𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑢, 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡 / 𝐴𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 | 𝑀𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑛
: ̗̀➛ A CORTIS Martin oneshot.
: ̗̀➛ Fluff + a little bit of angst
: ̗̀➛ Regina George × Rodrick Heffley dynamic 🌝 ALSO MY FAVOURITE SHIP URGH. Bless the person who came up with it.❤️
: ̗̀➛ Do not plagiarise my works or post them on other sites without my permission. You will get blocked and reported immediately.
: ̗̀➛ Thank you so much for reading ❤️🐇
•Thank u, next - Ariana Grande
•Into you - Ariana Grande
•Boyfriend - Ariana Grande
•Bang Bang - Jessie J, Ariana Grande & N*cki M*naj
•Overflow - Evan/Heeseung
•Lovers - Anna of the north
•Birds of a feather - Billie Eilish
•Open arms - SZA ft Travis Scott
•We don't talk anymore - Charlie Puth ft Selena Gomez
•Attention - Charlie Puth
•Genie in a bottle - Christina Aguilera
•Friends - Chase Atlantic
•Nothin on you - B.o.B ft Bruno Mars
•Dirty little secret - The All American Rejects
•Girlfriend - Avril Lavigne
•Hollaback girl - Gwen Stefani
•Everybody here wants you - Jeff Buckley
•Emo boy - Ayisha Erotica
•Maneater - Nelly Furtado
•Cupid's chokehold/ Breakfast in America - Gym Class Heroes
: ̗̀➛ Tags (open but please follow and let me know if you would like to be part of the list✨): @vanishingnana @quantumspawntraitor @loveliezzzlinaa22 @delicate-lotus
The first time Martin Edwards saw Madeline Goldman cry, they were seven years old, and she scraped her knee on the paving during recess. He gave her his favorite Pokémon card: a holographic Charizard, to make her stop. She sniffled, clutched it to her chest like it was made of gold, and promised to marry him someday.
The last time Martin Edwards saw Madeline Goldman cry was three weeks ago, when she stood in the airport security line with her back to him, her shoulders shaking so violently he thought she might shatter into a million pieces.
The first day of senior year arrived with oppressive humidity that made the halls of Crestwood High smell like dread and cheap deodorant. Martin slumped against his locker, watching the chaos unfold with the aloof amusement of a nature documentary narrator. Freshmen scattered like startled deer, juniors strutted like they already conquered the world and seniors moved with the sluggish weight of people who knew the end was coming but weren't quite sure how to feel about it.
And then there was Madeline.
The doors swung open and there she was. She wept through the corridor like she owned it. Because she did. Her hair blew perfectly in the imaginary wind. She cut it shorter over the summer, just above her collarbones, and the style suited her so well that it made Martin's chest ache. Her blazer was tailored to fit like a second skin. Her Victoria's Secret kitten heels were so pristine they practically glowed. A gold chain rested on her collarbone. Her makeup was minimal but still captivating: a swipe of mascara and a hint of gloss. She moved with the precision of a general surveying her troops, nodding at the right people and dismissing others with a glance so cutting it could draw blood.
She looked like she just stepped out of a magazine. Out of his dreams. She moved through the crowd like a queen through her court, and the crowd parted for her. It wasn't conscious. No one stepped aside because they were told to. They just...did. There was something magnetic about Madeline, something that made people want to be near her or get out of her way. There was no in-between.
Martin felt his jaw tighten. His fingers curled around the strap of his worn-out backpack, his knuckles whitening.
"Easy, tiger." Juhoon, his best friend and bandmate, murmured, appearing at his side.
"I'm fine." Martin said, his voice flat.
"You're doing the thing where your eye twitches."
"Bro, you're literally doing it right now. It's like a full-body spasm that happens whenever she walks into a room. The doctors call it Mad-itis. Very rare. Very tragic."
Martin shoved Juhoon. His gaze was already drifting back to Madeline, who stopped to talk to some guy Martin has never seen before. He was tall, a brunette and perfect, making Martin's teeth ache. The guy was laughing at something she said, his hand resting on her arm like he had any right to touch her.
Something hot and ugly coiled in Martin's chest. He recognized the feeling immediately. It was the same one that took up permanent residence in his ribcage since grade 10, when everything fell apart.
"Ahh...Woojin..." Juhoon said, following his gaze. "...the guy who transferred from some private school back in grade 9. His dad is a businessman or something. Very rich."
"Couldn't care less." Martin replied.
"Figured that's why you look like you're about to commit a homicide."
Martin forced himself to look away. To breathe and remember that Madeline Goldman was no longer his concern. She made that abundantly clear when she laughed in his face during the winter formal of grade 11, surrounded by her flock of sycophants, and announced to everyone within earshot that she "outgrew" him.
The memory still burned. It was meant to hurt him in every way.
"She's dating him..." Juhoon added, almost as an afterthought. "...already. First day of school and she's already got a new one. That's gotta be a record, even for her."
Martin's blood boiled. He felt it in his fingers, his toes and the space behind his eyes. His face remained impassive. It was a skill he perfected over the past two years. The art of feeling nothing, or at least looking like he felt nothing.
"Good for her." He said, and walked away before Juhoon could see the jealousy in his eyes.
Madeline knew exactly where Martin was standing. She always knew. It was like some kind of sixth sense, a radar that pinged whenever he was within fifty metres. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her skin even when she wasn't looking at him.
Madeline kept her attention fixed on Woojin, who was saying something about his father's yacht and the summer he spent in the Hamptons. He was quite handsome and stylish in a unique way. His smile was cute. His manners were impeccable. His future was already mapped out. He was set to go to Yale, then med school, then land himself a nice, high-paying job and a wife who would look perfect on his arm at charity galas.
Madeline could be that wife. She trained for it her whole life.
"Madeline? Everything okay?" Woojin's hand was on her arm, his brows furrowed with concern. "You seem...distracted."
"I'm fine." She said, her voice smooth as glass. "Just thinking about all the work we have this year."
