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Pairing: goldenRetriever!Seonghyeon x blackCat!reader
Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship
Synopsis: You and Seonghyeon couldn't be more different. He's color, noise, and warmth while you're quiet, monochrome, and content in your own little world. Neither of you has ever considered that a problem until Seonghyeon starts wondering if maybe you would be happier with someone who matches you better.
A/N: Haiiii!! I wrote this based off of your guys’ poll I took on golden retriever and black cat characters! I might make another fic some other time that’s more catered towards their actual personalities being opposite, but I hope this will do for now! I wrote this all today because I wanted to get something out about it! ENJOY!!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Your apartment was quiet as usual. Both sound wise and the look of it. The walls were white, furniture mostly black, and the occasional gray accent was around the house. Even your bed was made with gray sheets and a charcoal blanket, while your clothes were always folded and hung neatly. This was just the way you like everything. Calm, organized, and comfortable to live in. Everything…had its place.
And then…there was Seonghyeon. He was lying sideways across your couch in a bright blue hoodie, one leg hanging over the armrest and a pair of red-and-white sneakers abandoned by the front door. His green phone charger was plugged into the outlet beside your couch…but honestly you don't remember buying a green phone charger. Then again, you don't remember buying the little green keychain currently hanging from the handle of your kitchen cabinet, either.
You glance toward the chair. His red hoodie was draped over the back of it.
"You checkin’ out my hoodie?"
You look back at him. "No."
"You were, I saw."
"I was looking at the chair."
"Which happens to have my hoodie on it."
"Unfortunately."
He gasps. "Unfortunately?"
A tiny smile pulls at the corner of your mouth. "You're very loud."
"And yet you keep letting me come over and be loud."
You look at him for a moment. "Maybe I like the noise."
His expression immediately softened as he sat up quickly. "Really?"
You nod. "Really."
He smiled a smile so wide it really showed he was pleased with himself. Then he abruptly got up, walked over, and wrapped his arms around you. You let him, as always.
That's how the two of you have always been. You were the more reserved one, while Seonghyeon was the affectionate one without a second thought. Reaching for your hand when you walk, leaning against you when you sitting together, and hugging you when he sees you and again before he leaves. You don't usually initiate it, but you always make room for him. And Seonghyeon had never questioned that…since that was just how you guys were.
Until recently, he started to overthink.
♡
His apartment is the complete opposite of yours. The first time you stayed over, you stood in the doorway for a hot minute just looking around in awe. There was lots of color. Everywhere. Photos on every wall, little characters and action figures on shelves, random things he'd collected over the years, a colorful blanket tossed over the couch, and a ridiculously neon yellow lamp that still sometimes blinds you when it’s tuned on.
"What’s wrong?"
"I'm processing."
"Processing what?"
"You."
He laughs. "What's wrong with me?"
"Nothing." You walked farther inside. "I’m just not totally use to...a lot happening."
He grins. "You mean it's beautiful."
"Yeah. I mean there's a lot happening."
He laughed again, but somewhere in your relationship, his apartment started changing too. Little specs of you started seeping into his life. Your black hoodie hung over the back of his bedroom chair, your plain white mug sat beside his more colorful ones in the kitchen, and a black blanket you brought over once has somehow become a permanent part of his couch. There's even a small monochrome Skull Panda on one of his shelves that you’d gotten together on a date.
Your apartments don't become the same, obviously, but they don't need to. They just started carrying pieces of each other.
♡
His other friends met you properly after a group outing one night. You've met some of them separately before, but never like this. Never all together, sitting around with Seonghyeon while everyone talks over each other. You mostly listened since you always do that - and because they slightly overwhelmed you - and Seonghyeon knows that. He's halfway through an animated story when Keonho looked at you.
"You're so chill."
You blink. "Am I?"
"Very."
Juhoon huffed a laugh. “My twin for real.”
Martin laughed along with them, gesturing toward Seonghyeon. "This is so funny because Seonghyeon is literally-"
He looked over, offended. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Then everyone started laughing. "You two are such a surprising match."
You glanced at Seonghyeon to see his reaction, and you saw him softly laughing too. So, you gave a small shrug.
"I guess we are."
The conversation moved on after that. James started going on about this dance that’s taking him forever to figure out, Martin and Juhoon were talking together about a new game they just got, and Keonho kept stealing food from Seonghyeon's plate while he complained loudly. Everything seemed “normal” in your eyes. Or at least their definition of what normal was.
