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Chapter Text

Jon hoisted the pile of books in his arms, shifting and leaning back slightly to support the large stack that ended just under his nose. He probably could have made two trips, but that would take too long, and he didn't want to leave Elias waiting. He shuffled down the long corridor, his arms aching as the books seemed to get heavier with every moment. He all but kicked the library door open before he rushed to the counter, his arms shaking as he dropped the books to the counter with a heavy thud, startling the person behind the counter who released a panicked noise. Jon let out a labored breath as his eyes met the wide ones of - hm, who is this? His eyes searched for Rosie, but she was nowhere to be seen.

"Sorry," Jon breathes and attempts a weak smile, "Didn't want them to be overdue." His heart thuds guiltily in his chest. This is just what he needs - to preemptively scare the new staff around here. Most people are already keen on avoiding him besides his research assistants, Tim and Sasha, so he mentally kicked himself. He shouldn't be making bad impressions. Elias wouldn't like to hear he's scared off yet another new employee.

"O-Oh that's -" the slightly taller individual stuttered, their freckled cheeks flushing a soft pink as their eyes flicked to the large pile of books and back to Jon. "That's uhm… qu-quite alright." 

Jon nods, his eyebrows curling together as some gray strands of hair fall against his cheek. Jon tilts his head quizzically as he watches this newcomer smile softly while they begin to scan the books back into the system. Jon can't quite make out the name tag on this person's sweater as they move. "You're new." Jon thinks out loud. It's not a question, more of an observation as the person turns to meet his gaze, a smile on their lips. Jon's heart stutters for a moment. 

"Yes! I - uh - I just started today actually." 

"Oh, well," Jon shifted, his eyes landing back to the pile of books before he murmured, "Welcome to the Academy. What's your name?" His eyes land on the newcomer's hand. It was pale and freckled - it looked soft and -

"Oh! Martin Blackwood!" Martin beams and turns to point to his name tag. Jon notes the he/him sticker on the corner, and he feels a gentle warmth settle in his stomach. He watches Martin for a moment. He takes in the gentle bounce of the light ginger curls atop his head, the constellation of freckles adorning his cheeks, the soft muted pink of his sweater - and - oh, that warm, gentle smile while he works. 

"So, uhm... psychology?" Martin asks quietly as he scans another textbook into the system. He was spooked when this person came in and dropped a heavy load of books on the counter, their hair in their flushed face as they huffed a breath. But, their presence wasn't all that intimidating as soon as Martin's heart fluttered back to it's normal rate. Although, the quizzical little look on this person's face as they tried to make out who he is was in fact, quite adorable. 

"Ah - yes. I'm - I'm the head of the Psychology department, Jon Sims," Jon introduced himself, keeping his hands curled in his jumper's long sleeves. He doesn't do hand shakes. "I also study parapsychology and the Unknown…" He trails off for a moment and Martin looks at him, a patient air about him as Jon murmurs while he shifts on his feet, his fingers curling tighter into the fabric of his sleeves. "Uh, he.. he they pronouns, for me." 

Martin raises his eyebrows a bit, a smile tugging on his lips. "Nice to meet you Jon! And your pronouns are noted!" Martin gestured slightly, a happy little movement before his eyes pool with curiosity. "What's… well, hm. This might be… s-stupid to ask, but what's the Unknown?" 

Jon felt his own smile tug at his lips and a shy chuckle fall from his lips as he scratched at the back of his neck. "It’s not stupid, Martin. Uhm… it's - it's a bit hard to explain -"

Jon's buzzing phone jerked him from this pleasant conversation and his eyes widened as he flicked his wrist out to check his watch. He gulped and fished his phone from his pocket, seeing the familiar caller ID glare up at him. "S-Sorry, Martin, I have to go. I'm - I'm late for something," Jon explains as he starts to walk backwards, his heart suddenly racing. His eyes flick up to Martin's confused ones as he rushes out, "I'll tell you some other time," before he slips out of the library door. Martin blinks at the door for a moment before a soft chuckle falls from his lips. So he got to meet the quirky, cute Psychology professor today. He considered that a win. 

Jon quickened his pace as he pressed the phone up to his ear. "E-Elias dear," Jon started.

Elias let out a disappointed sigh on the other end of the line. "Jonathan. You're late."

Jon's lips twitched as he rushed through the corridors and up the stairs. His knees twinged with pain, but the elevator was out of his way as he breathed out, "I know, I'm sorry. I'm two minutes away."

Elias was silent for a moment and Jon's heart sank to the pit of his stomach as he prepared for an argument, but Elias simply said in a flat tone, "Fine." And promptly hung up.

Jon paused for a moment to catch his breath as he pressed a flat palm against the wall. His knees wobbled slightly as students passed through the halls and looked at him curiously. "Professor Sims?" A familiar student filled his view as they asked, "Are you quite alright?"

Jon forced a smile on his lips as he straightened. "Yes, thank you Samantha. I'm just late, as always," Jon explained, tacking on a false laugh at the end. 

Samantha smiled too, and she shook her head with a chuckle, "Well alright then. I'll see you tomorrow in class!" She started off, waving a brief goodbye before she turned. Jon sagged into himself for a moment before jogging the rest of the way to Elias' office. 

He slowed to a stop in front of the heavy hardwood door and let out a shuddered breath, running a hand through his hair nervously. He ran his fingers over his jumper - a self soothing ritual - before knocking on the door and pushing the door open. He looked around sheepishly, finding Elias sitting on the plush couch in his office. He watched Elias twist his wrist to peer at his watch, a frown tugging at his lips as Jon shuffled over to him with a meek, "Hi."

Elias raised an eyebrow at him as he said back in a flat tone, "Jonathan."

Jon slouched as he stood next to the couch. "You're mad," Jon murmured, his fingers fidgeting with his sleeves.

"Stop it," Elias nearly snapped and gripped at Jon's hands. Jon winced as Elias tugged Jon to the couch. Jon sat stiffly next to Elias and Elias frowned. "Relax , Jonathan. I'm not mad," Elias' voice was smooth and low as his fingers crawled across Jon's back. "You just know how much I miss you," Elias murmured.

"I-I-" Jon swallowed and shifted against Elias. 

Elias pressed his nose to Jon's hair, breathing in before murmuring next to his ear, "What were you doing? Who were you talking to?" 

"Oh, uhm, I - I dropped off some books at the library," Jon said and he felt his heart flutter as he remembered Martin and his soft pink sweater. "I got distracted though, I was looking for a book on Phrenology - one of my students has questions about it - and- and I lost track of time," Jon lied. Elias has a tendency to… intimidate new people in Jon's life. Most of them don't stay. 

Elias pulled away, reaching out to brush a strand of loose hair behind Jon's ear. "You need a haircut. Did you meet the new librarian?" 

Jon felt himself frown as he turned in Elias' grasp. "I kinda like it like this though," Jon murmured as he bit back the urge to fiddle with Elias' jacket. He avoided the question as he peered into Elias' dark eyes.

Elias hummed. "I'm sorry, but it's far too unprofessional. I'll schedule you for next week. Now tell me," Elias leant down, his nose brushing against Jon's as his fingers ghosted his hip. "The new librarian, did you meet him?" 

Jon felt his breath hitch and he closed his eyes to avert his gaze as he reached out. "The new librarian's male?" Jon didn't open his eyes as Elias hummed, pressing his lips to the corner of Jon's mouth, pulling Jon closer with the press of his fingers into Jon's side. Jon scooted closer, wrapping his arms around Elias' waist as he dropped his forehead to Elias' shoulder. "Interesting," He murmured before adding on thoughtfully, "It will be good for Rosie. She gets so stressed all by herself down there." 

Jon felt Elias' grasp twitch a bit too hard for a moment and Jon bit back a wince as Elias composed himself, smoothing his palm over Jon's jumper and holding him close. "You know I don't like her," Elias said, his voice teetering on the edge of dark.

Jon hummed as he tilted his head up to press a kiss to Elias' jaw before giggling, "You don't like anyone." 

Jon watched as Elias smiled, and his heart jumped in his chest happily, proud to see his partner beam down at him. It was almost a rarity. "I love you ," Elias crooned as he crowded Jon on the couch, pressing into him with quick kisses to his nose, cheeks, and lips.

Jon laughed as he embraced the sudden comfort, his mind temporarily forgetting the fear that weighed his body down not five minutes ago. Elias kissed at his lips again, looking down at Jon expectantly. Jon squeezed Elias gently as he murmured, "I love you too." His smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

Chapter Text

"Have you met the new librarian?" Tim whispered to Sasha while they sorted through some student research. 

"No, but I heard he's quite the catch," Sasha mumbled back. A small laugh fell from her lips as she held up a paper, "This is the tenth paper on dream telepathy. I wish these kids would yanno - mix it up." 

Tim chuckled back in response before mumbling, "He is quite the cutie, but also like - freakishly nice." Tim scrunched up his nose a bit and Sasha sent Tim a look. "What?!" Tim cried. 

"What's wrong with being overly nice, Timothy?" Sasha asked as she folded her hands over the stack of research papers. 

"Nothing! I just - you know what I mean!" Tim almost shouts, grabbing the attention of Jon who was sitting at his desk. 

Jon looked to his bickering assistants before adding in quietly, "He does seem nice. Sasha, you should go say hello. You can uh - here," Jon said, fiddling with some junk on his desk before pulling a small leather-bound book from some void within his mess. "You could take this to the library for me?" Jon murmured the last bit hopefully, his tone tilting up at the implied question. 

Sasha looked at Jon and smiled, "As much as I want to meet the new, cute, freakishly nice librarian. I have to finish looking over your students' work. Do you know how many of them picked dream telepathy for this assignment?" Jon looked at her, his hopeful expression fleeting. "Unless... you want to do it?"

Jon felt his face twist with a grimace. "No, no. This is why I have you guys. I'll… I'll return it," Jon mumbled as he flipped the book in his hands. He stood from his desk, shouldering his bag up and on. He glanced at Sasha and pointed with the book, "You will put any actual good papers on my desk, yes?" 

Sasha grinned and pointed to a very sad, very small stack of papers. "I always do! I'll have it done by tomorrow."

Jon smiled warmly at her, shifting his weight slightly as he praised, "Good. Tim," He turned his gaze over to Tim. He was making paper airplanes out of recyclable paper. Jon chuckled, his chest warm and filled happily. "Just keep doing -" Jon gestured, "Whatever this is. Please clean up any mess." Tim was a great researcher. He always astounded Jon with his impeccable work, so he let Tim slide on any busywork he might prescribe them. Sasha always seems to enjoy working on the students' research, so there is a good balance to his team. 

"You got it boss!" Tim chirped with a thumbs up. 

Jon gave an awkward thumbs up back, making Tim burst out into a cackle and Sasha a gentle giggle. He left them to their work as he slid out of the classroom. He should probably hurry - Elias invited - no - demanded Jon have dinner with him at some overly fancy place that Jon hates, and Jon would rather not make him wait. Again. He padded down the empty hall, his footsteps echoing almost eerily if it weren't for the warm evening sunlight that flowed through the windows. Jon reveled in it for a moment, letting the heat fold over his features like a fluffy blanket fresh from the dryer. He hummed, his eyes slipping shut as he slowed to enjoy it.

"Uhm."

Jon jumped as his eyes snapped open to see Martin standing next to him, his eyes curiously worried. "Oh good lord -" Jon sighed and pressed a hand to his chest. His heart bumped against his rib cage painfully as Martin held up his hands apologetically. " Martin . You -" Jon breathed through his nose as a weak smile captured his lips, "You just scared me. Sorry for overreacting." 

Martin's lips turned down in confusion before he laughed sheepishly, "No no, It's okay. I'm sorry for spooking you. You were just… it looked like you might have spaced out a bit. You've been standing here for a couple minutes now." 

Jon blinked as he let out a soft, "O-Oh, I…" He trailed off, feeling suddenly very bashful. He swallowed and shifted nervously, running his hand up and over the sleeve of his sweater. "It’s warm," Jon said, his eyes traveling from Martin's to the courtyard through the window. The soft evening light cascaded gentle shadows through the leaves and over the well cared for garden. "It's nice. It's… somehow always chilly here - at the Academy… so I just…" 

"Oh yeah, I - I totally agree with you on that one," Martin said from beside Jon. He wore a small smile and Jon felt surprisingly comfortable in his presence. Jon turned to blink at Martin, shrugging his shoulder a bit to readjust his bag before his realized -

"Oh! I was just bringing this book back -" Jon suddenly said before rummaging in his bag. Martin watched as one of the straps fell from Jon's shoulder before Jon held out a small book. "Would you mind? I've got bad - well - everything. Bad knees, hips, elbows - you get the gist -  and I need to go up to El- er, Mr. Bouchard's office." Martin took the book from Jon's outstretched hand, their fingers brushing. Jon jerked back slightly and Martin was about to apologize when Jon just stuttered out quickly, "I-I have to go now, Martin. But it was lovely to see you again," Jon started to walk backwards, his heart thudding with a gentle glee as Martin cast a small smile towards him. Jon likes Martin’s smile. "Oh! I still have to tell you what the Unknown is - I didn't forget!" Jon spoke louder as he turned with a slight wave before shuffling back down the hallway towards the main offices. 

