Work Text:
If you’d told Martin ten years ago that this is where he would be, he wouldn’t believe you.
But here he was, on the roof of The Magnus Institute, his apparently spooky job, trying to get away from it all, to be free from it all.
Tim was being so, so, so nasty to Jon, and he had every right to be mad at Elias but not at Jon.
And Jon was sick and wouldn’t even come out of his office.
It was all so goddamn much and Martin was so… so close to jumping and just leaving them to figure it out on their own.
He had gotten so much better, he was clean and in recovery after the worms but it all was too much now.
So here he was, his face being bit by the cold air, looking out across London, sitting on the ledge of his work with an almost empty bottle of whiskey.
“Martin?”
Fuck.
Tim.
“What do you want Tim? Here to blame shit on Jon again?”
Martin winced at his own voice, it was mean and sharp but he couldn’t even care.
He heard Tim sigh and think for a second.
“Just needed some fresh air, are you okay?”
Martin laughed, a sick and broken laugh.
“Do I look okay, Tim?”
He turned around from the ledge to see Tim in a sweatshirt, his hair was messy and he looked worried.
“Do I look like I’m okay? After everything that’s happened are any of us okay? Jon is sick and hurt and is suffering and you’re mocking him and blaming him for shit that isn’t his fucking fault and all he wants is his friends but you can’t even give him that because you think he wants this.”
Martin swallowed and turned himself back to facing over London, scooting closer to the ledge.
“And you expect me to be able to treat him like that, to not care that he is dying, and I’m worried about you too! You’re so mean to everyone now and you seem like you’re going to hurt people daily and I just- I’m tired, Tim! I’m fucking exhausted and I want it to stop.”
He was yelling and crying and just wanted it to stop.
“Can you come back here, Martin?”
Tim sounded scared and Martin didn’t blame him, he knew he was acting out.
“Why? Why Tim? so I can watch you try and kill Jon and watch Jon die? So I can go to visit my mum and get told how awful I am again? So I can slice open my fucking arms and legs again and drink until I can’t feel anything?”
He turned around to see Tim looking close to tears and closer to where the ledge was.
“Please, Martin”
Tim’s voice broke and he reached out to grab the other man’s hand, but Martin pulled his hand away.
“Martin, I can’t do this without you, please I don’t know what to say or what to do to stop you but please… please Martin, you can’t leave me.”
Martin lowered his head but said nothing.
“You can’t leave Jon”
Tim was crying now but Martin wasn’t sure why.
“It’s not like you even need me or listen to me.”
Martin was so, so close to just… sliding off the roof.
“Martin, please don’t do this.”
Tim grabbed his arm and he let him, he was just tired and wanted to leave.
Tim’s head swarmed with thoughts and he was scared, he was watching Martin, happy, caring, and loving Martin ten seconds away from ending his own life.
It made Tim sick to his stomach to think about how he couldn’t even see past his rage to be able to see Martin breaking.
The worst part was that Martin wasn’t even wrong, about him or Jon.
“Please”
Maybe something in Tim’s voice finally got through to Martin, as he finally fully turned around and slid onto the roof.
Tim practically tackled him, crying and hugging him so tightly all while knocking him onto the ground.
So there they were, two men sobbing on a roof in each other’s arms at god knows what hour.
“I’m so tired Tim”
Martin’s voice broke and he buried his face into the other man’s sweatshirt.
“I’m so fucking tired of all of this I don’t want to do this anymore”
Tim held Martin close, there wasn’t much he could do.
“It’s gonna be okay, we’ll be okay.”
Martin was quiet now, distantly he remembered the first time Martin had opened up to him.
It felt so long ago now, when their biggest problem was the worms, and with Sasha and Jon there, really there.
He couldn’t even remember the real Sasha.
He remembered how Martin was staying in document storage and the fear he felt when he saw Martin start to bleed from that ugly cut on his arm.
It was just a scar now, but an ugly one, red and wide.
He remembered a few days after, where it was so tense in the archives but still comfortable and how they didn’t talk about it again.
God, this is the second time he was too caught up in everything else to see Martin suffering.
He brushed those thoughts off for later, and he grabbed Martin’s face, softly wiping his tears.
And that’s there they sat for hours, watching the sunrise over London, and hardly talking.
Tim knew they wouldn’t be okay, but for tonight, he didn’t care.