Round 1 Day 3 - Afternoon

Matt’s feet hit the floor of the throne room, followed soon after by his knees, then his hands, then the contents of his stomach. A searing pressure burst from his skull, down his spine, and spread through his whole body like a jet of underground magma trying to become a volcano. His fingers contorted into claws, nails scratching against the ground, and he retched again. The second time, only a dribble of red spilled out of his lips and nose, to be lost against the matching shade of the carpet.

“Matt?!”

Sarah’s scream was muffled by the hot liquid that was trickling from his ears. Her soft hand coming to rest on his back felt like sandpaper on his skin, but she probably didn’t notice him flinching as he was already spasming and clutching at the sides of his head anyway.

“Oh you stupid, idiotic, clever boy,” Scarlet chimed in from somewhere close by, her voice wobbling just a little as she angrily chastised him. “You just couldn’t let your curiosity lie, could you? Was it worth it, to see something you weren’t supposed to?”

Matt just whimpered, and oozed a little more blood from his orifices. He didn’t think the pain could possibly get any worse, but then Sarah sobbed and it did.

“What’s wrong with him?” she demanded in a panicked yell, “Can’t you help him?”

“Help. Right. Yes.” The Host deftly ignored the first question. “I’ll be right back.”

Footsteps retreated at the exact pace of someone trying not to seem like they were in a rush. Tears slipped from Matt’s screwed up eyes. Or maybe it wasn’t tears.

“Matt?” Sarah said more gently, “Are you alright?”

He grunted. His teeth throbbed.

“Right. Stupid question. Sorry. Um. What happened?”

He wanted to answer, he really did, but he didn’t know. Not exactly. Trying to think about it too hard was like trying to slowly insert his brain into the heart of a bonfire, but some impossibly curious part of him couldn’t stop from trying to find out what might be left behind once it had all burned away. He remembered words. He remembered people watching him, reading him. People and... a sea slug? The Audience? It didn’t make any sense. His head spun, and every rotation rasped his raw synapses across ground glass.

“...Matt?” Sarah whispered with tears in her voice, “Please talk to me. You're scaring me.”

He tried. It didn't work. His jaw was clenched firmly shut, no matter how much he focused on opening it. His breaths were too short and sharp to make any sound more than a brief yelp. They'd been talking about him, and Sarah, and Poppy, and even some of the other Masters he'd met. The steps returned.

“Alright then, Curious George,” Scarlet said from somewhere outside his skull, “I'm going to need you to look at me.”

He tried. It didn't work. His muscles were locked up, and wouldn't move anywhere. His head was far too heavy to lift, weighed down by impossible knowledge. His eyes were welded shut. Some of them had spoken to him directly.

“Dammit. Help me lift him.” Scarlet ordered.

Matt's wife and his Host grabbed a shoulder each and heaved, fighting against his seized-up joints to haul him upright. There has been more out there. More words, like the story he had read about Andy Cooper, and many others besides. So many words. So many stories. Too many to fit.

Fingers clawed at his face, trying to pry his eyes open but slipping in the blood. Nails like hot pokers pressed into his cheekbones. There had been other words. Closer words. His own story. Him.

“Come on!” Someone slapped him, Scarlet probably, but it didn't hurt any more than existing, “Open your eyes, Matty!”

“Matt, please!” Sarah begged as if she was the one in pain, “Please look at us!”

He tried. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, but his gummy, bloody eyes slowly cracked apart. Then Scarlet threw a handful of sand into them.

Sarah screamed as Matt flinched back, then went limp and collapsed. She dove after him, shook him to no reaction whatsoever, then turned on the woman kneeling beside her. She grabbed Scarlet by the shoulders and shook her instead, harder than she had with her husband. Harder, and angrier.

“What did you do to him?” she demanded, practically spitting with rage.

Scarlet let herself be shaken for a moment, then clamped a small hand onto Sarah's wrist. Her slim fingers held a surprising strength.

“I put him to sleep,” she said flatly, her yellow eyes boring into Sarah's brown, “Literally, before you get the wrong idea and do something I need to eliminate you for, psycho wife.” Sarah suddenly realised what she was doing and let go of Scarlet like she'd been scalded. The Host just adjusted her red leather jacket before continuing. “Fuck knows why you humans decided sand in the eyes was symbolic of sleep, but he'll snooze for an hour or so and then when he comes around all that nasty, dangerous knowledge will feel like a dream. He'll be fine.”

“Okay,” Sarah whispered shakily, making a futile effort to dry her eyes with her sleeve, “Thank you. Is it going to fix everything else as well?”

