A knock, incessant. Matt laid splayed on his couch. He hadn't left his apartment in three days, and hadn't changed his shirt in two. The only people who cared about him were gone; his best friend, dead, and Karen, refusing to talk to him.
He didn't remember ordering food, but figured he must've. He got up with a groan and walked towards the door, listening for the heartbeat on the other side. The one he heard wasn't Fisks, and that's all he cared about. He swung the door open.
"Who is it," he said, no emotion in his voice.
"Damn."
His head shot up towards the sound. What the--
"Jessica?" She watched us his head cocked to the side, his eyes widening briefly before his gaze shifted from side to side, his eyes remaining unfocused. His shirt was wrinkled and stained with ketchup.
"you look like shit."
"I don't have time for whatever you're here about right now," he said, motioning to close the door. She put her hand on the rim to stop it from closing.
"I'm here to check on you, asshole. I heard about what happened."
Mat opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. He hesitated, bowing his head.
"I'm coming in, OK?" Before he had a chance to reply she was pushing past him into his apartment. Matt was too exhausted to fight her on it, and closed the door behind her.