𝓂𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓉𝒽𝓎𝓈𝓉

Day 1

The two-hour drive back to his hometown served as a decompression chamber. With every kilometer that put distance between him and the bustling streets of Seoul, the tension in Seonghyeon’s shoulders thawed.

When he finally pulled up to his childhood home and unlocked the front door, the familiar scent of savory soybean paste stew, garlic, and roasted sesame seeds washed over him like a warm blanket.

"Look who decided to grace us with his presence!" a voice chirped instantly.

His younger sister bounded into the entryway, a mischievous grin plastered across her face. Without even saying hello, she playfully yanked his duffel bag off his shoulder, unzipping it on the spot to inspect its contents. "What, no Seoul souvenirs for your favorite sister?"

"Hey, put that down, you brat," Seonghyeon laughed, reaching out to ruffle her hair, though she ducked out of the way with practiced ease.

Before their usual banter could escalate, his mother emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Her eyes softened the moment she saw him. "Seonghyeon-ah," she murmured, pulling him into a tight, enveloping embrace. She stepped back, cupping his face in her hands with that classic motherly scrutiny. "You've lost weight. Look at these dark circles. Are you even sleeping?"

"I'm sleeping fine, Mom," he lied gently, smiling down at her. "It's just good to be home."

"Sit down, both of you. Dinner is served," she ordered, though her expression was pure warmth.

That evening was blissfully, beautifully ordinary. They gathered around the low wooden table in the living room, surrounded by dozens of side dishes his mother had spent all morning preparing. Seonghyeon’s father asked about the recent comeback, but his questions had nothing to do with album sales or view counts; he only asked if Seonghyeon was eating well on the road and if his ankle was still bothering him after their intense choreography. Seonghyeon ate until he was completely stuffed, the quiet hum of his family's voices filling the room.

Late that night, long after their parents had gone to sleep, Seonghyeon and his younger sister sat out on the balcony wrapped in oversized hoodies, sipping hot tea while watching the quiet street below.

She spent an hour showing him the latest internet trends, rambling about her school drama, and proudly showing him videos of her dance cover team. Seonghyeon watched intently, giving her honest tips on her footwork, teasing her whenever she got embarrassed, but feeling a deep, quiet gratitude for how effortlessly normal it felt. In the idol world, he was an performer with millions of eyes on him; here, he was just an older brother who got scolded for taking the last piece of fruit.

"You're doing really well, Oppa," she said softly during a lull in their conversation, her tone suddenly dropping the usual playful sass. She bumped her shoulder gently against his. "We watch all your stages. Just... don't push yourself too hard, okay? We care about Seonghyeon, not just Cortis's Seonghyeon."

Seonghyeon looked down at her, a genuine smile touching his lips. "I know. Thanks, kiddo."

Day 2

If Day 1 was about reconnecting with his roots, Day 2 was about exhaling completely. The second day was reserved entirely for Y/N. They had planned a quiet getaway to a coastal town a few hours away a serene stretch of shoreline far enough from Seoul that Seonghyeon could pull down his black mask, strip away his hat, and just be a twenty-something guy deeply in love.

He picked Y/N up early in the morning, the sun barely peeking over the horizon. The moment she opened the car door and stepped inside, wearing an oversized knit sweater and a soft smile, all the residual exhaustion in Seonghyeon’s chest evaporated.

"Look who's off the clock," Y/N whispered fondly. Before she even pulled her seatbelt across, she leaned over and pressed a warm, lingering kiss to his cheek. "You look so rested already."

"I am now," Seonghyeon admitted, his voice low and soft. He reached over, weaving his fingers through hers and holding her hand firmly against the center console before shifting the car into drive.

The drive was filled with the soft hum of an indie playlist they had built together over months of late-night phone calls. When they reached the coast, the ocean stretched out before them in a breathtaking expanse of deep blue. They spent the afternoon wandering along a quiet, paved coastal trail that wound around rugged cliffs. The sea breeze was cool and sharp, carrying the salt-tinged air that seemed to clear out every bit of stress in Seonghyeon’s lungs.

For hours, they walked hand-in-hand. There were no cameras, no managers checking the time, and no lingering fear of being recognized. They talked about Y/N's work, shared inside jokes that made them laugh until their stomachs hurt, and stopped occasionally just to lean against the wooden railings and watch the waves crash against the rocks below.

As late afternoon approached, the sky began to bleed into brilliant shades of amber, violet, and soft pink. They found a small, quiet café tucked high on the cliffside, stepping inside to order hot lattes and a slice of cake.

Sitting by a large glass window overlooking the burning sunset, Seonghyeon rested his chin in his palm, his gaze fixed entirely on Y/N as she pointed out a small fishing boat cutting through the glowing water in the distance.

