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Absolutely Smitten

Chapter 5: Half As Sweet

Summary:

Martin rushed to the front counter, about to ask Sasha for the poem back so he could tear it up when Jon walked in through the door. He suppressed a terrified squeak. Sasha gave him a reassuring nudge, leaving him to fend for himself. He was about to snap at her, but Jon had walked up and Martin’s mind went blank.
Jon was wearing a loose gray button-up shirt with abstract eyes in various shades of blue and gray across it. Over it he wore a knee-length black dress with suspender-like straps. His hair was pulled back like it usually was with a dark red ribbon. Martin barely stumbled his way through a greeting, hoping desperately that Jon didn’t notice how flustered he was.

Notes:

Uhhhhh I should say something here probably but I'm Super Tired ngl :)) Enjoy I guess!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The next day held no opportunity to learn more about Jon, much to his chagrin. It was another dreary day and the clouds weighted Martin’s mood down and kept it there. It was a slow day, with him in the front and Georgie working in the kitchen. He felt his brain come a little more into focus when Daisy came in through the door.

“Daisy! Good to see you. Your hair looks nice.” He said as she approached. She nodded in acknowledgement.

“Thanks. Just bleached it again.”

“Nice. What can I get you?”

“Bacon and eggs. Tea.” She said.

“Coming right up.” He replied. Daisy nodded and retreated to a table. He scribbled down the order and handed it off to Georgie. As he slipped his pen back into his pocket, his hand brushed against his notebook. He glanced around. Nobody looked like they were coming up to the counter any time soon. He grabbed his notebook and pen and opened to the last page. He hadn’t made much progress since he texted Sasha.

Poetry of Martin K. Blackwood, #4

The world comes into focus under your eyes

Blurred backgrounds fading into obscurity

I wish to be the window you gaze upon

With such concentration

Anything for your focus to be turned on me

Mesmerizing eyes and fuzzy lines

Lines of gray in hair so fine

Something was missing from the end of it. Maybe he should rearrange something? And there was the repetition of ‘lines’ that Sasha had mentioned that didn’t sound very good.

The world comes into focus under your eyes

Blurred backgrounds fading into obscurity

I’d do anything for your focus to be turned on me

With such concentration

I wish to be the window you gaze upon

Mesmerizing eyes and fuzzy lines

Veins of gray in hair so fine

Your view brings me clarity

He frowned down at his notebook. Something still felt like it could be improved, but it was a better ending than before. He was about to try something new when Georgie handed a tray to him. He slammed his notebook shut and took the tray, face flushing. Georgie raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing. Martin walked over to where Daisy sat, in the corner next to the old jukebox. He set her food down and she gave a half-smile.

“Thanks. What were you writing?” She asked, taking a sip of her tea. Martin scratched his chin.

“O-Oh, nothing much, just, um.” He stammered while Daisy looked unimpressed.

“Martin.” She said sharply. He squeaked.

“P-Poetry. I’ve been writing poetry.”

“Hm,” She took another sip, “What sort of poetry?”

“Um.” He floundered. He did not want to tell Daisy Tonner that he was writing love poetry. 

Martin. ” She said. Her voice was low and she glared at him. He sighed.

“L-Love poetry. I swear it’s not what it sounds like, I’m just- I want to practice my poetry, and-”

“I’m not judging you,” Daisy took another sip, “I just wanted to know. I like romantic poetry.”

“You do?” Martin blinked in surprise. Daisy nodded. 

“Don’t talk about it much.”

“O-Oh! Well, if you do want to talk poetry sometime, let me know!” He smiled. Daisy nodded, a near imperceptible smile crossing her face.

“I’ll think about it. Good luck with writing.”

“Thank you! Enjoy your food.” He gave a little wave and left her table. He felt significantly better than he had earlier in the morning.

He brought out his notebook again and opened it. He felt inspired to write after the conversation with Daisy. He didn’t want to keep working on the other poem, so he flipped to a new page. 

