Foggy traces it lightly, tip of his finger on his lower forehead, across his eyebrow where the hair doesn't grow anymore, running down along his temple and stopping just short of his cheeckbone. It's a blank spot in Matt's otherwise incredibly sensitive skin, the scar tissue having no working nerve endings. It doesn't stop Foggy from ghosting his touch, ever so gentle, and Matt can hear the whisper of air in the gesture, both their pulses quickening in time.

"Could have lost an eye," Foggy mumbles, as he always does when they do this.

"Wouldn't have made much of a difference," Matt replies, as is his wont.

Foggy's hand stills, falls away. "Don't, Matt. You know, you know how I feel about this."

"Sorry," Matt breathes, groping for his glasses. He could focus and hone in on them without a doubt, but he's too tired, and he's with Foggy, and he doesn't need to, to...

Foggy picks the glasses up and presents them to Matt, open and facing the right way. "May I?"

Matt leans forward, tilt ing his head and letting his eyes fall shut as Foggy perches them on his nose.

It wouldn't make much of a difference to Matt, true, but this, with Foggy, is something he can't lose. He'd go insane. It would rip him apart, without even a scar to show for it. He needs to be more careful. He needs to find a way so Foggy won't worry so much.

He needs to learn to hide his scars better.