soft | murdock

11

I blink a couple times, feeling the side of my face pressed up against a stocky, shirtless chest. Sitting up, I look and see Matt's face against the cushion of my couch. His eyes are closed, signaling that he's still sleeping, his mouth hanging slightly open. One of his arms is hanging off of the couch, his supple bicep flexing slightly as he shifts around. 

His other arm is still wrapped around my waist, fingers curling around my hip bone and muscles pressing against my lower stomach. I decide to lay there for a while, he's warm, I can hear his heartbeat, and his chest rises and lowers with every breath he takes. 

My legs are tangled with his and he's still deep in sleep as I nestle my head into the crook of his neck. If anyone were to walk into the room right now, they'd think that we're dating, had sex last night, or both. Fortunately for them, I remembered to lock my front door and close my windows. 

Matt's still sleeping peacefully, while I'm getting restless laying there on his chest. I try to move out of his grasp, but his grip only tightens on my waist. After a while, I give up and sigh, pressing my cheek against his chest. 

Fifteen minutes later, Matt starts stirring like he's going to wake up. I take my chance to squirm out of his arm, but I move a little bit too much start falling off of the couch before Matt's large hands grab my waist, keeping me from face-planting on the ground. He pulls me up and back onto the couch, sitting us up. 

"You alright there?" he asks, his morning voice raspy and lower than usual. He raises his eyebrows curiously. 

"Yeah. Thanks," I say nervously, standing up and pulling my shirt down, hoping the material would stretch past my upper thigh. I walk to the kitchen and pour myself a cup of water. 

He sits on the couch, cocking his head to the side. 

"What do you want for breakfast?" I say after a long gulp of water.

"What do you have for me?" he asks, turning around and resting his chin against the back of the couch. 

"I can make a mean grilled cheese," I say, walking over the fridge and making sure that I have cheese.

"That sounds good," he says, standing up himself and walking to the bathroom. He's still a little stiff, but he's not limping as much as before. 

I worry about him sometimes. I start cooking breakfast, turning on the stove and spreading butter on the bread when I hear the shower turn on. Oh yeah, I kind of just fell asleep on Matt last night after having a nightmare. 

I shrug to myself as I flip the piece of bread over, feeling content as I see the golden brown color that symbolizes correct cooking. 

I finish the second sandwich as Matt stumbles back into the room. He's removed the pieces of gauze, but his stitches are still intact. A towel hangs on his waist as he walks over to the couch, putting on the black Champion hoodie that I left out for him before. He cringes with every small movement, his hair spiky and damp as he sits down at the dining table. 

I pour him a cup of water and put one of the sandwiches in front of him. He sits, looking perplexed, before he takes a satisfied bite. I sit down across from him and dig into my own sandwich. 

"Thank you for comforting me last night," I finally say after a few moments of awkward chewing. 

"That was nothing," he replies. "Do you still not want to talk about it?"

"It's probably fine now. Besides, you probably have the general idea what it's about," I say sheepishly, pushing my sandwich around aimlessly on my plate. He looks at me expectantly, putting his sandwich down as well.

"When I was 20 years old, I was raped," I say brazenly. I examine Matt's face for any source of emotion, but am slightly surprised when I see none. There's no rise of the eyebrow, no gulp, no nothing. There's no trace of anything. 

"I was very drunk and my choice of clothing didn't necessarily help that night. Eddie was God knows where, and I still had classes the next day." He just sat there, listening to every word I said, and licking his lips every once in a while, a habit I found endearing.

"I remember it like it was yesterday. I can still feel the cold chill of the alleyway, his repulsive breath against my neck, his calloused fingers against my skin," I continued, tears welling up in my eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment. 

"It also didn't help that the boyfriend I would end up having in a couple months would hit me," I said, only weakening my already shattering demeanor. 

"Stop," Matt says curtly, standing up and pushing his chair out from under him. For a split second, I recoil in fear as he towers over me. 

He rushes over to my side and envelops me in a soft hug. His huge frame wraps around mine like I'm nothing, his arms bulging against my shoulders and the small of my back. I snuggle into his Champion hoodie, finding refuge in its silky fibers. He rubs his hands against my body, ridding the pathetic shuddering emitting from my tiny body. 

He holds me for a while, until I calm myself down. My pitiful sobs eventual dissolve into mocking tears, pressing themselves against his hoodie. I sit there and let the last of my tears take care of themselves. 

_

Author's Note: Don't forget to vote! I appreciate all the support for this story :) Things are going to happen soon, so stay tuned!