[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]

Stop using your arm. [It's the immediate response as he cleans up his own glass. Jon's gotten a good idea of how things are set up and he thinks he can cook without waking anyone up in the morning.

Tim's already grabbed one side and Algric after him so. Jon smiles at Martin with a little shrug and climbs in after. It feels wrong to just... only be on the side of one Martin after everything he'd said before. And then looks up at Martin again, holding one hand out to him. Come on, get in here.]

[secreteary]

[oh. oh his heart. it's going to explode. he's going to keel over and die from being quietly overwhelmed. he barely ever dared to dream that Jon would ever hold out his hand, to take it and offering space next to in order to sleep with.

Martin moves forward slowly, unsure, and softly takes Jon's hand. he just stands there a focuses on the feeling, trying to memorize this moment and carve it in his mind. his hand, his whole body loses its Lonely cold and warms against Jon's.

his movements are slow and purposeful when he walks forward and gingerly starts climbing onto the air mattress, like anything too sudden would break this new reality, watching Jon the whole time.]

[eyediot]

[He can feel that nervous energy from Martin, which.. Understandable but he wishes he could do something about it? But he can feel Martin getting warmer, which is a good sign.

Once Martin's in and they're all settled, Jon shifts so he can pull a blanket up and. Realizes he's sandwiched between both the Martins. And honestly? It's not the worst. He thinks he hears something but then he shifts again and yeah, it's just the noise of the air mattress under the four of them.

Jon takes one deep breath and sighs it, relaxed and settles his head into the pillow, still holding Martin's hand and his back comfortably against Algric.

This is... Nice.]

[curriculum_fictae]

[ This is not quite how he pictured sharing a bed with Jon, and yet. Thi is perfect? Just a different sort of perfect, and. He wonders if he's ever felt this overwhelmingly happy in this entire life. Certainly, it's not something he's ever experienced as an adult. Being here with Jon, able to sense that his younger self is safe for now, and Tim is alive and breathing behind him ...

Yes. A different sort of perfect indeed.

He's too far gone to be anything but chilly, even now, but the cold is reduced to a pleasant coolness, at least. It might even be nice, given there's four of them in this bed. He curls in closer to Jon's back, eyes closed beneath his blindfold. Then ... he reaches back as well, fumbling for Tim's hand. ]

[kayakking]

Hm?

[Tim stretches out as the other's settle in, getting himself arranged. It's... comfortable. Seems right anyway. As much there looms an overwhelming amount to even begin to sort out tomorrow, there's this at least. Those idiots curled up and snagging a bit of comfort wherever it can be salvaged in this mess.

Turns out, they just needed to stop talking long enough to NOT eat their own feet for a little bit.

- And he actually doesn't exactly parse Algric's gesture, assuming he was fumbling for a bit more blanket to curl up in, and it's- with some surprise when their hands meet and Algric's wrap around his.

He's... still for a second, looking at the broad back in front of him.

And gives an unseen smile and relaxes, settling against the cool, soft body next to him, more than happy to have his arm drawn across Algric's side. After all, comfort where it comes...]

[eyediot]

[As comforting and comfortable as this pile is... It surprisingly takes Jon a while to fall asleep. Too unused to sharing beds with people and a little too on edge. What was almost a fight with Tim earlier in the night to the anxiety of both Algric and Tim coming to check on Martin to everything they walked into. His migraine and... having a fair idea of what's continuing to happen to himself. His mind won't stop running, even when he finally does find sleep. Weird dreams that leave Jon shifting and turning.

He lasts about an hour before he's awake again. And cramped. He looks at Martin in front of him, twists his head to look at Algric and Tim behind him. Decides then and there he's going to do whatever he has to to protect them. They deserve kind nights like this.

But he also can't sleep. He can't remember what his dream was, exactly, but the strangeness and underlying fear lingers. So he lays there, listening to them all sleep and breathe and be alive for a little while. He isn't sure how much time passes before his leg is cramped in a bad way. Jon holds his breath and starts carefully extricating himself, pulling himself up as slowly as he can and climbing over the back of the couch. As soon as his foot touches the floor, he hears it again though. And realizes what it is.

