"Please don't pretend you don't like beer," Foggy said. "You drank enough of it last night." He was in bed already, the light turned off although Matt was still sat at his desk reading. That was kind of weird, when he thought about it, but it wasn't like it made any difference to his roommate. It wasn't completely dark in there; the light shone in under the door from the hall, and through the thin curtain from the streetlight outside, providing Foggy with just enough light to see by now that his eyes had adjusted.
Matt turned a page in his book, placed a bookmark in the next two pages and closed it before turning around to face in Foggy's direction. "I do like beer, to drink. I don't like the smell of it going stale in old bottles."
Foggy frowned. He glanced around the room. On his own desk, two empty bottles of Budweiser were pushed up against the wall. Several more had been dropped into the trash can. They weren't just his, he didn't sit in the room and drink by himself, Marci had stopped by while Matt was out at the library a few nights ago.
Foggy took a deep breath in through his nose. Nothing. "There is no way you can smell that," he said. "Wait, is there? Is this some kind of blind thing?"
Matt sighed. "Yeah, that's exactly what it is, Foggy. Blind people don't like to sleep in rooms filled with trash. It's not just blind people either, it's not something that people in general enjoy."
"You need to narrow your study set to just include college students," Foggy told him. He turned over and closed his eyes. "I think you'll find the results are a little different."
He really wanted to like his new roommate. No, scratch that, he did like his new roommate. He was a great guy and for the most part they got on really well, it was just there were a few things about the guy that drove Foggy crazy, and not in a good way. That was okay though, it was a very lucky student who was 100% happy with the person the college had randomly decided to place them with, right? Foggy put himself at about 80%, and that was pretty damn good, actually.
The only problem was that the other 20% of the time he wanted to kill him, and that was even taking into account the fact that he was a genuine hero that Foggy was still pretty much in awe of.
He was fairly sure Matt was feeling the strain too. In fact, that was part of the problem, because when he pissed Matt off, Matt complained, and that's how the arguments started.
He wondered whether that would get better in time, or worse.
It was ridiculous. It was inhuman. Matt hadn't even known that a person was capable of making that much noise. How Foggy didn't wake himself up, Matt had no idea.
Ear plugs hadn't worked; although they were effective in blocking out at least some of the noise, they were just so uncomfortable to wear, and that was before he turned over in his sleep and pushed an ear against his pillow, forcing the plug uncomfortably deep into his ear canal and waking him up. He bought a pair of large ear protectors of the kind workmen in noisy conditions might wear. They were better, comfort wise, and the size of them stopped him turning too much in his sleep and dislodging them. It had seemed like the perfect solution.
For some reason, it hadn't occurred to him until now that Foggy would notice.
"Dude, what the hell?"
The earmuffs reduced the overall sound level in the room, but they didn't block it completely, especially not with his sensitive hearing. He woke to the awareness that Foggy was standing about two feet away from him, facing in his direction. The tone of his voice was not happy, to say the least.
Matt opened his eyes. He took off the earmuffs and placed them on the table next to his bed, swapping them for the pair of sunglasses that he left there overnight.
"Dude," Foggy repeated. "What the hell?"
"What?" Matt stretched, yawned and kicked off his covers. It was a little warm in the room. He got up to open the window.
Foggy turned to follow him with his eyes as he walked across to the other side of the room. "What, he says? What? I thought it was a bit weird when you started wearing headphones to go to bed, but I thought, hey, whatever, the guy obviously loves his music, fair enough. Then I realize they're not headphones at all, they're some kind of industrial strength noise blocker. Yeah, that's not offensive at all! I mean I realize I snore a bit, but come on!"
Matt opened the window, a flood of new scents filled the room, combined with the sound of early risers making their way to the library or out for breakfast. Birds sang from the branches of leafy trees that whispered in the light breeze, beyond the campus he could hear traffic from the roads of the city as rush hour began to get underway. Behind him, Foggy picked up the earmuffs and put them on.
"Oh my God," he exclaimed. His voice was louder than normal as the muffling effect prevented him from regulating his own tone. "This is insane," He clapped his hands together a few times, then rapped his knuckles on the top of the bedside table. He took the earmuffs off and put them down, careful to leave them in the exact position that he had found them. "You snore too, you know," he said.
