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Peter Lukas’s words have been gnawing against Jon’s skull since the moment they had arrived at Daisy’s cottage. There’s a lot from the Lonely that Jon wouldn’t take back and does not regret, but ever since the mere suggestion had left Lukas’s mouth, Jon has feared that he and Martin do not know each other as well as they sometimes pretend.
It’s not that he fears that Martin is an entirely different person than the Martin he thinks he knows, and more that he worries that it might just be too late for both of them to really, truly know and love each other. He wants to know and love and deserve to love Martin Blackwood in ways he has not yet earned. He is impatient to recover those years he had lost not understanding what he had in front of him. Jon has always kept up a prickly exterior to prevent others from getting too close. Now, he knows that his life would have been immeasurably different had he taken those barriers down.
This is what leads him to one of the few places with wifi in the village, where he taps “get to know you questions” into Google and downloads the document enclosed under the first article without paying too much attention to the title. Had Jon been paying an ounce of attention, he might have noticed that the questions were not simply titled, “get to know you” questions, but rather, “36 questions to get to know a stranger and fall in love.”
That night, sitting on opposite ends of the tiny, moth-eaten loveseat, Jon pulls out the list.
He clears his throat awkwardly, and Martin’s head shoots up, hair flopping into his eyes. Jon adjusts the phone in his hands to stop himself from pushing it back.
“So.” He begins, wishing this was easier. “I found this list of questions online earlier today. They’re supposed to, er, help people get to know each other, and I don’t know you as well as I’d like, so I was thinking-”
Martin’s brow creases. Jon moves his hands under his legs to avoid smoothing it away.
“Jon.” Martin’s voice is warm, but there’s a note of concern in it. “Is this about what Peter said in the Lonely?”
“Yes,.” Jon admits.
Martin sighs, and for a moment Jon is concerned that he’s going to say no, but he just takes a sip of his tea and nods.
‘Go on then.’
“Right.” Jon clears his throat again before something occurs to him.
“Maybe you should read them, so I don’t accidentally-” he suggests tentatively.
Martin nods again and takes the phone from Jon.
Their fingers brush as he does so, and Jon tries to pretend that the feeling of Martin’s fingers on his don’t burn like Jude’s had.
“Here’s the first question: Given the choice of anyone in the world, who would you want as a dinner guest? His answer comes quickly, “Do they have to be alive? Mine would be Keats, I think.’
“Of course it would.” Jon rolls his eyes good-naturedly but finds himself surprised by the warmth in his voice. “Maybe just you, Basira, Daisy, Melanie and Georgie?’
Martin gives him a small smile.
“Read the next one?”
Martin does. “Would you like to be famous? In what way?”
“Absolutely not,” Jon says, “but I suppose if I had to be famous I’d rather it be for something I have to work at.”
Martin shakes his head quietly. “I don’t think I’d like the loss of anonymity.” He moves on quickly, “Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?’
He shrugs. “Depends on who’s going to be on the other end”
Jon wishes he had a different answer. “Ah...I used to, before ...all this.”
Martin moves on without comment. “What would constitute a “perfect” day for you?”
“Erm...A quiet day in with a book, tea, and someone I care about, I think.” Martin answers.
Jon can’t help but smile. “Same here”
Martin smiles back, just a little, and moves on to the next question.“When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else? “I hum to myself sometimes, just in quiet moments. I’m not much for singing though.”
Jon hesitates, knowing more questions will follow his answer. “Er...I used to sing back in college. Georgie and I were in a band together for a while.”
Martin laughs a little. “You? In a band?”
Jon nods. “Yes. Is that really so hard to believe?”
“Yes, actually. I’ll need photographic evidence.”
“I’m sure Georgie still has some,” Jon says. ‘Should we carry on?”
“You just want to change the topic.” The accusation is feather-light.
“Maybe so.”
“Right then. If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?” Martin reads.
“Easy, mind,” Jon says.
Martin nods. “Agreed.”
“Do you...have a secret hunch about how you will die?” Martin reads, “You know what, let’s skip this one”
Jon nods his assent and Martin moves on.
“Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.” Martin thinks for a moment. “We work at the same place, we both enjoy tea, and we can both appreciate a good cow.”
“Those are the easy ones!” Jon protests. “I think we’re both too hard on ourselves, we both need more sleep, and we both enjoy reading.”
