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I’m sorry sweetheart, I have to cancel tonight. It’s not a good time.
Matt rarely sent you text messages. It wasn’t his style. According to him, calling you instead meant that he could hear the sound of your voice, which he claimed to be one of his favourite sounds. So, when you received the message, some part of you did worry. Was he okay? You knew he was busy, that he had his whole double life to deal with. He cared, a lot, maybe too much, about everything.
Before he told you, every possible nightmare scenario came to your mind. That he was seeing someone else, that he was part of some gang, that he had an addiction problem… Anything you could think of became a possibility. He would be gone for days, never telling you where he was. That was until he told you the truth, that he was Daredevil. It didn’t help you not worry about him, but at least you knew everything he did, everytime he came home late, it was for a good cause.
In a way, you were lucky he had canceled your night with a message like this. If he had called you, it would have been impossible to lie and pretend that everything was okay, that you didn’t mind, that you weren’t worried sick.
It’s fine. See you tomorrow. I love you.
No reply. You knew he was probably busy with something important. Something that would always come before you.
The next morning, you still had no reply. You half hoped he would have come to your apartment after his night. It wouldn’t have been the first time he did. He would get in, usually through the window not to be seen in your apartment building in his suit, beaten up and hurt, careful to make little to no sound. Most times he would just come to bed as soon as he was sure his blood wouldn’t stain the sheets, holding you to him. At first, he would always wake you as soon as he stumbled in the bedroom, but with time you got used to it. You would wake up the next morning, his arms around you, holding you close.
But not this time. With every day passing, you became even more worried. At the end of the second day without any news of your boyfriend, it was Foggy that called you, giving you some news about him. “Matt is fine. He got hurt in a fight, but he’s alive.” You begged him to tell you where you could find him, but he was a loyal man and never would have told you something Matt didn’t want to. He was alive and you would see him soon, that’s all that mattered. The third day, you wondered if maybe Foggy lied about Matt’s well being. Why wouldn’t he at least call you? What was going on? On the fourth day, you couldn’t even leave your bed. Your worry was becoming unbearable. You couldn’t just keep going on as if everything was fine when Matt was maybe missing.
It’s in the middle of that night that he showed up at your doorstep. Matt knew something was wrong before he even entered the apartment. Something inside of him knew. If it wasn’t from the fact that he could hear your heartbeat, in the silence of your apartment, he would have sworn something horrible had happened. Even if he at least knew you were alive, and unharmed physically speaking, he was worried sick. He had to stop himself, keeping himself from forcing the door open. He had a key and he didn’t want to wake you up.
You were asleep, not on your usual side of the bed, but on the side where he would lay when he spent the night. Standing in the doorframe, he focused on everything he could, analyzing every single detail. He listened to the steady beating of your heart. He could feel your familiar smell enveloping him, a mix of your vanilla lotion, your coconut shampoo and your detergent. Other than this, something was missing, he just knew it.
So, he kept trying to find what it was. All his focus was on you, the rest of the world slowly fading in the background. You were holding onto something, tight. It took him a moment to realize it was one of his shirts. That’s when he understood something. You had been crying. And, with that, he knew he had fucked up.
He should have at least called. He wasn’t supposed to be that guy anymore, the one who disappeared for days and left his loved one hanging, thinking he was dead. He had learned it the hard way. He needed his friends. He needed you. But he had been so scared that something could happen to you. He wasn’t in any shape or form to fight if anyone came after you. So, he didn’t call, didn’t see you, for days. He would need to make it up to you. Starting now.
Usually, he would simply get into bed, hold you close to him and watch you sleep until the morning. But not tonight. Slowly, he reached for you, caressing your cheek. He dropped a kiss on the top of your head, the tip of your nose and finally your lips. When your eyes finally fluttered open to meet his face, you gasped, instantly wrapping your arms around him. You stayed silent as he rubbed your back for a long time, until he felt tears crash on his shirt.
“Hey,” he said softly. He let go of the embrace, his hands coming to hold your face. Had he missed anything? Something that would show you weren’t fine? “What’s wrong sweetheart? Did something happen?”
“Four days Matthew,” you sobbed, shaking your head. “You didn’t call, nothing, for four days.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” His head hanged low, ashamed, not daring to face you.
“If it wasn’t for the fact that Foggy had the decency to call me, to make sure I knew you were still alive, I would’ve thought you were dead.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. It took you some time to stop your tears. He kept holding your face, his thumb slowly moving against your jaw. He wiped away your tears as he felt them drop on your cheeks. Once you were finally a bit calmer, you finally looked at him. Even in the darkness of the night, you could see how beaten he looked. His face was bruised, his lips had a cut and he had stitches on his forehead.
“Matt, your face,” you gasped.
“Don’t worry, I’m fine–”
“Don’t you dare try that with me Matthew,” you stopped him, your anger still present. “You’re the first one being worried sick when there’s anything going on. You’re ready to jump in any fight if anything happens to Karen, Foggy or me. I’m gonna worry about you anyway, so let me take care of you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“And stop apologizing!”
