Hell | Matt Murdock

10

Logan's eyes flutter open to a dimly lit room. The morning light seeps through the edges of the blinds, casting a gentle glow on the unfamiliar surroundings. Her head feels heavy, and there's a moment of disorientation before the memories of the previous night flood back.

She shifts slightly, her movement causing the bed to creak. The sound is enough to rouse Matt, who's been lying still beside her. His senses, heightened by the absence of sight, immediately pick up on the subtle changes in the room—the soft rustle of the sheets, the faint scent of Logan's perfume, the rhythmic beating of their combined heartbeats.

Matt stirs, his head turning slightly toward her.

"Morning," He says, his voice a low murmur that caresses the air.

Logan grunts in response, her guard still firmly in place. She sits up, running a hand through her tousled hair, and casts a sidelong glance at Matt. His face is serene, the lines of worry that often mark his features softened in sleep.

"We should talk about last night," Matt suggests, his voice gentle but persistent.

Logan scoffs, attempting to brush off the weight of the moment, "Talking's overrated."

He tilts his head, his keen senses picking up on the subtle nuances of her body language, "You're not as tough as you pretend to be."

Logan scowls, her walls closing in, "Don't act like you know me, Murdock."

"I know you better than you think," He replies, his tone carrying a quiet certainty.

She rolls her eyes, trying to mask the turmoil beneath the surface, "Yeah, yeah, you're a real superhero, huh?"

Matt sighs, his gaze steady even though he can't meet hers, " You don't have to put up walls."

Logan, however, is a master of deflection, "Save the hero talk for someone who cares."

The room falls into a tense silence. Matt, sensing her reluctance, decides to change tactics, "You know, I can hear your heart."

She raises an eyebrow, feigning indifference, "What's your point?"

"My point is," He says, his voice taking on a warmth that cuts through her defenses, "your heart tells me more than your words ever could."

Logan huffs, crossing her arms in a defensive posture, "So, what's it telling you?"

Matt grins, though she can't see it, "That maybe, just maybe, you don't hate me as much as you want to believe."

She scowls, irritation bubbling beneath her tough exterior, "You're delusional."

But Matt isn't deterred. He sits up, his face turned toward her, even though his eyes remain hidden behind the mask, "I think you're scared. Scared of letting someone in."

Logan's jaw tightens, a stubborn refusal to acknowledge the truth, "I'm not scared of anything."

Matt, undeterred, inches closer. His fingers graze hers, a gesture meant to bridge the emotional gap between them, "You don't have to be, not with me."

She pulls away, the touch unsettling her more than she cares to admit, "I don't need saving."

"I'm not trying to save you," he replies, his words carrying a weight of sincerity, "I just want you to know you're not alone."

Logan glares at him, defiance etched into her features, "You don't know anything about me."

Matt tilts his head, a small smile playing on his lips, "I know enough."

The air thickens with tension as Matt continues to prod at the edges of Logan's defenses. She shifts uncomfortably, her resolve waning under the persistent assault on her emotional barricades. It's a territory she's not accustomed to, and Matt, with his perceptive nature, exploits it.