The Invisible String: Matt Murdock/ Daredevil

22

That night, they huddled together for one last dinner around the tiny kitchen table. Takeout containers were spread across the surface, chopsticks and plastic forks clattering as they traded dishes back and forth.

"This feels like a wake," Foggy said through a mouthful of noodles.

"Not a wake," Annalise corrected softly. "More like a... send-off."

Matt reached across the table until his fingers brushed hers. Just a light touch, but it grounded her.

Later, Foggy and Karen curled up on the lounge again, arguing half-asleep over which movie to watch on his phone. In the bedroom, Annalise fussed over Matt one last time before he finally coaxed her to lie down beside him.

The walls were bare. The dresser was empty. The room felt like a shell. But when she curled into Matt's side, his heartbeat steady beneath her cheek, it didn't matter anymore.

"Tomorrow," she whispered.

"Tomorrow," he echoed, lips brushing her hair.

And with that, they fell asleep for the last time in Annalise's apartment, ready to face whatever the haunted new place had in store for them.

____

The new apartment smelled faintly of dust and wood polish, the kind of scent that clung to places left unlived in for too long. When Annalise pushed open the creaking door, the four of them were greeted not just by peeling wallpaper and uneven floorboards... but by furniture.

Lots of it.

"This wasn't in the listing," Foggy said, frowning at a floral-patterned sofa that looked like it had survived at least three decades of cigarette smoke.

Karen poked her head into the dining room. "Uh, guys? There's a grandfather clock in here. And it's ticking somehow."

Matt tilted his head, grimacing. "Yeah, I hear it."

Annalise pressed her lips together, fighting a laugh. "The landlord said previous tenants left things behind. He offered to knock money off the rent if we just... kept it."

"Kept it?" Foggy repeated. "This isn't furniture, this is set dressing for a horror movie!"

The living room boasted a sagging floral sofa, two wingback chairs with clawed feet, and a coffee table that bore suspicious scorch marks. The dining room had the ominous grandfather clock, plus a long oak table with matching chairs that all wobbled when you touched them.

The bedrooms, however, had simple wooden bedframes with heavy legs. The wood was old and scratched but sturdy, silent when Karen tested one by pressing down on the mattress.

"Okay," she said, sighing with relief. "At least these won't collapse under us."

"Unless the ghosts are vindictive," Foggy muttered.

"Don't," Annalise warned quickly, eyeing the dark hallway. "Just—don't."

By evening, boxes were shoved into corners, and the mismatched, slightly sinister furniture actually gave the place a lived-in feel. Still, there was one problem: the grandfather clock.

Its tick was deafening in the silence. Each sound rattled faintly through the floorboards, and Annalise swore she could feel it vibrating in her teeth.

Matt sat stiffly in the wingback chair, his head turning minutely toward it again and again. "That thing is... distracting."

"Distracting?" Annalise scoffed. "It's torture."

Karen raised her brows over a slice of pizza. "It's just a clock."