The Weekend Arrangement

Brick by Brick We Build it Together

"JESUS CHRIST"

The yell from upstairs was loud enough to startle Jon all the way in the kitchen. It was followed almost immediately by a shivering, towel clad Martin stalking into said kitchen, water dripping forlornly down his chest and off his hair. There's an accusatory finger pointed in Jon's direction.

"How? HOW? How in god's name is there no HOT WATER Jon? Where does it all GO? How can one man use so much hot water?"

Jon knows the answer. This morning he had woken up with a nagging, lingering headache and in the shower he had... drifted. Jon hadn't even really been aware of how long he had been in there until the water had started to grow chilly.

He's better now, so much better than he used to be. He and Martin have been living together for well over a month, and have generally settled into an easy, settled existence. Sleep and happiness and the stability has quieted so much of the noise in his head he had grown so used to living with.

But... sometimes; a doubt, a fear, a nightmare he couldn't shake... something , will send Jon spiralling and he's unable to pull himself out of it. He should just apologise, admit he had used too much and had been selfish and forgetful in not telling Martin to wait until the heater had filled back up.

Jon does not do this.

Maybe it's the remnants of the headache that survived the painkillers, maybe it's something mean and petty innate in him, maybe it's just his residual discomfort with being so close to another person. Even though it's Martin ; he still sometimes feels lingering moments of fear at being so open and vulnerable with anyone. Maybe there are a LOT of poor reasons and no good ones for him to snap, but this morning he does.

" Me ? I may have used too much hot water but I'm not the one who leaves the towels all bunched up on the bar. They don't dry out right and start smelling sour."

It comes out as more of a roar than Jon meant it to be, but now it's out there and Jon catches the hurt look on Martin's face.

Martin wasn't even all that angry about the water. It had been shocking when instead of warming, the lukewarm shower had instead chilled rapidly, dumping a freezing deluge on his head; but he wasn't really angry about it so much as annoyed.

He's been trying to get used to this- to living with Jon. He loves Jon, loves waking up with him and falling asleep next to him; loves the quiet evenings curled together on the sofa reading or watching a movie and the hectic mornings before work. It was all just so much. Even when he still lived with his mother, Martin spent more time alone than anything- it's a tidal shift for him to be so near another person so often. He still isn't exactly sure how to navigate it all- isn't sure how to approach the small grievances without sounding demanding, so he's been trying to let those irritations go.

Martin shouldn't have come downstairs yelling, but Jon would burn through the entire tank's worth of hot water multiple times a week; and the cold shock had been the breaking point that led to the bubbled over outrage. He had thought maybe presenting his side a bit more forcefully would get him an apology and a promise from Jon to be more conservative with his use going forward. He was not expecting to be yelled at in return, and standing in the kitchen cold and wet and mostly nude he couldn't stop his irritable retort.

And so, Martin decides to snap back.

"If they smell sour it's because you never move the laundry from the washer to the dryer with any sense of haste. You left a set of sheets in there for two days, Jon. TWO DAYS."