kayakking | (no subject)

...Maybe not, but I want to.

[He'll carefully set his hand on the bench between them. An open offer if Martin wants it.]

[ he wants to. oh, how he wants to. ]

I'd just. I'll freeze you i-if I hold your hand.

I can't say that I much care at the moment. Not if it can help you a little.

[ after a moment's hesitation, there's the whisper of a hand in Jon's. the cold is terrible, but lasts only in that initial touch; contact with Jon raises the temperature of Martin's hand from "terrible" to "uncomfortable". it's almost visible, even, which is improvement until it starts trembling, almost as badly as Martin's voice; tight and hollow. ]

Mum's gone.

[The cold almost distracts him from the words. He squeezes Martin's hand and then it sinks in. He'd just seen her the other day, hadn't he? She'd been strong enough to throw a tray at Algric but - it was a sudden shock and not the illness.]

...I'm sorry.

[ a bitter laugh echoes quietly next to Jon. ]

I'm not sure I am. Or- No, I am. And I'm not. She was right; I'm a terrible son.

...It doesn't make you a terrible son to have complicated feelings about her passing.

[He squeezes Martin's hand gently, ignoring the chill.]

It's ungrateful. She only ever did her best with what she had.

I won't claim to know how things were [he could. All he has to do is focus, but he won't]. All I can say is you were still hurting.

It doesn't make you ungrateful, Martin.

So was she.

Sometimes people hurting lash out and hurt others around them, even those they love. It happens, it... Doesn't make it right.

[He lifts their hands to sandwich Martin's colder hand between both of his own.]

Did you want to stay out here a while?

[ oh. that simple show of affection brings a barely visible, but certainly present, Martin into view. ]

I...don't know. [ [then it dawns on him. ] Oh- Jon, I'm s-sorry, you're probably freezing, I-I'm sorry, let's... L-let's get you somewhere warmer...

I'm all right.

[He squeezes that hand again, gentle.]

If you'd like to stay here longer, then let's stay.

I just didn't want to bother anyone.

[ somewhat true. ]

Don't want you to be miserable.

[ definitely true. ]

I'm always a little miserable. [He leans to nudge his shoulder at him gently.]

I don't mind, Martin. Even if we just sit and I keep you company a while.

[ of all the things to say at a time like this, Jon, honestly.

Martin pulls his hand away and vanishes again. ]

Even with Algric? ...Even me?

[Shit. He looks Martin's direction, a little hurt, a lot lost.]

Even with just myself. I-i didn't... Mean it that way.

[ the rational part of Martin's brain hears it. understands it. accepts it.

but the rational part is not what's in charge right now.

is that the smell of the sea? ]

Is that all I do? Make people miserable...?

[ the echo is oddly...muffled. if Martin was visible, Jon would see that his boyfriend is huddled in on himself, face buried in his hands. ]

I only made her life miserable...

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.