There is a special place in Matt Murdock's house.
It's not a physical place, not a room, or a chair, or a particular spot on the couch. It's not even always the same place.
It's the place where Frank Castle happens to be sitting, or standing, or lying down when Matt walks in.
It's the place from where Frank's heartbeat reaches Matt's ears and pulls him in. The place where Frank's scent remains hours after Frank is gone. The place where Matt will go and sit when he cannot sleep, to feel Frank's arms around him again.
It's the spot on the pillow where Frank's head rests when he's sleeping, where his warmth still lingers in the morning when Matt wakes up to an empty bed, Frank gone God knows where to do God knows what. The spot where Frank's head will rest again tonight, if Matt is lucky enough.
It's the cushion on the couch where Matt sits with Frank's head in his lap, delicately tracing the lines of his face with his fingertips, reading the lines and creases like they were Braille, memorising Frank's smile, the shape of his nose, the length of his lashes, playing with Frank's hair. Frank is letting it grow out a little since Matt told him he likes to play with his curls, but will never admit it.
It's the spot on the living room floor where they made love last night, where Matt can still smell their mixed scents, where he can almost taste Frank's skin, almost feel Frank's hands on his body, almost hear his voice whispering in his ear.
It's the chair in the bedroom where Frank forgets his t-shirt when he gets dressed and leaves in the dead of night, so he has an excuse to come back, to find Matt curled in bed the next night wearing it because it feels like Frank is in bed beside him and it helps him fall asleep.
It's the kitchen counter where they have spent countless nights perched on the stools, trying to understand this thing between them, trying to pull it apart, to find a sense, a purpose in it, besides the sheer need to be close to someone else who could understand the pain, that could share it and help carry the burden.
It's the spot under the living room doorframe where they exchanged their first kiss, like two drunk high schoolers under some mistletoe, and equally embarrassed; the spot where Frank's shirt hit the ground and Matt could finally feel his skin under his fingers for the first time, surprised that it felt exactly like he had imagined a thousand times before then, in his lonely nights.
The special place in Matt's Murdock's house is just outside the main door, right now, when he hears the familiar sound of Frank's footsteps stop on the threshold, he hears the knob turn, and Frank's voice softly calling his name.