It was one smile. That's all.
One smile, one of many in fact, and here Jon was, way too... something. Happy? No, it felt like more. A lot more. Excited? Didn't feel right. Whatever it was, it was annoying and it was distracting.
Jon felt the need to shake his hands violently every few minutes. He could feel it building up slowly, felt his pen shake in his hand. Felt the familiar sensation of being completely out of breath. It was infuriating.
There had to be a reason. Something. All their mind came up with was that smile, but that couldn't be it. It must've been the lighting or his eyes or the slightly different smell of the tea or the brush of their fingers or something other than a thing he sees daily at this point.
He felt a tingling and decided to spring up, resulting in him jumping around while flailing his hands. It felt like something way out of their control and like the most conscious decision they'd ever made at the same time. Jon caught themself looking silly and stopped. Just stopped. It felt like the room was moving for him now.
He went out of his office, felt like he needed some cold water. Cold enough for a brain freeze. They suddenly cursed themself for not bringing the hair band they usually always had with them. Water would do for now. It had to.
It didn't. It helped a bit, but that tingling, biting feeling just beneath their skin didn't go away. Jon tried flapping his hands again, thought it could work. Wouldn't be a solution anyway. He had work to do that needed his hands to stay in one place. They resulted to wiggle their feet in the air, lifting them just above the floor.
It was at that moment Martin came in, and Jon did his best to stop his feet from moving.
“Hi, is everything alright? Thought I heard some noise from here earlier.” Martin sounded more curious than worried if you listened closely.
Jon coughed. “Yes, it's nothing.” When Martin looked expectingly at them, they tried to elaborate. “Some files fell, nothing worrisome.”
Martin smiled at that and damn it, Jon felt his hand begin fidgeting with his sleeves. They would not begin whatever ridiculous action they were doing earlier in front of Martin.
Jon looked down at their desk in an attempt to get Martin to leave. “Is there anything I can get for you?” “No.” His tone must have been way off because when he looked up, Martin's smile was gone, vanished. Jon felt a slight pain at the knowledge that it had been his fault.
Martin left and the not-quite-silence of their office was back. Jon quickly shook his hands a bit before he felt his wrists ache. Back to wiggling his feet then.
It would be a long evening.
I hold my hand in the sunlight, reminded of your touch. Warmth spreads only to my wrist. I don't love you, not in that way, but I somehow see you in every couple, every romantic gesture I come across. Love songs are enough for me to spiral into self doubt and an unrecognisable ache in my chest. I am so afraid of losing those feelings I had when we were together but you're already a stranger. Am I being harsh when I tell myself to move on? After all, I was the bad guy. I was the one you grew tired of. I'm the one you can't stand to be around anymore. If I'm no one without you, aren't I just an empty husk?
It was a loud gasp that woke him up. And while Jon certainly wasn't the heaviest of sleepers, quite the opposite, that didn't happen often. Which meant something serious must've happened.
Jon bolted up from the chair he'd been sleeping on. It wasn't the most comfortable place, but he'd gotten used to it. This was just a part of the job, he told himself. Jon opened his door to check if anyone in the archive had just read something utterly shocking, but judging by the lights, it seemed everyone had already left.
Jon turned on his phone, periodically blinded by how bright the screen glowed. 02:41. Of course. He'd fallen asleep, not getting any work done for however long he'd been unconscious. He sighed as loudly as he could. He'd deal with the lost work later.
For now, he felt an obligation to check if any intruders had gotten in. He didn't know what he would do if he found Prentiss stalking around in the archive, but he couldn't get the thought of her to go away either. Better safe than sorry, even if any confrontation with Prentiss would certainly not be even slightly safe.
Martin was the only other person than him in the archives (presumably), so Jon decided to visit him first. When Jon opened the door, he was greeted with a tightly rolled up ball of a person. Martin sat on the floor, back against the wall, trying to take up less space than physically possible. His sobs were quiet, but some slipped through as loud gasps for air. It didn't seem like Jon had been spotted yet.
Now, Jon wasn't a bad person, no matter how much he made it seem that way to other people. He couldn't just leave Martin to his own while he's clearly feeling worse than ideal. Jon stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. “Uh… hello? Martin?” The sound cut through the mostly silent air. Martin went completely still, finally noticing Jon's arrival.
Jon suddenly felt very out of place. What was he thinking? This was incredibly unprofessional. He should've just left before Martin heard him, should've let Martin deal with this on his own instead of having his mean boss barging in on top of that, should've-
Martin began to move, pulling Jon out of his thoughts. He seemed to rub his face, almost desperately, before looking up at Jon. Martin's face was red and tired. He smiled a very forced smile. “Oh, Jon! Hello, can I help you with something?” His voice sounded the same as it always did, warm and overly nice, if now a little strained.
