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Tim didn’t like to think of himself as particularly nosy. He wasn’t, at least, not at a baseline. Opportunistically nosy was maybe the best way to describe it. There were a lot of things he didn’t really consider his business, and thus, made absolutely no attempt to get involved with them in any way. Really, it was only when something really got his attention he’d bother probing, or if it was just fun probing given the reaction he got out of someone. Very often that someone was Martin, because Martin was a lot of fun to needle. Tim was careful not to totally piss him off--only to goad him a little.
Tim had thought he’d just eavesdrop for a little moment. He didn’t particularly care to listen to Martin’s whole conversation over the phone, especially when the day was over and Tim was ready to go home. He’d just listen to one or two phrases, twist it out of context, and give Martin some light-hearted shit for it. The walls of the archive were far more permeable to sound than they looked, so Tim had no trouble in leaning against the wall to try making out what Martin was saying.
He began suspecting maybe something was off when the silence went on a little longer than it had reason to. It was an uncomfortable silence, really, the kind people make when there’s something they want to say, and can’t. Tim frowned, excitement very quickly morphing into concern the longer the silence lasted. When Martin finally started talking again, Tim started mentally kicking himself for thinking this would be a fun conversation to playfully give out to Martin over.
“No it’s--I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re not supposed to do that. You could really hurt yourself, I just--I don’t want you doing that. No, I--I don’t think that. No, I just said--I don’t think you’re some stupid kid. No, I--I know you’re an adult, I’m sorry! I just think you’re pushing yourself too far. If you’re in too much pain you shouldn’t--no, I...Mum, stop, I didn’t say that!”
Tim pulled his head away from the wall and took a few steps back. He’d already listened to too much, if he was being perfectly honest with himself. This was well and truly none of his business. Tim knew a very scant bit about Martin’s...situation, with his mother. Nothing substantial--only that it was “a little complicated”, and that Martin had a lot of trouble contacting her. Tim had never been sure what to attribute that to, but he was beginning to think more and more it wasn’t really having trouble finding a good and convenient time to chat over the phone.
Tim considered just going home--he didn’t think Martin would be thrilled to hear he’d heard any of his conversation, and it wasn’t really any of his business. At the same time, though, Tim felt really badly, and Martin was very prone to letting himself feel totally helpless. It probably wouldn’t hurt to stick around and at least be there for him, even if, Tim knew, it may not accomplish much. Tim just sighed and leaned against the wall, taking out his phone, desperate to kill time and this awkward sense of waiting.
Though it felt much longer, it was a few minutes before the sound of Martin’s voice through the walls had quieted. Tim exhaled, and walked over to the door, taking extra care to knock, lest Martin get angry with him again over not doing so. Again.
“Martin? It’s Tim. Mind if I come in?”
He couldn’t see it, but Tim knew Martin had jostled in surprise based on sound alone. “ Christ , Tim, I--god, don’t scare me like that. Sure, sure, come in, I guess. Thanks for knocking, at least. What’re you doing here this late?”
“Nothing much,” Tim opened the door and took in Martin’s flushed expression, “it’s just cold out and I didn’t want to freeze to death just yet.”
“Oh. Yeah, that’s fair. I just thought--usually you’re gone by now.”
“Yeah, usually. It’s not a big deal today if I’m not.”
“Sure.”
“...You alright?”
“I’d be a lot better if you didn’t make it your personal mission to scare me half to death once a week.”
“Martin, I did knock. Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’m fine.”
“Look,” Tim sighed, “I--I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, I promise. But I...accidentally heard some of what you were saying on the phone just now. I’m just checking to make sure you’re okay before I leave you here all night.”
Martin knitted his eyebrows together. “That sounds a lot like eavesdropping, actually.”
“Martin, I had no idea who you were talking to. I thought it was, god, I don’t know, anyone else. I’m sorry. But it really doesn’t sound like you’re fine.”
“Well, I am.”
“Martin--”
“Don’t--don’t ‘Martin’ me. It’s fine. She’s always like that. I don’t know why you care so much, anyways. It’s just me.” Martin sat down on the cot, crossing his arms and not looking at Tim. Anger started welling up in Tim, and it was taking a lot not to get more actively annoyed. This was entirely why he didn’t want to say anything. The idea that people cared about him almost became an obstacle for Martin when he was like this, and he would do whatever he could to avoid acknowledging it.
