“Matt, stop!” Foggy cries. He watches as his friend stops hitting the punching bag, his arms falling limply to his sides. His knuckles are covered in blood.
“I don’t deserve to wear that suit, Foggy,” Matt rasps out. He stumbles forward and Foggy catches him in his arms.
“You can’t save everyone, dude. It’s not your fault,” he says. The words sound hollow to his ears but he says them anyway, Matt needs to hear them.
Matt sags against Foggy’s sturdy frame and he clenches his fist. “I failed him,” he says softly, anger and disappointment thrumming in his voice.
“You did your best--”
“Well my best wasn’t good enough!” Matt snaps. He pulls away from Foggy and stumbles over to the punching bag once more.
Foggy watches as he splays his fingers out on either side of the bag, holding it in place. He leans forward, pressing his forehead against the stained cloth and he closes his eyes.
Foggy feels useless. He wants to help Matt but he’s not sure how to. They’ve never had to deal with problems like this before, it’s a whole new world for the both of them. Slowly, he makes his way over to him and places a hand on his bare shoulder. “Let me clean up your knuckles,” he says quietly. He can feel the rage rolling off Matt’s body and he half expects him to lash out again but he doesn’t. He falls into a moody silence but he allows Foggy to lead him off to the side, where he sits on a bench. Foggy quickly locates the First Aid kit, along with a bottle of water and he sits down next to Matt.
“Left hand,” Foggy says sternly. He washes off the blood as best as he can, getting some of it on his clothes in the process.
“Your soiling your clothes,” Matt says softly as Foggy applies ointment to the little cuts on his skin.
“Ew, who uses the word soiled?” Foggy teases.
Matt cracks a little smile and hangs his head.
Foggy finds a roll of gauze and begins to tenderly wrap it around Matt’s knuckles. “We should go to Coney Island,” Foggy says. “Right hand.”
Matt extends his other arm and winces when the water hits one of the cuts. “I haven’t been there in a long time.”
“Some salt water would do you good,” Foggy says gruffly.
Matt smiles. “You think so?”
“You’re too hard on yourself, Matt. It’s bad enough you feel like you have to...put on that stupid mask and run around the city at night.”
“You think my mask is stupid?”
Foggy snorts. “Like I said, the horns are a bit much.” He finishes wrapping up Matt’s right hand and then he looks down at his own hands.
“Thank you, Foggy,” Matt says quietly. He reaches out tentatively and hovers his hand next to Foggy’s cheek. “Is it okay if I…” his voice trails off.
Foggy blinks and nods. “I just nodded.”
Matt smiles and gently caresses Foggy’s face. “Why do you even stick around?” he asks.
Foggy laughs. “Because I…”
Matt can hear Foggy’s heartbeat increase and he trails his hand down, pausing on his chest, right over his heart. “I know,” he says softly.
“What did I tell you about listening to heartbeats without permission?” Foggy asks with a little smile.
Matt chuckles softly and bites down on his bottom lip.
Foggy stares at him for a moment and then he sighs. “Come on, Murdock. Let’s get you home.”