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Jon had worried about how others viewed him for as long as he could remember; first it had been his grandmother, then his classmates. When he became Head Archivist things only seemed to get worse, because now everyone had expectations for him that he wasn’t sure he could fulfill. He’d tried so hard for years to get people to like him, to be professional, to be what everyone wanted him to be.
And yet.
“You’re a danger, Jon. A monster. You’re hurting innocent people.”
“So did Daisy.” It wasn’t like Jon had become a trauma-consuming monster because he wanted to. If he’d known how people were going to treat him… Perhaps it would have been better to just die in that hospital bed.
“Shut up. It’s not the same thing at all.”
“Basira. He has a point.”
“You didn’t know what you were doing. And since you did, you’ve spent every waking hour resisting. He knows exactly what he’s doing.”
Why was he still listening to these people? This “intervention” seemed more like a way to make Jon feel worse about himself than he already did, which was harder than it looked. He’d gotten stabbed while getting the bullet out of Melanie’s leg, risked his life going into the coffin to save Daisy, and for what? Martin didn’t want to see him, Melanie had tried to kill him, and everyone else thought he was a monster.
If nothing I do will please them, why should I bother trying? Jon sighed, and glanced over the archival staff. Why should I hold myself back from becoming the monster everyone thinks I am? Jon rose to his feet and stretched. “Are we done here?”
Basira looked taken aback. “No, we are certainly not. You can’t keep hurting innocent people.”
“Why?” Jon was surprised to hear a chuckle escape his mouth. “It’s not like I’m killing anyone, all I’ve done is give people nightmares. Compared to most of the true statements we’ve read, I think what I’m doing is rather tame.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Would you prefer I just kill myself, Basira? I’m not sure what you want me to do. Written statements just aren’t cutting it anymore, no matter how many I read, I’m still hungry.”
“You can’t just take statements from people, Jon!” Basira’s voice was harsher than it had been in a while. “You have no idea what it’s like to relive one of the worst memories of your life every night!”
“You have no idea what it’s like to watch people be tormented by entities you can’t even begin to understand, to not be able to help them!” Now Jon was shouting, but he didn’t really care anymore. “I’ve tried to save them, but I can’t even move, I can only watch as they curse my name every single night!”
“Jon, I didn’t-” Basira tried to say, but Jon didn’t want to hear it.
“I’ve had enough. I’m not doing what anyone tells me to do, not anymore. For my entire life I’ve done what I’ve been told, and what has that gotten me? Nothing. So I’m going to do what I want from now on.” Jon strode to his office and retrieved his briefcase and jacket, when he returned to the main room of the Archives nobody had moved. “Does anyone have a problem with that?”
There was silence, which Jon was grateful for. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if they had tried to stop him from leaving. He paused in the doorway for a second, an interesting possibility occurring to him. “You’re all fired, by the way. I’ll fill out the paperwork tomorrow.”
Leaving a chorus of confusion behind him, Jon climbed the stairs from the basement to the rest of the Institute, his bad leg throbbing with pain at every other step. He would have to get a new cane, his old one had been destroyed in the Unknowing. Rosie looked up at him in surprise as he passed her desk, “oh, Mr. Sims. Don’t usually see you up here at this time of day.”
“I’m taking the rest of the day off, going to go flat-hunting.” Jon muttered, and left. There were so many possibilities occurring to Jon now that he was longer bound to what others wanted him to do. Who cared if some Entity wanted to end the world? He shouldn’t be burdened with the responsibility of dealing with them, not when he hadn’t signed up for it upon taking the Head Archivist position.
I’m not paid enough for that, Jon thought as he hailed a cab. He didn’t have a destination in mind besides “as far away from the Institute as possible.” If Elias wanted someone to stop every single potentially world-ending ritual that popped up he would just have to find some other sap. Jon was done. He had his own needs to worry about now, the first one being that he needed a new place to live. While Basira and Melanie had been fine living in the Archives, Jon now wanted to spend as little time there as possible.
