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Martin cupped his hands around his face — half-hidden in shadow, and
oh, you kissed me
the softest, with the most care anyone had ever been given, with the kindest lights anyone’s eyes had ever received, with the highest moon —
just to kiss me
“I love you,” he told Jon, so quietly, like the words had never been said before. Maybe he never had.
not to take me home
“And I don’t need anything more from you.”
it was simple
“Only you.”
“Okay,” he whispered, the barest utterance of acceptance, still only half-believing in what he was being offered —
it was sweetness
Again, long and slow, both a long time coming and lingering, arriving both endlessly never and forever.
let’s just stay a while
Floating through life. Back to his flat. Imperfectly, between worlds.
depollute me, pretty baby
“There are some things you should know.”
“I would love you wherever we go. Wherever you’ve gone. Where you go — ”
“I go.”
suck the rot right out of my bloodstream
“I haven’t even told you half the things — of me...”
“Neither have I,” stubborn, always, ever.
oh, dilute me, gentle angel
Brash and snappy — waspish and drawling — gratingly, Jon’s voice drags over Martin’s ears, fading into the back of his mind with every layer of memory that’s replaced by something wholly new — tentative and open — terrified and brave — loving and self-deprecating — hesitantly, Jon’s voice circles around Martin’s head like mist — smoke.
— lashes long wet not with mist, not with tears, but with soil. Everything Jon’s ever said against himself.
“After everything I’ve done?"
“After everything that’s ever been done.”
And he really does cry now.
water down what i call being grateful
“Hey. You deserve this. You don’t owe me anything special.”
And Jon really doesn’t agree, but they’ll work on it.
you are sweetness —
it was good to know.