Matt shook his head. "I don't…"
"Oh, you do. Not every night, but when you do it's like a pneumatic drill. Seriously, the floor vibrates. I'm surprised we haven't had complaints from the neighbors. Me, I snore like a purring kitten. I know that for a fact because Marci told me."
Matt felt himself start to smile. He turned away, but it was too late, Foggy had seen it.
"That's funny, is it?"
He couldn't help it. The giggle escaped like bubbles of air underwater, rising to the surface, unstoppable. "Sorry," he said. "It's just… a kitten? Really?"
"A very cute kitten," Foggy informed him. He laughed too, and Matt sighed in relief. "C'mon," he said, "lets get dressed and go out for breakfast, I've been dying to try that new place."
"Dude, it's just pizza," Foggy said. "You like pizza, I've seen you eating it, so don't pretend it's so offensive."
Matt was laying on his bed with an arm over his face, breathing in shallow breaths through his nose. It was ridiculous, like a little kid exaggerating his disgust at a plate of vegetables. In fact, exactly like Foggy as a little kid exaggerating his disgust at a plate of vegetables. But this was pizza, and there was not a vegetable in sight.
"It's not just pizza," Matt informed him, "it's pepperoni. You haven't seen me eat that. And anyway, eating something is different to smelling it."
"Is that your way of saying you want a slice?" Foggy asked.
Matt sighed. "No, it's my way of saying…" he broke off, and sighed. "Actually, yeah. If you don't mind. That might help."
"Happy hour all night," Foggy announced as he let himself into the room. The door swung wide behind him and hit the wall with a loud bang before swinging back and closing itself loudly. "Shit, sorry," Foggy said. He turned to the wall. "Sorry Mike!" he yelled. He turned to Matt. "His roommate says he has the worst hangover ever, slamming doors are probably not what he needs right now. What are you doing?"
Matt sighed. He uncrossed his legs and got to his feet. He put his glasses back on before he opened his eyes and stretched.
"Were you asleep on the floor?" Foggy asked.
"I was meditating," Matt told him.
Foggy sat down heavily on his bed, allowing the springs to bounce up and down with a creaking sound. "Meditating, huh? Isn't that a Buddhist thing? I thought you were Catholic."
"It's not a religious thing, not for me anyway. It's… it helps me focus."
Foggy got up, walked across the room and placed a flyer in Matt's hand. Matt ran his fingers over the surface. The paper was glossy, completely smooth to the touch. "Well focus on this," Foggy said. "Extended happy hour. Two drinks for the price of one all night if you show them this flyer. What do you say?"
Matt hesitated, then shook his head. "I can't," he said. "Not tonight. I have to finish that essay for Professor Xu."
"You haven't done that yet? You started it the same day I did, and I know you've been working on it pretty much non-stop since. You know it's an essay and not a dissertation, don't you?"
Matt shook his head. "I know. It's just, some things just tend to take a little bit longer for me than for most people."
"You're kidding, right? I've seen you type. I guess it's because you don't have to look at the keyboard like me, who never learned to touch type, but you are ridiculously fast. There's no way you…"
"You don't get it, Foggy. It's not typing that's the problem, it's getting hold of the right books in a format I can actually read. It's the fact that it's impossible to skim a page for the right information if you're reading with your fingers. Re-reading what you've written; checking for typos, repeated information, things you've missed. It all takes a lot longer. I'm not trying to be a swat, Foggy, I'm just trying to pass my classes, same as you."
Foggy sat back down on the bed and sighed loudly. "Shit. Okay, sorry. Aaaand Foggy's an insensitive asshole. Anything I can do to help?"
Matt shook his head. "No. I'm sorry, just having a bad day." He rubbed at his temples, a headache was brewing and his interrupted meditation hadn't helped any. He picked up a carrier bag from the end of his bed and offered it to Foggy. "I got you something."
"What? What is it?" Foggy accepted the bag and peered inside. He laughed as he pulled out a set of industrial strength earmuffs.
"For the nights when there's a pneumatic drill sleeping in the other bed," Matt told him.
"So, you're saying you don't watch TV at all?" Foggy stared at Matt in disbelief. "I mean, I know you can't actually watch it watch it, but don't they have those descriptive tracks that tell you what's going on?"
