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Jon almost enjoyed the admin work.
It was peaceful. Quiet. Just him and pointless spreadsheets and double-checking meaningless numbers that he already knew were correct. Jon once possessed a strong work ethic and a deep need to please his bosses, but no more. Nowadays he couldn't care less what his superiors thought of his work. There was no one to care. It had been nearly two weeks since Jon last saw Peter, a deliberate choice on Peter’s part. Reflecting on it, Jon realised he hadn't truly interacted with anyone in a meaningful way during that time. He avoided the rest of the institute’s staff. Jon had even stopped greeting cashiers at stores, and his neighbours did not seem to see him when he passed them on the staircase. Had they ever truly noticed him? If he’d disappear, how long would it take for anyone to notice? Months probably. Perhaps when his mailbox would overflow with bills, someone would wonder where he went. There were no guarantees of even that.
All of this should have been deeply concerning, but Jon found it comfortable. That also should have worried him, but it did not. There was tranquil peace in being functionally invisible.
He had always been alone.
It was a boring story. Jon was an orphan raised by a grandmother who wished she hadn’t been saddled with such a burden. His last genuine human connections were an ex-girlfriend from uni who no longer spoke to him and a work friend who passed away harboring deep resentment towards him. It was nothing to write home about. People tended to find him strange and off-putting. When Jon had been younger, he had struggled with his difficulties with connecting with other people, now he embraced it. Isolating himself was so much easier than trying to make himself understood to people who were keen on misunderstanding him. It felt almost silly that he had tried to fight the Lonely for so long.
The clock struck six in the evening. Jon had set up an alarm, and still he was startled. He had not noticed the day pass by, time as a concept had so little meaning to him anymore. The hours, days, weeks, all blended together in a shapeless gray blur. Nothing mattered anymore. He closed his battered old laptop and stored it in his bag. Jon put on his jacket and left the room. As peaceful as it was in the small, solitary office, he was not working a minute overtime. Peter paid him well, but not that well. And in any case, money had very little meaning to him these days. He had no future worth saving money for.
To his great disappointment, someone was in the corridor leading to the grand front door. Two someones. Jon was unsure how he knew that without seeing anyone, but he knew. To avoid having to meet them even in passing, he turned around and headed for another exit. He walked softly to avoid making any sound which could draw anyone’s attention. It was late enough that there weren’t too many people in the Institute anymore, which suited him fine. The thought of having to engage in small talk made him nauseous. Jon considered emailing Peter and asking if he could work remotely. Peter probably would be pleased, and if not, Jon could suggest he’d work a night shift.
As he was thinking of this, too pleased with his own cleverness, his focus faltered and he momentarily dropped his guard. As he turned the corner to the back exit, he heard another set of footsteps trailing closely behind him. With deep resentment and dread, Jon turned around.
He was not at all surprised to see Martin standing there. With an awkward shuffle and his trademark apologetic expression, Martin moved to block Jon’s escape route. It was easy for him to do so as he was at least twice the size of Jon. Generally Jon found this a very attractive trait, but now it was inconvenient. At least Martin did not aim to intimidate, he didn’t have it in him. He had never known what to do with his bulk. Now Martin fidgeted nervously with the strap of his cross-body bag, clearly posing no danger to Jon.
In a way, Jon wished he were in physical danger. That at least would have been simple. He had not seen Martin in a long, long time. It had been very difficult for him at first, but he had grown accustomed to it, but now Martin just had to go and make it difficult again. Deep irritation rose in Jon. He regretted not meeting the two strangers by the front door, they wouldn't have mattered in the way that Martin did. No one mattered like Martin did. Jon bit his lip hard enough to draw blood and refused to be the first one to say anything. Martin continued to fidget with his bag, but Jon stared stubbornly toward the general direction of Martin’s shoes until Martin spoke.
“Hi, Jon,” Martin said. His voice was unsure and timid, which was almost funny since he had been the one to organise this ambush. He always had such a small voice for such a big man.
“Good evening, Martin,” Jon replied through gritted teeth. It was hard to remain polite. Perhaps he should relapse into his old cruelty. Maybe that would be enough to remind Martin that his kindness was wasted on Jon.
There was a pause in the conversation. Awkward silences were not new for Jon, but he resented this one. Perhaps there just was not anything else to be said. For whatever reason, Jon let himself stop looking at Martin’s shoes, dirty trainers, and look up at the man properly.
He looked well. Jon had always found him very handsome. Sure, Martin currently was a bit pale, even paler than usual, and underslept, but not at all like a man who had been in a coma for half a year. The sight of his unmoving, unbreathing body was permanently etched into Jon’s mind. He had cried for so many hours in front of that body. The memory strengthened Jon’s resolve. He crossed his arms in front of his body as a defensive gesture.
Martin cleared his throat, trying to find something to say. Jon did not help him.
“How have you been? Martin asked. It was a pathetic start to the conversation, and yet Jon could not bring himself to leave.
“Fine,” Jon replied curtly.
“Look, I know you’ve been,” Martin faltered, concluding with a feeble, “busy.”
Martin paused again, and it took all Jon had not to break. He wanted to reach out and touch Martin. He wanted to tell Martin all about Peter’s plan and the arrangement they had made. He wanted to cry. Despite how acute it was, Jon’s misery clearly was not visible. Jon had never been good with facial expressions. Martin scratched at the back of his neck awkwardly before continuing.
“I just wanted to let you know that if you ever need anything, I’m here for you. Okay?” Martin said.
The barely audible “okay” was quiet and frankly pathetic. It made Jon’s heart ache. Weirdly enough, he had forgotten he still had a heart that could ache like that. He had gotten so comfortable in the gray and foggy nothingness that he had forgotten how it felt to feel. He had not missed it. Feelings were unfortunate and painful.
Okay,” Jon echoed weakly.
This was not a satisfactory answer. Martin’s timid yet hopeful expression darkened into something sad. Jon wished nothing more than to clear all that doubt from Martin’s face, but he held his tongue. Too much was riding on his connection to the Lonely for him to break now. Despite this, Martin’s expression changed again. He saw something too much in Jon’s face.
It shouldn’t have surprised Jon that Martin noticed. Martin always noticed. He was a watchful person. He was twitchy, skittish and overly careful, but always watchful. Martin was the one to over-analyse everyone’s actions and moods down to the minute detail. This behavior clearly stemmed from some childhood trauma that Jon frankly did not want to know about. It would be difficult not to feel close to Martin if Jon knew too much of his past. Even without any clear context, it was no surprise to Jon that the Eye favored Martin. Just like Jon was made for the Lonely, Martin was made for the Beholding.
“I should not be talking to you,” Jon said.
It was a weird and abrupt thing to say, but it was undeniably true. He should not be talking to anyone, least of all to Martin. Jon panicked a little that he was undoing all his progress with this unimportant little chat. Jon did not know how exactly this worked, but if any one person could undo it all with a few words, it was Martin. It was such a frightening thought.
“I know,” Martin said with a sad little nod and for some reason, Jon resented his understanding. He dropped his gaze back to Martin’s shoes.
“I’ll take my leave now,” Jon said.
He forced himself to move with the confidence he did not possess. He had to leave before he did or said something he’d regret. Or worse, something that he would not regret. He knew he could kiss Martin here and now, undo all the well-thought-out plans against the Extinction with it and not regret a thing. It was rotten to know his convictions weren’t all that strong. Jon moved with mechanical precision, with his eyes at the door.
As expected, Martin did not attempt to block his exit again.