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Jon had to go. He had to go. The others were waiting outside, and he had a train to catch, and the world was going to end, apparently, if he didn't. He had to go.

He made himself turn towards the door, steadfastly not looking at Martin as he pulled his hand away, trying to ignore how cold it felt, how alone it was without Martin's in it. He could still hear Martin's stifled sobs behind him. He was trying to keep them quiet, Jon could tell, but that only served to make Jon's heart ache.

He had to go. But Martin was crying, and Jon didn't want to leave him like that. He didn't want to leave him at all. He could still feel the ghost of Martin's lips on his own, so achingly soft and sweet, mixed with the taste of salt from his tears. Jon's heart, always so weak, kept pulling him back, Don't leave him, don't leave that beautiful man now, when he's crying for you.

Jon had to go. But he wanted Martin.

Before he could reach the door, Jon turned around, stepped across the impossible gap between them, and nearly threw himself back into Martin's arms. Martin let out a cry but held Jon fast, and he stared down at Jon in surprise, tears still stuck in his eyes but no longer falling.

Jon didn't have any words. Instead he surged back up and kissed Martin again, tasting nothing but salt on his chapped lips. He felt Martin's chest shudder against his in a soundless sob, and then Martin's arms were pulling him closer, so comfortingly tight around him, strong and perfect and all that Jon wanted in the world. Jon threw his arms around Martin's neck as their lips met again and again, kisses pressed haphazardly on cheeks and noses and closed eyes, and to Jon it seemed like every breath they managed in between was a mantra of Don't go don't go don't go don't go.

Eventually, they slowed and quieted, Martin still sniffling slightly, but at least tears were no longer flowing. Jon kept himself pressed close, though, Martin's arms still locked around him, as though daring anything out there to separate them. He could feel Martin's heartbeat through his soft jumper, slow and steady, and Jon tried to match his breathing to it, tried to imagine they were somewhere else, with no doorways or train schedules or apocalyptic responsibilities.

"I have to go," Jon said, slowly, but he didn't move from Martin's arms. I love you, he wanted to say, but he couldn't find the breath.

He felt Martin press a kiss to the top of his head, in response. When Jon looked up into his face, his eyes were red, but his lips were curved in a bittersweet smile. Jon pressed one last bruising kiss to them, trying to make Martin know how much Jon adored him. And then, slowly, Martin opened his arms, and let Jon go.