"What is it?" Y/N asked, pausing mid-sentence when she caught him staring with an unreadably tender expression. "Do I have cream on my face?"

"No," Seonghyeon murmured, a soft, slow smile spreading across his face. He reached across the small wooden table, lacing his fingers back through hers. "Just realizing how much I missed this. Just looking at you. Being here with you without having to look at my watch every five minutes."

Y/N’s eyes softened, squeezing his hand warmly in return. "I missed you too. So much."

They stayed at the café long after the sun dipped below the horizon, wrapped up in the simple luxury of each other's presence.

Day 3

For the final day of his break, Seonghyeon wanted to bridge the gap between his two safe havens. With his parents' enthusiastic permission, he invited Y/N to join his family for a long, relaxed Sunday lunch at a cozy, private traditional dining house on the green outskirts of his hometown.

Seonghyeon had been slightly nervous on the drive over wanting so badly for the people he loved most to get along but his anxieties proved completely unnecessary within five minutes of sitting down.

His mother greeted Y/N with overwhelming warmth, instantly pulling her into a hug and fussing over whether she was eating enough. Meanwhile, his younger sister took to Y/N immediately, treating her less like an older brother's girlfriend and more like the cool older sister she had always wanted.

"Oh, you want to know what he was like in high school?" his younger sister declared halfway through the meal, grinning wickedly across the spread of grilled dishes. "He used to practice dance moves in front of the hallway mirror for hours, and one time he accidentally kicked the laundry basket into the wall and broke it!"

"Hey! Spare me a little bit of dignity, please," Seonghyeon groaned, burying his face in his hands while his father chuckled warmly into his glass.

"I think it's sweet," Y/N teased, leaning close to Seonghyeon and lightly nudging his knee under the table with a subtle, affectionate wink. "It shows dedication."

"See? She gets it," his sister laughed, high-fiving Y/N across the table.

The afternoon stretched on effortlessly. They lingered over sweet rice punch and dessert, the room filled with genuine warmth, loud laughter, and shared stories. Seeing Y/N fitting so seamlessly into his family's dynamic watching her laugh at his sister's stories and converse warmly with his mother filled Seonghyeon with a deep, quiet sense of pride and peace.

Night fell all too quickly. After a long series of hugs, a trunk filled with more side-dish containers than Seonghyeon could count, and strict promises to visit again soon, he said goodbye to his family.

He drove back into Seoul to drop Y/N off at her apartment. Standing outside her door in the quiet hallway, the reality of tomorrow's packed schedule began to loom, but the weight of it felt entirely different now.

Y/N stepped into his space, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest. Seonghyeon held her tightly, breathing in the scent of her perfume and burying his face in her hair.

"Call me when you get back to the dorm," she whispered softly, looking up at him. "And good luck with practice tomorrow."

"I will," Seonghyeon said gently, leaning down to press a deep, lingering kiss to her lips. "Thank you for these three days. Truly."

An hour later, Seonghyeon unlocked the door to the Cortis dorms. The peaceful silence of his hometown was instantly replaced by the familiar chaos of his group: shouts echoing from the living room over a heated video game match, someone practicing vocals in the shower, and clothes scattered near the couch.

"He's back! The prodigal son!" one of the members yelled, spotting him at the entrance. "Did you bring the food?!"

You combed your fingers through his soft hair, your thumb gently caressing the warm skin of his neck, right where his pulse fluttered steadily. He let out a soft, contented sigh, his eyes fluttering shut as he melted into your touch.

"I missed this," he murmured, his voice thick with sleepiness. "I missed you. The practice room was hell today, Y/N. The choreo for the new comeback is insane."

"I know, baby," you whispered, smiling softly as you nudged a stray hair from his forehead. "You’ve been working so hard. I saw the teaser photos this morning. You look incredible."

"I only care if you think I look good," he muttered, a lazy, dimpled smile tugging at his lips. He turned his face into your stomach, breathing you in. "You're my safe space, Y/N. Seriously. Out there, everything is so loud... but here, with you, it’s quiet."

You kept your hand moving against his neck, but a quiet, sharp ache bloomed in your chest. You loved him. You loved him so fiercely it terrified you sometimes. You were endlessly proud of him proud of every late night he spent in the studio, every goal he smashed with CORTIS, every dream he was actively bringing to life. He belonged on a stage, shining bright for the world to see.

But nights like this were so rare. The secret rendezvous, the constant fear of being caught, the hidden glances, the looming threat of his agency finding out it weighed heavily on your shoulders.

Without thinking, the thought escaped your lips in a quiet, fragile whisper.

"I wish you weren't an idol sometimes..."

The atmosphere in the room instantly shifted.