Martin tilted his head as he pulled his arm to his chest, his eyes following Jon curiously. " Hm ," Martin hummed to himself. He noted the slight limp to Jon's walk and the new shortness to his hair. It was handsome, but Martin thought the longer locks suited Jon more. He shrugged. It wasn't his hair and he wouldn't stop anyone from doing what they wanted as long as it made them happy. He looked outside, and for a moment he basked in the warm sunlight. It is nice.

Martin was on his way back to the library before he caught Jon spacing out, so he stepped in the right direction and continued. There were students sitting at the tables, their voices hushed as they compared notes. Martin felt himself smile fondly as he remembered the times he holed up in a library. Maybe for different reasons, but he loves it here regardless. He took a seat behind the counter before opening the small black book. He pulled out the card in the front pocket and couldn't help the fascinated look that crossed his features. He runs his fingers over the slanted handwriting in the checkout log. The library doesn't use this method anymore - they haven't for years. It is as simple as scanning the barcode taped to the inside of the book.

Jonathan Sims. 

Martin felt himself smile as another wave of curiosity pooled over him. 

Jonathan Sims.

Jonathan Sims.

Jonathan Sims.

And so on. It seemed as if Jon was the only one who checked out this book. It was a small book, a trilogy of short mysteries. Martin had read it back in Uni. It was a good read. Not exactly the best mystery he's ever read, but he's not here to judge. 

He typed into the computer, and his eyes scanned over the numerous times Jon checked out the book. He wondered why Jon hasn't just bought a copy for himself as he marked it Returned . He placed it on the cart next to the counter before walking into the office behind the front desk. "Rosie?" Martin asked quietly. 

Rosie, a small woman with a neat blonde ponytail and warm eyes, glanced up at him from her seat, "What is it, Martin? Do you need help with the label maker again?" 

Martin flushed at the mention of that damned label maker. The thing hated him! "N-No, no. Uhm… do you know anything about Professor Sims?" 

Rosie's smile grew, "He checked out the book again, didn't he?" Martin came fully into the room now, thoughtful fingers dancing onto Rosie's desk as Martin hummed. Rosie shuffled her papers in order as she spoke. "Professor Jonathan Sims… he's something alright. I'm sure he's read every book in this library at least once." 

Martin's eyes widened, "That's -"

"Seemingly impossible, I know. But he eats books up like they're nothing. I always lend him our list of new books to see if he's interested, and he always is. It could be the most boring thing in the world and he'd read it." Rosie's smile radiated fondness. "He has favorites. You'll know them when you see them, for example the… hmm… was it a small black leather-bound book?" 

"Yes! Yes, it was," Martin squeaked excitedly. Martin didn't think there was someone who loves books as much as he does - someone who maybe loves books more than Martin. 

Rosie's cheeks held a happy blush as she preened, "That's his favorite favorite. He's been checking out that book since before I started at the institute, and it's been a while. He got all his smarts here."

"I see," Martin breathed with wonder as he pictured Jon curled up with a book in his lap. 

"He's a very good person, albeit… Odd, but lovely all around his sharp edges. He can be a bit sassy sometimes but -" Rosie sighed as her eyes drifted down to the papers on her desk. "Do be kind to him, Martin." 

Martin nodded, "I will. Thank you." He made his way to the door, pausing in the doorframe. He then hovered for a moment before asking quietly. "What about Mr. Bouchard?" 

Rosie's eyes snapped up to meet Martin's as she spoke slowly, quietly, "Try your best to stay away from him, Martin." 

Martin's eyebrows furrowed as he stammered, "Wh-Why? He's the one who hired me -"

"He," Rosie starts, "Is… a difficult man to read. I wouldn't trust him with my friendship, so I suggest you keep it strictly professional." 

Martin swallowed at the warning before he tapped on the doorframe lightly. "I'll uh - I'll keep that in mind. Thanks again Rosie." 

Rosie's smile returned, her eyes crinkling with that same warmth as earlier. "Not a problem, Martin."

Chapter Text

"I know you lied to me," Elias said as soon as Jon walked into the kitchen. The luring scent of dinner was nothing but bait as Jon blinked up at Elias with confusion.

"W-What are you talking about?" Jon stammered as he shoved his shaking hands into his hoodie's pocket. The day had been fine - they - they cuddled on the couch all morning - Jon read curled up in Elias’ office while he worked - Jon brought him coffee and did all the chores -

"You." Elias started, taking a step towards Jon with each word. "Lied . To. Me." 

"N-No - Dear - whatever are you talking about?" Jon asked as he forced himself to reach up and smooth his hands over Elias' shoulders. Elias set his jaw as he stared down at Jon. Jon could barely keep a straight face, his smile faltering when Elias reached up to grip at one of his wrists. He squeezed hard and Jon winced, his body cringing in on itself. 

"The librarian - Martin -'' Elias speaks with such venom; Jon hates the way Elias says his name, as if it were a deadly plague. "You met him. You met him two weeks ago, and you lied to me," Elias growled as he pressed his fingers deep into Jon’s wrist, bruising the pliant tan skin there. 

Jon felt his façade crumble under the crushing grasp of Elias' grip. "Okay!" Jon squeaked, his eyes squeezing shut, "Okay okay! I l-lied! But only because -" 

His words were cut off as Elias pushed him back into the counter. Jon let out a pained sound - his voice laced with panic as he breathed a harsh wheeze while Elias growled in his ear, "Because? " Jon’s back ached. He didn’t need to look in the mirror later to see the newly formed bruises making a home on his skin next to the older ones. 

Jon felt anger boil in his stomach - a mix of pain and guilt and embarrassment as he shouted in a brief moment of defiant confidence, "Because he was nice! He was really nice!” Jon was shaking as his voice started to simmer under Elias’ sharp gaze, “And… And… I don’t want you to scare him off. I - I think we could be friends if you just - just let me try." His voice was a mere whisper as he pleaded, “Please.”

Elias studied Jon, making Jon squirm under that tight grasp as he kept the pleading look on his face. Elias’ grip faltered for a moment as Jon looked at him with curled up eyebrows. Elias’ face slowly fell, his hand dropping to the counter, caging Jon in as he shuddered out, "I'm sorry."

Jon's heart palpitated beneath his lungs as he hissed, " Are you Elias? Are you really sorry?" Jon slapped a hand over his mouth with wide eyes. He was still so angry - at himself - at Elias - and it seeped out of him when he wasn’t careful. Elias’s eyes snapped up to Jon’s, and he shrunk under Elias’ gaze until it morphed into what it used to look like before …

Jon felt his hand slip from his mouth as Elias dropped his gaze to the floor, his shoulders slouching slightly. Jon sighed as he pressed his palms to Elias' chest. "Okay, okay," Jon murmured. "Bad paperwork?" Jon asked quietly. It was always bad paperwork, or Jon himself. Elias nodded and Jon almost crooned, but he was still upset as he suggested, "Do you want to go lay down?" 

"I'd like that," Elias murmured as he reached up to caress Jon’s cheek. Jon flinched away. 

"C-C’'mon then," Jon encouraged as he pressed against Elias, wanting to get away from the counter as his back hissed in pain. Elias allowed Jon to guide him up the stairs, but Elias suddenly stopped in the middle of the hallway causing Jon to jerk on his hand where he had laced their fingers together. "Elias?" Jon murmured, his eyes searching Elias' face. 

Elias squeezed Jon's hand, and then he was squeezing too hard as Jon let out a whimper, "E-"

"You're a liar," Hissed Elias as he tugged harshly on Jon's arm. He shoved him into the spare bedroom, yanking his hand from Jon's.

"Elias - p-please - I'm sorry - I won't -" Jon started to plead as those cold, dark eyes stared into his soul.

Elias shoved at Jon, his hand rising and colliding with the side of Jon's face with a loud smack. Jon stumbled to the side, and pained huff falling from his lips. "Nothing but a no good," Elias growled as he fisted Jon's shirt. " Liar ." He pushed Jon to the ground with a hiss, "You're worthless."

Jon scrambled to his knees as he pleaded, "Elias -" 

"You're a fucking waste of space, Jonathan. A worthless liar. Think about what you've done," Elias smiled, and Jon felt his heart shatter with fear at the sinister look. He tried to move quickly, but his joints cried out in pain as Elias turned from the room, slamming the door.

Jon heard the devastating familiarity of the door being locked shut and he sank to the floor. "Dammit," He breathed. His whole body trembled, his eyes throbbing. He crawled towards the door slowly, resting his body against it. Jon whimpered from his spot on the floor next to the door. "E-Elias, please," Jon cried softly, "Please let me out." He was met with a deafening silence and it made him sick. His stomach churned with pure anxiety as he thought about what could come next - literally anything as he wrapped his arms around himself, curling aching knees into his chest as he sobbed out a shuddered breath. He is worthless. He is nothing but a worthless liar . Jon hears the echoes of Elias' voice in the deepest corners of his mind. He simply can't escape.

Jon woke to strong arms curling under him, and panic surged through his veins. He must have fallen asleep in the midst of his sobbing. "There there," Elias murmured as if he didn't just slap Jon in the face a couple hours ago. Jon instinctively curled closer to Elias for fear of being dropped, his hands clutching at Elias' button up. Jon was placed gently on the spare bed - this was punishment in itself - and he felt his breath stick in his throat. They never used this room. It was for guests - unwelcome guests.

Jon’s mind began to spiral as he remembered last November and he desperately didn't want to repeat last November’s events - he didn’t want to be stuck in this lonely, cold room - all alone - 

Elias was touching him. Jon felt a hand on his thigh and he swallowed as he blinked unseeing eyes. Elias hasn't - hasn't ever pushed the act of sex onto Jon - but Jon still lived in constant fear. Those hands that traveled too far sometimes made him shudder. Elias thought Jon broken, irreparable because of his asexuality. Jon remembers him crooning about how he can love Jon this way - only he could love Jon. Only he could understand. 

Jon made a noise at the thought as he whimpered, " Elias ." His voice was hoarse from crying and Elias shushed him gently. 

"I brought you some tea," Elias said softly, and held the cup in Jon's view.

Jon hesitantly reached out for it, his eyes shamefully cast downwards as he murmured, "Thank you." 

Elias hummed, reaching down to press a kiss to the crown of Jon's head. "Drink up Jonathan, it will make you feel better."

Elias sat on the edge of the bed next to Jon's legs, and he waited patiently. Jon looked down into the amber liquid, the steam tickling his nose in a pleasant way. He took a small sip, and relished in the sweet fruity taste of chamomile tea. Warmth spread through his body and he let out a shaky sigh before repeating with a small smile, "Thank you." 

---

Jon hasn't been to the library in a week now, and Martin frowned at the overdue books in his account. Jon sometimes had a late book or two, but the library knew he was good to return them the day after, so Rosie and Martin never pestered him about it. When Jon didn't enter on the fifth day, he set out and down to his classroom. He pushed the door open, peaking into an otherwise empty room save for a few stray notebooks and pens. Martin hummed to himself before he traveled deeper inside. He was making his way to the small adjoining office when he passed by the research lab. Inside was Tim and Sasha. He met them not too long ago, and they seemed like pleasant enough people. He gave a short knock to the door before peeking his head in. 

"Martin!" Tim welcomed.

"Hi Martin," Sasha chuckled.

"Hey guys," He smiled. His eyes fell to their paper football and his smile turned to an accusing smirk, "Getting a lot of work done, are we?"

Tim nodded. "Tons of work. We're researching how much Sasha sucks at this game."

"Hey!" Sasha cried and slapped at Tim's arm from across the table playfully.

Martin laughed at Tim's pout before asking curiously, "Have you guys seen Professor Sims? He has a lot of overdue books." 

"Please, you know he likes to be called Jon," Tim started before his eyebrows scrunched together, "You didn't hear?" 

Sasha's eyes widened and she slapped herself on the forehead. "Of course he wouldn't - no one tells the librarians anything! Us included!" 

"Well I can't remember everything Sash," Tim whined.

Sasha just blew an annoyed puff of air through her nose before she turned full body towards Martin. "He's in hospital. Apparently some bad food poisoning and now pneumonia. He's… alright now, but gave us quite the shock Monday morning. He was white as a ghost, his eyes all bruised looking -" Martin sputtered for a moment as Sasha elaborated, "His eye bags. He has a tendency to not sleep." 

"Oh," Martin breathed. The room fell silent for a moment before he asked, "Do you mind telling me which hospital? I could bring him some books if he's going to be there much longer." 

Sasha and Tim both smiled up at him, their eyes soft. "Yea, it's Brighton Medical Center. You can't miss it."

"Thanks, now," Martin tried his best to intimidate, " Back to work ." 

Tim and Sasha chuckled as Tim called out, "You got it, boss!" 

---

Jon wheezed a broken breath, his body shaking with the chills as he stared boredly at the hospital television. He lazily flicked through the channels, his mind too foggy to really focus. He heard the faint sound of people shuffling in the hallway, and his eyes fell to a familiar head of soft curls. 

Martin hesitantly walked into the room with a quiet, "Hi Jon." 

Jon swallowed. "H-" He cringed, his words stuck in his throat as Martin held up his hands frantically.

