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It’s not that he doesn’t trust Foggy.
No, nothing like that at all.
See, Matt’s been…like this…since he was nine, and through all that time, he’s only ever told one person about his abilities—Stick.
And, well. To say the least, that whole situation had mostly been a disaster. He says “mostly” instead of “entirely” because some of that training is about to pay off. Right now, actually.
“You’re kidding,” Matt says with a laugh, shoving Foggy with one hand.
Foggy stumbles to the side, having drank for a bit longer than Matt tonight, and says, “Honest to god! It just flew right off. Opening night of the show. I’ll never forget it.”
Matt dissolves into snorting laughter picturing the imagery of the scene. He opens his mouth to say something, but the smile freezes on his face when he hears movement and a racing heartbeat from the corner they’re about to pass. He reaches an arm out towards Foggy, but before he can do anything to change their course, the person steps out in front of them.
“Oh,” Foggy says, even though his heart jumps. “Excuse us.”
“Wallets,” the man says, and he wipes his sleeve across his nose, sniffling, as he continues, “give me your fucking wallets. Now!”
Fumbling in his pocket, Foggy stutters, “Okay, sure, no problem at all, let me just… Here you are.”
The man leaps forward to snatch it out of Foggy’s hand then turns to Matt.
“You next, blind boy,” he says, and Matt grinds his teeth.
“Oh, I don’t have mine on me,” Matt says, throwing his free hand up in mock fear. He’s not just being difficult, though; Foggy said he had drinks tonight, so he left it on his desk at the dorm.
“Come on, man,” the guy says, heart still pounding, and Matt can hear the ruffle of him reaching into his coat pocket. “Don’t make this difficult…”
Then, in an instant, three things happen:
The man reveals his knife, holding it out in front of him.
Foggy gasps in a startled breath, saying, “Matt, he’s—”
And Matt drops his cane, pulling his arms up into an automatic defensive guard. He circles his left foot up, smacking the knife out of the man’s hand with the inside of his foot. Then he lands forward, and he uses the momentum to twist his body sideways, snapping his right leg out to connect the top part of his foot with the side of the man’s head.
Their mugger goes down, landing sideways on the ground, dazed.
With his opponent on the ground, Matt takes the upper hand, standing between the mugger and the knife and holding out his hand, commanding, “Wallet.”
The man hesitates, so Matt fakes a step forward to intimidate, and the mugger draws in a breath, reaching back into his coat pocket and pulling it out, tossing it towards them while saying, “Take it, just—fuck!” And he scatters backwards until he pulls himself back up, taking his leave back down the street he came from.
Matt lets out a breath, relieved that his guess was right; that this guy is a newbie. He listens out for a moment, but finding nobody else on the street, he releases the tension in his shoulders.
Foggy’s still in shock, so Matt brushes his leg out, feeling along the ground for either the wallet or his cane. After a couple seconds of this, Foggy breaks out of his stupor, saying: “Here, let me…” He bends down and picks up Matt’s cane, and Matt holds out his hand for it, accepting it with a nod.
Matt finds Foggy’s wallet with his cane at the same moment Foggy bends down to collect it.
After pocketing it, Foggy stands there for a moment, and Matt thinks he’s staring at him. Foggy says, the adrenaline and fear shaking his voice, “Matt, what just happened?”
Matt cringes. “Let’s just get home.”
Foggy takes a breath like he wants to say more, but nothing is spoken, and they walk the rest of the way back to the dorm in silence.
When they get there, Foggy locks the door behind them as Matt flops down into bed with a groan. He spent the entire walk home freaking out over what he’s going to tell Foggy and he still has nothing.
“So,” Foggy starts, his crummy Columbia mattress groaning as he sits down on the edge of it. “Those were some interesting ninja skills back there.”
Matt fakes a laugh. “My dad was a boxer.”
“Oh, your dad was a kick-boxer?”
