In Case of Rejection

CHAPTER TWENTY

Matthew shot out of his seat without another thought and threw himself towards the door. He switched open the lock, rushing out into the living room again, uncaring that he was betraying his location. He had bigger things in mind than his secrecy.

"Michael!" Jean shouted, her voice raw with fear. Matthew saw his feet first, and the way his whole body was flattened into the floor. She was kneeling on the ground beside the oven, her hands cradled around Michael's shoulders, like she was trying to pick him up again. His body twitched, slowly reanimating, as Matthew stepped towards them.

"What happened?" Matthew asked urgently, hovering above his parents. Jean turned back to him with teary eyes.

"He just collapsed, I-I don't know what happened," she stuttered. Behind her head, Michael was sitting up again, leaning up against the oven door for stability. Jean turned when she felt the motion, leaning back onto her heels. Michael's face flushed with recognition with his newfound alertness. But something was off about him.

"Sorry, I just," he started, swallowing hard. "I got a little dizzy."

You're a robot, you don't get dizzy, Matthew wanted to say. His mind flitted to the red slashes through the diagrams, and he felt an awful churning in his stomach that pushed the thought away.

"It's okay," Jean whispered, and Michael started to stand. Slowly, but surely, shifting his weight around until he stood tall, towering above the both of them again.

"You got taller," Jean laughed, and Matthew wanted to roll his eyes at her. He understood that it was probably nice to see him, but he couldn't get over the little blue lights burning on his forehead. He couldn't see how easy it was for her to forget. Then again, he knew she didn't.

"A whole inch," Michael smiled, and the pair of them went on laughing. Matthew smiled too, but he couldn't force that laugh.

The conversation over dinner was the strangest Matthew had ever witnessed. Both of his parents were acting like nothing had changed. Like he wasn't an entirely different person, like there was nothing wrong with the fact that he wasn't breathing or his heart wasn't beating. It was absurd, and Matthew was trying not to let it get to him. For his mom's sake.

"How has Fran been?" Michael asked, and Matthew broke out of his thoughts and reentered the living room.

"What?" He asked, without even meaning to. His parents looked at him, Jean with an especially sharp look. Michael smiled a little at the inquiry.
"I was asking about Fran," he repeated.

"I haven't seen her," Jean said through a bite of her food, cutting Matthew off from saying anything else. He forked around his plate, refusing to make much eye contact, like the brooding teenager he was. That was all he had, really. His last bit of dignity, and he was ready to fight for it. He was fuming with frustration, uncomprehending of the gratitude he was feeling just the hour before.

"I thought I saw her earlier," Michael said. Matthew had so many questions, but he was unsure of which to address first. The curfew alarm stopped ringing suddenly, and Matthew sat up a little straighter, now at ease. Funnily enough, he hadn't even noticed it had started.

"So, how do you feel?" Jean asked. She looked Michael up and down, her eyes wandering around his arms, his face. Matthew watched him too.

"I feel great. I feel better than ever," Michael said. Matthew couldn't get used to the sound of his voice. Like it was from a speaker -- it had that same floaty timbre as a Bot's voice, and everytime Matthew heard it, it made his ears itch. Like it held a different frequency.