The cab that stopped for him was driven by an older man with close-cropped black hair and a full beard, with his eyes hidden by mirrored sunglasses. Upon seeing him Jon could tell that the cabbie had previously encountered a member of the Lightless Flame. He grinned to himself as he climbed into the backseat. Perfect.
“So,” Jon buckled his seatbelt and looked at the cabbie, who glanced back at him in the rear view mirror. “Tell me your story.”
The good thing about having been in a coma for six months was that his paycheck kept being deposited into his account every week. Jon wasn’t entirely sure if it was because Elias had been arrested and hadn’t been able to submit paperwork to stop it, that Peter hadn’t known how to, or they both just hadn’t cared. Regardless, he now possessed both a sizable amount of money and zero fucks.
Jon was able to place a deposit on a new flat, which had a reasonable commute to the Institute. London real estate was still absurdly expensive even with how much was in his account now. He was also still bitter about losing his previous flat, it turned out that landlords weren’t very understanding about their tenants not being able to pay rent due to being in a coma. The flat had come pre-furnished, which was nice because it meant less stuff to buy. He hated shopping, and after he’d had to get new clothes- he lost all of his old ones with the flat- he was quite done with shopping for the near future.
Now that he had a place to stay Jon needed to figure out what to do next. There was the usual “work, eat, sleep” that had made up so much of his life, although “eat” would have to be split between statements and human food. He was still figuring out how much of each he needed to eat in order to feel full, especially since he’d just made the decision he could take live statements.
There was some small part of him that felt bad about what he was doing to his… his victims. Jon was forcing them to relive horrible experiences, not only when he took their statement but in their dreams. Then again, if this was going to be his new way of life for the foreseeable future… he supposed he might as well make the most of it.
The world was full of corrupt, horrible humans- the kind of humans that weren’t involved in anything supernatural but made life harder for so many people. If Jon could take the statements of people like that well, what was the problem with that? It wasn’t like he would kill them, after all.
The following day Jon allowed himself to sleep in for once. It felt strange to wake up well-rested, but he’d had a very good meal the previous night and it showed. Looking in the mirror Jon saw the bags under his eyes were less noticeable, but also he really needed a shower. Since he couldn’t be fired and he was already late he decided that taking a few extra minutes to freshen up couldn’t hurt. He also ate a granola bar and an apple before leaving, which wasn’t the best breakfast, but given that he never used to eat before going to work, it was a good thing.
Small steps. Baby steps. It was going to take effort to correct his bad habits, but the end result would be worth it. Jon had years- decades really- of behaviors that needed fixing— a lifetime spent catering to others that had left him not knowing just how to put himself first. It would be an experiment of sorts, and he was good at research.
Rosie wasn’t at her desk when Jon arrived at the Institute, which was nice. She was too nosy for her own good and Jon didn’t feel like talking to her or explaining why he was late. The Archives, however, were not empty. Melanie, Basira, and Daisy were crowded around one of the desks and stared at him when he entered. “I thought I fired you all.”
“You’re not our boss, Sims. It doesn’t count coming from you.” Basira huffed.
“I am your boss, actually. Head Archivist and all that, remember?” Jon walked over to his office door but hesitated before going in. “Besides, if I didn’t have the power to fire you I wouldn’t have been able to say I was firing you. I can write up a notice if you want.”
“On what grounds are you firing us?” Melanie lifted an eyebrow.
“For you, Ms. King, it’s attacking your boss. Immediate termination is required for such a case, my hands are tied there.” Jon leaned up against the door, sensing he would be here for a while. “Insubordination for you, Ms. Hussain, and Ms. Tonner doesn’t actually work here, the employment contract she signed was not legally binding.”
There was silence for a few seconds, so Jon added “I thought you all would be happy to be rid of this place, Melanie especially.”
“You’re a real prick, you know that?” Melanie snarled.
“I’ll take that to mean ‘thank you,’ and you’re welcome. Best of luck with your future endeavors.”
“What if something comes after us?” Basira still sounded annoyed. “Just because you’re a monster doesn’t mean other ones will leave us alone, they know we’re connected to you.”