"Nono, the nurses told me you lost your voice. I just came by to see how you're doing." Martin explained, a slight tint to his cheeks. Jon's eyes fell to the books in his hands and Martin's eyes sparkled with excitement as he set them on the bedside table. "Oh! These - These are for you. Borrowed them from the library, but you don't have to worry about giving them back right now. I thought it might be boring to be stuck in a hospital." Jon nodded and Martin sent him a sympathetic look as he happily adjusted the books into a neat, alphabetical stack. "I got you a bunch of stuff, since I don't know what you actually prefer." 

Jon felt himself smile, and behind the two his heart monitor jumped slightly. His eyes landed on the small black book and his smile grew as he reached out for it. He winced and Martin quickly handed him the book as he stammered, "Oh - Yes - Yes - of course I brought that one, though." Martin felt a great sense of pride as Jon ran his fingers over the book. He opened his mouth to say something, but his lips fell into an adorable pout. Martin's eyebrows curled together as he looked around the hospital room. He spotted a pen and paper on the other side of the room. "Oh! Here!" Martin said and quickly grabbed it, setting the table up for Jon to write. 

Jon watched him with an amused gaze, his lips turned up happily as Martin scampered about. 

Thank you. This is incredibly thoughtful , Jon wrote. 

Martin beamed down at him. "Of course! That's what friends do!" Jon's eyes widened at the statement and Martin started to stutter again, "Oh - uhm - if - if -" 

Jon quickly scratched onto the notepad, his words messy, We're friends? 

"Uhm, I would… like to be? If that's okay with you?" Martin asks quietly. He shifted from foot to foot as he watched Jon ponder what to write.

A small smile found its way onto Jon's lips as he wrote legibly, I'd like that very much, Martin.

Chapter Text

Martin beams when Jon walks back into the library with the stack of books Martin brought him a few days later. "Welcome back!" Rosie greeted from next to Martin.

"Yeah! Hey Jon, how are you feeling?" Martin asked as Jon set the books on the counter with a slight huff.

He still looked pale and tired, but less sickly as he sent them both warm smiles, "Thank you, Rosie, Martin. I'm feeling… better." Martin noted Jon’s slight hesitancy and the way his eyebrows furrowed slightly. 

"Good, good!" Rosie chirped as she reached for the huge stack of books.

"Oh Rosie I can -" Martin started, reaching out to steady the stack of books in her hands.

"Oh, no no, I've got it, please catch up with Jon for me," Rosie smiled warmly before disappearing into the back room with a stack of wobbling books. That woman was small, but strong as an ox.

"Oh...kay," Martin breathed and he glanced at Jon. Jon's gaze looked a bit distant as Martin murmured, "Jon?" 

Jon blinked back to reality as he fumbled with his sleeves, a heavy blush coating his cheeks, "S-Sorry, eh - you've caught me twice now." 

Martin's eyes crinkled in understanding, "That's okay, you must be tired from all the healing. Why don't you sit?" Martin asked, gesturing to a table not far away.

Jon felt himself deflate a little as he admitted, "I'd appreciate it."

Martin chuckled as he made his way around the front desk, slipping into the chair across from Jon. Jon shifted awkwardly. Martin could tell Jon was babying his left leg the moment he walked in. "So," Martin breathed.

"So," Jon echoed back as he adjusted his legs under the table. He folded his hands neatly on the table out of habit from instruction. You must always look presentable. 

"I was wondering how you felt about The Watchers Void?" Martin asked quietly, his voice trailing off as Jon looked at him. Martin couldn't quite place Jon's emotions as Jon leaned forward.

"I loved it," Jon grinned, and thus started the long babbling conversation of books and mysteries and gentle laughter as the two shared some of their favorite stories. The two grew more relaxed in each other's presence with every second, Martin's smile coming easily as Jon fawned over one of the books Martin let him borrow. Warm butterflies floated in his belly as Jon's eyes glistened with excitement while he mentioned, "The cat. The cat was my favorite character by far." 

It was a joke, surely, as Martin cracked into a wider smile as he breathed, "Yeah?" 

Jon nodded seriously. His posture was proper as he continued to nod and explain, "I love cats. Love them. Such precious beans." 

Martin felt himself breathe a laugh through his nose - beans? He felt the laugh bubble from his throat as he slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the hearty laughter. Jon froze, his eyebrows curling up with confusion. "Did I say something funny?" Jon asked in earnest.

Martin had to wave his hand, his breathing labored as he shuddered a laugh into his palm. It took a few moments to collect himself before he teased, "Beans?"

Jon nodded slowly, "Yes, beans." He spoke as if it were the most logical thing.

Martin huffed a gentle laugh again. "I'm sorry - I just - you saying beans - oof that's so -" Endearing. 

"Wh-What's that supposed to mean?" Jon stammered bashfully, his cheeks heating.

"Nono!" Martin laughed and reached out, placing his palm on the table. "It’s fine - It's - It's just unexpected is all." 

"Oh," Jon murmured, his face still written over with confusion.

Martin's cheeks hurt with a grin as he leant forward with a whisper, "Want to see my cat?"

Jon's eyes widened as he leaned forward with anticipation, "Yes. A million times yes." 

Martin hummed a laugh and pulled his phone from his pocket. He opened the folder in his phone that held all his cat pictures and slid it over to Jon. "Her name is Abby, Abby the Tabby." 

Jon stared with admiration at a photo of Abby. She was sitting on her cat perch, her chin tilted up at the photo taker. Her coat is a beautiful soft orange, lined with slightly darker stripes; Her eyes a soft yellow. Jon made a sound, his eyes squinting with happiness as he swipes to the next picture. "Oh she's just adorable," Jon croons. 

Martin rests his head in his hands as he watches Jon flick through the photos. He never fails to coo and caw at each one before he mentions briefly, "I must meet her."

Martin's heart fluttered in his chest as he replied softly, "That can be arranged." Realization slowly started to pool in his stomach, but he didn't mind his harmless crush as he watched Jon swipe through the rest of the photos. 

Jon sighs as he reaches the last one, sliding Martin's phone back over to him. His face is blissfully relaxed as he mumbles, "I needed that, thank you."

"You're very welcome Jon. Do you have a cat or…?" Martin trailed off again.

A flash of hurt flicked through Jon's eyes as he looked to the table with a sad smile. "I actually did. A couple years ago. A small black and white tuxedo cat but…" Jon swallowed. "He got out one day and - and got hit by a car."

Martin felt himself deflate as he reached out, "Oh Jon, I'm so sorry." 

Jon flinched a bit when Martin's hand landed on his, and his eyes fell nervously to that soft, freckled hand. Martin squeezed Jon's hand ever so gently before pulling away as he asked softly, "So you don't have one now?" 

Jon shook his head and suddenly his fingers were the most interesting. "After that, well. My partner has never really got along with cats… so I just haven't had a chance. It's…" Jon would never know that the cat was alive to this day. He would never know that Elias has taken it multiple cities over, dropped it off, and came back home with the terrible lie. All Jon knows is what Elias told him. You shouldn't take care of another living creature if you can't even take care of yourself. 

Jon jumped when he felt hands drop to his shoulders and a voice behind him, "Oh, I do miss the thing sometimes, though." 

Martin blinked. When did Elias get in here and - wait - 

"Elias?" Jon mumbled as he turned in his chair to peer up at the man. 

Elias smiled. It appeared soft, but behind it was a blatant jealousy that Jon could practically taste. "Hello my dear Jonathan," Elias crooned, his hands slipping to tilt Jons chin up. He bent down, pressing a light kiss to Jon's lips.

Jon tries to not freeze in place at this sudden display of public affection as he starts to stand. "Uhm - uh," Jon stammers as Elias' hand finds its way onto the small of Jon's back, steadying him slightly.

Elias smiled at Martin. It made his skin crawl.

"Don't worry Jonathan, we've met before. Right, Mr. Blackwood?" 

"Y-Yes sir," Martin replied as confusion and subtle repulsion mixed within him.

"Well then, I need to speak with Jonathan, so we'll be heading off. Say goodbye dear." Elias murmured the last bit as his hand brushed against Jon's sleeve.

Jon blinked. "Goodbye, Martin." His eyes were glazed over  with that same distance from earlier. It was alarming. 

Martin watched as they left, Elias' hand pressed firmly to Jon's back. He could have sworn he saw Jon flinch the moment that man touched him, but Martin couldn't be too sure as a mix of strong emotions flooded through him.

He wanted nothing more than to talk books with Jon, than to sit in quiet silence, reading in each other's company, to protect him and hold him close. The idea that Elias Bouchard is Jon's partner feels wrong. - so so wrong. There is something utterly wrong with the situation and how Jon's eyes held momentarily flecks of fear before he spaced out entirely.

Martin shook his head with a huff, a determination brewing within him. 

Chapter Text

Jon rubbed at his forehead absent mindedly as his eyes scanned over the work of one of his students. His eyebrows furrowed. He couldn't remember what he just read. He started back at the top of the page, reading but … not taking anything in. He made a frustrated sound as he tipped his head back. He stared up at the ceiling. He's tired. It’s well past the end of his scheduled classes, but he doesn’t want to go home. 

He heard a gentle knock at his door as he dropped his head back down to watch the door handle. He prayed it wasn't Elias, but then again Elias never knocks.

"Hi Jon," Martin smiled warmly in greeting.

Jon felt his own lips curl into a smile as he relaxed in his chair. "Oh, hello Martin. What brings you to my classroom today?"

"Just dropping off the new textbooks for the lab," Martin explained as he gestured to the cart outside the door. "Is this a good time?" 

Jon nodded. "Yes." 

Martin breathed a short hum as he grinned, "Great! It'll only take a few moments, I just need to -" He turned to the door, fumbling with holding it open as he tried to pull the cart in at the same time. "Get this -" Martin breathed and Jon made a move to stand.

"Let - Let me help you with that," Jon called with his hand outstretched. The doors were impossibly heavy at the Academy and Jon couldn't handle the endearing second hand embarrassment that Martin was treating him to right now. 

"No that's-" 

Jon attempted to stand from his chair, but his knees buckled from beneath him and he landed onto the floor with a thud. Jon blinked with confusion as Martin squeaked, "Jon? Jon-" He let the door fall shut as he raced around Jon's desk, "A-Are you quite alright?" He was reaching for Jon, but immediately retracted his hands as he remembered how Jon had flinched away from the contact before.

Jon turned a slow gaze to Martin as he thought out loud, "I… I fell." 

"Uh-Uh yes?" Martin's voice squeaked as he crouched next to a dazed Jon. 

They both jumped when Sasha burst through the door with Tim in tow as she called, "What was that noise? Jon? Did you have a fall a…" Her eyes landed on the two behind Jon's desk. "...gain." Jon flushed with embarrassment as he looked down to his knees as he tried to process what was happening. 

"Uh - yeah, he just -" Martin tried to explain.

"Again, boss?" Tim said as he rounded the desk, his voice surprisingly gentle as he pulled the chair away.

"I - I -" Jon stammered as he felt all three pairs of eyes on him - six eyes in all - his heart thudded up against his chest loudly as he tried to scramble to his feet. Stupid - embarrassing - stupid legs - stupid knees -  

"Woah - Woah -" Tim started as his hands reached out to steady Jon.

"I'm fine!" Jon snapped as his legs wobbled beneath him, his brows furrowed and his chest rising with a labored breath. He caught Martin's wide eyes and he felt the color drain from his cheeks as he murmured sheepishly, "I-I'm fine. Sorry for snapping." 

Sasha looked at him sympathetically from across his desk as she reassured, "It's okay Jon. We're just worried about you. That’s the third time these past few months." 

Jon offered her a weak smile as he shifted on his aching feet. "I know, I'm sorry."

The room was silent for a moment and Jon wanted to crawl under that space in his desk to hide away from all their pitying eyes. The sudden onset of weakness made his brows permanently furrow as his mind muddled with a hazy fog. 

"H-Have you eaten today?" Martin asked quietly from Jon's other side.

Jon's eyes snapped to Martin. "Oh ah," Jon fiddled with the papers on his desk as he thought out loud, "I had tea this morning." 

"Jon. That's not food," Sasha said, her tone stern as her eyebrows knitted together.

"W-Well, um, I - I -" Martin stuttered out as Jon's eyes tilted up to meet his gaze. 

"You had books you were bringing in, right Martin? Me and Sasha will get that sorted, don't mind us!" Tim said almost too quickly before grabbing Sasha's arm and tugging her to the door. Martin looked to them with shock, about to decline but they were already fumbling with the cart; however, much less than he did. 

Jon and Martin watched them quickly push the cart through the door and into the research lab without another word.

"Right," Martin breathed as he looked down at the pen Jon was twiddling. "I was - I was wondering if you would - This little café has great tea and snacks and would you -" Martin rambled. Jon's stomach gurgled and he brought a hand up to his mouth with embarrassment, a blush coating his cheeks as Martin peered at him before laughing softly, his cheeks warm and bright.

"I… could eat. I should eat. Something. Yes. I would like to go," Jon stumbled out awkwardly. 

"C-Cool… Um, n-now?" Martin stuttered as he added on quickly, "My shift ended twenty minutes ago."