"Don't worry about it. I'll help you with anything you need."
She smiled at him, a perfect smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "You're sweet."
From across the hallway, she heard a low, sarcastic laugh. She didn't have to turn around to know it was Martin. She could picture him perfectly, leaning against the lockers with that insufferable smirk, his arms crossed and eyes glinting with mockery. He was probably filming her on his phone. He did that sometimes, recording her like she was some kind of zoo animal, a specimen to be studied and ridiculed.
It made her want to scream.
Instead, she laughed loudly, and leaned closer to Woojin. "Tell me more about the Hamptons..." She said. "...I've always wanted to go."
Madeline didn't look back. She never looked back.
The cafeteria was loud, but the moment Madeline approached the table, the volume around Martin's usual spot dropped.
Martin didn't look up immediately, but his shoulders visibly tensed. He knew her footsteps and that stupid, fruity scent of hers. For months, they the two were operating in this suffocating, silent warfare, feeling miserable without each other and treating their breakup like a wound they refused to let heal. But seeing Zoe leaning so close to Martin and laughing at something on his phone, pushed Madeline past her limit.
Zoe noticed her first. She blinked, her smile faltering slightly under Madeline's icy gaze. "Oh, hey Madeline."
Madeline didn't answer. She didn't even look Zoe in the eye. Instead, she reached down, picked up Zoe's half-eaten sandwich from her plate, and held it up by the crust with two fingers, inspecting it with deep disgust.
"Is this yours?" Madeline asked, her voice soft, dripping with a terrifyingly sweet concern.
"Um, yeah?" Zoe said, shifting uncomfortably.
Madeline dropped it back onto the tray with a heavy thud. "Right. Well, I was just over there talking to Phoebe, and we were wondering if you could maybe move your things to a different table? Or, honestly, just eat outside."
Zoe's face paled. "What? Why?"
"Because you're making people uncomfortable." Madeline said simply, tilting her head. "The way you breathe when you chew is really loud, and frankly, nobody at this table wants to sit next to someone who looks like they scavenged their outfit from a dumpster, let alone look at that skin up close while trying to eat. It's repulsive, Zoe. The least you could do is hide out in a bathroom stall so the rest of us don't have to suffer through looking at that face."
A sudden, dead silence fell over the surrounding tables. Zoe sat there frozen, her lips parting as a sharp, humiliating sting hit her chest.
"Madeline shut up." Martin warned, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. He finally looked up, his eyes blazing, but she didn't look back at him. She kept her focus entirely on her prey.
"I'm not trying to be mean. I'm actually doing you a favor." Madeline continued, her tone conversational, like she was offering skincare advice. She leaned in a fraction closer, ensuring her voice carried across the aisle. "You've been trailing behind Martin for weeks like a desperate little dog, and it's getting really sad to watch, Zoe. He's just too polite to tell you that you smell, and that your little 'quirky girl' act is genuinely exhausting. Everyone is getting second hand embarrassment."
Madeline didn't wait for Zoe to pack up. With a look of casual boredom, she reached down, picked up Zoe's full cup of iced coffee, and poured it directly over her head. The dark, sticky liquid drenched Zoe's hair, soaked through her charity-bin cardigan, and left her gasping in pure shock as the entire cafeteria erupted into a stunned, jaw-dropped silence. "Aww, oops..." Madeline murmured, dropping the empty plastic cup onto the tray with a hollow clatter. "...looks like you needed a wash anyway."
Zoe's eyes welled with instant, hot tears. A girl at the next table gasped quietly. Zoe looked at Martin, then back at Madeline's unblinking, flawless face, before she pushed her chair back so violently it screeched against the tile. She grabbed her bag and bolted towards the exit, sobbing into her hand.
Martin sat there, completely paralyzed in a state of sheer disbelief. He stared up at Madeline, his jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched violently in his cheek. He looked at her as if she were a total stranger. An insufferable monster. He knew she was angry and that they were both drowning in the bitter aftermath of their split, but this level of harshness was sickening. It made him furious, but under the rage, it made him feel hopeless. She was completely out of control.
"You are disgusting." Martin spat out, the words heavy with hatred.
He didn't give her the satisfaction of an argument. He stood up, shoving his chair back, and stormed off after Zoe, his hand instantly reaching out to catch the double doors before they slammed shut.
Madeline stood alone in the gap he left behind. The entire cafeteria was watching her, waiting for a breakdown or a smirk. She kept her chin up, her posture rigid and perfect, her face a mask of indifference. She cleared the space. She got rid of the girl. But as she stared at the empty doorway where Martin ran out to comfort someone else, a sharp, suffocating panic caught in her throat. The confidence in her chest completely collapsed, leaving behind a hollow, aching pressure that made her eyes burn.
The Halloween party at Stacey Chen's house was legendary. Everyone knew it, and everyone went. Even the kids who pretended they were too cool for high school parties showed up eventually, lurking in corners with red plastic cups and expressions of profound boredom.
Madeline arrived with Woojin at her side, dressed as a version of herself but more. More glitter and more skin. Her costume was a "fallen angel," complete with tattered wings and a halo that sat crookedly on her head.
Woojin was dressed as a vampire. Because of course he was. He spent forty-five minutes trying to convince Madeline to match with him, suggesting they go as a "dark immortal couple," which she vetoed with a smile so sharp it could cut glass.
"Let's get a drink..." Madeline said, tugging him towards the kitchen. "...I need something to take the edge off."
Madeline didn't need to take the edge off. She needed to find Martin. That's what the edge was, really, has always been. The gnawing, insistent itch that flared up whenever she was in the same room as him and not actively engaged in trying to destroy him.
She spotted him in the living room, surrounded by a group of people who were hanging on his every word. He had that effect on people. He was wearing a black t-shirt with some obscure band logo on it, ripped jeans, and a leather jacket that was probably his dad's. His hair was a mess. His smile was drunk and lopsided. He looked like every mistake she ever made and every one she wanted to make again.
