It's Definitely Not All Mary Poppins

In Memoriam (3)

This only infuriated Matthew to no end. "Neither does he, but you both have to live with it, still."

"Please stop the theatrics, Mr. Robinson," Yang sighed. "Elliot copes, I cope. We've survived this long just fine."

"Your 'coping' is avoidance, and it's unhealthy."

"I have other things on my plate."

"So you don't care that your only nephew sets up a shrine to his dead parents – your sibling – probably every single year, and doesn't tell you about it?"

"My role in his life is to provide, and the same goes for Lilliana." Mr. Yang's hard brown eyes stayed away, fixed on a distant spot by his desk. He scoffed. "Do you honestly think I know that I don't know what Elliot thinks of me? That I hate him, that I could care less about him? He is not mine; he is my sister's, and every moment I look at him I see her and it is so insufferable – " Mr. Yang blinked, wiping the surprise tears gathering his eyes. He swallowed, clearing his throat. "Excuse me, but I have work that needs completing."

Matthew, glaring, raised his middle finger at him. "You owe me a goddamned story, you fucking asshole. I might be fucking furloughed but I'm not putting up with this avoidance bullshit anymore," he spat, turning on his heels and leaving the office, slamming the door as hard as possible.

Elliot remained in place, his fingers being wrung in his lap. He didn't meet Matthew's eyes, his stare down, distant. Something in his posture was stiff.

The moment Matthew stepped into the empty bedroom was the moment the office door cracked open. Ignoring it, he kneeled beside Eli and placed a hand on his back, slipping the matches into his pocket. "Do you need me to do anything?"

He shook his head. "I miss them, Matt."

"I know."

"I miss them so much." His voice broke, and Elliot wiped his eyes. "But I don't wanna think about it because it's so sad." He pressed his hands one to his eyes, sniffing.

God, how Matthew wished that bastard Yang was here.

"I miss Mom's pancakes. I miss Dad's stupid wood train sets. I miss us going to the Natural History Museum and letting me walk around all the ancient world exhibits, or taking pictures of me wrecking the floodplains simulator by pretending I was a god. I miss our trips to Lake Yerkes, and we'd walk around the lake then take a cab back to the hotel because I was so tired." He gulped, and leaned into Matthew's shoulders. "I miss home, Matt."

Matthew held him. His eyes grew misty.

"We almost got a dog, Matt." He laughed. "A big black dog. I was gonna name it Kanaloa, and I was gonna walk it everyday and we were gonna be best friends. And, and Mom was gonna get a tabby cat and name it Kāne and they were gonna love each other." Eli sniffed.

Tipping his head against Eli's head, Matthew ran his thumb over the boy's shoulder.

"...I miss them, Matt."

"I know."

Elliot's steadying breaths were all that they heard for what felt like forever before he sighed. "This's the first time someone's been here with me in a while."

"Oh?" Matthew picked his head up. "Lilly didn't join you on this?"

"She did...in the beginning. But Uncle Jun started stopping me, putting this up, and Lilly couldn't stay up after a while, and she kinda...dropped out of it." He shrugged, turning away. "She draws me a picture in the morning, to say 'sorry', and then I enchant it."

"Very you," Matthew hummed, smirking. He pressed his hand on top of Eli's head. "I'm sorry...still."

His body fell limp as he sighed. "It's, just, nice...to have someone." Eli pulled back, meeting Matt's eyes. "Will you do it next year with me?"

"Yeah," he whispered, tugging Eli back into a hug. He side-eyed the door back into the loggia, watching the shadows. Frowning, he said, a little louder, "Sorry you've been all alone in this."

"It's okay." Eli pushed away, leaning back on his hands. "I know we all remember the dead differently. Uncle Jun probably doesn't want to think about them because of me."

God, Matthew hoped Yang's ears were burning.

"Still..." Elliot coughed, wiping his eyes. "Thanks...for being here."

Matthew nodded, standing. "Do you leave them on all night?"

"Mm." Eli stood, going for the light switch and turning it off. "For as long as they'll burn."

Matthew tucked him in, pressing his hand against his forehead gently. Their exchanged words were quiet, gentle, the upstairs hall left on and the bedroom door cracked open. Elliot settled, and Matthew returned downstairs.

Yang stood in front of the memorial, the lights off but bathed in whatever light the moon brought in. He appeared to be studying it, hands folded behind his back. His clothes were gently creased, the picture of immaculate. After a moment, he leaned down and pinched the candles out. He left the incense stick burning.

"Hm."

The older man met Matthew's stare, though it was only for a moment before his gaze drifted back to the tiny shrine.

Grimacing, Matthew slipped the matches out of his pocket and struck a match, relighting the candles quickly.

"I don't like open flames in my house, Mr. Robinson." He leaned down again to snuff out the flames again.

Matthew grabbed his wrist, thumb pressing into the older man's wrist. "This isn't your memorial."

"This is my house."

"No wonder it isn't a home."

Mr. Yang met Matthew's eyes again. He did not move.

Tossing the matches box on the ground, hard, Matthew whispered, "You owe me a goddamned story. We said we'd be honest, and I think it's long overdue."