SpideyDevil

Saving Face

Getting home was no walk in the park, he seemed to have spoken that migraine into existence and every sound of the bustling modern city was blistering.
Matt pulled up the hood of the jacket and slid the clubs into his waistband and cradled his bundle of suit under arm and put his head down to muscle his way back to his apartment where he managed through a brief conversation with Foggy wherein he put forth a better explanation of his absence.

Once he hung up he put his phone on the charger, put food into his body, and sunk to the floor to meditate.
He noticed two things very quickly, the smell of Peter clung to the sweater and it was mind numbing.
The sweater was pulled off and tossed to the couch, and Matt attempted to refocus.
A battle he refought over the next hour before he gave up entirely, not feeling that much better but far too engrossed in his thoughts about Peter Parker, Spiderman, and all the things he had said to him from his quaint student apartment from which he saved the city time and time again.
Matt showered, changed his clothes into something nicer, and slid his glasses to his nose to do the only other thing he knew when facing a crisis of conscience.
Clinton Church was a small cathedral, but its weathered stone and stained glass stood like a gem among the harsh metal of the city. Matt hid away in the softness of the world there, dampened by the wooden pews and candle flickers, soft hymns and whispered confessions or sighs of grief.
Here those that knelt at odd hours were searching for something, and Matt was no exception.

Over the next few days Matt managed his classes and his work, but he spent most of the rest of his time in a deep state of meditation...or prayer.
He was notably absent from the rooftops, and he made himself noticeably absent from Foggy but his friend was not unaccustomed to Matt's withdrawals and thought little of it. Assuming his friend would be resting.
In a manor he was, and less than a week later Matt left his internship and headed towards his apartment to suit up, only taking a detour to slide into the church, chewing his lip and twisting his cane in his hand.
"Matthew?" Despite having come here with the intention of clearing his conscious of the questions that had been consuming him he jumped when the man spoke next to him.
"Father Lantom.... I had something I needed to ask you..."
Once they had settled into the priest's office Matt found himself struggling to vocalize his predicament for fear of the man, who'd known him since he was a child, judging him.
But eventually he managed with a thin voice, "the scripture on..." he cleared his throat but it added no weight to his words, "-homosexuality is heavily debated about. And I don't believe our God would... I don't believe it is wrong. I don't. It isn't what you have taught me father...
But..." he felt breathless, like someone was pressing on his chest and the handle of his cane groaned in his grip in retaliation.
"But why do I feel so guilty when... I feel something for...another..." he cleared his throat again but the next word came out nonetheless shallow, "man."
Every word had to be wrenched from him, from somewhere deep in him but frankly it felt like a relief to finally get them out.
Even as the look of surprise passed the priest's face, one that Matt didn't perceive.
The words that followed Matt locked away for review. But they lent him some comfort in the moment, a gentle reminder that those fears were not based in any reading of the divine and that God found value in all those that followed a path of righteousness, in whatever form that may take.
He slipped into mediation easier, and into his suit easier than that when finished.
And just as the sun was snuffed from the sky he found himself taking a breath of the air from atop one of his favorite perches, closer to the interior of the city where buildings began to touch the sky, out of his reach.
He closed his eyes and took in the pulsing writhing cacophony, combing out slowly tuning in and out of the things which crossed him.
Somewhere to his right he heard glass break, and a silent alarm that was quickly disarmed, and with pursed lips he was off, leaping with the ease of an acrobat to the next building, on his way towards the muttering of a small group of men, working on taking something that didn't belong to them.
-
So the last four days had been a strange busy blur for Peter Parker.
After Matt had left his apartment, he had spent the better part of the day writing up his weekly article for The Daily Bugle. When he had finished, his fingers eagerly typed away at his keyboard to email his article to Jameson. A smirk formed his lips as he proudly titled the subject line: Spiderman & Daredevil Save Kidnapped Child.
Clicking send, he watched the email go through.
Almost immediately, he received a ping from his computer, notifying him it had been marked as read.
About fifteen minutes later, about enough time for his article to be read and enough time for a childish melt down, he got a new message in his inbox.
A very curt, "great." was his only response.
But Peter, who knew Jameson very well by now, could practically feel his anger radiating from the other side of the screen.
Laughing to himself, he rested his chin in the palm of his hand and closed his work email, only to then open up his school one.
There were a few emails in his inbox from his college professors. One of them from his doctoral advisor asking him how his dissertation was going.
Huffing a sigh, he marked it for later. He needed to stop by the lab this week anyway to continue his progress on his radioactivity project.
Because despite the overwhelming senioritis he was feeling, he knew he was so close to finishing school. All he had to do was make this one last push this semester and he'd finally be done, making all of Aunt May's and Uncle Ben's sacrifices for him while growing up well worth it.
But as he tried to get on with his other school work, Peter's mind wouldn't stop returning to his new friend, which made it extremely difficult to focus on solving any of his equations.
It was only after he had stared at the same numbers for about ten minutes, he decided to indulge in his itch.
And so the inquisitive reporter opened up a new tab and typed into the search engine: Matthew Murdock.
When the screen refreshed, Peter was greeted with several local newspaper articles dating back several years ago. Clicking on the first one, his eyes quickly scanned the information detailing the tragedy that had happened in Hell's Kitchen.
RAND Oil & Chemicals truck collides with oncoming vehicle, leaving a massive chemical spill on the road, both drivers and two pedestrians injured. One victim and seemingly unlikely hero was nine year old Matthew Murdock, resident of Hell's Kitchen, who saved an elderly man by pushing him out of the path of the oncoming vehicle. The accident leaves him alive but in the hospital sustaining critical injuries and missing his eyesight. The road will be closed until clea-...
Peter sat back in his chair and thoughtfully chewed the inside of his cheek as a distant memory came to him from the depths of his mind.
Now that he thought about it, he did vaguely recall seeing something on the TV around the time and even gaining some sense of inspiration from the young boy's act of bravery.
-
Huh.. and Matt Murdock said he wasn't a hero.