The thing that Foggy noticed about Matt is that whenever they went out to go drinking, Matt never fully got drunk. Sure, he'd get tipsy. He'd loosen up a fraction and laugh more than he ever laughed while sober. Sometimes, though, underneath the laughter he'd get a look on his face. It wasn't a good look. His voice never portrayed sadness and he'd never lighten up on his laughter until he thought Foggy was no longer awake or paying attention to the world around him. When Foggy would fall asleep, he knew Matt was at his desk studying again. Laughter gone, smile gone.
Foggy hadn't really figured out much about Matt during their first semester rooming together. He knew Matt was blind but tried often to act like he didn't have a disability. He was adamant he could do things on his own. He learned some things throughout time, mostly from studying him and understanding that Matt had a disability. The blindness would not go away no matter how independent Matt was. It was sad, often, when the frustration would be obvious on Matt's face. The frustration meant that he realized there was something he could not do on his own and that only reminded him that blindness was a disability.
Foggy had to be the one who fought for Matt to have the same rights as any other student. That meant that when one of Matt's professors printed assignments and notes and handed them out to everybody, including a blind Matt who could most definitely not read the paper, Foggy had to be the one who fought for him. Matt always smiled, said it was alright, and said he paid extra attention in that class to pick up on anything that might be useful for him to know for the assignments. Foggy, on the other hand, went straight to the books. He pulled up all the ADA regulations, the school's policies, and his own firm opinions and took them straight to that professor. He demanded he give Matt access to the information just like the other students because Matt would never demand equality for himself.
That also meant that Foggy had to accompany Matt to the store. Matt couldn't see the labels and would never ask anybody for help but Foggy understood the problem. So he'd offer his elbow and walk the two of them to some local grocery store, help pick out what he knew Matt needed, and then they'd go to the register to check out. Cashiers tried to pull a fast one on Matt, handing him back the wrong amount of bills and claim it to be his change. He'd see the way Matt's shoulders tensed slightly and Foggy knew without a doubt that Matt understood he was being robbed but was too much of an idiot to do so (or, rather, he didn't like standing up for himself. He'd stand up for others but never himself). Foggy would be the one to step him, demand the cashier to give him the proper amount of change, and they'd be on their way.
Matt thanked him in ways without out-right saying thank you. Saying thank you meant that he had needed help in the first place and he didn't want to admit that at all. So, instead, Matt would help him study more. He would read out loud from their shared textbooks so Foggy could have a slight break from reading on his own. He'd go out early in the morning and return before Foggy woke up with hot coffee and a fresh bagel. He'd even go out to some parties that Foggy basically begged him to attend even if Matt really, really hated parties.
Foggy knew all of these things by the beginning of their spring semester that first year together. It took him a few months to piece things together but he had a better understanding about Matt this time around. He never said anything, knowing Matt's walls would build up a bit more and he'd start refusing the help offered (even though Foggy never straight up offered. Instead, he'd suggest that the two of them head to the store, go get something for dinner, go take a walk around campus when Matt was more angst-filled than usual). His understanding of his friend only seemed to grow the more time they spent together.
Fast-forward to the end of their second fall semester. Finals had ended and it was going to be their last night on campus. As most other students did, Matt and Foggy went out to have some drinks. Foggy had a plan. Matt would talk more often when he was drinking and Foggy would end up asleep soon after laying in bed. So, instead, Foggy planned on limiting his intake of alcohol for the night in order to remain coherent to have a long conversation with his friend. His plan went sort of sideways when Matt kept drinking more than usual. Foggy knew why: Matt was stressed. Matt had slept maybe two hours at most each night for the past week (as opposed to his normal three-four hours). He was barely eating (Foggy hadn't seen him eat in over two weeks but Matt assured him he was taking care of himself). He had studied himself out for their most stressful finals yet. Matt's normal 'I'm-sad-but-you'll-never-get-me-to-admit-it-because-I'm-a-martyr face' was replaced with one that screamed 'I'm-more-depressed-than-usual-so-I'm-not-going-to-stop-drinking.' It hurt to see.
Matt seemed to have his own plan for the night: Get black out drunk. He was making good work of doing that.
The two of them hadn't been out for long before Foggy decided to end Matt's intake of alcohol. Matt, being Matt, smiled and laughing while claiming he had too much anyways despite the way his body tensed up in disagreement. They head back to their dorm room, taking a longer way back but not going for an unnecessary long walk. The fresh air was good for Matt; he was often shelled up in their room and Foggy was certain he was claustrophobic to a certain extent. He helped lead his extremely drunk friend up the stairs to their room and Matt, wasting no time, collapsed onto his bed. He kept his shoes, scarf, jacket, and sunglasses on. His cane fell, forgotten, on the floor beside the bed. He was laughing quietly to himself but it sounded more hysterical than amusing.
