Author Note: Thank you for the truly lovely feedback I have had on this story. It has definitely reignited by enjoyment of writing so thank you!
This is the darkest part of the story and has some themes that may not be for everyone. I dont want to give spoilers, but please read my authors note at the end of the story for more info.
Matched Part 3 - Match Point
Chapter 1 - Secrets Are Revealed
*Damien*
Damien drummed his fingers on his desk absent mindedly. He had piles of paperwork to sift through but they sat unopened beside him in a haphazard pile. He was too distracted of late to focus on his work, his mind was filled with worry and anticipation about the upcoming visit.
His parents were arriving in one hour. They would arrive precisely to the minute, as they always did, but still he found himself flinching at every sound, thinking it might be them. He hadn't been on edge like this since he was a child. He had learned to put up with his parents and live his life away from them as much as possible. But now he had something to lose, something he knew they would try to force away from him.
He wondered if he had made a huge mistake. Perhaps continuing on with them blissfully unaware would have been better. But then, when they eventually got to have a wedding ceremony, he would have to at least inform them then. And if he didn't, would they not be worse the longer it was a secret? No. He had to clear the air and have everything out in the open. Elliot did not deserve to be treated like some dirty little secret. If they had a problem with him, then he would fight any battle that came his way.
He wished Elliot was here now, He felt calmer when he was nearby. It was almost as if he oozed a calm aura like mist, he could feel his very muscles relax when he was close. But with him gone he felt tense, agitated and achingly lonely.
He had only left yesterday for Harvey and Ella's house, but it felt like too long. Even though it had been Damien's insistence that had convinced him to leave. He wanted to shield Elliot from his parents as much as possible. He had to do this the right way, and forcing a stranger on them the moment they arrived he knew wouldn't go down well.
The minutes ticked ever closer and his mind tormented him with the worst memories of his parents. His father smacking him across the cheek at twelve years old for a B grade in his maths test as his mother watched, her eyes distant and icy. His many hits over the head for various misdemeanours as a child, or just because he was angry and needed someone to blame. Then there was the spanks, sometimes with harder utensils than his hands... but he couldn't bare to relive those memories.
As a child Damien had preferred his father to hit him than he hit his mother. He had thought of himself as her protector. But the older he got, the more he realised how little his mother had tried to protect him in return.
He had even tried being a rebellious teen. Away at boarding school he grew confidence in himself and sometimes broke the rules with his friends. But as soon as holidays struck he would be punished, returning to school wincing from bruises and withdrawing from friendship circles to focus on his work.
This was why he couldn't bear to hurt Elliot. He would get angry, he had his fathers temper and he loathed that about himself. But he refused to ever show it physically. He liked to think this was a strength in himself, although his father would probably sneer that he was weak.
His mind fell on the last time he had seen his father. They had begrudgingly let him take control of the estate, but under strict orders not to change any of the decor. You may think this was a kindness but when you own fourteen properties globally, it wasn't exactly a big sacrifice. He had tried to show his gratitude nonetheless, but for the first year he hadn't stepped foot in the place. There were too many bad memories.
It was only when Hector had told him he had to reside in the place to oversee some work that was being undertaken that he began to warm to the place. It was a beautiful building, and he decided not to hold his past against it. He made small tweaks to the place. He got rid of the chair that his father had liked to sit in when he beat him... The fire iron, that had to go too.
He longed to get rid of that painting, but he knew the housekeepers or some nosey family friends would pass that back to his parents. He remembered the day that painting was done, he was furious at his father for making him do it, and somehow the artist had captured that anger and made him look confident. His father scolded him for it, saying he looked like some upstart rabble rouser, but he hung the painting anyway. From then on he would use it to remind himself that he could fake confidence and control by using the anger and hatred of his father. It took a long time to break down those hateful thoughts and learn to be a normal person again. That god awful painting, it couldn't go, not yet. His changes had to be subtle.
"Try not to waste away all your financial assets we've helped you accumulate on ridiculous parties and such," his father had said in a bored voice.
"I don't have ridiculous parties, I have the occasional networking events that are actually very beneficial-"
"I really don't care what you call them," he interrupted. "They're pathetic and serve your already inflated ego. Remember without me and my fortune you-"
"I know. I would be nothing without you," he said for the millionth time since he was old enough to be given his weekly allowance. He secretly wished he was nothing, nothing would be better than this constant need to prove himself to his eternally disappointed father. A repeating reminder of his failures.
"Exactly right, and don't forget that whilst we're in India. You're to keep the family investments afloat, finally do some real work for the money you flippantly spend."
He gritted his teeth. He had never spent any of his fathers money flippantly, careful to only spend money he had earned himself. But in his fathers eyes all that was also his. It made Damien feel sick, like a little boy following Daddy's orders, not a fully grown man.
The relief he felt when they left was equal to the dread he now felt at their return. He had to tell them about Elliot. He had to tell them their only son was gay, not only that, engaged to another man. He wondered what he would do.
There was a knock at the door of his study and he was pulled from his reverie.
"Good evening sir, just letting you know that Mr and Mrs Parker have just passed through the gates."
"What?" He looked at the clock, "he had been sat reliving painful memories for almost the entire hour. He stood, straightening his suit, feeling his heart in his chest. The housekeeper gave him a look of understanding and hurried away. Most of them hated his father too. Rude, impatient and self important man that he was.
He picked up his phone from his desk and saw a text from Elliot.
"I miss you, let me know how it goes x"
The words gave him a burst of strength. He could and would do this. For Elliot.
He approached the door and took a deep breath before opening it. Stepping out of the car at the foot of the steps were his mother and father.
They both were more tanned than the last time he saw them. His fathers once greying hair was fully grey now, and his mother had developed crows feet wrinkles around her eyes. She looked colourful in a bright sari with a intricate floral brooch at her breast. She had been trying some fad diet again as her skin was sallow around her cheekbones, but she smiled anyway.
"Hello darling, thank you for inviting us," she said, approaching him and giving him a kiss on each cheek. She smelled of exotic spices and shea butter.
Then his father walked towards him, his moustache still sat above his lip, dark black hairs flecked through the grey, his eyes so much like his own except filled with something more menacing, framed by large brows that always seemed to be frowning.
"It's hardly an invitation when it's our home Gloria," he chided, reaching his hand out to Damien. Damien shook it and his father nodded without a word.
"My name is on the deed, so technically-"
"Technically nothing, I bought this place. It is still my home boy don't forget it."
Boy. Really? Still? He decided to grit his teeth and ignore the insult. He needed to keep his father sweet. Well as sweet as possible.
"Well are you going to let us in or are you going to slouch in front of the doorway all day?" His father grunted.
Damien opened the door for them and they followed him in, Hector lugging a pair of enormous suitcases behind them.
"Ah I forgot how beautiful this place was Richard," his mother said fondly, looking around with a look of nostalgia.