Martin was in the middle of some story, gesturing animatedly, and the people around him were laughing. One of them, a girl Madeline recognized immediately, was touching his arm, her fingers lingering on the sleeve of his jacket.
Madeline's hand tightened around her cup. The plastic cracked, just slightly, sending a trickle of red juice down her fingers.
"We should dance!" She said abruptly, turning to Woojin. "I want to dance."
Woojin blinked. "But you said you hated dancing."
Madeline grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the room. The music was loud, thumping in her chest like a second heartbeat. She pressed herself against Woojin and started grinding in a way that captivated him and in a way that she knew would draw attention.
She saw Martin's head turn. His eyes found her immediately. She noticed the brief flicker of something. Jealousy? Before his face smoothed into that infuriating mask of nonchalance.
The bass hit first, a low thrum that vibrated through the floorboards and up through the soles of Madeline's heels. The song shifted into something silkier, more dangerous. The opening notes of "Naughty Girl" by Beyoncé curled through the crowded living room like smoke.
All night, Madeline watched Martin from across the room laughing with that Zoe girl who kept touching his arm like she had any right to. Watching him pretend he didn't see her or that she existed.
Well. She would make him see her now.
Martin smiled. And then he pulled out his phone and started filming her.
Madeline's blood went cold, then hot. The humiliation washed over her in waves, mingling with the anger, and she had to physically stop herself from marching over there and smashing the phone out of his hands.
"What's wrong?" Woojin asked, his voice fuzzy and distant. "You look upset."
"I'm fine." Madeline spat. She always said that. It was easier than explaining the truth.
They continued dancing. Woojin's movements were stiff and awkward. He swayed with her, his hands finding her waist.
Madeline didn't care. Woojin wasn't the one she was performing for anyway.
She moved against him,her hips tracing circles that had nothing to do with the beat and everything to do with the eyes she could feel burning into the back of her skull. She arched her back, letting her hair fall away from her face, letting the dim light catch the curve of her neck. Her hands found Woojin's shoulders, then slid down his chest, and she felt him stiffen under her touch.
"You're really into this tonight." He said, his voice strained.
Madeline turned around, pressing her back against his chest, and let her body move. Her hips rolled in slow, lazy figure-eights, her arms lifted above her head and her fingers splayed like she was reaching for something. The gold chain around her neck caught the light, glinting with every sway of her body.
She could feel him watching her. Martin. She could feel the weight of his gaze, impossible to ignore.
She pushed harder. Let her movements become more exaggerated and provocative. She dipped low, ran her hands down her thighs, rose back up with a sinuous roll of her spine that made someone in the crowd whistle. Her short dress that hugged every curve, rode up just slightly, and she didn't bother to fix it.
Woojin's hands tightened on her hips. His breathing was shallow, his body reacting in ways that were obvious and slightly pathetic. He was completely lost in her, drowning in the performance, unable to see that she wasn't dancing for him at all.
"Madeline..." He murmured against her ear, his voice thick. "...maybe we should-"
"Keep quiet." She twisted in his arms, facing him again, but her eyes drifted over his shoulder, searching for someone.
Martin looked like he wanted to kill someone. He looked like he wanted to slaughter Woojin. He looked like he wanted to cross the room and drag her away from him, and the thought sent a thrill through her.
Martin watched Madeline dance with Woojin and felt something in his chest crack open. It was that familiar feeling, the same one that was eating away at him for two years. He got good at ignoring it and burying it under layers of sarcasm and performative nonchalance.
But it was still there. It was always there.
He lowered his phone, the recording forgotten. The smile slipped from his face. He could feel Zoe pressing closer, her fingers tracing patterns on his arm.
"You okay?" Zoe asked. "You look kind of...intense."
"I'm fine." Martin said, the same lie Madeline told Woojin. It tasted bitter in his mouth.
He should let it go. He should walk away, find Juhoon, get drunk and forget about the whole thing. That was the smart play. That was what a reasonable person would do.
But Martin was never reasonable when it came to Madeline.
He got up abruptly and pushed through the crowd, leaving Zoe behind without a second glance. The music seemed to get louder as he approached the dance floor, the bass thrumming through his bones. He could see Madeline's hair, the curve of her spine and the way her body moved against Woojin's. She was trying to provoke him...
"Hey..." Martin called, loud enough to be heard over the music. "...Mads!"
She turned around, her eyes widening just slightly before they shuttered. "Martin. What do you want?"
He held up his phone, the screen still recording. "Just wanted to get a good shot of you making a fool of yourself. Figured I'd post it to the school page later. You know, for posterity."
The words came out meaner than he intended. That was the problem with Martin. He never knew where the line was until he already crossed it.
Madeline's expression flickered. For just a moment, he saw something wounded under the perfection. And then it was gone, replaced by the cold mask she wore all the time.
"Go ahead..." Madeline said, her voice dripping with disdain. "...post it. That's all you're good for, isn't it? Taking cheap shots from the sidelines. Pathetic like you've always been."
Woojin stepped forward, his hand on Madeline arm. "Maybe you should back off, man. She's not interested."
Martin laughed, the sound harsh and hollow. "Oh, I know she's not interested. She only cares about herself. She collects people like trophies, uses them up like a tramp, and then tosses them aside. You're just the latest in a long line, Woojin. Enjoy it while it lasts."
He saw Madeline flinch and the flash of pain in her eyes. It was the same pain he felt when she laughed at him in the winter formal and told the whole school he meant nothing to her.
He wanted to hurt her back and he succeeded. So why did it feel like he was the one bleeding?
"I fucking hate you." Madeline said, her voice barely audible over the music.
Martin smiled, his expression razor-sharp. "I know. That's the only thing you've ever been honest about."
He turned around and walked away.
The English project was announced on a dreary November morning, a day where the sky hung low and gray and everyone's existential dread was at an all-time high.