About ten minutes later, he's seated at Martin's table, staring at a tape recorder that's still happily going. He considers it. Algric had commented, right at the start that first night, that the recorders were "following" him, making it sound like they had a mind of their own. He's not about to make any statement or talk to the damn thing, he's not delusional or stupid. But he wonders what to do with it, why it's here. It always seems to show up when he's with someone else, or with a group like this.]

...No. [That's his thought on the matter. No. He carefully presses the stop button, then eject and takes the tape out. If this thing is part of it, part of the Eye that's taking hold of him? He doesn't want it to have anything they could give it. He holds it between both hands, starting to press his thumbs outward to break it but--

Something stills him. Whether it's the Eye and the hold Elias has on him, or the fear of making noise and waking the others up, he isn't sure. But he can't... bring himself to destroy this tape. Jon stares at it, before setting it on the table, head in one hand with a shaky, shuddering exhale.

The morning does come around though. Eventually. The tape recorder is nowhere to be seen. There's the sound of meats cooking, and the smells of fresh eggs. He got everything out as quietly as he could, took stock of what was in the fridge and pantry and found it was enough. By the time the others start waking up, he's setting out four plates of eggs, breakfast ham, potatoes with cheese, and some sausage.]

[secreteary]

I was going to do this.

[Martin had slept well. better than he had in a longer time than he could remember. so it was natural and pleasant when Martin woke up. he had drifted in and out for a while, vaguely hearing quiet movement from the direction of the kitchen, and eventually rousing to the smell of breakfast. he was able to put two-and-two together when he realized that Jon's gone, and it caused a pang of...something he couldn't name. he carefully got off of the air mattress - not wanting to disturb the other two - and padded quietly to the kitchen.

when he comes up along Jon's side (from behind would be bad), Martin smiles at Jon in the way he'd only allowed himself when he thought no one was looking; gently and hopelessly fond.]

Can I help?

[eyediot]

[Yeah, from the side is better. But Jon's hair is kind of a mess and he's still in the pyjamas swallowing him butt he gives a kind, if tired, smile up at Martin.]

Nothing much else to do here except clean up.

[Plates are all lined up on the counter for anyone to grab whichever looks to their taste and he doesn't know what drinks everyone wants. It's probably odd that Jon seems to not have any issues standing now. It's fine. Probably.]

Sorry, I... Have a hard time sleeping in. Thought I'd make myself useful after last night.

[secreteary]

[god Jon how are you this adorable. this endearing. this cute. the fact that it's Martin's pyjamas ups the adorable factor exponentially.]

Did you sleep okay, at least? Do you feel rested?

[without further ado, he gets to cleaning up...or as much as he dares while trying to be quiet for the others. not turning the tap on too much when rinsing the dishes, taking care not to hit whatever cooking object he's holding with any other, placing everything very carefully in the drying rack.]

[eyediot]

[Boy those are loaded questions.]

I got enough sleep. It was nice. I... haven't slept like that in a long time.

[It's not an outright lie, but he won't lie definitively to Martin. Not now. Once everything's set out, Jon moves next to Martin to start carefully drying everything with a towel. No sense sitting idle.]

Should probably restock your pantry though.

[secreteary]

[listen, he fusses. he worries. it's what he does.]

Yeah, I. I can't remember the last time I slept that well.

[he's smiling to himself, a little pink as he works on quietly scrubbing a pan.]

I think...I have you to thank for that.

[eyediot]

[That guilt is piling, he was only in bed for maybe three hours total and two of them he was uncomfortably awake for. But he smiles a little.]

Was going to ask how you're holding up, but I guess that answers that.

[A beat.]

Really, though. How... are you doing?

[secreteary]

[dammit Jon, if Martin knew it would be a fuss explosion

he pauses washing to smile at Jon.]

I'm good. I am. Bit hard to be Lonely after a night like that.

