apocalypsehowcomm | [log] no matter what they tell you / the future's up for grabs, no

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[log] no matter what they tell you / the future's up for grabs, no

Who: Martin and you, possibly!
When: After his network post over the next day or two.
Where: The ADI apartments, the library, and the beach.
Summary: Jon has disappeared. Martin is not taking it well by any stretch of the word.
Warnings: Disassociation, codependency, depression, lots and lots of guilt, and maybe more as they come up.

i. [ADI apartments] nobody said the road was endless / nobody said the climb was friendless

[Jon is gone. Jon is not here and his phone is deactivated and Martin is running over every single detail of the day and the last time he saw him in his head. It was this morning, they were in bed, he's sure he saw him then and did he say I love you this morning? Did he forget? The mug Jon used for coffee is still in the sink, it can't have been that far, he can't have gone that far.

At first, he's just in the apartment after he makes the post, pacing around and looking for clues. He's checked every window for any kind of unknown entry, he's gone through every paper left behind on the small desk in their room, he's looked in every drawer for missing clothes or belongings or--

Even if you don't come calling to just check on him, he can be found around apartment block B, just... looking. It's uncanny how quiet he is in these moments, seeming to look at places on the floor, at windows, even in the stairwell, but he's in rapt attention until he's approached.]

Sorry, if-- don't mind me. Just looking for something, you can carry on, don't mean to block you--

[He almost sounds out of breath, for some reason. Strange.]

ii. [the library] but could we please pretend this won't end?

[He can't stay in the apartment for too long. Once he's searched ADI up and down, it's off to other places he thinks Jon might be. He's heard something's happening with the library recently- maybe Jon's investigating, it would be normal, it would be so normal to find him there and this could all be over so quickly.

In fact, as soon as he steps in, he hears him. It's faint, but the relief he feels is so sweet he almost feels like crying. Immediately he's almost running, eyes sharp and alert, towards his voice. But he doesn't see him still, even though it's most certainly Jon's voice, until he almost runs smack into the history section wall. This makes no sense. It's not right and it's not...

It's not real. It's not real, is it? Of course. How could he be so stupid.

So he sits. He sits in a nearby chair, closes his eyes, and tries to listen for anything he can. If you come in to approach, you may also be able to hear the voice of a man, sounding as if he's speaking through a tape recorder of some kind.]

These Entities will follow us anywhere we go, but we have to stop them, no matter what. We run on time that is not ours, to a place not our own, but we have to succeed or risk everything. There is no going back. There is no. Going. Back.

iii. [the beach] we'll cry later or cry now / you know it's heartbreak

[It's quiet here. He's sitting cross-legged in the sand as the sun sets, the movement of the waves creating a fine mist that extends up past where the waves reach. It's still winter-- still cold-- but he doesn't seem bothered, even if you might be able to see his breath as he exhales. His eyes aren't closed, but he's barely even blinking as he looks out into the expanse, sitting unnaturally still. It's almost as if he isn't even there, even with no one else around. A fitting place for him. A fitting end, perhaps.

But he doesn't seem to be dying, or leaving, just... existing. He won't say anything unless addressed, or you come and sit next to him in the silence, where eventually he'll break it.]

Do you need something? From me.

iv. [wildcard] we could dance our tears away, emancipate ourselves

[Want something else with Martin on this? Hit me up via DM, Discord, or Plurk at

cancerously and we can get plotting!]

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[Winter is not particularly fond of the beach, but on one of his patrol-like prowls around town he spotted Martin heading that way, and now he's circling back around to check on him. Because hey, he saw that message about Jon, and he knows they were close.

So he hovers around behind him for a long minute before crunching up over the sand in his combat boots to crouch beside him, just barely within touching reach.]

You okay.

[Honestly, Martin doesn't know what he'd do if someone touched him. It seems so foreign now, everything around him out of touch and far away.

He hears Winter, though. And he could lie. But he's... a bit tired, for that.]

I'm not hurt. Physically, I mean.

[That... doesn't really answer the question.]

That's good.

[Well, really, it's partly an answer. He does, however, add his clear observation:]

You're upset.

[It's a statement of the obvious, sure, but it's also an invitation to talk about it if Martin wants to.]

[For once, their roles lie reversed. Winter is prodding for Martin to have emotions, and Martin looks like he has absolutely no idea how to have them. All of the grief, the hurt, those are so big. How does he even begin to address it all?]

I'm... yeah. Jon's gone.

[He wants to call him his boyfriend again, maybe something more, but he can't. The thought makes his throat tighten and he loses focus on the feeling, as if remembering too much will cause him to burst.]

I looked everywhere. But he's just... gone.

[Well, that was a start. Also, Winter had figured that much out. He starts with:]

I'm sorry.

[Because losing people sucks. He remembers losing Strange. Wanda. Meredith. The thought of losing someone even loser to him, Yelena or Steve or Kate, is not one he likes to contemplate. But he also has all three of them. He's not sure who Martin has.]

Do you have other people? Who aren't him. But just. Other people, too.

[He's expecting the apologies, the attempts to console him, and he barely registers it. But at least Winter keeps talking, makes him keep thinking, even though it brings up another world of questions.

Instead, he just shrugs.]

I know... other people, if that's what you mean. But he...

[What is there even to say?]

He's different. Than anyone else. More important.

[Winter nods. He knows how that is. He's got important people, too. If something happened to Steve or Yelena... Kate or Cortana... he doesn't like to think about it.]

Other people aren't the same. But they're better than nothing, too. You shouldn't be alone.