"This is going to be the biggest project of the year..." Mrs. Peters announced, her voice bright with enthusiasm that no one else felt. "...you will be creating a detailed roadmap of your life for the next ten years. Career, relationships, personal goals. Everything. I want to see who you are and who you want to become!"
Madeline stared at the outline on the board and felt her stomach drop. A roadmap of her life? Ten years? Every step of her life was predetermined. Her parents already did this for her. She would go to Harvard, then law school, then a prestigious firm and finally, a husband who could further her career or, at the very least, not detract from it. Have two-point-five children, a house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and a golden retriever named something sensible like Max Verstappen or Sam.
It never occurred to her to ask what she truly wanted for herself.
Across the room, Martin was slouched in his chair, his feet propped up on the desk in front of him. He looked like he didn't sleep in days. He had dark circles under his eyes, hair sticking up at odd angles and an air of total disengagement from everything around him.
Mrs. Peters cleared her throat. "Mr. Edwards, perhaps you could contribute something more than disdain to this discussion."
Martin blinked, straightening slightly. "Oh, I'm contributing plenty. My contributions just happen to be in the form of healthy skepticism. Ten-year plans are for people who think they're in control of their lives. Spoiler alert: they're not."
There was a ripple of laughter through the room. Mrs. Peters' expression tightened.
"That's very philosophical for someone who still hasn't turned in last week's essay."
"Procrastination is a lifestyle choice, Mrs. P. You have to respect the commitment."
Madeline watched him, her pen frozen over her notebook. There was something different about the way he was acting today. The usual bravado felt more brittle. Like a mask that was starting to crack.
She heard from Juhoon that he got into a big fight with his dad about college. That his parents wanted him to apply to business schools, go the safe route and make something of himself. Martin told them that he was going to audition for a music program across the country, and they laughed in his face.
She wasn't supposed to care. He made sure of that. But the thought of him giving up his music and letting his family crush the only thing that made him him...made something twist in her chest.
She looked away before he could catch her staring.
The winter formal came and went. Madeline went with Woojin. Martin went alone. They avoided each other with the determination of two people who memorized each other's habits, tells and weak points.
They still managed to find each other anyway.
It happened in the parking lot afterwards, when everyone was drifting towards their cars and the night was crisp and cold and full of stars. Madeline broke away from Woojin to find some peace and quiet. She needed to get away from his desperate hands and his even more desperate questions about why she seemed so "distant" tonight. Instead, she found Martin sitting on the hood of his beat-up car, staring up at the sky.
Madeline knew she should have walked away.
"God, why do I always have to run into you of all people." She sighed and said instead, rolling her eyes.
"My parking spot mind you." Martin frowned.
Madeline stared at him, that infuriating smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. His tuxedo was rumpled, his bowtie undone and hanging loose around his neck. He looked like he got into a fight...and lost.
"This isn't your parking spot..." She said flatly. "...you don't have a parking spot. You drive a piece of junk that barely qualifies as a vehicle."
"Ouch. Right in the self-esteem."
Madeline rolled her eyes. "Anyways, your stinky girlfriend Zoe is looking for you." She said.
Martin turned around, his expression unreadable. "Your crybaby boyfriend is probably looking for you too."
"He's not my boyfriend. We're just...seeing each other."
"Riiiight. Seeing each other. That's what they're calling it these days."
"Why do you care?" The question slipped out before she could stop it. "Why do you always have to..." She stopped, shaking her head. "...never mind. It doesn't matter."
But Martin was already standing and walking towards her, and suddenly they were face to face, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his eyes and the faint scar above his eyebrow from the time they fell out of the treehouse together.
"I care because you're making a mistake..." Martin said, his voice low and intense. "...you've changed you know. And not in a good way."
Madeline laughed bitterly. "You're one to talk. You're always busy pretending you don't care that you're about to throw away everything you've ever wanted. That's not cute."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I heard about the audition from Juhoon. The music program. Your dad is trying to stop you, right?"
Something flickered in his eyes. Surprise, then wariness. "Why do you care? You hate me, remember?"
"You said it at the party. You said you fucking hated me. Those were your exact words."
She opened her mouth to argue, to tell him that she was angry at his harsh words, that she never meant it and that of course she didn't hate him. But the words wouldn't come out. They were trapped somewhere in her throat, tangled up with all the other things she never said.
"I was angry..." Madeline said finally. "...I didn't mean it."
"Yes, you did. And that's okay, Mads. You're supposed to hate me. That was the deal, remember? The pact? But then sometimes I get scared that you mean it or you don't want anything to do with me anymore. You're a different person lately."
The word hit her like a physical blow. She looked around, suddenly paranoid, but the parking lot was empty except for them and the fading echoes of the party.
"Don't talk about that..." Madeline hissed. "...not here."
"Why not? Because it's the truth? Because we made a choice, and now we have to live with it?" Martin stepped closer, and she could feel the heat radiating off of him. "We broke up to make each other stronger. And look at us now. We're both miserable."
"Bullshit. You're dating a guy whose personality is basically just daddy's money, you're always with a different guy every second week because you're never truly fulfilled with each one, you're awfully mean to people, you're forced to be on a path that's been laid out for you since birth and you're so scared of disappointing your parents that you've forgotten how to be happy."
"How dare you stand there and pretend like you know me. You don't. You don't know anything!" Madeline frowned.
"I know you used to laugh. I mean really laugh, not that fake thing you do now. You used to be such a nice person and now you're insufferable and rude. What you did to Zoe was really uncalled for."
Madeline couldn't speak. The tears were coming, and she couldn't stop or hide them. Hearing this from Martin, the one boy whose opinion she really only ever cared about, made her want to crawl into a hole and never come out. For the first time ever, she felt embarrassed. Two years of pretending, two years of performing and two years of being the person everyone feared, detested or expected her to be, and her façade was all crumbling around her.