“For what in your life do you feel most grateful?” Martin reads.
There’s a palpable shift in the tone of the room.
“Honestly? Still being alive.” Jon says quietly.
Martin nods. “Just being here”
Martin visibly swallows before reading the next question. “If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be? These are getting a bit more serious, aren’t they?”
“My grandmother could have paid closer attention I think,” Jon replies.
Martin doesn’t look at him. “I wish Mum had cared a bit more.”
Martin raises his eyes from his tea to meet Jon’s. Jon holds his gaze.
“Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible.” Martin reads. “Would you like to go first or should I?” he adds.
“I can if you like.” Jon offers.
Martin nods quietly, so Jon barrels on.
“I never knew my mum and dad.” Jon begins. He remembers committing this to tape what feels like years ago. “I was raised by my grandmother. I was a bit of a handful as a child so she did what she could but she wasn’t always able to pay too much attention to me. One of her favorite methods of keeping me busy was with books, any she could find for cheap...which is how I encountered my first Leitner at age nine. It was...a very near miss. I recorded a statement about it after he...died, but I don’t think anyone has ever heard it because I kept it tucked away in my desk. Anyways…”
“Wait, hang on.” Martin looks stricken. “At nine?”
Jon nods. “Yes. Someone...got in its way. He didn’t…” He trails off, and it’s clear enough that Martin understands where that sentence was going. Jon clears his throat.
Martin reaches across to him to cover Jon’s hand with his own, and Jon can feel warmth rising in his chest.
“Jon. I’m so sorry that happened to you.” Martin gently squeezes his hand. “If you ever need to tell me the rest I’ll be here.”
“I’ll tell you another time,” Jon promises, attempting to swallow the emotion in his voice. “Where was I? Ah, I studied literature and library sciences at Oxford, which is where I met Georgie, spent a few years jumping around from job to job and eventually settled at the institute. And here we are.”
“Right.” Martin begins. ‘My turn I suppose. Erm...Dad left when I was really young, so it was just Mum and me most of the time. She started getting more and more resentful toward me as I grew up, and I never understood why. Eli-Jonah told me once that it was because I’m apparently a carbon copy of him and looking at me reminded her of him too much. When I look back, I suppose it makes sense, you know? I dropped out of secondary school to care for her back when I was seventeen and worked where I could for a while, but I knew I’d need something better paying and long term eventually so I started lying on my CV around the time I was twenty-six. It never worked until the institute. I was a researcher there for a few years until we all got transferred to the archives. And you know my story from there.”
Jon nods quietly. Martin’s hand is still on his. He’s all too aware of its warmth there, the rough fingers covering the back of his hand, the pad of Martin’s thumb gently rubbing his knuckles.
Martin breaks the silence with the next question. “ If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?”
This answer comes easily to Jon. “More self-control... I don’t want to hurt anyone. Not again.”
Martin offers him a small smile and his answer. “More self-confidence, I think.”
“We’re on to set two,” Martin comments as he moves on to the next question. “If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?” Martin reads. He hums quietly before he answers. “I guess I’d just want to know if everything works out okay.”
Jon nods. “I think I’d want to know that too."
Martin moves on, “The next one says; Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?”
His hand falls abruptly from Jon’s. “Yes. I guess I just don’t know whether I should.” His eyes meet Jon’s, and there’s a conviction in them that Jon hadn’t expected.
He holds Martin’s gaze. “I think my answer might be the same.”
Martin swallows hard and breaks their eye contact to read the next question. “What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?”
Jon finds he isn’t sure. “Maybe my master’s degree?”
Martin nods. “I think that I’ve made enough of a difference in other’s lives to count that as my greatest accomplishment.”
Jon’s voice is hushed as he responds. “You have.”
Martin ducks his head to read the next question. Jon pretends to miss the way Martin looks like he might cry.
“What do you value most in a friendship?” Martin hesitates. “Really knowing someone, and knowing that they care for you and you care for them in return.”
Jon’s answer comes easily. “The small things. Tiny moments where you can tell how much they care.”
“What is your most treasured memory?” Martin reads. “Hmmm...you thinking I was a ghost still makes me laugh.”
Jon snorts derisively. “It was a reasonable assumption at the time! Your phrasing was terrible!”
Martin smiles. “Alright, what’s yours?’
