Matt Murdock Shorts

Jack Doesn't Die and Matt's Life is Significantly Less Tragic

If children- even young teens- have the capacity for romantic love that we do as adults, it would be safe to say that Matt loved you from the moment he saw you. But sometimes it's hard to distinguish the hormone-driven lust of a 14-year-old boy from the beginnings of love we display as adults. In any case, Matt wanted- needed- to know you.

You had seen Matt from afar since the school year started but never worked up the nerve to talk to him. What would you even say? As of right now, you'd say hello and stand there awkwardly until one of you had enough and walked away. Then one day Matt approached you. You thank God every day that Matt didn't have the foresight you did and dove in head first. Which, as it turned out, ended in him asking you to sit with him at lunch and trying not to facepalm as he walked away. In any case, it was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Through the next year, you started spending more and more time together until the two of you all but forgot anyone else existed. More often than not, you'd go over to Matt's house and forget to call your dad to pick you up. He'd just show up, he and Jack sharing a look of tired acceptance before he came up to get you. More than a few times, they'd find you both on Matt's bed, leaning against the wall- or each other- asleep, forgotten textbooks strewn over the bed. They'd laugh, and Jack would offer your dad a beer.

And that's how it went. Two friends, bonding and forgetting about the rest of the world. Matt studied hard- he's going to be a lawyer- and everything was going to be perfect. Until Matt got hit by a truck. One minute, you were walking home from the library with Matt, the next, his books were falling to the ground and he was sprinting into the street. You barely have time to call out his name before he's pushing an old man out of the way and tires squeal to no avail.

An obvious thought had after the fact:

Seeing your best friend get hit by a truck is not something you'll be able to get out of your mind anytime soon.

As a crowd starts gathering around Matt, it's your turn to drop your things and sprint into the street. Your heart pounds out of your chest as you push your way through the crowd. The pit in your stomach only gets deeper with each step. When you see him, the pit shrinks to a small valley. He's alive; as demonstrated by his heaving chest and withering body. Then you realize that those aren't good signs. The pit deepens. As you draw nearer, the couple people at his side start to tell you to back off, but you ignore them. The only thing you can force out is a mantra of Matt's name. It's not until he responds, forcing out your name, that you realize you're the one who needs to get their shit together right now. You can lose it later. So you take a couple deep breaths and turn to the woman beside you.

"Did you call an ambulance?"

"Yeah, they're on their way."

"Thank you." You turn back to Matt and notice the large droplets of liquid on his face.

"God, it stings." He breathes out, bringing his hands up to his face.

A quick scan of the area tells you that if the barrels of chemicals spilling onto the asphalt are anything to go by, he needs immediate help.

"Matt, move your hands." You command. When he does as you told him, you take your shirt and start wiping away whatever you can.

"Y/n, please-" He doesn't know if he's asking you to stop or to stay with him. All he knows is that this has all become too chaotic too fast.

Matt's cries have simmered down to quiet murmurs as he pushes at your arms. You sit back at his prodding, not wanting to be any factor in his suffering. He starts to breathe normally again after you give him some space, but his calm is gone as soon as it appeared. When he says your name, it's panic stricken. Then he's blinking, and fumbling for your hand. "Y/n, I- I can't see. I can't see."