Jonathan Sims

The fight to contain his own tears is over the moment Martin realizes that John is fighting them himself. His mouth drops open, wanting for a mortified moment to take it back, to apologize for whatever he's said wrong. But then John blurts out his answer, and Martin just stares at him, somewhere between baffled and awestruck, and the tears start to fall.

Christ, he feels so stupid. He's not even sure why he's crying, what he has the right to cry about here. He's not sure what's set John off, either. It all just feels like too much for him to bear, and while he could pin that on the nightmare he's still shaking off, he's pretty certain that would be too easy.

The happiest he's ever been. There is no doubt he means it, no hint of exaggeration. Martin has made him happier than he's ever been in his life. He doesn't even know that much about John's life, not his history or his childhood or his past relationships. Thinking about it now makes him feel so hopelessly shallow, developing this crush based on John's voice and the way he looks, a vague of how smart and curious he is, and the even vaguer conviction that all that workplace nastiness was masking something else. Little hints of how he was with Sasha, or even Tim at times. Something Martin assumed he'd never be permitted. And now, to have the truth lain out like this, and John in tears over it?

"Jesus Christ," he whispers, almost laughing in disbelief even as he brushes his hand rather brusquely across his tear-stained cheeks. He doesn't know what else to say, and in the end he's left with only one option that feels both too forward and desperately necessary. It is terrifying to reach out, opening his arms in tentative invitation; he trembles slightly, already close to losing his nerve. "C-come here," he says, and flushes with instant regret. "I-I mean, only if you—"