lofi_charm | INBOX: Pumpkin Hollow

For the most part, things have been good in Martin Blackwood's world.

Since the opening of Blackwood Brews, which Martin put his entire time and effort into the casino to earn, things have been... well, as close to idyllic as Pumpkin Hollow would allow. There were demons and nightmares and all manner of problems, as usual, but the in between moments were nice. Martin can't remember a time in London since joining the Archives when things were nice. And for all he knows, Jon feels the same. He's not the most emotionally open man, surely, but... he seems happy.

At least until this strange letter arrives.

Martin reads through it once. Twice. Five times. Ten. It doesn't make sense, and yet makes all the sense in the world. Of course Jon has hidden issues he won't talk about, of course! Why wouldn't he! And of course he's talking to Neil about them.

If Martin were calm, he would see all the hints that don't line up. But he's not. He's devastated. And so he just keeps staring at it until Jon gets home.

Even with as scattered and fearful as Jon's been as of late, he's tried to maintain senses of normalcy.

Such normalcy involves trying to not let himself slip into the same habits he had back in the Archives; trips out to the market, visits with friends (that he struggles not to be especially guarded during), work without diverging into side-projects, anything he can do to try to make life feel stable as possible. Today's excursion was one of the same, a brief trek to the market, to grab some ins and odds for groceries.

All-in-all, the day's been a breath of fresh air, compared to some of his recent ones.

That is, of course, until he steps inside his home, finding Martin looking like he's received the worst news of his life.

"Martin?" He speaks up the second he's in the door, hurriedly setting the grocery bags aside. He's already abuzz with whatever might be the trouble, with a letter like that, stepping into the main area of their living room as quickly as he's able. "What's wrong? What's going on? Are you alright?"

Fog haunts the floor of the room, swallowing their feet in its thickness.

Martin looks up to him coldly, looking utterly drained, and the fog around them flares and roils. "I don't know, Jon. Maybe you should ask Neil." He shoves the letter into Jon's hands accusingly.

The letter crunches into Jon's palms for only a moment, before, equal parts alarmed and confused, he lifts it. No questions that race his thoughts are answered, try as he might to read it, over and over again, to glean any sort of understanding.

This is a conversation, certainly. It reads like Neil's writing, not too dissimilar the notes he'd seen around the office to himself. They've exchanged letters before, when he was sailing - this would easily have a place among them, from what he can catch at a glance. It's mid-conversation, a seemingly timely correspondence.

Jon doesn't know what any of that conversation could have been about.

"Wh--- Martin, I---" Jon sputters, lowering the paper. He gestures with it, wide and sweeping, disbelieving. "I don't know what this is about. I haven't spoken with Neil in--- months. Where did this come from?"

INBOX: Pumpkin Hollow

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject