2021-10-24 5:57:13 ¶ ●

This ficlet is called Martin Apologizes To Jon For Laughing At Him At Upton House. (I don’t have a catchy title. Titles are the worst.) This is also long!

Jon and Martin walk through something that appears to be grass if you don’t look too closely. From a distance, it’s green and thin and pointy, but walking through it, it’s obvious that it’s something far…deadlier.

Jon is oddly silent, a million thoughts running through his head. Mostly, he’s thinking of what had happened at Salesa’s. The memory is fading fast, which is so unusual for Jon it makes him feel as though the world is spinning. The fear of billions doesn’t help—spinning spinning around and around it never stops and never slows as the world blurs and colors warp and

Right. Jon sighs. Martin looks over at him with concern. A sudden wave of pettiness comes over Jon, and he pretends to ignore it. The act makes his stomach wrench in guilt, but…Jon can’t get past the fact that Martin had laughed at him while at Salesa’s. Laughed at him with, well, a villain to be fantastical, while he was helpless and confused. Annabelle had been there too, a spider lurking in the shadows while he could not defend himself. It was like he was eight years old again, running from bullies, reading horrific books.

Jon cannot bring himself to hate Martin for it. It would be antithetical to his nature, would tear him up from the inside. But the fact still remains that Martin had made him feel awful. Martin was…he was supposed to be on his side. And he wasn’t, exactly when he should have been completely so.

Jon’s afraid to bring it up, though. Afraid he’ll be belittled, that his experiences will be invalidated. He can feel it behind his eyes as it occurs to him how awful that is, that he can’t trust his own boyfriend to be kind. A warmth gathers there along with a squeezing sensation, like tears are being milked out of him, and he shakes his head. He’d faced things a lot worse than his own boyfriend, hadn’t he? Here goes nothing, he supposes.

“Martin,” he starts. Martin looks over at him again. “Martin, I…I, uh.” He takes a breath.

“Yeah?” says Martin.

“At—At Salesa’s. I, I don’t remember much about it, but I remember that you—you laughed at me. I was confused, and, and you laughed at me for it,” says Jon. He can’t look at Martin. He doesn’t know what he’ll see, and he doesn’t know how he’ll react. (Well. Jon supposes he could just Know, but he doesn’t want to know.) Martin sighs.

“Yeah. Sorry about that. I’m surprised you remembered, honestly. It didn’t seem like a big deal to me, I guess.” Jon looks up at him then in disbelief, expression icy.

Jon barely, barely manages to keep his voice level, to keep the hurt and frustration below the surface. Martin might still be able to hear it, he doesn’t know. “It didn’t seem like a big deal.” His voice is more scornful than it’s been when pointed at Martin than at any time in the last two years plus the ineffable amount of time spent in hell on Earth. Martin looks surprised, almost scared, at the level of scorn in his voice. Jon Knows that his pupils are dilating at the fear and only takes a second to indulge in self-loathing.

Jon feels awful about this. He doesn’t want to make Martin feel bad. But…Martin had made him feel bad. Jon wanted Martin to know that. Martin had hurt him. By all means, he should feel bad about it. Right? It doesn’t help Jon feel less guilty about it.

He softens his voice. “Martin…Martin, it was a big deal to me. I…I don’t think…” Jon stops. Tries again. “I don’t know that you’re that good at, at empathizing with people.” Martin hums at that, surprised, but doesn’t say anything, mercifully. “And, and that doesn’t make you a bad person. It just means, it means that you have to be compassionate, to understand that…to understand what people are going through. And you…uh, you didn’t do that. At Upton House. Do you…agree so far?” he asks, hesitantly. Martin is silent for a while as they continue walking. The terrain has changed from sharpened grass to snow that erases the footprints after you walk on it. Why there’s snow, Jon has no idea. But that is a thought for later.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Martin says, sighing. He sounds defeated. “I guess I know that. I’ve always had to learn what people wanted, what they were feeling. I thought that, that everyone did that? But maybe not as much as I did. So I made people tea and I did all those nice things. I thought it was enough?” The last sentence is a question. Not a pointed one, a genuine one. Jon is relieved Martin agrees with him about this. The tension unspools from his stomach and leaves it free to fill with fresh air again. (The air’s true freshness is debatable, but it doesn’t matter. It certainly feels fresh.)

“I, uh. I think it usually is? I mean. Don’t get me wrong, Martin, you are for the most part a kind person. You do want to do good. I know that. But there are times, like at Upton House, where it isn’t enough.” Jon sighs again. “Martin…at Upton House, I felt so helpless. So confused. I’ve, I’ve relied on the Eye for what feels like so long. And not only was I deprived of that, I was less than that in terms of, of mental clarity. I was so helpless. And Salesa was, was gloating. And, and you were right there, gloating with him.” Jon can’t keep the hurt out of his voice, but it doesn’t matter. There isn’t even anger, only hurt, somehow. Jon had thought he’d be angrier. “You, you laughed and you said, you said I’d behave myself. It was demeaning, Martin. I was powerless. Salesa, and, and Annabelle, I suppose, they had the power. And you, and you seemed to revel in my powerlessness. I don’t know that you truly meant to, but…it hurt, Martin.” Jon knows tears glisten in his eyes now. He doesn’t need the Eye to know that.

Martin had closed his eyes during Jon’s speech, and now he opened them. Jon had reached out with the gentlest Knowing to find that Martin was imagining how he must have felt. Jon is glad.

Now Martin stops walking. Jon stops as well, and Martin turns towards him. “Jon, I’m sorry,” he says. “I realize that I hurt you, that I assisted in, in making you feel helpless. I should have been on your side, and I wasn’t. I’m sorry for that. I won’t do it again. I promise. I think…I’ve felt like I was second fiddle to you, that you had all the attention. And I know it’s not your fault, Jon,” he says when Jon starts to speak. “I really, really know. And that’s my problem to solve. It’s…I think I’m just so tired of being Lonely, I’m also tired of being ignored? I—I guess I shouldn’t make you worry about it. It’s on me to deal with that.” Jon nods slowly and smiles.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says. “I accept your apology. And…I think I can forgive you, if you don’t do that again.” Martin nods fervently. Jon chuckles. “I want you to know that I don’t see you as less than me. I never have. To me, both—we’re both just us. Avatars, humans, people, whatever. You are Martin Blackwood. And that is everything to me.” Martin nods. They hug.

“Yeah, Jon. I know. It wouldn’t…that would never occur to you. I know that,” Martin says. “I’m glad you told me you were hurt.”

“Well, I’m glad you apologized,” says Jon. His tone is dry, but he does mean it.