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Matt understood grief, loss, and violence. But he never felt like he could quite comfort someone who experienced those things. The law and his fists were all he had to offer.
"You don't need to be here," Frank's voice was even and emotionally void.
He knew that. It was difficult to say the words, but it was a hard day for him too. The day was a reminder of how little time he got with his dad. How if he led a normal life, he could have planned dinners and ball games with him. He wished his memories of the Father's Days they spent together were clearer. But it was such a long time ago.
It left him with a void in his heart.
"It's a day of what-ifs and could-have-beens for me too," Matt said. The touch of rawness in his voice surprised him.
"Hm."
He immediately felt guilty. Frank certainly lost more than he did. Words rushed out apologetically, "I'm sorry. I know losing my dad wasn't the same as-"
Frank cut him off, "Don't apologize. I didn't expect my kids to die before me and you didn't expect your dad to die when you were a kid."
Matt whispered, "Yeah." He felt like Frank's couch was going to swallow him. Sitting together on Father's Day had gone on for a few years now. This was the most they'd ever spoken on this painful holiday. The first year he had tracked Frank down to put a stop to his usual bloody activities. But Frank wouldn't engage him. And then it clicked what day it was. His desire to fight faded rapidly.
He nearly jumped when Frank reached over and held his hand. There was something strange about finding comfort in a hand that had caused so much violence. Maybe he had been trying to comfort Frank wrong. Maybe words weren't what either one needed. He gently squeezed Frank's hand.
The ache and pain of loss were still there. But it felt much more bearable with someone who understood.
"Thank you," Matt said.
"For?"
"Letting me stay."
Frank hummed in acknowledgment. His thumb rubbed the back of Matt's hand. They fell into a comfortable silence in Frank's safe house. Their ideals would hold a truce for the remainder of the day. Mourning their dead was more important than fighting.
Matt felt exhaustion creeping in on him. It wasn't particularly late. But dwelling on the past was draining. He listened to the steady beat of Frank's heart.
He started to nod off but became alert when Frank moved closer. His arm wrapped around Matt's shoulders. Matt let the warmth and comfort shroud him.
He hated how everything was so complicated between them. They shared a never-ending dance, unable to find common moral ground. Neither was willing to stop. Still, somehow they cared for each other in an unconventional capacity.
At least for the next couple of hours, their reprieve would last. He could fall asleep with his cheek resting on Frank's shoulder. Tomorrow they could go back to trading bruises.