Except little did you know, it wasn’t. One thing had bothered Seonghyeon for the rest of the night.
“Surprising match.”
What was that even supposed to mean??
♡
Later, when you and Seonghyeon were leaving, you looked over at him. "Do you want to come back to my apartment?"
Usually, Seonghyeon answered before you've even finished asking since he loved coming to your place. Tonight though, he hesitated.
"Y…yeah."
But it was a quieter answer, and you noticed it…but just didn’t know why. When you got home, he didn’t immediately fling off his shoes and steal your couch space like usual. He simply just sat down at one of your chairs in the living room, clasping his hands in front of him. He didn’t even go to grab your blanket, or pull you into a lung-crushing hug.
You put your bag away in your closet before coming out and looking at him.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"You're being weird though."
"I'm not."
You stared at him for a while, but he didn’t dare meet your eyes.
"You haven't hugged me once."
His head snaps toward you. "What?"
"I’m not expecting one from you, but I’ve just noticed that you normally hug me when we get back home."
He blinks before laughing awkwardly.
"S…sorry."
He got up and started waking toward you.
You expected him to hug you, but instead, he stops in front of you.
"Do…you ever think we're too different?"
You frown.
"Different how?"
"Just..." He looked around at your apartment, gesturing toward the white walls, black furniture, and gray blanket before looking down at his own bright blue sleeves. "Like this."
You don't answer for a bit, and took a long breath.
"Everyone, including the boys tonight, always says we're ‘surprising’." His lifted his fingers to make air quotes before putting them down and fiddling with the cuff of his hoodie. "You're so calm. And I'm..."
"Loud?"
He gave you a look.
"Yeah." A tiny, embarrassed b smile appeared on his face. "I'm aware."
He laughed a little, but it disappeared quickly.
"You're quiet, and I'm always talking. Your apartment is black and white, and mine looks like a children's toy store exploded."
You glance toward your living room where his matching red and pink Skull Panda sat on a shelf. Slowly, you turned back to him and saw him looking down.
"Sometimes I wonder if I annoy you."
Your expression softened. "Seonghyeon."
"I know you don't say anything. You never have." He pauses. "But sometimes I wonder if I'm just...too much, you know?"
You take a small step closer, but he continues before you can interrupt.
"What if eventually you realize you'd rather be with someone who's more like you?" His voice was quieter now. "Someone who matches you better."
He looked embarrassed.
"And someone who's..." He laughed awkwardly. "I don't know. Hotter. More handsome. Someone who fits your vibe better."
You stare at him in the eyes, but he refuses to meet yours.
"Someone who isn't a walking rainbow throw up."
That made you smile. He finally looked at you after a while, so you quietly said his name again.
"Seonghyeon."
He waited, and you slowly reached for his hand. His head snapped down instantly when your fingers slide between his.
"Other people could be the prettiest shade of blue, but it wouldn't matter if my favorite color is white."
He went completely still, so you squeezed his hand as reassurance.
"Just because other people might like me doesn't mean I like them. I know I suck at saying it…but I love you."
He swallowed hard.
"That won't change." You lifted your free hand and gently brush his hair away from his forehead. "You don't have to change yourself to match me better."
His expression crumpled just slightly. Not sadness, exactly. But rather a flood of relief.
"I liked you in the first place because you were you honestly."
He lets out a tiny laugh. "Even though I'm annoying?"
"I don’t perceive it as annoyance."
"Wow."
You smiled longingly.
"You don't need to become quieter for me.” You gently smoothed down his hair. "I like you like this."
He looks at you for another second before pulling you into a hug.
“Then for the record, you don’t have to change for me either. I like everything about you.”
You tightened your arms around him, and even though he was startled, he deepened the hug too.
♡
Things don't change overnight. You're still the way you’ve always been, and you don't suddenly become a person who clings to him every second. Seonghyeon is also…still Seonghyeon. Louder, colorful at times, and incapable of telling a short story. But there is a shift that happened and both of you notice it.
One evening, he's sitting beside you on the couch when you quietly rest your head against his shoulder. He looked down immediately, assuming something was wrong.
"You okay baby?"
"Mhmm."
There was a pause. He looked around the room before glancing back at you.
"You sure? You never do this."
You lift your head slightly. "Do what?"
"Be affectionate."
You stare at him, not offended but confused. "Do you want me to stop?"
His eyes widen. "Absolutely not- no please don’t..."
