This will maybe get past the hurt part and into comfort some time soon...
Also on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6715930
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“No, no, no, no… Matty what have you done?”
Foggy had gotten no response when he had pounded on the door, his hands shaking so hard he dropped the spare key twice before unlocking the door.
That’s when it hits him. He may not have Matt’s super sense of smell, but the coppery tang of blood is overwhelming. Foggy’s heart tries to leap out of his chest as he races into Matt’s apartment, praying he wasn’t too late.
“Dear God, dear God, fuck…”
Matt’s not in the living room or kitchen and isn’t responding to Foggy’s frantic cries for him. The search through Matt’s tiny apartment doesn’t take long and Foggy finds Matt in a pool of his own blood on those silk sheets he loved.
“Jesus, fuck, Matty!” Foggy could feel tears welling up as the exclamation leaked out, thinking of how Matt should scold him with a quiet, “Language,” and not be lying motionless in an ever growing puddle of blood.
To make things worse, Matt’s lips are turned up in a serene smile, his crucifix clutched tightly in his hand and his glasses set carefully on his bedside table.
It’s only a split second, but to Foggy time stops as he takes in the deep gashes in Matt’s wrists surrounded by a minefield of scabs and scars. How long had this been going on? He sees how pale Matt’s face has gotten, somehow even lighter than he normally was.
A primal cry rips from his throat as he pulls out his cellphone.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
Foggy realizes he’s incoherently sobbing and he has to stop if Matt has any chance of… no, can’t think of that if he wants to stop horrible wailing coming out of him.
“My friend, he slit his wrists, he tried to kill himself,” Foggy manages to get out before shouting Matt’s address for the second time today. Then he pulls Matt’s limp body into his arms.
The operator tries to get useful information out of Foggy after that, but he has nothing to offer. He has no idea how long ago Matt slit his wrists, but he knows that Matt’s losing blood quickly and he feels a little cold and they need to hurry, now! Foggy grabs the pillowcases to apply pressure to his wrists hoping to staunch the bleeding a little, give his best friend a better chance. It’s as he’s pushing down on Matt’s wrists so hard he’s worried they’ll break that Foggy notices the little scrap of paper resting beside Matt’s hand, soaked in blood. The note is short, in Matt’s terrible handwriting, and Foggy can make it out through the blood.
Foggy – I’m sorry for everything I did to you and Karen. Tell her I’m sorry for me. You deserve so much more and now you’re free of me. I’m sorry and I love you.
Foggy reads it again and again until his tears are too thick to see through. Then he collapses onto Matt and listens to his thin, stuttering heartbeat.
When the EMTs arrive just a few minutes later Foggy is unaware of their presence and they have to pry him away from Matt.
Fill: leave me out with the waste (this is not what I do) 3/?
Also on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6715930
---
“No, no, no, no… Matty what have you done?”
Foggy had gotten no response when he had pounded on the door, his hands shaking so hard he dropped the spare key twice before unlocking the door.
That’s when it hits him. He may not have Matt’s super sense of smell, but the coppery tang of blood is overwhelming. Foggy’s heart tries to leap out of his chest as he races into Matt’s apartment, praying he wasn’t too late.
“Dear God, dear God, fuck…”
Matt’s not in the living room or kitchen and isn’t responding to Foggy’s frantic cries for him. The search through Matt’s tiny apartment doesn’t take long and Foggy finds Matt in a pool of his own blood on those silk sheets he loved.
“Jesus, fuck, Matty!” Foggy could feel tears welling up as the exclamation leaked out, thinking of how Matt should scold him with a quiet, “Language,” and not be lying motionless in an ever growing puddle of blood.
To make things worse, Matt’s lips are turned up in a serene smile, his crucifix clutched tightly in his hand and his glasses set carefully on his bedside table.
It’s only a split second, but to Foggy time stops as he takes in the deep gashes in Matt’s wrists surrounded by a minefield of scabs and scars. How long had this been going on? He sees how pale Matt’s face has gotten, somehow even lighter than he normally was.
A primal cry rips from his throat as he pulls out his cellphone.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
Foggy realizes he’s incoherently sobbing and he has to stop if Matt has any chance of… no, can’t think of that if he wants to stop horrible wailing coming out of him.
“My friend, he slit his wrists, he tried to kill himself,” Foggy manages to get out before shouting Matt’s address for the second time today. Then he pulls Matt’s limp body into his arms.
The operator tries to get useful information out of Foggy after that, but he has nothing to offer. He has no idea how long ago Matt slit his wrists, but he knows that Matt’s losing blood quickly and he feels a little cold and they need to hurry, now! Foggy grabs the pillowcases to apply pressure to his wrists hoping to staunch the bleeding a little, give his best friend a better chance. It’s as he’s pushing down on Matt’s wrists so hard he’s worried they’ll break that Foggy notices the little scrap of paper resting beside Matt’s hand, soaked in blood. The note is short, in Matt’s terrible handwriting, and Foggy can make it out through the blood.
Foggy – I’m sorry for everything I did to you and Karen. Tell her I’m sorry for me. You deserve so much more and now you’re free of me. I’m sorry and I love you.
Foggy reads it again and again until his tears are too thick to see through. Then he collapses onto Matt and listens to his thin, stuttering heartbeat.
When the EMTs arrive just a few minutes later Foggy is unaware of their presence and they have to pry him away from Matt.