It’s funny — if Matt had said these things to him two years ago, before Jack knew he was the man in the mask and before he knew who he was sent to kill, he probably would have laughed it off. “ It didn’t used to bother me — all of that. They saved my life, didn’t they? Dad would’ve killed me, eventually. At least here I wasn’t useless. I was good for something. I never thought about the people I killed. I never wondered who they were because it didn’t matter. ” He does laugh then — a little hysterical, mostly tired. Jack lets Matt take the cigarette from his fingers, hands beginning to shake again.
“ I kind of feel like I should hate you for that, ” he admits. “ Because none of this bothered me until you came along and now—” He rubs his face for a moment, then turns to watch the city lights. From here he can see the cars drifting along the streets, the distant twinkle of neon signs and windows. He finds it soothing on nights he can’t sleep. He lets Matt wrap an arm around him and lays a head against his shoulder. “ I guess it’s a good thing I’m not Catholic, ” he manages finally. “ Think I’m still definitely going to hell someday, though. ”
He hates this, having to confront everything. He could have gone his entire life not questioning who he was or what he had been doing this entire time if Matt hadn’t shown up and ruined everything. He could have lived out the rest of his days seeing his life as perfectly fine and normal. Now it’s like someone’s taken a hammer to that wall around him and he can make out something through the cracks.
He’s never slept well, but he sleeps less now than he used to.
“You’re allowed to hate me, you know...” Matthew murmured as he turned to press his lips into Jack’s hair, inhaling the honeyed scent of him, the warmth copper and zinc, and hints of shampoo and sweat. “I won’t blame you for hating me.” his words were muffled by the crown of Jack’s head. In a way, Matt felt as if he were partly to blame for Jack’s mess now. Two years ago, everything Jack knew (and now it made sense) was turned upside down. Two years ago, without so much as a warning, he and Jack went from lovers to enemies to strangers as they went separate ways faster than the wind could hit their sails.
Matt regretted every second of it. Jack was doing what he was told to do, trained to do. Matt was a threat, everyone believed it at the time -- Daredevil was dangerous.
“It’s okay, I’m Catholic enough for the both of us. And if you go to hell, that’s okay, I’m the devil,” A smirk crossed his lips as he pushed another kiss into the crown of his head. He can still feel the air around Jack’s hands trembling, his hands shaking. Matt takes his hand into his own and kisses his knuckles gently, the smell of nicotine still on his fingers.
“Want to do something for me?” He asked, turning to just lean against him. Maybe if he can take his mind off of things, he’d tremble a little less, “Tell me what the night sky looks like? Like. The skyline...the stars if we can see any....be my eyes for me?”
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