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Martin had thought they were free. Sure, the Eye was still a part of Jon and caused him to do things the average person wouldn't, but he wasn't its main food source anymore and for the most part, the two of them lived in relative peace. Sometimes he'd pull out a tape recorder and ask for statements from Martin, just for the experience of knowing. Thankfully, any statement seemed to do, so the subject matter was never distressing. One time Martin had simply talked about an ally cat he'd seen on the way back from the store. After an hour of Martin gushing and cooing over the random cat, Jon had turned off the tape and promptly fallen asleep, smiling contentedly as if he'd just had one of the best meals of his life. Another time he'd spent an hour at the library searching for newspaper articles before finding one that sated him and happily narrating it.
It was odd, but odd was alright. All that mattered was that they were together, unafraid, and harmless.
The night it changed, Martin was awoken by retching from the kitchen. He immediately sat up, his eyes squinting into the darkness of their room before focusing on the empty spot beside him. After noticing Jon's absence, Martin lifted himself from the bed and started toward the dimly lit hallway, the floorboards creaking ominously below him as if to warn him of what came next. When another retch came from the kitchen, Martin's walk turned to a jog. He burst from the hallway a moment later to find Jon sitting on one of their marbled counters, a small bucket resting in his lap. The bright lighting of the kitchen highlighted his sickly appearance. Martin didn't panic at the sight, not at first. Jon had gotten sick a few times since they'd settled down and he always looked awful for the first few days.
The terror only settled in when Jon's wide and unnaturally green eyes shifted to focus on Martin, and a powerful urge to run washed over him.
"I'm hungry," Jon whispered. Somehow, Martin immediately understood, and his heart sank as the illusion of freedom he'd held and nourished for months began to crack. Jon slid off the counter, his hands still clasping the bucket. Then, with small unsteady steps, he approached Martin. "I think...I think I need a bath. I feel cold." Jon said. "Don't get to close. I think I'm coming down with something."
"Jon...Jon, what can I do to help?"
"Probably just a cold," Jon continued, ignoring Martin's offer. "Bad one. Feels like my stomach's eating itself. I'm so fucking hungry" Jon walked past him and started down the hallway, leaving Martin to stand silently on his own, still processing what had just happened. Eventually, he gave up on understanding and took a seat at the kitchen table. When Jon didn't leave the bathroom after an hour, Martin moved there and ended up passing out with his back against the door.
The next morning Martin was awoken by pained and hungry groaning from the bathroom and knew then that whatever semblance of peace they'd been given had just been stripped away.
Over the next few days, Jon began to deteriorate. He stopped eating, started sleeping more, and began whispering stories to himself. Martin tried to fix it, he really did, but none of the usual strategies were working. On the third day of Jon's hunger, Martin tried something new and went to a forum about supernatural encounters. He let Jon sift through them until he found something real enough to eat. He read it allowed, and while his tremors stopped that hungry look in his eyes didn't. The tremors and murmurs came back the next day, and Martin watched helplessly from the sidelines, unsure of what he should do.
Two more days passed and Jon started talking about the Eye itself. "It misses me. It misses the statements, it misses the routine. it wants me back...just for a moment. A second. That's all the time it would take" Martin didn't let Jon leave the house after that and put him to bed with a bowl of soup and a cup of tea. Both remained untouched as Jon lay there, his hands clenching and unclenching as the Eye's hunger grew within him. It felt like Martin was living with a recovering drug addict, except in their case he wasn't sure if the withdrawal would ever go away. There was a horrible hunger within Jon that would continue to worsen until he pulled some poor soul off the street and devoured their worst memories.
The selfish part of Martin wanted to just let him do it so he could have the old Jon back, but he'd promised himself not to fall into the 'them against us' attitude that he'd held onto for years. Besides, he didn't want Jon to have to live with the inevitable guilt he'd feel after.