You settle back against him, smirking at his eagerness. "Then stop talking."
He smiled wide with his eyes closed. "Okay."
Five seconds later-
"Can I tell you something?"
"No."
"You didn't even let me-"
"No."
He laughed before snuggling back into your hair. “Okay, I’ll just tell you later.”
♡
A few weeks later, Seonghyeon walked into your apartment one Saturday, intending to make some cookies with you. He had sent you a video a while back and you’d finally agreed to make them today.
After dropping the grocery bag on your counter, he walked into the living room and looked at you. You were sitting on the couch, feet tucked under you, and wearing your black hoodie.
Woah wait.
Seonghyeon squinted his eyes a bit and leaned his head forward to get a better look.
That was a black hoodie right? He blinked a few times before looking again. NO! It was his navy hoodie!! His!!
You look up from your phone.
"Why are you staring at me hyeon?"
He pointed at you with his eyes wide. "Is that mine?"
You glance down. You're wearing his navy blue hoodie.
"No."
He stared at you while stepping a little closer now. "That's literally my hoodie."
"It lives here now I guess."
His face broke into a really wide grin. "Even though it’s kinda colorful?"
You shrug. "Maybe."
He walked toward you fully now and you barely have time to put your phone down before he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up. Your eyes went wide for a second, clearly startled, before eventually you wrapped your arms around his neck. His smile grew against your shoulder as he rocked back and forth. None of you said anything for a bit before slowly he let you down. The blue hoodie hung loosely around you, fitting your frame perfectly.
“I love it on you.” He said, twisting the hem of it in his fingers.
You smiled softly as you lifted your hand and caressed the side of his head.
You never became something different than what you were comfortable with, and he didn’t either. You were still black and white and he was still his mostly colorful self. But in between his colors finding their way into your apartment and your monochrome finding its way into his, you stopped looking like opposites. Instead you just looked like colors that complemented each other.
You just looked like you and he looked like him. Like home.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: I decided to write this up really quickly today and release this because it’s my first day back to class tomorrow! Ughhh I’m dreading it so much and I feel like this break wasn’t long enough but whatever I guess. Wish me luck 💔
PLEASE give me Martin angst where he's super dependable and always taking care of everyone, but reader accidentally finds out he hasn't told anyone he's been struggling for months
Doctor’s Orders
Pairing: idol!Martin x fem!reader
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic, Humor
Synopsis: Martin has always been the dependable one. The person everyone calls when they need something, and the person who insists he can handle it all. But after weeks of watching him run himself ragged, Y/N finally drags him to the doctor.
Warning(s): Needles/blood draw, brief mention of sickness, very mild crying (more like tearing up), otherwise pure fluff
Word Count: ~2.4k+
A/N: Hai…so…I did see this request and I wanted to try and find a unique storyline to fulfill it soooo here it is!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
You’d noticed recently that Martin had stopped complaining about anything. Normally, if he was tired, he'd tell you. If he was hungry, you'd know. If something annoyed him, you'd probably hear about it within five minutes. Martin was just loud when he was happy, dramatic when he was inconvenienced, and capable of turning even the smallest problem into a ten-minute story.
You'd started hearing those words so often that they barely registered in your brain anymore.
Until tonight.
Practice had ended nearly an hour ago, but Martin still hadn't left the room. You arrived and found him sitting against the mirrored wall of the practice room, one knee pulled toward his chest while he scrolled through his phone.
"You know everyone else already left, right?"
He looked up. "Hm?"
"Everyone."
"Oh." He glanced toward the door like he genuinely hadn't noticed.
You frowned. "You've been sitting here this whole time?"
"Not the whole time."
"Martin."
"...I was practicing earlier."
You walked over and sat beside him. His phone immediately disappeared into his pocket.
"What were you doing?"
"Nothing."
"That's a lie."
"I was answering messages."
"From?"
He shrugged. "The members."
You waited for a while, staring at him, before he finally sighed.
"James needed help with something. Then Keonho asked if I could bring something for him tonight. Then Seonghyeon wanted to know what time we're meeting tomorrow."
"And?"
"And Juhoon forgot his charger here."
You stared at him. "...So?"
"So I'll bring it."
"You live at our apartment though. Not the dorm."
"I know."
"The others have their own apartment that they can come here from?"
"I know."
"And it's raining."
He looked toward the window. "...I know."
"You're going all the way over there tonight just to bring someone a charger?"
Martin smiled. "It's fine."