"Well she deserved it for being so close to you-"
"See this is exactly what I'm talking about Madeline. You seriously need to grow up!-"
"I need to grow up? Oh that's rich coming from you. You're a total hypocrite, Martin."
Martin's jaw tightened, the accusation hitting exactly where it hurt, but he looked at Madeline dead in the eyes. "Maybe I am. But I'd rather be a hypocrite than a malicious, insecure bitch." The words hung heavily in the freezing air, shocking them both. His chest heaved with a toxic mix of adrenaline and pure frustration. He hated how easily she crawled under his skin, and he hated himself for still caring enough to be this angry. Martin spun on his heel and stormed off into the building, his boots crunching violently against the gravel as he left her standing alone in the cold.
The new year arrived without fanfare. Madeline broke up with Woojin on New Year's Day, in a conversation that was polite and sterile and left her feeling nothing at all. He took it well, probably because he was already eyeing some grade 11 from the debate team.
"I applied to Harvard early for early action. Just waiting on a response from them..." Madeline told her mother at dinner that week. "...that's what you want, right?"
Her mother beamed. "Of course, sweetheart! I knew you'd make the right decision."
She didn't tell her mother about the application she secretly filled out to another university across the country. The one with the creative writing program she was researching late at night, when she was supposed to be studying. Columbia university was three thousand kilometres away from everything she ever knew.
And the one where Martin's music school was located. Even though they hadn't spoken for weeks, nearly a month, Madeline still couldn't stop thinking about him and what he said to her that night at the winter formal.
Valentine's Day was a disaster, as Valentine's Day always was at Crestwood High. The hallways were decorated with hearts and Cupids. The cafeteria served pink-frosted cupcakes. Everyone was either coupled up or desperate to be.
Madeline spent the day ignoring the whole thing. She texted a few polite messages to her exes: Woojin, the guy from lacrosse and the brief, ill-advised fling with the student teacher who transferred to another school and then she turned off her phone and retreated to the library.
That's where Martin found her.
"The party is downstairs you know. Everyone is trying to get laid. It's a hard watch."
Madeline looked up to find Martin standing there, shifting his weight nervously, his leather jacket smelling like the crisp February air. His ego was practically screaming at him to turn around and walk away, but the ache of missing her for the last two months finally overrode his pride.
"What do you want, Martin?" She asked, her voice sharp but lacking its usual venom.
"I wanted to apologize for what I called you at the winter formal. It was out of line, and...I'm sorry. Truly." He blurted out. He took a seat opposite her, his dark eyes intensely serious.
Madeline looked up from her book, surprised and caught off guard. She recovered her composure instantly. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and tilting her head with that familiar, regal authority. "Wow. An actual apology from the great Martin Edwards." She murmured, a feisty, teasing spark returning to her eyes. "I mean, it's a start. But you called me a bitch. You can't just say 'sorry' and expect me to throw myself back into your arms." She leaned forward, a quirky, triumphant little smile playing on her lips. "You're going to have to actually earn it. And trust me, I am very expensive to please."
Martin let out a quiet, breathless laugh, the heavy tension in his chest finally cracking as he looked at her. "Right..." He said softly, a genuine smile tugging at his mouth. "I know. On that note, Juhoon is throwing a party at his place later. I would like for you to come with me."
"Don't say you don't want to. Juhoon said to tell you that he would really love for you to be there."
She wanted to argue, but then again she was drifting through the past few weeks like a ghost, going through the motions of her life without actually feeling any of it. She needed to get out a bit.
"Fine." She said. "I'll go."
Martin grinned, and for a moment, it was like they were younger again, like none of the years of hurt ever happened. "I'll pick you up at eight."
"Who said you were picking me up?"
"I did. Now shut up and finish your book. You're making me look like a bad influence."
Juhoon's party was exactly the chaotic, reckless thing Madeline needed. The house was packed with people, music blasting from speakers in every room, and the energy was infectious. She found herself laughing at something Juhoon said, and the sound of it surprised her.
Martin was across the room, talking to Zoe again, who was clearly still trying to make a move. He was polite but distant, his eyes flicking towards Madeline every few seconds.
Later, when the party was winding down and most people went home, she found Martin on the back porch, staring up at the stars.
"Hey..." She said, sliding onto the porch swing next to him. "...your girlfriend is looking for you."
"Not my girlfriend..." He didn't look at her, but she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. "...I'm not really into the whole relationship thing, you know?"
"Yeah, I've noticed..." Madeline bumped her shoulder against his. "...but I'm also pretty sure you're a lying liar who lies."
"Is that supposed to be an attack?"
"More of a fact." Madeline shrugged.
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the music drifting from inside. The night was cold and clear, and the stars were scattered across the sky like glitter.
"I got into the music program." Martin said finally.
Madeline's heart lurched. "Wow, look at you! That's amazing, Martin."
"Meh, it's nothing. I probably won't go anyway. My dad is quite clear about that."
"Why would you give it up?"
"Because..." He stopped, then shook his head. "...it's complicated."
He turned to look at Madeline, and his eyes were so full of things he wasn't saying that it hurt to look at him. "Because I can't leave you."
The words hung in the air.
"I don't..." She shook her head. "...what are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about the pact. The reason we broke up in the first place..." He laughed, humourless. "...we were so young, Mads. We thought we could separate for two years, become the people we wanted to be, and then just...reunite. Like a movie or something. And it was supposed to make us stronger. But all it did was change us and make us miserable."
"You're not supposed to talk about that."
"I'm tired of not talking about it! I can't pretend anymore." He reached for her hand, his fingers cold against hers. "I'm tired of watching you walk away, filming you and mocking you because it's the only way I know how to get your attention. I'm tired of being the guy who makes you hate him."
"Let me finish." His voice was trembling, but he pushed on. "Even if I end up going to that school, playing music, failing or succeeding and letting whatever happens happen, I want you to know that if you ever need me...for anything...I'll drop everything. I mean it, Mads. I'll drop it all."
"You can't just say things like that." Madeline frowned.
"Why not? It's the truth."
