The Invisible String: Matt Murdock/ Daredevil

7.

They sat on the floor, leaning against the kitchen island. Her back and legs ached, and she silently scolded herself for never buying a couch. Her face was frozen in a contorted "What?" expression throughout Matt's entire explanation of the past few years. Not a single detail was left out of the last few months, much to his dismay.

"Damn. You weren't kidding. This is bad." Her mouth pressed into a tight line as she nodded toward the wall. "Like I said, I don't want you dragged into this."

She rolled her eyes at his stubbornness.

"Learn to deal with it. On another note, remind me why you're not talking to Foggy and Karen."

Matt's jaw twitched, the pain of the separation clearly etched on his face.

"I can't let them get hurt because of something I brought into their lives."

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder just like she used to. His shoulders relaxed, and he let out a long breath, leaning against her.

"You and I both know pushing them away will hurt them more."

Her voice softened, and he felt the exhaustion finally catching up to him. She was right. The thought had been weighing on him ever since he had decided to put up a mask for everyone. His thoughts threatened to drive him mad. He missed his friends, his job, his life.

"I can't let them get hurt, Anne. Too many people already have because of me. It won't happen again."

"Because of you?" She looked at the scars on his knuckles. "Or because of Fisk?"

"Both," he said with a small, pained smirk.

"You need to rest."

She lifted her head as he followed her gaze around the room.

"I'll go to the church. They've been hiding people for years."

"Stay here. Take the bed. I'll take the... uh..." She searched the room for a nonexistent couch.

"The stool," she finished with a shrug.

She helped him to his feet. He laughed softly, shaking his head before clutching his ribs in pain. Limping toward the window, he gritted his teeth with each step, clearly trying to hide how much it hurt. She huffed and stepped in front of him, placing a delicate hand on his chest to stop him.

"I'm serious, Matt."

He sighed. Why was she always able to see right through him? Foggy and Karen certainly influenced his actions, but he could never help but listen to her.

"I'm not taking your bed, Anne. This is your home."

She huffed, feeling a strange pang of pre-regret, if that was even a thing.

"Wait here."

She climbed out the window again, trying to ignore how sketchy the fire escape looked now that adrenaline wasn't pumping through her veins. Entering through Matt's window, she moved cautiously, searching for some kind of storage cabinet. She grabbed several blankets and pillows, feeling awkward about stealing his things. Glancing around his room, she ignored the invasive feeling—as if she didn't belong there. The bland décor somehow felt like home: smooth textures, minimal electronics, simple but comforting.

With great difficulty, she made her way back to the window, careful not to drop the bedding. Matt helped her through.

"What are you hibernating for?" he joked, helping her carry four pillows and three blankets into her room.

"Maybe you just have nicer stuff than me, so I'm robbing you. Next time, I'm going for your couch."

She shrugged, and both let out soft chuckles. She missed him so much. She vowed never to lose her best friend again.

"Okay, so I'm sorted."

Annalise crossed her arms, proud of her makeshift bed—pillows, a blanket, and an eye mask tossed in a corner.

Matt shuffled closer, standing behind her and peering over her shoulder.

"You're... proud of that?"

She gasped in offense.

"You can't even see it."

She retorted sharply. He smirked. She knelt down on the floor before two hands slipped under her arms. She yelped quietly as he lifted her onto the edge of the bed.

Matt sat down on the pile of blankets and tossed her a pillow and eye mask, which she caught easily.

"Thanks for everything tonight."

He ignored the surprise in her voice, pulling a blanket over himself as he settled in.

"Keep pulling stunts like that and I'll have to redo all the stitching."

She rolled her eyes and lay down facing him.

"Night, Anne."

"Night, Matt."

A slight weight lifted from her chest. A joy she hadn't felt in a long time was reignited. She felt at home. Anywhere was home, as long as she was with the right person.

She knew the coming weeks, months—maybe even years—would be torture. She probably should have regretted agreeing so early, knowing Matt regretted telling her in the first place. But she didn't. If anything, she looked forward to watching the man she hated suffer.