Jon looked up to Martin curiously before nodding slowly. He knew Elias was expecting him, but he didn't quite frankly care as Martin stammered next to him in the most delightful;  way. "Okay," Jon breathed with a soft smile. He quickly slipped the stack of papers on his desk into one of the drawers before bending down for his bag.

"Great!" Martin chirped and started to turn towards the door.

"Uh - one - one moment, Martin," Jon murmured as he held up a hand. 

Martin turned back to Jon, those soft curls bouncing. Jon wanted to run his fingers through them. "No problem!"

"Thank you," Jon murmured as he fumbled around his bag for his foldable cane. He felt Martin's gaze on him as he pieced it together before setting the tip to the floor and murmuring quietly, "I'm chronically ill." 

"Oh," Martin breathed. "I-I didn't know." Dumb. Dumb idiot Martin - of course you wouldn't know - 

"That's quite alright," Jon assured as he slung his bag up on his shoulder before gesturing to the door with his free hand, "Lead the way."

---

"Do you mind me asking?" Martin blurted from across from Jon. 

Jon looked up from over his tea to see Martin tracing his finger nervously up and down his mug.

The café Martin drove them to (which Jon was eternally grateful for) was small and quaint. There were happy little plants nestled in the corners and soft yellow lighting that cast a comfortable glow over the place. The tea was lovely - brewed perfectly. The muffin Martin got him was delicious. Gentle music drifted through the air that mixed with the quiet, idle conversation of other guests. It was just lovely. 

"Ask... what?" Jon murmured as his head tilted to the side. His eyebrows were curled with curiosity. The dark green turtleneck he wore matched perfectly with his eyes, and Martin had to stop himself from blatantly marveling at Jon's simple beauty. 

"About your - er - your … illness?" Martin asked as he peeked a hesitant look at Jon.

For a moment Jon's heart swelled. Sure his assistants knew he was ill - Elias even knew - but they all either walked on eggshells around him or didn't care enough about his chronic condition to ask about it. Martin's curiosity made him smile the tiniest smile as he mumbled, "What would you like to know?"

Martin straightened as if he were expecting rejection before stuttering, "W-Well, for starters, what's it called?" His eyes were focused on Jon as he leant ever so slightly forward, eager to hear an answer.

Jon set his cup to the table, a palm still wrapped around it to seep whatever warmth it had to offer as he answered quietly, "Fibromyalgia."

Martin's eyebrows curled as he mumbled to himself, "Fibro … Oh! I've heard of that!"

Jon raised an eyebrow, "Have you?"

Martin nodded as he spoke, "Yes. Admittedly I don't know much about it though." His eyes trailed to Jon's cane that was resting against the table. 

Jon hummed, his lips turning down in soft amusement. "Fibromyalgia is a neurological disorder," Jon began and Martin listened closely. "I get… Do you remember when I said I have bad everything?"

"I do." Martin nodded.

Jon laughed softly, "Well. I do… have bad everything. My knees hurt, almost all of the time. It's… a deep aching feeling. But it's not just my knees. It's my hips… my elbows…" Jon trailed off as he glanced up to find Martin peering directly at him. Jon shifted nervously as he admitted, "I don't usually get to talk about this actually. Most people don't care."

Martin's face fell slightly as he mumbled, "That's…"

"Sad? You don't need to remind me," Jon laughed weakly.

"Well, I want to know," Martin said sternly before asking, "What… is the cause of it? Can it be cured?"

"Doctors believe that fibromyalgia … Hm… in simple terms, it's believed there's a glitch in the way the brain and spinal cord handle pain signals. I possibly have more pain cells that carry pain signals than ones that slow pain down." Jon explained slowly. "It's more common in women, but here I am," Jon chuckled weakly.

Martin nodded before asking slowly, "And the… ability to cure it?"

"Doesn't exist," Jon mumbled as he looked down into his tea.

"Oh, I'm… I'm sorry Jon. That must be awful," Martin sympathized as he looked at Jon with a soft expression.

Jon felt his insides melt and he couldn't help but smile, so he masked it by sipping at his tea. "It is what it is," Jon finally muttered as he shifted in his seat before pointing to his cane. "Oh, that's why I have this by the way. Helps on the bad days. What happened at school earlier - it - my knees can get a bit wobbly and unstable."

"Oooh," Martin breathed as his eyes flicked to the cane and back up to Jon. He nods. "Makes sense. My mum was in a wheelchair for most of her life."

Jon raised his eyebrows as he asked, "Your mum?"

"Yeah, she was chronically ill too. She died a couple years ago," Martin said, his eyes following a passerby through the window.

"O-Oh - Martin -" Jon stammered. His parents were dead - but that didn't mean -

Martin smiled warmly at Jon, easing his worries. "It's alright." 

They fell into a comfortable silence for a few moments before Martin spoke up again, his cheeks tinted a rosy pink, "Jon?" 

Jon looked at Martin and felt his heart swoon in his chest as he almost cooed, "Yes Martin?" 

"Are… Are you…" Martin swallowed before rushing out, "Are you dating Mr. Bouchard?" 

Jon felt himself frown at the mention of Elias as his eyes drifted to the side. He was quiet for a moment before he muttered, "I am." 

Martin fidgeted before leaning into the table. "Look, I know, I know we're not exactly super close - which - which I would like to be - I'm your friend Jon -" Martin rambled and his fingertips brushed Jon's on the table. "Um. I'm just gonna - are - are you… are you..." Martin lowered his voice, "safe with him?" 

Jon felt himself stiffen. What had he done wrong? He covered his bruises - he - he did everything Elias told him to do - he made sure he did it right - he made sure - 

"Jon?" 

Jon swallowed as he shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of the fabric around his neck and on his arms, wrapping around his torso and over his belly -

"Jon!" Martin whisper-yelled. 

Jon's frightened eyes met Martin's concerned ones as Martin started to mumble a comforting mantra, "It's okay - it's okay, I'm sorry for asking - Jon, you're, you're okay here, it's okay."

Jon had barely noticed his labored breathing or the way his body trembled in place. "I -" Jon rasped, his throat suddenly dry. 

Martin looked around them as he hushed Jon gently before asking, "Can I touch your hand?"

Jon gulped as he looked down at Martin's hand. That welcoming hand -

"I - I have to go." Jon suddenly stood from his seat as he grabbed his bag from the chair.

"Jon -" Martin started, but Jon physically recoiled.

Tears were welling in his eyes and he could hear his heart beat in his ears like mad as he stammered, "D-Don't follow me." And then he slipped out the door into the brisk autumn air. It nipped at his skin, and his wet eyes felt achingly chilly as he wrapped his arms around himself while walking - just walking. 

Martin sat at the table with a look of disbelief and worry. He leant back in his chair as he ran a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes settling on the cane Jon left behind. 

Jon fumbled for his phone, his breath coming out in short huffs as he pressed onto the phone screen. It rang once before he heard the familiar, "Jonathan?" 

"E-Elias…" Jon croaked.

"Jonathan - what's -"

"P-Please come pick me up."

Elias found him in no time, and at first Jon was met with a glare as he climbed into the passenger seat. Elias berated him for missing dinner, but Elias' face softened when they stepped into their home and Jon pressed himself into Elias’ arms with a broken shudder. He just wanted something - some comfort - anything -

He was so close to breaking apart completely in that small coffee shop, and what destroyed him the most is that he so desperately wanted to go back and do so. 

---

Jon swallowed as he walked into his classroom to see his cane resting against his desk with a bright yellow sticky note to it. He shuffled over to it, picking it up slowly.

Jon, You forgot this.

Are we still friends? Check one of the boxes below:

□ yes □ no

Please return this soon, 

Martin (: 

Jon let out a soft whimper as he clutched at his cane. He scrubbed at his face before hastily grabbing a pen from his desk. 

---

Martin sighed as his fingers ran across a worn book. He flipped to the inside and blinked down at the sticky note inside. He felt a tiny smile tug at his lips as his eyes scanned over the checked " yes " box. 

Chapter Text

"Jon?" Martin murmured as he slowly walked up to the table Jon was occupying. It was late. Darkness seeped through the windows and most of the library's lights had been shut off by Rosie when she left for the day, leaving the two to their own devices. Jon looked up, and Martin had to physically fight his face from curling into a worried expression - failing ever so grandly as his brows curled together. 

"Martin," Jon greeted with a weak smile. His under eyes were so dark - bruised looking.

Martin swallowed at the thought of more bruises scattering Jon's body under his dark blue jumper. He stepped up to the table, placing his hands on the back of the empty chair as he murmured, "It's late." 

Jon blinked as he cast his gaze to the window. His palm rested over the page of a book as he muttered out a soft realization, "Oh."

Martin nodded, his head tilting sympathetically, his eyes kind. He really didn't want to suggest what he was about to say - but these unwritten boundaries between them - they just confused Martin the more he thought about them. "You should…" Martin trailed off as his eyes fell down to the table.

Jon breathed a weak laugh. He gently folded his book closed as he murmured, "Go home?" 

Martin felt himself sag as his eyes slipped back up to Jon’s face. "I have to close up… and …"

"Mr. Bouchard's policies… I am all too familiar, yes," Jon murmured as he gathered his things. Martin noted Jon’s cane and the way he leant on it for support as he stood from the chair, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion as he slips his book bag on his shoulder. 

"Jon?" Martin asked quietly as an idea popped into his head.

"Hmm?" Jon hummed as he pushed his chair in.

"Would you - would you like to meet Abby?" Martin asked quietly, shifting nervously. If he could spare Jon any time away from Elias, he would. 

Jon's gaze met Martin's. “Are… you serious?” Jon asked slowly, hopefulness shining in his eyes. 

Martin grinned, “Of course I am! It only takes me a couple minutes to lock up here, and then… I could drive you to my house, if that’s okay?” Martin knows Jon doesn’t drive himself to school; that he rides with Elias every day. 

“I would love to meet her - yes - yes please, may I meet her?” Jon said quickly, his voice laced with excitement as his whole demeanor changed.

“Yes, Jon," Martin felt a smile stretch across his face, "You may meet her. Could you wait a couple minutes for me to pack up then?” Martin laughed softly, fondly as Jon nodded quickly in response, his fingers clutching at his bag strap with excitement. 

---

Martin unlocks the door to his home as Jon shifts on his feet nervously behind him. The ground is wet and damp from the cool autumn drizzle that leaves a shiver on both their bones. Jon notes the potted plants lined on Martin's porch, their leaves dotted with specks of water from the accumulated rain. This cold weather surely wasn't good for them, but he is no expert on gardening.

"It's not much, but it's mine," Martin says softly as he pushes the door open, ushering Jon in first. Jon slips into Martin's home and is immediately met with warmth that makes him shudder contently. Martin slides in next to him and directs, "Shoes off please." 

"Oh - right, of course," Jon stammers as he leans his cane onto the wall by the door. He slips his shoes off and sits them neatly next to Martin's discarded ones. 

"You can uh - you can bring that in with you - just let me grab something really quick to clean the bottom?" Martin says, his speech bubbling to a question. 

"Alright, thank you," Jon murmurs with a smile. Jon spots another plant on the small table by the door, and he grins as he reaches out to brush his fingers across the soft leaf with mild curiosity. 

Jon's heart thuds in his chest momentarily as Martin watches him, a look of - something, on his face before he shoots him a grin, "Be right back, I'll definitely have to figure something out for next time though…" His voice trails off as he goes deeper into his home and Jon finds himself lingering on Martin's words. Next time? Jon would like for there to be a next time. Martin is just safe - he is kind and nice and - safe . 

"Here," Martin says, startling a spaced out Jon slightly. "Oh - sorry!" Martin quickly apologizes. 

"N-No worries, Martin," Jon assures as he watches Martin bend down to quickly towel off the bottom of Jon's cane. Jon feels his cheeks warm. Elias doesn't want him to scuff up his floors so he doesn't get to use it at home. When his left leg was broken it was… difficult, to say the least. "Thank you," Jon murmured so softly Martin had to strain his ears to hear.

"Not a problem, anything to help you be more comfortable around here. Please, come in," Martin gestured excitedly. Jon followed Martin through and into the living room. Jon glanced around the walls and he felt himself smile at the little knickknacks and small potted plants lying around. Martin gestured to a worn looking sofa and Jon sat down with ease as Martin babbled, "Would you like some tea? I have tea - Also Abby is pretty shy at first - she's probably hiding -"

"Tea would be," Jon pauses as he thinks back to the tea Elias has made him so many times. He clears his throat a bit before murmuring, "Tea sounds nice. Martin." 

Martin smiles as he admits a bit sheepishly, "Cool. As for food, I'm better at growing it than making it, how does takeaway Chinese sound?"

"O-Oh Martin, you don't have to -" Jon stammers from his place on the comfortable sofa.

Martin interrupted him with a soft smile, "Jon, it's half past six. I'm starving, so I'm going to get food for both of us. I'm not just going to eat in front of you." Martin explained, almost exasperated at such a notion that he wouldn't treat his guests to crappy take out. 

"Well… if you insist, then," Jon murmured as he rubbed his palms over his thighs momentarily. 

"I do. Do you have any preferences?" Martin asked.

"Not really, no," Jon murmured. He had learned to not be picky while with Elias. Surely that applied elsewhere as well.