The two women looked down at Matt's slumbering form. He slept peacefully, breathing slow and deep, but the trails of drying blood from his eyes, ears, nose and mouth stood out starkly against his unhealthily pale skin.

“Not any quicker than normal,” the Host shrugged, “It's not life threatening anymore though. He'll just be sore as hell for the next few days. Maybe it will make him think twice the next time he gets too curious for his own good.”

“Can you fix it anyway?”

Scarlet chuckled and shook her head. “My brand of healing magic hurts more than it's worth for you mortals,” she said, then frowned thoughtfully, “Though he might not feel it while he's sleeping like this.”

“If you can do it without hurting him, then do it,” Sarah insisted, grabbing a hold of one of Matt's limp hands and squeezing. “I don't want to just leave him like this. Besides...” she swallowed nervously, “He has a date soon. He'll want to be at his best.”

Scarlet fixed her with a strange look, and a grin slowly spread across the redhead’s face.

“I knew you were the right choice for this season,” she smirked with self-satisfaction, then before Sarah could say anything further Scarlet had lunged forward, grabbed Matt's head, and kissed him hard on the lips.

Sarah's jaw dropped. Her grip on Matt's hand tightened until her knuckles went white. Scarlet was kissing her unconscious husband, right in front of her, as if she had every right to do it.

“What are you...?” she gasped with incredulous anger when she finally regained control of her vocal chords, but couldn't manage to finish the sentence.

Scarlet released Matt's head and sat back upright, making a wet popping noise as their lips parted. “What were you saying?” she asked, wiping the blood from her mouth with the back of her hand.

“What did you do that for?” Sarah tried again, grinding the question through her teeth this time.

“To heal him, like you asked,” the Host nodded down at Matt.

The trails of blood were gently smouldering, releasing a thin smoke that faded to nothing as it rose while the stains burned away. Colour returned to his cheeks. Sarah swallowed down her anger again. Most of it, at least.

“You could have warned me it needed that,” she said, low and thin, still clutching his hand. His skin was warming up a little beneath her fingers as the fiery healing magic worked its way through his body.

“I could have,” Scarlet smirked, “And yet, I didn’t. It seemed more fun that way.”

“You...” Sarah expected the rage to come bubbling back up, but found sadness instead. Sadness, and something else. “You too? Are the other seven not enough?”

The Host shook her head, still smirking. “It's never really been a question of Matty getting enough, has it? But no, not me too.” The smile faded, and she gazed off into the distance with a misty expression. “I just lost the greatest relationship I never had, and I'm not interested in a rebound.” She took a breath that seemed to go deeper than her lungs. The smirk returned to her lips, though it didn’t reach the rest of her face. “No, I didn’t warn you because I thought your reaction to me giving him the kiss of life might be entertaining.”

The rage Sarah had been expecting came back quite suddenly, though she managed to keep it contained behind her tightly clenched teeth. Only a small amount of it leaked out through her eyes, and the oddly pensive Scarlet seemed entirely immune to the burning glare.

“Come on then,” she prompted, climbing to her feet again and making a show of dusting off her knees while ignoring the fury directed at her, “If you help me carry him to the suite then I'll let you stay until he wakes up.”

Matt woke quickly, but not with a jolt. One moment he was asleep, then his eyelids flickered open and he found himself wide awake on the sofa of the master suite, with his head in Sarah's lap and her cool fingers running gently through his hair. The vast bookcases towered over her, the oppressive weight of their words seeming to bend the room overhead.

“Hi,” she said with a worried smile, “Are you okay?”

“I'm alright,” he replied, bemused. He felt refreshed, better rested than he had in days, but there was a slight sense of rawness to his skin - like a mild case of sunburn. Sounds seemed louder too, and lights were brighter, but his skin and his senses were all quickly returning to normal with every passing second. It was probably nothing to worry about. “Sorry, I didn't realise I'd drifted off. Been a weird couple of days. Gave me some strange dreams...”

“Um,” Sarah suppressed a flinch and tried her best not to panic as she redirected the conversation. Scarlet hadn’t said what might happen if he realised that it wasn’t a dream. “Yeah. It was pretty weird. I think I was there less than half an hour before a naked girl with magic hair was making friends with me.”

“Emily, right?” Matt considered sitting up, but decided he quite liked his position in Sarah's lap, “I saw you talking to her a few times at the evening party, and again at the reception.”

“Yeah. Emily.” Sarah blushed a little and turned her gaze away, but kept stroking his hair. “She was very nice.”

“She's lovely, from what I know about her. How did your day go from there, while we were separated? I meant to ask last night, but you seemed a bit overwhelmed.”

