Karen shut her laptop – it was 2:30 in the morning on a Friday night, and unlike most of her friends who had gone out to party, she had stayed in to work on her research paper for her psychology class. She had wanted to finish it early on in the weekend so that she could study for her other classes in which she had exams over the next week.
It's a lie, she thought bitterly. Midterms don't come once in the middle of the term. After the first three weeks of class you have midterm after midterm, every single week. Assholes. The last word was said as she thought about her professors. For the large amount of money she paid for her education, she expected more from them. Most were too concerned with their own research to try to actually teach the lowly undergrads, and the few that did try to teach were either extraordinarily bad at it or simply unintelligible due to their thick accents. Karen tried to understand what they were saying and to focus on their words, but when she was struggling to simply wake up for her 8 am, it was nearly impossible to distinguish mispronunciation after mispronunciation, to substitute the wrong words for the right ones. She felt bad about not being able to understand. After all, while she had semi-fluidity in Spanish, she didn't know any other languages. Her professors were brilliant after all, multi-lingual in addition to being spectacularly knowledgeable in their fields. She just couldn't learn from them.
She gathered her belongings into her backpack so that she could carry them down the hall to her room. Rather than becoming a hermit in the library, she had remained in a common room on her hall for the duration of the night, so that she could talk to the occasional visitor as well as have the company of the other students who sacrificed a night of their weekends to work.
Across from her, sprawled on the couch, lay the sleeping form of Matt Murdock. She sighed. Matt had stumbled in after having a few too many drinks about an hour ago and sat on her lap while he conversed with the other people in the room. Karen had put her laptop to the side, outside of Matt's drunken, uncoordinated movements, and waited patiently until he got up and moved to the other side of the room. She had done nothing when Foggy, Matt's suitemate, tied Matt's foot to the couch leg by his shoelace.
Matthew Murdock was one of several sources of frustration in her life. He was a year above her, and they had met on her very first day at university. Although their first interaction was stifled by her desire to unpack and move in, Karen distinctly remembered the moment she knew that she liked him – as more than a friend. Curse her luck, Matt had been assigned to be her orientation leader, and thus outside of the realm of possible boyfriends. She was intrigued but polite; she had almost no experience with blind people before. But Matt had moved gracefully and effortlessly, and the way he turned his face to her during conversation, she could swear that he could see through his dark red glasses. She knew she liked him on that first day of orientation week. Another freshman in her group was an international student. She didn't know how to play whatever icebreaker game that they were playing. While the other leaders in the group danced around the international student, Matt had sat next to her and quietly explained it, looking in her direction, somehow knowing when she nodded and smiled with understanding. Karen supposed he was used to being the one treated with fragility, with an air of awkwardness. But that Matt, that compassionate, smart, funny, attractive Matt was the one she knew she loved.
She stared at his prone form as she reminisced and sighed again. Matt had a bit of a reputation, talked up, perhaps, by Foggy, of having many relations with women. While she and Matt had flirted, even drunkenly cuddled a few times, they had never hooked up. It pissed her off. People had even asked her if she and Matt were in a relationship, and she had to laugh and say no, that they were just friends. He currently had a self-described "thing" with one of the freshmen girls the year below her. She thought that junior-freshmen relationships were a bit of a joke, and she wouldn't admit, even to herself, how much it bothered her that he never chose her. But she couldn't leave him there, drunk and helpless, foot tied to the couch so that almost certainly he would fall when he got up. She bent down and carefully untied his shoe from the couch leg, then retied it on his foot. Matt must have been really drunk, really tired, or both, because he didn't stir.
Karen stood up to leave, and then frowned at him on the couch. Matt really liked his privacy, and she doubted he would be pleased if he woke up in a public space. With a less than gentle touch, she prodded at his shoulder a few times. Nothing. She prodded again, and he stayed asleep. She turned to leave once again, but couldn't just leave him there. It was then that Matt stirred.
"Karen?" Matt asked as he moved his face blankly around the room, slurring slightly.
"Yes," she said crisply. "Get up," she ordered. She noted with a hint of satisfaction that her voice was hard, almost angry. Matt obediently shuffled himself into a sitting position and slumped against the back of the couch. "Get up," she repeated, "Right now."
"Can you help me?" Matt asked, his voice small and his drunken self comically helpless. Karen sighed. Drunk, adorable Matt was not what she needed right now. He held out his hands and she placed hers in his, the pulled him to his feet. Matt's legs didn't seem to be cooperating, and Karen found herself doing most of the work.
"Come on Matt, help me out here," she muttered as he came to a stand.
"Thanks," he slurred. He stepped into her and clumsily pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. It took a lot of effort for Karen to not melt into it.
"Let's go," she said crisply after an extra moment. "You're going to bed."
"Okay," Matt drunkenly agreed, smiling.
"Your room is this way," she said, pulling at his sleeve. Matt flung an arm over her shoulder and leaned against her. "Alright," she sighed. Karen and Matt walked arm and arm toward his room. When they arrived, they stood there for a moment, and Karen looked expectantly at him.
"What?" Matt asked, seeming to sense her eyes on him.
"Keys, Matt. I can't open your door." Matt fished around in his pocket before pulling out his key loop. He fumbled around, then attempted to push a plastic bottle opener into the keyhole of his lock.
"Uh, that one's not it. Your real key."
"I know," he smiled dopily. "I was just trying to be funny," he slurred at her. Upon finally selecting the right key, Matt clumsily opened the door and walked inside.
"Okay, do you need anything?" Karen asked, looking inside to see if he had any water out or some snacks, but of course Matt hadn't bothered to turn on the light.
"No, I'm okay." Matt was still smiling, and his dorky face both softened and heightened Karen's frustration.
"Okay. Goodnight, Matt," she said tiredly.
"Goodnight Karen. See you tomorrow."
Karen allowed the door to close and walked down the hallway to her room. She tried to make as little noise as possible opening the door, setting down her backpack, and brushing her teeth so not to wake her roommate.
"Karen!" Matt's voice stood out in the commotion of the crowded room. Somehow, Matt always knew when people walked into the room. Karen wondered if he could smell her perfume. Karen and Matt made their way toward one another, and Foggy gave the two of them a look that only Karen could notice. She rolled her eyes as Matt pulled her into a hug.
"This one," Matt said, motioning at Foggy, "was very confused when I told him that I woke up in my own bed this morning. But I'm pretty sure you had something to do with that," he said brightly.
"I, uh, yeah. Well I couldn't just leave you there, destined to fall and crack your head open on the side table." Karen shrugged.
"So what, you just woke me up? I don't remember." A guilty smirk played on Matt's lips.
Ah, Karen thought. "I just woke you up and walked you to your room," she said. It was the truth, just without some extra details.
"Well, thank you," he said, his voice swelling with gratitude. "You're the best, Karen."
"I, uh, thanks Matt." Warily, Karen accepted another hug and turned to leave. She didn't need Matthew Murdock to confuse her even further.