You didn't smile back. "You're exhausted though, you should be able to go home."
"I'm not."
"You are."
"I'm really not."
"You look like you haven't slept."
"I slept."
"When?"
"...Recently."
"That's not true."
He laughed quietly. "You're interrogating me."
"Because you're avoiding the question."
He looked down at his hands, and for half a second, the smile disappeared. But then, it came back just as fast.
"I'm okay, really.”
You didn't know why, but that answer bothered you more than usual.
♡
The next week after that night, you started noticing a lot of things. Martin was always the first one awake, and he'd make sure everyone had eaten before coming to practice before he even left your guys’ apartment. He'd also remember who needed what, bring extra water bottles, stay behind to help clean, and go back and forth between your apartment and the others' whenever someone needed something. Sometimes this happened in the rain, after midnight, or when he was clearly too tired to be going anywhere. And all he ever said about it was-
"I'm fine."
And you began to despise those two words put together. Like he was clearly not fine.
♡
One night, you had fallen asleep while waiting for Martin to get home. You woke up and noticed his side of the bed was empty, so you decided to go out and get a bottle of water and wait. As you made your way out of the room, you found him standing in the kitchen at almost one in the morning eating cereal, still wearing his practice clothes.
You leaned against the doorway.
"...Late dinner?"
He looked over. "Technically."
"That's cereal."
"Mhmm."
"You haven't eaten properly, have you?"
He paused. "...I had lunch."
"Today?"
"Yes."
"It's one in the morning."
"Right."
You crossed your arms. "Martin."
He sighed.
"Okay, maybe it slipped my mind."
"You forgot to eat?"
"I've been busy."
"Doing what?"
He opened his mouth…but nothing came out. There wasn't exactly one specific reason, just a lot of little ones. You watched him carefully before deciding to speak.
"...Taking care of everyone?"
His eyes flicked toward yours. "Well…someone has to."
The words were quiet, but powerful. You softened at the thought.
"That doesn't always have to be you."
He looked away. "I know."
But somehow, you didn't think he actually did.
♡
Probably a week later, he got sick. Not seriously or anything, but a stubborn cold that had apparently been hanging around longer than he wanted to tell you about. You'd heard him sniffling for days on end before you began to hear coughing and then finally him pretending he wasn't actually coughing. So eventually, you put your foot down.
"You're going to the doctor."
Martin stared at you from the couch. "...Nah."
"Yes."
"I'm fine though."
"You’re literally fighting for your life in front of me."
"That's dramatic."
sniff.
You pointed at him. "See?"
He frowned.
"People sniff. That’s normal."
"You've been coughing too."
"People cough too…to like…clear their throat."
You squinted at him before closing yours eyes and taking a deep breath. "Hyeon told me you said your throat hurt at practice."
Martin went completely silent. "...People have itchy throats sometimes."
You stared at him in disbelief before abruptly turning around. “...Get your shoes."
He groaned and dropped backward onto the couch. "Can we just wait until tomorrow?"
"No."
"Next week?"
"No."
"Next year?"
"Martin this is serious."
"...Fine fine..."
♡
The waiting room wasn't even that bad in your opinion. Usually there was a bunch of coughing kids, tired mothers, and crying babies, but today it seemed quiet. Martin, however, had convinced himself there was absolutely no worse situation he could’ve been in than sitting in that cushioned waiting room chair. His knee bounced rapidly beneath the chair, and you could tell he was sweating. You glanced down at his knee.
"...You nervous?"
"Nah."
His leg continued bouncing.
"Your leg says otherwise."
"My legs are just growing. You know, the usual aches."
You smiled before putting your hand over his knee. "You're okay."
"I'm fine."
"Uh-huh..." You said, nodding slowly. “Besides, if you were actually growing right now I think you’d be going through the ceiling soon.”
He looked at you for a moment before huffing out an amused laugh at your statement. Then, he quietly looked at you and whispered-
"...Do you think they're gonna take blood?"
You paused. "Maybe?"
His expression immediately changed. "...Oh."
There it was. The fear you already knew was coming soon.
"Are you scared of needles?" You already knew the answer, but felt the need to ask an again.
"No."
"Really?"
"No."
You laughed softly. "The color just drained from your face though."
"That's unrelated."
"Martin."
"It's like…really hot in here."
You looked around the very air-conditioned room around you before slowly turning back to him. "...Right."
He rubbed his palms against his jeans. "Do they like, have to?"
"They might not. But they could."
