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[corkscrewed]

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[epistemological]

[ There's a pause before-]

You said when you came that you'd just gone off for a walk.

Was that because I'd just gotten a box of statements?

[corkscrewed]

Yes? That's right. Wanted to give you a bit of privacy. Sounds like we've lined up?

[epistemological]

Close to.

I'm from just after you get back.

[corkscrewed]

That's good. :)

What were you thinking for dinner tonight?

[epistemological]

What would you like for dinner?

[corkscrewed]

Dunno. Just woke up from a nap, feeling a little hungry.

Did I see any good cows, btw? :)

[epistemological]

They're all good cows.

Did you have breakfast?

[corkscrewed]

Just some orange juice. Are you working?

[epistemological]

No. I'm at Hilda's.

[corkscrewed]

You shouldn't be texting me while you're visiting her x

[epistemological]

I thought you should know

[ Then, after many MANY ( . . . )'s]

Okay.

[corkscrewed]

[ ... okay, THAT'S a little weird. ]

Jon?

[epistemological]

Yes, Martin?

[corkscrewed]

What's bothering you? I saw you typing.

Was it a bad statement?

[epistemological]

[ He actually has to bite his own hand not to let out the most awful sort of barking laugh.

More ( . . .)'s, this time for almost a full minute. Finally.]

Yes.

Not here.

I'll explain just not like this.

[corkscrewed]

Oh.


Well, I'll be home.

[epistemological]

I'll be home soon.

Don't-

[ No, THAT is bullshit.]

I'm all right.

[corkscrewed]

[ well, now he's fucking terrified. ]

I'll put the kettle on.

[epistemological]

I love you.

I'll head there now.

[corkscrewed]

I love you, Jonathan Sims.

[epistemological]

[ The only bright spot he has is the fact that he knows, at least, that Martin won't change his mind after he knows what happened.

He knocks on the door, even though it's his own flat. He just wants to give Martin a chance to prepare once he's there. ]

[corkscrewed]

[ martin opens the door, sort of assuming that it's going to be a guest, but- ]

Jon?

[ he reaches out, moving to guide him in. ]

[epistemological]

[ Martin knows what it looks like when Jon wants to curl up in his arms. There's a particular lean to him, a way that he seems to try and catch the residual body warmth left behind.

But usually, once they're in their flat, he'd just do it. Now, he holds back. Swallows. Makes sure the door is closed.]

The statement was from Eli-Jonah.

And it was... a trap.

[ Much like the last two and a half years of his life.]

[corkscrewed]

Fuck.

[ whispered, immediate. he's reaching out to take jon's wrists, pulling him closer. ]

What did he want? What did he do?

[epistemological]

[ He doesn't pull away. He lets Martin take them, swaying a little as his eyes close tight.]

What do any of them want, Martin?

Only he... figured out how to do it.

Through me.