Jon tilted his head to the side in confusion. “We’re not friends, you’re no longer my subordinates, I don’t see what you have to do with me at all.” He shrugged, enjoying how the tension left his shoulders. “If some Avatar has a problem with me, they should deal with me directly rather than involving people who hate me.”
“We don’t hate you, Jon.” Daisy spoke for the first time, her voice quiet. “It’s just-”
“You just don’t trust me.” It was not a question. “I’d rather not have my employees openly hostile towards me. Doesn’t make for a healthy work environment.” With that Jon opened his office door and stepped inside. He had work to do.
A month into Jon’s new “self-care” experiment- he really wasn’t sure what to call it, an exploration maybe- he noticed actual results. His pants would no longer button, and his dress shirts were uncomfortably tight. Upon looking into the mirror Jon saw why this was; it was hard to miss. It seemed like making sure he ate, took regular statements, and got enough sleep was a good thing. Who knew?
When he’d woken up from the coma, Jon’s stomach had been concave, and all of his ribs had been on display. Now there was a healthy layer of what his grandmother would have called “meat on his bones.” It was no wonder his clothes hadn’t fit; they’d been purchased for an extremely underweight man, a man he no longer was. The Jon in the mirror had cheeks that weren’t hollow, no bags under his eyes, and even his scars had faded slightly. He looked good, better than he had in a long time.
There was a strange urge to keep going, try the haircare routine Georgie had attempted to give to Jon in uni, buy some makeup and cover the rest of the scars on his face, keep his beard trimmed and neat. He needed new clothes, the ones he had clearly didn’t fit anymore, but while he’d never been particularly adventurous with his previous wardrobe there was nothing holding him back now. He’d always wanted to try skirts out, and this was the perfect time to do so.
He started small, while he’d resolved to put himself first, Jon was still having trouble not worrying about what people thought of him. He got concealer to hide his scars and a clear coat of nail polish, although he had the intention of getting some colors once he gained confidence. Face and hair masks were something he hadn’t used in a long time and he had to fight down the nausea associated with rubbing something on his skin, but the results were worth it. He bought new clothes that actually fit him and looked good on him, a new cane that felt good in his hand, rings and earrings- he learned about ace rings and knew he needed to get one despite the burns on his right hand. Maybe he’d try getting a tattoo next; he’d always thought Tim’s had looked nice.
With each change, Jon felt better about himself. He no longer hated the man he saw in the mirror, despite the fact he was clearly not human. His sclera had turned black after looking at the dark sun, and his irises had slowly changed from brown to green since becoming the Archivist. He decided to accent them with eyeliner, because if people were going to stare he might as well look good. His teeth were all slightly sharper, especially his canines (something he shared with Daisy), so he smiled more often. He had chosen to embrace the monster— why should he hide what he was?
There was one thing he’d been putting off doing for a while, since making the decision to put himself first. Jon had written it at the top of his to-do list, but he’d never had the courage to actually pursue it. Until now that was. He wasn’t sure what had changed inside him, but the thought no longer scared him. He was actually excited.
Jon was going to ask Martin on a date.
When the tape recorder clicked on next to Martin, he couldn’t help but jump. He’d gotten so used to the quiet that any small noise seemed much louder than it actually was. He shot it a look before going back to typing up the response to an email Peter had gotten. Martin didn’t know if Peter even knew how to properly use emails.
“Oh. Hi. Hello again.” He wasn’t entirely sure why he bothered to talk to the recorders, but they felt alive to him for some reason. He chuckled; it wasn’t exactly like anything interesting was happening for it to overhear. “Sorry pal, false alarm this time.” A thought occurred to him and Martin sighed. “Unless-Peter… Look, Peter, I-”
The door opened before he could finish the sentence, and he had to do a double-take. Jon had walked in, but… while the man before him was definitely Jon, it was not a Jon that Martin had ever seen before. It was such a drastic change that for a split second he wondered if the thing that had gotten Sasha had also taken Jon, and it was a Stranger that now stood before him.
