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A quiet breeze blew in from the fields and if one ignored the smell, it was rather nice. It was dark, even in the cabin behind him, and Jon couldn’t find it in himself to complain. It wasn’t a lonely dark, consuming everything it touched, but a… Light bright. The moon illuminated the fields in front of him clearly enough and with the weight of Martin at his side how could anyone be lonely.
Speaking felt too heavy. Moving felt like too much of an effort even though Jon’s trousers were slowly growing damp. He was tired, hungry, and it wasn’t perfect. Daisy’s cabin was nice, he enjoyed it here, but things… weren’t okay. Something was coming and he was scared, truly terrified. But Martin was here. And while that didn’t take away the root of his fears it did help lift some of them, helped him breath.
In.
Out.
In and out. A steady beat that over time had synched with his lovers, their shoulders pressed together. Again, not perfect. But nice for the time being. The shoe hovered but it hadn’t fallen yet. He still had time for this, Time to be happy. Jon sighed, a slow exhale of breath that caused Martins head to turn ever so slightly to look at him. Warm eyes watched Jon and the man bristled slightly under the look. “Do I have something on my face?” He asked slowly. Martin gave no verbal response, but shook his head. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you… Like you’re looking at something-”
Martin snickered and bit his lip. “Something to be loved and treasured? Something beautiful?” So that’s what that look meant. It filled his heart with warmth, but Jon could only flush. “Like you have heartburn,” He finally forced out. It sent Martin into a fit of laughter, and Jon took it as a win, lips relaxing into a small smile. This ease, this love. It was so nice to have. Nice to hold. Jon reached out and took Martin's hand, holding it in his lap.
If he could make Martin laugh then surely everything would be fine.
So long as Martin loved him, the world would be right. If he could stay here, with the smell of wet cows in their air and damp trousers, and Martin's hand in his own, then that would be fine. Jon’s smile grew and he closed his eyes, leaning against his lover's shoulder.
Possessiveness grew in his chest as the world lit up behind his eyelids, objects and people illuminated in white. He could see a vague outline of the earth beneath his hands and the trees along the horizon. He angled his hand down and saw the outline of his hand, the tangle of it as his fingers slotted gently with Martins, flexed when he squeezed the taller mans hand. But more importantly he could see the Entities marks on his own skin, on Martins. He saw the eyes on his own, the spiral, the web that laced in a steady pattern across his hand and up past his line of sight. And Martin… He saw the clouds that threatened to cover his eyes, that threatened to swallow him up. The web weaved its threads around him as well, the spiral from his time in Michaels corridors, the worms that seemed to cover his shoulders from the Corruption, but set over his heart was an eye. The clouds of white were many yes, but not like the eyes that protected his heart, not like the bands of eyes that wrapped around his throat, around his biceps and up to his throat. His own eyes were still dark, unmarked, but soon that would change.
So many Entities have tried to wrap Martin in their chains, to steal Martin from Jon. To steal him from the eye. But Jon refused to let go of him. His mark was clear on the man's heart, wrapped around him like a warm embrace. They weren’t his marks, not exactly, but he belonged to the eye so it was as good as true.
“-on? Jon? Did you fall asleep on me?” He opened his eyes and looked up at Martin blinking the dark from his eyes. “Hmm?” He murmured, once again he was given that beautiful laugh, and counted it for another win for him. Two for Jon. Step it up Martin or you’re gonna loose.
“Why don’t we go inside?”
“Yeah… That’s a good idea.”