Work Text:
One year: that is how long you have been in a relationship with Matt Murdock. Usually, in any other situation, it would not seem like a large period of time and yet it is, definitely long enough that you can no longer remember what it feels like to not be in love with him.
For so long, you have thought that you know everything there is to know about Matt, that he has trusted you with the fact that his accident did so much more than just leave him blind had made you think that he would never hide anything from you.
You have never been so wrong. Because if Matt did trust you, you would not have found out the secret about the man in the black mask in the way that you have- you would have found it out from him.
And that is how you find yourself fighting with your boyfriend, in an attempt to get answers. Neither of you is yelling or throwing things or lashing out, and yet you have never felt so broken.
“So when I think that you’re spending the night at your office, working on Elena Cardenas’ case, you are actually out there, on the streets, hitting people, getting into fights?”
Your question is mostly rhetorical and yet he responds with a nod and a “Yes” that is almost a whisper, and in that one word you can tell how broken he is in that moment, how afraid. And that affirmative is all that is needed to make you feel as if all the air has left your lungs and you can’t breathe.
Because without quite realizing it, you had been hoping that he would deny it, and tell you that he is not the vigilante they call the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. You sink down onto the sofa behind you, and drown deeper into the silence that has blanketed the room, stifling the two of you.
Until Matt breaks it with a non-committal murmur about leaving, and staying with Foggy, or some such that you barely catch, bogged down as you are by the war you are waging against yourself inside your mind.
“Where do you think you’re going?” you ask sharply and he pauses with his hand on the doorframe, “Sit down Matt, you’re not getting off that easy- we’re going to talk this through.”
“Really? You’re not just going to end things?” he sounds as if he can hardly believe what he has just heard.
“Of course not. We’ve come too far for that. We mean too much to each-“ you stop yourself, unable to finish the sentence which would once have come as easy as breathing, “you mean too much to me.”
Matt catches your hesitation and is quick to reassure you as he retraces his steps into the room and takes a seat opposite you. “You mean the world to me ___.”
“Well, I don’t have super hearing, do I? You’re going to have to convince me of that,” you snark back.
“Okay, I deserved that,” he dips his head in surrender with the tiniest of smiles, and you let yourself smile a little too.
“Help me understand, Matt, why did you feel that you had to keep something so important from me?”
Minutes pass in silence, each one tightening the knot in your chest, as you wait for your lover to answer you. And finally, he sighs heavily, as if preparing himself for the worst, and starts to speak.
“I thought you would be upset, and I just.. I didn’t want to hurt you ___. That was what I was thinking, that out of all the things in my life, you are the one person I cannot bear to lose.”
His words send a shiver down your spine, and your hands clench into fists in your lap as you attempt to process them. And of course, he realizes how conflicted you are and reaches out, taking your hands in his, the firm set of his shoulders relaxing when you don’t stop him immediately, instead choosing to twine your fingers with his- accepting the comfort he is trying to give you. You take a deep breath, and gather your thoughts, somehow managing to decide which questions are the most important to ask in that moment.
“You thought I wouldn’t approve?” He nods in response, sensing that you are not done yet.
“Matt, you were only doing what you thought you needed to do to help, what you thought was right. How could I have a problem with that?”
“So you understand?” he sounds so hopeful that you almost don’t have it in you to say what you are about to.
“Yes, I do understand, but,” you feel his hands tense in yours, and force yourself to continue, “I don’t know what to make of the fact that you didn’t feel you could trust me.”
The shock flickers across his face, disappearing almost as soon as it appears, and yet you catch it and realize that he has not considered this. He had expected anger, a tantrum perhaps, and that is how you know that you are handling this situation right- in the only way that gives your relationship with him a chance.
“___, I’m sorry. I never…” he trails off, unable to finish the sentence, “I promise you that I will never keep anything from you again. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness but please believe me when I say this, there will be no more secrets, no more lies.”
“Ask,” you prompt him and for all of minute, he looks confused before he realizes what you mean and then the words are spilling out of his mouth.
“I love you, I’m an idiot. Forgive me?” and the smile that forms on his face is the one that he knows makes your heart skip a beat.
“I forgive you,” you tell him with a laugh, leaning forward and closing the gap between the two of you to press your lips to his.
You pull away seconds later, and neither of you can stop grinning at the other. He drops your hands to cup your face instead, his touch on your cheeks gentle and barely there. You don’t know how he can make you feel so loved with so simple a gesture and you don’t care either as long as he keeps doing it.
“You are brilliant ___. I love you,” he whispers and you wonder if those are tears that have his blue eyes shining so bright but not for long because then he is kissing you again. And with such passion that all you can think about is him, his lips on yours, his hands sliding away from your face to encircle your waist and tug you closer, his heart beating against yours. Only him, Matt Murdock, the man you love more than anything else in the world.