Chapter Text
The studio lights were dimmed low, most of the room swallowed by shadows.
James sat hunched on the couch, elbows on his knees, fingers loosely tangled together. His phone lay face-down beside him, screen dark. He hadn’t touched it in a while.
Martin noticed immediately.
He always did.
He set his laptop aside and crossed the room, movements unhurried so he wouldn’t startle him. James didn’t look up when Martin stopped in front of him.
“Hey,” Martin said softly.
James shrugged. “Hey.”
It wasn’t convincing.
Martin sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders touched this time; no hesitation, no space left unexplained. James stiffened for half a second, then sagged slightly, like he’d been holding himself upright for too long.
The music playing through the speakers was low and hazy, something slow that filled the room without demanding anything from it.
“You’ve been quiet,” Martin said.
James let out a breath that sounded tired. “Didn’t think it mattered.”
Martin turned his body toward him fully, knee brushing James’s. “It does to me.”
That earned a small, tired smile; the kind James only wore when he didn’t have the energy to pretend.
He leaned back against the couch, head tipping slightly to rest against the cushion. His eyes stayed on the ceiling, unfocused.
“I’m fine,” he said automatically.
Martin didn’t call him out on it. He just reached out and gently tugged the sleeve of James’s hoodie down over his hand, grounding him in something real.
“You don’t have to be,” Martin said quietly.
The words hung there.
James swallowed.
The city outside the studio window hummed faintly, distant and indifferent. Inside, everything felt slower; like time had been turned down just for them.
“I get tired of being the strong one,” James admitted. His voice was low, almost embarrassed. “I don’t even know when it started feeling like that was my job.”
Martin’s chest tightened.
He shifted closer, his arm settling around James’s shoulders; not tight, not possessive. Just there. Solid. “You don’t owe anyone that,” Martin said. “Especially not me.”
James’s head tipped sideways, resting against Martin’s shoulder before he could second-guess it. The contact was careful, like he was asking permission without words.
Martin stayed still.
Then, slowly, he lifted his other hand and rested it against James’s upper arm, thumb brushing once; absentminded, soothing.
James exhaled, long and unguarded.
The tension in his shoulders eased, inch by inch, like he was finally letting himself be held together instead of holding himself up.
“I don’t say this enough,” James murmured, eyes closed now, “but… thank you. For noticing.”
Martin’s jaw tightened slightly. He leaned his head against James’s, forehead just barely touching