I swear I'm getting to the point, at least Foggy is in it now!
...
Matt turns eighteen and inherits the money his father put away for him.
Matt graduates High School with the highest honors, A’s across the board. He’d engrossed himself in schoolwork and training. He needed to be better, the best. The only thing that mattered were his grades and keeping fit and ready. His dad and Stick might be gone, but he didn’t want to disappoint them again.
The kids at school didn’t really seem to want to be his friends, and that worked perfectly fine for Matt. Maybe it was because he was blind, and they didn’t know what to say to him, how to approach him. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to make any friends either. He certainly didn’t go out of his way to talk to anyone, he had enough on his plate. Being the best was hard when your school could barely make an effort to accommodate you.
The only ones who ever tried to get close to him were of a particular variety. To them, it didn’t matter if he was cold. Matt knew the play, knew the entire script by heart after the very first time. They’d sidle into his life, their heartbeats spiking when he smiled politely. They’d whisper things in his ears, about his body, about what they’d like to do with it. No one was ever interested in what was inside.
Maybe they could see the sin, the Devil. Maybe not.
He let it happen. Let these people flit in and out of his last two years at school. He didn’t go to their parties, the music was too loud, and they smelled of vomit and piss and alcohol. They still found ways to lure him in - so they thought. He knew they found him attractive, he must have grown out of the young, gangly face he remembered. He knew his body was better, stronger - not strong enough, but strong all the same. Other times he suspected they got some strange satisfaction out of his blindness, his disability. They were giving him something, they thought, something of value. Including him, as if he couldn’t live life without their help.
It was disgusting, but he let them touch him anyway. These people he didn’t care about, at least they could get something from him. At least he could be put to good use. Do something right.
He lets these people touch him and listens to them whisper about him behind his back, like shouts in an empty room. He doesn’t care, doesn’t care at all. He just works harder.
It pays off, in the end. He feels that feeling behind his eyes again when he gets accepted to Law School, even more so when he sees the scholarship offer. Still, it’s expensive.
When he pays his first year tuition with the winnings from his dad’s fight, it feels like his dad is right there, urging him on. This is what he would have wanted, he’s finally doing something right.
That damn feeling behind his eyes won’t go away.
...
“Most people dance around me like I’m made of glass,” Matt admits, pleasantly surprised at his new roommates demeanor. Maybe living this close to someone won’t be total hell, “I hate that.”
“Yeah, you’re just a guy right?” Foggy replies, Matt can hear his heartbeat jump, “A really, really good-looking guy.”
“Oh,” Matt stills, and catches himself. What was he thinking? That this person he had just met, talked to for only moments... what? That they would be his friend?
He should know better.
Matt knows this play, knows the entire script by heart. He stays silent, he can’t let this one happen, because then it really will be hell living with Foggy. Hopefully he’ll let it go, move on and pursue something else once he realizes Matt isn’t even good for a conversation, let alone a sexual partner. Maybe they can live in relatively silent peace while they’re here.
Suddenly Foggy backtracks, makes some excuse about how the girls must love that. Matt is confused, obviously Foggy had thought he was uncomfortable, but why would he care. That’s not part of the script, that’s not how it usually goes.
He’s moving through the motions, a little out of his comfort zone making nice with Foggy. But the man is genuine, and sounds so happy, it’s confusing to Matt, but he finds himself answering quickly and before he can think. It’s all very unusual.
Foggy asks him if he wants to go get a coffee. No, Foggy coerces him into getting a coffee. There’s no semblance of choice in the way that Foggy rattles off the invitation, saying something else about picking up girls, before awkwardly offering him his arm and sweeping him out of the room. Matt barely has a chance to think before he’s sitting in the coffee shop, something warm in his hands. Normally, this should be freaking him out. He’s not okay with this, right?
Somehow, Matt doesn’t think he really minds.
He’s never liked someone so much so quickly, he tries to deny it, but even that first day he as Foggy rambles on about something, he listens closely to the breathly little laughs that escape the man everytime he smiles. Like he can’t do one without the other. At the end of his story he laughs louder, a belly laugh that dances through the air and all around Matt’s head, the sound of it and Foggy’s heartbeat loud in his heart, and something in Matt whispers, friend.
He has a sudden and overwhelming urge to see what Foggy looks like.
Matt hasn’t felt that way since the moment Stick walked out of his life. Couldn’t bring himself to care.
This is something new, Matt realizes. An opportunity. He shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t be so weak, but he can’t help it. He was too deep after only one conversation with the man. He feels a brief moment of hope.
Then a sudden, urgent fear.
This has barely begun, and already Matt knows he cannot stand to lose it.