Tim could’ve gotten angry. A fair bit of him wanted to. Instead, he just sat down in the one chair in the room. He could tell Martin didn’t want him there, but Tim didn’t want to leave until Martin at least somewhat understood Tim was concerned, cared about him. Maybe he wouldn’t get anywhere, but Tim had just enough patience left with Martin to try one more time.
“She doesn’t sound easy to talk to.”
“I thought you said you didn’t eavesdrop.”
“Didn’t need to hear that much to figure that out.”
“Hm.”
“Hm?”
“She...isn’t.”
“Doesn’t like to listen, or--?”
“No, she...she doesn’t. At least, not to me.”
“Right. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing you can do about it.”
Tim shrugged. “ I can listen.”
“Well, there’s not that much to listen to.”
Tim sighed again, a bit more tiredly. “Martin. Look. I just want you to get it into your head that I care about you.”
“I know. That you care, I mean.”
“Then why do you treat it like it’s a problem?”
“I don’t--that’s not fair.”
“I think it is. Martin, I get not wanting to talk about it. If you don’t want to, that’s fine. Christ knows there’s plenty of things I don’t talk about. My problem is how annoyed you get when I tell you it’s because I care.”
Martin was quiet for a moment. Then he looked back at Tim, expression mostly blank but peppered with disinterest. “Then don’t care so much.”
“Fuck’s sake,” Tim raked his hands over his face, “that’s really your response?”
“It would solve the problem.”
“No, it wouldn’t. I like you too much for it to solve the problem. Crazy as it may seem, I’m not actually in your way here.”
“Sure feels it.”
“Because you’re the one thinking it! I really like you, Martin. There’s a lot you don’t give yourself any credit for.”
Martin fidgeted, a little uncomfortably. “I’ve never really done anything for you, though.”
“Even if that were true, I’d still think you were pretty great to be around regardless. I don’t really care about what you’ve done. I really just care about you. That’s what I’m trying to say and getting absolutely sodding nowhere with.”
A few seconds of silence. “You...you really mean that?”
Martin didn’t sound like he believed it, not completely, but Tim was willing to take anything at this point. “Yeah. Of course I mean it. I wouldn’t lie about this sort of thing. Did you think I would?”
“No. Well, not--I just figured you’re being nice.”
“I am being nice. Just not for the reason you’re thinking.”
“You really don’t care?”
“About you, according to you, and only you, being totally useless to me? No, Martin, I don’t care.”
“Well, that’s...I mean, thanks.”
Martin was quiet. For a few moments, they were both quiet. Martin sighed and rolled over into the cot, hunching his shoulders. Tim sighed himself, figuring he’d done the best he could do at this point. Getting up, he made his way over to the door when Martin made a small sound. Tim stopped, and glanced over at him.
He could be very wrong about what Martin was asking for. He had a feeling, but then, he’d never been the best with certain social cues. Or at least, ones like this he didn’t have much of a script to go off of. He could only guess, and his only plan with guessing was confidence. And Martin wasn’t really overt when it came to asking for things like this, anyways.
It was hard, seeing Martin like this. Despite the height Martin had on Tim, he felt so much smaller like this. He seemed smaller a lot of the time, frankly, but this was something else. Like he was well and truly trying to shrink and hide.
Sliding into the cot with Martin was a bit of a tight fit, but Tim managed. He felt Martin’s shoulders relax against his chest, and Tim felt a gratifying twinge of relief. Rolling over, Martin pressed his face into Tim’s chest. A hug, the way Martin liked having them. Tim ran a hand through Martin’s hair--always a safe bet, with him.
Martin sighed. Tim froze, but kept his hand in Martin’s hair. He felt Martin’s hand slide up onto his, gently settling his fingers between Tim’s for a moment. Tim’s free hand found Martin’s, and he squeezed it, very gently, rubbing his thumb over Martin’s. Martin took a breath, slightly shuddering.
“Tim?”
“Martin?”
“...Thanks.”
“Any time.”
They were silent for a while. Tim wasn’t sure for how long, but it was freezing cold outside and he was quite the opposite of that with Martin pressed into his chest. Frankly, he didn’t care how much longer he ended up staying here.