There was no way Foggy could even think about trying to get Matt to talk in the condition he was in. With how drunk Matt was, it would be more like taking emotional advantage over him. Heaving a sigh, Foggy went about taking care of Matt like Matt would often take care of him when he had too much to drink. He pulled Matt's shoes off (leaving the socks - bastard slept in socks. Just one more reason to call him an idiot) and then worked on getting him out of his jacket. His scarf came along with that before he reached up to pull the glasses off. Matt seemed to be acting on instinct when he reached his hand up and grabbed a hold of Foggy's wrist before the sunglasses were off his face. The action was so sudden and caused the laughter to stop. Foggy froze.
"Hey, buddy, I'm just gonna put these on the table next to your bed, okay?" he asked, hoping that maybe Matt was just too out of it to realize what was going on. Besides, he rationed, life was probably so much more intimidating when blind. It could have easily been excused that Matt just hadn't known it was Foggy and got afraid. But just in case it was more than that... "I've seen your eyes, Matty. I see them everyday. You don't need these around me." Matt never took his glasses off around anybody except for Foggy. Wordlessly, Matt released his grip on Foggy's wrist and allowed the glasses to come off his face. "You really overdid yourself this time, didn't you?"
"Gotta go all out before finding somewhere to go," Matt said, voice so neutral as if he didn't essentially just say he hadn't found a place to go yet. Yeah, Matt was too drunk to be talking if he was going to say stuff like that. He had assured Foggy he had it all figured out. He knew Matt was an orphan with no other family and Foggy was really his only true friend. Foggy offered to let him stay with his family over the break but Matt had long since shut that down.
Foggy took a seat beside where Matt was laying, body curled up on himself as if he was cold but making no move to get under the blanket. His eyes were closed when the sunglasses came off and he looked as if he could have been asleep. Foggy never could tell when wakefulness ended and sleeping began. He rarely saw his friend sleep. "Matt, do you have some place to go during break?"
"Huh?" Matt asked. He probably hadn't realized that he said anything to begin with. That drunk. "Oh, yeah, I got some place to go." He said it with such a straight face and even tone that it sounded true. Matt, unfortunately, was a good liar. He lied a lot, Foggy suspected, but he had no proof as to that. Aside from stupid lies ('No, Foggy, I didn't trip you on purpose'), Foggy only caught him in one real lie. And the lie was to only make Foggy feel better. Foggy had gotten only an 84% on an assignment and Matt smiled and said he only had an 81%. But Matt had a look of guilt on his face, one he probably didn't even know he had. When Foggy sneaked a look at his paper, Matt had a 98%. Matt always sounded convincing when he was lying about himself, though. 'Yes, I already ate' or 'I fell asleep only a little while after you did.' He lied about taking care of himself and his own needs and that only made it hard for Foggy to call him on. There was no way for him to find out the truth.
"Are you sure?" Foggy knew pressing the issue would only make Matt clam up more but maybe since he was drunk it wouldn't have that affect. "My place is your place if you need it. If you want it."
"I'm sure." And there was that stupid smile that only Matt could pull off. The smile that made Foggy wonder if maybe he was too paranoid and Matt was actually okay.
"Get some rest then, pal." Foggy crawled into his own bed after sliding off his own shoes and fell asleep rather quickly. He may have had some difficulties in deciphering sleeping Matt versus pretend sleeping Matt but he was fairly certain Matt was most definitely asleep.
Judging by the time on his alarm clock as he jumped up, they were only asleep for a mere two hours. A loud yell had Foggy out of bed and rushing to Matt's side of the room before he was even aware of what was going on. Truthfully, loud was probably the wrong adjective to use. Sudden was more like it because the yell was on the quieter side. But Matt, not once in three semesters, had spoken or made any verbal noise while Foggy was asleep, so the noise seemed loud at the time. Foggy sat on the edge of Matt's bed, one arm keeping himself steady and the other resting on Matt's side to give him a shake. Somehow he was able to avoid the feet that were kicking only inches away from where he was sat. "Matt? Wake up, you're okay."
He wasn't expecting the fist that came towards his face but he was able to hold his arm up for protection quick enough. Matt was sleeping on one arm so he didn't have to worry about getting punced again as he pinned down the hand that had been swung at him. "Matt," he said more forcefully, his heart beating in fear and adrenaline now. Everybody had nightmares but he's never seen Matt dream let alone have a nightmare. He never seemed to stay asleep long enough to. "Matt, wake up. It's just me, pal."
As soon as Foggy had Matt's wrist pinned to the mattress, his whole demeanor changed from the defensive to something even worse than that: begging. "No, please," Matt had choked out, effectively ceasing all movement from Foggy. His voice had been so quiet yet so scared. There was no tone suggesting he was begging but it was the wide eyes and small voice that portrayed it. "Please, stop." The second time he spoke, Foggy had been able to react more than freezing. He let go of Matt's wrist and instead grabbed his hand, intertwining their fingers. He didn't want to let go of his hand completely so he didn't get hit but he knew the fear was at being held down. Holding hands seemed less threatening than pinning down a wrist.
"Matty," Foggy whispered, using the hand that had been keeping him balanced to instead rest on Matt's head. He ran his fingers through his hair slowly. Whenever his little sister would have nightmares, that would always calm her down. "Matt, buddy, it's fine. Whatever is happening in that head of yours isn't real. You're okay." Honestly, Foggy felt scared enough from Matt's nightmare without ever knowing what the nightmare was about. It really shook him up.
