🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪 go to hell murdick B')
He’s been stabbed before, more times than he cares to admit. But this time… it’s different. He doesn’t even feel it at first, doesn’t register the blade going into his side or coming out again. Because he’s with Peter. Peter would never hurt him. Not like that.
He doesn’t realize it until he moves to fully face Peter and feels a deep burning twinge in his side. And it’s such a familiar pain that it makes him pause, makes him move his jacket and press on the side only to draw his hand back in surprise. Sticky and wet, the smell of metal assaults his senses. Blood. His hand is covered in blood.
His head snaps to stare in Peter’s direction, lips parted as the taste of blood enters his mouth. It’s bad the damage Peter has done. It’s more than just the physical part of it. It’s a deep rooted betrayal that Matt has never been forced to feel before. Because he’s never let anyone in like he has Peter. Matt’s cane tumbles from his hand and echo’s into his ears, and he reaches out to steady himself on his kitchen table. ❝ P Peter? ❞ His voice is unrecognizable even to his own ears. So broken and weak, it reminds him of when he was a child. When he found his father. The kind of heartbreak and pain very few will ever know or understand.
❝ What? What did you…? Why? ❞ His legs finally give out from under him, more shock than anything else. He needs help, and ambulance. He needs Peter, his Peter. He needs stitches that much is clear. ❝ Please, Peter…. Why did you do this? ❞
It’s the question he repeats to himself even as Peter’s footsteps leave his apartment, even as his heartbeat becomes indistinguishable from those further into the city. Over and over again, even when his other senses start to fail him, he questions it over and over again. Why Peter had done this?
Perhaps it was God finally punishing him for being the monster he was. Showing Matt that he wold never be able to have anything good or loving in his life. Why had Peter taken his heart, if only to break it?