When they’d first met, Martin had thought that Jon was overworked from the dark circles under his eyes and his thin frame. As time went on he’d only looked more unhealthy, his clothing started to hang off him and his hair became more streaked with grey. The hospital had been the worst, though. Seeing Jon laying on the sterile bed, an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth despite the fact he was not breathing… he had looked like a corpse, and Martin had hated it.
Now, however? The Jon that stood before him looked healthy and radiant, leaning on a polished wooden cane. He’d gained weight, his cheeks were fuller, and his wrists no longer looked like they would break at any second. He was dressed in a white dress shirt and red vest that must have been professionally tailored because it fit him perfectly, emphasizing the curve of his waist in a way that made Martin mildly uncomfortable.
Part of his long hair had been pulled into a low bun, while the rest hung loose around his shoulders in silver and black waves. His eyes were also different, and not just because of the eyeliner—his sclera had turned black, and his irises were now a bright, vivid green that almost seemed to glow. His short beard was neatly trimmed, and Martin could make out something on his neck, although he couldn’t see exactly what it was. Another scar?
“Good to see you again, Martin.” Jon’s voice sounded strong and confident, the opposite of how it had been when they’d last spoken. “How have you been?”
Martin struggled to find words for a few seconds, he was so taken aback by Jon’s new look. “Fine, I’ve been fine.” Then he remembered that he wasn’t really supposed to be talking to anyone, especially Jon. “Why are you here, Jon?”
“I was wondering if you were busy tomorrow night.” Jon seemed to be examining his fingernails, which Martin now noticed had been painted black. “Or is Peter controlling your personal life as well as your work?”
What? What was Jon talking about? What had happened to him to cause such a drastic change? “Funny, you talking to me about work/life balance.”
“It would seem our roles have reversed a bit.” Jon glanced up at Martin, his gaze so intense it sent a jolt down Martin’s spine. “Thank you for the intervention by the way. It really opened my eyes to why I should stop caring so much about the people who hate me.”
“Jon, that was not-” Martin started to say, but was cut off.
“Not the point, I know. Still, it was very enlightening. Freeing.” The smile that Jon gave Martin was slightly unsettling, his canines were longer than they had been. “I’ve decided to put myself first, for a change. Stop setting myself on fire to keep others warm. If people are going to treat me like a monster, then I’ll become a monster.”
“You’re hurting people, Jon.”
“So? We raise animals just to butcher them for our food, how is what I’m doing worse than that?” Jon shook his head, a lock of hair coming loose from his bun and falling across his forehead. “That’s not why I’m here though, you haven’t answered my question.”
“What question was that?” Martin couldn’t think straight. He was too confused by Jon appearing before him looking more attractive than he’d ever been in his life.
“Are you free tomorrow night?”
“Wait, you were serious about that?” Martin blinked a few times, wondering if the person before him was actually Jon. Maybe this was some monster that preyed on his darkest desires- an absurdly handsome version who wanted to go on a date with him. Was it even a date Jon was after? God, he didn’t know how to react. Months of isolation, of not talking to anyone for days, had his brain not working correctly.
“You thought I was joking? You wound me, Martin.” Jon placed his free hand over his heart as though it pained him. “Can I have an answer, please? Are you free, or not? ”
“I’m free.” The words were pulled out of Martin against his will and he couldn’t help glaring at Jon, who smirked- actually smirked- at his distress. “Don’t do that!”
“You avoided answering me twice, Martin.” Jon’s voice now had an amused tone. “What was I supposed to do?”
The worst thing about his situation was that Martin didn’t hate it. It wasn’t as though he didn’t like that Jon was now explicitly saying what he wanted, or that he seemed to be taking care of himself. He wasn’t even mad about the compulsion, Jon had been right, he had dodged answering the question on purpose. The thing that bothered him was that Martin knew he wasn’t supposed to find it extremely fucking attractive, and he did. After a few seconds of silence he found his voice. “What did you have planned?”
Jon’s eyes lit up at that, actually lit up. “I thought I could make us dinner.”
“You wouldn’t want to go out to eat?” Martin had expected Jon would want to look for potential victims or something.
