Jonathan Sims

The idea that Martin hasn't been offering meaningful help strikes John as a bit unfair — as if his struggles can be boiled down to just Statement-based supply and demand. Knowing that someone cares is important; knowing that he's accountable to someone he loves can easily make the difference between a night spent pacing around his own flat and a night spent prowling the city streets. None of it was comfortable or easy for him, and it clearly wasn't comfortable or easy for Martin, either. But Martin's help on this front has always run deeper than just a quelling personal anecdote.

He's weighing his phrasing when Martin steps forward and pulls him into a hug, and for a moment he abandons speech. His arms curl around Martin in turn, and he dips his head to press a kiss to Martin's crown. Any lingering chill from outside is banished by Martin's warmth, and John basks in it for a few more moments before he ventures to speak.

"I wouldn't say you didn't help, even if you weren't fixing everything," he murmurs into the soft weft of Martin's hair. "It helps that you care so much. It helps that I— that I don't want to disappoint you. It helps that you're here." He gives Martin's back a slow rub. "Maybe the solution wasn't your idea, but... I wouldn't have held out long enough for us to find it without you."

Then, his tone taking on the faintest hint of wry indignation, he adds, "And Christ, you've certainly earned your fair share of the relief." Things are better, more stable, than they've ever been; he shouldn't be the only one actually enjoying it.