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“Yeah. But it’s… it’s pretty drastic.”
“What, you going to gouge your eyes out or something?”
Jon’s silence was all the answer Martin needed. His face fell. “Fuck off. ”
He never doubted Jon for a second, though. Didn’t ask where he got the information from. Didn’t judge him for seriously considering it. There was only one thing he asked, in the end.
“Why me?”
“What?”
“Why tell me, Jon? Why tell me first?”
“I don’t want to do this alone, if I do it. I thought...the two of us could do it. Together. Escape from here.”
The two made eye contact and Jon swallowed. Martin’s heart swelled at the sight of him. Martin had fancied Jon from the moment they met, though it had been mostly fun for a long time. Jon had been his boss, Martin had no idea if he even swung that way, he was unobtainable and safe. Until he wasn’t.
Being in love with Jon and watching him over the past few years had been one of the most painful experiences of Martin’s life. The worms would have been bad enough, leaving him with circular scars down his neck and arms and emotional ones that they shared. His hand was left mutilated after Jude Perry, a thin line stretched across his neck after Daisy had tried to kill him, and more scars littered his body that Martin knew about. It was his face , though. His eyes were filled with despair. They always looked desperate, frantic, but most of all tired. Jon just looked tired.
Martin had thought Jon was dead. For many long months, Martin didn’t let himself cling to the hope that his Jon might ever return. He had resigned himself to a life without Jon. He was capable; if Martin Blackwood was anything, he was capable. He just didn’t want to have to be.
“Jon, I...I’m not saying no. I’m not saying no, but it’s a lot to think about. Give me a day or two? Is a day or two okay?”
Jon nodded, the faintest smile on the corner of his lips, so small Martin would have missed it if he hadn’t been looking. “That’s okay. Thank you Martin, I...well, you know where to find me.”
With no more to discuss the two found themselves standing in silence for a moment, not wanting to leave the other but unsure of what else would be okay to say. So Martin excused himself, and Jon went back to the statement he had prepared prior to his conversation with Martin, all the unsaid thoughts lingering in the air.
It seemed as though it was business as usual, Jon thought as he found his place in the statement, except there was something alive in him, now. Something that danced under his skin. He didn’t dare call it hope, not yet, but it was a welcome change.
What he didn’t expect was Martin to find him again later that night, after Jon had put his work away for the night and was soon ready to try fruitlessly to get some sleep. He knocked gently on the partially opened door and let himself in.
“Jon-”
Jon stood up and quickly ran his finger through his hair, now long enough that it was beginning to grow past his shoulders. “Martin!” He brushed down his shirt, hoping he didn’t look as awful as he felt. “I just wasn’t expecting - no, please, come in. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine Jon, sorry for, uh, disturbing you. I just wanted to let you know that I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve decided I’ll do it.”
“You’ll do it.” Jon repeated dumbly.
“Um, yeah, I know it’s going to probably be worse for me than it is for you? No spooky healing abilities and all. But, ah, I figure it’s probably no riskier than whatever Peter’s planning. And I don’t really know what you have planned for after but, hey, I’m sure we’ll figure it out? We’ve figured everything else out.”
Jon’s face erupted onto a full-blown, manic smile, teeth visible, eyes crinkled. “Martin.” He said, and Martin decided he never wanted to hear his name said any other way for as long as he lived. Like it was a sacred word that filled up his entire mouth and tasted like honey, like it was to be savored, like it was a celebration. He seemed to catch himself and he cleared his throat, his face returning back to a stoic neutral. “Um. Right, sorry, I know I shouldn’t exactly be thrilled about this. I know it’s a big choice and you’re going to be giving up a lot-”
“Jon, shush, it’s okay. Things here have been a proper nightmare for a long time. It’s okay to be excited at the idea of getting out of it all. I’m giving you permission to be a little excited about it.”
Jon’s smile returned, less bright than before. “Okay. Okay. We need to work out the details, but I think we can save that until tomorrow.”
Martin nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
“Did you...do you want to stay with me tonight?”
Martin’s eyes widened. “Hm?”
“I, ah...I was just wondering if you’d like to stay here tonight with me. Just to sleep.”
“Ah, I’m sorry Jon, Peter will be wondering where I am-”
He held a hand up. “Of course. Sorry, I was getting carried away.” A brief silence filled the air. “Ah, find me soon and we’ll work out the details? When it’s not past eleven.”
Martin nodded. “I will.”
“Sleep well, Martin.”
“You too, Jon.”
Martin found him in the evening, hunched over at his desk, papers and several tape recorders strewn about. He cleared his throat.