Jon finds the answer more easily than he had expected. “Finding out I could trust you. It was...everything to me at that moment.”
Martin grins, but it fades when he reads the next question “What is your most terrible memory? When I accepted Peter’s offer. I’d lost everything at that moment.” He states, his eyes distant.
It’s Jon’s turn to bridge the gap and cover Martin’s hand with his own. “Mine would be when I thought that I’d lost you.”
Martin wipes his eyes with his free hand. “If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?”
The question is met with silence for a moment.
Martin breaks it. “We can skip this one if you feel it’s too close to home.”
Jon shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I think I’d try to be a better person in that last year. I haven’t always been kind or good to everyone and I think I’d try to make peace with anyone I could.”
Martin flips his hand to interlock his fingers with Jon’s.
“I’d take more chances on people, I think. And try to be more self-assertive,” He says.
“What does friendship mean to you?” Martin reads. “Ah...someone just being there for me, unconditionally, I think.”
Jon nods. "Someone who listens and really, truly hears you.”
Martin squeezes his hand gently. Jon meets his eyes.
“What roles do love and affection play in your life?” Martin reads.
“I haven’t dated anyone since Georgie,” Jon says thoughtfully. “I’ve just been so focused on my career. So they haven't really played much of a role in my life at all.”
Martin nods. “It’s been a while since I dated too, but I think I find affectionate moments where I can. Cups of tea, words, that sort of thing.”
Jon thinks of the cups left on his desk in the archives over the years. How had he missed those tiny things for so long?
Martin pulls him from his thoughts with the next question. “Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items.”
“I’ll go first.” Jon blurts. Martin gestures for him to continue so Jon barrels on. “You’re such an remarkably caring person, Martin. You care about everything, everyone. Even people you maybe shouldn’t care about quite so much.” Martin’s gaze feels heavy on him. Jon finds he can’t stop. “You’re warm, and clever, and impressive as hell. Seriously, how you handled Elia-Jonah while we were gone was incredible. You’re so brave, Martin.”
Jon finally looks up to find tears pouring down Martin’s face. “Oh, Martin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
Martin shakes his head. “No, Jon, you’re okay. That was just a lot.” A smile breaks out among the tears. “We were supposed to alternate, you know.”
Jon blushes. “Sorry. I just...got going and couldn’t stop."
Martin takes a deep breath. “Jon, you’re one of the most resilient people I know. You’ve bounced back and carried on after some horrible things have happened to you. For all the effort you go to to try to hide it, you care about people very deeply. You’re persistent. I’ve never seen you take no for an answer when it came to anything you truly cared about. You’re brave too, Jon.”
“I’m not-” Jon begins to object.
“No, seriously,” Martin says. “You confront things head-on even when it’s seriously dangerous. And yeah, sometimes it’s dumb. You work hard on the things that are important to you. I’ve seen you work to improve yourself over the years and...I’m proud of you, Jon.”
Jon thinks he might start crying too. He ducks his head while Martin reads the next question.
“How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s?”
“My grandmother didn’t spend much energy on that sort of thing. I wouldn’t say I had a happy childhood, exactly. But it wasn’t terrible overall, really.” Jon shrugs.
Martin sighs. “Mum really drew away from me after dad left, so we weren’t warm at all when I was growing up. Mum was never really that sort of person. Not to me, at least. Speaking of, the next question is; How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?”
“I never knew her,” Jon says.
“I think I’ve covered this one.” Martin rushes out.
Jon nods understandingly and they move on.
“Right, here’s the third set.” Martin says, “The first of them asks that we make three true ‘we statements’ each. I can go first, if you like.”
Jon nods his assent.
Martin goes ahead. “I think it’s safe to say We’re both feeling scared for the future.”
Jon can’t help but counter it. “We are feeling safe for the moment.”
“We are happy to be here, together.” Martin squeezes his hand gently with the last word.
Jon squeezes back. “We both have regrets.”
Martin hesitates, clearly out of ideas. “We, errr...both have cold tea sitting in front of us?”
Jon chuckles. “We’re tired?”
“I certainly am,” Martin says. “Let’s get through these. The next one says, ‘complete this sentence: I wish I had someone with whom I could share …'”
“Everything.” The word comes immediately to Jon. “Melanie was going to therapy, but she’s the only one of us who’s ever really spoken to someone about all of this."
