Matt twists his hands. Franks voice is level, but his vitals are all over the place, and Matt doesn't know what to think about it.
Still, there's only one answer. "Everyone."
Franks heart and lungs do something funny. "Everyone?"
He doesn't want to admit this. That doesn't matter though. He shrugs. "Everyone I've ever been with," he clarifies. "You wouldn't be the first. I can take it."
Maybe that's the problem, though. Maybe that's why Frank's asking. Tom had been like that – he always said, Who wants a boyfriend that's used? Tom was always beligerent about that. Matt can't really fault him him for that; he doesn't know an answer that doesn't condemn him. He couldn't fault Frank either, if he wanted a virginal canvas.
"Tell me their names."
Oh. Oh, no. Matt's going to draw the line here. It's one thing to drop a boyfriend for not being a virgin. It's another to go on a killing spree erasing all your predecessors to feel like you're first all over again. Frank's just going to have to settle for being especially brutal.
"I don't remember," he tells him stubbornly.
He tenses, expecting a hit.
(He relaxes his muscles just as quickly. Experience taught him a long time ago that the damage is far worse when his body doesn't give to the momentum.)
(He doesn't always have the luxury of doing this in combat. But here, he can.)
(Probably.)
"You don't remember. Red, you do remember. Tell me their names.)
He can't. He won't.
"I don't remember."
"You do. You do, Red, and those bastards don't deserve to live a second more that they already did. They deserve to pay interest on every hour between now and then, because I would have killed them the moment they raised a hand on you. Tell me."
Matt keeps himself from reaching behind and grabbing the bedsheets into fists with the last shred of will. Red. Frank keeps calling him that, Red, Daredevil. And he is. The press calls him the man without fear.
Fill: Post S1 Frank/Matt, Matt's abusive ex - part 3
"Tell me who did this to you."
Matt twists his hands. Franks voice is level, but his vitals are all over the place, and Matt doesn't know what to think about it.
Still, there's only one answer. "Everyone."
Franks heart and lungs do something funny. "Everyone?"
He doesn't want to admit this. That doesn't matter though. He shrugs. "Everyone I've ever been with," he clarifies. "You wouldn't be the first. I can take it."
Maybe that's the problem, though. Maybe that's why Frank's asking. Tom had been like that – he always said, Who wants a boyfriend that's used? Tom was always beligerent about that. Matt can't really fault him him for that; he doesn't know an answer that doesn't condemn him. He couldn't fault Frank either, if he wanted a virginal canvas.
"Tell me their names."
Oh. Oh, no. Matt's going to draw the line here. It's one thing to drop a boyfriend for not being a virgin. It's another to go on a killing spree erasing all your predecessors to feel like you're first all over again. Frank's just going to have to settle for being especially brutal.
"I don't remember," he tells him stubbornly.
He tenses, expecting a hit.
(He relaxes his muscles just as quickly. Experience taught him a long time ago that the damage is far worse when his body doesn't give to the momentum.)
(He doesn't always have the luxury of doing this in combat. But here, he can.)
(Probably.)
"You don't remember. Red, you do remember. Tell me their names.)
He can't. He won't.
"I don't remember."
"You do. You do, Red, and those bastards don't deserve to live a second more that they already did. They deserve to pay interest on every hour between now and then, because I would have killed them the moment they raised a hand on you. Tell me."
Matt keeps himself from reaching behind and grabbing the bedsheets into fists with the last shred of will. Red. Frank keeps calling him that, Red, Daredevil. And he is. The press calls him the man without fear.
He closes his eyes.
"No."