[ Martin had walked in step with John through multiple hellscapes before he’d reached his own – and while he loathed the idea of being sustained by others’ suffering, he’d lingered awhile longer than he had in others. Even then, the version of himself he’d made to exist to not be alone had called him on his bullshit. That… that was the crux of it. He’d hoped that by some fluke, that someone would raise a wand and poof – there they would be, having a very cinematic kiss over the corpse of Jonah Magnus and it would all be okay. But he had to be honest with himself; he was very aware of the possibility that John would succumb to that heavy burden of guilt. It didn’t matter that the man had never asked for this power – neither of them had – John would inevitably do something drastic. The thought that he would have to kill John had made itself an unwelcome, uneasy guest before Other Martin twisted it deeper into his awareness.
He didn’t think he could do it. He’d plucked at the strings the Web had sewn -- a tapestry stretched taut at all four corners of their world, and hoped Annabelle would give him The Answer, an alternative that could save them both. It had been foolish, and yet... They’re here, wherever ‘here’ is.
He doesn’t have it in him to tell John that he was right, because Martin doesn’t think there could have been a right answer. He’d still had to do the unthinkable.
John leans into him and he's met with the overwhelming urge to never let him go — ] R-right. Did you– [ There’s a soft, muttered curse as he very carefully pulls back enough to take some of the pressure off of John’s chest, clearly at odds if he should laugh or cry. He is, more or less relieved, and sinks back to lean against the edge of the cot. ] Did you happen to forget an anniversary or something? Seems a bit extreme, if you ask me. [ He’d tried to force an airy tone. He managed wet, but his smile matches the warm cadence of John's voice, and he never wanted to think that he'd have to wonder if he'd hear it again. Martin reaches for his hand instead. ] I think your boyfriend's a bit of a dick.
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He didn’t think he could do it. He’d plucked at the strings the Web had sewn -- a tapestry stretched taut at all four corners of their world, and hoped Annabelle would give him The Answer, an alternative that could save them both. It had been foolish, and yet... They’re here, wherever ‘here’ is.
He doesn’t have it in him to tell John that he was right, because Martin doesn’t think there could have been a right answer. He’d still had to do the unthinkable.
John leans into him and he's met with the overwhelming urge to never let him go — ] R-right. Did you– [ There’s a soft, muttered curse as he very carefully pulls back enough to take some of the pressure off of John’s chest, clearly at odds if he should laugh or cry. He is, more or less relieved, and sinks back to lean against the edge of the cot. ] Did you happen to forget an anniversary or something? Seems a bit extreme, if you ask me. [ He’d tried to force an airy tone. He managed wet, but his smile matches the warm cadence of John's voice, and he never wanted to think that he'd have to wonder if he'd hear it again. Martin reaches for his hand instead. ] I think your boyfriend's a bit of a dick.