Chapter Text
Some days Jon wakes up to Martin cold and motionless as if not even breathing.
He shakes him awake when it happens, never getting used to the sight of it. Martin wakes easily – he’s fine, physically, after all. His gaze is foggy and he shakes Jon’s hand off his shoulder, but it’s still better than the grim alternative.
“I’m sorry,” Martin says when he realises how he pushed Jon away.
“Don’t worry about it. Let’s get up, I’ll make breakfast.”
He makes Martin’s tea warm and sweet, the way he likes, to see the trace of a smile on his face when he takes the first sip. The cup will thaw his hands out and the rest of him will follow in its own time. It might take a while until he’s back to his usual self; until then, Jon will stay by his side, holding his hand when Martin lets him, and wait patiently for the fog in his mind to recede.
“Aren’t you tired of this?” Martin might ask him later, meaning aren’t you tired of me? , but Jon already knows what his answer will be if he does.
“Never,” he’ll reply softly. “Not when it’s you.”