Poetry of Martin K. Blackwood, #5

Curiosity piqued in the crease of your shoulder

The nod of your head as you watch

What would I have to do to answer my wonders

The taste of your name like butterscotch

He had to stop writing because the door of the diner opened and another customer came in. Quickly he tucked his notebook away and put on a smile. 

 

That evening he spent a lot more time working on both poems. He wrote and rewrote and rearranged until finally he ended up finishing the first one. He sent it to Sasha to get her opinion.

Marto: Got another poem!

The world comes into focus under your eyes

Blurred backgrounds fading into obscurity

I’d do anything for your focus to be turned on me

With such concentration

I wish to be the window you gaze upon

Or the ceramic in your hand as you watch

Mesmerizing eyes and fuzzy lines

Veins of gray in hair so fine

I could be the book bound tight at your fingers

Anything to keep your attention

I am scattered and yet

Your view brings me clarity

 

TheUnforgettable: MARTINNNNNN I LOVE IT!!!

 

Marto: THANK YOU!

 

TheUnforgettable: Look at you go!!

 

Marto: aaaaaaa

I have

Another one? Or part of it at least

 

TheUnforgettable: OOOO Can I see???

 

Marto: Sure! It’s unfinished tho

 

TheUnforgettable: No worries

 

Marto: Curiosity piqued in the crease of your shoulder

The nod of your head as you watch

What would I have to do to answer my wonders

The taste of your name like butterscotch

There’s stories held in the grip of your hand

‘Round a book and a pen and a sigh

Uncovered them slowly, pulling a strand

That’s it lmao I don’t have any more for this one :((((

 

TheUnforgettable: Ooooo!! I like the rhythm of this one. The food imagery is also very fitting, I think that would be a good avenue to go down

 

Marto: You’re so right!!! I’ll keep that in mind

Thank you so much

 

TheUnforgettable: Of course! Any time :)

 

A few days later, Martin handed off one of the finished poems to Sasha. She gave him a reassuring smile. He’d hoped that the second time around it would be less scary, but he was just as nervous as the first time. Every time he heard the door open, his stomach flipped. He started to worry as the morning passed. Jon hadn’t been to the diner in a few days, had he decided to stop coming? Oh god, was it because of the poems? Martin rushed to the front counter, about to ask Sasha for the poem back so he could tear it up when Jon walked in through the door. Martin suppressed a terrified squeak.

Sasha gave him a reassuring nudge,  leaving him to fend for himself. He was about to snap at her, but Jon had walked up and Martin’s mind went blank.

Jon was wearing a loose gray button-up shirt with abstract eyes in various shades of blue and gray across it. Over it he wore a knee-length black dress with suspender-like straps. His hair was pulled back like it usually was with a dark red ribbon. Martin barely stumbled his way through a greeting, hoping desperately that Jon didn’t notice how flustered he was. He didn’t seem to notice, returning his greeting and ordering. After he left to sit down, Martin took a moment to focus himself before dealing with his order.

 

Jon had almost been sucked back into his writing when a gentle clatter alerted him to the tray being placed at his table. He looked up and gave a half-smile when he saw Sasha holding his food.

“I’ve got something for you!” She said, holding out a folded piece of paper.

“Another poem?” He asked, unfolding it.

“Mhm.”

“Huh. Thank you.” In his periphery, he saw Sasha nod. She left, and Jon turned his full attention to the poem in his hands.

Curiosity piqued in the crease of your shoulder

The nod of your head as you watch

What would I have to do to answer my wonders

The taste of your name like butterscotch

There’s stories held in the grip of your hand

‘Round a book and a pen and a shake

Uncovered them slowly, pulling a strand

Melting like buttery cake

Your pages contain multitudes of

Words like chocolate frosting

Pulling me apart like taffy

I’m certain it’s exhausting

He suppressed a smile at all the comparisons to food. It was only fitting for poems from a diner, he supposed. It was certainly endearing, too. “Pulling me apart like taffy”, he thought that line was rather sweet(If you’ll excuse the pun). He glanced down at his own notebook and frowned. His work really wasn’t that interesting, but the mysterious poet seemed entranced by it. Perhaps it was the mystery of it for them, too. 