He groaned and leaned his head against the wall behind him.
"Great."
You squeezed his hand. "Hey. You're not doing it alone."
He looked at you before slowly shutting his eyes. "...Okay."
The sound of his name being called by a nurse suddenly broke through the silence, and his head snapped over before turning back to you in horror. You nodded once before standing up and grabbing his hand to come with you.
♡
The doctor checked him over, asked a few questions, listened to his breathing, and eventually nodded.
"Nothing sounds too concerning. I'd recommend some over-the-counter medicine and plenty of rest. Your body seems pretty tired from being overworked. How long again has this been going on for?."
Martin nodded slowly before his eyes drifted to the doctor. “A few months…maybe?”
Your eyes widened a bit as your head slowly turned to Martin. Had this been really going on for that long??
“With this going on for such a long time, I’d really recommend you get ample rest and rejuvenation through liquids and food over the next few days.” The doctor glanced at his chart. "But before you leave I'd also like to run a quick blood test, if you don’t mind."
Martin went completely still. Yeah he absolutely minded but he couldn’t say anything. This was the part he was hoping would NOT happen. You watched the realization cross his face as the doctor left the room for a moment. He looked down at his hands, already expecting you to scold him.
You turned your head from the door to him. “Martin. You have felt good for months?”
He took a breath before nodding slowly. “I…I just didn't want everyone worrying, you know?"
"Martin..."
"I thought it'd go away."
"But it didn't."
"No." He rubbed his thumb against his palm. "I kept thinking if I could just get through the next schedule, or the next practice, or the next week..." He swallowed. "Then I'd rest."
You didn't interrupt.
"But there was always something else following right after the last thing." His voice cracked slightly. "Someone needed something or forgot something or wanted something. …or we had practice and schedules and I’d have to go back and forth between the apartments."
He gave a tiny, embarrassed laugh.
"So I just...kept going."
Your expression softened. "You should've told someone baby."
"I know."
"You didn't have to take care of everything…and you could've asked me."
His eyes lifted. "...I know."
There was a long silence. Then he whispered-
"I didn't want anyone to see that I couldn't handle it."
You swallowed. “Does anyone know?”
Martin shook his head.
“No?”
“No.”
“Not even the members?”
He shook his head again.
Your heart sank. “Martin…”
“I didn't want to make it their problem.”
That hurt honestly. Because Martin had spent months convincing everyone that he could handle anything so much that he'd somehow convinced himself too. You reached over and gently squeezed his hand.
"You don't have to handle everything anymore."
He looked down. "...Okay."
"Really."
He nodded. "...I'll try."
♡
A few minutes later, the nurse came back into the room and Martin immediately debated launching himself through the wall.
You stood beside him and put your hand on his shoulder.
"Don't look."
"I was NOT going to."
"You always say that though."
"I'm serious this time." He glanced around. "I'm going to look at the ceiling."
"The entire time?"
"It's a lovely ceiling with great textures."
You smiled. "Martin."
"Yeah?"
"Just look at me."
He slowly turned his head and his fingers tightened around yours. The more time that passed, the more you could feel his hand getting clammy. The nurse then suddenly tuned around and walked over to the two of you.
“I’m just going to put this band around your arm, alright? It’s just to help us find your veins and other doohickeys inside your arm easier.” She said, smiling.
He nodded slowly, offering his arm. After it was on, the nurse turned around and began preparing stuff at the counter.
"Talk to me."
"About what?"
"Anything."
He thought for a second.
"...What do you want for lunch?"
You blinked. "Now?"
"Yeah."
"You're getting your blood drawn and you're worried about lunch?"
"I'm trying to survive, alright? Work with me here."
You laughed quietly. "Okay. Chicken."
“Noodles?”
“Maybe.”
"Rice?"
"Yeah."
"Dessert?"
"Obviously."
"What kind?"
"I don't know."
"You have to know now though.”
"Why?"
"Because I'm buying."
You smiled. "You're buying?"
"Yeah."
"You're the one getting the blood test though?"
"I still gotta treat my girl."
"Okay. Ice cream, we’ll share."
"What flavor?"
"Vanilla."
He immediately frowned. "Boring."
"You choose."
"Hmm…cookies and cream!"
"Of course."
He smiled faintly. "Yeah."
The nurse stepped closer now. "Okay. I'm ready when you are."
His smile disappeared. "...Okay."
He turned toward you almost immediately and his breathing became uneven. You gently ran your fingers through his hair.
