Izna

a quiet beat passes, and MARTIN'S able to take in the sight of you. your hair is perfect, as always, and your makeup is flawless, even at the end of the day. you were unattainable. people at school wished and dreamed of either being you or having you.

so what do you have to do with MARTIN of all people? he asks himself that question every day.

MARTIN is, to put it simply, an outsider. people don't look twice as they pass, and they never give him a second thought. he has a few friends, one guy in his class, two in the year below, and then someone who graduated a year ago. but these people, they were it. group projects never lead to new friendships, passing words by the lockers never matter in the long run.

so he took pride in these people, these few guys that cared and showed it. barely two weeks after he met juhoon, the guy in his class, they decided to kickstart a small band from their shared love of music. juhoon on drums and MARTIN on mic and guitar.

two weeks later, juhoon introduced him to two friends who were a year younger, and they were quick to join the band. james kind of just melted into the band eventually, being a neighbor of MARTIN'S, he constantly overheard their rehearsals in his garage. he'd walk up the driveway, saying something like, "I had some leftover cookies I thought you guys might want," and after a few weeks, it turned into him picking up a guitar and playing with.

MARTIN felt as if he had achieved something. he now had somewhere to belong: his overflowing garage, with instruments, amps, and a few wonderfully weird people.

so he'd go from quiet conversations with juhoon at the back of math class to loud beats of music and echoing lyrics. for once, life was a little airy, going from secluded and ignored to having a part he loved and loved him.

and then, you came along. you lived on the same street, MARTIN knew this. back when you were kids, the two of you would even play in the streets from time to time. but as time passed, and social constructs grew in your teenage years, your mellow contact broke; waves in the hallways and gentle smiles came to a halt.

you were never close, but it hurt MARTIN a little to have to go from sheepish waves to nothing. but life goes on, and he learned to let it go, let you stay unattainable.

you didn't think much of him, that is, until that one day. you'd been cramming in study time at the school library for what felt like an eternity. the sun shone encouragingly at first and began to set when you decided to call it a day. chemistry was screwing you sideways, and of course, the teacher was a punishment sent from hell, so you were stuck teaching yourself the syllabus the day before the exam.

you ended up packing up at around 5pm, approximately five hours after your classes ended. your last lesson had been canceled, and instead of your usual departure to the corner shop or hanging out in the courtyard with your group of girl friends, you decided to make camp in a pile of chemistry books and notes, and the sterile light of your laptop.

your friends had laughed, dragged you by the arm towards the exit in protest, but you insisted, and, with a sigh, they left you to your misery as they celebrated their early end to school.

when you finally collected your things, defeated by the pain that is chem, it was too late to go to the corner shop and too late to find any of your friends still available. so you retorted to going home. you took the bus to the closest stop, but it still made your walk home ten minutes.

this walk was often relaxing, a way to start your morning or end your school day, but now, it feels like a death sentence. each step takes more and more out of you. the sky's turned beautifully orange and purple, the spring ─nearly summer─ sun shining everything in comforting tones. but you can't find any energy to actually appreciate the warmth.

the day had defeated you, you're tired, you feel clammy, and you yearn for the shower waiting for you at home.

so what could possibly put you in the position you're in now? stopped dead in your tracks; unmoving, mesmerized.

MARTIN, that's who. the sun hits him in a way that makes his blond-dyed hair golden and his dark brown eyes shine. he's pretty; painted nails strumming his electric guitar, lips close, intimate with the microphone; the mic stand stretched tall to reach him.

you remember him, of course, you do. the boy who'd always come up running to you with the brightest smile on those warm summer days when you two and a couple of the other neighborhood kids would swim and play around in your pool. the boy who'd always share his pocket money with you so you could also buy a popsicle when the ice cream truck came around.

he's sweet, he always has been. but when reputation and standards caught up, letting people go felt non-optional. MARTIN came with that "non-negotiable" ruling, and your friends convinced you not to care. and you haven't cared, not for five years, but now, when you're witnessing him at his best, it's hard not to look away. he's effortless in his strumming and plucking of the guitar; he's cool and natural with the mic that's nearly touching his lips.

you're not the first to stop and stare. a whole crowd has formed in his driveway, clapping in rhythm, and a few shouting the lyrics with MARTIN. he looks so happy, so in his element.

you don't join the crowd; you're too intimidated to, you stay on the sidewalk, a good few meters away from the ordeal. but you stay, you stay for the entire show. over the thirty minutes they play, they don't miss a single time. every song gets the crowd hyped, gets people singing, dancing, and applauding.

MARTIN is quiet, from what you've seen nowadays anyway. soft-spoken in class, on the low-key in hallways. but here, he's loud and catches everyone's attention with as much as a striking smile and an encouraging shout. time passes quickly with his on-stage charm, and after he lands his last chord with a confident strum, he says his thank yous as people start filtering out with newly found smiles and pleased ears.

you however, you're stuck, you can't bring yourself to move, to leave. the crowd grows thin, and the people who once blocked your appearance have left. you ─in your school uniform, imperfect hair, and a mountain of textbooks in your hands─ still stand on the pavement, teetering on the edge of his driveway. you stand out like a sore thumb against the astray people dressed in black and studs.

MARTIN spots you. spots you in your pretty white blouse and plaid skirt, that somehow manages to look better, different on you than on everyone else. you and your ─in his eyes─ perfect hair, holding a pile of school work tight to your chest.

time doesn't slow, sparks don't fly; it's rather clumsy. shivers of shock rush through him at the sight of you, and in his flabbergastment, he drops his guitar, the neck bumps into a cable, tearing it from its socket in the amplifier. feedback screeches for a few seconds at the commotion, echoing and causing the rest of the band to shout annoyances.

"sorry," MARTIN insists, picking up his fallen guitar.

when he starts making his way over, hand grasping his guitar, your body yells at you to move, to leave before you do anything you'll regret, but you're suddenly face-to-face, and it's too late to flee.

when he's close enough, you truly realize how much older the two of you have gotten, because he towers over you, and he's no longer dressed in playfully colorful clothes or wearing hairclips his sister dressed him in.

you see him in the hallways from time to time, his glasses and painted nails, but the fact has never clicked in your head. you realize that MARTIN'S not stuck in some memory in your head. he's real and there.

"you play," is all you can get out, the first words you've spoken to him in five years, and he chuckles, sounding embarrassed.

"yeah, I do," he says sheepishly, glancing down at his red guitar.

"you were great," you say. he smiles, looking down at you.