“No,” Matt admits. “A regular boxer.”
“Interesting,” Foggy says. Serious-toned, he starts, “Matt—”
But Matt cuts him off, saying, “Foggy, we’re both a little drunk and I’m tired. Let’s talk about it in the morning.”
Somehow, Foggy agrees.
Matt’s pretty sure he doesn’t get any sleep at all that night, and he makes sure he’s out the door for his first class before Foggy wakes up.
————————
Matt spends a grand part of the day avoiding Foggy and anything Foggy-related. This means skipping out on breakfast and lunch, “just in case”, and showing up to their shared Administrative Law class with just enough time to get to his seat, locking out any chance of conversation. And with Foggy having to get to Punjabi just a few minutes later, Matt knows he’s in the clear for the next few hours.
He stops back at the dorm to snag some study materials then spends a couple of hours in the library, typing up outlines on the next chapters of his textbooks. Not sure how long he’s willing to—or able to, for that matter—stall, he zones into his work, trying to dwell only on his notes as opposed to ruminating over the looming conversation.
Eventually, he hears Foggy enter the library, and Matt takes out one earbud as he waits, knowing that it’s just a matter of time before he’s caught.
“A matter of time” being about a minute and a half.
“So, this is where you’ve been hiding,” Foggy whispers, pulling out the chair across from Matt and plopping down. “Mind if I join you?”
Matt gestures to where Foggy’s sitting with one hand. “I could never mind you, friend,” he says, and it’s true, but it’s also a lie because having Foggy in proximity makes Matt’s heart beat faster and chest tighten tonight.
Foggy unzips his backpack, lying his own textbook and notebook out onto the table.
They work in silence for a couple of minutes before Foggy speaks up, and Matt pauses his screen-reader.
“You’re avoiding me today.”
“I’m studying.”
“In order to avoid me.”
Matt huffs a laugh, pointing out, “I study every day.”
“Do you skip meals every day, too?” When Matt opens his mouth to deny it, Foggy continues, “Don’t lie to me. Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you’re making this out to be a bigger deal than it needs to be.”
A fellow student shushes them from a couple tables down, and Matt rolls his eyes while Foggy just holds up a hand to the guy.
Quieter, Foggy says, “I genuinely don’t get what’s so serious about this, and I don’t really care, but it’s about the principle of it; I don’t hide things from you, Matt.”
Matt’s face burns red. He knows Foggy doesn’t hide things from him. “Fogs,” he starts, but the guy shushes them again.
“Yeah, whatever,” Foggy says to him, perhaps a bit louder than necessary. Back to Matt, and back to a whispering volume, he says, “I’ll be at the dorm. Let me know when you decide our friendship is worth this.”
Then he collects his things in his arms and leaves Matt blinking, mouth parted.
When he’s sure Foggy isn’t looking, Matt pulls his glasses off and buries his face in his hands. He brushes at his eyes, letting out a sigh.
Then he puts his earbud in.
And he gets back to work.
————————
When he gets back to the dorm about an hour later, he greets Foggy with a simple “Hey.”
“Hi, Matt,” Foggy replies, sounding distracted as he scrolls his computer mouse. “There’s chicken and rice from the cafeteria on your desk. In case you’re hungry.”
Matt’s starving. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, well, that’s what friends are for,” Foggy says pointedly.
Matt sighs. “About last night…”
“If you’re about to make up some lie, go ahead and save it,” Foggy interrupts. “Don’t lie to my face, Matt. Just don’t.”
“I…” wasn’t going to lie , is what Matt wants to say. But that would be a lie, wouldn’t it? He switches tracks, pulling out his desk chair and sitting down. He feels for the Styrofoam box then pulls it closer, snagging the plastic fork from on top and turning it in one hand. “I...”
He takes a moment to just think about the situation. He thinks about his relationship with Foggy, thinks about how he trusts Foggy with his life.
Why not with this?
What’s stopping Matt from telling him these base facts about his life?
