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Martin feels the waves of shame radiating form the corner of the room before he sees what’s left of his love. When his eyes finally lock on to the man slumped in the corner, his blood boils, Jail wasn’t enough, he made a mental note to kill Elias later but right now he needed to focus on the more pressing matter of helping the broken man before him.
Jon is chained tightly to the wall, shoulders trembling from the strain of being kept in position for so long, his head slowly rises, shaking with the effort of it, sunken eyes meet eyes bright with tears, martin claps his hand over his mouth as fresh waves of shame roll from the archivist, pushing martin backwards, almost knocking him off his feet.
Jon was really panicking now, Martin couldn’t see him like this, was this his next punishment? God Elias was really stepping up his game, he had to spare his love the horror of this. “Don’t look at me,” static crackled as he winced with the command. Before the compulsion even wore off Martin was running towards Jon, keys at the ready. An almost imperceptible look of absolute betrayal flashes across Jon’s face before he carefully schools it back into a neutral expression. So Martin was in on it. He averts his eyes, partially as a show of submission, partially to hide the tears. “Sorry,” best apologize to avoid further punishment. White hot pins and needles prickle through his arms like static as he’s unchained and the blood comes rushing back to body parts that should've long since withered but couldn’t seam to die, despite this, he diligently holds his tortured wrists out in front of him, ready to be rebound, he couldn’t be trusted.
Martin is fully weeping now as he presses his forehead to Jon’s, their tears mingling, and in that moment Jon’s perspective shifts, he sees how terrible he looks, but it’s nothing like when he's forced to look through Elias. Through Martin's eyes he still looks a wreck but oh, so human. He sees every tiny detail of himself through a lens of such devotion, feels the care swell up inside martin as he takes in the bags under Jon's sunken eyes, his rubbed raw wrists, every scar calling like a siren song to be nurtured. The carefully crafted image Elias had worked so meticulously to build shatters, splintering through Jon's mind as he breaks.
“oh god I’m sorry, Jon I’m sorry, are you ok?” Jon is shivering and sobbing, watery breaths hitching in his throat, overwhelmed by the sheer amount love he felt coursing through him. Martin quickly runs towards the bag he brought.
“M-Martin” the first words he’s spoken in such a long time, his voice horse from under-use. Martin is there at his side immediately, wrapping a blanket around Jon, holding him close, grounding him, “shhh, it’s going to be ok, I’m here now, I’m here to take you home.”
“but Elia-”
“is in jail.” he left it at that for now, they could discus murder plans later when Jon was in better condition.
A shiver of relief took Jon’s body as he openly wept into Martin's warm embrace, who held him tight, placing gentle kisses into his hair as he carried the love of his life away from hell.