kayakking | (no subject)

You don't, Martin.

I know you make me happy, and Tim.

[God, there don't seem to be the right words to what he wants to express.]

I'm sorry.

[ too little, too late. he's spiraling at last. ]

She hated me for something that isn't even my fault. She died hating me.

[ the threads are unraveling. ]

I'm s-sorry, I'm sorry, I know you didn't mean it like that, I just- I can't-

[ think straight. his voice is increasing in volume and pitch as his thoughts keep winding him up. it's fine; no one will hear him but Jon. ]

Sh-she was supposed to...to be my mum, but she couldn't stop hating me and being right about every horrible thing she's ever said about me, but she was still a person who was hurting and I hate her but I can't hate her, and I just- I just wanted- Just once- I wanted her to be wrong. Just once. Even... Even i-if she was lying, to say anything nice about me, about my life-!

Edited 2020-12-22 03:06 (UTC)

[He hears that spiral, lets Martin get it out. But by the time he finishes, Jon has moved to still holding his hand in one of his own, but the other's come to pull at Martin, hugging his shoulders and tucking his face into Jon's own.]

I know. I'm= I'm sorry, Martin.

[ there's no resistance. Jon is warm, and his kindness is what brings Martin from continuing...but it starts the prickling at his eyes. ]

I'm sorry.

[He holds him tightly now that he knows there's a solid form there to hold, rubs his back.]

It's all right, Martin. I'm here.

Jon, I-

[ the self-sacrificing, self-loathing part of Martin says that Jon shouldn't be; he shouldn't have to deal with this, shouldn't have to pick up Martin's pieces. or at least hold them together. but Martin can't bring himself to say anything about it or act upon the thought, except to feel shame that Jon is seeing him as this kind of mess, again, and bury hid face further into Jon's shoulder. ]

I don't know what to do now.

You don't have to know right now. You can simply... be here. I'll stay as long as you like.

[ Martin's voice is small and unsure. ]

Please stay...? I'm sorry...

I'll stay.

[He kisses Martin's curls and breathes out quietly. Just... content to hold him here for now.]

[ suddenly remembering, Martin's muffled voice drifts up. ]

Should get you somewhere warmer.

Hm. Where would you like to go?

[Still Martin's choice.]

...Wherever I won't give you hypothermia.

[He gives Martin a gentle squeeze.]

My flat or Tim's home?

[ there's a long moment to weigh the options. ]

Yours. I don't want to bother anyone else.

All right. Mine.

[He still has a few months left on the lease before he'll officially move out. Jon pulls away and holds Martin's shoulders, carefully taking him in. Then stands and offers a hand to him.]

[ willing his hand to stay solid and to even warm, to revel in the comfort, so as to not burn Jon's hand when softly taken Martin stands. he feels like he's adrift. if it wasn't for Jon, he might float away.

he follows Jon the whole way only half-conscious of the change of scenery, choosing to focus on their hands. that single point is all that stands between him and fading, and he won't squander it. ]

...Thank you.

...Of course, Martin.

[Door open and it's much the same as it was that first night Martin and Algric met. He'll guide Martin to sit on the couch, only leaving to grab a couple blankets for them.]

All the time you need.

[ in the safety of Jon's flat is when Martin can't avoid what he's been holding in any longer. the disassociative state he'd been hovering in starts falling away.

he stares at the faded carpet, and that prickling comes back. he's solid and visible, but his colors so muted and his voice comes through with terrible, quiet echo. ]

I remember how immaculately my mum kept the house when she was well. It was a real point of pride for her to have a spotless home. That's one reason why I started learning how to do it; because she couldn't anymore. But she missed it. Missed when Dad would come home and...and thank her for everything...

[Jon listens to that, draping one blanket over Martin's shoulders and lets him talk it out.

What does he even say to this? Sure, his grandmother passed recently, but the relationship wasn't nearly as complicated and terse as Martin's was with his mum. There's nothing he can say. So the best he can do is listen.]

[ Martin's jaw works for a moment. he's put Jon in an awkward position. dammit. ]

...Sorry. I-I'll stop.

No, it. It's all right, Martin. You need to be able to let it out.

[Martin takes a deep breath, drawing the blanket closer around himself. the exhale shakes on its way out of his lungs, but he manages to turn to Jon and smile just a little, even if it doesn't reach his eyes, already a little puffy.]

I have no idea what I need, so...maybe I don't have to... To drag us both to the beach. M-maybe this could just be. Something...nice.

I... would appreciate not being dragged to the beach.

[He says that slowly, gently. Trying to be kind.]

But yeah. We can stay here a bit.

Erm.

[Jon's doing his best. that makes Martin sniffle just a little.]

What about...movie a-and a cuddle? I could order something nice to get delivered, or...

I'll take care of that, whatever you like. My treat.

But yes, I. I think that works just fine.

(no subject)

secreteary - 2021-01-19 01:35 (UTC) - Expand