The music from inside faded into something slower. She leaned into him, her head on his shoulder, and let herself imagine what it would be like if things were different.
"What if we didn't have to wait?" She whispered.
"What if we just...stopped pretending? Right now. And decided to be together and everyone else could go to hell?"
He was quiet for a long moment. Then he laughed softly. "Is that what you want?"
"Yes. No. I don't know." Madeline pulled back, feeling frustrated. "I have this application to Columbia. It's near where your school is. I applied without telling anyone because I didn't think I'd get in, but then I did, and now I don't know what to do."
Martin stared at her. "You got into a school near me?"
"I know it's stupid. We haven't even...said the words or made it official or whatever. But I've been so scared, Martin. I've been so scared of losing you again, and I thought if I went somewhere new and close to you, maybe we could-"
Martin kissed her before she could finish.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was desperate, hungry and filled with two years of longing, and when she kissed him back, she felt something in her chest unlock.
He let out a growl against her mouth, his hands coming up to frame her face, his thumbs digging into her jaw to hold her still. Their breathing turned into ragged gasps as they fought for air without wanting to break the contact. He shifted, his arm locking around her waist to pull her against his chest, lifting her slightly just to feel her closer. Madeline was the only air he wanted.
"I love you..." Martin muttered against her lips, the words breathless as he dragged his mouth across her jaw then neck, his lips hot and damp against her skin before anchoring back to her mouth. "...I've always loved you Madeline. I never stopped."
Madeline pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his face. She could see the vulnerability there, the way he laid himself bare for her. But instead of saying the words back and giving him what he so clearly wanted, she tilted her head and let a slow, wicked smile spread across her face.
"That's adorable." Madeline said, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. "Really, Martin. Very cute. I'm sure you've been practicing that speech all week."
"You know, for someone who's spent the last two years filming me like I'm a zoo animal and making my life a living hell, you sure do have a lot of nerve sitting here and telling me you love me." She reached up and patted his cheek condescendingly. "I mean, really. The audacity."
Martin stared at her, his expression caught between hope and frustration. "You don't mean that."
"I don't?" She laughed teasingly. "I'm just saying, if this is your idea of a grand romantic gesture, you might want to work on your delivery. The whole 'I've been tormenting you for two years because I love you' thing is a little...on the nose, don't you think?"
"Mads, I'm being serious."
"And I'm being serious too." Her smile softened, just barely, and she reached up to touch his face. "I think it's really, really sweet that you love me. But if you think I'm just going to fall into your arms and say it back after everything you've put me through-"
"Then what do you want me to do?"
She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "Grovel. And maybe stop filming me like I'm a nature documentary. That would be a good start."
"Shut up and kiss me again, Edwards."
For a few weeks, everything was perfect. Their birthdays, which were two days apart, were celebrated with their closest friends and families. They were careful at school. Nothing too obvious, no PDA that would raise eyebrows. But everyone knew something changed. Madeline was happier, a little less meaner. Martin was softer. Somehow, his grades improved.
They spent their afternoons in the treehouse, the same one they built as kids, making plans for the future together.
"You're really going to do it?" Martin asked, his head on her lap as she played with his hair.
"I'm going to do it..." Madeline smiled down at him. "...I'm going to go to Columbia. I don't care what my mom says."
He reached up and tangled his fingers with hers. "You know I love you, right?"
"I know." She kissed his forehead.
It was the happiest Madeline ever was. And she should have known it wouldn't last.
Her parents found the acceptance letter.
Madeline should have known something was wrong the moment she walked through that door. She hid it in her desk drawer, behind the yearbooks and the old photographs. Her mother was looking for a checkbook. It was a coincidence, an accident and a stupid, simple mistake that shattered everything.
"Columbia?" Her mother's voice was ice. "What is this?"
Madeline stood in the doorway of the study, her heart pounding so hard she could barely hear. "It's college. I applied and I got in."
"Columbia is three thousand kilometres away! We've been planning for Harvard since you were twelve Madeline. What is wrong with you?!"
"Nothing's wrong with me!" She was shaking, but she forced her voice to stay steady. "This is what I want. It's what I've always wanted mom, I just didn't-"
"What you want?" Madeline's mother repeated, the words dripping with disdain. "Do you think I wanted to give up my career to raise you? Do you think I wanted to spend eighteen years of my life making sure you had every opportunity, every advantage and every single thing you could possibly need to succeed?? I sacrificed everything for you, Madeline. Everything. And this is how you repay me?"
"I didn't ask you to sacrifice anything."
"You didn't have to. That's what mothers do. We sacrifice. We give. We pour ourselves into our children so they can have the lives we never could. And you want to throw it all away for what? A boy? A writing degree that won't get you a job? A fantasy?!"
"This isn't about a boy! This is about me!"
"Don't get smart with me little girl. I know he's the one filling your head with these ridiculous ideas! He's a distraction. He has no direction! He's going to ruin your future if you let him." Her mother stepped closer, her eyes blazing. "You are going to Harvard. You are going to be a lawyer. You are not going to throw everything away for some grungy, unkempt musician who can't even keep his DAMN IQ up."
"Don't talk about him like that. You don't know him-" Madeline's eyes were stinging with tears now.
The slap came out of nowhere.
It was fast and brutal, the sound of it cracking through the study like a gunshot. Madeline's head snapped to the side, and she felt the sting bloom across her cheek. Her hand flew to her face, pressing against the skin, and she could feel the heat of the impact radiating through her fingers.
Her mother was standing there, breathing hard, her hand still raised, her eyes wild with madness.
"Don't you ever talk back to me." Her mother said, her voice low and trembling.
Madeline stared at her. The tears were coming, but she refused to let them fall. She refused to give her mother that satisfaction.
"You just just hit me." Madeline said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Because you needed to be taught a lesson. This isn't a game, Madeline. This is your life. And if you throw it away, you will regret it. You will spend every single day of your life regretting it, just like I did."