"we, uhm," he stutters, pointing back to the garage with the guys tidying up and grabbing cans of soda from a red cooler. "this's our first gig, kinda," he laughs awkwardly. he leans his guitar on his shoe so he doesn't have to hold all its weight. "we were playing and people sorta just gathered y'know."

you find yourself smiling. "really?" he glances at your eyes, but looks away after a second. "that's.." you lose your words, the thought of your group's voices taunting you. they make fun of people like MARTIN, the glasses-wearing, note-taking, alone-sitting somebodies that are so easy to ignore and even easier to point and laugh at with the excuse of feeling pity.

it's the fact that you're standing here, in front of this tall, gentle, glass-eyed guitarist, and you don't really care what they'd have to say. you've missed him, a fact only ever made apparent right in this moment when he's close, and the sunrise gleam shines him rosy and flushed, and his glasses are still a little lopsided from past commotion.

you two grew from that, this small interaction. subtle, sheepish waves in the hallways, to you stopping by his house when they were playing. sitting in a nearby armchair, drinking a dr. pepper that MARTIN always offered the minute he saw you walking up his driveway.

you were welcomed in a way you haven't been before, and that just led to you two. a late august evening, the sun mere inches away from hiding under the horizon. just the two of you are left after juhoon said his goodbyes. an innocent conversation turned romantic with the help of a sunset, a blush, and far-too-cute glasses.

one detail that always reminds you of that evening is the fact that he gave you a diet dr. pepper rather than an original. seeing that white can, always reminds you of that smile he gave you, of that kiss you shared.

"you got any studying to get home to?" MARTIN asks as he puts down his guitar on its stand. you chuckle at the question, because you do, quite a lot at that. you have a book seminar in english this friday, and you've got half the book left. it's constantly been slipping your mind thanks to your newly frequented stops at MARTINS and the fact that the book is just mind-numbingly dull.

"just a bit of reading," you lie, taking a sip of your diet dr.pepper. his eyes land on yours again after having put his guitar down, and he's wearing a pleased smile.

"so, maybe you can stay a little longer?" MARTIN proposes, and there's something about the way he looked in that very moment. eyes aglow by the setting sun and glasses beaming.

you end up sitting on his driveway, the gray concrete cold underneath you, and the can in your hand humid with condensation. there are no words to really describe the moment. sunset shining the world golden, laughter blessing your ears. it's simple, yet your flushed skin is nothing but complex. he's sitting close enough for your shoulders to touch, and it makes all his words so foggy.

he chuckles as he makes a remark, and you nod with a smile, but you're lost in him. in his glasses that mirror the sun, the smile that fits him so well, and the hands that are so close. if you were to stretch your pinky, you'd touch his, and wasn't that a little bit too tempting?

he laughs again, a deep, colorful chuckle that infects you with a warmth; a warmth that gives you courage. your pinky touches his, subtle, but undeniable. it makes him trip over his words a little, and the blush that inches up his face is enough to make you reach over properly, your palm against his outer hand.

his words dissolve before they can reach his tongue, and he's left with only breath and a warm pulse. "I-," he chuckles, his throat bobbing as he looks down at your touching hands.

your contact lies there; open for him to acknowledge and pursue. what you expect is him to slowly intertwine your hands, to give you a smile. but before he even tries, he looks to you, and he holds your eyes so carefully, his gaze so gentle.

"I'm happy we get to hang out so often," he nearly whispers, because if he were to speak any louder, when he's this near, it'd ring in your ears.

you smile, and you see the desperately subtle glance he gives your lips. what you want to say is something along the lines of gratitude and a form of reciprocation, but "prove it," is what you end up saying instead.

he blinks at your response, an airy exhale leaving him, but he dares to glance down at your lips again, lingering a little longer, making it obvious. obvious enough that when he does lean in, his lips on yours already feel natural. it feels like instinct, like the easiest thing to do. when his hand finally engulfs your own, and his other dares to reach for the brink of your neck, that's when it melts into you. him and his presence and warm skin.

his glasses bump into you, but it doesn't grow tense; the two of you merely giggle into each other. your hand that's not holding his reaches up to lay on his chest, but through the humidity of your mind and warmth of MARTIN, you forget about the dr.pepper in your grasp. as your hand moves and your fingers grow loose, the can spills onto your uniform and his jeans.

you both yelp, lips disconnecting, touch leaving, but the hand that's holding his managed to grow tighter, safer. you see the now-dented white can roll down the slanted driveway with a clunky, uneven sound. you meet his wide eyes, pink lips, and slanted glasses, and you laugh. your head clunks into his chest, which is now dressed in a wet t-shirt. his chest rumbles with laughter under your temple.

you walked home that day with one of his old, dry t-shirts. and a kiss goodbye at your front door, as he had insisted on walking you the ten meters to your house. you felt blessed, MARTIN thought it was too good to be true.

the two of you grew into something gentle, into something that was just your own. you wanted to keep your relationship on the low-key, and who was MARTIN to object? he didn't mind having you when no one else saw. he blamed it on different circles, on schedules. but you, you realized, that you do in fact care what your friends have to say.

in the beginning of your relationship, it was giggles and soft touches, secret kisses and passing glances when nobody could see.

a month passed, and then three. it was careful what you two had, something you cherished, but nowadays, over the past few weeks, your friends have gotten to your head.

"god, I feel like I see that blond wannabe wherever I look."

you look up from your lunch plate, the comment landing wrong in your chest. "MARTIN?" you inquire.

your friend scoffs a grimace. "that's his name?" the rest laugh. "I swear if I hear him and his little band-geek friend laugh in math one more time, I'm losing it."

the table erupts in further comments and laughs. you utter a forced snicker, but you cower into your plate, the laugh tasting sour on your tongue.

ever since then, it's continued, it's grown. remarks have gotten rougher, laughs tetering on mockery, cruelty. it all sinks into you with bitter force, with a truth you don't want to face. so subconsiously, sharply, your behavior shifted. subtely, your hands started to hesitate rather than assure. your kisses grew fewer and fewer. your glances, your contact, it grew strained. you tried, you begged yourself to get yourself together, but now there's really no denying your behavior.

it leads you to where you are right now. you got home a while ago, been home for a few hours, MARTIN ended just twenty minutes ago. so you're in comfy loungewear and barefaced, while MARTIN'S tense in his school uniform.

"I want to know why," MARTIN says with a yearning urgency. you don't look him in the eye, you can't. you try to muster up an answer, your arms crossed and your eyes on the living room wall.

he says your name with this desperate hurt, and it hits you beneath your ribs, all flesh and close tears. "why is it so hard to give me a glance. a sliver of your attention."

you swallow, close your eyes hard. "MARTIN, please, as if you don't ignore me too." he scoffs, quiet yet obvious.

"I'm not the one that let's go of your hand when we're out." you clear your throat, sight falling to your hardwood floor. "I'm not the one who refuses to look you in the eye as soon as anyone's near. or no one, for that matter."

this is where all this came from. the two of you crossed paths in the hallway today, no one around. when MARTIN smiled at the sight of you and privacy, you saw it as too risky and steered away, not even as much as glancing his direction.

it was silly, dumb. not a hello, not even eye contact.

"I feel like I'm the only one in this relationship," he chokes on his words; they feel too honest, because deep down, MARTIN knows that this really is a possibility.

"please, MARTIN, a glance doesn't mean much," you defend, but you still can't bear the thought of looking him in the eye.

"to you, of course it doesn't," he states. you exhale, holding back a begging urge at your eyes. "because, you-." he inhales, breathing to withhold what's begging to come undone. "you could leave any day."

you do the unbelievable, the unmistakable, you meet his eyes. they're glassy, they're hurt beneath the furrow of his brow. you swallow.

