jonathan sims charges off with his team to save the world and almost none of them come back. tim dies. that sounds more like something that just happened to him than something he chose. tim goes down in a blaze of glory and he doesn’t get anything better, doesn’t get the chance to heal. at least he still has his anger and he gets to take down his brother’s killer. daisy dies. she’s still breathing, technically, but the earth swallows her whole and crushes the predator out of her, everything she valued about herself. and jon’s… not breathing, not alive but not dead. might as well be, though, right?
elias is gone but the institute isn’t any better. worse, now. martin isn’t even there when his mum dies. he thinks he was answering emails when it happened. sometimes martin just… goes away for a while, now. comes back to it and sees he’s completed a whole load of tasks, even though his fingers feel numb with cold.
he tries not to go to the hospital, tries not to sit at jon’s side and hold his hand and feel the lack of a pulse. it gets easier to stay away.
he knows he was in love with the most unattainable guy possible, he’s not stupid about it. he packs up all his fresh hurt aching feelings for jon in a little metaphorical box and closes it and pretends he simply does not see it. jon is dead. he lays in a hospital bed, apparently dreaming without a heartbeat. but when jon stopped paying rent it was martin who paid for a storage facility to hold his stuff, not indefinitely, just, just, just until he has time to fucking deal with it.
he knows finality when it closes in around him. jon is dead. sasha is dead and tim is dead and even daisy is dead, and jon is dead.
jon, the stubborn bastard, wakes up. he looks wretched. he looks beautiful. he’s all at once larger than life and smaller and softer than he’s ever been. he looks so tired he can barely hold his bones together. he might be a god now.
martin can remember wanting, if he tries very hard to. fingers itching with the need to fix a rumpled collar or tuck a stray lock of hair. chest too small for the massive glowing warmth inside. it feels like something that happened to someone else, now. once, there was a man here who always tried to make himself useful. once, a man named martin pined after his ridiculous boss. once, they had tried to say goodbye before the end of the world, and there might have been a moment, a moment when jonathan sims looked at this man like he wanted him just as much.
now, though, there is just martin, more fog than human. distantly he’s sure he still loves jon. at least enough to demand his safety. jonathan sims wakes up after being dead for six months and whenever he manages to find martin, stuttering and shifting, he wrings his hands like he can barely keep them from reaching out. his eyes, soft and terrible. he looks like he wants something from martin. he looks like he wants everything.
martin, thankfully, is getting better at hiding away.
stormborns
2087
gracieabrams
romaincrisis