FILL: For a Brief Moment (3/?)
...
Matt turns eighteen and inherits the money his father put away for him.
Matt graduates High School with the highest honors, A’s across the board. He’d engrossed himself in schoolwork and training. He needed to be better, the best. The only thing that mattered were his grades and keeping fit and ready. His dad and Stick might be gone, but he didn’t want to disappoint them again.
The kids at school didn’t really seem to want to be his friends, and that worked perfectly fine for Matt. Maybe it was because he was blind, and they didn’t know what to say to him, how to approach him. Maybe it was because he didn’t want to make any friends either. He certainly didn’t go out of his way to talk to anyone, he had enough on his plate. Being the best was hard when your school could barely make an effort to accommodate you.
The only ones who ever tried to get close to him were of a particular variety. To them, it didn’t matter if he was cold. Matt knew the play, knew the entire script by heart after the very first time. They’d sidle into his life, their heartbeats spiking when he smiled politely. They’d whisper things in his ears, about his body, about what they’d like to do with it. No one was ever interested in what was inside.
Maybe they could see the sin, the Devil. Maybe not.
He let it happen. Let these people flit in and out of his last two years at school. He didn’t go to their parties, the music was too loud, and they smelled of vomit and piss and alcohol. They still found ways to lure him in - so they thought. He knew they found him attractive, he must have grown out of the young, gangly face he remembered. He knew his body was better, stronger - not strong enough, but strong all the same. Other times he suspected they got some strange satisfaction out of his blindness, his disability. They were giving him something, they thought, something of value. Including him, as if he couldn’t live life without their help.
It was disgusting, but he let them touch him anyway. These people he didn’t care about, at least they could get something from him. At least he could be put to good use. Do something right.
He lets these people touch him and listens to them whisper about him behind his back, like shouts in an empty room. He doesn’t care, doesn’t care at all. He just works harder.
It pays off, in the end. He feels that feeling behind his eyes again when he gets accepted to Law School, even more so when he sees the scholarship offer. Still, it’s expensive.
When he pays his first year tuition with the winnings from his dad’s fight, it feels like his dad is right there, urging him on. This is what he would have wanted, he’s finally doing something right.
That damn feeling behind his eyes won’t go away.
...
“Most people dance around me like I’m made of glass,” Matt admits, pleasantly surprised at his new roommates demeanor. Maybe living this close to someone won’t be total hell, “I hate that.”
“Yeah, you’re just a guy right?” Foggy replies, Matt can hear his heartbeat jump, “A really, really good-looking guy.”
“Oh,” Matt stills, and catches himself. What was he thinking? That this person he had just met, talked to for only moments... what? That they would be his friend?
He should know better.
Matt knows this play, knows the entire script by heart. He stays silent, he can’t let this one happen, because then it really will be hell living with Foggy. Hopefully he’ll let it go, move on and pursue something else once he realizes Matt isn’t even good for a conversation, let alone a sexual partner. Maybe they can live in relatively silent peace while they’re here.
Suddenly Foggy backtracks, makes some excuse about how the girls must love that. Matt is confused, obviously Foggy had thought he was uncomfortable, but why would he care. That’s not part of the script, that’s not how it usually goes.
He’s moving through the motions, a little out of his comfort zone making nice with Foggy. But the man is genuine, and sounds so happy, it’s confusing to Matt, but he finds himself answering quickly and before he can think. It’s all very unusual.
Foggy asks him if he wants to go get a coffee. No, Foggy coerces him into getting a coffee. There’s no semblance of choice in the way that Foggy rattles off the invitation, saying something else about picking up girls, before awkwardly offering him his arm and sweeping him out of the room. Matt barely has a chance to think before he’s sitting in the coffee shop, something warm in his hands. Normally, this should be freaking him out. He’s not okay with this, right?
Somehow, Matt doesn’t think he really minds.
He’s never liked someone so much so quickly, he tries to deny it, but even that first day he as Foggy rambles on about something, he listens closely to the breathly little laughs that escape the man everytime he smiles. Like he can’t do one without the other. At the end of his story he laughs louder, a belly laugh that dances through the air and all around Matt’s head, the sound of it and Foggy’s heartbeat loud in his heart, and something in Matt whispers, friend.
He has a sudden and overwhelming urge to see what Foggy looks like.
Matt hasn’t felt that way since the moment Stick walked out of his life. Couldn’t bring himself to care.
This is something new, Matt realizes. An opportunity. He shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t be so weak, but he can’t help it. He was too deep after only one conversation with the man. He feels a brief moment of hope.
Then a sudden, urgent fear.
This has barely begun, and already Matt knows he cannot stand to lose it.
...