Chapter Text
Jon is…well, panicking would be putting it mildly. When he got back home from school on Wednesday, he realised how much he actually still had to do to prepare for Martin’s arrival. Which is tomorrow. God.
He did quite a lot of cleaning the evening before, just after Martin left. Him and Georgie were up quite late, music playing softly while they each cleaned up parts of the apartment. He even has an air mattress ready for Martin in his room. Jon feels a bit guilty that they don’t have anything better for Martin to sleep on. The couch is definitely not an option, he’s dozed off there before while watching a documentary and the aches in his muscles when he woke up were…certainly something.
Well, if it turns out the air mattress doesn’t work for Martin, Jon could always insist he takes the bed instead. He knows Martin would never accept, and maybe not even complain if he sleeps badly on the air mattress, but Jon will convince him if necessary. Growing up, he’s always been scolded about his stubbornness by his grandma, and maybe that will help him out this time. He’s pretty sure of it.
It's fine for now, though. What isn’t fine, is how empty their fridge is. They’ll need to get more food now, but he isn’t sure what Martin likes to eat. Jon shoots him a quick text, and gets a response pretty much immediately. Apparently he’s fine with just about anything, just not mushrooms. The exact phrasing Martin used was ‘Though I’m not the biggest fan of mushrooms, but they’re alright. :)’ Which Jon translated to I hate mushrooms, I just don’t want to be a bother.
Martin doesn’t like talking about things that bother him, nor does he like asking people for things. When exactly Jon had become aware of that, and just when he figured out how to decipher exactly what he means, he isn’t sure. Oh well. Jon doesn’t really know how to feel about that, he realises with a deep sigh.
The short trip to the supermarket takes about as long as it does most of the time. Normally Georgie gets their groceries, but since she’s off doing…whatever, and Jon has had a pretty light pain day he decided why not go? He knows it takes him longer than it does for most people, but that’s alright. He's not in a rush.
Jon does a quick sweep of their house, cleaning the last few things and making sure there’s space for some of Martin’s things. He moves his clothes to one side of his closet, which doesn’t take a lot of time since there isn’t a lot to move. Then all that’s left to do for him now is just waiting. Maybe he overestimated how much he still had to do. Maybe.
It’s been raining for most of the day, and Jon has been itching to sit down and read ever since he woke up that morning. Now he’s done cleaning, it’s the perfect time. Georgie won’t be back soon, most likely, and he has leftovers in the fridge that he can eat for dinner. He’s already gotten Martin’s address when they texted earlier, and they agreed to meet at Martin’s place at 11 on Thursday.
So, a few minutes later, Jon’s settled in on the couch with a horror book titled Family Business he bought a long while ago, and a cup of tea. For the next few hours the only times Jon moves is to get a new cup of tea, and to go to the bathroom once or twice. By the time he eats his dinner it’s already well past 7pm, but he doesn’t mind. He leaves the book on their coffee table, carefully closed with a bookmark to mark his page. Georgie usually just puts her books upside down when she wants to remember where she is, and it annoys Jon so badly he bought a collection of bookmarks for them both to share. (Which are mostly used by him, but still).
Jon ends up reading most of the book that evening -and eventually until deep into the night- before he remembers to head to bed. Despite them only meeting at 11 the next morning, he still has to get up on time since the bus journey to Martin takes quite long. He doesn’t know how they’ll get all his things back to the apartment, but they’ll figure it out. Maybe Martin doesn’t even have than many things to take with him?
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Martin is on his way back home for the first proper time since his mom informed him he has to leave. Home? He considers it for a moment. It isn’t really home anymore. What does he call it, then? His mum’s flat? He drops his head against the window with a groan. The buildings blur past, just a mess of faint colours and lights, barely distinguishable in the dark.
He is so grateful for Jon. Jon, who’s allowing him to stay at his place while he figures things out. Martin knows, deep down, that he isn’t intending to stay very long. He appreciates the offer so much, more than he can express to Jon, but he feels ever so guilty. He needs to get his shit together, goddamn it. He shuts his eyes briefly, and before he knows it his stop gets called. Martin picks his bag up off the grimy bus floor, and walks out the doors briskly.
The walk to his apartment is quiet and nearly void of other people, save for a group of drunk people excitedly chattering as they walk past. If the walk were much longer, he might’ve lost himself in the silence, back to his foggy state. He can’t do that, though. Not now. He has things to do. He fidgets with his fingers to keep him grounded as he walks until he ends back up at his mum’s flat. Not his. No longer his, echoes around in his head.
