cry whispers, tears wetting the visible parts of his cheeks and jaw. "I... I have to go get Jack..."

"Go," Matthew replies just as softly.

Cry nods and exits the building, leaving Matthew on the floor with Stephanie in his arms. Her chest doesn't rise and fall with every breath. Her cheeks aren't warm and pink and filled with living, flowing blood. Her heartbeat and her pulse are still. Why?

She's dead. Just like all the others.

Matthew shakes his head and holds her closer, pressing a kiss to her cold lips. She doesn't reciprocate, leading him to press his forehead to hers. When he lifts his head again, he grips her tighter.

"Steph, you can wake up now. It's not funny. I don't like this game."

No response.

"Stephanie."

A cold, lifeless girl in the arms of a boy that grows more and more frantic.

"Stephanie!"

He's not ready for it, but the truth comes crashing down anyway. Stephanie is dead and she's never coming back. Her spine, severed at the neck, mixed with severe blunt force trauma, can attest to that.

The first tears start to fall and Matthew tries but fails to choke them back. He sobs until he can't breathe, holding her against his chest like he can protect her from the world.

"Stephanie, Stephanie, please, I don't want to be alone I'm scared please don't leave me here alone," he begs through his sobs.

When Cry comes back in with Jack in his arms, Matthew is still sitting on the floor with Stephanie in his lap. Her dual handguns sit on the floor next to him, completely ignored as he runs his fingers through her hair. His gaze remains trained on her face, eyes red-rimmed.

"I'm going to put Jack in his room, and when I come back we'll figure this out," Cry says. Matthew doesn't respond, his gaze only straying from Stephanie for a moment before returning to her lifeless face.  Silently, Cry carries Jack from the room. 

"Steph, do you remember that time in middle school when we had a Valentine's Day dance, and even though we already loved each other I was so afraid to ask you to go with me? That dance was one of my fondest memories that year," Matthew says, his voice quiet and choked with emotion. "School was always so hellish, but we had our little group of misfits, and that made it okay. Even in adulthood we didn't have it easy, but I didn't mind stitching up your wounds if you stitched up mine." His voice breaks and fresh tears fill his eyes, the next sentence barely leaving his lips. "Steph, who's going to stitch me back together now?"

Cry reenters the room and kneels beside Matthew, his hand travelling automatically to his shoulder. "Matthew, come on. We have to give her a proper burial."

The villain hesitates, tracing his thumb down her cheek. "I'm not ready to say goodbye. I'm never going to be ready to say goodbye..."

"I know."

Cry helps Matthew stand and the two of them head slowly to the villain graveyard. Her grave isn't proper whatsoever, but it's the best they can do with just the two of them and a pair of shovels. Matthew takes her to their room, and when he returns she's wearing a knee-length dress with flowers running from the skirt up. A white sheet hangs over his arm, and Cry doesn't need to ask any questions.

Without a word, Matthew steps into the grave and lays her down on the cool earth. He presses a gentle kiss to her cold lips and pulls the sheet from under his arm, laying it out on top of her with a flutter. From behind him, Matthew hears Cry sniffle and then choke back a sob, golden light emanating from his skin and making Stephanie's grave glow.

"Matthew," he chokes out.

Matthew steps out of her grave and moves to Cry's side, holding it back for a moment longer before breaking down. He sinks to his knees and wails, his fists pressed to the ground as tears water the Earth. Cry lowers himself to the ground beside him and places a hand on his back, his sobs making him glow.

"I th-thought burying D-Dan's a-ashes was bad, b-but this i-i-is worse," Matthew stammers through shaky inhales. "It h-hurts so b-b-bad..."

Cry says nothing, sitting with Matthew until he's able to stand. Together, they bury Stephanie and head back to their own rooms, where they will sit and feel their grief with every ounce of their beings. Matthew walks down the hallway towards his room, and as he passes the front doors he notices Stephanie's twin handguns sitting on the tile floor.

He pauses, contemplating them for a moment, before gingerly picking them and tucking them into his belt.