really brief mention of attempted sexual coercion in this part, but it's very minor.
Matt goes underneath the little bed at the corner of the room. He rifles underneath, and pulls out an old cardboard shoe box. He stands up and walks over to the end of his bed. He then sits on the floor, cross-legged.
"Sit down next to me," Matt says, quietly.
Frank sits down, watching as the younger boy opens up the box. He takes out a picture. It's a glossy, professional-grade picture of a man - a boxer, obviously. He hands it over to Frank, and Frank takes it.
"I know it's silly to keep this, since I can't see it," Matt admits, a faint redness crossing his face. "But, you can, so I guess that's something. This is my dad."
"Battlin' Jack Murdock," Frank says out loud, reading the caption underneath the photograph. "Was he famous?"
"Sort of. I mean, he lost - a lot. He still had people who were big fans, of course. I was a big fan..."
"You said that he was murdered," Frank murmurs, quietly. He doesn't really know how to bring up things that are delicate, but he cares about Matt, so he tries his best to be sensitive. "Who murders some random boxer?"
"He was involved with bad people," Matt murmurs, sadness in his expression that's just downright heartbreaking. "Mob type people. They wanted him to throw this fight..."
"He didn't."
"No," Matt murmurs, looking down at the box. Inside is everything that he has of his father's, just a few little odds and ends. He picks out a gold ring and turns it over in his hand. "He won. It was one of the best fights I'd ever heard."
Matt lowers his head. The glasses prevent Frank from seeing for sure, but he's pretty sure the kid is crying. It takes a lot for a pre-teen boy to open up and cry in front of someone, but Frank's not about to make fun of him.
"He didn't give up," Frank says, trying to be encouraging, even though he secretly thinks that Matt's father was an idiot. From what Matt was saying, he sounded like he knew he'd get killed if he didn't throw the fight. Doing that to a kid seemed like a shitty thing to do. "He didn't give up on being the best he could be. That's really brave."
"He's my hero, because of all of that," Matt murmurs, shrugging his shoulder. "Do you and your parents get along?"
"We get on okay, sometimes," Frank replies, feeling awkward. He knows that he's lucky to even have parents. "I mean, we fight a lot, especially when I do things like I did with those assholes from earlier. They don't exactly approve of the whole 'solving things with violence' thing."
"I don't think many parents would," Matt says with a nod. "Do you get into fights a lot, Frank?"
Frank thinks about how to answer this. It's hard to say, honestly. One person's version of 'a lot' was different than another's.
"I do sometimes," he says, deciding that is the best answer that he can give. "I mean, I try not to, because getting in trouble sucks, but there are times - like with what happened to you - that I can't exactly help it. It's like...I have to."
"I think you're really brave," Matt says, quietly. He looks down at his hands, but Frank knows that he's not really looking exactly, because he can't. "I think that you're really brave, but it kind of worries me that you could get hurt really badly."
"I won't get hurt," Frank says, insistently. "I promise."
"That's a stupid promise," Matt replies. "My dad used to say: 'if you put yourself in the ring, then you're bound to get hurt.' He was talking about boxing, literally, but there's a deeper meaning there that would make my English teacher proud."
That makes Frank laugh.
"Yeah, I guess your old man had a point," he admits, stretching.
"Have you ever been hurt in a fight?" Matt asks.
"Once or twice," Frank admits. "The last time, this big guy broke my nose."
"What did he do?"
"He was messing with his girlfriend," Frank admits. "They're both seniors. He was trying to get her to...do stuff, that she didn't want to do."
"It's okay, I get what you mean," Matt laughs. "I'm twelve, not two, okay? And that's sick. I'm really glad that you took care of him. You're really good at protecting people who need protecting. You're like a superhero or something like that."
"I could never pull off the suit," Frank says, trying to make light of Matt's words. Even as he tries to make light of them, though, he has to admit to what they mean to him.
