How great is the pain of loving someone who’s avoiding you? Too great, I would say. To know why is often little comfort, Jon knew that Martin was working with Peter Lukas but know why does not stop you needing to know why.
To know so much, to know information you shouldn’t, even to be able to know where Martin was, at times! It doesn’t help. It hinders. You could know every piece of factual information in the world but it will never reveal to you the intricacies of human emotion.
Jon’s very soul is embedded with that undying need to understand, to know! And to lose someone who’s always been so open, so understanding to that need, so willing to help, provide any information, conform to his needs… To lose that at such a terrible time in his life? What more could that do that deepen the maddening desire to know and understand WHY.
Martin always thought he understood why, whenever anyone left like that. Obviously it was him, who else would it be? He wasn’t good enough, he didn’t do enough, didn’t give enough. But when he left Jon what cause would he have to believe that he’d think that? Jon, always so sure of himself, so committed, so strong; he’d never be insecure. Martin would be able to leave him to protect him, and I’m sure he believed that Jon would barely miss him.
The pain of a thing like this often lies in the small details, the things you never really notice when they’re happening, but that stab you in the gut when you realise they’re gone. The morning cups of tea, the gentle insights into eachother’s projects, short conversations over hurried lunch breaks, subtly prolonged goodbyes at the end of a workday…
Stumbling into a cold, empty break room where you might once have had a nice chat (out of politeness of course, nothing more… ) to find yourself alone, the kettle still warm, freshly boiled.
The pain of loving someone who’s left is immense, and so much more so when you’ve only just admitted to yourself that that love is there.