Foggy had lost track of the questions he threw at Matt, whether he was repeating himself or just letting out a string of questionable choice words or both, when he realized Matt hadn't spoken the last couple of minutes. In fact, he wasn't saying anything at all. When had that happened?
"Are you even listening to me?" Foggy snapped.
Matt didn't even flinch. It was like his focus was elsewhere. His eyes were glazed over (and Foggy still didn't know how the sorta-not-really blind thing even worked for Matt, whatever the fuck the world on fire was supposed to mean), and he was just…frozen.
Foggy swore again and was about to let loose another stream of choice words at Matt, a "what the fuck is wrong with you" (aside from everything else, Matt couldn't just tune out of an argument just because he wanted to!) when a horrible sinking feeling hit him. He had only seen Matt shut down like this once before, and it was after everything with Elektra.
Foggy still didn't have the whole story on their explosive breakup (he tucked that away in his mind for later), but he knew there was more to the story than just a terrible breakup. Matt had stalked through the door around midnight or so, looking for all the world like someone had kicked his favorite puppy. He was slow to move, to do anything. When he finally sat in bed, taking off his glasses mechanically, Foggy saw it in his eyes. It wasn't Matt's far away unfocused stare he had because of his lack of light perception; it looked like someone had just died, someone he was close to, and he was still processing what had happened—or not processing at all. The only person Foggy knew Matt had lost on a personal leek had been his dad, and if he had looked like that after a breakup, what sort of fucked-up shit had gone down that day?
Matt had eventually snapped out of whatever stupor he'd been in, but it wasn't an instantaneous thing. It had lasted for weeks. When Matt was finally out of the thick of it, Foggy hoped he'd never see that look, that aura, around his friend ever again.
But now he was seeing it all over again, and Foggy knew with a horrible certainty that it was because of him. Matt was the last person to back out of arguments—it was one of the things that made him a great lawyer—so the fact that he was now meant he had given up. And that had so many horrifying implications it made Foggy's head spin with nausea.
Slowly, as if he was approaching a wild animal, Foggy crept into Matt's space. The man still didn't move or give any indication that he heard (smelled? tasted?) Foggy's presence. He hesitated, then brought a hand to sit lightly on Matt's shoulder.
Matt flinched as if he hadn't heard Foggy coming, which, considering Matt could hear people's freaking heartbeats, really meant he was out of it. That was all kinds of bad.
"Matt?" There was no need to whisper, except this felt like a very fragile moment and Foggy was afraid talking at even normal human volume would shatter the spell.
Matt titled his head in Foggy's direction as if he heard him, but he still had that faraway look.
"You here with me, buddy?"
And okay, Foggy had spent the last twenty-four hours reevaluating everything he knew about Matt and their friendship, but the old moniker slipped out of his mouth without his permission. It was instinctual, even now.
Apparently, that was what was needed to break the spell, though, because Matt lost the faraway look that was even more far than usual for someone whose eyes didn't work (because Matt was still blind, even though Foggy had no idea how he did anything even after Matt's hastened explanations).
"What?" Matt's voice sounded weird. Small.
"You zoned out on me for a minute," Foggy said.
"Sorry, I—" Matt shook his head, looking frustrated with himself. "Sorry."
This was a mess. This whole situation was a mess, and that was putting it lightly.
Foggy heaved what felt like the tenth sigh that day. "Look, Matt, there's so much shit we need to sort out—and probably several therapy sessions we should schedule for the future—but I need to know one thing." It was the question he dreaded the most but the one he needed answered the most.
Matt made some sort of gesture that looked like a nod, which made sense given the beating he took. Foggy tried to steady his breathing before he spoke.
"Before you passed out earlier, I asked you something." When Matt made no comment or looked like he remembered what Foggy was referring to, he pressed on. "With all the lying and sneaking around, I have to know…was anything between us ever real?"
It hurt worse the second time he asked.
"Foggy…" Matt looked like someone had just stabbed him, again, and his eyes were suspiciously wet. "How—why—do you even need to ask that?"
"I think I do." Foggy knew Matt couldn't see him but he turned around anyway, willing away the wetness in his eyes.
Matt let out a sound that sounded close to a sob. "Of course it was real." He sounded absolutely wrecked. "I—Foggy, you're the most important person in my life. I didn't think I could have a family after my dad—" Foggy had to turn away at this, his chest tightening, "but you've been my family for so long. I…I don't know what I'd do without you." The last words came out wobbly.
Foggy swiped angrily at his cheeks. There had already been too much crying today. "Then why lie to me, Matt, about something like this?"
"I couldn't tell you." Matt's voice was shaking. "What I do, it's dangerous. I never wanted to put you in this situation."
"But that's the thing, Matt, you already have!" The anger rose back in Foggy's chest but it did nothing to stop the tears. "Did you ever stop to think what would happen if you went to jail, or worse? You really think that anyone would believe that I didn't know what you were doing? That Karen didn't know?"
