Escalation // for John

[loficharm]

[continued from here]


Well, shit. Martin sits in startled silence as John gets up, practically sneering at him. He hadn't fully anticipated this reaction, which probably makes him a fool, but - he was just trying to be up front. Even if it wasn't something John wanted to hear, at least it was honest, right? He'd thought perhaps they could be adults about this.

Doesn't really matter. It clearly didn't have the desired effect, and he can't really blame John for that. He's angry enough to leave, though he does take his meager and very late breakfast with him - that's something at least. For a moment Martin just stays put, staring at the door as John moves through it, dimly aware that everyone is now staring at him. Maybe it is better this way. Perhaps he deserves this. If John doesn't want what little he can offer, then it's just as well; the transition will be easier.

As soon as he suffers these thoughts, Martin grimaces and gets up quickly. He's being an idiot. He's been an idiot. Pushing John away has been awful enough without these extraordinary circumstances complicating affairs. Now, here, where they might have some kind of respite, where he might be able to actually tell John what was really going on, might even have time to make him understand... it's not as if John can rush into anything life-threatening here. Not related to the Extinction, at any rate.

He's getting ahead of himself. Right now the only important thing is he can't afford to let John slip away with no hope of finding him again, not easily. He doesn't bother grabbing his tea or food; doesn't want to run with them, didn't want them badly enough in the first place. He stumbles out of the cafe and spills down the street after John, who is easy to spot, tall and ungainly.

"John!" he calls, narrowly avoiding colliding with someone as he tries to catch up. "John, wait!"

Comments

[statement_ends]

John would like to say that Martin's voice has no impact on him at all, that his steps don't falter, that his shoulders don't hunch. But it does, and he curls in on himself a little before resolutely shaking it off and picking up his pace. He's still angry, still -- despite how often it's happened and how expected it ought to be -- hurt by the way Martin had put him firmly in his place. A place that, as ever, lands well below whatever mystery project he's working on with Peter fucking Lukas.

Christ. Maybe it really is the Lonely behind all of this, after all.

Well, if Martin really wants to catch him, he can put a little effort into it. John's already made his implicit overtures. He's done.