Tonight was movie night, a cherished ritual among the Avengers, filled with laughter, camaraderie, and the shared joy of storytelling. This time, they had invited Matt Murdock, known to the world as Daredevil, a recent ally who had quickly become a respected part of their team.
In the expansive living room, Tony Stark, ever the charismatic mastermind, was in full preparation mode. He flitted about, adjusting the lighting, calibrating the surround sound system, and arranging an impressive spread of snacks on the coffee table. Popcorn glistened with melted butter, nachos lay beside bowls of spicy salsa, and an array of colorful candies beckoned with sugary promises. The atmosphere was vibrant, filled with the intoxicating scent of snacks mixed with the excitement of shared anticipation.
“Okay, everyone! Get ready for an epic night!” Tony exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He glanced over his shoulder at Natasha, who leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
“Just make sure you don’t hog all the snacks this time, Stark,” she teased, rolling her eyes. “We all want a chance to enjoy the food.”
“Oh, come on! You know I only take what I need to fuel my genius!” Tony shot back with a grin, his trademark bravado lighting up the room.
As the doorbell chimed, Tony dashed to open it, revealing Matt Murdock standing at the threshold. Dressed in a dark t-shirt and jeans, Matt exuded a calm confidence that masked the nerves swirling inside him. “Hey, everyone! Thanks for having me over,” he said, offering a friendly smile, even as he felt a flicker of apprehension.
“Welcome! Come on in!” Tony beckoned, ushering him inside. As Matt stepped over the threshold, he inhaled the warm air infused with the tantalizing scents of the snacks. The laughter and chatter wrapped around him like a comforting blanket, but beneath that comfort lay the ever-present weight of his secret—his blindness, a fact he had yet to reveal to his new friends.
“Hope you’re ready for a good time!” Clint Barton called from the couch, his playful demeanor evident. “Just don’t blame us if we go a little crazy with the movie choices.”
“Challenge accepted,” Matt replied, trying to project a sense of ease, though a part of him remained on edge. As they all gathered around the plush couches, the evening unfolded with laughter, friendly banter, and stories shared over dinner. Matt listened intently, his senses heightened as he absorbed the vibrant atmosphere. The sounds of voices, the clinking of plates, and the occasional burst of laughter created a backdrop of warmth and companionship.
But as the conversation shifted toward the movie choices, Matt felt a familiar twinge of discomfort. “What about The Avengers: Endgame?” Steve Rogers suggested, his voice laced with enthusiasm, his blue eyes sparkling with anticipation.
“Oh, we just watched that last week!” Natasha exclaimed, a hint of exasperation coloring her tone. “Let’s pick something new!”
After tossing around several ideas, they eventually settled on a superhero flick that promised to be action-packed. Tony clapped his hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. “All right, folks! Let’s get this show on the road!”
As the movie began, the screen flickered to life, and Matt shifted in his seat, trying to find a comfortable position. He focused on the sounds—the dialogue, the explosions, the music. It was all part of the experience, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider. Movies were a visual medium, and for someone who couldn’t see, they felt alienating.
As the film progressed, however, the pressure in Matt’s bladder began to mount. It started as a subtle reminder, a gentle nudge that quickly escalated into a more urgent call for attention. He fidgeted in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs, trying to distract himself. The Avengers were engrossed in the film, laughing at jokes he could only imagine, their enjoyment palpable. But with each passing moment, the urgency became harder to ignore.
He glanced around, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks. How could he bring it up without drawing attention to himself? After what felt like an eternity, he finally decided he had to ask. “Uh, guys?” he started, his voice barely rising above the sounds of the movie.
Tony was completely focused on the screen, a grin plastered on his face. “What? Can’t hear you over the explosions!”
Feeling a surge of embarrassment, Matt cleared his throat again, louder this time. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“Oh! I got this,” Tony replied, finally breaking his focus. “JARVIS, can you guide Matt to the restroom?”
“Of course, sir,” came the cool, calm voice of JARVIS, echoing through the room. “Matt, please follow my voice to the left and proceed straight ahead.”
Grateful for the assistance, Matt stood up, his heart racing with the pressure of his need. He took a tentative step forward, following JARVIS’s instructions. As he walked, he reached out, feeling for the edges of furniture to help guide him. The room was spacious, and he could hear the muffled sounds of the movie behind him, laughter and action mixing together, amplifying his sense of isolation.
“Left… and straight ahead,” he whispered under his breath, trying to focus on JARVIS’s voice. But as he stepped further into the hallway, the cool air brushed against him, and the soft carpet felt plush underfoot. He tried to visualize the layout of the Tower—he had been here a few times before, but the vastness often left him disoriented. He took another cautious step, then another, letting the walls guide him.
“JARVIS?” he called, his voice a bit more urgent now. “Which way?”
