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There's a short length of stunned silence, where Ren's jaw works to form words that aren't coming.
"Please?" Martyn adds, before the empty air can drag on. It's exaggerated, puppy dog eyes edged with fluttering lashes. He's pouting, Ren thinks, though it's hard to tell without looking at Martyn's mouth. Maybe Martyn is grinning, in that way he does when he's laid the groundwork for an amazing bit, waiting in anticipation for the 'yes, and' that Ren is floundering to provide.
How is he supposed to answer a request to kiss Martyn live on camera as a goal reward?
When Ren laughs, it's an incredulous sound, high and wispy. The joke, if it had been one, falls flat enough to be audible as Ren pushes his chair back and stands, a bit too quick to be casual.
"On that note," Ren addresses the camera, hoping to curb their attention before whatever faux pas this was can stick and ruin the mood, "There is a tinkle to be had elsewhere. I shall return!"
And he's gone.
The corridors between the studio and the mens room are a blur of faces and colors. Somebody may have said his name, but Ren can't hear much past the thudding of his heart in his ears, not even the slam of the weighted door behind him. It's a mercy there's nobody at the vanity to see him, gripping the sink's edges when he perceives the shaking of his hands.
His forearm hurts. Just a little, underneath where his sleeve has a conspicuously grip-shaped ridge pulled into the fabric, and Ren looks at himself aghast as it clicks that Martyn had tried to stop him from leaving.
When he can will his fingers to uncurl from the vanity, Ren runs the cold tap. Clarity returns, shiver-induced as he splashes his face. There's no point in drying it, leaning forward to press his forehead to his reflection. He breathes, and a coil of panic eases slightly, making room for shame to curl in his chest.
"Well, we mucked this one up, didn't we," Ren says to himself, pulling back to thunk his forehead against the glass, "All we had to do was say yes."
"Was hoping for something a little more exuberant than just a yes, if I'm honest," A familiar voice quips, and Ren lifts his head just in time to see Martyn slip fully through the bathroom door. He pauses, then using more foresight than Ren could ever claim to have, turns around and flips the lock. Whatever else Martyn intends to say, he's going to say it uninterrupted.
They watch each other through the mirror's edge. Ren's heart squeezes, but Martyn doesn't look angry. If anything, he looks guilty, shifting his weight and biting his lip. Ren doesn't let his eyes linger on Martyn's mouth any longer than necessary.
"I bet, dude," Ren provides, a short chuckle puffing his chest, "It was a great setup! And I fumbled it so freaking hard."
"Y' gave the chat something fun to speculate about," Martyn's voice tilts up softly, like there's a positive to be drawn. Ren winces regardless; with how swift his exit was, he's sure Martyn heard more than his fair share of unwarranted opinions.
The thought doesn't sit well with him. "You can tell them," Ren offers with desperation. Through the mirror, Ren watches Martyn step closer. "Tell 'em it was a bit and I got cold feet, whatever you gotta tell 'em so they don't think..."
"Think I made you uncomfortable?" Martyn finishes, leaning with his hip against the vanity. Ren nods. "But I did, didn't I?"
No... yes? Ren sighs, rubbing his face, "It isn't like that."
It isn't, not truly. Martyn had been so open and enthusiastic about the idea when he'd first pitched it that Ren had been happy to go along with it. There were worse trades than exchanging a kiss for a charity's success. Ren was so sure he could hold his tongue for the greater good, until the moment was in front of him and the wrongness overwhelmed his sense of sacrifice.
"Running out on me was for the drama, then, was it?" Martyn jokes. His voice is playful in a way that makes Ren crack a smile behind his palms.
"I didn't want to run, dude, I promise you," Ren admits. He turns to face Martyn fully, and watches Martyn straighten off the vanity to match him. The eye contact is intense, but there's no better way to make sure Martyn knows he means it when he says- "It wasn't you. It was the viewers, you know?" Martyn hums. When he doesn't add anything, Ren continues, "A first kiss shouldn't be so public. It's special."
The silence that follows feels calculated. No proper scrutiny, nothing so dark in Martyn's eyes, but Ren knows something is being considered. Confusion, regret, relief, and fondness play in the mix of Martyn's expression, until understanding, and then acceptance color his cheeks a rosy pink.
Carefully, Martyn asks, "Then what should a first kiss be, Ren?"
Ren's next breath is deep, and shakes a bit on the way out. "Private," He starts, watching Martyn glance around the bathroom as if realizing for the first time that they may not have been alone in here. Once he's satisfied that they are, Martyn relaxes a bit more.
"Intimate," Ren adds. Martyn's hands lift, pausing just shy of Ren's skin. The question is in his eyes, and a small nod is all the permission he needs, cupping Ren's face. The touch is featherlight at first, unsure, and Ren tilts ever so slightly into Martyn's palms until he's encouraged to touch him properly. His fingers find a home in the scratch of Ren's stubble, the line of his jaw. His thumbs trace the apples of Ren's cheeks and the shell of Ren's ears.
It's getting harder to think. "Memorable," Ren mumbles, fuzzy with a yearning he hasn't felt in a long time. His head drops forward, forehead pressed against Martyn's. His hands find a place, gentle on Martyn's waist, and what he wants has never been so close.
"Ours?" Martyn offers, just shy of Ren's lips.
Ours, Ren thinks as the gap finally closes.