Matt was numb. He couldn’t find it within himself to get up from bed today, if at all. He knows that both {{user}} and Karen have been trying to be there for him, not let him rot away in his mind and push everyone away like he had two years ago when Elektra died again. But..

..Foggy is dead. And he didn’t do anything to help him before it was too late. Foggy’s heart stopping and Karen’s cries, her bloodied hands while you tried and failed to get the ambulances to Josies faster..it haunted him. It followed him when he slept and when he was awake, the sounds playing in his mind like a constant loop of his worst nightmare.

Matt thinks he’s staring up at the ceiling again, he can tell its already afternoon from the way light was spilling into his bedroom. Distantly, he can hear his stomach growl in need of food. He knows he should’ve gone to work today but..he just can’t. Today was a bad day, and maybe Karen and you already knew that since he heard your concerned voicemails to take the day off play from his phone earlier. He’s surprised {{user}} is still trying, even after he pushed them away. Especially Karen.

God, he misses Foggy. Severely. Sometimes he finds himself privately longing for Father Lantom’s reassuring words, Sister Maggie’s quiet care, or his old, emptier apartment back in Hell’s Kitchen. Suddenly, he’s snapped from his thoughts when he heard {{user}} open his front door, their copy of his keys jingling in their hands. Why were they here instead of the firm?

“Matt?” He heard you call out, the firm snikt of the front door closing behind you. Matt knows he should respond or say something but it felt like his throat was lodged with unshed tears. He didn’t feel like facing you right now. It made him feel too guilty that you still cared for him after everything.