(A/N): I definitely ran out of ideas for this one. I knew what I wanted for my for the fifth and my last chapter, but this one was on the fly. It's still connected loosely to the last two chapters.

Disclaimer: I own nothing from Daredevil.

God, Matt felt terrible. Although, 'terrible' seemed like an oversimplification.

"Man, you sound terrible Matt."

"Thanks, Foggy."

"No, seriously dude, is there a frog stuck in your throat or something?"

"I just need a sick day. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Fine, it's not like you take that many days off anyway."

"Foggy-"

"Seriously, it's fine. I hope you're better soon. Karen'll check up on you at night."

"Thanks, Foggy." Matt fumbled his fingers on the phone, disconnecting the call before throwing it on the nightstand. He cringed at the sound of the phone's case fall onto the floor, the sound slamming on the wooden ground before ringing through the bedroom as though thunder had clapped next to his ear. Groaning, Matt buried himself deeper in his blanket, covering his ears.

Matt inhaled deeply through his nose, only to find that both nostrils were blocked. He attempted to breathe again, reverberating a high-pitched squeal as air tried to squeeze in through his nose.

Head dizzy, Matt collapsed into his pillow, awkwardly breathing through his mouth like a fish trapped on land. His breath echoed through the quiet room, bouncing off walls and rippling like water through the air. He could hear sweat dripping onto his pillow and the crinkle of tissues as he rolled to his side. His mouth reeked of morning breath and the takeout he forgot to brush off last night before dropping dead on his bed.

I'm never eating those fish sandwiches again.

Stumbling to the bathroom, Matt hurriedly brushed his teeth before ripping off his sweaty button up and fumbling on a tank top and gym shorts. Throwing his old clothes on the ground, his head swirled, and the room danced around him. Walls started to fall in and he was beginning to see two dressers where there was only one. A slew of curses jumped from Matt's mouth.

I'm going to need to go to the confessional sooner than I thought.

Clutching the wall, Matt slowly made his way out of the stuffy bedroom to the kitchen. Cool air clung to his sweat-drenched skin, and a shiver ran down his spine. He felt tempted to run back into his warm wet bed.

Speaking of churchy stuff, Father Lantom would probably say, "You must deny your temptations and flee from the devil" or something. Seems like you're doing a pretty bad job already. Cause, you know… you're the devil. Haha, get it?

Matt didn't find his mind's half-hearted attempt at humor amusing.

He reached for a glass from the cabinet and got some water, ignoring the fact that most of it missed the cup and fell straight to the ground. Chugging it thirstily, Matt got more water and went to the sofa, collapsing on it as the room started to sway once more. His eyelids closed, his ears barely picking up the "Karen… Karen… Karen" from his phone before the darkness consumed him.

Consciousness slowly drifted to reality as Matt's eyes opened. It was darker outside, the sun beginning to set, and his limbs were sprawled on the couch with a heavy blanket covering him. Small clinks of metal and humming came from the kitchen, and his hearing, thankfully, was quieter.

"Karen?" Man, he did sound terrible.

"Matt! You're awake!" He could hear a smile dance on her face. "Welcome back Sleeping Beauty. I've made you some dinner."

Matt licked his lips. Meatloaf's overcooked, broccoli has too much salt, and, I don't know how she managed this, those noodles will probably kill you.

He smiled. "Thanks, Karen."

"Of course. Now, your temperature was at 103, if it goes any higher than that I'm dragging you to the hospital. I turned down the air conditioning- don't give me that look- and I'll be checking up on you in the mornings and evenings."

"Karen, I-"

"Less talking, more eating." She brought the dish to the couch and put it in Matt's hands. "I'll get you some water." Matt poked the food cautiously with the fork.

A small ding came from the kitchen. Karen put down the water and picked up her phone, taking a minute to scroll through… through…

You can't read text on the screen, you idiot.

"What is it?" Matt asked, thankful for a reason to put the food down.

Karen kept scrolling for a moment. "It's nothing, just something about the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Anyways, I have to go right now, I'm sure you need your rest-"

"Actually, I want to hear the news. About the Devil."

There was a pause. "It's really nothing, Matt…"

"Please."

Another pause. Karen sighed and searched her purse for her phone again, scrolling through the screen. "Just more info about him disappearing for almost two months. There are some rumors of him moving across neighborhoods and boroughs, asking questions about some ring, but nothing real yet. There are a bunch of quotes, too, about how some people are praying he'll come back, and some… you know."

"They hope he's rotting in hell?"

"Took the words right out of their mouths," she muttered. A silence rang between them as Matt stared at the couch and Karen ready to run through the door. "Look, I know how you feel about this guy, but it's not looking good. Him returning, I mean."

"Yeah, I got it. Thanks, Karen. For everything."

"I'm sorry, I really have to go."

"No problem. Thanks."

The door opened. "You already said that. Try to get more sleep, I'll be here in the morning."

The door closed, the slam echoing through the room. He clutched his ears again.

"I guess the others weren't cryin' loud 'nough."

"And let's pray he never comes back."

"They hope he's rotting in hell?" "Took the words right out of their mouths."

He sighed and flopped back on the couch covered in sweat, the cushions and wires creaking under his weight. The smell of his dinner overwhelmed the room. The words ripped through his brain, pounding on his skull in a rhythmic thunder.

God, I need to get out. He needed to leave the stuffy room haunted by the noise and words.

Grabbing his hoodie and black mask, he stumbled out of his home, hoping that the devil would forget everything that was tormenting Matt.

(A/N): That was the most I've written in a day for a while. Was Matt's weird delusional thinking too OOC? Anyways, criticism is welcome as usual.