After considering possible arguments, Matt realizes that he doesn’t really have any sound, inarguable reason not to tell him.
There’s nothing more he can do, he tells himself. Foggy is asking for the truth. It’s up to him whether he believes it or not, whether he decides to stay with Matt or not.
Matt takes a bite of his rice. After swallowing it, he pushes the box back away from him, not turning to Foggy as he says, “I want to talk to you.”
“About last night?” Foggy asks to confirm.
Matt nods. “Yeah. It’s about last night.”
He hears Foggy close his laptop and push it to the side. After a moment of quiet, he says, “Whenever you’re ready, buddy.”
Nodding, Matt takes off his glasses with one hand, rubbing his eyes with the other.
“This is fucked up,” Matt says to lead, because it’s the only place he can think to start. “This whole thing…”
Foggy’s breathing changes twice. Finally, he says with a half-laugh, “You—you are actually blind, right?”
Matt hesitates, and Foggy scrambles to the edge of his bed. “What the—you—”
“No,” Matt interrupts, “I’m blind. I can’t see anything.”
Foggy laughs, a sharp exhale of breath through his mouth. “Then why’d you—”
“It’s complicated—”
“How is it complicated? Matt. Are. You. Blind. It’s a yes or no question.”
“I—yes. I’m blind; I can’t see anything. It’s—look, this what I’m about to tell you is going to sound completely insane.”
Foggy throws up his hands. “I’m listening!”
Matt scrubs a hand over his face, standing up to pace along his bed. After a couple times walking back and forth, he stops, turning to Foggy to say: “The accident, the one that blinded me? It did something to me, Foggy.”
“You got superpowers,” Foggy guesses, and Matt nods. There’s silence for a moment. “Wait, you’re serious?” Foggy laughs. “You’re right, I don’t believe you.”
“Not superpowers, but—abilities. I can’t see anymore, that much is true. But my other senses, they’re good. Like, really good .”
Foggy lets out a breath. “Look, I don’t know much about blindness,” he says, “but I’ve heard when you lose one sense, the others get better to make up for it.”
“Misconception,” Matt finds himself explaining without thought. He waves a hand, sitting on the edge of his bed facing Foggy as he says, “Anyway, this isn’t like that. Foggy, my hearing… I hear things no regular person should be able to. Smell and taste, too.”
Sighing, Foggy says, “Matt, I don’t know what to say. I still think you’re blowing this out of proportion.”
Matt laughs. He laughs even though it isn’t funny, and before he knows it, he’s pacing again, hands brushing through his hair and pulling. “I’m not. God, I wish I were, but I’m not. It was right after the accident. The chemicals on the truck, they got into my eyes and blinded me, but when I woke up in the hospital, I could hear the nurses’ heartbeats. I could smell the bodies in the morgue.”
“Jesus.”
“And I only ever told one person, but I’ve lived with this ever since. I just—I just know things, Fogs. Like—I didn’t have lunch with you today. You know that.”
“You were avoiding me.”
“You’re right; I was avoiding you,” Matt admits, and now that he’s started talking, the words spill out like a broken faucet. “But I know that you ate a turkey sandwich and a piece of chocolate cake.”
Foggy pulls in a quick breath, heartbeat speeding up. “Who told you—”
“That’s the thing! Nobody told me! Foggy, I just know!”
“What do you mean you ‘just know’?”
“I can smell it on you. You probably had lunch with Marci, or at least spent some time talking to her; I can smell her perfume on you, too.”
“So let’s say I believe you,” Foggy starts, “which, it’s really hard to say that I do.”
“I know it sounds crazy.”
Foggy continues, “Why keep it a secret? Why not tell the government so they can do something?”
“Do what?” Matt asks, laughing. “Lock me up in the looney-bin and throw away the key? Experiment on me? No, thanks. Like I said, I only ever told one other person, and they always said I should keep it a secret.”
