She’d be lying if she ever said that this was only getting easier.
Hey, it’s me. We have another court date on Friday. It's been frustrating, the case, I mean— How about a raincheck on that drink we talked about? I’m sure you’re drowning in work too, so whatever works for you. I'll talk to you soon. Take care.
The voicemail was enough to send shivers down her spine, like a thundering shock that she’ll never move on from, much like every other memory she has of him. If she was honest, she’d admit that she was hoping, praying that he’d cancel on her even if it was last minute, just for the hell of it. Maybe it would be much easier than actually talking to him again only to suffer for the rest of her night.
Because she still feels the ache of how she closed the door behind her back, drowning out the sound from beyond the thin walls, hearing the light taps of his cane against the cold floor of her building, letting the reality of it sink in— He’s leaving again.
She remembers the night he first left; Like a fresh wound against the summer breeze, waiting to be just a scar— but time is never fast enough when one is in pain, when one is aching to move on. She wonders if the pain ever goes away from him, even just for a second, when he’s using his fists on something or someone, letting his anger cloud the remnants of a love that’s lost in the shadows. She wonders if he ever wakes up in the middle of the night, seeking the warmth on the other side of the bed only to find it empty and cold, the sheets against his fingertips almost mocking him for not staying that night.
Though she knows that he almost did. He almost stayed.
A part of her wishes that he’d just never call again, maybe just disappear like he once did, to just focus on what mattered to him more. That damned mask felt like a weight when she found out, even if she was just a friend at the time. It felt wrong to watch him from building to building, bleeding for the sake of letting the devil out. She was afraid because he wasn’t, and that was all it took for him to realize that it was wrong of him to kiss her over and over again as a false sense of security, only to tell her that he was wrong about what was between them, and left. Maybe it was for the best, that she could’ve lived without the closure of getting that drink with him months later, after crossing paths with him again at his favorite coffee shop. It was her fault, knowing that he’d be there at nine in the morning to take a cup and walk to the church. She memorized that part of him, that domesticity that was so sacred to him, a routine that she was supposed to be a part of. She remembers the streets that he walked on a daily basis as if he blessed the sidewalks with an inch of his sunlight, his true light, a part of him that’ll never truly fade. No matter how many criminals he has already subdued, or how he claims to have the devil in him, she’ll always see that light in him, bathing the world that didn’t deserve him.
For the most part, she believed in his cause, when the law isn’t enough to incite fear in those who serve injustice to the ones who are considered to be marginalized. She sees his beliefs for what it is; To stand for what’s worth standing up for and to live without fear. She sees every bit of kindness that resides in him when he talks to every person he meets, a client or not, a friend that he's had for years or hours, to every person. She sees every bit of bravery in him, in court when he’s standing up for what's right, or at night when he’s standing up for those who need him. She sees the selflessness that has only made her heart grow fonder of him, even from far away, even when there is no real distance between them at all.
She clutched her phone close to her chest, holding it as if it was the only way she’d ever hold him again, before stepping out of her door to get to work for another Monday.
The morning snowfall felt like a punishment almost, amounting to the times she used to fantasize about what the winter would’ve felt like if they were still together. In a way, she was only hurting herself for the sake of thinking about him. She continued with her boxing lessons, attending once a week for the sake of the boxing part, and not for the hot and flirty instructor. She couldn’t care less about dating anyone if it meant that she’ll always be thinking of him.
She found herself guilty by the time she reached the coffee shop again, sure enough that she’d spot him inside, and she did. By the time she reached the queue, Matt had already received his cup of coffee from the claiming area, surprised by the fact that he didn’t hear her sooner. She decides to call out his name for the sake of not blowing his cover.
“Hi,” He greeted her with a gentle smile, almost apologetic in the early mornings when he knew that he was not his usual self when he hadn't had any coffee yet. “Did you– did you get my voicemail? Sorry.”
She took a breath before responding to him, almost letting out a tremble in her voice. “I did, thank you for letting me know.” She held onto the same civility that she displayed a few nights before, but it was difficult enough to steady the beat of her heart while he was standing right there, with his hair unkempt from the winter breeze outside, and a smile on his lips that she’s known for so long. “I understand, really. Work has been– crazy for me as well. It’s not a big deal. Take your time.”
She watched him as he nodded, one hand gripping his cane as if it was grounding him, the other holding onto the paper cup of his coffee, the warmth of it hopefully pulling him away from the sound of her heart being louder than the rest of the world.
“What about Sunday? I’ll get you a coffee instead, maybe a change of scenery for you, since I can’t—”
“You’re still making blind jokes, Murdock?” She indulged as his smile grew wider.
He chuckled at her remark before deciding to be smug about it. “Well, I uh– I like to make people mildly uncomfortable about it sometimes.”
She laughed along before shaking her head, biting her lip in the process. “That’s horrible.”
He shrugged, a playful smirk evident on his face before replying. “I know.”
She scoffed before brushing him off, chastising herself immediately when she realized that she was letting her guard down. “Just get to work, Murdock.” She lightly scolded before the queue moved, making her walk two steps away from him. He sighed at her before nodding again. “Alright, alright. See you Sunday?” He asked with a hopeful expression on his face, making her heart skip a few beats along the way. Panic began to rise within the confines of her head by knowing that he could hear her.
But she smiled at him like it was nothing. “Don’t be late, then.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
By the time he was out of the door, she found herself gazing through the shop window, forgetting why she was there in the first place. She sighed before deciding just to leave, kindly dismissing the barista who was expecting her to order a drink.
Maybe it was supposed to be easy, to laugh along with his usual jokes and tell him that she understands his work schedule. It was supposed to be easy to come back from work to crash on his couch— his sacred couch that hosted many of his drinking escapades with friends, and maybe pass out with her head on his shoulder only to wake up and realize that everyone else has left except for the two of them. It was supposed to be easy to call him in the mornings, a cup of coffee in her hand and a bag of chicken sandwiches that she could drop off at the firm for him and his colleagues. It was supposed to be easy.
But right now, she’s on her way to work after purposefully seeing him when she’s not supposed to, and she’s still pretending.