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Martyn wasn’t supposed to even worry about packing until a couple months from now. Certainly not having to fly into Crossover early and instead of being greeted by one of his best friends, be greeted by an empty coffin.
At least it wasn’t Emerald’s funeral, Martyn thought, staring ahead at the filled rows in front of him. He didn’t think he could handle it. Not with all the people weeping over Ren’s mask, just a persona of who he was. They didn’t know him, know anything about him save that stupid costume, about that stupid persona he erected. He was lucky Ren’s family reached out to him at all, otherwise he wouldn’t even know he was dead for another week. He would have had to spend another week sending increasingly worried texts to someone who would never get the chance to read them.
It wasn’t fair, Martyn wanted to scream. Ren was too good for this, he didn’t deserve his body never being found, to never be buried. He didn’t though, not with Jimmy’s steady presence at his side. Ren’s family didn’t need that either, no matter how shattered he felt, not when his brother was barely standing and he’d watched his parents sob anytime they tried to speak.
He stood up after a long silence. Ren would have hated it, he never could stand the silence. He was always moving, always making some kind of noise, even online his mic never managed to suppress his fidgeting. The light thump of his tail against whatever surface he sat at, the soft humming as he went about a task, even the jarring camera movement as he tapped his fingers repeatedly against his phone while he was thinking.
Jimmy followed, a soft wing tucked around his shoulder guiding him toward the door when it became clear he wasn’t about to start moving.
It didn’t feel right. To get up and leave even if the service was already over, he was half expecting someone to stop him. But no one kept them from leaving, no one even batted an eye at their hasty exit. As soon as they made it out it felt like he could breathe again, without the suffocating feel of Ren’s absence, not a trace of him even at his own funeral. And with it came the tears once more.
“Fuck,” Martyn let out, scrubbing harshly at his eyes.
At his side, he heard Jimmy coo worriedly. Tucking him further under his wing like a newborn fledgling. Something he hadn’t done since they were kids. Back when Jimmy’s wings still had his downy feathers and Martyn hadn’t started his Dreams. When they were hiding from Martyn’s parents yelling, when Jimmy needed to escape the emptiness of his own house.
He let him lead him back to the car, allowing himself to get placed in the passenger’s seat. Martyn couldn’t drive on a normal day, much less in his current state. As Jimmy drove, he watched as his own vision blurred, images hazing together despite his contacts. he loosened his grip on his own body, letting autopilot guide him.
Somewhere along the way, they left the car and made it up through Jimmy and Scott’s apartment building, where he was crashing on their couch. When he came back to himself, it was to something cold being pressed into his hand. He blinked, registering the distant traffic and lights, clear views of the closed curtains of other people’s flats. They were sitting on the roof edge, a drink in his hand, a soft wing over back.
“You back?” Jimmy asked from his side, his legs dangling over the railing.
“Why are we on the roof?” Martyn questioned instead. He still felt disconnected, mechanical in his motions but the ache in his chest was dulled.
“Thought you could use some fresh air,” He replied, sipping from his own drink, some off brand soda, the same as his. Wiping at his mouth and setting it next to him. “You were way out of it, Scott said a drink might help. With the taste and temperature and all that.”
He only hummed, tasting the familiar beverage. “Thanks,” He added.
Jimmy simply nodded, watching him out of the corner of his eye. “You wanna talk about what’s going on up in there?”
“His funeral was today, what do you think?” Martyn snapped, sounding more tired than angry, even to himself.
“Sorry.”
He blew out a breath, fiddling with the can tab. “I think it clicked.”
Jimmy didn’t respond, only turned his gaze out onto the city beneath and Martyn took another swig of his can, resting his elbows on his knees, swinging his legs idly.
“He’s actually gone,” Martyn finished softly.
Jimmy’s wing found itself around his shoulders. With his free hand, Martyn pet the yellow feathers, more to soothe himself with the soft texture rather than Jimmy.
“Have you Dreamed about it at all?” Jimmy asked quietly.
“You think I would’ve just let him die if I had? No. Not about this Tim.” Martyn answered, sighing as he dragged a hand through his wing. “I haven’t had one in weeks. I couldn’t make sense of the last one.”
They went quiet, except for the constant rumble of the city below them.
“It was their fault.” Martyn spat after an lengthy silence. “I know it was. No one gets crushed under a building already cleared out and monitored as an accident. Mad King wasn’t anywhere near that place, too busy with Seraph. This was planned.”
“Emerald– Ren was one of the best. Why would they kill him? What did he do?” Jimmy asked, thinking out loud.
“Things are changing in the HOC,” Martyn said, knocking his head back to look up at the sky, starless and hazy from light pollution. “For the first time,they have permission to kill instead of capture. Ren’s gotta be the justification.”
“What do you want to do about it?” Jimmy asked, standing, something dark flickering beneath his gaze.
“I’m going to burn that place to the fucking ground.”
“Well, let’s get started,” Jimmy grinned, his teeth looking too sharp in the dim city light and offered him his hand.
Martyn took it, allowing him to pull him up, and returned it with a grin of his own. He may not have been thinking clearly, but he was too angry to care. He had someone to avenge. “You’re with me?”
“You think I’m letting you do this without me?” He asked, raising a eyebrow. “How could I not be, dude?”
“Then let’s be villains.”