After seven days of hunger, Jon started watching Martin as he slept. He'd stand at the foot of the bed, his eyes peering through tangled hair to gaze at Martin. "Please... come back to bed." Martin would beg and Jon would reluctantly oblige, slotting himself next to Martin but never sleeping as he lay there. Martin would turn around and hold Jon, whispering about whatever came to mind and reciting bits of old statements that he remembered. Jon would contentedly hum, but Martin knew he was still craving something fresh.
They were nine days in when Martin walked out of the bedroom to see Jon standing at the end of the hallway, a desperate and inhuman expression etched across his face as he stared at the wall to Martin's left, unable to meet his eyes. Martin paused, then frowned deeply, already knowing what Jon was thinking. "You wouldn't dare."
Jons stayed silent and for a moment Martin felt hope that he was still fighting it. Then he swallowed and his green eyes drifted up to meet Martins. There was so much pain, but so little fear. Jon took a step closer and held out a trembling hand to him. "Martin...it hurts." His veins stood out against papery skin, and the tips of his nails were bloody and torn from clawing. The sight of his injuries and illness made Martin want to run, just so he could pretend everything was still alright.
"I'm sorry Jon, I want to help but..." He trailed off. He couldn't let this go on any longer, not while Jon was suffering as much as he was. It was time for a decision to be made. Martin began to cry, tears silently slipping down his cheeks. "Oh god, Jon."
"I'm so hungry. I need something I need a statement a... live statement and -" Martin groaned and sat down against the wall, whimpering as Jon rapidly approached until he was standing over Martin. The temperature dropped and a chill ran down Martin's spine as he curled up on himself. "Martin...can I ask you a question?" Jon asked.
Martin hid his face in his hands as Jon crouched and grabbed his arm. His fingers were cold and sharp as he tugged. "Can I ask you a question? Just one question. Please?"
Martin's cries grew louder as desperation swallowed him whole. Jon's hands gripped his sweater, and he pulled himself forward until he was rested on Martin's lap. Martin held him tightly, hoping that it would make him stop. Jon pressed his quivering lips against Martin's neck, then pulled away to whisper. "Can I ask you a question? I'm sorry, I'm sorry but...but I need to know. I need to know. Please." Martin could feel Jon's tears on his neck.
"Jon.." Martin whispered. Jon pulled away from his neck so the two of them could stare at each other. "Jon I forgive you." No reaction. Martin sniffled. "Just... I know you can't help it, and I forgive you, and...and I know you tried." He reached up to cup Jon's face. "Ask me the question, Jon.":
"Martin...why were you afraid of your mother?"
The room was silent except for the clinks of forks and knives as they ate. Martin moved slowly, tear tracks still drying on his face, while Jon shoveled the food into his mouth, desperate to get out of the room. He'd wanted to skip dinner altogether, but Maritn had urged him to come.
When Jon finished his meal, he stared ahead for a moment before hugging himself.
"I'm so sorry about what-"
"It's alright."
Jon teared up slightly as he leaned across the table, taking one of Martin's hands in his own. "No, it's not alright. I hurt you. I used you and I-"
"It's okay. I wanted you to feel better." Martin smiled weakly. "I'm not angry at you Jon. I said you could do it and I forgave you"
"But...but you shouldn't have had to. God Martin, i can't just treat you like that. I hurt you and-"
"Eight months. That was how long without you needing something like this. Maybe...maybe we can go even longer next time. That story online seemed to work, maybe if we do that more often we can avoid this happening again." Jon shook his head, but Martin was already standing to walk over to him. As soon as he was close Jon hugged him, holding Martin tightly. Martin sniffled and rested his chin atop Jon's head. "Look. This sucks, for both of us. But it's still better, and...and it was worth it to have you back. It hurt, but it was worth it."
"I love you so much," Jon whispered.
"I love you too," Martin said back
That night Martin found himself in a memory that usually brought him to tears. But with Jon there to hold him and block out the sounds, he found himself at peace.