“I figured you wouldn’t want to be around many people, what with how isolated you’ve been. I know it’s a bit forward to invite you to my flat, but at least it would be just the two of us.” Oh . Martin was taken aback by how thoughtful this plan was. Jon hadn’t just asked Martin on a generic date or something that he wanted to do, he’d considered what Martin would prefer. When was the last time that had happened?
“Right.” It was a struggle to make his voice even. “Sounds good, I guess. Well, it depends on what you’re making.”
“No bell peppers, I promise.” The smile Jon gave this time was warm, affectionate. “I remember you’re allergic to them.”
It seemed like so long ago that Martin had disclosed that information. They’d started going out to lunch together after Jane Prentiss attacked the Archives, and when trying out a new restaurant he’d been annoyed that what he’d ordered hadn’t listed peppers as an ingredient on the menu. Jon had laughed and traded with him, and Martin had felt his heart flutter at the gesture. He hadn’t expected Jon to remember that day the way he had.
“I’ll wait for you after work tomorrow, we can go to my flat together.” Martin managed to nod, and Jon turned on his heels and left, a new spring in his step.
Once the door had closed behind Jon, Martin noticed the tape recorder was still running. “Seriously?” He exclaimed, before folding his arms atop his desk and resting his head on them. He sighed deeply. He was well and truly fucked.
Jon couldn’t help bouncing on the balls of his feet as he waited for Martin to meet him at the entrance. They were going on a date! A real date! He was going to cook an excellent dinner for the two of them, open a bottle of wine, and he’d even gotten candles for tonight. There was a small part of him that was scared that Martin wasn’t interested in him any longer, but he desperately tried to ignore it. Everything would be fine.
After what felt like an eternity Martin finally arrived, and if Jon wasn’t mistaken he’d dressed up for the occasion. He wore a blue dress shirt underneath a charcoal jumper, and his ginger curls seemed to have some kind of product in them. He looked amazing, and Jon couldn’t hold back the grin that split his face. “Hello, Martin, ready to go?”
Martin looked Jon up and down a few times, making Jon question how good his own outfit for tonight looked. Was it really as good as he’d thought? He had chosen a light grey shirt and black pants, over which he had a dark blue jacket with silver buttons, along with some dangling earrings and a few rings. Black eyeliner had been carefully applied, along with a hint of gloss on his lips in addition to the concealer he wore to hide his scars. He’d pulled part of his hair back into a braided updo while the rest hung loose, held in place by a fancy hair clip he hadn’t been able to resist buying. Jon had thought he looked nice, but maybe it was too much? Was he coming on too strong?
“You look nice.” Martin stammered, failing to meet Jon’s gaze.
“Oh, thank you!” Jon tried and failed to keep his voice casual. “You look great as well, is that a new jumper?”
“Yeah, I got it a few months ago. My new salary afforded me the opportunity to get some nicer clothes.” They started walking, Jon leading the way.
“I’ve had a similar experience, and to be honest I hadn’t realized that clothes shopping could be fun. I suppose it just takes a different mindset than I used to have.” Jon chuckled softly and saw that Martin was staring at him again.
“Did I hear that correctly? Jonathan Sims actually enjoyed shopping for clothes?”
“You don’t have to tell the whole world, Martin. I do enjoy some privacy.”
“Jon, is that...” Martin was now examining Jon’s neck, brows furrowed. “Did you get a tattoo?”
“Oh, right. Yes, I have several now.” They’d become a normal part of Jon’s life that he no longer really noticed them. “I got them to cover my scars, the ones I could cover at least.”
“Are those daisies on your neck?”
Lifting a hand to where the scar still rested under the ink Jon nodded. “It felt symbolic, you know? Daisy was the one to give me this, and while I don’t forgive her for what she did, I feel like I understand her more now.”
“You said you have more?” There was a strange light in Martin’s eyes.
“Yes, although they kind of blend together into one picture. Different flowers to represent different people who have impacted my life.” Looking pointedly at Martin, Jon added “I can show you later, I’m not taking my shirt off in public.”
