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It feels like a noose. Always has. Vaguely, Ren wonders if he hung himself in a past life. If maybe it just all got to be too much one day and thus started the next life. But then the thought floats away and onto the next.
He's had this scar as long as he can remember. A jagged, ugly patch of skin that spirals around his neck. It doesn't hurt, and he doesn't remember how he got it - he's old, somewhat, he knows, and his memory is fading. Not that he remembered before that.
He almost got it tattooed a few years ago, but Martyn begged him not to. "C'mon, Ren, it's sexy." He had pleaded. Cocking an eyebrow, Ren had glanced back at him. "A scar that looks like I was executed is sexy? Nice try, babe, but not working." Martyn had pouted, and, 30 minutes later, Ren had promised not to tattoo it. Maybe some people would be ashamed they always gave in to their partner, but Ren is not "some people." He would burn the world for Martyn, and he's sure Martyn would do the same for him.
Martyn had asked him about it one time. "If I killed someone, would you still love me?" Startled out of his task, Ren looked at his partner, confused, suds from the sink clinging to his arms. "Oh… Is that a serious question?" Martyn nodded, eyes glued to the counter. Ren turned, then, back against the sink, watching his boyfriend. Martyn always made eye contact unless he was worried about something.
"Then yeah, I would. Why? Did you?" Ren stepped forward, leaning across the counter, and punctuated the last question with a soft poke to Martyn's nose, eliciting a giggle from the other man. "No… but…" His thoughts seemed to over take him for a moment. Ren hesitated for only a second before he was around the counter and behind Martyn, enveloping his boyfriend in a backwards hug and burying his nose in the hair on Martyn's neck.
"I would love you no matter what." Ren said, voice muffled slightly. He sat up, leaning his full weight on Martyn's back. He knew that the other man liked pressure, because it helped him think. "I do love you no matter what. You should know that." He continued, squeezing Martyn's middle slightly, letting the small bubbles on his fingers pop against Martyn's shirt.
"Well… yeah. I-I do know that. But.. what if I killed you?" Ren didn't really know how to answer that. Was this a buildup to something? Maybe it was a new kink? Or… was he being serious?
Martyn wasn't finished, though. Turning in Ren's arms, gesturing slightly with his hands, the blond kept talking, like he was trying to reason with himself. He still wouldn't meet Ren's eyes.
"But what if you told me to? What if -what if you told me to kill you because you were doing it for both of us? Like.. because you knew - we both knew you wouldn't die for good, you'd be back in just a few minutes?" Ren's boyfriend seemed on the verge of tears. This wasn't going well. What was Ren supposed to do in this situation? This had never happened before. "What if I did it cause you ordered me to? What if I didn't want to do it?" He really was crying now, and Ren couldn't handle it. Had he made Martyn think he would force him to do something like that?
"Order you? Baby, what are you talking about? I would never do that!" Martyn sobbed into his shoulder as Ren held him tighter. The force of his crying shook his shoulders so violently Ren felt ill. How could Martyn think those things? That Ren would force him to not only a) do something he didn't want, but also to b) kill him?
"Babe, what is this really about? You know I love you no matter what." Martyn hiccuped softly, lifting his head to look at Ren with watery blue eyes. Even now, Ren thought he looked beautiful.
"Even if you were a worm." He tacked on, which made Martyn laugh hoarsely. Ren planted a kiss on the tip of his nose, letting their foreheads rest against each other. He could still tell Martyn wasn't fully in it: his eyes looked a little distant, and he was still sniffling a bit.
"Now… I suppose if I told you to do it…" He pretended to think. "Yes. I would still love you. But you're not going to do that now, are you?" Martyn shook his head. Was it Ren's imagination, or did his eyes go darker at Ren's words? "Didn't think so. Care to give me a hand with the dishes, vicious executioner?"
Martyn shook his head again and buried his face back in Ren's arms. Ren moved their bodies slowly, swaying them back and forth for a few more minutes while his boyfriend calmed down. Eventually, when Martyn's face went back to normal and he seemed okay, they moved to the sink to finish the dishes from lunch.
Ren worried about his boyfriend sometimes. He was normal, for the most part, and don't get Ren wrong, he loves every part of Martyn. Every inch. But sometimes, he scared Ren. He would have these terrible nightmares he would wake up from, but Martyn would never tell Ren. He would just sit there, silent sobs racking his body, until he either fell back asleep or Ren woke up and comforted him.
He never told Ren what they were about, either.
There were those rhetorical questions that happened, sometimes, where he would ask Ren if he would still love him if xyz happened. The answer was always yes, but the questions stopped after Martyn's breakdown about killing him. They were far enough apart that he never connected the dots until that night. He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, listening to his boyfriend's steady breaths. He wondered if he there was something he should be doing for Martyn that he wasn't. He slept fitfully that night.
The times that scared him the most were the days when he was able to come home from work early. On those days, when Martyn was home, he would hear a clatter in the bathroom that made him nervous, right after he closed the front door. It had happened three times before, all the same way.
Martyn would have his hands behind his back, looking sheepish and slightly alarmed when Ren rounded the corner, asking if he was okay. "Just fine, Ren, all good. Washing my hands and dropped the soap, is all." Ren would nod, and leave, but when he caught a glance in the mirror the second time it happened, there was a nasty cut on Martyn's wrist.
Right below his palm, a purple and red blistering wound that looked like it was infected. The door slammed when Martyn saw him looking, and every time Ren tried to bring it up in conversation, his boyfriend would snap and then shut him down.
Ren didn't know how to care for his partner on those days. He wanted to help, always. And he would love Martyn regardless of what was happening. But Martyn wouldn't let him.