Burning Doves//Matthew Murdock

6

She hadn't expected a visitor.

There was seldom seen another person besides herself standing outside the door to her apartment.

Yet now, as she stood with one palm placed gently against the wooden frame, peering curiously through the peephole, did she see the tall silhouette of a stranger standing in front of the door, head tilted slightly to the side, both hands grasping the black grip of the long cane in front of him.

Emma frowned slightly, blinking in effort to clear the fog from her mind.

Gingerly she took a step back, biting her lip and running a hand self consciously through her hair.

She couldn't remember the last time she washed it.

Since the attack, her days had blurred together, dust slowly gathering once more on the yellowed keys of her piano as it wilted away in disuse.

And yet now here someone stood, dark hair brushed neatly away from his face, red tinted glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, only slightly covering the dark bruise that shaded his cheekbone.

With a deep breath, she stepped back and opened the door.

She was greeted by a kind, yet sad, smile that spread across the man's face as she studied him gingerly.

"Yes?" Her voice sounded foggy and strange in her own ears, and she coughed in vain attempt to clear it away.

"Hi, I'm Matt Murdock," he began, his voice low and soft. "I live a few doors down."

Emma nodded her head in acknowledgement, before realizing that he probably couldn't see it, and instead grunted awkwardly.

"Emma," she greeted, accepting the hand that he had offered to her in greeting.

"I actually, uh," he gave a small chuckle. "I've been listening to your music. So--pardon the intrusion--but, uh, you haven't been playing for the last month, and I didn't know if you had moved out, or something had happened."

Emma let a soft smile break across her face.

"Oh, I just haven't gotten around to playing much recently," she managed, before stepping aside and opening the door wider. "Would you like to come in?"

The man smiled softly before shifting his weight and letting out a small chuckle.

"Thank you, but I can't, I'm actually heading to work right now," he began, motioning down the hall. "But, I can stop by tonight, if you're okay with that."

Although Emma had never met him personally before, a sense of trust had already begun to develop inside her, a small flower slowly spreading its petals and stretching towards the sun.

"Sure, I'd like that," her words were soft, and briefly she was afraid he hadn't heard it. "Would you like to listen to something? A song or.. Whatever?" She coughed awkwardly, feeling her cheeks begin to burn.

"Yeah, I'd like that."  

Guys, I'm not going to lie, I actually really hate this. 
I've had it written for a while, but I couldn't seem to get Matt right, and then I hated how their conversation played out, but I decided that I shouldn't keep you all waiting any longer and that it was better to just put something out.

I'm really sorry, I've lost motivation and inspiration to write and honestly, I kind of want to die (lol rip me). But I also can't seem to get Emma right anymore, and I don't have the love or will to write her character, and don't even really have interest in anything. So it's hard to write fanfiction when you aren't really a fan of anything anymore.

AHAHAHAAAA DEATH COME TO ME PLS I NEED YOU