"Matt, what did I do?" Foggy asked dejectedly. Matt turned abruptly at the sound of his best friend's voice. Former best friend, he reminded himself.
"What?" he wondered, surprised. Foggy hadn't spoken to him since... well, since that night.
"What did I do to convince you that you couldn't trust me?" His voice sounded cautious, even timid. Like he was afraid that in starting a conversation, Matt would reveal another dark secret, and betray him further. Matt gripped the office door's frame.
"Foggy, I do trust you. You're the only one I've ever trusted." His statement seemed empty, even as his emotion trembled behind it. Foggy's voice rose in volume as his anger grew.
"How can you say that?" he demanded. "After all your lies? How can I believe another word that comes out of your mouth?" It stung. Every word a slice to his chest. Part of him felt relieved that he could still feel the pain, he'd buried it so deep.
"There hasn't been a person that I have trusted more than you, Foggy," he replied quietly. "But I know I don't deserve for you to believe me."
"You're right, you don't." Foggy assured him. He took a deep breath and continued. "For years, I thought I knew everything there was to know about Matt Murdock. I knew his favorite foods, drinks, places. I knew how to take care of him when he was sick. I knew which days of the year I'd hear him crying himself to sleep. I knew when he needed a friend, but was too stubborn to ask. And he knew all these things about me, too." Foggy added softly. He paused, watching Matt for a reaction. "Then, this masked vigilante came out of the night. I knew nothing about him. No one knew anything about him. And I found out that this villain, this possible murderer was one and the same as my best friend. Suddenly, the man who I lived with, laughed with, and set out to save the goddamn world with became the man that I couldn't understand. The man I couldn't trust. But what did I do to show him he couldn't trust me?"
Tense silence settled in the room. Matt clenched his teeth together, straining to lock his tears behind his eyes.
"Foggy, it was never your fault," he choked out. "It's always been mine. It's me. I couldn't- I, I needed- I'm not- I-" Matt felt the pressure inside him grow. There was no longer room for thought, for sense. He couldn't make any sense. Sense of his words, sense of himself. He needed to get out. Matt stumbled stiffly towards the door. He couldn't concentrate on anything but the pain in his throat and behind his eyes. He groped the door's surface awkwardly before finding the knob and throwing himself through the exit.