[tma] scottish cabin chronicles
Post-MAG 159: Elias doesn't stop them. Nobody does.
Jon mulls this over stood in Martin's meagre flat. It's small, as expected: a single room but for a bathroom near the back. Jon watches Martin move around, hand clasped around a chair. They'd let go sometime after scrambling out of the taxi, when Martin had needed to fish in his pockets for keys. Jon feels oddly bereft without his grip. He's trying not to show it. It's strange to him, all of this. He usually likes his personal space.
He chalks it up to the Lonely. Some aspect of it still swimming in his blood, tugging at his bones, wanting to lure him back in. He watches Martin for some signal that he feels it too. The flat doesn't help matters—rife with a bachelor's untidiness, otherwise spartan. Martin's bed sits nestled in the back corner, no space wasted with access to both sides. It feels very intimate to be seeing all this. Jon should have pulled Martin out of this sooner, long before now.
- Part 1 of [tma] scottish cabin chronicles
Three weeks—or an eternity—in love and waiting in the Highlands.
- Part 2 of [tma] scottish cabin chronicles