Martin nods. “My darkest moments. There are times when I just feel sad, or lon-alone, and I think having someone to spend those moments with would be nice.” He moves on to the next question. “If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know.”
Jon feels an anxious tug in his chest. He really ought to tell Martin.
“I don’t…” He begins slowly, before backtracking to the word Georgie had given him back in college. “I’m asexual, Martin.”
Martin nods. “Okay.”
This wasn’t the reaction Jon had expected. “...Okay.” He responds cautiously.
Martin takes a deep breath. “I’ve been dealing with some pretty serious mental health issues for a long time and I’m in a pretty tough place overall right now."
Jon had suspected it, but Martin’s confession still makes something in his chest ache. “I’ll be here.” He promises.
Martin’s smile tells him that’s enough.
“Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you’ve just met...haven’t we already done this one?” Martin asks.
Jon nods. “I’m fairly sure we’ve done several variations of it. Let’s skip it, it's late.”
“Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life.” Martin reads.
“I may have accidentally led Tim to believe that I had been…‘hooking up’ with Basira.” Jon cringed.
Martin cringes. “Are you sure he wasn’t just messing with you?”
Jon shrugs. “I’m not sure. It always was hard to tell, with Tim.”
Martin sighs. “Back in secondary school, I accidentally left one of my poetry composition books laying around at school, and one of my classmates found it. I was frantic, I had no idea where I’d left it, and then when I got to the cafeteria a few days later, some of my classmates were standing on tables, doing dramatic readings of it…”
Jon winces.
“The worst part was, a lot of it was about my crush on a boy a year above me, so afterward, everyone knew that I was gay, and it didn’t take long for mum to find out, and the whole thing was a mess."
“God, Martin.” Jon says, “I am so sorry that happened to you.”
Martin shrugs. “It’s okay, really. I mean, it wasn’t at the time. But it was just one of those things that was traumatic at the time and just an unpleasant memory much later.”
“When did you last cry in front of another person?” Martin reads.
“I...I went to everyone I could for help saving you.” Jon confesses. “When Helen turned me down...she was the last person I thought might...well.”
Martin answers quietly. “I cried in front of you after we left the Lonely...and then several times after that.”
“Tell your partner something that you like about them already.”Martin frowned. “I think these questions assume we don’t already know each other.”
Jon shrugs. “You may be right. Let’s skip it.”
Martin nods and moves on. “What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?”
Jon hummed thoughtfully. “There certainly are things too serious to be joked about...things that damage people, maybe?”
Martin nodded again. “Yeah, things that are deliberately or unintentionally hurtful definitely fall into that category.”
“If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone?” Martin reads. “Why haven’t you told them yet?”
Jon looks up at him, his gaze very nearly alarming in it’s intensity. “That I care about them very deeply, and that I’m sorry for any hurt I may have caused them over the years. I know there’s no way to make up for it, but I hope they can find it within themselves to forgive me.”
“You’re not planning on dying tonight, are you Jon?” Martin says, half jokingly.
Jon shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “Was I that obvious?”
Martin nods. “I think I’d tell someone how much I cared - how much I still care about them. Despite their imperfections and faults.”
Jon bites his lip. Martin moves on. "Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?”
“Maybe my poetry books,” Martin says. “I haven’t used them in a while but I think they’re what I’d be saddest to lose.”
“I have a lot of books at home that I’d be sad to lose,” Jon replies. “But I can’t think of a specific object that would be difficult for me to lose.”
“Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing and why? Ah...my mother’s death was fairly disturbing for me,” Martin says. “We never made peace, not once.”
Jon sighs. “I...don’t have any family left. My grandmother passed shortly before the end of my time at Oxford. I suppose out of everyone I have left, it’d be you, Martin."
Martin looks up at him. “Me? Why?”"
Jon just looks at him for a long moment. Finally, he says, “You’re the last...you’re all I have left.”
Martin tightens his grip on Jon’s hand.
“Share a personal problem and ask your partner’s advice on how he or she might handle it.” Martin reads. “Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen.”
“I don’t know if I’m human anymore.” Jon says, “and I doubt that people can be safe around me. And that’s-” He laughs, low and bitter. “That’s terrifying to be honest.”
“The fact that that scares you alone makes you more human than you realize, Jon.” Martin says.
