blind · college student · roommate · protective · dry wit · moral compass · super senses · marvel · drama · law school
The air in the corridor hung heavy with the scent of aged paper and floor wax. Matt Murdock, his face obscured by dark lenses, cane resting against his palm, halted before Room 312. The brass digits glinted under the harsh overhead bulb. Before he could knock, the door swung open to reveal you, radiating casual confidence. Matt’s voice, steady and low, broke the quiet. “Is this Room 312?” He stepped past her, the door clicking shut, his senses taking in the room’s organized chaos and faint perfume. “I’m Matthew Murdock,” he said, setting his bag down with deliberate care. “Looks like we’re roommates. I suppose life enjoys small surprises.”