Instead of spending a long while preparing to enter, he just walks in. The jingle of his keys feels so loud, shattering the quiet around him briefly.
Martin toes off his shoes carefully, and makes his way through the flat. His mom is in the living room, he knows. The hum of the TV feels so familiar, yet so strange. It might be the last time he hears it. Tears well up in his eyes, but he ignores them, instead walking through the living room quickly.
His mum doesn’t move, doesn’t even make a sound to indicate she’s aware of Martin’s presence, but he knows she’s aware of him. That might hurt even more than the cold or angry responses he’s used to.
Shutting the door of his room behind him muffles the sound of the television again. Normally a wave of serenity washes over him, a thankful escape to the tension he feels around his mum. Now it’s just an eerie silence, reminding him all too much of the foggy state he’d found himself in when he got informed of being kicked out.
It wasn’t the first time it happened. Martin has been dealing with it for as long as he knows, the fog clouding up his brain whenever something bad happens and shutting him down entirely. He doesn’t even remember most of what he did whenever he finds himself in that state. The worst he remembers it being was when his mom first got sick and his dad left. He was so young, and when he finally came back to himself he could barely remember his name.
Martin thought it was finally getting better. That he finally overcame it. After all, it hadn’t happened for months and the times it did happen were very short and easy to get out of, mainly with the help of Tim. But now….
He has some vague memories of things that happened. Martin remembers being at a hotel, at some point? Walking through the rain? He doesn’t know what would’ve happened if he hadn’t gone to school. Hadn’t had Jon. Maybe he would have disappeared entirely, leaving just the empty husk of his body behind.
No. No, he has to stay here. Stay present. Martin clenches his fists, digging his nails deep into his skin and exhaling a shaky breath. The slight stinging in his hands keeps him grounded, but he knows that’s not a good way of dealing with this. Instead he decides that taking a shower might help. He’d gotten so cold, when did that happen? Either way, he has to do something about it. Keep pulling himself away from that fog. He saw the worry in Jon’s eyes. He can’t see Jon like that again.
When exactly he started caring about that, he isn’t sure exactly. Had Jon become so important to him? Obviously they’re friends, but does he have such a substantial effect on Martin? Apparently so.
One hot shower later, Martin feels much more like himself again. The sinking feeling etched deep into his bones, weighing him down, is still present, but much more manageable. He tried fixing the mess of curls on his head, but to no avail. Maybe they will look at least a bit better tomorrow? He hopes so. One of the last conscious thoughts before he falls asleep is that maybe he should go to the hairdresser’s soon.
The next morning he wakes to his alarm he set the night before. After all, he’ll need the entire day to pack his belongings and figure out which ones to take with him to Jon and Georgie’s. He can’t really think of it as his place. After all, it’s just temporary. Martin wants to bother them the least amount possible.
He isn’t sure what exactly he should do. Does he make breakfast for his mum? Or is he not really welcome anywhere but his room? He settles on just making some basic sandwiches, taking one back to his room and leaving the other two out in the kitchen in case his mum wants them. Normally he doesn’t eat in his room, he hates stepping on crumbs whenever he walks around barefoot because he can always feel them clinging to the soles of his feet. Now it doesn’t really matter anymore, he supposes.
Since it’s still quite early, he starts with his clothes. They don’t make a lot of noise, after all, and he wants to prevent waking up his mum, if possible. He doesn’t know how exactly she’d respond, or if she’d even respond at all but he doesn’t want to find out, if he can prevent it. He got the cardboard boxes from their storage closet, they kept them from their initial move to the apartment. It’s kind of ironic that he’s using the same ones to move back out, alone this time.
Sorting out his clothes takes longer than expected. They’re pretty much scattered around in piles all around his room, and figuring out which ones he needs to take is rather difficult. He knows whatever he doesn’t bring with him will be in a storage unit quite nearby, but still. When he’s filled two different boxes with pretty much all of his clothes separated in “bringing to Jon’s” and “Storage” it’s nearly two hours later. If time keeps passing at this rate he isn’t sure he can figure out his things on time.
When he stops his music and takes off his headphones, he’s greeted by the background hum of the television again. She’s awake. He didn’t hear her yell, though, and the volume was low enough that he would have heard it, so it should all be good.