Martin’s breathing paused. The lazy smile vanished from his face, replaced by a sudden, rigid stillness. He slowly opened his eyes, tilting his head up to meet your gaze.

"What?" he asked softly, his voice stripped of all its playful warmth.

Panicking slightly, you tried to smooth it over, your hand still trembling against his skin. "I-I didn't mean it like that, Martin. You know I'm so proud of you. I love seeing you follow your dreams, I really do. It's just... sometimes I wish we were normal. I wish I could hold your hand in public. I wish I didn't have to worry every time a car lingers outside my building."

Martin sat up quickly, turning on the couch to face you fully. The exhaustion in his eyes was replaced by a raw, desperate fear that made your heart drop.

"Y/N, look at me," he pleaded, reaching out to grasp both of your hands in his. His grip was firm, almost tight, as if he were afraid you were going to slip away right then and there. "Don't say that. Please."

"Martin-"

"No, Y/N, listen to me," he cut in, his voice cracking slightly. "I know this is hard. I know hiding sucks, and I hate that I have to hide the person I love most in this entire world. But don't talk like you're letting go. You are my anchor. You're the only thing that keeps me grounded when everything else feels like it's spinning out of control. If I lose you, none of this the music, CORTIS, the fame none of it means a damn thing."

"I'm not leaving you," you whispered, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. "I just worry."

"I won't let anything happen to us," he promised fiercely, pressing his forehead against yours so he could look directly into your eyes. "The guys know about us, and they've got our backs. Juhoon literally distracted our manager tonight so I could slip out the back door. I will protect you from the company. I'll protect you from the sasaengs. I don't care if I have to risk my entire career I will never lose you, Y/N. I can't."

Before you could reply, a harsh, metallic buzzing of Martin’s phone shattered the heavy silence in the room.

He snatched it off the coffee table, his eyes darting frantically across the screen. You held your breath, watching the blood drain from his face before a flicker of pure panic crossed his features.

James: MARTIN. GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE NOW. James: Manager hyung just randomly showed up at the dorm. He wants to hold an emergency meeting in the living room. Keonho: We lied and told him you’re in the shower right now to buy you time, but you know how hyung is. He’s already asking why the shower’s been running for twenty minutes. You need to get out of her apartment IMMEDIATELY.

Martin let out a ragged breath, running a hand through his hair. The immediate danger of being caught right at your doorstep wasn't knocking yet, but the clock was ticking, loud and relentless.

"I have to go," he whispered, turning back to look at you. The sudden rush of reality felt like cold water thrown over both of your heads.

"Go, go! What are you doing still sitting here?" You scrambled off the sofa, grabbing his heavy coat from the back of the chair and shoving it into his hands. "If he finds out you snuck out to see me, they’ll put a twenty-four-hour watch on you. He'll take your phone, Martin!"

"Y/N, wait-"

"No, Martin, don't wait!" Your hands were shaking as you helped him pull his arms through the sleeves of his oversized hoodie. "James and Keonho are taking a massive risk lying for you right now. If your manager walks into that bathroom and sees an empty shower, it’s over."

Martin grabbed your wrist, pulling you firmly against his chest before you could usher him toward the door. The coat fell to the floor between you. He wrapped his arms tightly around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in like a drowning man trying to catch one last lungful of air.

"I hate this," he choked out, his voice muffled against your skin. "I hate having to run from you like I’m doing something wrong. I just want to stay here. I just want to stay with you."

Your heart shattered into a million pieces. The pain in his voice was raw, almost unbearable. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him back just as fiercely, resting your cheek against his.

"I know, baby. I know," you whispered, fighting back the tears burning behind your eyes for his sake. "I love you so much. But you have to protect yourself right now. We'll have other nights, okay? Just go."

"I'm not letting them ruin us," he said fiercely, pulling back just enough to frame your face with his hands. His eyes were burning with an intense, desperate pledge. "I mean what I said before, Y/N. I’m doing everything I can to keep this secret to protect you from the media and the fans... but if the company ever tries to make me choose between this career and you? I will drop everything. I will walk away."

"Martin..."

"I'm serious," he insisted, his voice cracking with emotion. "You're my other half. You're the only person who keeps me sane in this insane world. I can't lose you. I won't lose you."

He leaned in and kissed you hard, desperate, and full of an aching devotion that left you breathless. It was a promise, a plea, and a reassurance all at once.

When he finally pulled away, he grabbed his beanie and mask, pulling them back on until only his soft, worried eyes were visible.

"Call me the second you get back to the dorm safely," you begged, opening the door just a crack to check the silent hallway. "Be careful down the stairs. Make sure nobody's watching."

"I will," he whispered. He squeezed your hand one last time, a tight, lingering hold before forcing himself to let go. "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too."