Matt's face crumpled. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you or Karen. But I can't stop." There was a plea in his voice, and Matt never pleaded. "I can't just do nothing while Fisk is out there, while others are out there. And I know you hate this, you hate me now, and I never wanted you to see it—I know you hate it—but I can't stop."
All the oxygen left Foggy's brain. "What?"
"I know you hate this—" Matt started again, but Foggy cut him off.
"No, you said I hate you, Matt." He kneeled down, knees hitting the ground so he was level with Matt at the couch. "I meant what I said earlier, Matt; I don't hate you." He never could hate Matt, even if he wanted to.
"Maybe you should." The words were so quiet Foggy wouldn't have heard them if he hadn't been so close to Matt.
"Why would you say that?"
"I'm not a safe person to be around, Foggy." Matt said this like it was a fact. "I know I'm dangerous. I know I hurt people and I shouldn't like it, but I do. My grandmother…she used to say 'Be careful of the Murdock boys; they'd got the Devil in them'—"
"Your grandma said that to you?" Foggy gasped.
"She wasn't wrong," Matt said bitterly. "You've seen what I've done. My dad, he never wanted me to be like this, he wanted me to be better than him. And I tried, I tried so hard, but I couldn't, I can't—" Matt let out another broken-off sob. "I'm so angry, Foggy, all the time. The rage…it consumes me, and I can't turn it off. It turns me into a different person, a dangerous person. Someone who could hurt you."
Matt was full on crying now, and Foggy couldn't take it anymore. He placed a hand on top of Matt's; the man made a startling noise but didn't pull back.
"Matt…" This was so fucked up, even more fucked up than his previous knowledge of Matt's fucked up childhood (and God, there was probably more shit he didn't even know about). "I'll say this as many times as I need to, but I don't hate you, okay? I could never hate you. I love you too much."
Matt seemed to sob even harder at that. "Foggy—"
"No. Listen to me, okay? Everybody gets angry, Matt. You saw how I was earlier today."
Matt shook his head. "It's not the same—"
"Just let me finish, okay?" he interrupted. "Look, just because I don't…direct my anger at drug lords and muggers doesn't mean I don't get angry. I get pissed off, a lot. I'm angry at Fisk, I'm angry at what happened to Elena, I'm angry with you, and…I'm angry that someone almost killed you."
Matt made a sound of surprise, but Foggy wasn't done. He was getting a clearer picture now, and he needed to finish this
"From what Claire told me last night, I think you have a lot of reasons to be angry, buddy." He let out a chuckle, but it was weak. "You've seen kidnapped kids and human trafficking and attempted murders and rapists." He let out a long sigh. "If I saw what you had to add every day, I would probably want to punch people too. Not in a dumb costume, and I can't throw a punch to save my life, but you get the sentiment."
"You're…you're not mad?"
Foggy sighed. "I'm still mad, Matt. I doubt I won't not be mad for a while. But I'm also still worried about you. And…I hate that you feel like you couldn't have told me any of this."
"It's not your fault. "I'm not used to having friends. No one's really stayed around long enough, and I thought…"
Foggy felt like someone punched him in the gut. "Hey, I'm not leaving you, Matt," he said quickly, "I promise."
Matt stilled for a second, head titled as if he was listening for something. "You're not lying," he said. He sounded surprised.
Foggy let out a laugh and a sob. "Of course I'm not. you idiot. You're stuck with me." He paused, taking a moment to stand up straight. "All right, I think we've had enough heart-to-heart talks and crying for today, I'm tired AF, and you still look like hell. I already told Karen we were taking a sick day, so rest should be the only thing on our calendars today."
Matt's eyebrows shot up. "You talked to Karen?"
"She asked why we weren't in the office. I didn't tell her anything," Foggy added quickly, and immediately saw Matt relax. He sighed again. He really hated the idea of lying to Karen, and he didn't want this to be an occurrence, but clearly Matt had trust issues wrapped in abandonment issues wrapped in whatever fucked up trauma he'd been through. Foggy would bring it up again—Karen was their friend, she didn't deserve to be lied to or held in the dark—but now wasn't the time.
Besides, Matt's silk sheets were calling him. (He wondered if that had something to do with his heightened senses.) He started to head back toward Matt's room when Matt's quiet voice spoke up again.
"Thank you," Matt sounded so earnest it made Foggy want to cry. Instead, he gave Matt's shoulder a slight squeeze before heading off.
But Matt's voice followed him, suddenly tense. "Where are you going?"
It hit Foggy like a truck: still, after all this, Matt still thought he was leaving. Stopping, he turned around to see Matt's sightless eyes staring anxiously his direction. "Just to the other room to sleep."
Matt's eyes darted downwards. "Oh. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry," Foggy said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."