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Once Jon has left Martin almost feels like crying.
He slumps in his chair and buries his face in his hands.
Oh Jon.
He wishes everything was as easy as Jon was trying to make it out to be. But it couldn’t be. Not anymore. Not when neither of them are truly human any longer, Martin doubts that escaping Beholding's influence would turn any of that back.
He has to think that Jon came to him because he knew he would say no. He has to think that there’s no other reason behind Jon’s choice. Because the alternative is far too painful.
Thinking about the hope and desperation in Jon’s voice is far too painful. About the way he asked him to run away with him, the two of them, together.
He hates how much a part of him wanted to say yes, to try to run away with him. It sounded so idiotically romantic, almost the sort of stuff he would have fantasized about before everything started to unravel and go to hell. Almost the sort of stuff he’d secretly write about.
And he was doing such a good job at avoiding him until now too. Shit.
Their situation is far beyond salvageable in that way. He knows that. He is certain of it. It doesn’t make it hurt any less. Jon, finally coming to him, trusting him and seeking him when he can’t deal with that anymore, when he needs to be isolated specifically so he can protect him. It’s painfully ironic, he almost feels like laughing again. When – finally - he thinks he knows what he has to do in this confusing and disorientating mess Jon comes barging in to tell him differently.
He guesses that’s another reason to avoid him, really. Thinking too hard about whatever was going on with him only complicated things further every single time.
And if Peter was saying the truth about all this Extinction business, well, things could get very ugly. They wouldn’t have a long time to enjoy their freedom – if they even got it at all - before everything was taken away. And truly who else except for them was going to try to do anything about this? No one, that’s who. So, doesn’t that mean that they have a responsibility to stop whatever’s going on? Yes, right? Right.
He almost feels like he’s giving himself excuses to not run after him. Or maybe excuses for why he is not doing that right now. It’s all a bit confusing.
Does he actually think that or does he actually want to keep isolating himself? He wonders how much of the things he said to Jon were what he really thought Jon was feeling and how much it was Martin projecting things he was scared he was starting to think himself. Has he already fallen that deep into The Lonely? Maybe, maybe he has always been teetering on the edge and is finally letting himself fall straight into it.
But what if Jon was right? What if escaping worked? And what if running away from this whole mess is the only way to stop everything? This game of avatars who don’t know what they’re doing and unknowable fears that stalk and seep into the edges of the world. It wouldn’t be the first time he questions this whole thing. It felt too much like they were playing into whatever game was at play behind the scenes. Just some more pieces for the fears to exploit and toss around the board in the hope of creating more suffering in the world. If they even have conscious thought at all, that is.
It all just feels like way too much.
His mind wanders once again to Jon. Jon in a coma for six terrifying months, making him worry everyday that it’s already too late, that he has already lost him. Jon with dark bags under his eyes, clutching a tape recorder in his hand. Jon thanking him softly when he used to bring him tea, his shoulders relaxing, if just for a second. Jon shouting his name in the hallway. Jon saying he trusts him. Jon saying he’ll be there for him when he needs him. Jon’s voice rising in desperation as he begs him to blind himself with him, so that both of them can leave this place together. Together.
He shakes his head.
Jon doesn’t want that, he doesn’t really want that. He has to think he doesn’t want that.
He is doing what he has to to guarantee that Jon won’t die on him again, he is doing what he can to make sure things won’t go south further than they already have. It’s all he can do. It’s what he has to do.
There’s no way to go back now, no time to regret or mourn for what could have been and has already turned to mist in his hands. Jon already made his choice long ago, he’s sure of it. And now so has he.
He just hopes that he’s making the right one.