“I brought tea,” He said, lifting the mug up to show Jon.
Jon sat up straight. “Martin,” He said. “Thank you.”
Martin sat the tea on a portion of Jon’s desk that was clear and leaned against the edge.
“So, what’s this grand plan of yours?”
Jon picked up the tea and blew on it for a minute before taking a sip, making a face as it burned his tongue anyway. “Well, I talked it over with Daisy and she agrees that it’s probably for the best if we lie low for a bit afterwards. We don’t want to assume that just because we’re severing our connection to the institute that we’re no longer going to be a target. She offered to let us use a safehouse of hers, just as we sort things out. In Scotland.”
Martin nodded once, slowly. “Okay. Right. Makes sense.”
“Beyond that, ah, I’ve thought of several... options. They’re all going to be painful, but I’ll let you decide your preference.”
“Okay.”
“There’s going to be an adjustment period, of course. I think we should wait until we get to the safehouse so we can see the layout first.”
“Right. Um, what’s the aftercare plan?”
“Hm?”
“Like, we’re going to be injured pretty severely, what’s the plan to make sure everything heals okay?”
“Ah,” Jon said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t thought about it much. Probably the hospital for you, I should be fine on my own.”
“Will you still have super healing without a connection to the institute?”
Jon shrugged. “If I need to spend some more time in a hospital, that’s a small price to pay.”
“You made a deal with The Eye, Jon. For your life. Are you sure you’ll be able to survive this?”
“I-”
“Jon.”
He sighed. “No, I’m not sure. It’s not like I can walk up to Elias and ask him what he thinks will happen, and it’s not like I can ask around and find any real information. It’s a, ah, unique situation. I’m taking a leap of faith, Martin.”
“Oh no, I’m not okay with doing something that might or might not kill you . That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Martin-”
“I already lost you once, Jon. I’m not going to lose you again at my own hands. I’m not.”
“I’m not asking you to. I’m going to do it to myself.”
“That’s not a solution to the problem I have!”
“I think it will work. I know I’m not exactly known for having the greatest plans in the universe but christ, Martin! If this works it will be huge ! I’ve done so many stupid, deadly things over the past couple years of my life, what’s one more? One that might actually do some real good.”
“What about the other people here?”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re going to be stuck here. Elias will just find a new head archivist. He’s just going to start over. This problem didn’t begin with us and it sure as hell isn’t going to end with us.”
“I let the others know they have this, ah, option. We will figure it out in time. We’re certainly not helping anyone while we’re here.”
“Anything else?”
“Hm?”
“Anything else you’ve planned so far?” Upon Jon’s silence he shook his head, a slight fond smile on his lips. “Right. So, I picked up some first aid supplies, and I stopped by the library and picked up some audiobooks. I don’t know how much we’re going to be using our phones but I have mine all set up with a screen reader, if you give me yours I can do the same. I packed some money because I don’t know how low we’re going to have a lie at first, um, I realized we wouldn’t be able to tell the bills apart? So I folded them differently depending on what they are. Packed some stuff about learning braille, too. I already know some of the basics, um, my Aunt was blind and taught me a little, so.”
Jon’s eyes were wide and full of wonder. “Brilliant. Thank you, Martin.” A moment of silence passed. “Are you sure? Even if I...well. You know.”
Martin nodded. “If you’re going to be gouging your eyes out regardless of what I say, then I’m just happy to be there with you.”
“Thank you.”
Jon hadn’t told Martin that had been the plan, but he knew regardless. Martin always knew. Jon wished he could do more than say a simple thank you, he wished he knew how to convey what it meant to him, but he didn’t know how. He’d do his best to figure it out in time, but for now Jon just hoped that Martin knew that, too.
The safehouse was small, just a little cabin in the middle of nowhere, and they were grateful for that. All one floor, three rooms, no carpets or ledges for them to trip over as they got their bearings. They decided to let themselves have the rest of the day. Martin opened the windows as wide as they could go as Jon took some time to dust, though Martin knew it was his way of justifying doing a quick search for spiders. Martin didn’t mind. He wanted Jon to feel safe, and Jon had finally learned how to simply ask Martin to take care of the spiders instead of making a debacle of himself on his own.
The two took the afternoon to run errands. They stocked up on enough food and toiletries to last at least through the end of the month, and cooked a nice dinner with enough leftovers to tide them over for at least a couple days. It should have felt strange. Jon and Martin had never officially had reason to label their relationship as anything other than “coworkers”, but they stopped having the relationship of just coworkers a long time ago. They had no reason to dance around each other’s touch anymore, so they didn’t. When Martin put his hand on the small of Jon’s back as he walked past in the cramped kitchen space, he didn’t move. He let himself lean into it and hum slightly.
