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A soft hum from the radiator echoed through the hall, followed by footsteps from the level above. The sun beat down against the wall opposite, bouncing back into Martin’s glasses. The door opposite him was blank apart from a name tag above it of the occupant inside.
Letting out a slow sigh, Martin rubbed the side of his neck. Was therapy even necessary? He’s dealt with grief before, alone, and it seemed alright.. Regardless, he knew that Melanie would drag him into the room herself if he chickened out.
Taking a small breath, Martin knocked on the door gently and opened it, peeking his head through for a second to see if his therapist was in. Surely enough, she was sat there with her head twisted to Martin, a gentle smile present. At once, that encouraged his entrance.
“Good Afternoon, I take it this week has been better?”
“Hi, Laverne.” Martin offered a polite smile in return, closing the door behind him and settling on the chair in front. “I guess? I’ve went to see my mum over the week, which was nice.”
Laverne nodded softly. “Should we pick up from where we left off last time or begin anew?”
“Um..” Martin mused for a moment, flattening his lips in thoughts. On one hand, he could relive the memories of everything that caused him to go to therapy, or he could just forget about it; never think twice about…
“No. Let’s- let’s continue.” His words stumbled out as he looked up at Laverne, swallowing down the building pressure in his throat.
“Okay. Would you like me to prompt you in?” Martin shook his head, bringing his fist to his chin and drumming his fingers against it for a moment.
From where they left off, Martin could already feel the cold embrace of grief wash over him. The conversation about his job at the Magnus Institute was coming back to him, about how The Archives within the Institute burned down.
Everything seemed to be fine. He was promoted to be the assistant to the Head Archivist: Jonathan sims, alongside his friends Tim Stoker and Sasha James. Everything was finally going great. Martin had a job which was quite dangerous and unnerving, yet gave him sense of belonging that he never had before. Everything that has happened to him within those few weeks in the Archives felt like a lifetime.
And then, it turned into nothing but ashes and smoke.
Martin still remembered all the details. He recalled standing at the counter, watching the water boil inside the kettle, timing it silently to see if he should ask to get a new kettle or not.
Then he began smelling smoke, first assuming it was just the tunnels beneath. Naturally he thought nothing of it, teenagers loved to start fires and cause havoc, so he just resumed the counting. It wasn’t until he began hearing the fire alarm go off from above in reception, which, at first, made him jump, that he started to get worried.
Martin turned to the door, uneasy, clenching his sweater a little. There was never a time where there was an actual fire when a fire alarm went off, it was always just for drills or something broke, so he stayed frozen in his position. But, at the same time, the overwhelming smell of burning engulfed him, making him grow more and more uncomfortable.
Despite the urge to leave the building, as all protocols said to when there was an alarm, Martin knew he wouldn’t forgive himself if he didn’t go check to see if there was someone left in the Archives who didn’t quite catch the alarm. So, he stood up from the counter and made his way to the hall, feeling how violent the smell of smoke got suddenly as he passed the door.
“Martin!” He turned to the staircase sharply, seeing a fierce looking Tim, making his way down to Martin’s direction.
“Tim! Whu- ge- get out!” Frantically, Martin began walking the opposite way from the stairs, determined to check for anyone but was shortly stopped after Tim gripped onto his arm.
“No. Come on.”
“There might be someone here still.” Retorted Martin, looking back at Tim desperately. In return, a wink of pity crossed the latter; forcing a brief sigh and a small smile from Martin. “I’ll be quick. Y-You won’t even notice. I bet it’s not even a real fire anyway.”
The grip on his arm was nothing but a void now as he scurried down the hall, turning to the first office he could open the door to - Sasha’s office. Thankfully, she was out on break so there was nothing here but a cold breeze which Martin silently appreciated, always being jealous of her AC.
There was no time to dwindle, however, so Martin quickly shut the door behind and turned to face Jon’s office, which now he realised was where the smell was coming from as he caught a whiff of it again. “Shit. Shit, shit-“ Martin hissed under his breath as his heart leaped, feeling his face drain of all colour. Could there actually be a real fire? Grunting under his breath, Martin tried the doorknob.
His breath hitched. He twisted the knob left and right, hands growing sweaty and legs becoming jelly. “Come on..” Martin wheezed out as he kept turning the doorknob, anxiety spiking.
“Martin!” Tim’s voice was persistent as it echoed down the hall, but he ignored it, budging his shoulder into the door, trying desperately to open it any way he can.
“There can be someone in there and-“ Martin coughed, his chest aching as his heart beat evermore faster, feeling faint now from how much anxiety is thundering through him.
“There’s no time- come on!” Tim latched his arm round Martin’s trying to pull him away. At once, the door burst open, causing a wince from the duo as a large fire blinded them. Quickly, Martin forced his eyes open, squinting to try and see past the fire which startled him.
“He stood there.. Beyond the fire.” Martin mumbled out to Laverne, his gaze cast low at the brutal recollection. “..He looked terrified.
“I’ve never seen Jon look so scared.
“I’ve never seen such terror in his face than that day.
“I wanted to save him, I couldn’t leave him behind.” He swallowed, voice shaking. “I-I knew Tim also wanted to help, I saw how.. How mortified he looked when we exchanged looks. We wanted to save him- to..
“I would’ve went inside that room, let the fire engulf me, just to let him know he wasn’t alone. Then the fire broke loose as something collapsed in that room, blinding me and Tim more. I began coughing more and-and Tim pulled me back as we heard louder and louder things... I think it was the ceiling collapsing, actually.
“I couldn’t..Do anything. I began feeling more faint and I knew Tim wasn’t feeling well either as he was swaying on his feet.
“So it was either killing myself, try to save Jon, or try to not lose Tim.”
Martin went quiet, fidgeting with his hands for a moment, counting his breaths to try and stay composed and finish his story. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Laverne with her small notebook and pen, scribbling a few words down as she waited patiently.
“In the end.” He continued quietly, “Tim helped me away from the door, which was covered in-in stuff and fire, making it impossible to reach Jon. I began coughing badly too and erm.. We got out the building.”
Rubbing his arm, Martin stayed quiet, realising he’s just repeating everything he said from their previous session.
“S-Sorry- ah- this is probably.. I’m not- where did we get up to last time?” Martin eventually asked quietly, his thoughts muffled.
“You went back to work, life ’moved on’ as you described.”
“Right.” He hummed quietly, drumming his fingers against his knee.
“It’s been nearly a month now since Jon was last at the institute.” Martin continued softly.
“I miss him tremendously.” He paused, taking a small breath.
“I keep making his tea by mistake. Black, one sugar.” At the memory, a small smile spread across his face, a faint moment of bliss.
“But, then I reach his office and it’s..dark and empty and silent inside.” His smile dropped back to a sorrowful expression.
“And I can’t help but think about this bloody song by The Smiths that Jon used to hum while he worked. I- I remember searching it up, ’Back to the Old House’? It’s a nice song.” He murmured, rubbing his elbow with a shrug.
“And I can’t help but wish about how I’d told him when I had the chance.”
“Maybe I could’ve changed him.”
“Maybe he would love me.”