Martin smiled some more, his dimples showing and Jon had to hold his breath for a moment as Martin beamed at him. "Okie dokie! I'll be right back!" Martin said cheerily before slipping off into his kitchen.

Jon let out the breath he was holding in a long, deep sigh. He sunk further into the couch, the weight of the day pressing him further into the cushions. He lazily shrugged his bag off, dropping it to the floor next to Martin's coffee table. His eyes fell to a notebook and he tilted his head curiously. His eyes flicked over the title, and he bit back a chuckle.

Martin's Poetry

A lax name for a poetry book, but then again, Jon knows nothing of the art form, having never been too interested in it. His eyes glide over to the small pile of books and the over to the bookshelf lined with rows and rows of books. Large and thick ones accompanied small short ones, and more tiny little knickknacks adorned the open spaces of the shelves with a vine-y looking plant twisting around the open edges of it. Jon's eyes landed on some small mushroom ceramics and he felt his lips turn up with a smile. Jon had no idea Martin was so… so… 

His eyes landed on an orange ball of fluff near his cane, her nose twitching cutely as she sniffed at the foreign object. Jon stilled, his heart racing excitedly as he murmured softly, "Oh, hello." 

The cat looked up at him, still crouched in a curiously defensive position as she sniffed at the air, her tail swooshing behind her. 

Jon hesitantly held out his hand, and the cat startled slightly and he bit at his lip while he lowered his open palm past his knee and close to the floor. Abby looked at it before quietly stepping over to it, her moist nose tickling Jon's palm as she sniffs at him for a moment before deciding he's no intruder and butts her head into his palm.

Jon giggles quietly as he scratches at her chin while murmuring, "Hello Abby. I'm Jon." 

She purrs with delight and Jon feels his cheeks warm with a grin as he shifts to have a better angle, his fingers running up and over the curve of her neck and down her smooth spine. Abby headbutts his leg, a happy meow escaping her as Jon chuckles and reaches down while asking, "Will you let me pick you up?"

Jon gently wraps a palm under her chest, scooping her up slowly in case she wants to get away, but she makes no fuss as Jon lifts her up and onto his lap. She's purring even louder now, and she stands to nuzzle up against Jon's chin. "Oh-Oh my, aren't you a lover? Hmm?" Jon coos as he pets at her back gently.

Martin suddenly steps into the room as he calls, "I heard a meow - did she -" He stops abruptly as his eyes land on his cat. His cat who's supposedly super shy around strangers, cuddling up to Jon with the most fond purrs. Martin slaps both hands up to his face as a grin breaks out onto his cheeks at the adorable sight.

"I think she likes me," Jon mumbles with his eyes still trained on Abby, who cuddled up close in his lap, curling into a ball. 

Martin squeaks, and Jon curls an eyebrow up at him, his gaze focused on Martin with his slender fingers still brushing against Abby's fur. "Y-You think?! Geeze, I've never seen her do that with a stranger before," Martin says, his eyes sparkling as he adds on, "You must be a cat whisperer or something ." 

Jon laughs softly as Martin stares at him in disbelief, "Something or another, I suppose." 

His eyes crinkles as he smiles at Martin, a real relaxed smile, and Martin feels his heart flutter happily. "Well the tea's nearly done, and the Chinese should be here soon. Do you maybe want to watch a movie, or something?" 

Jon tries to remember the last time he's watched a movie without Elias looming over him. "I wouldn't mind," Jon says simply.

"Awesome! L-Let me just grab the tea really quick!" Martin chirps before heading back into the kitchen. 

Jon sighs and looks out the window. Dark clouds gloom into the night, making it much more dark than it should have been. Rain trickled lazily down Martin's window as Martin popped back into the room with two mismatched mugs in his hands. "If you don't like this brand or flavor, no worries, okay?" 

Jon accepts the mug that's held out to him with a short nod and he peers into the amber liquid. His stomach churns with uncertainty as its steamy fog wisps up into his face. He glances at Martin as he takes a sip from his own mug before settling down on the chair opposite the couch, but Jon can't get rid of the sour taste of distrust on the back of his tongue. He swallows, hesitant as he shifts under the weight of Abby when suddenly there were some curt knocks at the door.

Martin looked up with a, "The food's here!" Before setting his mug on the table and scampering off to the front door. Jon hears low rumbling thunder in the distance, and he decides to place the mug on the table. 

Martin tips the delivery person nicely as he peers out into the night, when suddenly the sky opens up as sheets of rain start to downpour. He shuts his door with a yelp. He peers out the small window of his door and sees trees whipping around in the wind. He frowns. The weather didn't call for a storm tonight. He pads back into the living room, his socked feet pressing into the soft carpet of his living room as he announces, "Food is here... but," Martin nervously looks out of his window as more thunder rolls through the sky. 

"But?" Jon murmurs as he watches Martin set the take out boxes on the table. 

"I… I don't think you should go home tonight," Martin says as he slips the curtain on his window shut before turning a sheepish look to Jon. "It's… pretty bad out there. You are welcome to stay." 

"Oh." Jon mumbles and a sudden crack of lighting makes all three of them jump. Jon presses a reassuring hand to Abby's back as he coos, "There there, it's just a storm, but… you're probably right, Martin. Are you sure my staying over won't be too much of a burden?"

Martin gapes a bit at Jon as he settles back in his chair, curling his legs up as he reaches for one of the take out boxes. "Jon, we're friends. You are most welcome in my home, anytime, and I mean it, okay?"  

Jon swallows nervously, a shyness creeping up his neck as he mumbles, "Alright." He places gentle hands on Abby as he coos, "Okay sweetheart, down you go." He carefully scoops her off his lap and places her to the floor. She stretches happily before trotting to her cat bed and plopping down into it. Jon hesitantly grabs at the other take out box as he asks, "What are we going to watch?" 

Martin hums as he flicks his TV on. "How about some crappy mystery? There's plenty of those."

Jon huffs a soft laugh. "I sure do like myself a crappy mystery."

Martin grins, "Then it's settled." 

The two eat together, the room filled with cheesy mysterious music and Martin’s muffled laughter every now and then. The take out boxes were neatly stacked, and Jon was growing sleepier by the moment as gentle thunder passed through the sky outside. He feels his phone buzz and he ignores it until the buzzing grows more consistent into his ringtone.

"Ah," Jon murmurs as he shifts and pulls his phone from his pocket.

Elias.

Jon stands awkwardly before asking, "Um, can I use your bathroom?"

Martin peeks up at him, his eyes darting to the phone Jon clutched in his palm. "Oh, Yes! It’s just down the hall and to the left!"

"Thank you," Jon mumbled before quickly shuffling out of the room, his cane left resting on the side of the couch.

Martin tries to watch the movie, but he can hear the faintness of Jon's voice. He turns before slipping out of his chair and creeping to the hallway. He angles his ear down the hall. 

"Elias."

"Yes, Elias."

"N-No - No - Elias. That isn't fair and you -"

"No! I'm - I can't - No, No! I'm not doing this right now!" 

Martin sees the door handle turn and he jumps back to his spot on his chair, trying to look more interested in the film than Jon's personal life as his heart races in his chest. He hears Jon's socked feet pad down the hallway and he hopes he doesn't look too guilty.

"Sorry about that. Elias just wanted to know where I was," Jon mumbled before crawling back onto the couch, curling into himself as he peers at his phone. 

Martin just sends him a smile, though his eyebrows scrunched together slightly with worry as Jon taps quickly at his screen.

[To Sasha]: if anyone asks, I spent the night at yours 

[From Sasha]: alright, is everything okay?

[To Sasha]: I'm alright, thank you

Jon quickly deletes those messages. His fingers hover over his phone momentarily before he scowls slightly.

[To Elias]: How do you expect me to keep up this façade of perfection with no friends, Elias? 

[From Elias]: You should watch your tone. 

Jon sighs and drops his phone to the couch, grabbing Martin's full attention. "Is... everything okay?" Martin asked slowly.

Jon looked at him, a feeble smile on his lips as he lied, "Yes. Did I miss much?"

Chapter Text

The movie was cheesy but in that good sort of way that makes the watcher laugh until their belly hurts and their eyes are brimming with amused tears. Which is exactly how Martin was at the end of the film, laughter shaking his very core as he wipes at his eyes while muttering, "Sorry - Sorry it's just so -" And then another bark of laughter fell from his lips as Jon wore an amused smile. His eyes were droopy, and his body was tired. He'd nearly molded into the couch cushions, rubbing his cheek against the arm because he dipped his head down at one point. He admired Martin's laughter and those adorable dimples that showed on his cheeks with every chuckle. It made Jon feel warm and content, a gentle happiness wrapping around him as he lazed about in Martin's home.

When the movie finally started to roll the credits Martin let out a final wheeze before he breathed out, "Ah, that was a good one." Jon nodded silently from his spot, his eyes a bit glazed over as he turned his head to watch Martin let out a yawn. Jon felt his own yawn bubble in his chest, and he pressed his nose into the crook of his elbow. Martin cast a lopsided grin towards him as he asked, "Are you feeling sleepy Jon?" 

Jon hummed, barely, his cheek rubbing against the arm of the sofa as he nodded.

Martin laughs softly as he clicks the TV off. "Alright, we'll I'm not gonna have you sleep on the couch. I don't… I don’t have a guest bed, but you can sleep in mine?" Jon's eyebrows furrow slightly before Martin stammers out quickly, "I-I'll obviously take the couch." 

"Martin," Jon starts, and forces himself to sit up. He shifts his legs as he drops his gaze to one of the plants in the corner of the room. "I'm not going to take your bed, the couch is fine," Jon murmurs.

Martin is closer to him now, another soft chuckle falling from his lips. "Jon, I did some reading up on Fibromyalgia. I'm not about to make you sleep somewhere that will make things harder for you."

Jon's face softens as he breaths a soft, "Oh… that's..." Jon swallows as fondness grows in his heart. He tips his gaze back up to meet Martin's, and how has Jon not counted all those freckles on Martin's face yet? He notices the slight tinge to his ears, and Jon's sure he looks the same, or ever more flushed as he murmurs a grateful, "Thank you Martin."

"No problem," Martin beams before he ushers, "Come on. Now I won't make you borrow my clothes, but I'm sure sleeping in your teaching clothes isn't as comfortable as it looks." 

Jon feels his blush creep higher up his neck at the mention of sharing clothes as he moves to his feet. He slowly grabs his cane and bag before following Martin down the hall. They end up in the back of the house, and Jon wonders momentarily what's upstairs as Martin flicks the light on in his bedroom. The soft yellow bulb shines a gentle light across the decently sized room, and Jon tries to not eye the extremely soft looking blanket on Martin's bed. He shifts awkwardly on his feet in the doorway as Martin shuffles through his drawers. "These might be a bit big on you but," He shrugs as he glances to Jon.

Jon offers Martin a small smile in return. Martin pulls out a t-shirt and sweatpants, and Jon feels his smile drop slightly. "Um… I -" 

"You definitely don't need to borrow them if it makes you uncomfortable, I just thought I'd offer," Explains Martin gently as he lays the clothes on his bed.

Jon swallows and shifts, his brows furrowing, "No, it's not - Um… do…" Jon averted his gaze as he mumbled a quiet half-lie, "Do you have any long sleeve shirts? I get cold at night." 

Martin frowns for a moment as Jon looks anywhere but him, and he can't stop imagining the real reason Jon wants to cover up. He turns back to his dresser. "I sure do! Here," Martin pulls an old University long sleeve out and drapes it on top of the clothes on his bed. Jon lifts his gaze back up to meet Martin's, and he can feel the pity radiating off him as Martin speaks, "Well, there's some clothes. That's my bed obviously - just - make yourself at home. There's a wall socket on the right side of my bed and… yeah? You know the bathroom's down the hall. I'll set a spare toothbrush on the counter for you. Is there anything else you need?" 

Jon shifts again, his awkwardness consuming him as he mumbles, "No, um... Thank you Martin." 

Martin offers him a warm smile and makes his way to the door as Jon steps out of the way. "Alright well, g-goodnight Jon," Martin says, his voice tired as well.

Jon reciprocates the smile, his cheeks hurting slightly from the overuse, as he murmurs quietly, "Goodnight Martin."

With that Martin shuts the door behind him and Jon lets out a sigh. He sets his bag and cane against the wall before putting his phone on the nightstand. He ran his fingers over the soft duvet and it felt so good as his fingers ran over the smooth fluff. He carefully tugged his jumper over his head, and he did his best to not catch himself in the mirror on Martin's wall as he quickly slipped the long sleeve over his head. The sleeves easily covered Jon's hands and he had to bite back a childish squeal because, "Sweater paws," He hums to himself before slipping his pants off to the small pile on the floor. He pulls up the sweat pants and those too pool at his feet. He double knotted them before glancing forlorn at the bed. He should… probably brush his teeth. The stink of onions was on his breath, but that duvet…

Jon shook his head, and stepped out of the room quietly. There was a dim light coming from the living room, so he shuffled quickly into the bathroom. Martin did leave him a brand new toothbrush with the toothpaste sitting next to it, and Jon couldn't help the fond expression that crossed his whole body. Martin is so thoughtful - so heartbreakingly kind - 

Jon brushes his teeth quickly before slipping out and back into Martin's room. He finally dips onto the bed with a deep sigh. He rolled around, the duvet huge and soft and fluffy as he squirmed underneath it. He nuzzled his nose into a pillow and it smelled like Martin. Soft hues of honey and old books tickled his senses, and it only relaxed him more as his body sunk into the mattress, his eyes fluttering shut.

