There were some memories you really could not push aside; they were always the ones that could that you count on to put the smile back on your face when all other methods had failed. For Matthew Murdock, such thoughts were all he had left. His company Nelson and Murdock was no more and his relationship with Karen had ended before it had truly begun, allowing the all too familiar sensation of loneliness too, once again, wash over him.
His fingers aimlessly tugged and twisted around a loose piece of thread whilst his thoughts battled in an unrelenting turmoil of what brought him here and what were to be his next steps. The process had brought him back to Foggy and how the rollercoaster ride they considered a friendship really hit off. It had obviously begun back when the two discovered they were to be roommates. Foggy had greeted him the warmest of welcomes and from that moment alone, had considered then inseparable. Yet it was the first University party that the connection really started thickening.
- DD -
Typically enough it was fancy dress festivity, not that it would have made any difference to Matt, though he had some worry that it would affect his spatial awareness with the unfamiliarity of the room and unaccounted pieces of fabric.
"Everything okay, buddy?"
"Hmm? …Yeah." Focusing his attention back to his surroundings Matt closed the plainly covered book resting on his lap and offered up a less than convincing smile. "I'm just not sure about the party, I mean; I wasn't directly invited and honestly dressing up isn't really my thing."
"And that's where you're wrong, amigo; you have a duty as a wing man to join me to all events and overly fabricate my life making me more appealing to all the señoritas."
"I take it you still have your eye on the girl in your Spanish class?"
"Ah, ah, ah - you didn't let me finish …" Gesturing with a raised finger Foggy watched as his friend sat back, letting out a defeated breath. "But yes, she agreed to assist me with some revision later this week; anyway, getting back to the matter at hand my mom sent us these …" In his hand dangled a loose collection of hangers upon which hung several items of clothing, ranging from torn shirts to snug fitting leather pants with chains sprouting from random orifices. The only theme linking them together was the selective shades of black and grey. "She assured me these were all the rage back when she and my dad were around our age; she also mentioned something about a 'grunge genre' but I'm not entirely sure what that was."
"Oh, Foggy you didn't –"
"I did; I figured it would save our hard-saved cash, as well as giving you a reason to take a break from all this studying and living a little. So what are we waiting for?"
- DD -
It had to be the first and last time he had allowed anyone to style his hair with such a mass quantity of styling gel. It had taken at least four washes and a considerable amount of conditioner for his hair to feel somewhat natural. Some of the remarks he had received about the tight fitting leather still went unforgotten, as did the rather embarrassing matter with the chains, which still stuck with him to this day.
However, Foggy was right, just as he always was, sometimes he just needed to let loose and say the hell to what others thought. It just hurt more not having him standing at his side.