Fic - Those Who Deserve It - 5/6 - Frank&Matt friendship - teenage AU
Matt goes underneath the little bed at the corner of the room. He rifles underneath, and pulls out an old cardboard shoe box. He stands up and walks over to the end of his bed. He then sits on the floor, cross-legged.
"Sit down next to me," Matt says, quietly.
Frank sits down, watching as the younger boy opens up the box. He takes out a picture. It's a glossy, professional-grade picture of a man - a boxer, obviously. He hands it over to Frank, and Frank takes it.
"I know it's silly to keep this, since I can't see it," Matt admits, a faint redness crossing his face. "But, you can, so I guess that's something. This is my dad."
"Battlin' Jack Murdock," Frank says out loud, reading the caption underneath the photograph. "Was he famous?"
"Sort of. I mean, he lost - a lot. He still had people who were big fans, of course. I was a big fan..."
"You said that he was murdered," Frank murmurs, quietly. He doesn't really know how to bring up things that are delicate, but he cares about Matt, so he tries his best to be sensitive. "Who murders some random boxer?"
"He was involved with bad people," Matt murmurs, sadness in his expression that's just downright heartbreaking. "Mob type people. They wanted him to throw this fight..."
"He didn't."
"No," Matt murmurs, looking down at the box. Inside is everything that he has of his father's, just a few little odds and ends. He picks out a gold ring and turns it over in his hand. "He won. It was one of the best fights I'd ever heard."
Matt lowers his head. The glasses prevent Frank from seeing for sure, but he's pretty sure the kid is crying. It takes a lot for a pre-teen boy to open up and cry in front of someone, but Frank's not about to make fun of him.
"He didn't give up," Frank says, trying to be encouraging, even though he secretly thinks that Matt's father was an idiot. From what Matt was saying, he sounded like he knew he'd get killed if he didn't throw the fight. Doing that to a kid seemed like a shitty thing to do. "He didn't give up on being the best he could be. That's really brave."
"He's my hero, because of all of that," Matt murmurs, shrugging his shoulder. "Do you and your parents get along?"
"We get on okay, sometimes," Frank replies, feeling awkward. He knows that he's lucky to even have parents. "I mean, we fight a lot, especially when I do things like I did with those assholes from earlier. They don't exactly approve of the whole 'solving things with violence' thing."
"I don't think many parents would," Matt says with a nod. "Do you get into fights a lot, Frank?"
Frank thinks about how to answer this. It's hard to say, honestly. One person's version of 'a lot' was different than another's.
"I do sometimes," he says, deciding that is the best answer that he can give. "I mean, I try not to, because getting in trouble sucks, but there are times - like with what happened to you - that I can't exactly help it. It's like...I have to."
"I think you're really brave," Matt says, quietly. He looks down at his hands, but Frank knows that he's not really looking exactly, because he can't. "I think that you're really brave, but it kind of worries me that you could get hurt really badly."
"I won't get hurt," Frank says, insistently. "I promise."
"That's a stupid promise," Matt replies. "My dad used to say: 'if you put yourself in the ring, then you're bound to get hurt.' He was talking about boxing, literally, but there's a deeper meaning there that would make my English teacher proud."
That makes Frank laugh.
"Yeah, I guess your old man had a point," he admits, stretching.
"Have you ever been hurt in a fight?" Matt asks.
"Once or twice," Frank admits. "The last time, this big guy broke my nose."
"What did he do?"
"He was messing with his girlfriend," Frank admits. "They're both seniors. He was trying to get her to...do stuff, that she didn't want to do."
"It's okay, I get what you mean," Matt laughs. "I'm twelve, not two, okay? And that's sick. I'm really glad that you took care of him. You're really good at protecting people who need protecting. You're like a superhero or something like that."
"I could never pull off the suit," Frank says, trying to make light of Matt's words. Even as he tries to make light of them, though, he has to admit to what they mean to him.