"Wha- She died on me - again!" Matt couldn't help but exclaim even though it felt like he was going to get a heart attack. He was sure they still had time to get out when he figured out she'd regained her senses, however slim their chances were at getting out of there alive, but she kept fighting him. And it's not that he blames her for what had happened or didn't want to stay behind with her, or that he wouldn't have made that decision again in a heartbeat, but that's not fair to put that on his shoulders.
Just talking about it made Matt upset again, like he can feel the distant rumbling in the dark and the weight of certain death coming after them. And just that helplessness of not being able to save her, of having tried talking and failing, fighting and failing. That inevitability of knowing that he would lose her again. It twisted inside him like a knife in his belly.
He always looked more vulnerable without his glasses, like he's always worn them as his armour and never learnt how to hide his emotions. He wants to grab something and throw it across the room and the only thing stopping him is how much it would scare Karen to see him like this. This is not how he envisioned coming back from Midland Circle.
"It's not Daredevil, is it?" The tears well up in his eyes, but he refuses to shed them. As his anger burns white hot, he withdraws and ponders what his own reflection would look like. Whether he'd scare his nine year old self with how old and angry he's become. He looks like he's in more pain than the flesh wounds could ever inflict on him.
"It's me." He swallows. "The Devil didn't drive you out of my life. I did."
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Just talking about it made Matt upset again, like he can feel the distant rumbling in the dark and the weight of certain death coming after them. And just that helplessness of not being able to save her, of having tried talking and failing, fighting and failing. That inevitability of knowing that he would lose her again. It twisted inside him like a knife in his belly.
He always looked more vulnerable without his glasses, like he's always worn them as his armour and never learnt how to hide his emotions. He wants to grab something and throw it across the room and the only thing stopping him is how much it would scare Karen to see him like this. This is not how he envisioned coming back from Midland Circle.
"It's not Daredevil, is it?" The tears well up in his eyes, but he refuses to shed them. As his anger burns white hot, he withdraws and ponders what his own reflection would look like. Whether he'd scare his nine year old self with how old and angry he's become. He looks like he's in more pain than the flesh wounds could ever inflict on him.
"It's me." He swallows. "The Devil didn't drive you out of my life. I did."