The morning sun shines through the open window, the thin fabric of the curtains doing little to protect Foggy’s eyes from the glare. He had not pulled the shade when he came in last night, and Matt would not have bothered before he went to bed, as it’s all the same to him. He sat up in bed and rubbed the dried crud from his eyes and blinked a bit. On the bedside table he found a tall glass of water, two Tylenol Rapid-Release capsules and a banana.
Foggy took the medicine and drank half the glass of water before laying back down again with his back to the window. He’d had the oddest dream. There were two of them. Two Matts. One spoke with a slight New York accent. They had a brief whispered argument by the door before ducking out this morning.
In the dream, the Matt who had been sleeping in the other bed had been insisting that the other Matt was going to have to help him fix the mess he’d made out of his clothes. He also wanted to know what the hell he was wearing this morning and how bad the damage was.
The mess-making Matt grinned before reaching out and roughing up roomie-Matt’s hair. “Don’t worry, you’re still handsome as me, Matty.” Roomie-Matt swats his hand away and insists that mess-making Matt is buying breakfast. “Sure, Matty, I’ll just wait until after I pay to give you back your wallet…” And with that, they wandered away.
Weird. He had also dreamed that there had been two Matts at the bar last night. Preposterous. Foggy pulls the covers back up over his head and drifts back to sleep.
***
Mike decided to take Matt to the local waffle house by St. Agnes. Their father used to bring them there after church sometimes. He offered to read the menu to Matt, but his brother waved him off with a smile.
“This is nice, Mike.”
His brother has been grinning from ear-to-ear, for all he knows that Matty has some good reasons to be angry with him. Mike feels the guilt hit him hard, like a knife twisting in his gut.
“Yeah. It’s funny. I can picture Dad here. Like he’s just gone to the can or went up to the counter to talk to the waitress or something.” He sighs. “Sorry.”
“What, no… It’s the same way for me. I like it.”
“He’d be proud of you. At least one of his sons learned to use his head and not his fists.”
“Mike… He’d be proud of you, too. Honestly, of the two of us, you probably take after him more.”
Mike looks down at his hands and grips his coffee cup. “Maybe.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You deserve happiness, Mike. Really.”
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timeasmymeasure
Re: Where Matt has a real identical twin named Mike who is sighted and is Daredevil
Date: 2016-05-18 05:35 am (UTC)Foggy took the medicine and drank half the glass of water before laying back down again with his back to the window. He’d had the oddest dream. There were two of them. Two Matts. One spoke with a slight New York accent. They had a brief whispered argument by the door before ducking out this morning.
In the dream, the Matt who had been sleeping in the other bed had been insisting that the other Matt was going to have to help him fix the mess he’d made out of his clothes. He also wanted to know what the hell he was wearing this morning and how bad the damage was.
The mess-making Matt grinned before reaching out and roughing up roomie-Matt’s hair. “Don’t worry, you’re still handsome as me, Matty.” Roomie-Matt swats his hand away and insists that mess-making Matt is buying breakfast. “Sure, Matty, I’ll just wait until after I pay to give you back your wallet…” And with that, they wandered away.
Weird. He had also dreamed that there had been two Matts at the bar last night. Preposterous. Foggy pulls the covers back up over his head and drifts back to sleep.
***
Mike decided to take Matt to the local waffle house by St. Agnes. Their father used to bring them there after church sometimes. He offered to read the menu to Matt, but his brother waved him off with a smile.
“This is nice, Mike.”
His brother has been grinning from ear-to-ear, for all he knows that Matty has some good reasons to be angry with him. Mike feels the guilt hit him hard, like a knife twisting in his gut.
“Yeah. It’s funny. I can picture Dad here. Like he’s just gone to the can or went up to the counter to talk to the waitress or something.” He sighs. “Sorry.”
“What, no… It’s the same way for me. I like it.”
“He’d be proud of you. At least one of his sons learned to use his head and not his fists.”
“Mike… He’d be proud of you, too. Honestly, of the two of us, you probably take after him more.”
Mike looks down at his hands and grips his coffee cup. “Maybe.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You deserve happiness, Mike. Really.”