Matt Murdock Shorts

Blood is Rare and Sweet as Cherry Wine

At first, he wasn't sure. He'd hug you and you'd wince when his hand brushed your rib. You laughed it off.

"Matt, you know how clumsy I am. I ran into a railing."

He nodded, let out a laugh and a concerned 'be careful' to put you at ease, but he knew something was off. While he's been present for many such occasions, he's also told that kind of lie too many times to mistake it for anything else. Even if he couldn't hear your heartbeat kick into overdrive, and calm down when he went along with it.

He murmurs your name. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"I know, Matt."

As much as he didn't like any of it, he let it go. If you don't want to tell him something, that's your right.

Except, it keeps happening. A friendly squeeze of your shoulder at Josie's one night has you inhaling with a sharp breath. He stops, asks if you're okay.

"I'm fine. It's... work. It's a fast-paced environment with too many people and not enough space. Someone flung a door open and clipped my shoulder."

And he almost believes that one. You tell him stories like that all the time. Except, your heart betrays you. It's been awhile since the rib, though so he gives you your space again.

A couple months go by, everything's fine. After what Mary did to him, he's paranoid. He knows that. But he cares so much- too much- about you. Then you meet up again and he can't ignore it. He's sitting on his sofa, talking to you when he notices it. Your face is always expressive- he can sense that. If he's close enough, and the room is quiet enough, he can hear the way your muscles move. How the blood reroutes under your skin. Tonight isn't any different. Except, he can smell the amount of product on your face. It's more than you usually wear- especially when it's only you and him. He wonders if it's because he's blind or if you're comfortable enough with him that you wouldn't wear it anyway. More likely a mixture of both. But that's not the point. You're hurt. Again. When he listens, he can hear the way the blood pools under the surface of your skin. The way it struggles through crushed and broken blood vessels and capillaries.

"Matt, are you listening to me?"

He blinks. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear any of that."

"What's wrong? Is someone hurt?"Yes. "Do you need to go vaulting into the distance to save them?" No.

"Y/n, I know you have a big bruise under your eye. What's it from this time?"

You're quiet for a long while. "How can you tell?"

"Does it matter? It isn't something you can hide from me. I mean, you know I'm a human lie detector, right?"

"So why do you bother asking, if you know I'm not telling the truth?"

"Because I'm hoping one of these days you will. If there are things that you don't want me to know about your life, that's fine. What's not fine is that someone is hurting you. You know I love you." It feels strange- almost like a lie- saying those three words to you, knowing you're not hearing them how he intends them. But he wouldn't have said it if he thought you'd see through him. Not now, like this. "You know I'm here for you, and I have the ability to help. Please, let me in." You stay silent. He lets his statements hang there for a minute before saying your name. More silence, but this time it's accompanied by tears he can hear sliding down your skin, dropping off your face and soaking into your jeans one by one. "Oh, y/n, come here." He opens his arms, feeling the couch shift before you curl into him and sob. "Hey, it's okay, I'm here, I have you." He strokes his hand through your hair. "And you'll always have me." Once again, he feels the weight of that statement more than you know. "Okay? We'll figure this out together."