Chapter 2
Sometimes Matt wonders what he had done to deserve the amount of love that Foggy has for him. Had he been particularly helpful in his past life? He feels the weight of Foggy’s eyes on him, and startles when he feels a hand on his back.
“Alright, Matt?”
It seems Foggy has a sixth-sense for when Matt is feeling particularly self-hating, a need to save Matt from going back into the deep end of his depression.
He wasn’t particularly fun when he was in one of his episodes. Back in college he’d gone from a straight-A student to missing all his lectures and barely scraping passes because of one. It was - once again - Foggy who had noticed Matt wasn’t doing too hot and had spoken to his professors for him.
It was then that Matt had been made to go to therapy once a week. At first, he hated it, hated Foggy for making him go, hating himself for being unable to say no to him. The sessions were almost radio silent except for the therapist’s periodic sighs.
Until one day she suggested that Matt bring Foggy with him. He couldn’t really stay silent while Foggy was there - he hated to see him look disappointed, and if it was directed at him he wouldn’t survive it.
So, Matt began to speak to his therapist. Her name was Jess. She specialised with “cases like his” apparently - meaning everybody thought he was about to off himself.
Foggy would chime in sometimes, but other than his anecdotes, it was mostly Matt talking.
Matt had never thought of his childhood as “traumatic” or even the cause of his episodes, but clearly his therapist thought they contributed, because she pressed for more information anytime Matt mentioned Stick or his dad’s death - and grabbed her pencil, noting things down on her small yellow notepad.
Once, after a meeting, Matt had gone to grab Foggy a snack from the vending machine, both of them having missed lunch and therefore extremely hungry, and realised Foggy and his therapist were still talking when he heard their voices together in the corridor.
At first he felt anger - who was Foggy to talk about him behind his back, why would he-? But then Foggy had noticed him and grabbed at his arm, a determined look plastered on his face.
“Matt, Jess thinks that you should be diagnosed.”
A beat.
“Sorry, what? Diagnosed? For what..?” Matt starts, his voice confused, waiting for somebody to explain what the hell they thought was wrong with him this time.
“She thinks you’re on the Autism spectrum, and well..”
“Well, what? You agree?”
“I mean, yeah, Matt listen, you have meltdowns, you scratch at yourself almost constantly, you rock back and forth to soothe yourself - you’re doing it right now.” Foggy begins to list things.
“I.. I don’t know,” Matt’s voice wavers, unable to deny the evidence presented to him factually.
“Listen, nothing is confirmed just yet, yeah? We’ll go see, and maybe then life will become easier for you. I love you and all I want is the best for you.”
Matt feels a lump in the back of his throat, his eyes stinging.
“Okay.”
And well, Foggy - as usual - had been right. Matt was autistic. Honestly, being diagnosed at first made things a lot harder, now hyper aware anytime he did something, trying to train it out of himself.
But Foggy caught onto this quickly and had stopped it pretty much immediately.
“Matt, hey?
Matt stopped his rocking back and forth with an abruptness that could only be contributed to Foggy’s presence.
“Oh, I just wanted to ask if you wanted takeout, you don’t have to stop-“
“Uh, yeah, sure.” Matt answers.
“Yeah to the takeout? Listen, I just want you to know that nothing has to change now, okay? I want you to be yourself - but more comfortable.”
Foggy’s face softens as Matt looks confused.
“I mean to your diagnosis - it changes nothing, alright?”
As if to prove this fact to him, Foggy comes home with the takeout, and another bag in his other hand.
“What’s that?” Matt asks, curious.
“A gift. For you. Listen, if you don’t like it it’s alright-“
Matt grabs the bag from him promptly, vowing to like it even if Foggy had brought him a jar full of worms.
It was a pair of noise cancelling headphones.
Matt was quiet for a few seconds, Foggy looking like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.
“Jesus, how much was this? Foggy, it must’ve cost you a fortune-!” Matt starts, touching it with a look of reverence in his eyes.
“Well, they were doing a sale and I thought you might like them considering how many ear plugs you buy each semester, do you like them?”
Matt puts them on and almost immediately he feels complete.
It’s silent. No horrible buzzing coming from quiet corners, no drunk students in the hallways, no ringing in his ears-
“It’s- it’s great! Foggy, God, Foggy I-“
Matt presses his lips to Foggy’s, his joy manifesting itself into pure adrenaline.
They break apart after a few moments, and Matt lets out an uncharacteristic giggle. Foggy sighs in relief.
“Well, I take it you like them.”