---

Jon was swimming - no - floating? And it was dark and he couldn't see anything as he looked around. He twisted, suspended in what - he couldn't tell - but it pressed on all sides of him, crushing into him with an uncomfortable pressure. Was he dreaming? Surely - but -

He's sitting in Elias' office. He's wet, why is he wet? Elias is yelling at him, but his words are muffled with the sounds of water and Jon can only look at him quizzically until Elias’s hands are on his throat and he's squeezing and oh no no no - Jon is screaming and thrashing and his lungs are burning impossibly as water swallows them both whole in an inky darkness that blinds him and he can't breathe - 

Martin wakes to a thud, and his heart leaps to his throat as he casts his gaze to Abby, who was sleeping ever so peacefully. He settled for a moment, but the curiosity inside his bones urged him to roll off the couch, his hair licked up one way from sleeping and his toes curling into the carpet of his living room. He stands for a moment, gaining his bearings before quietly padding into the kitchen. His throat felt dry, so he grabbed a glass and some tap water before padding back out into the living room. The moon danced between the cracks in his curtains, illuminating thin strips throughout the room. He sighed, reaching up to scrub at his eyes before he set the glass down on the coffee table. The house is quiet, save for the normal creaks and the gentle rain on the rooftop. His eyebrows furrowed as he remembered why he'd woken up in the first place, and he stepped into the hallway. He looks down the hall, his bedroom door still shut and he feels a shrug pull at his shoulders when he swears he hears - something. 

A frown tugs at his lips as he makes his way outside his door, hesitant to bother Jon if nothing was actually wrong. He scrunches up his nose as he leans towards his door and he hears a weak, "'lias, pl''se." 

Martin pulls away and quickly glances to the front door, but he settles minutely when he remembers he locked it after he got the takeout. He knocks on the door, calling quietly, "Jon?" There is no answer and Martin shakes his head, his hair swishing with the movement as he tries to tell himself it's okay to check on Jon. He opens the door and steps in quietly to see Jon squirming in his sleep, weak whimpers falling from his lips. Martin's eyes fall to Jon's phone on the ground, and he cautiously goes to pick it up.

"Mmpf… No," Jon murmurs as Martin hovers next to his bed.

Martin's eyebrows curl up sympathetically as he takes in Jon's frightened face, the sweat prickling his hairline, and his quiet pleas. He reaches out, feeling a great hesitance. He doesn't want to scare Jon, doesn't want him to flinch away from Martin's grasp, but in this moment as Jon cries in his sleep Martin can only hope Jon understands as he places a gentle palm on Jon's shoulder as he murmurs, "Jon? Jon," He shakes him, his grip soft as he continues, "You're having a nightmare."

Jon squirmed before jerking awake with a harsh gasp. His eyes were wide and frantic as he sat up. Apologies fell from his lips, his mind still muddled with the nightmare. "I'm sorry - please- please don't hurt me anymore - please," Jon cries, his body trembling and his breath coming in short wheezes.

"Jon - Jon," Martin tries, his own voice wavering as Jon leans away from his touch.

Jon shakes his head as he blinks watery eyes at his surroundings and - where is he? This isn't - this isn't the guest room - no this - 

"Jon - can you hear me?" Martin asks as he lowers himself to meet Jon's gaze.

Jon's wide, wet eyes meet Martin's and he remembers with a shuddered, embarrassed sigh as his heart lurches up in his throat and he can barely breathe -

"Okay, I-I think you're having a panic attack," Martin mumbles, sitting on the bed next to Jon, leaving a careful amount of space between them as he reaches out, placing a gentle hand on Jon's shoulder.

Jon instinctively flinches away, tumbling from the other side of the bed as he weeps, "N-No more, p-please, no more." 

Martin feels his heart crack, a sound escaping his lips as he slips from the bed to the floor. Jon pressed himself up into the corner, his body trembling and his breathing ragged as he sucked in harsh breaths and he's dying. 

"Jon, Jon, I'm not going to hurt you," Martin murmurs softly, trying to keep a level voice as he crawls closer to Jon. He looked so small, crouched in that corner. Jon only whimpers in response as Martin slowly gets closer. "Jon, you're safe. You're safe here. Elias -"

Jon sucks in a sharp breath, his head whipping up to look around the room as he searches for Him. 

"No! Ah - h-he's not here, Jon you're safe, you're safe here," Martin stammers and mentally kicks himself for even mentioning Elias. 

Jon's panicked eyes meet Martin's soft ones, and he wheezes out a shuddered gasp, "M-Martin?" It’s Martin - Martin - with the soft jumpers and pretty freckles and -

Martin nods, keeping an arms length away from Jon as he reasures gently, "Y-Yes, Yes it's me, Martin. You're safe here, you're safe here Jon. I'm not going to hurt you."

Jon makes a pained noise, his throat aching and his face wet, and he was so hot and cold and his body wouldn't stop shaking and he could barely breathe as Martin reached out an open palm across the floor. 

"I won't hurt you Jon," Martin mumbles softly as he tries to fight his own tears, inviting Jon the simple comfort of hand holding if he chooses. 

Jon gulps, his heart vibrating his pulse as his gaze slips to Martin's palm, and he hesitantly drops shaky fingers to it, retracting momentarily as he looks up to Martin for permission. 

"It's okay," Martin coos and lifts his hand to meet Jon's in the air. Jon whimpers as he curls his fingers around Martin's palm. It is hardly a normal way to hold hands, odd and almost uncomfortable as Jon squeezes at Martin's palm. He dips his head into his knees, his body still shaking with tsunamis of tremors. 

They sit like that for a while, Martin crouched by Jon, their palms resting together on the floor. Jon shudders a breath every now and then, his forehead pressed against his knees in shame.

When Jon's breath finally evens out to a mere shudder every now and then, Martin asks quietly, "Jon?" 

Jon doesn't look up as he retracts his hand, nestling it between his legs and stomach as he whispers hoarsely, "I'm sorry." 

Martin frowns, a coo forming on his lips as he scoots just a little closer, "No, Jon. It's... alright. You're safe here." Jon feels his lips tremble some more as he lets out a whine, and Martin makes a sympathetic sound before asking, "Can I get you anything? Some water maybe?" 

Jon looks to Martin quickly as he gasps, "Don't leave me. Don't -" He cuts himself off, embarrassment clawing at his neck as his tear stained cheeks flush. 

Martin holds up his hands as he replies, "Okay, Okay. I won't." 

A silence fills the room as rain pelts harder at the roof. "He…" Jon murmurs before swallowing. He scrubs at his eyes with the sleeves of Martin's shirt before whispering. "He locks me in the guest room… sometimes… when… when I'm…" Jon's admission fizzles out on his tongue as Martin's face twists with anger and upset. "Sorry," Jon whispers as he squirms.

"What?" Martin breathes in disbelief, his mouth making sounds of confusion as Jon looks at him with curled up eyebrows. "N-No, Jon - no, don't -" Martin stammers and brings a hand up to run it through his hair. He has a hard time comprehending how someone could treat another human person so horribly. Jon watches in the darkness, but he can still see the way Martin's curls stretch and retract. "You don't need to apologize about t-this. Ever. Okay? I just - I -"

Jon shifts some more, unfurling from his knees as he mumbles, "Sor - uh - I've - I shouldn't... burden you like this." 

Martin shakes his head quickly as he scrambles to his knees, "Nonono - Jon please, I'm here to help, okay? You aren't a burden." 

After a beat of silence Jon mumbles, “Okay.”

Martin sighs, his eyebrows curled up sadly as he asks softly, "Do... you want to talk about it?" 

Jon picks at the sleeve on Martin's shirt shamefully, but he nods, to Martin’s surprise. 

"Okay, alright. Why don't - why don't we get you back on the bed, okay?" Martin asks hopefully.

Jon looks up to the bed, to that soft duvet and he feels how tired he really is. "Okay," He whispers and starts to stand on shaky legs.

Martin's hands hover as Jon crawls back onto the bed, sitting criss cross on the right side. He rubs at his eyes, and Martin suppresses a coo because if it weren't for their current situation, Martin would find Jon completely adorable right now. Martin hesitantly sits on the left side as Jon sways in place, his eyes half hooded and his hair a mess. “Jon, why don’t… Why don’t we talk in the morning? So you can get some rest?” Martins asks with careful suggestion as the person across from him blinks slowly.

Jon hums, his shoulders sagging as he drops to the pillow unceremoniously. Martin giggles quietly and begins to slip off the bed when Jon props himself up. “Martin?” Martin pauses with a hum as he looks to Jon, and Jon turns away bashfully as he twists his hands in the blanket. “Will… Will you stay? P-Please?” Jon murmured, his heart twisting all funny-like in his chest as he quickly added, “If that isn’t too much to ask.” 

Martin smiles warmly, and Jon didn’t need perfect sunlight to feel it. “Of course.”

Chapter Text

Martin woke first. He was warm and cozy as his eyes fluttered open to the soft morning sun melting through the sheer curtains. He thanked the high heavens that today wasn't a school day as he turned his gaze to the right. His eyes settled over Jon's sleeping form. He was curled in on himself, knees pressed up to his chest protectively as his chest rose and fell with each breath. He was close to Martin, easily passing the threshold of the middle of the bed, but Martin didn't mind. Jon's eyelashes were long, and they swept across Jon's cheek lightly. His hair was mussed, sticking out in every direction, the gray strands standing out. 

Martin sighed and relaxed a bit as his eyes traveled to Jon's exposed collarbone. The shirt Martin leant him was a size or two too big, and the neck hole dipped enough for Martin to see the greens and yellows of an old bruise. Martin swallowed, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes skirted across Jon's frame while he wondered how many more he'd been hiding. 

Jon hummed weakly, shifting slowly as he nuzzled deeper into the pillow he was occupying. Martin blew air through his nose, a mix of fondness and anger washing over him.

Martin slowly pulled himself from the duvet, his toes landing on the rug in his room quietly as he slipped from the bed. Jon didn't squirm as Martin tucked the blanket back up by him before carefully making his way out of the room. When he crossed into the hallway, he considered the door for a moment before leaving it open just a crack. He then padded down the hallway, a yawn tugging at his arms as he raised them above his head with a squeak. He plucked his glasses from the coffee table and snatched his phone up as well. It was only nine, and Martin didn't mind letting Jon get all the rest he needed.  Abby rubbed against his legs and he crooned as he reached down to give her a gentle scritch, "Good morning pretty girl, are you hungry?" 

Abby purred in response and Martin chuckled as he made his way to the kitchen. He filled Abby's food and water bowls before diligently checking on all his plants while water boiled on the stove. Martin quickly pulled the kettle from the stove before it's screech could wake Jon, but in the other room Jon was squirming awake ever so slowly.

Jon cuddled into the blankets, the warmth so welcoming and cozy as he breathed out a shallow breath. He blinked open heavy eyelids before groaning and turning in bed, curling deeper into the blankets. He laid there for a few minutes as his mind and body started to wake. His brows curled at the memories of last night and a light wave of anxiety washed over him. He smoothed his fingers up and over the duvet as he opened his eyes completely.

He was met with curious yellow eyes peering back at him from the doorway, and he couldn't help the sleepy smile that grew on his lips as he whispered, "Oh, hello again." Abby stepped further into the room as Jon draped his arm over the side of the bed, his fingers outstretched and meeting with Abby's fur as she rubs her head into his palm. Jon hums before murmuring, "Does Martin let you up in the bed, I wonder?" Abby just purred in response. Jon propped himself up, smoothing down the blanket before patting at it. Abby's eyes widened and Jon couldn't help the grin that spread across his lips as she jumped up on the bed, nuzzling into his stubble-y cheek with a loud purr. Jon let out a soft chuckle as he ran his fingers across her back before nuzzling his nose against her head. 

Martin quietly prepared tea, setting the sugar and cream on the small kitchen table. He hummed to himself as he left his cup on the table before venturing to his fridge. He didn't really ask Jon if he took cream or milk - or sugar or honey in his tea last night. He realized this as he dumped the cold, full glass down the drain last night. He fumbled in the fridge for the milk carton before turning back to the table.

"Good morning," Jon startles Martin, and Martin's hands slip on the milk carton as he catches sight of Jon with Abby in his arms. Jon's eyes widen as the carton slaps to the floor, an apology forming on his tongue as he grips Abby closer before Martin sputters, "It's okay! You - You - You just startled me is all." 

Jon relaxes visibly as Martin scoops the dented carton from the floor before admitting sheepishly, "I didn't know what you take in your tea and - and I didn't ask last night, s-so I was just…" Martin gestures with the injured milk carton before a shrug pulls at his shoulders as he looks at Jon, "Getting everything?" A soft laugh falls from Jon's lips as he presses his nose into Abby's fur, mumbling something before gently setting her on the floor. Martin feels himself blush as Jon hovers at the table. "Please - sit," Martin says as he sets the milk on the table. Jon sits down quietly, hesitantly curling his legs into the criss cross position in his chair as he watches Martin closely. "Um, food wise, I have - eggs? Waffles? Um… cereal…" Martin trails off as Jon stares at him. Martin blinks at Jon before asking slowly, his ears still red, "What?" 

