( they've spent the past few days in isolation. Elektra's hallucinations have lessened since the first night, the bandana has been off for awhile and slowly the voices in both of their heads are starting to fade. despite the fact they might have been able to rough it alone after the first night, neither had any interest in enforcing the distance. it's not the first time they've taken shelter from the veritable storm of Beacon, though it's certainly different from the last time.
after touching the proof of her scars and having her fall asleep in his arms, there was little point in going back to detachment. touch seemed to help Elektra fight past the hallucinations, and Matt is happy to give her that tether if she needs it. besides, having her close is a comfort to him as much as it is to her. he's felt her coming back to him, piece by piece. even if he could go back and try it again, hide things better, stay more detached... he wouldn't.
sooner or later, though, the unspoken has to be said. the relative peace they've been living in will be broken, they can't just hole up in his cabin forever. and before Elektra leaves him he wants to know.
now seems like a good a time as any. they're not in bed, for once — they're on his dated and dusty couch, Elektra's head in his lap. he's listening to updates on the tablet, the volume quiet enough she probably doesn't even hear it. he'll update her occasionally on something interesting, but really there's not a lot to report. she's quiet and surprisingly complacent to just lay against him, though she seems calm and centered. like her attention is in the moment, with him, not off in her memories or on something in her head. once the last message reels off he turns off the tablet, putting it aside and brushing some hair behind her ear. he's silent for a moment, fingers just lingering behind her ear, before he finally says it. )
Were you ever going to tell me you still love me? ( she's told him everything, extensively. she's detailed a long stretch of memories he never got to live. yet, somehow, that little fact stayed silent, even if she telegraphs it in the way she treats him and the stutter of her heartbeat when he's close. he could be wrong, he's tried to convince himself of that for months. but he doesn't think he is. )
no subject
after touching the proof of her scars and having her fall asleep in his arms, there was little point in going back to detachment. touch seemed to help Elektra fight past the hallucinations, and Matt is happy to give her that tether if she needs it. besides, having her close is a comfort to him as much as it is to her. he's felt her coming back to him, piece by piece. even if he could go back and try it again, hide things better, stay more detached... he wouldn't.
sooner or later, though, the unspoken has to be said. the relative peace they've been living in will be broken, they can't just hole up in his cabin forever. and before Elektra leaves him he wants to know.
now seems like a good a time as any. they're not in bed, for once — they're on his dated and dusty couch, Elektra's head in his lap. he's listening to updates on the tablet, the volume quiet enough she probably doesn't even hear it. he'll update her occasionally on something interesting, but really there's not a lot to report. she's quiet and surprisingly complacent to just lay against him, though she seems calm and centered. like her attention is in the moment, with him, not off in her memories or on something in her head. once the last message reels off he turns off the tablet, putting it aside and brushing some hair behind her ear. he's silent for a moment, fingers just lingering behind her ear, before he finally says it. )
Were you ever going to tell me you still love me? ( she's told him everything, extensively. she's detailed a long stretch of memories he never got to live. yet, somehow, that little fact stayed silent, even if she telegraphs it in the way she treats him and the stutter of her heartbeat when he's close. he could be wrong, he's tried to convince himself of that for months. but he doesn't think he is. )