[He can hear Arthur, can feel his urgency, telling him to wait, and he's already halting his steps-- except in the span of the next second or two, it's less because of Arthur that he stops and more because he's nearly doubling over, leaning heavily on his cane and his free hand flying to his temple, pushing his glasses along the way so they slide down, and his eyes are squeezed shut behind them, like that alone could stop the sudden onslaught of--
-- everything he's felt before at one point or another, really, and the strong knowledge that it's to do with a father is the only thing that tells him that no, no, these aren't his feelings, these aren't his memories, because some of these he's only ever felt around Stick, and whatever else he is, he's certainly no father.
Knowing Arthur's still near, Matt manages to choke out:]