"I'm not you!" Madeline's voice was shaking, but she forced the words out. "I'm not going to end up BITTER like you."
"You're going to be nothing if you keep this up. One day you're going to look back on this moment and wish you listened to me." Madeline's mother said.
"No. I won't. I'm gonna wish I stood up to you sooner."
The silence that followed was deafening. They stood there, mother and daughter, facing each other across the study, the space between them feeling like an ocean.
"Get the hell out." Her mother demanded, her voice cold. "Get out of my sight."
Madeline didn't move. She stood there, her hand still pressed to her burning cheek.
"You can't control me..." She said quietly. "...not anymore, mom. I'm not a child. I'm not your puppet. I'm not your second chance at a life you threw away. I am my own person, and I'm going to make my own choices, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."
"Fine. But if you walk out that door, you're on your own. No money. No support. No family. You understand? You will be nothing."
Madeline was in disbelief. She wanted to fight her mom. She wanted to scream and rage and refuse to back down. But the pressure was too immense. She was raised to please them, to be the perfect daughter, and the thought of disappointing them was a weight she couldn't bear. Ever.
So she did what she always did when it came to them. She gave in.
Madeline couldn't tell Martin. She tried to, so many times. She would open her mouth to say the words, and then she would look at his face, at the hope shining in his eyes, and the words would die in her throat.
How could she tell him that she failed? That she was too weak to stand up to her parents? That she was going to Harvard after all, three thousand kilometres away from him and everything she wanted?
She couldn't. So she decided not to tell him at all. She would leave quietly, slip away in the chaos of graduation, and let him think she just...vanished. It was cowardly and cruel. But it was the only way she could think of to protect him.
He would get over her eventually. She had to believe that.
The ceremony was interminable. Speeches and names and the rustle of caps and gowns. Madeline sat in her assigned seat, staring straight ahead, not daring to look at Martin in the row behind her. She could feel his gaze on the back of her neck, warm and questioning.
She was avoiding him for weeks. He tried to talk to her, ask what was wrong, and she brushed him off every time. She could see the hurt in his eyes, the confusion, and it made her chest ache.
After the ceremony, everything was chaos. Families swarming, cameras flashing, people crying, laughing and hugging. Madeline took one last look around the gymnasium at the school she hated, the people she pretended to love, the boy she loved so much it hurt. And then she slipped out the side door.
She drove to the airport in a daze. Her parents were meeting her there. The flight was at six. She had three hours to get on a plane and leave everything behind.
Martin searched for her everywhere. The gym, the parking lot and the treehouse. She wasn't at any of them. His phone buzzed with calls and texts, all from people who wanted to congratulate him, and he ignored every single one. His cap was somewhere in the crowd, lost in the sea of black and gold. His gown was unzipped, hanging open over his wrinkled button-down. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat.
Martin pulled out his phone, his fingers shaking as he typed out a text.
Where are you? I've been looking everywhere. Text me back okay.
The message delivered. He waited. One minute. Two. Three.
He tried calling but it went straight to voicemail.
"Hey, it's me..." He said, his voice strained. "...I don't know where you are, but I need to see you. I need to talk to you. Please. Just...call me back. Please."
He hung up and stared at the screen, willing it to light up with her name. Nothing.
Martin's mind was racing. What if something happened? What if her parents took her? What if she changed her mind about everything? What if she decided that he wasn't worth it after all, that the whole plan was a mistake?
"Hey, man." Juhoon found him outside of the gym, looking worried. "What's going on? Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"She's not here. I think she already left." Juhoon answered.
"I don't know. Her parents weren't at the ceremony. They're probably still upset with her after the fight..." Juhoon hesitated. "...or maybe they took her to the airport. She said she's supposed to fly out today."
Martin's blood went cold. "Wait wait wait wait wait, what fight? What airport?"
"I don't know. She was rambling on about a fight with her mom and that she threatened to cut her off completely if she didn't accept Harvard's offer for an early start. She's leaving today." Juhoon explained.
Martin felt like he was punched in the gut. "She didn't tell me. She didn't say anything."
"She probably couldn't. You know how her mom is. That woman is..." Juhoon stopped, shaking his head. "...look, man, I'm sorry. I know this is a lot. But if you want to catch her, you need to go now. Her flight is at six."
Martin checked his watch. 5:15 pm.
"Oh my God." He was already running towards his car, his legs pumping and lungs burning. "I have to get there. I have to stop her."
"Martin, wait!" Juhoon was running after him. "You can't drive. You're too freaked out. Let me take you."
"Let me drive." Juhoon grabbed his arm, pulling him back. "Get in the car. Now."
Martin didn't argue. He yanked open the passenger door of his beat-up car and threw himself inside. Juhoon was in the driver's seat a second later, the engine roaring to life.
"Buckle up." Juhoon said, and then they were flying.
The drive to the airport was a blur. Martin stared out the window, his heart pounding. The city sped past him. It all felt surreal, like he was watching himself from outside his own body.
"How long has she known?" Martin asked, his voice strained.
Juhoon's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I don't know. I only heard about it yesterday. I assumed you knew too. But she's been acting weird for weeks, right? Avoiding you?"
Martin thought back to the past few weeks. The way she pulled away from his touch, the way she stopped meeting his eyes and the way she made excuses to leave early to go home and be anywhere but with him.
"She didn't want me to get hurt." He said, the realization hitting him.
"Or she was scared of telling you and what you would say."
"Why would she be though?" Martin laughed. "I love her. I would follow her anywhere. I'd give up everything for her. My music. My whole stupid life. Everything."
"That's exactly what she was afraid of. She didn't want you to make that choice and give up your dream for her."
"It's not a choice though Juhoon! It never was. She's my dream. She has always been my dream. We grew up together. You know how much I care for her."
Juhoon was quiet for a moment. Then he said, his voice soft, "I know. That's why we're going to catch her."
The airport was crowded, a sea of anonymous faces. Martin pushed through the crowds, ignoring the angry shouts and muttered curses. He had to find her. He had to stop her.
