The look that Martin shoots him is baffled and possibly a little offended. "What? No, I'm not alright. Of course I'm not alright." He sits up, taking in a breath that is honestly a little shuddery. "You left me, Jon. You left and I - I thought you were gone. That you were for real gone. Because why else would you leave without a note, what could make you just- disappear for days. Where would you go."
He scrubs at his eye with the heel of his hand, his throat thick.
"Or I thought- maybe someone had captured you. Maybe you were being tortured for information, and here I was, having a cheese sandwich for lunch and pretending like things were fine, because- because I didn't know what else to do. How else to be. So no, Jon, I'm not okay, it's going to take me a while to be okay again, if that's- okay with you."
He hates this, the bitterness, the upset, wishes that he could just stow them all away and just relish in appreciation of the fact that Jon was back. Injured, yes, but not dead.
no subject
He scrubs at his eye with the heel of his hand, his throat thick.
"Or I thought- maybe someone had captured you. Maybe you were being tortured for information, and here I was, having a cheese sandwich for lunch and pretending like things were fine, because- because I didn't know what else to do. How else to be. So no, Jon, I'm not okay, it's going to take me a while to be okay again, if that's- okay with you."
He hates this, the bitterness, the upset, wishes that he could just stow them all away and just relish in appreciation of the fact that Jon was back. Injured, yes, but not dead.