“Please continue straight,” JARVIS replied, his tone unwavering. But just as Matt felt a flicker of hope, the voice fell silent, leaving him standing alone in the darkened corridor.
“JARVIS?” Panic gripped him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He had to think.
Matt’s mind raced as he focused on the sounds around him. He could hear the faint rustling of fabric as the Avengers shifted in their seats, the muffled sounds of the movie still echoing from the living room. The pressure in his bladder intensified, and he crossed his legs, a subtle attempt to contain it. He needed to move, but where? The hallway seemed endless, an expanse of uncertainty stretching before him.
“Okay, think,” he murmured to himself, trying to calm the rising tide of anxiety. “Just remember the layout.”
He took another cautious step forward, reaching out with his hand. The wall felt solid beneath his fingers, smooth and cool. He turned slightly, hoping to catch a glimpse of the door frame he was sure led to the bathroom. But instead, he felt nothing but emptiness, an echoing void that heightened his discomfort.
The pressure was becoming unbearable, and he found himself dancing on the spot, a frantic wiggle as he tried to regain control. He clenched his jaw, feeling the warmth of embarrassment creep up his neck. This isn’t happening, he thought, panic rising in his chest. He could almost hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, drowning out the sounds of the movie, the laughter that once felt comforting now a distant reminder of how lost he truly was.
“Come on, come on…” he muttered, pressing his back against the wall, feeling the cool surface against his skin. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to focus. He needed to find that bathroom. There had to be a sign, an indication of where he was going.
In that moment of desperation, he let go of the wall and took another step forward, listening intently. The air shifted slightly, and he caught the faintest hint of a smell—a clean, antiseptic scent. His senses sharpened; he turned toward the smell, moving toward it as if it would guide him. He took a cautious step, then another, hoping beyond hope that it would lead him to relief.
But as he advanced, the pressure surged again, an undeniable wave that left him breathless. He pressed his legs together, the urgency spiking higher and higher, panic clawing at the edges of his mind. Why isn’t anyone noticing I’m gone?
“Guys!” he called out, his voice a mix of frustration and desperation. “I really need help!”
The only response was the faint echo of laughter from the living room, an insistent reminder that he was utterly alone in this moment. His heart raced as he stood in the darkness, feeling utterly exposed. Just then, he heard the soft sound of footsteps approaching—thank goodness!
“Matt? You okay?” Natasha’s voice cut through the air, a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.
“I can’t find the bathroom!” he admitted, his voice tinged with panic. “JARVIS stopped talking, and I’m—”
Just as he was about to finish, he felt a warm trickle run down his leg, a mortifying realization hitting him like a cold wave. “No, no, no!” he muttered, trying to stop it, but it was too late.
The warmth spread, and he stood frozen in place, the feeling of humiliation crashing over him like a tidal wave. He felt utterly exposed, completely defeated in that moment. A rush of panic surged through him as he stood in the middle of the hallway, the reality of what had just happened sinking in.
Matt's heart sank further as he heard the door to the living room swing open again, and Thor stepped out, his brow furrowed in confusion as he caught sight of Matt standing motionless, clearly distressed. “Matt? What are you doing? Are you okay?” Thor’s voice was filled with concern.
Matt felt the heat of their gazes on him, a mix of concern and confusion swirling around the room. “I—I was trying to find the bathroom.” The admission came out as a whisper, the weight of his shame heavy in the air.
The rest of the Avengers, hearing Thor’s voice, emerged from the living room, their expressions shifting from confusion to realization as they registered the situation.
“What happened?” Steve asked, his blue eyes widening as he took in Matt’s distressed state.
Matt felt the heat rising in his cheeks, and he stammered, “I didn’t make it.” The words barely escaped his lips. The humiliation was suffocating, and he wanted nothing more than to disappear.
Tony’s expression morphed from confusion to understanding, and he stepped forward, concern etched on his face. “Matt, I’m so sorry! I thought JARVIS was guiding you. I didn’t realize he stopped talking.”
“Yeah, sorry about that, buddy,” Clint added, his voice now tinged with genuine sympathy rather than his usual teasing tone.
Thor looked at Matt with kindness in his eyes, his massive frame somehow conveying warmth. “Fear not, friend! Accidents happen to the best of us.”
Matt felt a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude for their understanding. “I—I didn’t mean to cause a scene,” he managed to say, his voice trembling slightly.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, Matt,” Natasha said gently, her voice soothing. “We’ll take care of it.”
As they helped him, Matt couldn’t shake the feeling of vulnerability. He had fought alongside these heroes, faced dangers that would make most people tremble, yet here he was, completely exposed in a way he had never imagined.
While they ushered him to a nearby bathroom, Matt’s mind was racing. He could feel the humiliation settling in, but beneath it all was a nagging thought that he could no longer ignore: it was time to share his truth.
“Guys,” he began hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper as they entered the bathroom. “I should have told you sooner, but I’m blind.”