[PSL] time travel, time travel

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Martin had always known that Lukas would kill him in the end. If not along the way, then surely at the end, once he'd gotten what he wanted out of Martin, whatever that turned out to be. When the Lonely rose up to swallow him, he'd accepted his impending death with ... what?

What did he have left, really? Numbness, mostly. A hallucination of Jon in the Lonely, looking for him, but - but that was impossible, ridiculous. His mind playing cruel tricks. He settled himself down in the frigid surf, knees drawn up close to his chest, unshed tears frozen to his cheeks and lashes.

And then. A door. A door that shouldn't exist, that couldn't exist. That he shouldn't take at all. The Lonely was terrible, yes, but it was quiet, and it was peaceful. Martin was aligned enough with it by now to very nearly enjoy it, in a strange and terrible way. The Spiral would be infinitely worse than this quiet beach.

But ... it was hope, too. In a strange way. Hope enough that Martin found himself turning the door handle and stepping through, leaving the false comfort of the Lonely behind him.

The transition was unpleasant. Long. But Martin couldn't remember it after; he only remembered stumbling out through the door of a supply closet somewhere deep in the Archives, blinking up at the dim bulbs that pretended to be sufficient. What time was it? Had he escaped? Where were Lukas and Elias now?

And where was Jon? ]

Comments

[eyediot]

Possibly.

[He has a few other ideas, but time travel and science fiction was never his forte. Since Martin resumes eating, so will he. But it's... a little less enthusiastic, no matter how good the pancakes are.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Sorry Jon. Heavy conversation for what should have been a light, pleasant meal.

Martin tries to salvage it, at least. ]

How - how do you like dinner? Did it turn out all right?

[eyediot]

Oh-- Yes. It's, it's good. Thank you.

[He's so awkward about it. Sorry, Martin.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Awkward or not, Martin still relaxes a little. ]

Do you have any preferences for tomorrow? Ingredients or - or flavours or anything? I thought I'd do something special since it's the weekend.

[eyediot]

No idea.

[He tries the pancake and. God. He didn't realize how bad he was at cooking for himself until this week, really.]

Anything is fine. You... really know what you're doing.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Martin blushes just a little. Even that faint amount of pink looks strange on his pallid cheeks. ]

L-like I said, I've been cooking since I was a kid. So. Lots of practice.

[eyediot]

[The blush is so pronounced and impossible to miss. Has Martin really not been complimented that much? Maybe he should keep that in mind at work...]

It did you a lot of good.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ If you compliment Present-Martin he is going to lose it, just saying. ]

W-well. I mean. I cook less for myself, admittedly. It's easier to cook for someone else.

[eyediot]

[MAYBE THAT'S WHAT HE NEEDS. JUST MCFUCKING LOSE IT.]

All the same, you're great at it. I'm. Clearly not that practiced. [He can cook simple things. Sandwiches, some broths. Oven roasted things, but his grandmother didn't teach him much, admittedly. His being a self-proclaimed menace didn't help either.]

[curriculum_fictae]

Oh. Then - then do you want me to teach you?

[eyediot]

What.

[curriculum_fictae]

Do you. Do you want me to, er. Teach you how to cook?

-- If you'd rather not, that's fine, I just -

[eyediot]

I--

No, it's fine. I just hadn't considered it before.

[curriculum_fictae]

O-oh. Well. Then - I mean, we could cook together on your next day off? Just take the afternoon.

[eyediot]

...Sure. Just pick up whatever you want to cook and let's. Do that.

[This is fine. It's fine everything's fine, they're fine.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ It's 100% normal and not at all a date. ]

All right. That would be lovely, then.

[eyediot]

[Not a date at all, nope. He's focused on his work and making sure Martin's okay.]

All right, then. Cooking lesson this weekend.

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Martin nods, then. Finishing up his plate. ]

Do you want to go back to the board tonight? Fill in a few more things?

[eyediot]

No, I... I think it's all right to take a night off.

[Martin already gave him so much information that he needs to parse and process. It doesn't feel like the right time to dive into his board.]

[curriculum_fictae]

Oh.

[ That's fine too, and frankly a bit of a relief. Confessing that he'd come from a literal death sentence had been exhausting.

But it did leave a question. ]

What do you want to do instead?

[eyediot]

Hm.

[There are always books, but that doesn't feel right at the moment either.]

I don't have a television, but I do have my laptop...?

[They could always watch something.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ Martin would very much enjoy sitting next to Jon while they both read, but that is nice too, isn't it? ]

Put something on, then? All right.

[eyediot]

Yes, I... I think so.

[He sounds tired. He's a little concerned for both the Martins in his life now, and what the future brings.

He gets his laptop set up on the coffee table and pulls up some... documentary. Egypt and pyramids and things he already knows and fully expects to be correcting them on from the comfort of his sofa.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ It's nice. Even if Jon does have a million corrections, that ... is nice. Although it is a bit hard to see? Martin has to scoot in close to see the screen properly, bowing his head a little.

Without really realising it, his shoulder makes the slightest contact against Jon's. And from that minimal point of contact ... colour blooms, hesitantly. His dismally grey jumper shows a hint of blue spreading from the spot, like a drop of ink on ice.

Martin doesn't notice; he just watches, quiet. ]

[eyediot]

[It is nice, all things considered. While he'd only really hung out with Martin and the others at work functions, it's... all right like this. And he's sure Martin is only indulging him and his need to correct a pre-recorded program, likely because there's nowhere else for Martin to really go. But all the same it's... nice.

When it's over, he starts carefully picking and cleaning things up from dinner and where they inevitably brought their tea to the couch.]

Martin. Are you sure you're all right, just sleeping on the couch?