Tears appeared in Matt's eyes and it was only then that Foggy realized he never turned the lights out. Matt usually took care of that even if he couldn't exactly see the lights. "Foggy?" he whispered back but it was easy to tell he was still asleep. Even with eyes wide opened and crying.
"Yeah, buddy, it's me. Everything is okay. Close your eyes," he said gently and Matt, for once, listened. His eyes were closed and his breathing was evening itself out. "Just get some rest, pal."
It took Foggy thirty minutes to stop petting Matt's hair and get back into his own bed, and it took another ten to actually fall asleep. What had happened shook him up beyond words. Sure, it wasn't the worst reaction to a nightmare. Hell, Foggy had a horrible one sometime during spring semester freshman year where he had screamed loud enough that someone down the hall probably heard it, and when he finally came to he was crying and panicking. It had been an awful dream where he lost his sister (for all the crap he gave her, he really did love her). Matt had sat with him the entire time while he tried to catch his breath and shake himself out of it. But this had been different. This had been Matt having the nightmare. A nightmare where he begged someone to stop and he had swung his fist in defense. This had been a nightmare where he was hurt. Someone had hurt Matt bad enough for him to have nightmares about it and Foggy had absolutely no idea if it was recent or a thing of the past. Neither were good thoughts.
In the morning, he was surprised to see that Matt was still asleep. It didn't look like he had gotten up at any point in the night because everything was exactly where it had been left. Matt was always up before Foggy even when Foggy had an earlier class than Matt. It was just a fact. Foggy fell asleep first and woke up last. But instead, Matt was still asleep, curled up in his stupid silk sheets and probably drooling somewhere under the pill where his head currently was. Foggy strained his ears to see if he was hearing correctly and - yes, Matt Murdock was snoring. It was very faint, almost unnoticeable, but it was there. Soft snores that could easily be passed off as breathing to the untrained ear. It took until the end of the third semester to realize that Matt snores. What that meant to Foggy was that Matt had never been fully asleep while Foggy was awake. He would be overwhelmed at the adorableness of the snoring if it wasn't for that fact.
Matt stayed asleep all morning and afternoon, literally. They got back to their room around two in the morning and Matt didn't start to stir until shortly after four pm. Foggy had long since had breakfast and lunch. He had also finished up packing. Matt had been been packing smaller things throughout the week and so he had almost finished packing by the time their last final came around. He finished, aside from another set of clothes, his bedsheets, and other small necessities, before they went out drinking. Foggy hadn't started, but Matt was asleep and he was bored so he finished. His mom would be coming to pick him up around six so he still had time to spare.
"'at t'me?" he heard Matt mumble, startling him. He was online, going through the classes for the next semester.
"4:17 in the afternoon, my friend," he answered, hoping he didn't fail at keeping his voice light. He had no idea if Matt would want to talk about the nightmare or if he'd even remember having it. "You must have been tired. Fourteen hours. Almost beats my record. Well, it does beat my record, but my record of thirteen hours was me sober. You were wasted so that's practically cheating."
Matt made a move as if he was going to sit up but then decided against it as he let his body drop back down on the bed. "Wasn't wasted."
Foggy let himself laugh at that because, really, who was Matt kidding? "Buddy, you were so gone. You even fell into bed with your shoes on, man. You yell at me whenever I do that! So, do you want to be drunk or hypocritical?"
"Whatever," Matt grumbled, no real malice behind it. He didn't sound anymore ready to get up.
"What do you remember about last night?" Foggy cut right to the chase, not really wanting to wait any longer to talk about it. If Matt needed a shoulder to cry on, he'd give him one, but he needed to know if that's what Matt even wanted.
That got Matt's attention and after a moment of struggling, he finally forced himself into a sitting position and allowed Foggy to see him. He had the worst case of bedhead. Ever. There was nobody in the world who had bedhead the way Matt did. He had definitely drooled at some point because there was the leftovers of it on his cheek and almost reaching his next. The entire right side of his face was red, probably from where it had been laying on his arm. His eyes were closed, scrunched in pain at being in a sitting position. Foggy understood too clearly: hangovers were the worst. Matt looked the worst Foggy had ever seen him and yet he wanted to laugh because clearly he slept good.
"Should I remember something about last night?" Matt asked, dragging Foggy from his internal 'make fun of Matt or not' debate.
Apparently hungover Matt couldn't lie as well as sober or drunk Matt. Matt's fingers were picking at his clothes and his face was lowered, facing the bed instead of Foggy (because Matt usually insisted on at least looking in the general direction of Foggy when they were talking). He had a small, innocent smile on his face that was so out of place. Hungover people don't smile unless they're trying to hide something. Those are the rules. Matt was trying to pretend it didn't happen. He was playing dumb despite knowing exactly what Foggy was talking about. So, Foggy would let him. If Matt wanted to pretend like there was no nightmares or begging someone to stop, then Foggy would drop it. "Not at all, buddy. You drank enough to forget the entire week, I'm sure."