John is decidedly not soothed by the gentle passage of Martin's hand up and down his back; he can tell by Martin's tone that he's not going to drop the subject, and at this point, he rather thinks he ought to clarify his own feelings somehow. Except he isn't sure how to begin to unpack it all, and he can feel his mortification trying to transmute itself into a proper, unhelpful sulk.

So it's almost a mercy when Martin actually manages to get there on his own. Almost. John's blush deepens, more in response to Martin's audible shock than the belated bulls-eye, and he reaches up to grab his pillow, dragging it down to cover his head.

"... Maybe," he admits at length, muffled beneath the down.