He tried to get back to work as he ate but his eyes kept being drawn back to the poem. Curiosity was bubbling in his chest, and he cast a glance around the diner, wondering if the poet was there. His gaze kept being drawn back to Martin for some reason. He was standing behind the counter, absently gazing at the door. 

A woman came in the door holding a few jars of something. She was short and had dyed purple curls. Martin perked up when he saw her, a grin spreading across his face. Jon frowned; he was pretty sure he’d seen the woman working in the kitchen before, but he didn’t know her name. He watched as she went up to Martin and held out a jar to him. Jon could more or less make out what she was saying from across the diner.

“I just made so much, I couldn’t possibly eat all of it by myself.”

“Thank you! I didn’t know you made butterscotch sauce.” Martin took the jar gratefully. Jon blinked. He listened more intently.

“I just kind of got inspired, y’know? Maybe it was the diner,” She laughed, “Butterscotch feels homey.”

“I know what you mean.” Martin nodded. The woman went behind the counter, likely to give some of the other jars to employees. 

Jon clutched the poem in his hands a little tighter. Was it just a coincidence that she’d made butterscotch sauce, or could she be the one behind the poems? He craned his neck, trying to catch another glimpse of her, but he couldn’t without being incredibly obvious. He folded the poem back up neatly, somewhat excited to have a potential culprit to the mystery of the poems. Of course, it could be someone else, but just the possibility made his heart skip a beat.

 

Martin happily made himself a bowl of ice cream and drizzled the butterscotch sauce on it when he got home. It was ironic how he’d written about butterscotch(albeit briefly) in his poem and the universe decided to give him some. He hardly minded; he loved butterscotch. 

As he ate, he pulled his notebook from his pocket and flipped back to the other poem he’d finished. He was really happy with it, he decided. It would be the next he’d give to Jon. His stomach fluttered at the thought of it. The nerves he got when he watched Jon read his writing had gone from agonizing to almost bearable in an endearing way. Of course he longed to sit down with Jon while he read them and ask what he thought. He wanted Jon to know it was him, know how he felt, even if the thought terrified him at the same time.

He wanted to talk to Jon about what he was writing. Did he like to read as well? Did he read poetry? Where else did he like to spend his time? What was his job, why was his boss so dramatic, what did he do in his free time? He looked like the type of man to spend time in a library. 

Martin could picture him running his hands along the shelves, looking for an ancient book to read. Sitting down with it, long fingers running lines over old pages. Tucking hair behind his ear. And then Martin pictured himself there, too, covering Jon’s hand with his own. Or maybe he was the one to brush Jon’s hair back. Maybe Jon leaned into his touch, maybe they weren’t in a library anymore. They were leaving, on an empty train car, Martin’s hands still in Jon’s hair. Maybe Jon was kissing him-

Martin blushed, taking another bite of his ice cream. It was all hypothetical, he had no idea if Jon liked libraries. Or if he liked his hair touched. Or if he wanted to kiss Martin. Probably not, but a man could dream.

Notes:

Thanku for reading! I do wanna say one thing:
I'm trying to work evenly on all my various projects, but I have a lot of fics and comics in the works and it's hard to keep them all updated consistently. I've also recently taken on some pretty big responsibilities relating to all the stuff going on in the world rn, so I'm spread kinda thin.
I will do my best to keep this updated frequently, as well as other fic(s) that I've started or have been planning. Things may be slower, but I'm still writing! Anyway, thanks for sticking with me :D
(Also the next chapter is Chunky, as a treat)