Martin noticed and wrapped his hands around Jon’s waist in response, holding onto him tightly, his chin resting on Jon’s shoulder.
“Hey,” Martin whispered.
“Hi.” Jon said. Martin could feel Jon’s cheeks lift as he smiled.
“Is this okay?”
Jon put his hands around Martin’s hand in response, and the two stood like that for a few moments, not saying anything, simply enjoying each other’s company. Enjoying the quiet.
“Are you scared?” Jon found himself asking. Martin adjusted his head.
“Mm. Yeah, I am. I don’t really know what that kind of physical pain will feel like. Not all of us have had our ribs torn from our body.”
Jon laughed under his breath. “I suppose.”
“I know it’s going to be hard to get used to for a bit. But we’ll be safe here, I think. And I have you.”
“Martin-”
“Um, Jon? I really want to kiss you, and I’d like to do it for the first time when I can see you afterwards. If that’s okay.”
Jon wasn’t sure what to say, so he didn’t say anything. He angled himself towards Martin and put his hand on the back of his neck, the edges of his curly hair brushing against his fingers. His eyes flicked from Martin’s eyes, wide and unsure, down to his lips, parted and soft. His eyes flicked back up to Martin’s and he wasn’t sure who leaned in first, but suddenly there was no gap between them.
Jon melted. His entire body leaned into Martin’s as Martin’s hands reached to cup his cheeks, the kiss so soft and tender as though it could replace everything that couldn’t be said between them. I’m so sorry this is how it has to be, it said, I’ve loved you for so long, it said.
The two parted and Martin looked at Jon for a long moment, drinking in the sight, his thumb gently rubbing along Jon’s cheekbone. “You’re beautiful. Do you know that?”
Jon scoffed.
“No, really.”
“Half my body is covered in scars from worms burrowing in me and I look like I haven’t slept in a year, really Martin, it’s okay-”
“God, just shut up for a moment. I’m only going to get to look at you and tell you how beautiful you are once. Let me do it.”
Jon remained silent.
“Thank you. Tim and Sasha used to make fun of me relentlessly, you know. I think they knew I had a thing for you before I knew. You were just so serious all the time, you’d get in this groove when you were working and I don’t know, something about your determination just, ah...I liked it. And the few times we could get you to laugh, you had this smile that lit up your entire face.
“I like you, Jon. I liked you more after Jane Prentiss because we went through it together, I couldn’t care less about the scars. Hell, I liked you when you were framed for murder. I like the sound of your voice and I like how you hum whatever song is stuck in your head when you think nobody will hear and I like how unbelievably strong you are, and none of that is going to change. But I also love your hair this long, and I love the color of your eyes, and I like the way you look when you’re thinking hard, or when you’re happy, or even just when you’re sleeping and you finally look calm. You’re beautiful. You were before all the scars and you are with them. I don’t want you to ever forget that.”
“You liked me, all the way back when….”
“Jon, I was perfectly content when I heard you were going to be my new boss because it meant regardless of anything I would get to look at you more. I think I liked you on some level from the start.”
Jon pulls Martin back in for another kiss, and then another.
“I am,” Jon says in-between kisses, “ so sorry for how I treated you at first.”
Martin giggled before leaning back in for another kiss. “Yeah, you were a dick.”
“I don’t know how to ever be sorry enough.”
“Mmm,” Martin’s breath hitched as Jon deepened the kiss. “I think this works fine.”
Jon knew it didn’t, but he also knew he would be happy to spend the rest of his life trying to properly apologize. If he got to spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to Martin, getting to let him know how incredible he was every day, he could finally see himself starting to wake up peacefully.
They shared kisses on the couch all evening, sharing stories from better times in their lives with hushed voices, as if everything would shatter if they talked too loudly. They stared at each other openly, and in any other circumstance Jon was sure the sudden intimacy would be too much, but he let Martin look. He let Martin drink him in. He was too busy memorizing how many freckles Martin had on his cheeks to really care.
Once it got dark they moved to the bedroom. Jon began to undo the buttons of his button-down in favor of one of the old shirts he’d brought along before he noticed Martin’s eyes glued to his chest. He felt himself burn up slightly, not used to the attention.
“What?” He asked, putting his hands on his hips, his shirt opening to the sides around the last two buttons still in place.
“Nothing! Nothing! I just, um, never saw you without a shirt on before. That’s all.”
