Martin is warm in more ways than one. This is something that anyone who crosses his path may understand upon a few shared words with him. From his personality to the heat that radiates at the softest of his touches, both intimate and not. It’s almost impossible to not meet him and be left with a good impression of his character. Only those who have become so cold even his flame cannot warm them fail to behold the genuine care and concern he extends to anyone that shows him even a hint of compassion.
What less people know is that he is a flame waiting to reach a trail of gasoline until the moment the situation calls for his blaze. His anger is a different, more volatile kind of heat that will burn away anything in its path while sparing the very things he aims to protect. Martin never shows this side of himself, of course, rather remaining predictably resigned to neutrality in his circumstances unless the sources of his love are what — or who — are being put on the line in his place. It is when that which he loves is in danger that his top layer fades to reveal a snarling ghost of the person many people might have thought they had known. It is also when you see him in his true element that many stumble over themselves in their own fear, mistaking his intensity to be directed at themselves or being too intimidated to listen to his pleas for them to stay, stay, stay.
Tim, Sasha, and Jon, however, do not fall into this category.
“Playing with fire, Tim,” Martin might say.
“But oh, how sweet the burning,” Tim would sigh and touch his mouth, where Martin had kissed him with lips so warm that they left a coolness in their absence.
“You better be careful; you might be burned,” Martin might warn.
“Worth it if it means you’re within my reach,” Sasha would laugh and take his hands into her own, where she peppers his hands with the proof of her love.
“No one should have to worry for me,” Martin might whisper.
“Only if that means you are forever safe with us,” Jon would promise and raise his hand, where he trails it through his hair until he reaches the base of his neck to repeat the process once again.
In every instance Martin would pull them closer, close enough that he fears they may just burn from proximity alone. When he comes to realise that they can dance in harmony within his flames without being scorched, he wonders if perhaps he might be able to hold onto this, just a moment longer.