“I was,” she nodded, “Um. Let me think. We spent most of the morning at the spa. After lunch we did a baking contest but got interrupted by someone exploding out of a box. I don’t really know what was going on there. There was a group painting thing, rotating around canvasses and adding a bit each time. I wasn’t very good at it, and someone kept just putting a handprint on all of them, but it kind of... worked? Almost?

“Everyone wrote some wishes and promises on ribbons and tied them to a tree. That was nice. I didn’t really know any of the other people there but there were some funny messages, and some sad ones, and one kind of angry one from a woman who reminded me a bit of Grace.

“Um. What else? Uh... We potted some plants. There was a mystery game you would have loved. Some sort of costume competition where me and that very strange maid, that Mildred, painted dots on each other. She made it sound like some kind of incomplete eldritch ritual, but I don’t know. It was definitely more than just the dots. Then we went swimming, and someone had made some magic potions that turned us into mermaids and tasted like...” her rambling trailed off as she realised what she had been about to say, and she blushed fiercely.

“What did it taste like?” Matt asked curiously, lifting his head.

Sarah closed her eyes and tried to ignore how her cheeks felt like they were burning. “Like me. Like my... pussy. My new one. I mean, mine did. Other people's potions would have tasted different.”

“They gave each of you potions that tasted like your own pussy?” his eyebrows shot up, unseen by Sarah.

“No. They tasted like... like the last woman you went down on.”

“And yours tasted like...?”

Sarah nodded too quickly.

“Because I made you...?”

She nodded again.

“That counted?” he laughed in disbelief.

“Apparently,” she squeaked, then finally released his hair to bury her face in her hands, “Can we please talk about something else?”

“Right. Sorry.” Matt cleared his throat and wrestled away a smile. “Anyone else you made friends with?”

“A few, I think. There was Laura,” Sarah said, slowly lowering her hands from her bright red face, “The bride, the one who came over while we were at the bonfire. I was in a team with her for the baking contest and we talked about... Well, we had some things in common.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” he no longer had to wrestle down the smile, as he remembered the thing that Laura and Sarah definitely didn't have in common. “I hope she's okay.”

“Why wouldn't she be?” Sarah frowned, “Because of whatever that was at the end, before we came back?”

“It's a long story,” he sat up and eyed the book beside the sofa, “A very long story. One that's coming to an end soon. I guess I'll just need to read on if I want to find out how they manage.” He gave a small smile. “Might give me more of an idea of what you got up to at the bachelorette party too.”

“At the party?” the blush drained from Sarah's cheeks, and she stared at the book like it was a coiled snake. “Do you have to read it?”

“I guess I don't have to,” he looked at her with some concern as he noticed the sudden change in her mood, “I thought you'd want to find out what happens to your new friends though. I know I do.”

“I do,” she wrung her hands nervously in her vacated lap, “I just didn't realise you'd be able to read everything.”

Everything. Everything she'd said to Laura, about her feelings of inadequacy. Even if Matt skipped that bit, did Laura know it was meant to be a secret? What if she talked to someone about it? Would it appear on the page if she even simply thought about the conversation? If he read that, if he found out, then he'd blame himself again. He'd blame himself, he'd try to make things better, and then it would all get so much worse.

Matt was still looking at Sarah with those wonderful, dangerous, analytical eyes of his. He was working it out. She couldn't stop him.

“You did something you don't want me to know about,” he said with some finality. It wasn't a guess. Her eyes went wide, her heart leapt into her throat.

“I didn't cheat on you!” she scrambled desperately to explain, “I just... I didn't... I wouldn't!”

“Sarah,” Matt said calmly.

“I would never...”

“Sarah.”

“I love you!”

“I know, Sarah,” Matt said with a faint smile on his face as he took her by the hand, “I love you too. I trust you, and honestly you'd have my permission anyway.”

“I... what?” Her train of thought screeched to a halt just as it was about to derail entirely.

“It's okay if there's something you don't want me to see,” he explained patiently, “You didn't realise I'd be potentially peering over your shoulder all day, fair enough. You should be allowed privacy, as much as this show will let you have at least, and I won't pry. I'll just have to find out what happens some other way. Maybe I can ask Scarlet if she can censor it, or something.”

He licked his lips nervously, then steeled himself. This was his first opportunity to start working on all the advice he'd been given from people with much more experience than him. He wanted to get this right.

“But if you do ever want to do anything with someone else, then you absolutely can. It only seems fair, given my situation.” He paused, thought about it some more, then clarified. “I'd prefer if you kept it among the people here since we're all stuck together anyway, but we can talk through any exceptions. And I'd like you to tell me about it. Not a play-by-play description or anything like that, just that it happened. But yeah. Go for it.”