Martin sputtered a bit at that, and Jon couldn’t help but smile. They made pleasant conversation on the way to his flat, talking about whatever crossed their minds and trying to catch up on what they’d missed in each other’s lives. “You really fired Basira and the others?” Martin’s brows were knit in concern.
“Yup, it was the first thing I did after your failed intervention.” Another sputtering noise. “I realized I had the power to release them from the Institute’s power, and so I did.”
“Do you know what any of them are up to now?”
“Melanie moved in with Georgie, I think they’re dating. The two of them have started to work on What the Ghost together, and they seem to be doing a good job.” They arrived at Jon’s building and he held open the door for Martin. “Daisy invited me out for drinks a couple of weeks ago but she didn’t give me an update on much of what’s going on in her life. She seems to be struggling now that she’s rejected the Hunt. I think Basira is taking care of her, mostly.”
“What will happen to her?” Martin’s voice was gentle.
“She won’t last for much longer. Either she relapses and the Hunt takes her over, or it bleeds her dry.” It was an uncomfortable truth, one Jon didn’t like to think about. Daisy’s decision had been the opposite of Jon’s, and while it wasn’t the Slaughter, well… the Hunt would not make her death painless. He decided to focus on climbing the stairs instead of dwelling on it. “Jude Perry told me that I have to ‘feed my god or it will feed on me.’ That’s why I started taking live statements, Martin. I was only prolonging my death by sticking to paper ones.”
“It really would have killed you? Just because you weren’t getting your statements directly from people?” The expression on Martin’s face was… he looked almost guilty.
“I would have eventually starved, yes. The physical effects were not fun, like having the flu, but worse.” By some stroke of luck, they had made it to Jon’s flat, and he unlocked the door quickly before holding it open for Martin. “After you.”
Jon’s new flat was reminiscent of his old one, although that was partially due to the housing market not thinking that humans needed more than a shoebox to live in. The furniture had been purchased mostly from charity shops, although he had made an effort to get things he actually liked the look of compared to what fit his budget. The old-fashioned wooden bookshelf was full of a collection of novels, biographies, and nonfiction books that he was slowly working his way through, and a stack of documentaries next to the TV. He didn’t have enough things for it to be cluttered, not yet anyway, but he liked knickknacks. Maybe he’d take a trip back to Bournemouth and get some seashells.
Martin’s eyes roved over the mismatched furniture and dishes, but thankfully he didn’t seem put off by what he saw. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” Jon managed to get out, taking his jacket off and hanging it up on the coat rack. “I’m going to get started on dinner.”
“What are you making?”
“Chicken biryani, if that’s ok with you.” Jon thought he remembered Martin was fairly open to trying new things, but he’d bought ingredients for another dish he could make instead if needed. He’d had the chicken marinating in the fridge all day, grinding the spices, combining them in yogurt, and coating the chicken thoroughly before leaving for work.
“Can I help with anything?” Martin looked anxious, and Jon gave him a small smile that he hoped was reassuring.
“The rice needs to be washed before I can start cooking it, would you mind doing that? I’m going to start cutting the onions.” The next hour or so was spent working together, occasionally trying to hunt down a pan or tool that Jon couldn’t remember the location of. He’d forgotten how much fun it was to cook with someone, as opposed to just by himself.
“Where did you get the recipe?” Martin asked, checking on the chicken.
“Oh, it’s my grandmother’s, I used to help her cook while growing up.” The memory made Jon chuckle. “I say ‘help,’ but she used to say if I didn’t cook, I didn’t eat.”
“Sounds about right.”
“I never really appreciated it until I got to uni and realized just how many people my age couldn’t even boil water.” The rice was done, and Jon took it off the heat and drained the leftover water. “I might not have been able to afford anything fancy but at least I wasn’t living off of cup noodles.”
“Hey, cup noodles are good!” Martin exclaimed, although he didn’t actually seem to be offended.
“I never said they weren’t, Martin, I was just saying I knew how to cook a vegetable without turning it to mush.” Jon picked up one of the grains of rice that had fallen out of the pot and flicked it at Martin.