He spotted her in the security line, her hair a beacon in the chaos. She was wearing a simple sundress, a little bit of makeup and she looked so exhausted that it broke his heart.
She didn't turn around. The noise of the terminal was too loud with overwhelming chaos.
"Mads!" He shouted again, louder this time.
She turned around, her eyes widening. "Martin?? How did you-"
"You can't leave." He reached her, ignoring the stares from the people around them. "You can't just go without saying anything."
"I couldn't. I tried to tell you, but I couldn't." Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"Tell me what? That you're going to Harvard? That you're leaving me?"
She flinched. "It's not that simple."
"The hell it isn't." He grabbed her hands, holding them tight. "Come with me. We'll figure it out. We'll get married, or I'll move, or whatever it takes. Just don't leave me. Please."
Madeline laughed."You make it sound so easy. You think I chose this? I wanted to leave you behind?"
"Of course you didn't choose this. But we can fight together. Let me help you, Madeline. We can figure this out together."
"The line is moving, Martin." She looked at the TSA agent, who was motioning her forward. "I have to go."
"Then I'll come with you."
"What? That's insane! You have your own life and your own plans."
"Forget my plans! Forget everything. I'll come with you. We'll go to Harvard together. I'll find a job. I'll do whatever it takes. I don't care about any of it if you're not there."
"Martin, listen to me." She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. "You are not going to throw your life away for me and give up your music. And you certainly aren't going to follow me across the country and watch yourself become something you don't want to be. I won't let you."
"I can't let you go Madeline! I can't be happy without you." Martin heaved, feeling hopeless.
"Quit being so stubborn and crazy! You're being stupid and I love you so much it hurts."
"Then stay. Stay with me."
"I can't." She pulled her hands away. "I can't, Martin. My parents...they're going to cut me off if I don't do this. I can't support myself-"
"Then we'll figure it out."
"Not this time." She shook her head, her voice breaking. "I have to go. It's the only way."
The line moved forward. It was her turn. The TSA agent was waiting, her expression bored and impatient.
"Please." Martin said, his voice raw. "Please don't do this."
She reached out, touching his face one last time. "I love you." She said. "I always will."
And then she was gone, disappearing through the security checkpoint, leaving him alone in the crowded airport with nothing but the echo of her voice.
Martin stood there for a long time. People flowed around him, a river of strangers, and he was frozen in the middle, unable to move.
Juhoon appeared at his side. "Martin? What happened?"
"She's gone." His voice was hollow and empty.
Juhoon put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I really am."
Martin didn't answer. He was staring at the security checkpoint, at the door she walked through and at the last place he saw her.
"I gave up my audition." He said quietly. "The music program. I told them I wasn't going."
"What? Martin, why would you do that?"
"Because I thought...there was still a chance. That we could be together. That all of it meant something." Martin shook his head. "It doesn't matter anymore."
Martin walked away, his shoulders hunched. He pulled out his phone. He stared at her contact photo. It was a picture of her laughing, her head thrown back, and felt his heart shatter all over again.
I love you... he typed. I'll always love you.
He pressed send, not expecting a reply.
The phone buzzed a moment later. He looked down, his heart in his throat.
I love you. Always. I'm sorry Martin.
He stared at the words for a long time. Then he turned off his phone and shoved it back in his pocket.
Outside, a plane lifted off into the darkening sky. Martin watched it go, knowing that somewhere on that plane was the girl he loved.
And knowing that he might never see her again.
The letter arrived on a Tuesday, a plain white envelope with no return address. Martin almost threw it away, assuming it was another bill or another rejection from a school he never wanted to attend.
But something made him open it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper, covered in familiar handwriting.
I don't know if you'll ever read this, but I need you to know the truth.
I didn't leave because I wanted to. I left because I was scared. Scared of disappointing my parents and failing. I was scared that if I stayed, I'd ruin you the way I ruined everything else.
But being here, at Harvard, doing everything they wanted me to do, I realised I'm not living. I'm just existing. And I've realized that the only time I was ever really alive was when I was with you.
I'm going to leave. I'm going to transfer to Columbia, the school I told you about. I've already been accepted. I know it's crazy and risky. But I'd rather be crazy and happy than safe and miserable.
I don't know if you still want me. I don't know if you've moved on. But I had to tell you the truth. I had to tell you that I'm coming back.
I love you, Martin. I always have.
Martin read the letter three times. And then he laughed, the sound echoing off the walls of his empty apartment.
"Crazy." He muttered, shaking his head. "She's absolutely crazy."
He grabbed his phone and started typing.
The airport was crowded, just like it was before. But this time, Martin wasn't chasing after someone. He was waiting. For about an hour, maybe longer. He lost track of time somewhere between the third cup of coffee and the fifth time he checked his phone for updates of her flight.
He saw her before she saw him. She was wearing the same sundress and the same tired but hopeful expression. She looked exhausted, like she never slept in days.
"Madeline!" Martin called out.
When she saw him, her face broke into a smile as bright as the sun. "Martin!"
Martin crossed the distance between them in three quick strides, pulling her into his arms. She crashed into him, her body colliding with his, and he wrapped his arms around her so tightly he was probably cutting off her circulation. She smelled like lavender and something underneath that was just her.
"You came." Madeline whispered into his chest.
"I told you I would." Martin's voice was thick, choked with emotion.
She pulled back, her eyes red-rimmed. She looked exhausted and so beautiful.
"Well?" Madeline started, tilting her chin up in that defiant way he missed so much. "Did you miss me? Of course you did. You probably spent every single day crying into your pillow, didn't you?"
Martin laughed. "Something like that."
"Good. As you should." She reached up and cupped his face, her thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "And you better not have been flirting with anyone else while I was gone. I'll be very upset if I find out you've been documenting other girls like they're some kind of exhibit."
"Only you, Mads. Only ever you."
In this economy??😭 Martin please.
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