His stomach picks that moment to growl, and he comes to the conclusion that he is actually quite hungry. He walks to the kitchen quietly, to find that the plate that held the other two sandwiches is gone. So he did make the right decision preparing enough food for both of them.
Martin doesn’t particularly feel like putting in a lot of effort, so he just makes another three of the same sandwiches. This time he takes two and leaves one for his mum. On his way back through the living room he pauses briefly. Should he…say something? After all, she’s just sitting there. He needs to decide quickly, otherwise she might just make a snide remark and he doesn’t know how well he’d deal with that. He just ends up quietly continuing to his room. He’ll talk to her…later.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, and fishing it out while balancing the plate in his left hand he notices that Jon sent him a message inquiring about what foods he likes and dislikes. He quickly makes his way back into his room -thankfully he left the door open so he doesn’t have to open it with his hands full- and shuts the door behind him with a push of his leg. The plate he puts on his desk, on top of a pile of…well, whatever it is, forgotten temporarily. He shoots back an answer about “being fine with anything but preferring things without mushrooms.” Which is putting it quite mildly. He despises mushrooms, especially thanks to their texture, but he doesn’t want to make things more difficult for Jon and Georgie after already staying over at their place and taking up space.
A quick lunch later, he continues the separating of his belongings into “need to take” and “don’t need.” Most he just puts in differently labelled boxes, but the fragile things, and the things most important he takes in his backpack. So it continues the entire afternoon and early evening, only stopping briefly whenever his phone buzzes to another text from Jon which eventually stop coming. Everything in his room is now packed away, along with a few of his mugs and his extra pair of shoes. The only things left are his toiletries.
Including his Tgel. Right. He’ll have to explain that to Jon. His fingers hover over the bottle for a moment before he resolutely picks it up and puts it in the bag with the rest of his toiletries. Jon would find out eventually, if he hasn’t yet figured it out by now. He doesn’t seem like he’d be transphobic? But Martin can’t be entirely sure. If it does appear to be an issue…he’ll figure it out. He doesn’t want to think about that right now.
When he returns to his room with his toiletry bag, he realises how empty it actually is. The room is basically stripped of all its personality, all the signs that Martin lived here for so many years. It nearly reminds him of a hotel room, just with worse furniture. All his belongings are neatly packed away into a couple of boxes and a bag, just his phone charger and bedsheets remaining.
It’s nearly sickening, a lump forming in his throat and a desperate urge to leave, just get out and don’t come back.
He doesn’t belong here anymore. It’s dinnertime, but Martin isn’t hungry. He curls up on his bed and hugs the sheets tightly to his chest. It’s so strange. Never did he think he’d be moving out of this flat tomorrow. This place that has been his home for so many years.
A long, long moment of just laying there later, he finally drags himself out of bed. His mum must be hungry right now, he should really make something. If only for her sake.
Cooking just blurs together. He ends up with two plates of pasta pesto, one of his favourite recipes, and contemplates what to do. Does he leave her food in the kitchen? Maybe it’d be cold by the time she’d find it, then. He should just put it down on the table and leave. Yes, that’s what he should do. It’s simple; place down the plate, then leave quickly.
Despite the constant internal chanting, he doesn’t immediately hurry back to the kitchen. Instead, he lingers a few meters from the couch.
“I packed my things. My friend is coming to help with moving my things tomorrow at 11.”
His voice is slightly hoarse from disuse, and the lack of drinking enough water, but it doesn’t waver.
“Don’t forget to leave your keys on the kitchen table when you leave.” Is the answer.
“Okay, mum.” He responds calmly. He didn’t expect much different. Although the conversation has definitely come to an end, he takes a last few seconds to engrain this memory deep into his brain.
She seems so calm, just sitting there. The side of her face he can see from here faintly illuminated by the TV. She looks so much better than she has in a long, long while. The lines, and intense tiredness engraved into her face for so long nearly gone, and no longer is she huddled up shuddering under a pile of blankets just to keep herself warm enough. He hoped her getting better would also mean her resentment for Martin lessening, but oh was he wrong. Nothing changed. He’s glad she feels better, though. That’s all he ever wished for her.
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When Jon is sure he’s found himself at the right building he texts Martin. Within less than a minute the door to the apartment complex is opened by him, greeting Jon with a tired smile.
“Hey, thanks for helping out. I appreciate it.”
“It’s really no problem, I don’t mind helping.” Jon smiles back.