[It's the kind thing, what Winter is doing. It's the kindness Martin feels he doesn't deserve somewhere in his gut, and yet here he is trying to accept it anyway. He needs this lifeline or he knows where he'll go.]

Yeah, I... I know.

[And yet here he is, at the ocean, barely talking to anyone. Hmm.]

There's just, nothing anybody can do, right? It... it feels wrong to be going to people with problems they can't solve.

The problem in that case isn't your person being gone. The problem is you being alone. And lonely. Other people can help that, even if they aren't your person.

[He reaches over slowly, having to lean to make it, to give Martin's shoulder a gentle, careful pat.]

I'm not very good at being a friend. But I'll try. If you want.

[Alone. And lonely. Oh buddy, you have no idea.

The touch does take him by surprise, though, as do the words. Winter has always been an interesting guy, but this is a kindness he wouldn't have expected from him.]

That's... t-that's really nice of you. I mean, it...it's good to see you doing, uhm, so well. You've grown a lot since I met you.

[Winter gives an awkward little shrug with his right shoulder.]

Trying to be a person, so I don't scare anyone for the Stranger. It's hard. But better than the alternative.

[A little smile tugs at his lips a bit more.]

Yeah... yeah. I know the feeling. It's... it's tempting, but. You can't get into it, you know? You can't... let yourself have it, because it's bad for you in the long run.

[Winter tilts his head a little.]

It's not actually tempting. I don't want to scare people. I've spent decades scaring people. Killing them on orders. I don't want that anymore. My arm hurting more than it used to, having to work harder to do the things I used to, that's fine. That's worth not scaring people.

[He puffs out a little breath.]

The hard part is doing it right. I'm still learning.

R-Right. I meant, uhm...

[cmon now marto pull it tf back there]

Like it's tempting to give up once in a while. Do things the easy way. Instead of, y-you know, the right one. Slipping.

[Because you're tired, and you don't like yourself, and this is easier, and and and and.]

[Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, depression is not one of Winter's particular struggles, nor is ever trying to take the easy way out. Nothing has ever been easy, for him, that he can remember.

But he has a good imagination. And he knows what hopelessness feels like, what being trapped into a situation with no way out feels like. His response was usually more along the lines of rage, though. So he chews on his thoughts for a moment, then admits,]

I don't usually know what the right thing is. I just hope the people around me know and can help me.

[It'd probably be better for him if Martin just got mad instead of sad at everything, but unfortunately, his brain said Depression Time and very little else. But still, Winter's words make sense- even if the lonely part of him doesn't want to admit it. He doesn't have to do this alone. Except...]

Do you ever feel... guilty, for that? Like, like you're taking up too much time with your problems from other people. Like all you do is... is take, and they secretly hate doing all that?

[That brings Winter up short and he frowns.]

No. I do things for them, too. Belova says I'm the reason she didn't find an entity. I teach Kate self-defense. Steve is.

[He pauses, unable to think of anything he does for Steve, but he can't imagine Steve hating him for any reason, so:]

Steve is extremely, ridiculously biased. About me.

[He considers a beat more, then adds,]

Sometimes I feel useless because of my problems. But not that people hate me because of them.

[He regards all of it coolly, though he can't help but smile just a bit at Steve being persistent to care about someone. He doesn't know the details of their relationship, but they must have history, and he knows what it's like to have that sort of understanding with someone.

He nods along though, trying so hard to listen and accept without trying to prove him wrong for his own misery.]

That's... that makes sense. Thank you.

[It's unfortunate he's lost the one person biased incredibly to him, but such as it is.]

I don't know what I do for anyone else. But I guess I have to find something, if Jon's not here.

[Winter considers, then says,]

Maybe all someone needs is your company. To be their friend. Watch movies and listen to them read books and tell them when they're doing something stupid.

[To make it more clear that he's talking at least about himself, he adds,]

I don't need you to do anything for me. But that doesn't mean I want you to go away, either.

[Technically, Martin knows all of this is true, because this is the sort of thing he'd say to someone else. But for someone who's life has been primarily love as transaction, love as desperately trying to get anything back, it's hard to divorce himself from those thoughts when the situation is about him.

But he has to try. He knows what happens when he doesn't try.]

I... thank you, Winter. Really, I-- I don't know how good of company I am, but, it. If it helps.

[Close enough.]

I appreciate you coming to talk to me. Here, I-I mean.

I'm not great company, either. Most of us aren't great company most of the time, it's fine.

[He leans over for another ginger pat on his shoulder.]

There's hot cocoa back at the apartments. If you want some. I could walk back with you and make you some.

[Out of everything Martin expected, to actually feel a bit better with company, with talking-- this was not on the list. But it's kind, and wonderful, and he really does feel among friends here with Winter. It's a lot for a man condemned to the Lonely only a scant few years previous. But it's a good lot. The kind he needs.

So he smiles, and gives Winter a nod.]

I think I'd like that, actually. And for what it's worth, I think you make lovely company. Quite lovely, in fact.

[Winter heaves himself up to his feet and offers Martin a hand up, as well.]

Hot cocoa is better company, I promise. Kate might have brownies left, too.

[Winter will generously share his brownies with Martin if it'll help him feel better.]

[You are a gentleman and a generous man, Winter. Martin will happily accept.]

Well, then both of your company will be accepted.

[You're just as good of company as cocoa is, Winter, don't sell yourself short. But Martin will take his hand and gently get to his feet as well.]

Lead the way then.

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[log] no matter what they tell you / the future's up for grabs, no

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we can probs call this wrapped if you want!