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Jon was falling. A vast, dark pit of endless nothingness stretched out beneath him and he just kept sinking deeper into it. He had no control here; he couldn’t Know the way out and even if he could, he doubted it would help him much. He couldn’t see anything and the knowledge that he may never escape the everlasting nightmare terrified him to his core.
Abruptly, a hand emerged from the dark fog. A calloused hand with a few hole-shaped scars; a freckle near the thumb and a silver ring that was somehow always neatly polished. At that moment, Jon had never been more sure who that hand belonged to.
Martin.
“Martin,” Jon spoke, breathing a sigh of relief, “I- I thought I’d be trapped here forever- I- I thought you’d never come-”
Martin was speaking to him, he was sure of it. However, the quality was faint and echo-y, making it difficult to interpret anything that was being said. Though, he soon noticed a repetitive phrase.
“Grab my hand, Jon.”
Jon didn’t hesitate. He reached out, hope shining in his eyes as he clutched onto Martin’s wrist. He held on tight; the relieving feeling of no longer falling gripped him with such an intensity that he let out a breathy laugh.
His hope began to dim when his fingers slipped a little.
“M- Martin-” he spoke uselessly, trying desperately to hold on. He couldn’t fall again, he didn’t want to, he couldn’t-
His fingers continued to slip.
He lifted his other hand up, gripping urgently and crying out.
“Martin, please , don’t go-”
His first hand dropped and he let out a shout, staring down into the gaping hole and fear curling in his gut.
“Marti-”
He didn’t get a chance to finish as his hand, his last hope of escape, slid from Martin’s wrist and he plummeted. Down, down, down into the yawning pit which swallowed him eagerly.
---
Jon shot up, a gasp escaping him as he clutched the bedsheets. He tried to take in air but his lungs refused, causing him to choke on every breath. Hastily, he whipped his head to the side, letting out a faint sigh when he saw Martin.
A dream, then.
An awful, awful dream. The vast hadn’t visited him in a while.
Gulping, he tried desperately to calm his hands and his breathing and his everything but his body really wasn’t cooperating. His hands shook violently and he let out a small whine, gripping his hair in an attempt to stop the trembling.
He took huge, heaving breaths; he gripped his hair until his scalp ached and his fingers throbbed but he just couldn’t stop. He held back his sobs, knowing that breathing would be so much harder if he did something as pathetic as cry.
Trying to be quiet, he let himself whimper as the panic gripped him like a vice. He wanted Martin. He wanted Martin so badly it hurt. But it would be unfair, wouldn’t it? He looked so peaceful, finally getting some well-earned rest. He couldn’t wake him up because of some nightmare. He was fine.
He Knew that wasn’t true but elected to ignore it.
Jon snivelled and hiccupped pathetically, hands clutching ever tighter. His head really hurt and he couldn’t stop the muffled sob that escaped him. His fingers kept their firm residence in his hair, still shuddering awfully.
“Stop- Just, just stop, stop shaking so much, stop-”
He murmured quietly to himself, trying and straining to stop himself from shivering as fiercely. He was going to wake Martin up at this rate and he really wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he disturbed his sleep-
“Jon?”
Well, too late now apparently.
“Jon, oh my god, Jon- You’re going to hurt yourself, you need to stop holding on like that-”
Jon flinched from Martin’s hands, eyes terrified as he shuffled away. He didn’t mean to, he swore, he didn’t mean to wake him up, he didn’t want him to see him like this-
He only realised he was speaking aloud when Martin started reassuring him, saying he didn’t mind and he wasn’t mad and please , Jon, that has to hurt-
Jon let his hands fall from his head and felt his chest seize. He stared down at his hands, watching as they quivered and his breathing picking up.
“Th- They won’t stop, Martin, they just keep shaking and I- I don’t know- I don’t know-”
Martin nodded in understanding.
“I know, Jon, but it’s alright. I’m here now, okay? You see? Nothing can hurt you now, you’re not there.”
Jon never quite understood how Martin could always tell he’d had a nightmare but it was definitely a useful skill.
Martin attempted to reach for his hands but at the first touch Jon’s shaking picked up tenfold. His entire body seemed to be convulsing and he let out a pained sob, his eyes conveying nothing but alarm.
Martin retreated, instead carefully laying his hands on his shoulders. This seemed to calm the shake and Jon looked up at him with teary eyes.
He knew he must’ve looked pathetic, eyes wet with unshed tears and lip quivering as he struggled to breathe. But Martin didn’t seem to care. Martin never judged him or made him feel lesser or inadequate or anything of the sort.
Martin just gave him a calm smile and slowly talked him through one of his breathing exercises.
“That’s it, Jon, you’re doing so well. In for four, yes that’s right, hold for seven… out for eight. Well done, Jon, let’s try that again, okay?”
He held him from a distance, knowing that any more touch would just send him spiralling. He talked to him and comforted him and made sure he knew he was there; he wasn’t leaving.
When Jon’s hands stopped their violent shuddering and his breaths became even, Martin reached out again. Jon wasted no time in grasping onto Martin’s hands, staring down at where their fingers interlaced.
‘He’s here,’ he thought to himself, ‘He isn’t leaving.’
No sooner had he moved closer than Martin had him gathered up in his arms. After a few minutes of Martin just cradling Jon to his chest, he spoke.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
It was a simple request, one with no malice or pressure behind it. Just a question that Jon had no obligation to answer if he didn’t want to. And Jon knew this.
“Later?” he muttered into his chest, slightly ashamed at the croaky quality of his voice.
Martin just kissed the top of his head with a small smile.
“Later.”
---
Martin rubbed circles into Jon’s back, watching as his eyes slipped shut and he let himself slump into Martin’s chest. Martin shifted so that they were laying down, pulling Jon up against him.
Jon smiled into Martin’s shirt, looking up at him and mumbling a small ‘thank you’.
Martin smiled right back, kissing his forehead gently and replying with a ‘it’s okay, Jon’.
They fell asleep soon after but not before mumbling small ‘I love you’s against each other's lips, their hands clasped between them.