Jon stood still for a moment. Then he very slowly and deliberately unbuttoned the last two buttons of his shirt, slid himself out of the left sleeve, then the right sleeve, all without breaking eye contact with Martin.
“Jon?” Martin asked, his voice small.
“I don’t, ah...hm. I want to be clear. I’m not...I have a, um, complicated relationship with, ah...sex.”
“Jon, I know you’re asexual.”
“Oh, thank god,” Jon sighed and Martin laughed. “Wait, how?”
“Um, office gossip at first, and then Georgie mentioned something once.”
Jon rolled his eyes. “Yeah, alright. Figures. Is that okay, though?”
“I already knew. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t.”
“Hm. I suppose.”
“Jon, we never need to have sex. I enjoy sex, and I would enjoy having sex with you, but I like being with you and seeing you happy and well more than anything. If we’re going through with this tomorrow we’re in it for the long haul. I’m in it for the long haul. Okay?”
“I love you,” Jon said before he could think, and his face flushed as soon as he realized what he said. Martin beamed.
“I love you too.” He said.
They kept kissing after that, eventually stripping down to just their underwear, hands and mouths reaching for any square inch of skin they could find. Martin’s fingers ran along Jon’s ribs where he was missing two, Jon kissed Martin’s stretch marks on his shoulders and down his stomach. They tried their best to make mental maps of each other’s bodies, to burn the image into their memories forever in the soft light from the single lamp on the nightstand. It was soft and slow, their fingertips brushing against each other like feathers. They were in no rush.
They fell asleep tangled in each other’s arms and woke up that way, too.
Martin had needed more time in the hospital, in the end. They healed well, though they both had irreparable damage to their eyes, rendering them permanently blind. Jon tried to sound upset at the news but sounded more constipated than anything. Martin had to stifle a laugh.
It was hard, but they had each other. They both had nightmares and had times where they needed to be alone. Martin would stub his toe and find himself becoming so frustrated that he just needed to sit down and breathe until it passed. There were days Jon couldn’t bring himself to get out of bed.
Jon was no longer so hopelessly linked with the institute, but The Beholder didn’t leave him alone entirely. Or so he thought. He could feel it pressing up against his thoughts but he couldn’t quite tell if it was truly the entity or if it was his own trauma refusing to leave him alone. There were days Jon would wake up from a nightmare convinced today was the day it was all going to catch up to them, and then it didn’t. It took him quite a few false alarms for him to begin to allow himself to calm down.
They tore through the audiobooks Martin had brought, choosing to spend their days pressed against each other listening to their favorite ones over and over. The cabin could get a little chilly but it was always warm under the blankets with their bodies close together.
Neither of them had expected their lives to turn out this way. There were so many other lives they could have led; what if they never worked for the institute, what if they never worked in the archives, what if they knew about everything sooner, what if they had made better choices along the way, what if Jon actually died, what if Martin didn’t agree, what if, what if, what if?
There were a million universes out there where they were so much happier, alive and well and untraumatized getting together on their own time. There were a million more universes where things had ended up much, much worse. They figured all things considered, they hadn’t ended up with such a terrible deal after all.
They didn’t have a plan for the long-term. Eventually they’d need money. Eventually they’d need to get their own place. But for now, they were adjusting, taking it one day at a time.
For now Martin would wonder something out loud and Jon would excitedly tell him he didn’t have the faintest idea, desperately reaching for his phone so he could record the question to ask Siri when they went closer into town where there was a signal. Despite everything Jon was still hungry for knowledge, though he relished in the fact that he got to choose when and what he learned about.
“It used to tell me the twist to every goddamn movie I tried to watch,” Jon told Martin one day.
“Oh my god. That’s hilarious, I’m so sorry-”
“Every. Single. Movie. No, every piece of media. No movies, no tv shows, no books, no podcasts. Every single one was spoiled. Martin, it drove me up the wall. I was stuck working for an institute that served a godlike eldritch fear entity and I couldn’t even unwind with a nice book.”
Martin’s shoulders shook as he laughed. “I’m so sorry, love. I’ll make sure to get you some good mystery audiobooks next.”
“Martin? I would love that.”
Martin didn’t need to see Jon to know he was smiling.
Martin didn’t need to see Jon to feel him relax after being handed a cup of tea. He didn’t need to see him to know he practically melted when Martin ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t need to see him to swallow the tiny noises Jon made when they kissed. He didn’t need to see him to tell him that he loved him, or to laugh with him, to wake up next to him.
They were going to be okay.