"Just look at me."
He nodded. "I'm looking."
The nurse began the blood draw and Martin's eyes squeezed shut. You kept talking to hopefully keep his mind of the situation.
"You know what we should do after this?"
"What?"
"We should go home."
"Okay."
"And you're sleeping."
"...Do I have to?"
"Yes."
"Can you stay?"
You smiled softly. "Yeah."
His shoulders relaxed a little. "Okay."
You continued talking about completely random things until the nurse finally put on the bandaid, took off the band, and said-
"All finished."
Martin opened his eyes. “...Already?"
"Yep."
He looked down at his arm. "...That was awful."
"But you did it."
He rubbed his eyes quickly. "Did I seriously cry?"
"Maybe a little, but that’s okay.”
"Don't tell anyone."
"I won't."
"Especially the members."
"I won't."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
He nodded seriously. Then his eyes landed on the little sticker sheet sitting nearby.
"...Can I have a Spider-Man sticker?"
You laughed.
"You're asking for a sticker now?"
"Yes."
You glanced over, and there was in fact a tiny Spider-Man sticker. You looked at the nurse for permission and she nodded before walking out of the room, so you walked over and peeled it off. Then you turned it around and gave it to him. He carefully placed it beside his bandage before tapping it.
"There."
You smiled. "Feel better?"
He looked at the sticker. "...A little."
♡
Lunch afterwards was pretty quiet. Martin had ACTUALLY ate an entire meal instead of pretending cereal counted as dinner, and afterward, you drove him home. He barely spoke during the ride, and by the time you got inside, he looked exhausted.
"Bedroom."
He frowned. "What?"
"Go."
"I'm not tired."
"You nearly fell asleep in the car."
"But that’s the car."
"Bedroom."
He sighed dramatically. "You're very bossy."
"And you're very stubborn." He walked toward the bedroom anyway.
You followed behind him and he flipped around.
"You're staying?"
"Obviously."
He smiled. "...Okay."
Later, after you'd brought in another blanket and a glass of water, you paused in the doorway. Martin was already lying down and hand was resting beside him. The tiny Spider-Man sticker was moved there, but now he was carefully smoothing down one corner with his thumb. You smiled.
"...You're making sure it stays?"
He nodded. "It keeps peeling up."
You walked over and sat beside him. "You know you can just put it somewhere else to keep."
He looked at it. "I like it here."
You smiled. "Then keep it."
He pulled the blanket higher. "Will you stay until I fall asleep?"
You nodded. "Yeah."
He shifted over slightly, making room. You settled beside him, and after a few minutes, his breathing finally began to slow. For once, Martin wasn't checking his phone or answering messages or worrying about anyone else.
He was just resting. And maybe that was the first time in months he'd actually let himself do that.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: Kinda not my best work and not sure how to feel about it but ehhhh I hope you enjoyed it regardless!! THANK YOU FOR READINGGG
pairing. flynn rider ! martin / f ! rapunzel reader
warnings + info. oneshot, fantasy au, tangled retelling, strangers to lovers, not exactly parallel to the movie so don't be confused if some things are different, kissing, violence, imagine messyhaired!tin ok?, features many people you know and love ;)
synopsis. a handsome thief hiding from his crimes picks the wrong tower to climb into, and the girl locked inside it has been waiting her whole life for an excuse to leave.
wc. 18.3k
maddy's note. i marinated on this idea for ages and finally it has come to fruition so i cannot wait for u guys to read it 😇! ik my martin girls are heavily deprived so this ones for u guys hehehe but especially for meri @griinspire and pearl @marsgirltyshi and lili @chocom0ka (and seulbi but she's Gone off blr) because no one does martins gf like they do 😏😏!!!
there is no playlist for this because, well, it has a soundtrack of its own and quite frankly i'm a little lazy to compile songs rn............. #iseethelighttruther
tagging 90% of Core15 bc they yell at me @kaikaikoi @hyuneskkami @hollyoongs @aerinettes
Once upon a time, in a kingdom nestled between green mountains and a sea the color of jade, there was born a princess.
Of course, like any other fairytale, she was not born ordinary. On the night before her birth, a single drop of moonlight was said to have fallen from the sky and rooted itself into the earth, blooming into a flower that glowed gold from root to petal. The palace healers, desperate to save the queen who lay dying in childbed, ground the flower into a tea and poured it past her lips, and by morning the queen lived, and by evening the princess was born with a single lock of hair that shone like sunlight caught in silk.
