Chapter Text
There was no way to describe what Matt felt at the very moment he heard Foggy’s heart stop. In some way, it felt like his own heart stopped at the same time. Matt could barely remember what happened after his heart stopped. But all he knew was that there was a new weight over his very soul, one that would not be going away anytime soon.
He remembered the funeral. The smells, the sounds, really, there was nothing he couldn't remember about it. Practically everyone who he knew who was still alive, but Foggy, there was no heart beat, no Foggy smell, not even his presence was there anymore. But there were so many people there. Foggy’s extended family, Karen, Marci, Brett, some clients he helped, and even the Defenders. There were many tears shed, and many speeches said, but the worst part? It was knowing the man who was the kindest heart was gone, knowing that someone wanted him gone. It was enough to get Matt past the sadness that he should have felt, it only brought anger. After all was said and done, Matt stood there, he couldn't tell how long he stood there for, everyone was apologizing for his loss. Like they didn't understand that Matt could have stopped it, if only he focused harder, if only he never left to check on the client, then maybe, just maybe, Foggy would still be alive.
Once he finally went back to his apartment, he just sat there, on the very couch that he laid down bleeding on, to the point where it was its only purpose. Everything in his body was screaming, going into turmoil. He tried meditating, but it didn't help. So he did the only thing that he knew would calm him down after his failure or save the only person who never left him.
Before he knew it, he was up and throwing open every cupboard. Throwing everything that was in there on the ground, getting a ping of satisfaction every time he heard something crash. They then cleared the counter of everything that was on it, before turning to the living area and smashing the coffee table into the ground, hearing as it splintered off in several directions. Then just because he could, he flipped over the couches and chairs, then ventured off into the bedroom. Where he opened his closet and threw each and every outfit he had out, throwing everything out of the dresser. And finally throwing everything off of the bed into a heap on the floor.
As everything in his apartment was now thrown around and he had nothing else to destroy, he crumbled to his knees and screamed. A long agonizing, angry shout into the world, in hopes of someone understanding his pain. As he screamed, he promised himself that once he had a chance, he would make the one who killed Foggy understand that whatever they suffered previously, would be considered paradise to what he would do to them. He then prayed, to anyone who would listen, to god help the poor souls who would feel his wrath.