"a glance doesn't matter when you have the choice to go as you please."

you switch your weight from one leg to the other and shift your arms around in their crossed position, you do anything to do something. "and how come you can't, huh?" he huffs, head turning to the wall. "hm, why can't you leave any day you please?"

"because I love you," he confesses, his tone rough with an urge to hold back what leaps forward. but it still comes out as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

it settles deep in your abdomen, harshly in your throat as your brows furrow and your arms grow loose.

he sniffs. "that's why," he proclaims, meeting your eyes before walking off to the nearest door; your bedroom door, and closing it behind him.

the echo of the door clicking shut is what makes both of you crack. tears fall slowly, hands cover, your body grows limp. you sink into the couch, tears mixing with your skincare, brows folding under the pressure of your head and aching waterline.

MARTIN, he glides down the door, landing with a quiet thud as tears fall with vigor. his lashes crimp, his glasses bend and lift as his hands rub and cover his eyes.

he might be able to choke the excuse that he needed an argument, he needed a way out, but the raw, uncovered truth was that he loves you. every time he sees you walking up that driveway, everything else falters. every time your hand grazes his, nothing else can itch a frown out of him. you make him feel like himself, unfiltered and protected.

but the past few weeks have made him believe that he's not yours, and you're not his. everything you do seems to be in compliance with others. MARTIN knows people think of him as weird, that his dyed-blonde hair is outlandish, and that if he wears glasses, his personality should fit the bill. but he's never believed that you did too. you've convinced him that you're not like your friends, that your surroundings aren't a reflection of who you are.

yet here he is, sobbing against his palms and uneven glasses, having come to the conclusion that it was, in fact, too good to be true. because who could see their lover and not smile, who could see their lover and not care.

MARTIN takes a deep breath, sighing into his palms in an attempt to stop his tears from flowing so harshly. he feels dumb, rather silly, sitting here so insatiably affected by something you don't even seem to classify as an issue.

he huffs, standing up as a way to shake this grimy layer of anxiety off him. the simple action doesn't help at all; it only makes him dizzy behind his cloudy glasses. immediately after standing up, he sits down, your bed comfortable underneath him. it's lacy and pink, it radiates you. you and your pretty outfits with matching colors and jewelry. he sniffs, bringing his nail between the knaw of his teeth.

he bites at the chipping color on his nail. it was you who painted them cherry red. "it matched your guitar," you had said, happy after having found the right color in your large collection. MARTIN smiles bittersweetly, looking down at the almost-gone paint. you're just behind that door, so close yet still so abundantly unreachable.

he bites his lip, wrapping his hand around the old polish on his nails, almost as a desperate attempt at preserving something he believes is nearly over.

through his choked back tears and humid waterline, he catches a glimpse of a blue strip of paper hanging on the edge of your vanity mirror. a vibrant blue he recognizes from his own room. on one of your first dates, you went to this arcade. the usual old and modern games. that one dance battle game, where he won by a landslide, and the racing game, where you came first, and he came last.

they had this photobooth. it cost a dollar for a strip of three pictures. you took one, he took one. MARTIN got the black-and-white pictures of you in that pretty sweater you wore, and peachy eyeshadow that turned white and glittery in the photo. while you got his picture, the one that started off serious before he got childish with his poses. him, and his spiky hair and black-painted nails. here it was, displayed right where you do your makeup every morning.

MARTIN makes his way over, taking a seat in the chair by the white vanity. just a simple glance makes him notice the little chikawa plushy hanging right beside the black-and-white photo. this dumb little white plushy with a taiyaki head.

he chuckles, grazing the wide black eyes on the plush. MARTIN won it that day at the arcade. you had laughed, said it was ugly, in which MARTIN acted offended. it wasn't ugly, it was cute; at least MARTIN thought so.

he finally notices the many differently colored post-it notes stuck to the edges of the mirror. a mix of yellow, green, and pink sticky notes tucked into the slants of the white frame. MARTIN leans in, catching the clunky pencil lines of his handwriting. they were his notes, the ones he had sneaked into your locker and managed to discreetly pass to you in class.

"one you've never tried," one said, accompanied by a heart. he wrote that one on a redbull can he bought you with flavor you'd been wanting to try. which he then put in your locker for you to find on a gloomy thursday morning.

"I like your outfit." MARTIN chuckles reading this one. he had given it to you sneakily in class, and you had giggled, knowing you were wearing the uniform of every single other person in the school.

each one was a little stupid, a quick quip, things that didn't really matter too much, yet here they hung proudly, accompanying you every morning when you get ready.

MARTIN sighs, bottom lip sore under his teeth. was all this really futile? wasn't this affection? keeping parts of him without the need to brag about it. he never knew you kept that plushy, or that blue strip of pictures, or a few silly notes.

MARTIN is taken aback by your preservation of a few gifts and a couple of anecdotes, but why should he be? if you care, how come it doesn't show? why do your touches skim and hesitate? why does your smile falter? why do you cower at the tiniest bit of reciprocation?

in the midst of MARTIN'S quick conclusions and bustling brain, he sees it: the white, dented dr.pepper can sitting so innocently in an empty space on your bookshelf. he sits there for a while, just looking. it's scratched, silver metal peeking through the white cover. the dent is obscure and obvious.

it's only when MARTIN stands up from the small vanity chair that he realizes he's been holding his breath. he exhales abruptly, the breath burning his throat. he walks over to the wooden bookshelf. the can has been cleaned, the debris and dirt washed off. it's meticulously taken care of.

he raises a hand, grazing the roughed-up white surface with a red knuckle, and the cold metal takes him back to that day on his driveway, to you and your perfect hair and deep eyes and soft kiss; his first kiss.

never did he think back to that day and let his thoughts land on that spilled dr.pepper. if only it didn't happen, but here you were, displaying it, taking care of it. did the useless really matter? or was it just because it had a part in the moment? he picks the can up, letting it sink into his palm; both its smooth and rough edges.

MARTIN hears a knock at the door; it's soft, attentive. he turns to the sound and takes a second to breathe your barely-there presence in.

"MARTIN?" he hears you say, crooked and cowardly. his heart palpitated, aches at the sound. he takes the leap and opens the door.

there you are, tear-stained and beautiful.

"I hate my friends," you proclaim, and it stifles a breath from him. "they're so mean to you." you wipe your nose, tears continuing. MARTIN'S never seen you cry, and what some would consider revenge is what he sees as failure, because how could he let you end up feeling like this?

"their words keep coming back to me every time we're together, and it's-." you lay your face in your hands. "it's affected how I treat you."

MARTIN'S hold of the white can tightens the slightest.

"and it shouldn't." you brush your hair back. "you don't deserve that because-." your eyes meet his. "because you're so great, MARTIN," you sigh. "you're so sweet to me, and I just answer with being cold, and it's just cruel-."

he looks at you, really looks at you, and all he sees is passion. passion for him of all people. and love. love for him. isn't he lucky?

