"O-okay," Martin stammers, stumbling along as John tugs him by the arm. He doesn't like the idea of going into a shop dressed like this, with no shoes on or anything, but he knows it's better than being out here in the cold. He's just glad John is managing to keep his head on straight — not like him, too overwhelmed to have any good ideas.
John ends up pulling him into what looks like little cafe, and Martin is caught between relief at the warmth and immediate paralysis between the overwhelming smell of coffee and the looks everyone is giving them.
He wishes he wasn't dressed like this. He wishes he had any idea where he was, what happened, or how to get home. But even the idea of going home isn't that comforting — mum will be so angry at him for disappearing on her. The easiest thing to wish for is that none of this had happened at all.
But it has happened, and now he doesn't know what to do. He can't even ask, because the answer probably seems obvious. Talk to an employee, ask them to phone the police. It just feels like too much. Martin fidgets and looks down at the floor, too nervous to look directly at anyone and far too wretched to take any sort of initiative.
no subject
John ends up pulling him into what looks like little cafe, and Martin is caught between relief at the warmth and immediate paralysis between the overwhelming smell of coffee and the looks everyone is giving them.
He wishes he wasn't dressed like this. He wishes he had any idea where he was, what happened, or how to get home. But even the idea of going home isn't that comforting — mum will be so angry at him for disappearing on her. The easiest thing to wish for is that none of this had happened at all.
But it has happened, and now he doesn't know what to do. He can't even ask, because the answer probably seems obvious. Talk to an employee, ask them to phone the police. It just feels like too much. Martin fidgets and looks down at the floor, too nervous to look directly at anyone and far too wretched to take any sort of initiative.