“I...” Sarah croaked out past the lump in her throat, swallowed, then set her jaw. “I don't want anyone but you.”

“It's alright if that changes though,” he insisted, “I know you love me. I won't think any less of you.”

Her mouth felt dry as dust. Her eyes stung. “Do you want me to find someone else?” she whispered.

“Kind of,” he said with a chuckle and a shrug, “As well as me, not instead of me. Like I said, it only seems fair, given the situation we're in. Or did you really think I was wanting you to move on from our relationship after all these years?”

He said it as a joke and immediately regretted it, then regretted it more when Sarah didn't answer. The silence nearly broke Matt's heart.

“Sarah, that’s not-” he began, his eyes going wide with sudden fear.

The door burst open.

“Alright, you've had your naptime,” Scarlet declared, striding in their direction and gesturing at Matt with her quill, “You've got a date to get ready for, and you're already late.”

He glared at her. Sarah looked down in continued silence. Scarlet put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot impatiently.

“Come on,” she prompted, tilting her head towards the bedroom, “Go get changed. Light clothes, nothing too formal.”

Matt looked at Sarah. She didn't look at him.

“I love you,” he said to her quietly, “You know that wasn’t what I meant, right?”

“I love you too,” she said to her lap, even quieter, “And I know.”

Scarlet cleared her throat. Matt got to his feet, shot her a glare that would have incinerated anyone less fireproof, then traipsed off to the bedroom. When he looked back over his shoulder, a dejected Sarah was being ushered out in the opposite direction.

It would have been frustrating if it hadn't been sad. He'd only been trying to be fair. Following some of the advice he'd been given at the wedding, that he didn't have to be the centre of everything. But none of the people giving him that advice had been married when they had a harem thrust upon them. None of them had known Sarah's insecurities. He wouldn't give up on her though. He'd keep showing her how much she meant to him. Maybe someday she'd believe it.

But in the short term, he had a date to prepare for. Eleanor Wells. He knew the least about her of any of them, aside from Poppy. Only that she was young, rich, and apparently a goth. What would she want him to be? Not young like her, she knew he was older and to try and pretend otherwise would be insulting. He should be mature, but not infantilise her. Take her opinions seriously, but not let her walk all over him and risk losing any respect for him she might have. Trying to banter with her like he did with Max would end in disaster, so he’d have to be calm. Calm and safe, as they got to know each other and figured out what their relationship would look like.

He rifled through his wardrobe, picking out dark colours and designer brands. A deep red silk shirt and black slacks, both a looser, lighter fit to follow Scarlet's instructions. Slip-on shoes rather than boots or oxfords. It would have counted as formal for most people, but he felt practically naked without a jacket on.

Matt fastened his belt as he made his way to the bathroom. The dark floral scent would probably be best, he decided, and he picked out the bottle by shape and colour then sprayed an optimum amount onto his neck and wrists. Placing the cologne back amongst the rest, he faced the mirror to finish getting ready.

For the duration of a blink, Matt saw pain and blood. A face contorted in agony, red streaming from every orifice of his reflection's head. Then it was gone. He blinked again, not sure what he'd seen, or if he'd even seen it at all, but the only thing that looked back at him now was his own confused expression. He shook himself, covered the confusion with a confident grin, straightened his spine and rolled his shoulders up and back. Now he was ready.

There had been no plan for where to meet, or what they would be doing, but he figured he would start with Eleanor's room, then try the common room where he'd seen her reading while he was with Max. If she wasn't in either of those places then he could always try and call or text her, or ask Scarlet. But when he opened the door he nearly leapt back in surprise at seeing the black-haired pale-skinned teenager leaning against the wall outside the suite, scrolling mindlessly on her phone.

Eleanor was dressed more casually than he'd seen her before, in black jeans and a low cut black top, but she covered up her flustered shock at his sudden appearance with a scowl that was every bit as imperious as always. Her lips were painted a purple so rich it had an offshore bank account.

“I don't appreciate being kept waiting,” she huffed, hurriedly stuffing the phone into her pocket and crossing her arms.

“Sorry about that, but I wasn't aware we were on a schedule,” Matt replied, his dry tone softened by a smile. His eyes caught on the familiar shade of her lipstick. It had been two days ago, from his perspective, but he clearly remembered the last time he'd seen it. That was an interesting coincidence.

“Yeah, well, we are,” the rich girl floundered for a moment, then stuck her nose up and twisted on the spot to begin descending the spiral stairs. “Now come along. We're already late.”

“Late for what?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, stepping out and closing the door behind him.

Eleanor paused and looked back over her shoulder. “We're going to the spa,” she said haughtily, her upper lip curling back to reveal a hint of fang.