"please believe me when I say that-." he envelops you before your words can escape you. his arms wrap around you, your flushed and stained cheeks imprinting on his blue blazer.

"I love you," you say, finishing your sentence. MARTIN smiles into your neck where he's nuzzled into you, a final tear managing to escape and land on the fabric of your tank top.

you let your arms take a slow trip up around his neck, holding him tight against you. you sigh into him, closing your eyes beneath your furrowed brows. "I don't want to leave any day, MARTIN."

he still has a hold of the can, keeping it tucked into him, keeping the cold surface from touching your skin. he looks down at the metal from your shoulder, at its dented, imperfect, useless presence.

"I know," he says, knowing you're honest. he plants a reassuring kiss on your collarbone.

a beat passes, a quiet moment that holds you with such certainty. "I didn't know you kept all this," MARTIN mumbles into you.

you barely hear his words. "kept what?"

you two disconnect, you're still close, but there's enough space between you for him to show you the can in his hands. you exhale a laugh at the sight.

"I've kept prettier things from you," you chuckle. he smiles, planting a kiss on your temple.

"I saw," MARTIN answers, and your ears light up with a subtle pink. "my picture." he kisses your cheek, wrapping one arm around your waist as he delicately sets the white can on the vanity. "some of those sticky notes."

"I kept all of them," you're quick to confess.

MARTIN'S brows furrow, eyes widening. "all of them?"

you laugh, a hand going up to cover your mouth. "I have a box full of 'em in my desk." your cheeks have bloomed pink. "I switch the ones up on my mirror from time to time."

MARTIN'S the one who's blushing now. he cowers in the crook of your neck, and you laugh at the contact of his warm skin.

"and what?" he laughs through his blushing state, steering the subject away from his flushed embarrassment. "the chikawa's still ugly?"

you laugh, hugging him properly as your arms go around his neck once more. "as ugly as ever," you giggle. "but at least the guy that won him is kinda cute." MARTIN laughs, glasses a little crooked as he raises himself from your neck.

you smile contentedly. both of you are blushing, both of you are close. of course, your lips inevitably connect, comfortable and warm in the company of the other.

you don't want to leave, MARTIN doesn't want to leave. not someday. not any day.

Ꮺ sin's masterlist Ꮺ schedule ; future fics Ꮺ talk to sin

TAGLIST 𐔌open 𐦯 ── @feelikecinderella ˖ @one-chance-pls ˖ @inlovewithstraykids ˖ @zhaoyufanholic ˖ @hearts4julie ˖ @h14a ˖ @loveveronica ˖ @im2swagalicious ˖ @jjuhooners ˖ @09zpzkeonnss ˖ @hyeon3y ˖ @immisssworld ˖ @feljxx ˖ @fshiwore ˖ @sxqhan ˖ @vanillakirstein ˖ @hwalllllllelujah ˖ @lunaryoongie ˖ @whlhql ˖ @r0ckst4rjk ˖ @m1rahh ˖ @akarireadss22 ˖ @lcvehyeon ˖ @bellesophiaa ˖ @lovhyeon ˖ @cookispark ˖ @yufanbigfan ˖ @ilovegojosatoru13

— ｡､ BF!MARTIN .. who loves to buy you jewelry. has a matching bracelet with you, having your initials on it.

— ｡､ BF!MARTIN .. who loves it when you send him pictures of you throughout your day ( especially if your long-distance ) ect : he saves them to his phone and has an album just of you.

— ｡､ BF!MARTIN .. who is the type to do the most when you ask him to take pictures of you, suddenly on the ground with your phone to get a “captivating angle” ( he believes you look good in every angle )

— ｡､ BF!MARTIN .. who loves to help you pick out your outfits for the day. he loves being able to dress you up, happy you trust him enough to do so.

— ｡､ BF!MARTIN .. who loves being the little spoon, despite being so big and tall. loves when you hold him and pet his hair until he falls asleep.

@st4r-ultra

lace adorned him, his hair was meticulously styled, spots were covered with concealer, and subtle eyeshadow embraced the corners of his eyes. he looked show-ready ─but he was anything but the sort.

nerves weren't ever really an issue. excitement was what fueled his movements and confidence, the passion to have a good show. but this time, the pressure in his chest didn't keep him smiling or balanced. it dug into him with ferocity, with a cruel anxiety.

starting their entire performance wasn't something that MARTIN took lightly. he's spent hours upon hours in front of that board, repeating the same rhythm, the same chords. it was tedious in its preciseness, mocking in its simplicity.

he knew he could do it, deep down ─now that he's done it nearly six times correctly in a row─ doing it on stage would be no different. but it still burned in him, fire against fire in his blood.

he lays a palm against his chest, rubbing the clothed skin with a firm hand, the fabric scraping at his skin. he breathes in, holding onto the oxygen tight as if it'll run away if he doesn't beg too sincerely.

the crowd applauded, and it echoed and jumbled into a mess in his ears. it all perked at his skin, nipped at his shaking fingers. they'll call him on anytime now. oh god. he was practically cold-sweating, waves of unease pulsing down him in harsh truth.

he suddenly feels a gentle touch spark at his shoulder, fingers that felt engraved in his memory.

he turned, meeting the blessed sight that is you. you have this sweet smile, these joyous eyes. you're not carrying luggage, proposing the idea that you've already booked into some form of hotel, and it fills MARTIN such undeniable glee.

"hi," you spoke, smile insatiable, and it washed over him in a gust of relief.

"oh my god," he laughed in disbelief, taking no time to engulf you in a man-killing hug.

you chuckled at the determined contact. "I didn't feel like missing another concert," you sigh into his cologne.

his brows furrow, eyes sparking with dust of tears. there's nothing he could be more grateful for. he detaches himself from your waist, letting his hands move up to cup your jaw. you're so full of admiration, and yet he's the one looking at you as if you hung the stars in the sky and built the ground where he stands.

you're so pretty. it occupied his brain with a welcoming shout. he kisses your cheek, and then your temple.

"thank you, baby," he said against your skin. tone soft in its genuine gratitude.

you lead your hands to the sides of his face, your eyes meeting his. there's something so indescribable in his glance. it overwhelmed you into a kind mirth.

"you look really good," you stated, and he giggles that girlish snicker of his whenever you compliment him. "you're always so handsome on stage," you professed.

he chuckled into your lips, kiss whole-hearted and warm.

anxiety melts at the sight of you, worry shudders at the calling of your name. you make calm so accessible, so justified.

then finally, they call his name, and a part of the staff comes over to usher him away. it pierces him beneath his ribs, but what he was embarking on wasn't what blared through his body; missing you is what did.

