Martin K(nife) Blackwood (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
curriculum_fictae) wrote2020-06-16 06:15 pm
curriculum_fictae) wrote2020-06-16 06:15 pm
[PSL] time travel, time travel
[ 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? ]
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? ]
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he shrinks a little, smile suddenly very uncertain]
...Too soon?
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[Sorry, he's. Taking that in. Jon gets as close as he can to expressing his feelings without actually saying it, and the first thing Martin does is tease. Lord. It's so different from his near-heart break with Algric.]
Didn't expect it.
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Just got caught up in the moment, I guess. Bad attempt to lighten the mood, maybe.
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[He still sounds in slightly better spirits, though.]
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[that hasn't escaped Martin's notice, and he smiles at Jon, pleased that there seems to be some improvement in mood.
he was about to offer to grab something for Jon, but then he remembers his hand held in both of the other's and looks at them. his own smile is now private and like it's only for himself as color spreads through his fingers a little more, as well as his face.]
...L-look, Jon, you don't have to hold my hand forever. I'll. I'll be okay. [the smallest of tugs, prompting Jon to let go.]
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Look, Martin. I... It's just. I... realized what your feelings were. And. That I've sort of been an idiot not realizing something so obvious sooner. [He looks down at their hands, sees some of the color returning to Martin's under his own fingers.] Tim had to. He didn't tell me, I figured it out. But. He sort of shoved me into the 'shut up or do something about it'.
I don't, um. I'm not.. Good? At this. But. [God, Tim would be screaming at him right now. Either do it or shut up.] It's, I think. Worth a try.
If I don't. Incredibly. Royally. Screw things up somehow. Because that seems to be my knack. So. Let me. Hold it for a while.
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"Fee"- Screw what up, Jon, I don't understand-
[then suddenly something occurs to him and it's very obvious that he's switching into Fuss Mode.]
D-do you need to go back to sleep? I think the morphine must be hitting you r-right now... I can leave, if you want me too, though I'd rather stay?
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Jon looks so put out for a moment, then sighs and just lets it go. Maybe he was wrong, maybe Tim was wrong. Maybe those feelings don't happen until two years from now, who knows. For someone as intelligent as he is, he really is a moron.]
Don't... Leave. [He does... Take his hand back though. He wanted to try to do this right. So badly, he wanted to do something right.]
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I'll stay, but....what did I do wrong?
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Nothing, you... You didn't do anything wrong, Martin.
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Don't. D-don't do that. Okay? Whatever it is, you can tell me. Just d-don't pull this..."I am Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of The Magnus Institute and I do everything alone and shut everyone out" thing. Again.
[a sigh.]
Don't shut me out, Jon. I'm- Not after we just established that we're not just co-workers and you don't hate me after all.
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I know-- I-i know. I'm not shutting you out, Martin. I... Quite literally just tried to do the opposite.
[And you sort of rebuffed him. Pretty much exactly like Algric did.]
1/?
2/???
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5???????????????????????????
I'm sitting here, trying my best to understand your terrible attempts to communicate - not that you're not trying, I won't say you're not, I know you are in your own way - but then you're acting all hurt w-when I don't understand, which isn't fair. To you or me.
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7/7 i guess
[just. this face.]
But I'm asking you, for...f-for your own sake, apparently. Try again? You can take your time, I'm not going anywhere. I'll listen, as long as it takes, yeah? Until you've said whatever it is you need to say, and until I. Get it.
Okay?
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He isn't sure how much clearer he can be without just... Saying it all outright. And the idea of that is so out of reach for him. He's out of his debt. God, where's Tim when he needs him to rip the bandaid off here.
He just rests his head in both his hands and takes a slow, deep breath. This is so bloody stupid. This was a mistake. 'Not feeling great' is an understatement.
His voice comes out tired, muffled:] I was saying I know how you feel about me and it's. [God he doesn't want to say mutual? Because he's still figuring it out for himself.] I understand your feelings about me. That's all.
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You-
[curls in on himself, face buried in his hands, with a small, trembling whimper.]
Oh god. Did Tim tell you...?
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I-- [Ugh.] Apparently it was obvious to everyone except myself and I figured it out a-a few days ago.
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I'm... I-I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't-- I don't-- Oh god. I'm sorry, Jon. I promise, it's fine that you don't feel the same way, it really is, and if it's too awkward? I can go. I can leave you alone, I can stay away, I don't want to make you uncomfortable o-or anything, I just, I--
Oh god. I'm so sorry.
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[God. THIS is why he didn't want to say anything. But no, Tim got in his head to say something and then it mostly worked out with Algric and he thought maybe it would be fine here, but that's just. His overconfidence being misplaced.]
It's all right. [He tries to school his tone into something more soothing, or understanding, or anything. He's certainly not mad.] I'm. I'm still trying to figure myself out. I just. Wanted to let you know I knew. That's all.
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Martin slides his hands down his face enough to peek through his fingers at Jon.]
So...you know, and you're just.
Fine with it?
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1/?
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4/4
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what is writing can i eat it
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