My Devil

Chapter 8

There he was. Stood on the second to last tread of the stone steps that lead presumably up to the church above; half on half off as if he had been stopped mid-decent. It was like the world had just... stopped.

You drank him in.

His hair, messy and in need of a good cut was just as soft and floppy as it usually was, pushed back from his face from having had his hand run through it one too many times. He wore all black, rips in his t-shirt revealing cuts that had not yet been cleaned and were most likely fresh. His heavy combat boots, still laced up, were wet with rain, blood or mud it was hard to tell in the dim light. He held in one hand a black scarf that appeared to have been made into a makeshift mask. Had it really been him that rescued you from that warehouse, dressed like this? Was he really standing here in front of you? He had clearly not shaved for some time and his blood and sweat-caked face held every emotion you could have possibly named. His jaw flickered with tension as he gritted his teeth in anticipation of whatever you might do or say next. His brown furrowed just the slightest amount as his brown eyes looked just past you, pools of infinite sadness.

Any sense of anger drained from your body. You didn't care about how much you hurt, or how much your head spun. You didn't care about any of the lies you might have been told, you didn't care about the lost time and the months of grief. All you could feel was the intense pounding in your chest, the tears spill silently over and you knew he could feel it all too. Just the look on his face said that. Your heart was breaking and mending over and over at a speed that you couldn't keep up with, goosebumps shivered through your skin with sadness. You wouldn't explain in.

You stood, not caring about what injuries you might have. "Don't-" the nun tried to stop you but she saw the exchange the two of you currently shared across the empty room, decided that it would have been pointless to stop either of you and she took her leave. Not that you even really noticed her anymore. There was currently no one else in the world as far as you were considered. No one but Matt Murdock as he stood before you. The saddest devil you had ever seen.

Each step you took was laboured and sent yet another ripple of pain up through your leg. But you didn't even wince. Stood just a step below Matt you looked up to him like he was some kind of God and you feared that there and then your knees would buckle. You couldn't help but reach a careful hand up and press your cold palm against his cheek, checking to see if it really was him. He flicked away for a second and you held your hand in the air for a second, unsure why he might not allow your touch. It took him a moment but eventually you were able to stand on the same stone step as him, press your hand to his face and it was like a sudden weight had been lifted off your heart and you let out an audible gasp as your knees finally did give out.

He caught you before you could hit the floor and he cradled you in his arms as his own tears spilt over. "Y/N-" he whispered but his voice caught in his throat and he choked on his own sobs. You managed to pull yourself up in his arms and wrap your own around his neck, burying your head in his shoulder, breathing in his scent and holding him close. Together you sobbed in each other's arms, whispering each other's names over and over as you had both feared that you would never get to say that word again. You barely noticed him pause his sadness for a moment, just enough to pick you up off the floor and place you back into the bed, making sure to not break the precious contact you had as he climbed in next to you. You hung onto his shirt, his hair, his forearm, anything you could reach just to keep him close as you continued to let out the months of pent-up frustration and sadness and now shock out eventually crying yourself into a half sleep. Matt had dropped his mask on the floor and just about managed to pull his bloodied t-shirt off before pulling the sheets up around you. There in the basement of the church, in that small metal bed frame, the light from the stained glass window illuminating the scene, Matt too fell into a half-sleep state and for the first time in months, he dreamt of nothing. At least, there were no nightmares.