“You’re not gonna go easy on me, are you?”
“You were gone for four days. You’re lucky it’s only that and I’m not kicking you out right now.” You couldn’t have, even if you wanted to and he knew that. Even through your anger and your hurt, you couldn’t help but care about him deeply. “Now, do you have any wounds? And don’t lie to me Murdock.”
“Nothing serious anymore. Nothing bleeding right now.” You seemed to be satisfied with that answer. You looked closely at his face, fingers brushing over the small cuts and bruises. “I love you so much,” he said, a smile drawing on his lips.
“You have serious issues if that’s the thing you’re thinking about when I’m yelling at you.”
“You’re beautiful when you’re angry.”
“And how would you know that?” you asked, unable to contain your smile.
“Well, you’re always beautiful, I just know that. But when you’re angry, your voice changes a little bit, becoming a bit higher. Your skin becomes warmer. Your heart beats faster, louder, and it’s the only thing I can hear. Your heartbeat is one of my favourite sounds, you know.”
“Okay Romeo, you made your point,” you said, rolling your eyes. “I love you too, you know. That’s why I’m mad at you,” you sighed. That’s also why you knew you wouldn’t be able to stay mad very long, no matter how hard you tried. “Those four days were hell. Please don’t do this again. I missed you and I felt like my whole world was crumbling down. I seriously thought Foggy had lied, to stop me from worrying, and that you weren’t okay.”
“I didn’t want to worry you with the shape I was in,” he confessed after a moment. “And I wanted to protect you. I was in a really bad shape that other night and they were still following me. I knew it would put you in danger and I knew I wasn’t in any shape to protect you if they came after you. I couldn’t risk it. I would go crazy, if anything happened to you.”
“Then you know how I felt,” you said in return and that’s what hurt him the most.
“I can’t promise to never do this again, but I’ll try to always call you if anything happens,” he said, his eyes full of sadness. “I’ll make it up to you. You’re important to me and I know I need to do better. I should treat you better. You deserve so much more than this, more than me.”
“Stop this. You’re enough Matt. More than enough.” You knew that, even if he believed you when you told him things like this, he always had a hard time accepting it. That may have been part of why you loved him. Even if he was one of the best men you knew, he didn’t always believe that. If you could have travelled back in time to change his past and change everything that made him doubt who he was today, you would have in a heartbeat. Sadly, all you could do was to love him, cherish him and show him all the positive things you saw in him. “Now get in bed, please. I need to hold you.”
“Yes boss,” he said jokingly. As you moved back to your side of the bed, he joined you under the covers. You got close to him, his warmth finally making you feel a little bit better. You laid your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. He was fine. He was with you. That’s all that mattered now. “I love you,” he said, his voice low, kissing the top of your head.
“I love you too Matt.”
He didn’t sleep that much that night. Every single movement you made would make him alert, as if you were about to run away from him. You would never, he knew that, but he couldn’t ignore this fear. In the morning, you woke up alone in the bed. You thought for a moment that he had left before you were up, but some sound in the kitchen told you otherwise. You left the bed, dragging yourself to the kitchen, where he was preparing breakfast. “Good morning,” he greeted you, dropping a kiss on your cheek.
“Morning,” you mumbled with a smile, still barely awake. Matt served you a cup of coffee, prepared just the way you liked it, before going back to preparing the breakfast.
“You’re still mad at me.” It’s not a question, it’s more of an observation. Because you are, deep inside of you, still a little bit angry. Not enough to yell at him, not enough to affect the way you act around him. Just enough to change little details that he of course noticed. Like the fact you weren’t as affectionate as you would usually be or the fact that you drank your coffee in silence. “Talk to me. Please.”
“I don’t know what to say Matt,” you sighed. “It’s complicated.” You realized after a moment you could have said it in another way. You realized it a bit too late. You see him tensed up a little. You may not have his abilities and the capacity to hear every little change in him, but you know he is starting to panic. “That’s not– I–” You can’t seem to find the right words.
“I promise I’ll do better. Please, don’t–” You could feel he was hurting. So, you got up and got to him. You took his face in your hands, looking at him.
“I know, baby. That’s not the way I wanted to say this. Let me start over,” you said, with a small smile. “Yes, I’m still mad. But it’s not worth talking about it anymore. I don’t want to keep fighting about this. You’re here now. You’re with me. And I love you. That’s all that matters.”
“Don’t leave me,” he said anyway.
“Never. I’m here to stay, as long as you want me. And even then, I’m worse than cockroaches. You won’t get rid of that easily,” you tried to reassure him with your jokes. “I’m not going to go away just because I’m angry at you. I want to be here for you all the time. You just need to let me be there.”
“I’ll try,” he promised, his voice low.
“That’s all I need. And we’re gonna be okay,” you promised in return. He kissed your forehead, leaving his lips pressed on it an extra second.
“Pancakes?”
“Sounds delicious,” you agreed.