"watch me?" he voiced, nodding his head towards the tv-like screen viewing the stage.

you smile. "of course," you endorse, giving his cheek a final kiss. "you'll do great."

the words leave your mouth right as he's forced to leave, but the reassurance strikes him deep despite its muffled nature.

he walks onto that stage with a guaranteed bliss, and he nails that intro like second nature.

he praised you for his win, for his success. because god, didn't you make staying calm oh-so easy?

sin's masterlist ⅋ schedule ; future fics talk to me

TAGLIST 𐔌open ! 𐦯 ── @feelikecinderella ˖ @one-chance-pls ˖ @inlovewithstraykids ˖ @zhaoyufanholic ˖ @hearts4julie ˖ @h14a ˖ @loveveronica ˖ @im2swagalicious ˖ @jjuhooners ˖ @09zpzkeonnss ˖ @hyeon3y ˖ @immisssworld ˖ @feljxx ˖ @fshiwore ˖ @sxqhan ˖ @vanillakirstein ˖ @hwalllllllelujah ˖ @lunaryoongie ˖ @whlhql ˖ @r0ckst4rjk ˖ @m1rahh ˖ @akarireadss22 ˖ @lcvehyeon ˖ @bellesophiaa ˖ @lovhyeon ˖ @cookispark

You knew you were sick-sick when even the thought of getting up felt like too much.

Your body felt heavy beneath the blankets, limbs aching, head foggy in that dull, cottony way that made time stretch. The room was dim, curtains half-drawn, afternoon light slipping in quietly like it didn’t want to bother you. Your throat burned, your nose was stuffy, and your eyes were tired.

And you were alone, by choice.

Because Martin shouldn’t have been there.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, the vibration making your head throb. You squinted at the screen and groaned when you saw his name lighting it up. You answered, voice rough and weak.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Martin said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Open the door.”

Your heart sank a little. “No,” you croaked. “You’re not here. Go home.”

A pause. Then, softer, amused. “Baby. I’m literally outside.”

You rolled onto your side and buried your face into the pillow. You had told him. You had warned him. You had even said please.

Before you could argue again, you heard the familiar sound of the door unlocking.

You were already preparing your speech by the time he stepped into your room like he owned the place, which, honestly, he kind of did. Hoodie on, grocery bag in one hand, keys dangling from the other. His expression softened immediately when he saw you curled up like a sad little burrito.

“There you are,” he said gently. “God, you looked miserable.”

“Martin,” you rasped. “I told you not to come.”

He dropped the bag on the counter and crossed the room in three steps. “I guess you did, but you know I would still be here.”

“You were gonna get sick,” you insisted, trying to sit up and failing halfway. “I didn’t want that.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and pressed a hand to your forehead, brows knitting slightly. “You were warm. Not too bad, but still.” His thumb brushed your hair back. “And you really thought I cared about getting sick when my girlfriend looked like this?”

“That’s not romantic,” you muttered.

He smiled anyway. “Strongly disagree.”

He gently nudged you back down, tucking the blanket around your shoulders like you were fragile. His fingers lingered, brushing your hair out of your face, thumb tracing your temple.

“You eat anything?” he asked.

You shook your head.

“Drink water?”

Another shake.

He sighed dramatically. “Unbelievable. This is tragic.”

You glared weakly. “You’re annoying.”

He laughed. “I’m still taking care of you.”

Before you could argue again, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. Warm. Grounding. Familiar. Your annoyance melted instantly, despite yourself.

“Rest,” he murmured. “I’ll handle everything. Okay, baby?”

You hesitated. “…You promise you won’t stay long?”

He grinned. “Nope.”

He spent the next hour moving around your apartment like he had always lived there, opening windows just enough for fresh air, lowering the lights, setting a humidifier near your bed. He talked the whole time, narrating his actions in that upbeat, comforting way of his.

“Alright, soup coming up, lowkey might be basic, but Doctor Martin says broth is good for the soul.”

You watched him from the bed, eyes heavy but fond. Even sick, you felt safe with him there.

When he brought the bowl over, he sat beside you and helped prop you up with pillows.

“Slow,” he reminded you, holding the spoon up to your lips. “Don’t rush it.”

You blinked at him. “You were feeding me?”

“Absolutely,” he said. “Open up.”

You did, cheeks warm, not from the fever this time. He smiled like he’d won something.

“There we go. See? Easy.”

Between bites, he wiped your mouth gently with a napkin, his thumb brushing your cheek. Every small touch felt amplified, intimate in the quiet room.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” you said softly.

He hummed. “I wanted to.”

After you finished, he helped you lie back down, then climbed in beside you without hesitation. You protested weakly.

“Martin—”

“I’m not scared,” he said, already pulling you into his chest. “Plus, you were freezing. Feel that?”

His arm wrapped around your waist, hand warm through your shirt. You sighed despite yourself, nestling closer.

“There,” he murmured. “Perfect.”

He stayed like that for hours. Let you nap on him. Pressed kisses to your forehead whenever you stirred. Whispered dumb little jokes when you coughed, just to make you smile.

“Still alive?” he asked at one point.

“Barely,” you mumbled.

“Wow. Brave soldier,” he teased, kissing your hair. “I’m proud of you.”

When night fell, he insisted on staying.

You fell asleep to his heartbeat.

The next morning, you woke up feeling… better. 

Not perfect, but lighter. Less foggy.

And Martin was very much not okay.

He was sprawled dramatically across your couch, hoodie discarded, hair a mess. When he heard you shuffle in, he squinted at you.

“Why do I feel like I got hit by a truck,” he muttered.

You blinked. “…Martin?”

He groaned. “Yeah. Think you cursed me, baby.”

Guilt flooded you immediately. “Oh my god. I told you—”

He sat up slowly, sniffing. “It was worth it, though.”

You hurried over and pressed a hand to his forehead. “You’re warm.”

“Yeah?” He smirked weakly. “Guess it’s your turn now, huh?”

You laughed softly and helped him lie back down, grabbing a blanket and tucking him in just like he had done for you.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you said quietly.

He reached out, catching your wrist and pulling your hand to his lips. He kissed your knuckles, eyes tired but still bright.

“I know,” he said. “But I’d do it again.”

Then he added, teasing even now, “Plus, now I get spoiled. Win-win, hm?”

You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“Rest,” you whispered. “I’ve got you.”

He smiled, eyes fluttering shut, his hand still holding yours.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know.”

james

before dating: kinda hard to get close to, he prefers to admire you from afar at first to confirm his feelings— because he first confirms if you’re a good person. but then, he’s complimenting you, and wanting to hangout with you all the time. he even invites you into his circle and his space, which he rarely does with any of his friends.

while dating: he is clingy! surprisingly he has all this natural aegyo. he’s also a little possessive but more in a joking way, at least you think? he’ll hide you from the members, and always be around when you’re talking to them— but he also knows when to step away. actually, his favorite thing is stepping back and watching you interact with his friends and family. it brings him joy to see you fit in.

juhoon

before dating: juhoon is still chill as always, he treats you like another member. the only difference is he prioritizes spending one on one time with you, because he wants to be close to you without the others interrupting. he will definitely try and get you to see his funny side, and lives off of your laughter.

while dating: i don’t think he would be a complete 360 switch, but he’s definitely clingier. i think he would also be more playful, teasing you like a child. he definitely heals his inner child being with you, and it shows. he’s super outgoing and loves going on adventures with you, especially late at night. expect many cuddles and movie nights.