Jon straightens in his chair as he stammers, "O-Oh, you uh - you have glasses."

Martin's eyebrows curl with confusion as he mutters, "Yeah?"

Jon shifts awkwardly before he spits out, "I like them." And he really did. Those round frames fit Martin's face perfectly, highlighting the soft freckles on his cheeks and nose. 

Martin nearly chokes as he sputters out a bashful, "Th-Thank you - I - I usually wear contacts - but - well - it's morning - and - yeah." 

Jon offers Martin a small smile before asking slowly, "You said you have waffles?"

Martin beams, "I do! How many?"

"Umm... are two okay?" Jon asks and Martin has a fleeting thought of Jon asking Elias permission to eat.

"As many as you'd like Jon, but we can start with two," Martin says as he offers Jon a warm smile.

Jon sits there in silence while Martin slaps the waffles in the toaster. He peers into the mug of tea Martin set down. This time it was some sort of black tea, but Jon's stomach twisted at the thought as he slowly pushed it to the side. He didn't see Martin make it so he just couldn't bring himself to drink. Frozen waffles, on the other hand, sounded delicious. 

Jon bit into his syrup drenched waffle and chewed it happily. He can't remember the last time he's had a waffle. Martin happily plated him two, while sneakily making more and slipping them onto another plate. He settled for waffles as well, and they ate in silence for a while. It was nice, just sitting there, not worrying about having to immediately do chores or coddle a demanding partner. Jon's eyebrows furrowed slightly at the thought, and he really didn't want to look at the phone that was buried in the sweatpants he was borrowing. He plopped another bite of waffle in his mouth, loving the sweetness of the syrup as his eyes shut.

Martin watched him with an amused grin, his head tilting slightly. Jon looked almost… blissful. Jon finished his waffles, happily eating another as Martin poked at the plate with extras.  

"Thank you, Martin," Jon finally breathed as he set his fork neatly on his plate, going to stand. "I can do the dishes."

Martin held out a hand as he stood, "N-No, you're my guest. Now gimme,"  Martin curled his fingers at the plate Jon was holding. 

"Oh… alright then," Jon murmured, a look of confusion crossing his features as he gingerly passed his plate to Martin. Jon sat back down slowly, his palms resting flat on the table as he watched Martin clear the table. He couldn't help but note Martin's frown as he picked up Jon's full mug of tea.

"You can relax Jon, I've got it," Martin said softly, offering Jon a smile.

Jon smiled quickly back up at Martin before shifting in his seat as he brought his hands to rest in his slap. "Sorry, I'm just not used to not cleaning up after a meal," Jon mumbled quietly, his eyes darting to the knickknacks on the table's surface. 

"Oh," Martin couldn't help but breath out before quickly sputtering, "Th-That's quite alright. No worries. Friends share responsibilities." 

Jon felt himself smile softly as he murmured, "Okay." 

Martin nodded to himself, heading into the kitchen to put the dishes in the dishwasher. He's but a few minutes before he returns to the table where Jon is sitting patiently. His hair is still a mess, and his eyes are still dark underneath. 

"Um…" Martin starts, and he notices Jon visibly tense. 

"I-I guess I should probably get, um, going now," Jon murmured, although he stayed bolted to his spot.

Martin shook his head, "No - No. You… don't have to leave, Jon. I'm… I'm sorry but I can't let you leave without at least talking about what happened last night."

Jon's shoulders drew inward as he mumbled, "Right - ah, I'm sorry," Jon began, "It was really impolite of me to intrude, and I should have -"

" Jon ," Martin said, his voice coated with disbelief. 

Jon swallowed, but didn't meet Martin's gaze as he whispered again, "S-Sorry." 

Martin sighed and crouched next to Jon's chair so he could catch Jon's gaze. "Hey," Martin murmured softly, his eyes welcoming, "This is a safe place. You are safe here, w-with me."

Jon curled his fingers into the sleeves of his shirt as he shuddered out, "Do you promise?" 

Martin made a sound, his heart hurting as he nodded, "I promise. Why don't, why don't we go sit on the sofa? Get a little more comfortable." 

Jon's lips twitched as he whispered, "Okay."

Martin smiled as he praised, "Good, good." 

They both made their way to the living room, Jon sitting on one corner of the couch. Martin almost sat down before an idea popped into his head. "Hold on just a moment," and he strained to reach behind the couch, grabbing the blanket that must have fallen the night before. Martin offered it to Jon, and Jon hesitantly took it, wrapping it around himself and fiddling with the edge. 

Martin tried to relax, or to at least appear relaxed before he started, "I know… I know you're nervous, and this is… really h-hard stuff to talk about? But, I'm here for you Jon, and I'm not going anywhere." Martin reassured. Jon watched him closely, his expression closed off as Martin continued. "We could watch some TV for a while? I'm sure well educated people like yourself enjoy SpongeBob?" 

Jon's eyebrows twitched, and he nodded.

"Okay then, let's just… get comfortable then," Martin says and reaches for his remote.

He barely touches it when he hears Jon shudder, "My nightmare was about Elias."

Martin pauses for a moment, turning his gaze to meet Jon's shifty eyes. He pulls away from the remote, leaving it on the coffee table as he turns his body to face Jon.

"I see. And was he, um... h-hurting you… in this nightmare?" Martin asked cautiously. He didn’t even know where to start.

Jon took in a deep, shaky breath as he nodded, and he could feel the ghost of Elias' hands on his neck. 

Martin bites his lip before asking, "And does… does he hurt you outside of your dreams?" 

Jon looks to the side, his eyes falling to a leafy plant in the corner of the room. He squeezes his eyes shut and barely whispers, "Yes." 

Martin deflates a bit as he murmurs, "Oh Jon." 

"I-I'm sorry," Jon stammers out, his eyes flicking to Martin's. 

"No," Martin says, sympathetic pain laced through his voice as he scoots closer to Jon, his hand held out. "Jon, no, you don't ever need to apologize for what he did. Okay?"

Jon nods, a feeble, "Okay," passing through his lips as he bunches up the blanket up in his palms.

"Good, good. And if I have to keep reminding you, I'm okay with that," Martin says, his voice gentle. 

Jon looks at him, and he doesn't know why he's spilling such toxic truths to the librarian he's known for a couple months, but he just can't help it. "There are… rules. His rules. If I break them o-or mess up, I get punished." Jon rubs at his arm before hesitantly tugging his sleeve up to reveal his bruised wrist.

Martin gasps, and he's even closer now as he peers at Jon's wrist. It looks horrible, achingly horrible. "My God," Martin breathes.

"You, heh, y-you should see the rest of me," Jon jokes weakly. 

A sound bubbles in Martin's chest as he cries, "Jon this isn't okay - none of this is okay - that - can I see that?" Martin asks as he gestures to Jon's wrist. Jon retracts a bit, shy of Martin's fingers. "Ah - okay, I just -" Martin presses his lips into a firm line, regaining himself before he blinks back at Jon, his palm resting on the back of the sofa. "Do they hurt?" Martin asked quietly.

"Yes," Jon mumbled and Martin wanted to punch himself for such a stupid question. 

Martin shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to keep his hatred for Elias at bay. "Alright… Jon… why… why haven't -" 

"Why haven't I left him?" Jon asks, his eyes hollow.

Martin nods slowly. 

Jon lets out a shaky breath as he runs a hand through his messy hair. "I-I can't. He - he owns me Martin. I have no money, no belongings, even the clothes - they aren't mine. He's in charge of e-everything," Jon sucks in a breath before breathing out, "And I have nowhere to go. He made sure of that." 

Martin was quiet for a moment before he looked at Jon seriously. "You have me. Let me help you, Jon."

Jon's eyes snapped to Martin's and he flushed with a stutter, "N-No Martin, I- I couldn't possibly -"

"Burden me? Jon, you are not a burden. I know he's burned that into your head but you are not a burden," Martin says, his face twisted with a sympathetic agony.

Jon feels his lips quiver and he reaches up to press his hands over his face as he breathes out hopelessly, "I don't know what to do."

Martin coos, and his body burns with the urge to hug Jon, to hold him and protect him from the world. "Th-That's okay Jon. We can figure it out, together , so please, please let me help you." Jon whimpers into his hands, his eyes leaking and his body trembling as Martin murmurs, "Let me keep you safe." A broken sob escapes Jon's lips, and he's curling into himself again, but Martin reaches forward, gently pulling at Jon's hands. Jon looks at Martin with watery eyes, his eyebrows scrunched together as Martin slips his own palms over Jon's cheeks, and Jon stiffens at first as Martin repeats, his thumbs brushing gingerly under Jon's eyes, "Let me keep you safe." 

A tremor wracks Jon's body, but he suppresses his cry with a whimper as he melts into Martin's kind hands, his cheeks squishing into those warm palms as his body deflates at the gentle touch. 

Martin in turn melts, his heart thudding against his ribs as he holds Jon. Jon keeps tilting into the touch, yearning for the tenderness of gentle, warm fingers rather than hard, cold ones against his skin. 

Chapter Text

Jon is turning to goop in Martin's palms as tears stream down his face. His chest is spasming with harsh, shaky breaths as he presses closer to Martin, leaning heavily to the right as a pitiful whimper falls from his lips. He shouldn't be here - he shouldn't be allowing Martin to touch him so tenderly -

"It's okay," Martin mumbles quietly as his thumbs brush up and under Jon's eyes. The tears seem endless as Jon's body quakes while his heart aches. Martin's face is contorted with a sympathetic smile, his eyebrows curled together with worry as he tilts his head down to be level with Jon's closed eyes. "'S okay. Do…" Martin presses his lips together momentarily as Jon lets out a watery hiccup and Martin coos, "Can I give you a hug?" 

Jon peels his eyes open to stare into Martin's soft chestnut ones. He is hesitant in the way he grips at the blanket in his laps. He blinks thick tears from his eyes. He can feel the damp of his face, the way he must look like a complete mess. He shudders a breath. His vision is blurred with tears, but he sees nothing but genuine kindness in Martin's eyes. He swallows before he nods ever so minutely. "Okay," Martin murmurs quietly as his palms slip from Jon's cheeks to carefully pull them around Jon's shoulders. 

Jon stiffens and Martin freezes, ready to apologize until Job babbles his own apology, "S-Sorry, I'm - I'm not used to-" He cuts himself off as he forces his body closer to Martin and they're nearly chest to chest as Jon rests his chin atop Martin's shoulder with a watery inhale. 

"Alright, it's okay," Martin murmurs as he rests his hands on Jon's upper back. He can feel the divets of Jon's spine beneath his fingers as he cautiously starts to rub a soothing pattern there. Jon sighs, his fingers now clutching at the back of Martin's shirt as a hiccup painfully forces its way from his lungs. He feels the tears drip down his face and he can taste the saltiness as they slip between his lips. 

Jon shudders and hiccups - his chest tight and constricting as if Elias had his very hand wrapped around Jon's heart. squeezing relentlessly as Jon gasps for air. "I-I-" Jon breathes as he trembles under Martin's touch. It's all so foreign and feels so…  good. This is how you comfort someone. No guilt tripping or mind games, no sugar coated abuse, no cold fingers pressing bruises into his skin… just gentleness. It's overwhelming and too much as his cheeks flare before he sucks in a sharp breath while he jerks away from Martin. His skin is hot and his brain is muddled with confusion and anxiety as he reaches up to cover his face in shame. He is so warm, so achingly warm and yearning for more - more. He can feel his hot, shuddering breath against his palms and his damp eyelashes against his fingers as he hides hopelessly. He curls in on himself, bending forward as he dips inward. His forehead bumps Martin's knee and he stills with a great shake to his bones. 

There is a hesitant hand on Jon's back again. Calm and gentle as it smooths up and over his shoulder blade until it eventually stills to rest there. Jon can hear Martin's mumblings, his faint affirmations as he stares down at the crown of Jon's head. Martin notes the patches of gray as Jon breathes out shakily, "I d-don't know where to s...start."

Martin hums softly. His face has been fixed with a permanent sympathetic twist to his eyebrows. "Well," Martin breathes thoughtfully. "Perhaps…"

Jon can sense the gears turning in Martin's brain. He squirms before finally sitting upright again. He looked tired as he glanced at Martin patiently. His cheeks were still damp and his nose was stuffed. 

"S… Starting your own bank account would be a good place to - er - well, start, I think?" Martin said, his tone hopeful. He had little to no idea what he was doing, but those self help websites he poured over for hours one night when he first became suspicious did. 

Jon is still looking at Martin, his tired green eyes calculating as gears slowly start to break free from their rusty hibernation in Jon's mind. His mouth parts slightly as he mulls it over. He did have some hidden cash in his classroom, and it would probably be best to move it off the premises of  Magnus Academy before one of his students find it, or worse. "Al...Alright that's-that's a good idea, a-actually," Jon murmurs softly.

Martin's eyebrows raise as he breathes, "Really? You'll… You'll do it?" 

Jon's brows knit together. 

He could. He should. He would.

