A/N: I always seem to read fics where it is Foggy who pines away for Matt. It's rare to find one where it's the other way around. And so this. Also because this pairing hurts me. May be subject to revisions.

the distance between you and me / the value of x.
—matt x foggy—

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variations on distance / where x = infinity

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« arsenous elation »

5.

If Point A is constantly traveling in the same direction and the same speed as Point B, is it possible for Point A to ever catch up to Point B?

Marci Stahl comes into Foggy's life with summer hair and a smile that makes Foggy light up like a livewire. Evidence: Foggy's laugh, heat rising up in him, his voice sonorous with happiness, pleasantly surprised when Marci surprises him outside their dormitory one fternoon.

"Hey there, Foggy-bear."

It is ridiculous, how such a ridiculous name can make Foggy's breathing and heart tempo trip over themselves. Foggy is an avid believer of serendipity, glows with the simplest affections. He has starved himself for companionship and love, does not dare to ask more than what he thinks is his worth. You are an idiot, Matt wants to say sometimes, because Foggy has a large heart that gives out selflessly, is worth more this, deserves all the love in the world. You are an idiot. But Matt does not blame his friend for this, because isn't he an idiot too? Chasing something that can't ever be his.

He knows the impossibility of closeness and still, he chases.

The invitation for ice cream almost escapes over his head. Foggy stands by the bottom of the stairs, Matt feels his gaze on him, waits for an answer.

"Matt?"

He reads the concern like a well-read verse and if Matt so chooses, he can ask Foggy to stay and Foggy would. When Matt smiles, it feels like his skin has shrunk, feels taut against his bones.

"Nah, go ahead. I'm beat."

Doubt bleeds over into the concern now, "You sure Matty? We could have a competition on whoever keels from sugar-overload first."

Matt widens his smile to prove a point, starts digging in his pockets for the keys. "After last time? No thank you, Foggy. Go and charm Marci with your ice cream eating skills." He turns his head a little, "Watch out for him please, Marci."

Marci laughs, starts to pull Foggy away. Foggy only hesitates for a brief second. Matt opens the door but stops midway, listens as their steps fade away. They move asynchronously, but attuned to each other. He tries to keep himself from breaking while the universe berates him: this is how martyrs are made.

What if Point A gets tired and Point B keeps on moving? Would the infinite distance stay constant—because it is, after all, infinite—or would it stretch itself twice, into something else but is equally impossible? What then?

Matt stands there for a long time, listening.

6.

When Foggy discovers his secret, the entire world goes still. It is a quiet affair: with a silence that blankets the apartment, a silence both heavy and thin. The room is small between them, their anger and frustration, but something accompanies the distance now, immeasurable as ever. To solve for it, we use:

(x ^ 2) * heartbreak

Where:
x = infinity
heartbreak = the discovery of a decade-long lie

Heartbreak, Matt learns, sounds a lot like fractures. The old heart groans, creaks with history and memory. One moment Foggy paces, cries and shouts. Asks hard questions. In the next breath, he is silent and standing still. Matt does not know which one he prefers, knows only that they are both breaking. He starts to say, "Foggy, I—"

Foggy's anger cuts him off, vicious and hurt, "You don't get to say anything, Murdock."

So Matt doesn't. Swallows his own anger down, feels it light up a thousand fires in his chest. He doesn't even realize that Foggy has walked out of the apartment until the door slams shut.

Closeness is now an impossibility. The infinite distance stretches itself, once, twice, until the only thing Matt hears is the sound of an old ship breaking in half.

7.

On the second day, the fever is at its worst.

He is turning into a desert, like sand was poured through his throat and has now settled in his chest. Everything is arid and dry. The heat skims just beneath his skin, a heavy blanket he cannot shake off. It feels a lot like death actually, how he floats in and out of unconsciousness, teetering on the edge of combustion.

"Matt?"

A hand is on his forehead, hot and sweating. But he knows this hand, is familiar and blessed. His head swims.

Foggy?

Something heavy is being pulled over him, and Matt opens his eyes. He pushes the blanket away. The outline of Foggy is barely there, his voice distant, tunnel-like. There are times that Matt believes it's possible, for closeness. Like right now. Matt finds that they are closer. The fever pulling at his senses, nulls the unbreakable space. He wonders if this is the closest they are going to get. For the moment, it's enough.

"What do you want? Matt, what do you want?"

Delirious, Matt thinks: you.

You.

You.

You.

Foggy, I want you.

8.

The shore is an explosion of sound and motion.

It happens in a breathless second, lasts Matthew Murdock a lifetime. The variables get it right; velocity of the wind, the water's pressure against Foggy's legs, the vibrations of sound carving around his still form in stark relief. This, this singular moment, is even better than his senses in the rain because Matt is sure. The variables get it right and he can see Foggy looking at him, seeing. Sparks of fire glint off where the color of his eyes should be. Matt is certain now, a great calm washing over him. It tastes familiar, like it has always been there, patient, waiting. Of course.

I will love you to the End of Times.

And now, Matt traverses the distance from Point A to Point B. Reduces infinity by .000000001—and, and perhaps that will be enough, will never be enough. But it is close. There will always be an infinite distance between them and this, this, Matt accepts.

He steps forward. Sifts through the vibrations, the displacements, grasps Foggy's hand, pulls him forward into Matt's arms.

Finally. Closeness.