seonghyeon

before dating: super duper shyyy. he would be super talkative with the members, and then go quiet when you were around. just a lot of silence and stares from across the room— looking away when your eyes would meet. his acts of service still come through, but they’re quiet and lowkey— like bringing your favorite drink to the hangout, or the sidewalk rule.

while dating: he gets very protective, and a lot more jealous than you’d think. he’s also always staring at you, and is obsessed with just admiring you all day. he’s pretty private though, so a lot of skinship in public is a no go- although he doesn’t mind around the members since he’s close to them. also big emphasis on getting to know his family, especially his sister.

keonho

before dating: shy, stealing glances, always around the corner but not too close, standing behind friend, the guys have to force him to give you his valentine’s day gift — once you’re closer, he always remembers your fav drinks and has more skinship like helping you zip up your jackets or pulling you away from people in public.

your alarm clock blared in your ear, waking you up. all the thoughts from the previous night flooded back through your mind. you sat there in silence, staring at your wall, the thoughts consuming you. you couldn’t help but let out a sigh. you zoned out, and after what felt like an eternity you finally turned over to turn off your annoying alarm clock. you didn’t want to get up to go to work, most of all you didn’t want to deal with martin at all today.

well you didn’t have too. you could basically ignore him for the whole day, or even the rest of your life. but you loved him a lot. actually too much. you guys had been together for almost 2 years, you’d had your ups and downs, you had been there to support him when he was a trainee, and he was there for you when work got tough. you guys always motivated each other to keep going and never give up on your dreams.

martin knew you like the back of his hand at this point. he could read your moods from across a room, he knew when you needed space and when you needed him.

all you could think about is whether you being too dramatic? maybe your just pushing it at this point. but the hurt in your chest felt real. the distance between you felt real, and it kept growing even more within this past week. sometimes your relationship felt distance, but not like this. sometimes his eyes just gave it away, he wasn’t present.

yesterday went well, until later. this past week you’d just been overthinking and creating negative scenarios in your mind. you couldn’t help but just creating more—

ok enough, if you don’t get out of bed soon or later you were gonna be late for work. you swiftly sat up and got off your bed. you never forgot to make your bed every morning, your mom said “people who made their bed everyday were more likely to be rich?” something along the lines of that. you didn’t really believe it but who knew one day you become a billionaire thanks to your mom. you walked to your bathroom, turning the light switch on, followed by the familiar hum of the fan. you took a quick look at yourself in the mirror. your eyes swollen, lips dry, eyes a bit red. you turned the faucet on, adjusting to a cold temperature to wash your face. once, you finished washing your face you dried your face with a small towel, you tossed the towel aside, landing on top of the toilet seat cover. you grab your tooth brush and ran the water again, letting your toothbrush get a bit damp.

as you were brushing your teeth, you suddenly remembered about your phone. the calls. the messages. you rolled your eyes at your reflection in the mirror. you quickly finished brushing your teeth, drying your hands into the small towel you threw earlier, and walked to check on your phone.

the number of messages and calls only grew over night.

[babe💓] 40 missed calls

[babe💓] 121 messages

“oh my fucking god.” your expression shifted to annoyance instantly. you honestly had no clue what to say to martin, or when to even respond. you needed to talk to someone about what happened. juhoon. you unlocked your phone, searching for his contact and gave him a call. ”please be awake.”

“hi y/n”

“juhoon.. hi”

“hey, umm… martin told me about last night.”

you rolled your eyes.

“bruh, what did he tell you?”

“he didn’t tell me everything but, he just said how you were like extremely mad at him for canceling plans, and idek.”

“yeah.. well there’s more to that but.. i was gonna tell you last night before i stormed out but i was just really upset and just wanted to get home.”

“its ok, i understand.” he said in a reassuring manner.

“so… where do i start… hm. well idk, i know you guys have been busy working on the new album, promotion, and all that stuff. its just martin has gotten really distant with me this past week, he’s barely responding, and—” your voiced cracked.

“hey take your time its ok. oh also do you work today?”

“uhh yeah. anyways but i dont know, just by looking into his eyes he doesn’t look present when were together. i mean yesterday was fine until it wasn’t.”

every now and then, juhoon would respond with a quiet “mhm” letting me know he was still listening.

“he lied to me and said he wasn’t gonna be able to make it to our plans that he made saying, oh i’m gonna be here till late, just to leave at around the time he’d told me he would be done at, and just go out with james and keonho. like he could of just told me.” you went silent before asking.

“juhoon, do you think im overreacting?”

“no i don’t think so at least.”

“ok.. idk i feel like i am but like i don’t know, i don’t know how to feel.. well i mean i’m obviously really hurt, so..” you weren’t able to expression yourself properly, with your frustration and hurt.

“yeah no, i feel you y/n. your feelings are valid and honestly i’m gonna try to talk to martin and see what’s up and i’ll let you know, ok? obviously, i won’t mention you asked or anything.”

“ok, thank you juhoon. i really appreciate it i’ll probably call you after work today.”

“ok, sounds good with me, i don’t have anything scheduled for later.”

you wanted to say something sarcastic and joke about the situation with martin, but you didn’t.

“perfect, i’ll talk to you later.”

you hung up the phone, while you were talking to juhoon you were putting on your clothes. you checked the time. 7:47 am. you had to leave by 8:00.

“fuck.”

you quickly slid your shoes on, and rushed back into your bathroom to apply a good amount of concealer around your eyes to hide your tears from last night.

“ok i guess that will do.” you quickly packed your bag slipping your laptop, notebook, and other essentials in. you partially sprinted into the kitchen to quickly make lunch. the time now being 7:56.

“fuck it, i’ll just buy something there!” already frustrated you grabbed your keys and walked out of your apartment, locking the door behind you.

you made it to your car on time, breaking a sweat you let out a big exhale and turned your car on. the weather out felt as gloomy as you did, including it was fairly foggy out so you had to be more careful today.

your drive to work was filled with nonstop thoughts of martin. you shut them out by playing your music louder.

The Sound - The 1975 played as you pulled into work.

you parked your car, and turned it off. you opened your door and grabbed your bag from the passenger seat, and got out. walking into the building the air felt cold, almost as if the weather felt the weight of your emotions.

the building was filled by the warm hue of lights, the air was fairly cool. you scanned your id and walked back into your office. you greeted your co-workers, when you got to your desk you unpacked your belongings and organized them. you took a seat and placed your bag right under your feet. you cracked your laptop open and unlocked it.

all of a sudden the messages from martin came flooding through. you rested your elbow on the table your head in your hand, your heart thudding as they popped up.

you quickly skimmed through the recent ones, you hadn’t read. most of the text were just him spamming your name. asking if he was blocked, and him apologizing. you slightly grinned, a chuckle leaving your lips. you cleared your notifications and got straight to work. you opened up your schedule for today.