The kingdom rang bells for three days. The king wept. The people lit lanterns and floated them on the river in thanks to whatever gods had seen fit to spare their queen and gift them a princess who glowed.
But the flower's magic had not vanished when it was boiled into tea. It had simply moved—into the girl. Into her hair, which did not merely shine but healed, which did not merely glow but sang low and golden when the right words were spoken over it, undoing wounds, softening age, drawing sickness out of the body like poison from a wound.
There was a woman in the kingdom—never young, never quite old, a woman the years seemed to slide off of like water off stone—who had known about the flower long before the healers ever found it. She had kept it hidden for a hundred years, using its magic to keep herself exactly as she wished to remain. When it was taken from her and given to a queen and consumed by a birth she had no part of, something in her curdled.
She was called, by then, only Mother.
She came for the princess on a night when the moon was new and the palace slept heavy with relief. She did not take the flower. She took the girl instead, because the girl was the flower now, and she carried her from the palace in the dark and up into the mountains, to a tower with no door, only a single window round as an eye, hidden behind a curtain of waterfall and stone.
She raised the princess as her own. She told her that the world outside was full of people who would tear her apart for the power in her hair, that the tower was the only place she would ever be safe, that Mother's love—sharp-edged and conditional and always, always followed by but you know I only want what's best for you—was the only love the girl would ever need.
The king and queen sent lanterns into the sky every year on their daughter's birthday, thousands of them, gold as the flower that had saved the queen's life, in the small and stubborn hope that somewhere, somehow, their daughter would see them and know she was being waited for.
The girl in the tower saw them. Every year, from her window, she watched the far-off sky fill with floating light and never once knew they were for her.
She only knew that something in her chest ached every time the horizon lit up gold, and she never could explain why.
The king and queen never stopped hoping. Every year, when the lanterns had all burned low and drifted back down to the water, the queen would stand alone at the highest window of the palace a while longer than anyone else, watching the dark where the last of the light had gone, and the king would come find her there, and neither of them would say anything at all, because there was nothing left to say that eighteen years of the same silent vigil hadn't already said a hundred times over. They kept her room exactly as it had been. They never once let themselves call it a memorial, because a memorial was for something that was over, and they had never once let themselves believe it was over.
The kingdom, for its part, grew used to the grief the way kingdoms do—folding it quietly into tradition, into the yearly ritual of light, into a story told to children at bedtime about a princess who might, one day, come home. Most had stopped truly expecting it. The lanterns kept rising anyway. Hope, it turned out, didn't require belief to keep going. It only required someone willing to light the wick one more time.
You had lived eighteen years in that tower, and in that time you had become, out of sheer boredom and stubbornness, extremely accomplished.
You could grind ink and paint mountains that looked like the ones you'd never climbed. You could play the gayageum until your fingers bled and then keep playing anyway. You'd taught yourself to read faster than Mother liked, to argue better than Mother liked, to want more than Mother liked, though you were careful never to let her see the wanting directly. You kept it folded small, tucked behind your ribs, brought out only at night with the shutters closed, when you traced the shapes of mountains you'd painted from imagination and wondered what they smelled like up close.
Kono did not approve of the wanting.
Kono was small, no longer than your forearm, built more like a lizard than the great serpentine dragons painted on temple ceilings, but for the two soft antler-like horns that curled back from his brow and the faint iridescent sheen to his scales that shifted blue to green to gold depending on how the light caught him—the exact shifting, you'd always thought, of oil on water, or of a fish turning in a stream. He had a long tail he liked to wrap possessively around your wrist, small clawed feet that could grip silk without snagging it, and an expression, for a creature with no eyebrows, of near-constant and deeply personal disappointment in you.
He had been left on your windowsill as a hatchling the summer you turned nine, small and starving and furious about it, and had simply never left, and you had never really asked why a mountain temple's guardian creature had abandoned his post to live with a girl in a tower, and he had never told you.
He was, as far as you'd ever heard, meant to bring luck. You mostly found this funny.
"I'm just saying," you told him, that particular evening, standing at the window with your chin in your hands, watching the light change over the tree line, "that if I have to hear one more story about how the outside world is full of ruffians and cutthroats waiting specifically for me, I might actually go looking for the ruffians and cutthroats just to see if they're more interesting than staying here."
Kono made a small, unimpressed noise and flicked his tail against your neck.