In front of the door to Martin’s apartment, they come to a halt. Martin turns to him.
“Right, I’m not sure how my mom will respond to you being here. S-sorry in advance if she’s…not very kind.”
“I’m sure it’ll be alright, but thank you for the warning.” Right. Martin has never really talked about his mum, so Jon doesn’t know what exactly to expect, so he’s cautious when they walk into the living room where she’s sat on the couch.
To Jon, and apparently Martin’s, surprise she turns to them. Her expression blank, she just welcomes Jon into her apartment and introduces herself. Her apartment. That wording doesn’t sit right with him, neither does the way she’s avoiding looking at Martin entirely and just staring at Jon. It makes him feel uncomfortable, yet he remains polite.
To his relief there aren’t a lot of boxes. When they enter Martin’s room, it’s completely empty save for a desk, bed and a closet. He can’t imagine what it would’ve looked like with all of Martin’s things.
They discuss their plan for a moment, then decide on going to the storage unit first and then continuing to Jon’s place from there. They tried, and figured out that it’s doable in just one go. thank the gods we won’t have to do this a second time.
Jon and Martin are both carrying half of the boxes. Martin has the heavier ones so Jon can hold them more easily without having his limbs give out from underneath him, and then that’s that. When Martin puts his keys on the kitchen counter Jon can’t help but notice the deep, deep sadness passing over him. This seems to affect Martin heavily, but he doesn’t want to pry. Martin will tell him when he’s ready.
And then that’s that. They’re in the bus by twelve, at the storage unit by one, and at Jon (and now Martin’s) place by one-thirty, both utterly exhausted. Most of the boxes they left at the storage unit, so they ended up with just two boxes and a bag at Jon’s, but it was hard work nonetheless.
“Right. Welcome!” Jon opens the apartment door with a smile. Martin smiles back. “So, what do you want to do now? Want to settle in first, or lunch first?”
“Is lunch okay? I forgot breakfast, and dragging around boxes on public transport is quite tiring.”
Over lunch, they end up talking about all sorts of things. More about Slay the Princess, school, and just about anything comes up. Afterwards Jon shows Martin his room. Well, theirs for now, and apologises for it not being much, but of course Martin doesn’t mind. Jon offers to help, but Martin asks to unpack by himself so Jon stays in the living room for the time being. Georgie texted that she won’t be back tonight, so “they can do whatever ;)” Which Jon replies to with a middle finger emoji.
After letting Martin unpack for a bit, Jon knocks on the bedroom door to interrupt for a moment, having remembered something important.
“Yeah?” Martin looks at him, seemingly having been busy with putting down a collection of nail polishes on a shelf.
“I, ah…Here.” Jon holds out the apartment key to Martin. He discussed it for a while with Georgie, and then they settled on getting an extra key made so Martin can come in on his own as well. “We- We realised that you’ll be living here, at least for a while, and we wanted you to be able to get in and out on your own as well.”
This seems to make Martin blush deeply.
“O-oh, thank you, I- I appreciate it.” He fumbles to put down the nail polish he was holding and takes the key from Jon, avoiding looking at him. “Thank you.” He repeats quietly.
This, much to Jon’s dismay, also seems to make him blush. Thankfully his skin tone means it isn’t very visible, but still.
“It’s really no problem.” He says softly. Jon lingers by the door for a bit, Martin hasn’t yet gone back to organising his things yet either. “S-so, need any help?”
“Oh! Right, thanks, I- I was…no thank you.” Martin stammers.
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They had Chinese for dinner. Neither felt like cooking, so it was the perfect solution. Yet again, they ended up watching Doctor Who.
Martin brought a blanket as well, one that was, Jon noted, so much softer than theirs. Martin noticed, of course, and they huddled up under his blanket together. Both with a cup of tea.
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Falling asleep ends up being way easier than Martin anticipated. His day has been exhausting, to say the least, and he passes out almost immediately when he lays down on the air mattress now with his blanket and pillow on top of it. Jon offered the bed to him, if he preferred, but Martin denied the offer -not without thanking Jon, of course- and said the air mattress would be just fine. It’s a little small, and dents quite deeply when he lays down, but he can get used to it.
He can get used to living here.
Just for the time being, though. He won’t stay here. Despite how safe it feels with Jon there, he won’t stay for long. He needs to find his own place eventually. Not yet, though. Now, he can just sleep.