"Yes," Jon says slowly. "I… I think this is a good idea, Martin." Jon murmurs his praise again quietly, his eyes darting back to those delicate plants. They seem to thrive in the presence of Martin and Jon wondered momentarily if he too could thrive in Martin's presence.

"Oh," Martin beams, his cheeks squishing up with a smile, "Good! Good. I'm so proud of you Jon!"

Jon chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he mumbles, "I've hardly done anything Martin."

Martin shakes his head. "No, you've done so much already. T… Talking about it and… and making plans, it's a lot. Mentally and," Martin gestures with his fingers, "physically." 

"Oh," Jon breathes and goes to wipe his eyes, "G-Goodness, uhm," Jon stammers. "R-Right. I do apologize for the ah - waterworks - I um…" Jon pressed his lips together in thought. 

"Jon," Martin starts, and Jon's eyes flick with realization.

"Right, right. No… No apologies. Got it. I just. I've never…" Jon trails off as he grasps for words. He had learned to bottled his emotions up from an early age and he's been doing so well. It's a bit alarming that Martin was able to uncap them so easily.  

"I understand," Martin says quietly, his fingers twitching against the blanket that was partially in his lap. 

Jon's jaw clenches. He hastily goes up to wipe at his eyes again. He hides as he does so, mumbling, "Thank you, Martin." 

Martin smiles at the side of Jon's head before slowly mumbling, "I have some other ideas if… if you're up to hearing them. It doesn't have to be now! O-Of course! I know this is probably super draining and -" 

"Martin?" Jon asks quietly amidst his ramblings. Martin stops, his chestnut eyes darting to Jon because they had started to shift around the room as he spoke. 

Jon smiles. 

Jon smiles and it's so tiny and rare and beautiful. Martin's heart flutters in his chest as Jon lets out a shy, "Please, go on." 

Martin happily obliges as the sun peeks through the curtains, casting warm strips of light into Martin's cozy living room.

---

Jon is quiet now. He's shyly tucked away on Martin's couch, his cheeks flushed and eyes red and tired as Martin pads around in the kitchen. His nose is buried in the blanket that he clutched onto as he watched Martin closely.

He missed the feeling of Martin's hands on his cheeks, so gentle and kind and - 

Jon made a noise to himself, burying his face into the blanket and hiding from the world. He and Martin talked for hours, but it was good. It was so, so good and enlightening and Jon finally was going to try and get away from that bastard. He worries, though, as Martin bends down to pat Abby if all of this is safe - not for him, no, but for Martin.

The man basically asked Jon to move in not twenty minutes ago. It was all stammers and shy murmurings about how Jon should have a place to stay, that one of the upstairs rooms is decently sized, and it's better here than anywhere else; how Martin can't stand the thought of Jon sleeping one more night in the same house as Elias. Jon of course refused this all at first, but Martin made excellent points because Martin is excellent and too kind for his own good.

Martin is excellent. 

So very excellent and wonderful as a very tiny seed of hope blooms in Jon's mind. 

Chapter Text

It's been a week. A week of tip toeing and hiding and avoiding. Jon has only spoken to Elias three times. Three times of festering lies and fingers trailing over Jon's skin briefly. Cold fingers that pressed too firmly into Jon's fragile body with false proclamations of love.

It had been nearly unavoidable - this meeting. Jon could only psychically avoid Elias for so long until they'd be in the same room together whether that be at Elias' home or at school. 

Jon shifted nervously as he straddled his bag on his shoulder. Inside were items of clothing that he pulled from his side of the closet. This was almost the last run, but his books - those were a bit harder to move without notice. Those pretty, warn things that adorned the upstairs library. It is where he would spend most of his days in a subtle attempt to get away.

Now, as he stares into the room, he grows weary. Is this safe? This… separation - it's happening so fast. Is it safe for Martin, Tim, and Sasha, and - Martin? Tim and Sasha did not bat an eye when Jon murmured something to them about getting lunch together and then making it a routine. They didn't think twice about Martin tagging along. Sweet Martin who leant Jon a spare room in his home. Sweet Martin who happily made Jon his own key to his safe haven. Sweet Martin who took Jon to the bank - driving him all over the place like an eager chauffeur while babbling about the spare dresser and how they'll have to get Jon a bed and-

Jon jumps as fingers brush against his elbow. A low chuckle rumbles behind him as Elias murmurs, "Hmm, going somewhere?"

Jon turns in Elias' grasp to peer up at him, eyes wide and lit with fear as he stutters, "O-Oh you're -" He swallows as his brows knit together in a twitch as his eyes skirt to the wall, "Home?" Jon couldn't help the tilted tone of his voice as his heart lurched up into his throat. He wasn't supposed to be here - He was supposed to still be at school, holed away as he works on quarterly reports- 

"Yes," Elias draws, his own brows knitting together in an assuming manner. His fingers have traveled to Jon's waist, pressing cold tips between his ribs as he leans closer to nuzzle his nose against Jon's cheek before breathing out, "I've missed you." The possessive breath in Jon's ear made his skin crawl. 

"Well," Jon mumbles stiffly as he remains still. He stares at the wall, a fixed point of nothing as he speaks quietly, "You've been busy." Elias hums and he's engulfing Jon in his own personal hell. The crisp smell of sandalwood slips around his neck and Jon's breath sizzles from his throat. He forces himself to breathe. To suck in a sharp breath and jerk from Elias' grasp with a shudder. " Don't ," Jon hisses. "D-Don't do that."

Elias' face twists into a curious scowl as he steps forward, caging Jon slowly. "Don't do what , exactly?" 

Jon seethes in quiet, terrified rage as he bumps into the bed. His knees nearly buckle as his lips curl with a growl, "Don't fucking touch me." 

"O h ?" Elias breathes as his mouth twists into a devious smile. "Getting braver are we?" 

Elias steps closer as Jon's fingers tighten around the strap of his bag. "I-I-" He stutters as Elias looms in all his glory. Pointed eyes, dark and hateful. Broad, unwelcoming shoulders. Hair too perfect.

They are nearly toe to toe as Elias' nose twitches up in a snarl, "Or have you been spending too much time with that-" Elias grimaces as if the word is rotten on his tongue, " Librarian ." Jon swallows, unable to answer as Elias' fingers grip at Jon's arms. "He's poisoning you - making you believe in things that are simply not possible." 

Jon can't help the snort that escapes. "That's rich coming from you."

"Ah," Elias tuts with a roll of his eyes, "Don't be absurd, we've talked about this. Your silly little mind is playing tricks on you." His hand trails up to pet at Jon's hair. "I love you, Jonathan, I only do what's best for you."

Jon remains still. Frozen in place and his heart vibrates in his throat and ears and his eyes are watering as Elias tilts his gaze to level with Jon's. There's a malicious look in his eyes as he considers Jon for a moment before he hums thoughtfully, tugging Jon to his chest and wrapping his arms around Jon's back tightly. "I should have a... word with that Martin. He's becoming more of an… issue, than I originally thought." A shiver jolts up Jon's spine as Elias ghosts his fingers down Jon's back before whispering next to Jon's ear, "He could never love you like I do." 

Jon whimpers and shoves at Elias' chest, breaking free only momentarily until Elias’ fingers are digging into his wrist. "Stop," Jon pleads, his face twisted up and his lips quivering, "P-Please, I-I'm done, okay?" 

" Done ." Elias echoes. His jaw clenches as his eyes narrow and Elias jerks on Jon's arm, earning a yelp as he falls forward into Elias' chest. His arms cage Jon against him as he accuses in a low growl, "You like him, don't you?" 

"N-" Jon tries and he tries and tries as tears drip from his eyes. He blinks up at Elias, "N-No-" He cries out in surprise as a fist cracks against his cheek. Pain spreads like wildfire across his eye and he can’t tell if the dampness on his face is only tears anymore. Jon scrambles back against a wall with his palms outstretched as he tries, "E-Elias - N-No- I-"

"You were going to leave me, for him? Pathetic ," Elias spits before grabbing a fistful of Jon's sweater. "You are nothing , he will get tired of you in a second," Elias seethes as he shakes Jon with every punctuation. "You are nothing but a weak , meaningless waste of space. Crippled and ill. You can't take care of yourself," Elias pulls Jon back and slams him into the wall. Jon whimpers as more pain burns up his spine while Elias stares splitting daggers down at him, "He won't take care of you like I do. He won't be able to put up with you and your shit ."

Jon is shaking and whimpering and all he can taste is the blood on his tongue as Elias strikes him again and again. Knuckles cracking against skin and bone, tearing and bruising flesh. His eye is throbbing and his face is wet as Elias growls down at him, "You disgust me." 

Elias shoves him into the wall one final time before standing at full height, a snarl on his lips as he huffs out harshly, "Get out of my sight." Jon blinks with confusion up at Elias. His mouth is hung open and he knows blood is dripping down his chin as Elias  jabs his finger at the door, a scream bubbling from his lips, " Get out!" Jon scrambles to his feet, his heart bouncing haphazardly in his chest as he clutches at his bag, eyes wide and terrified as Elias shoves at him with a low, threatening snarl, "Get out before you make me do something you'll regret." 

Jon makes a noise of surprise and his legs are moving faster than his brain as he stumbles down the steps, missing the last two and slamming down onto the tile floor. A wheeze slips from his lips as he lay on his back, his mind soaking with fear when he spots Elias at the top of the stairs. It takes mere seconds for Jon to scoop up his bag and book it. He's running. 

He's running as fast as he can and his legs burn. They ache and scream as he slams his feet across the pavement while tears slip from his eyes. The wind is sharp, cold. It's splintering into Jon's flesh as he heaves in a breath. His lungs are on fire and he's sure his throat is closing up as he barrels through the side door of Magnus Academy. He stumbles into the barren halls. It's dark and echoing as he steps with shaky legs across the linoleum tile. This used to be such a lovely place. He'd come here to relax - to teach and learn and read and now that is all gone. It is a hiding place, one that can easily be sought out.

With great effort he pushes into the library door, not registering that it should be locked at this hour as his knees give out in protest. He hits the floor with a thud, his body wrecked with a sob as he sits on his knees. His balled up fists press into the carpet as he rests his head on the floor, a weak sigh falling from his lips. 

" J-Jon?"  

Jon jumps from his skin, his eyes wide and his hair messy as he whips his head up to meet Martin's gaze. His jaw hangs open and he stutters out incoherent babble. 

Martin's eyes widened the moment Jon peered up at him. His face was blooming with new red and purple bruises, and Christ - blood dripped from his cracked lips. Martin drops to the floor, his hand immediately reaching out for Jon only to cause him to inhale sharply and fall back to the door.  "Oh!" Martin gasps and retracts his hand, stuffing it under his legs as he sputters, "I-I'm sorry - it's okay - I won't -"

Jon is wheezing now. His chest is heaving up harshly with each breath and he can barely exhale as he chokes on the air while Martin looks at him with a twisted up facial expression and Jon can hardly think right now and his legs hurt and he can't breathe - 

"Jon, Jon - y-you're having a panic attack, o-okay? Remember, breathe s-slow, with me?" Martin advises as he carefully inches closer. 

Jon's frantic eyes reach Martin's as they continue to drip and he sucks in a desperate breath before slowly - painfully - letting it out. 

"Good, good," Martin praises softly, his brows twisted up in sympathy as he untucks one of his palms to slide it across the floor. The gesture is silent, but Jon's eyes fall to the floor as he swallows another sob before shakily grabbing at Martin's hand. "Okay," Martin breathes. He nods to himself before hesitantly scooting forward. Jon's eyes flicked at the movement, and he shifted slightly as an apology brewed in his storming stomach. "I-I know you're scared right now, but it's okay, it's okay Jon," Martin starts as he scans his eyes over the trembling person before him. There's no way of telling what damage has been done under Jon's rumpled sweater. His eyes land on the blood on Jon's lip and he grimaces as he notices another gash above Jon's eyebrows. Martin's brows dip and twist as sorrow and anger fuel his veins before he breathes quietly, "You're bleeding." 

Jon's brows furrow and he reaches up to touch his eye and draws back with a hiss. "And!" Martin's voice rises with urgency, " Bruised - Don't touch it, o-okay?"

Jon is trembling. His very bones are shaking on their foundations as he nods meekly, a terrible weakness settling in his knees. His throat is sore and it's swelling around the words in his throat as he gasps, "He-" A whole stream of new tears spill as he recalls it all.

"Ah- Uhm," Martin swallows, his hand raising slowly as he tries to soothe, "You don't need to talk about it - at least not now, not here."

Jon looks up at Martin through bleary eyes and he can see the worry painted across his features plain as day. Martin may not hurt Jon, but he'll worry. He'll worry and worry and make himself sick because of Jon -

"Hey, hey hey hey," Martin coos, his feather light grip on Jon's shoulder. "It's okay, it's okay now. Why don't we go h-home… now, okay?" 

Home?

Jon swallows. 

Is Martin's house… Jon's home now, too? Or is it really that Martin feels like home? The way he gently tugs Jon to his feet, supporting him by the shoulders so kindly. The way he takes Jon's bag without thought, carrying nearly both Jon and the bag out to Martin's car. The way Martin clicks Jon's seat belt in as he stares dazed out the window. The way Martin smiles and Jon feels warmer, better in just the presence of him.

Is Martin home?