“Really? We’ve resorted to throwing food already?” Judging from Martin’s smile he was having as much fun as Jon was.
They finished meal preparations without any further incidents and sat down at Jon’s tiny dining table. They were so close together their knees were almost touching. “Is that all you’re going to have?” Martin asked, looking at the small portion on Jon’s plate.
“Oh, I ate a big meal earlier.” Jon tried to smile but it felt forced. He’d run into someone who’d fallen into a sinkhole and just kept falling for days, their statement had been quite filling.
“Jon…” Martin frowned, brows knitted together.
“Can we not discuss my eating habits tonight, please? We made a lovely dinner, and I bought some nice wine, and maybe we can watch a movie or something after we finish dinner.” Part of him wondered if the evening was even salvageable. Maybe Martin would just get up and leave, too disgusted by Jon to stay any longer.
“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’m trying…” Martin sighed and blew on a spoonful of chicken and rice. “I need to change how I look at things. The woman who came in to file a complaint, she just seemed so upset and while I can’t blame your victims for not liking what you do to them, well… I don’t want you to die either.”
“I…” Jon started to say, but stopped. He did enjoy it, taking people’s statements, drinking in their terror as they relived one of the worst moments of their lives. The part of him that was still human knew he shouldn’t feel that way, but it didn’t change things. “I’m sorry, Martin.”
“No, you’re right. We shouldn’t discuss this over dinner.” Martin shook his head, as though trying to clear the thought out of it. “What movies do you have?”
Thankfully the rest of the meal went smoothly, they discussed what books they’d read recently, although it seemed like neither of them had much time for reading lately. Jon packed the rest of the food into containers while Martin washed the dishes- in Jon’s defense he’d told Martin that he would take care of it and been shot down. Then they sat down on the couch to watch some drama they’d both heard was good.
At some point during the movie Jon felt Martin’s eyes on him. He was used to the sensation, something he assumed was due to the Beholding’s influence. “May I ask why you’re staring at me?” Immediately Martin flushed and returned his attention to the TV. “I don’t mind, I just wanted to know why.”
“I was looking at your tattoo, the daisy one.” Martin mumbled, and Jon saw that the tips of his ears had turned pink.
“Oh, did you want to see the rest?” Jon reached for the buttons of his shirt- he’d taken off his tie part way through cooking- but stopped and waited for an answer.
After about ten seconds Martin nodded, so Jon undid the buttons and pulled the shirt off his left arm, exposing the ink on it. “I told you that the different flowers represent different people, right?”
“Yeah, but you’ll probably have to explain them to me. I haven’t exactly been given many flowers before.” Martin’s fingers hovered over Jon’s shoulder and he made a mental note to get flowers for Martin.
“This is a zinnia,” Jon pointed to his shoulder, which had a large yellow flower with many petals on it. “Apparently the Victorian meaning is ‘thoughts of an absent friend,’ so I thought it would be appropriate.”
“Is that for Sasha?”
“Yeah, it’s fitting.” Jon pointed to the purple flower with many small blossoms in a cylindrical shape. “That’s a hyacinth, there are different meanings depending on what color they are, but purple ones mean asking for forgiveness.”
“Who’s that one for?” Martin’s eyes were wide.
“Tim. I know he died hating me, and I wish…” he sucked in a breath. “I wish I’d been better to all of you.”
“Jon...”
“I know, I know, there’s no use dwelling on the past.” Jon sighed. “It’s a good reminder though.”
There was an awkward pause before Martin pointed to Jon’s chest, where small blue flowers had been inked. “Who’s that one for?”
“Oh…” Jon pressed his hand to the tattoo, feeling his cheeks grow warm. “That one’s for you, actually.”
“What?”
“They’re… they’re forget-me-nots, the flowers I mean. I heard they symbolize a promise to never forget the one you love.” Jon spoke, his voice no more than a whisper as he caressed the inked petals. “With you working with Peter and the Lonely and everything I just… it was a promise to myself that no matter how lost you got, I’d never forget you.”
