It actually hurts me to think about how after ending the world, Jon might have tried to push Martin away, because he’s Jon, and his guilt eats him up, and he won’t let Martin forgive him and tell him it’s not his fault when Jon knows better, knows this is his failure and each scar on his body marks another trap he blindly walked into, and Martin can’t just ignore the monster Jon has become, he can’t just stay and deny Jon the comfort of hating himself in peace-
And Martin doesn’t care, doesn’t care about Jon’s outbursts and his anger and his guilt, he doesn’t care that Jon trembles when he touches him with fingers too gentle and loving, doesn’t care about the tears of rage and wretched sorrow that soak into Martin’s shirt as he holds Jon close, tears spilled in grief for a world he condemned and the man he used to be before the monster killed him.
Martin refuses to leave, refuses to take his love away no matter how much Jon begs him. It’s not fair, and it hurts when Martin’s eyes land on him, their aching softness tearing at the rotten edges of self-hatred festering in Jon’s chest.
“No, Jon”, Martin says, loving him, and there’s nothing Jon can do but accept it. “I’m not going to be another thing you use to break yourself with.”