Wednesday 10:30 am team meeting 11:30 am client emails 1:00 lunch break 2:00 concept designs 3:30 presentation prep 4:15 wrap up.

you had busy schedule today, and got to work immediately. on top of whatever was going on between martin and you, there were rather much more things you should be more concerned about, the photoshoot, and the model show both being next week.

as 10:20 rolled around you hadn’t thought much about martin. your focus was on reviewing your work, and chatting with your co-worker lena, who had brought some coffee by for the both of you. the clock hit 10:25 so you knew it was time to head on into the meeting room. the meeting was mostly about next week’s photoshoot. you shared your concept photos and also your designs for the brand which all the other staff approved of. after, the meeting you felt giddy from your co-workers approval.

you confidently walked back to your desk, you started responding back to some client emails just before lunch.

the clock hit 1:00 pm, you were famished you were in a rush this morning you forget to bring at least a snack. the office building had some tasty bakeries and cafes nearby you often enjoyed ordering from. you decided to go to your usually go to cafe “brew haven,” they had delicious sandwiches, bagels, you name it. the cafe was a quick 3 minute walk from the building. on your way out you talked to clarissa your supervisor before you both parted ways. the air was now humid, it felt gross out. you scrolled through your socials as you walked to the cafe.

next thing you know this man walked straight into you. “hey! watch where your going!” you snapped. the man was extremely tall he hovered over you, he was dressed in an all black streetwear outfit, you looked up to continue scolding him about how he should be more careful, but the words got caught in your throat, your heart started beating rapidly.

it was martin.

all you could say when you were able to clearly recognized him was “what the fuck are you doing here?!”

your expression froze in shock, your eyebrows furrowed, your stomach dropped, a rush of heat flowing down your back.

“ok, ok, calm down!” he said putting his hands up trying to calm me down.

“look, i just wanted to talk to you.” he said in a calm manner, but nothing about this made sense.

“i’m at work! and— and you should be at work too?!” you took a pause before yelling at him again.

“were not doing this here, you need to go.” you quickly moved out of his way.

“no! i skipped work just to come talk to you, don’t ignore me.” he blocked you off.

you rolled your eyes and looked around. we were creating a scene now, all you wanted to do was eat lunch peacefully but now you can’t.

“get out of my way!” you shoved him away, and stormed off.

in the distance you could hear him yell, “y/n…y/n!!! come on…!” his voice getting quieter as you walked farther. you didn’t look back, you kept walking till you arrived at the cafe.

you finally made it to the cafe. all you could think about is how the hell did he find you? your location. you opened my phone and turned off your location for him. the soft click sounded as you turned your phone off. the cafe was full but it felt empty, the music was loud, people sitting at tables quietly getting their work done as they enjoyed their coffee and food. you got into line, checking the menu by habit already knowing exactly what you were gonna order.

“next person!”

“hi, can i do a medium vanilla latte, and a chicken cesar sandwich please?”

“of course! will that be all?”

“yes.”

“that will be $11.99”

you pulled your card from out your wallet and tapped it on top of the register.

you stepped aside shoving your card back into your wallet, and walked to the back of the cafe to take a seat. you loved this cafe a lot it was filled with warm wood colors, plants, and contained lots of natural lighting.

a sudden call came through. it was martin. you didn’t know what to do. you stared at his contact name and photo. the photo being from when you guys first started dating. you decided to let the line ring. a server came by and dropped your latte and food off, you thanked them.

the chicken cesar tasted amazing as usual, you had been texting juhoon a bit while you were eating, updating him about your encounter with martin.

“no way! i swear i thought i saw him earlier in the practice room but i guess not.”

a few silent giggles slipped out of me during our conversation. by the time you finished your food it was about 1:30 pm and it was almost time to head back to the office. you collected your belonging and got up heading towards the front of the cafe doors. a wave of anxiety hit you. what if martins was still waiting for you outside? you shook your head trying to remove that worry from out your head.

the walk felt a lot faster this time, you didn’t bump into martin again, and were able to get back to the office on time before you had to preview concept designs. you enjoyed this part of work, being able to see different kinds of work and build on your creativity really inspired you.

after that the rest of the day went by quick, the next thing you knew was you were wrapping up the presentation prep, and heading back to your desk to finish one last thing before you left.

finally, you were able to go home, you were almost done with your coffee so you decided to chug the rest so it didn’t go to waste. you walked to your car and unlocked it. you opened the door stretching towards the passenger seat to place your belonging down, then hopping in.

throughout the car ride juhoon and you called, talking about work and each others day, bringing up what happened earlier with martin and continuing that conversation.

you pulled into your parking spot and got out the car, you walked into the lobby of the apartment, greeting the staff. you waited for an elevator to come down.

a message pop up it was from seonghyeon.

seonghyeon: “yo idk what happened with you and martin but i think yall need to talk.”

“thanks for distributing my peace.” you quietly mummed to yourself. you hadn’t thought about responding to martin all day. the temptation now felt too strong. the elevator doors opened, you stared down as you walked in rereading the message as the elevator went up.

when it got to your floor you walked out of the elevator and put your phone into your bag, you got to the door and unlocked it, when you walked in you set your stuff down. the lighting in your apartment was warm as it was almost sunset soon. you unwinded by eating some lays chips, then heading into the shower.

finally you had some time to unwind before you made yourself some dinner. you sat on your couch and turned on your show. The Pitt. you had been obsessed with this show, especially now since the new season just started to air. you were able to catch up on the past 2 episodes before you started feeling hungry and decided to get up and make some dinner. you walked into your kitchen and looked in the fridge searching for ingredients.

“hmmm…”

you couldn’t find anything, so you switched on over and looked into your pantry and found some pasta.

“this will do.”

as you were filling water into your pot, your doorbell rung. you just assumed your amazon package came in and let it sit out for a bit, as you put the pot on the stove and let the water boil you headed out the door to go pick up your package, but instead you found a bouquet of roses sitting on the floor with a small note. “seriously” came out of your mouth.

this was definitely from martin.

you peaked your head out the door looking both left and right, checking to see if maybe he was there.

there was no sign of him. you bent down and quickly picked up the bouquet of roses and the letter. you closed the door behind you, your left hand filled with the gifts from who you assumed to be martin. in the distance you could hear your phone ringing. you put the gifts down on the kitchen counter and checked your phone.

it was from unknown number. it could of just been spam so you declined the call. before you opened the letter you remembered about the boiling water. “shit!” you rushed over to the pot and poured the pasta into the water and lowered the temperature just a bit. you stirred the pasta around until it was fully submerged, you set a timer, and let it sit until it was done.

you grabbed the letter and opened it. a notebook sheet of paper was inside. it read.

“Meet me at the rooftop at 7:30.”

you knew this was martin, it was exactly in his handwriting. you checked the time. 6:43 pm. your stomach knotted. you placed the letter down the same careful way you opened it. you stood there your mind telling you to go, not to go, you didn’t know what to do.

martin never wrote letters unless it mattered. you stared back at the time. 6:44 pm. without realizing you were biting at the skin around your nails. your heart was racing. maybe it was time for you to talk to him. you felt like you were being dramatic, but you couldn’t let your guard down so easily for when you see him.

fuck, were you really going to do this. you placed both your elbows down onto the counter your head resting in your hands, the letter right below you. you kept rereading it over and over. the rooftop, martin and you occasionally had dates on your rooftop, you both would cook at your place and bring it up, not forgetting to bring either ones laptop to watch a movie, create some cute long-lasting memories up there.

the timer went off, making you jolt. you rushed to get a plate out and serve yourself. you went back to the side of the counter you were basically pondering your whole life at to slowly eat your feelings away.

