Author's notes:
I haven't read any fanfiction in this fandom in a little while, and I wasn't expecting to write something about this, but I just really had to. I began writing this while watching episode 2 of the new season last weekend, so it's maybe a little spoilery, but the entire scene is like a missing scene, so all made up. I don't know how much that's spoilery… but just in case, this is a little warning.
The characters may be a little out of character, especially Matt, but I needed that kind of behavior for it to work.
There will be a second part which will be Foggy's POV.
Chapter 1: Matt's POV
There was no sound. He was alone.
He couldn't even hear his own breathing and heart beating, but he knew it was going fast. Surrounded by complete darkness and nothingness, he began to panic, his breathing becoming more difficult by the second.
Was this permanent? Was he going to be like this for the rest of his life?
He shook his head hard from right to left once, as if his hearing could come back by doing so. He couldn't live like this; he wouldn't. In this moment, he felt scared, even more than he had been when he'd realized he had lost his sight. And alone. He felt so alone…
He was sure he was hyperventilating when he felt a weight on his right shoulder. Startled, he tried to back away from it, only to realize that he was already practically hugging the wall behind him. The weight got a little heavier and squeezed his shoulder gently. Through his panicked state, his brain finally figured out it was a hand.
He was about to knock the limb out and try to protect himself, but another hand closed around his left wrist lightly, fingers encircling it, and guiding his own hand toward… something.
That something was a face. Surprised, his hand traveled hesitantly along the soft edges, touching, almost caressing, the cheek, mouth and nose, going back up to the corner of an eye.
His hand caught the semi-long hair across the side of the forehead and his right hand instantly went to the other side of that face, pressing a little harder, convincing himself of the familiar presence that was in front of him.
Foggy. It was Foggy's face. He had done this a few years before with his friend, curious to know what he "looked" like, and he would remember him anywhere.
After a few more minutes, his breathing began to slow down, but his hands started to shake against the skin under his fingertips. Then two hands covered his and he felt Foggy's forehead against his own. He could also feel his friend's breath against his face; Foggy was talking to him, but he couldn't hear him. He couldn't hear his friend's voice…
The panic started up again; not only were his hands shaking, but his entire body as well, now. Tears built up behind his now closed eyes and started to fall onto his cheeks silently.
A hand on his back pushed his body slightly forward into awaiting, warm arms that encircled him. He put his head on Foggy's left shoulder and cried softly, wanting… no, needing to feel safe. He needed to feel like he had control again – over his life, over his own body. But he didn't know how at the moment. Foggy was a familiar presence that could achieve that for him, right now.
His own hands went to his friend's forearms and squeezed them shakily, but with determination, as if the other man was a lifeline.
And he was.
Foggy was here, with him, a warm hand slowly tracing light circles on his back, and holding him in a gentle embrace. He wasn't alone.
Gradually, his breathing slowed down again; his tears stopped falling, but he still had his hands tightly wound up in his friend's clothing. He didn't want to let go, scared that, if he did, Foggy would disappear and he would be alone again. And scared…
Well, he was still afraid this situation would be permanent, but, right now, he just wanted not to be alone. The silence was eerie, but, at least, he wasn't alone.
A few moments later, Foggy helped him stand on trembling legs. He felt an arm going around his waist, steadying him, while they were walking towards what he assumed was his bedroom – his head wasn't exactly in working order at the moment. It was still a little… foggy – he didn't even have the strength to smirk a little at that thought.
It felt like an eternity had passed when his friend helped him sit and lie down on his bed. When Foggy's hand was about to let go, he reached for it, grasping his wrist in a firm hold.
He didn't want to be alone. There was too much silence and complete darkness. It made him feel defenseless, vulnerable and weak, something he had felt a few times in his life, but not like this. Never like this.
The bed dipped a little under him when Foggy sat and lied down as well beside him. Instantly, he put his head down on his friend's chest, near his heart. If he couldn't hear the sound of it beating, he could at least feel the vibration through his shirt. It comforted him in a way he would never be able to explain.
If the other man was surprised by his unusual behavior, he didn't show it. A hand reappeared on his back and grounded him while his body tried to relax under the attention.
Slowly, but surely, he began to sink into oblivion, exhausted by the last events that had happened since the day before.
When he woke up, the first thing he was aware of was that he could hear Foggy's hearbeat against his ear. In that moment, he thought that was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.