“Jon…” Martin’s own voice was soft, and his eyes were damp as he stared at the tattoo. “You love me?”
“Yes. I think I’ve loved you for a long time, Martin.”
With trembling fingers Martin reached out to touch the flowers on Jon’s skin, gentle as a feather. “Is this okay?”
“More than okay.” Jon replied. Martin’s fingers traced the lines of the forget-me-nots then worked his way over to the hyacinth, then up Jon’s arms until he was touching the daisies.
“Jon?” Martin’s voice was hesitant.
“Yes?”
“Can I kiss you?”
Instead of answering Jon leaned forward and kissed him. It wasn’t a deep kiss, not much more than a peck on the lips, but fireworks still went off in his head. Martin’s lips were warm and soft, tasting of spices from their dinner. He placed a hand at the base of Jon’s head, burying it in his hair and pulling him closer. It felt so natural to kiss Martin, like it was the right thing to do.
After they broke apart Martin stared at him, pupils slightly dilated. “That was… wow.”
“That was nice.”
“That was amazing, Jon. This whole night has been amazing, thank you.”
Jon felt himself flush. “I… really? I was worried you wouldn’t like that I’ve changed a bit… I mean, I’m not human anymore and-” he started playing with his hair, twisting it around his fingers.
“Okay, stop. I’m just going to stop you right there.” Martin put a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “Yes, you have changed. Yes, you aren’t human anymore. You’re still Jon, though, and from what I can see most of the changes you’ve made have been for the better.”
“Really?”
“Jon, do you even own a mirror? You’ve never looked better in your life, and I’m here for it. You say you’ve become a monster, but all I can see is someone who’s learned to take care of themself for the first time.” Jon tried to interrupt but Martin held up a hand. “Are you eating people's brains? Yeah, kind of, but I think I can learn to live with that.”
There was a strange sensation in Jon’s head. Then, out of nowhere, he Knew something that caused him to stare at Martin incredulously. “You think the fact I’m a monster is hot ?”
Martin sputtered, which looked absolutely adorable. “Don’t just Know things about me like that, Jon!”
“Couldn’t help it, Beholding wanted me to know.” Jon leaned forward, grinning so that his pointed teeth were on full display. “Do you find me attractive like this, Martin?”
“I’m not discussing this.” Martin responded, his head in his hands.
“Come on, I was terrified you’d be scared of how I look now. I’m quite pleased to hear it’s the opposite.” Martin said nothing, so Jon continued speaking. “Would it help you to hear I find you attractive? Because I do.”
“Jon, please let me die from embarrassment in peace.”
“Why should you be embarrassed? Isn’t it better to get these things out in the open?”
“It’s just…” Martin sighed and lowered his hands, his face bright red. “I feel like I should be ashamed of it, you know? I’ve been… conditioned to think that finding monsters sexy is wrong.”
“You think I’m sexy?” Jon’s face hurt from how big his smile was.
“I’m just digging myself into a deeper hole, aren’t I?”
“No, you’re good. Please go on.”
Martin sighed and gave Jon an exasperated look. “It’s not like I find all monsters hot, alright? It’s like… I already found you good-looking, and now that you’re full of confidence and taking care of yourself, I’m more attracted to you. The eyes and teeth and other stuff are part of it, but I think you’ve finally learned to value yourself, and that’s really fucking hot.”
Jon was speechless for a few seconds, why did Martin have to be so good? “Thank you,” he managed, coughing to clear the blockage in his throat. “It’s been an interesting journey to get here, but I’m finally starting to like myself as well.”
Martin pulled Jon into a hug. “Good, I’m glad.”
They stayed like that for a few minutes, Jon with his face buried in the crook of Martin’s neck and Martin with his chin pressed to the top of Jon’s head. “I love you.” Jon managed to get out. “I may be a monster, but I still love you.”
“I love you too, monster or no.”
“Hey Martin?” Jon figured it was best to get the question out now.
“Yeah?”
“Will you go on another date with me?”
Martin pulled back just enough so they could see eye to eye. “I’d like that very much.”