“Your dad?” Foggy asks, and this is where Matt cringes, realizing what he has to say next.
“No, it was… You’re definitely not going to believe me now.”
He sits down on the floor in front of the bed, head tilted up towards the ceiling as he continues, “It was an old guy named ‘Stick’. He’s the one who taught me to fight, too.”
Foggy’s quiet. For long enough that Matt starts to open his mouth to talk again before Foggy finally pipes up, “So just to make sure I have the story straight.”
Matt nods as if to say “go on”.
Foggy stands up and moves to sit on the floor a couple feet in front of Matt as he says, “You have super-senses from the chemical accident that left you blind, and you were trained in the mystic ways of Kung Fu by an old man whose name was ‘Stick’.”
“Yes. More or less.”
He thinks that Foggy nods. “Right,” he says. “Okay. Okay. I almost believe you. Let me just do one quick test.”
“Alright?” Matt says, and he moves to stand up when Foggy does, but Foggy says:
“Stay where you are. I’m going to walk down the hall and say something. According to your story, you should be able to hear me, right?”
“Whisper it,” Matt insists. “I’ll hear you.”
“Jesus Christ, Murdock,” Foggy says under his breath. Then, louder, “Okay. Be right back.”
Matt listens as he walks out the door, shutting it behind him, then down the hall. He makes it all the way to the stairs before he says, voice pitched just barely above a whisper: “You gotta be fucking kidding me.” He stays there for a moment before walking back to the room.
When he gets back, Matt just smiles at him and says, “I’m not kidding you. I swear, I’m telling you the truth right now.”
“What did I say,” Foggy demands.
“You said ‘you gotta be fucking kidding me’,” Matt repeats. “I’m not.”
“Holy shit,” Foggy says, and this time he’s the one who’s pacing. “Holy shit. My best friend has superpowers.”
Matt feels himself laugh, loosening the tension all throughout him just a little at both the acceptance and Foggy still referring to him as his best friend. “Well, I wouldn’t call them ‘superpowers’,” he says.
“Right, of course you wouldn’t. Doesn’t mean that’s not what they are. Fuck, what the hell? You said you can hear heartbeats ?”
Matt nods. “Mine, yours. Brent from down the hall.”
“Fuck, that far? No offense, but how the hell do you live like this?”
Laughing, perhaps some part relieved that this isn’t his burden alone anymore, Matt says, “It’s difficult. But I can handle it.”
Foggy shakes his head, hair rustling his shirt, then says again, “Holy shit.”
“I know, right?”
They’re quiet for a moment, and Foggy finally stops his pacing and sits back down in front of Matt.
“Wow,” he says. “Just… Well. Thanks for telling me, buddy. Any other major life secrets you want to get out?”
Matt winces. “No. That’s everything. Swear.”
“Right. Well, shit. Drinks on me?”
Barking a laugh, Matt says, “Drinks already? After what happened last night?”
Foggy throws his hands up in the air, and Matt thinks he’s smiling as he says, “Apparently my best friend’s a blind ninja. Suddenly, I’m not so spooked anymore.”
Rolling his eyes at the “ninja” bit, Matt can’t help his laugh. “Alright, but I’ll buy tonight. Just… Thank you, Foggy. For understanding.”
“’Understanding’ is a bit of a strong word here. Maybe you can tell me a bit more about how these powers of yours work on the way?”
Matt stands up with a laugh. “I’ll do my best. Let me finish this food first, though. You were right; I’m starved.”
As they walk side-by-side, Foggy still guiding Matt after a more vivid description of how Matt uses echolocation to gauge his surroundings, Matt can’t quite tell how he feels.
He’s anxious, that one’s easy. And he’s still in disbelief, both over himself having the nerve to tell and Foggy actually getting it. More than anything, he’s relieved.
It’s almost like he doesn’t have to do this by himself anymore.
It’s almost like he can be accepted for who he is.