“Ever since we got out...I’ve been scared that the Lonely will come back to me.” Martin says, “I’m scared that if I lose sight of the world for even a moment, if I lose focus, that it’ll just...all coming rushing back to me. And that...” His voice breaks, “That scares me so much, Jon.”
“You’re not going back there.” Jon promises, his voice breaking slightly. “I won’t let-you won’t go back there. I swear it, Martin.”
Martin sniffles, and they both have to take a long moment of quiet before moving on.
“The last thing on the list is looking into each other’s eyes for four minutes,” Martin says. He sets the phone face down on the coffee table and looks across to Jon.
“Ready?” He asks.
Jon nods, already meeting Martin’s eyes.
If someone had asked him what color Martin’s eyes were only a few short months ago, he wouldn’t have had an answer. He might have hazarded a guess at grey or brown, but neither would have been correct. Jon can see Martin’s eyes now and realizes that they’re hazel, a beautiful mix of brown and green and grey and gold that stands out nicely against his pale, freckled face and unruly mop of strawberry blonde hair.
Martin meets his eyes in a calm, quiet sort of manner that Jon is nearly certain that he wouldn’t have been capable of a year ago. His face betrays a certain nervous energy that always seems to be simmering below the surface when it comes to Martin, but his eye contact is unwavering and sure. Martin lifts a hand to brush a stray lock of ginger hair out of his face, casting a shadow over his eyes that brings out the browns and greens, and when he lowers it, the gold comes into relief again, more beautiful than it had been before.
How could Jon have never noticed how wonderful Martin is before his coma? How could he ever have disparaged and chastised and been outright cruel? Why hadn’t he seen what he sees now years ago before everything in his life went to shit?
“Err.” Martin is the one to break the silence, though Jon knows that the four minutes aren’t yet up. “Jon, you’re crying. Are you alright?”
Jon lifts a hand to his face, and for the first time, notices the damp tear tracks below his eyes. He blinks hard, and more pour down his face. Martin’s face blurs.
“The four minutes aren’t over yet.” He murmurs, silently hating the fact that this is the first thing to come out of his mouth.
“The four minutes don’t matter.” Martin counters. “Come here.”
Jon does so gladly, scooting across the couch to bury his face in Martin's chest and allow Martin to wrap his arms around him, one hand moving to Jon’s hair and burying itself there as Jon’s shoulders shake.
For a long while, they sit there, wrapped together on the couch while Jon cries every unshed tear from the last few years and Martin gently strokes his salt and pepper hair. When he’s cried all that he can, Jon allows himself a moment more in Martin’s embrace before pulling back, but only far enough so that he can meet Martin’s eyes again. Slowly, he lifts a hand to Martin’s cheek to brush away a stray tear on his face. Martin leans into it, gently closing his eyes and lifting a hand to cover Jon’s.
Hazel meets brown, and Jon feels a burst of certainty in his chest that drives him forward to press his lips to Martin’s for a mere moment, before he pulls back, realizing that he probably should have asked, that it’s possible that Martin no longer wants this. But to Jon’s immense joy, Martin doesn’t let him get away. Jon’s lips have barely left Martin’s when he leans in, wrapping his arms around Jon’s neck and returning the kiss. Jon allows himself this, to melt into Martin’s arms and meet him with gentle kisses that are long overdue. Jon can’t figure out where to put his hands, but in the best sort of way, one traveling to Martin’s hip and then cheek and back and chest, mapping Martin’s body in ways he ought to have done years ago.
Eventually, they both have to come up for air, and they pull away just far enough to smile at each other and for Jon to bury his face in Martin’s chest again, this time with a happy, content smile that he tucks into the place where Martin’s heart beats against his rib cage. A soft hand strokes gently through Jon’s hair, and Martin’s lips press kisses against the top of his head.
For just a moment, Jon hopes that there’s enough good in his life that he can keep this, before dismissing that line of thought entirely and pulling away to use his time to press kisses to Martin’s face.
“I love you, Martin.” He says, and the reverent smile that breaks onto Martin’s face makes the declaration a thousand times better.
He says it again, just to see the look on Martin’s face, and eliciting giggles and an even wider smile that he can’t help but return as Martin murmurs the words back into Jon’s skin and hair as if he has all the time in the world.