Matt shrugged. "Sometimes, less often than you'd think though. Anyway we only had one TV in St Agnes, and the other kids wouldn't exactly have appreciated having that talking over their shows."
"But… screw the other kids! It is every child's fundamental right to watch Star Wars! We rectify this immediately, okay? What else weren't you allowed to do?"
"It's not that I wasn't allowed to watch TV, Foggy. I just chose not to. I had other things to do, things that I could enjoy properly. Like reading."
"And music," Foggy said. "There aren't many obstacles stopping a blind guy enjoying music, are there? What's your favorite band?"
Matt shook his head. "I don't know. I don't really have one. I like classical."
Foggy's disbelief turned to horror. "No. No! This is unacceptable!"
"Raised by nuns, from the age of ten," Matt told him with a shrug. "Classical and hymns, and that was about it."
Foggy massaged his head with the tips of his fingers. "Okay, we need to educate you about music too. Star Wars, music that people actually enjoy listening to, what else?"
Matt shrugged helplessly.
"Disney? Star Trek? Getting so drunk you can't find your way home and end up sleeping on a bench? Actually, forget that last one, I think it's just me. Also, waking up with no memory of the night before, not knowing where you are? Probably not the best idea when you can't see."
"Probably not a great idea anyway."
Foggy laughed. "No. No it was not! Plus, would you even be able to sleep without those silk sheets? Imagine, the delicate Matt Murdock forced to sleep on inferior bedding!"
Matt frowned.
"Sorry, sorry. It's just…" Foggy laughed in a short, sharp burst, "Silk, seriously. We're supposed to be students, how pretentious can you get?"
Matt sighed. "It's a long story."
"I bet it is. And I also bet it ends with you falling into bed with some gorgeous girl and her falling in love with your sheets. You think they like you, but really it's the sheets. Hell, I'd sleep with you for this." Foggy rubbed a hand over the surface of the bed and groaned suggestively.
Matt ignored him. It wasn't worth trying to explain. He made plans, somewhere down the line, when Foggy least expected it, to throw a couple of handfuls of sand into his roommate's bed. See how he liked it. Yeah, he probably wasn't going to do that, but it was fun to think about.
Foggy gave up. He finished his bottle of beer and opened two more, passed one over to Matt. Matt pretended not to notice until he felt the cold neck of the bottle touch the back of his hand. "Thanks," he said.
"I promise I'll clear it out before we go to bed," Foggy promised.
Matt shrugged. "I can live with it for one night. We'll do it in the morning."
Foggy raised his bottle and downed what sounded like half of it in one go, air bubbling through the beer as he drank quickly. "So, Star Wars," he said. "I happen to have a… slightly illegal copy of all six movies on my laptop. The picture quality is terrible, but that won't make any difference to you. There's no audio commentary, but what do you say I give it a go? I know them all practically by heart anyway. Even Phantom Menace and that's not… well, you'll see. This is going to be great!"
"Hey, Foggy?"
Foggy glanced up from his book to find himself looking at the back of Matt's head. "Hmm?" he muttered.
"What are you going to do for accommodation next year?"
"What do you mean?"
Matt pressed a key on his laptop and pulled out the single ear bud, then turned around on his swivel chair to face him. "Accommodation?" He said. "You know, housing? A place to stay?"
Foggy rolled his eyes. The gesture was totally lost on Matt, of course. "I know what it means," he said. "I'm rolling my eyes, by the way. I dunno, I guess I haven't really thought about it yet. It probably is time to start looking though, or there'll be nothing left." He reached for his laptop and opened his internet browser. "Okay, tell me what you really don't want and I'll try to find someplace neither of us hate too much."
"You want to share again?" Matt said.
Foggy frowned. He had never even considered the possibility that Matt might not want to room with him for a second year. "Not if you don't," he said, embarrassed.
"No, I do," Matt told him. "I just thought you might not. I mean, I know I'm not the easiest person to live with."
Foggy snorted. "You can say that again, buddy. But then, nor am I. And we're used to each other now, I don't want to have to start breaking in a new roomie. So, what are we looking for in a room?"
Matt frowned, thinking about it while Foggy typed a few ideas into Google. "One thing though, if we can afford it," he said. "I'm thinking separate bedrooms."