“Martin,” Jon began, gesturing to the man in question. “You're clearly the one who needs help. What happened?” Martin suddenly stared at the floor. His fingers quickly fidgeting with the t-shirt he had been sleeping in. Jon felt the urge to do the same himself, but he pushed it down. It would hardly help anyone if he appeared nervous as well.
“O-oh, it's fine.” Martin stammered out. “Nothing- nothing happened. You can go back t-to, um, what you were doing.” Jon didn't know how to answer. Yes, he wanted to go back to catch up on work and Martin just gave him a perfect way out of the situation, but there was something in the way Martin spoke. Something afraid behind that forced smile. Martin had clearly been crying, Jon wasn't an idiot, and he wasn't doing well. He saw something familiar in the way Martin acted and decided he couldn't leave this alone, no matter how much he should.
“Martin.” Jon said, trying to sound strict but faltering slightly. Martin snapped up again. There was something in his eyes. Something desperate. Jon tried to ignore it. He sat down opposite Martin, legs crossed. “Tell me what happened.”
Martin began waving around as he spoke. “It's nothing, really.” Jon felt the subpar sleep catching up on him and therefore didn't have the energy to question his next actions. He put a hand on Martin's shoulder and spoke steadily. “I don't mind listening, honestly.” Jon felt his face heat up at how silent the room was after that. It seemed to have to same effect on Martin, who stared silently Jon. He withdrew his hand, which seemed like the right move, seeing as Martin began speaking shortly after.
“I… had a nightmare.” Martin took a short breath. “a-about the worms.” Jon didn't know how to respond, so he simply didn't. “I was in my apartment and there was knocking, just constant knocking and squirming and I couldn't help it or make it stop and I just wanted it to stop-” Martin put his hands to his face, rubbing excessively. “I wanted to wake up, but when I couldn't I was sure that I'd never escaped. That all of this, me living in the archives, actually getting away alive, was all some long dream. I was so scared that I was back there for good. That I wouldn't get out. That I'd-”
Martin curled up, managing to take up even less space than before. It all felt… wrong, Jon thought. Here was the brightest force in the archives, certainly not the most efficient, but valuable nonetheless, curled up and sobbing while his only comfort was Jon. As much as Jon dreaded ever voicing those thoughts out loud, he still had them.
Jon moved to sit shoulder to shoulder with Martin. He took a deep breath before talking. “I have nightmares too. Not… worm-related ones, but a nightmare's a nightmare, right?” Martin chuckled, barely noticeable. “I don't want to go into too much detail, but I do have a similar feeling of being trapped in my dreams. I get so involved that I feel I have no way back to the real world, or that there even is one.” Jon sighed. He didn't know exactly where he had planned on ending this. “I don't have any surefire ways of stopping it, but I can at least give you the comfort of a shared experience.” He looked at Martin, who was now looking straight at him, and smiled what hopefully didn't come across as a forced smile.
Martin seemed to be on the verge of tears again, but he just stared at Jon. More intense than ever before. “Thanks.” he breathed out. “T-that really um-” Martin looked down before continuing. “That really means a lot.” Jon found himself genuinely smiling at that. Comforting people, even himself, wasn't something he was used to doing. It felt nice that it worked out this time.
“Can I hug you?” Martin suddenly blurted out. It wasn't particularly loud, just jarring in the silence that preceded it. Jon must've been utterly exhausted, since he nodded almost immediately.
Martin was a good hugger. Jon had heard it from other people, mainly Tim. His not-so-subtle hints that Jon should “just try hugging Martin, just once” had gone to the point of being more than slightly annoying, but now he got it. Martin was warm and big and just- nice. He felt heavy like a big blanket without being suffocating. It honestly felt like Jon could hug Martin forever. But that was highly inappropriate between two coworkers, even ones who had shared their fears with each other moments prior, so Jon reluctantly pulled away. The air felt cold and way too empty, but he'd have to deal with it.
Jon stood up and walked to the door, but before he left, he looked back at Martin. He was no longer on the floor, slowly in the process of going to sleep again. He still seemed hesitant, still scared. Jon didn't want to leave him like that.
“…Martin?” The man perked up. “T-this may seem a tad forward, however I do not feel comfortable leaving you here all alone.” He stepped properly into the room. “I propose that I sleep in this room as well. Only if you want to, of- of course.” Jon slowly glanced up to gauge Martin's response. Martin was smiling. He smiled the warmest smile Jon had seen that day.
“Yes, Jon. I think I'd like that.”