7:05 pm. at this point your nerves stopped you from having an appetite, you gave up on trying to shove food down your throat and instead shoved the leftovers into a small container and place it into the fridge.

you walked to your bathroom to brush your teeth and clean any residue from the red sauce off your face. you hadn’t answer seonghyeon text, or even updated juhoon about what just happened. maybe you should call juhoon, and listen to his opinion, even though you’ll just do whatever you decide in the end. you walked towards your closet tearing it apart to find a somewhat comfy outfit to meet martin in. there were multiple pieces of clothing placed on your bed, your chair, and on the floor all just to wear leggings and a light-grey hoodie.

the time was now 7:26, you were so nervous you could probably faint, which might as well be a good thing, to avoid this talk with martin. but, you knew you had to be mature and confront martin. you slid out your front door carefully, shutting it quietly. you walked up the stairs to waste some time, whispering to yourself about how nervous you were, then switching to giving yourself some positive prep talk which didn’t help the anxiety filled knot in your stomach.

by the time you made it to the rooftop door, you were winded. “i should of just taken the elevator,” you said as you put your arms on top of your head to inhale more air. you stood there for a bit until your heart was beating at a more steady rate.

you opened the door, trying to make it quiet, but the weight of the door worked against you, the screeching of the door broke your cover. as you looked off into the distance the sky was a deep dark blue, a noticeably tall figure stood resting on the railing.

it was martin, he was still dressed in the same black outfit from earlier, he was looking off into the distance facing the opposite way of you. you walked towards him, the knot in your stomach was gone, but now it filled all around you creating an awkward lead up towards him. your heart was beating so fast, you thought you were going to have a heart attack. he heard your footsteps and shifted his stance now, facing in your direction.

even though, it was dark you could see him bite the inside of his cheek, a habit he’s always had. when you were close enough to him you separated yourself from him and laid back on the rails about 2 feet away from him, turning you face away from him.

“why are you so far?” he said with a chuckle.

you didn’t respond, your body felt stiff.

even though you weren’t looking at him you could feel his gaze on you. you could hear sudden footsteps move closer toward you. martin was now in front of you. he lightly grabbed your chin forcing you to stare up at him.

“this is better.” he said, clearing his throat.

“look. i’m sorry about yesterday and i should of told you that keonho and james invited me out. and i’m sorry about that. but don’t you think your being overly dramatic—“ you couldn’t control yourself, your face felt tight, the area around your eyes had so much pressure around them. when he said the word “dramatic” you just pushed him. not a hard push but one where he could feel your frustration. his hand had dropped from your chin.

tears slowly begun to stream down your face.

“yo, don’t push me!” he said collecting himself.

“well i’m not being fucking dramatic! don’t act like you weren’t being distant this whole past week.” your voice broke.

“what?! i haven’t been distant.”

“yes you have!”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“the messages, calls, you barely see me and everytime we hangout, that spark in your eyes isn’t there anymore!” your tears now staining your hoodie. no matter how many times you wiped them away, they always came back blurring your vision.

“look. i know your stressed about work and shit but why can’t you at least give me the bare minimum… i mean you’ve been good at it… until recently.” you could already tell your eyes were gonna be so swollen tomorrow. when you usually cried like this your face would be red, including your eyes.

all martin could do was stare at you. you couldn’t honestly tell how he was feeling, you couldn’t see his through his body language or his expression. it wasn’t a clear answer anyways.

he put his right hand on the back of his head, exhaling slowly, he turned around and took a few steps around pondering his thoughts before he returned back to you.

“y/n i think your overthinking this whole thing…” he said crossing his arms.

“then why do i feel this way!” you threw your hands over you face, you turned facing off into the city avoiding any form of eye contact with him now.

“these are my emotions and feelings and your hurting them! you know exactly what you’ve been doing quit playing dumb!”

“i’ve been busy you know that! i mean we’ve both been busy!”

“yeah but this is how i feel! last week and yesterday obviously mattered and effected me a lot why can’t you see that!” a big exhale left your mouth, a small cry came out of you.

“i’m sorry.”

“stop saying that! you obviously didn’t feel sorry yesterday.”

“i did! i obviously feel bad!”

“no you don’t!” he stood quiet for a bit. before speaking again.

“look… i’m trying so hard right now. im busy and i’m stressed. i’m also trying with you it’s just i don’t have the energy to handle this pressure.” he said.

your stomach dropped. your eyes furrowed, your tongue slide over your teeth. you turned around.

“what pressure? am i the pressure? so i’m pressure now, right!” your voice getting louder after each assumption.

“no! no, no that’s not what i meant!”

“no i see what this is, when you get stressed i’m the person. the thing. you pull away from, ok i think i’m done here.” you threw your hands up in frustration and stepped away from him.

his hand reached for you, pulling you back.

“no let’s talk and resolve this shit.”

“look i’ve been stressed a lot too, i’ve been dealing with so many emotions and feelings it’s been hard, but you haven’t noticed that. you never asked!” you had to calm yourself down before telling him the truth.

“i feel like i’ve been drowning in my own thoughts, in front of you! i just wanted you to be there for me. i’m not the type of person to just expresses myself in this sort of way—“ you gave up on trying to explain yourself. from him now being distant, it was a lot harder to talk to him about how you had really been feeling throughout this past week.

you looked back at him while you wiped your face off. you saw his eyes turn watery, his face seemed to be holding something back, he put a hand up just to bring it down, almost as if he wanted to wipe your tears off.

“i’m sorry.” he said, but this time it sounded different. he pulled you into his arms, a hug that felt like he was going to lose you, forever. you froze and stood there, you’ve never seen martin cry, not like this. he gasping for air, his chest rising fast. you knew how much he hated seeing you cry, and you hated most when he cried.

with the height of all these emotions you gave in and hugged him back.maybe this is what you needed after all. a moment where you were actually able to get him to listen to you. your forehead rested on his chest. your hands holding his shirt tight. he put a hand on the back of your head pulling you closer to him. he bent down a bit to place his head on top of yours. his chin brushing your hair.

the quiet was filled by our soft cries, nether of you spoke. you could feel the amount of stress and emotions you both had been holding back just by being close this close to each other.

he picked you up, carefully. your breath was shaky, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders resting your head in between his neck. he held you as if you were light as a feather. you wrapped your legs around him.

“i’ve got you.” he whispered running his fingers through your hair. a quiet sob escaped from your mouth. you could hear his heartbeat. it was fast.

he stood there, carrying you, letting the truth run between you both. the weight of everything you’d both had been holding back, finally being shared. you knew that maybe there was much more behind this than you thought. you still had your worries but in this moment that was the less of your worries.