[not that the vestiges aren't still there. he's still a bit see-through around the edges, no matter what angle you look at him from. it's like an unsettling halo of an outline. the fingers of his left are also translucent up until the first knuckle; the reminder and remnant of touching Algric upon their introduction.

he bites his lip.]

I'm really...sorry. A-about. Yesterday. Bit embarrassed about it, really.

[eyediot]

...Like I said last night, there's nothing for you to apologize for.

[Jon watches him, then glances over at Algric and Tim still asleep. Looks like they still have some time to themselves.]

What... [Don't fuck it up, Jon.] What about. A-about us? How are you... feeling there, since you got some rest?

1/3

[secreteary]

I-

[oh god speaking of loaded questions]

2/3

[secreteary]

I want what makes you happy.

3/3

[secreteary]

[oops wait that's a non-answer]

If...that includes me, then.

[he's blushing a little harder, but his smile is so hopeful.]

I'd be happy to be a part of that picture.

[...]

Even if it is complicated with Algric.

[eyediot]

[Jon's ready to tell Martin that's a non-answer. That he's allowed to be selfish, if he doesn't like any of it, then Jon will change it.

But then Martin... does be selfish.

When's the last time Jon ever heard Martin say he wanted something that makes himself happy? He smiles at that, a little self-conscious but clearly happy to hear it.]

You were always going to be part of the picture. Either you be part of it, or no picture at all.

[secreteary]

[there's only one thing that Martin learned to accept after last night: that there are people who care about him. it's only one of the many lessons he could have learned, but it's a major step nonetheless. he might not understand why anyone would care, even if reasons were listed, but that's a battle for another day.

and here's Jon. who only knows how to be honest. Jon extended his hand to Martin last night and meant it. and Martin, as stupidly in love as he is, would be supremely stupid to refuse. even he can see that.

there's a glowing feeling in his chest at Jon's declaration. Martin can't identify it, but it's an intoxicating feeling. his smile is like a soft, fond glow directed at Jon.]

I won't lie and pretend I know what to do next...or at all. But just know that hearing that from you is like...

[words fail him. so he shrugs, a little helplessly.]

[eyediot]

[That's a good reaction? Yes, that's decidedly a good reaction. Jon smiles a little, only full of fondness and some relief, that Martin didn't take that badly or put himself down somehow.]

To be quite honest, I'm not entirely sure what to do next either. [He'll start putting these couple of pans away as quietly as he can, but even he can't stop the couple of metal clangs that happen.]

I suppose there's still things to discuss about the Institute and what's going to happen all around once we're all awake.

[kayakking]

[It was the smell that stirred Tim awake. For all of the soft sounds of the kitchen and conversation, it's the siren's call of a warm breakfast that lured him to the rocks of consciousness.

Tim pulls himself reluctantly from the small nest of stolen blankets and Algric to tuck up the rest on the still sleeping man and wobble to the kitchen.

He takes one of the plates with an air of muzzy triumph.]

Mmm? [And a yawn are his first contributions?? to the conversation.]

Right. Morning.

[eyediot]

Morning.

[He didn't even hear Tim get up, he was... distracted. This conversation with Martin had his whole attention, which almost never happens really.]

Slept all right?

[kayakking]

[Which does leave the question of how much Tim heard. But by the rubbing his eyes at the moment, it's questionable how ACTUALLY awake he is at the moment.]

God. Yeah? I could do twenty more hours of that.

[There's a pause as he tucks into the first bit of his breakfast.]

Oh. Hey. S'good.

[Assumptions are being made, and that's directed at Martin, actually.]

[eyediot]

I think we all could, if I'm honest. [This whole group needs good sleep on the regular.

Jon grabs a plate of his own - the last one he plated, less all around - and settles in with it.]

And thank you.

[kayakking]

Oh. Heeeyy.

[It's a bright, if surprised correction.

He rubs his eyes and chewing over some sausage, watches Jon walk....... rather normally back to the table. And those pans should have been over weight limit.

The mood slips a bit. But he spears another bite rather than bring it up... yet.]