"You're right, you're right. Bad plan." You sighed, and the sigh fogged faintly against the cool evening air. "But it's my birthday in three days, Kono. Eighteen years old, and I've never once stood in actual dirt. Do you know how insane that is?"
He blinked his round eyes at you, which you had long since learned to interpret as yes, obviously, I have been here the entire time, why are you telling me this like it's news.
You didn't get to finish making your case, because that was the exact moment something enormous and irritable and coated in mud came flying over the tree line, followed at some distance by two men on horseback who were shouting in a way that suggested this was not a friendly race.
You watched, chin still in your hands, as the fleeing shape—a horse, you realized, a truly furious-looking horse with no rider—thundered off in one direction, and the men gave up the chase and doubled back toward the waterfall instead, toward the tower, toward the one place in this entire kingdom that was not supposed to be findable.
Kono went rigid against your shoulder.
You, if you were being fully honest with yourself, felt something in your chest that was not quite fear. It sat right alongside the fear, close enough to be mistaken for it, but it wasn't fear.
It was closer to finally.
His name, you would learn—though not for several more extremely tense minutes—was Martin Edwards, and he arrived through your window the way a cat arrives through a window: badly, loudly, and with absolutely no acknowledgment that he might be intruding.
He tumbled onto your floor in a graceless heap of limbs, dragging a satchel that clinked with something metal, and had approximately one and a half seconds to register that the tower he'd chosen at complete random to hide in was, in fact, occupied, before you brought the singing bowl down over his head with every ounce of strength eighteen years of restless boredom had built into your arms.
The bowl rang out, low and resonant, an actual musical note hanging in the air over the sound of him crumpling sideways into your dried-flower arrangement.
You stood over him, bowl still raised, breathing hard, and felt, for the first time in your entire life, genuinely and thoroughly alive.
He groaned. He was, you noted with some irritation, extremely tall even lying down, all long limbs folded wrong across your floor, and even unconscious his face had the specific, punchable quality of someone who had never once in his life doubted that he was the most charming person in any room he walked into.
Kono skittered down your arm to the floor and approached the stranger with the deep suspicion of a creature sizing up a rival. He sniffed once at Martin's outstretched hand, apparently found it lacking, and turned his back on it with as much dignity as a small dragon draped in mud-splattered iridescent scales could manage.
You dragged the intruder—with considerable effort, and a truly staggering amount of complaining directed at Kono, who offered zero help—into your wardrobe, and shut the door, and sat down hard on your bed with your heart going like a struck drum.
Ruffians and cutthroats, you thought, a little hysterically. Right on schedule.
He woke up loud, which you supposed made sense, given everything else about him so far.
"—okay, okay, I'm awake, I'm awake, get the—" He kicked the wardrobe door open with a force that sent your good winter coats sliding off their hooks and staggered out into the room with both hands raised, blinking against the lamplight, and then his eyes landed on you, standing across the room with the singing bowl held out in front of you like a shield, and something in his face actually, genuinely, lit up.
"Oh," he hummed. "Hello."
"Don't move," you said.
"I'm not moving." He did not stop moving. His eyes were doing a slow, assessing sweep of the room—the window, the wardrobe, you, the bowl, back to you—that you didn't love the feeling of. "Nice place. Very—cozy. Homey. Round. You don't get a lot of round rooms."
"I said don't move."
"I'm being extremely still." He took a single, deliberate step sideways, testing you, and you swung the bowl an inch closer to his skull, and he froze with both hands up again, and something that might have been the beginning of respect crossed his face. "Okay. Fair. Noted."
Up close, in better light, he was infuriatingly good-looking in a way you resented on principle. Tall—taller than anyone had a right to be in a low-ceilinged tower room. This ruffian was blond in a country where you'd never once seen hair that color (not that you’d really seen any other existing humans).
He had this odd and loose, careless confidence that suggested he'd never had to work particularly hard for anything, including, apparently, avoiding capture, since two very large men had chased him halfway across a mountain and he still looked more amused than afraid.
"Who are you," you snarled, "and how did you find this tower?"
"Martin Edwards." He said it like it should mean something to you. When your expression didn't change, an emotion flickered across his face—annoyance, maybe, or the specific wound of a man whose name usually did land. "You've truly never heard of me."
"I've never heard of anyone. I live in a tower."
"Right. Yes. Fair point, very fair, I did notice the—tower situation." He gestured vaguely at the room, the window, the general concept of your entire life. "Look, I didn't find this place, I was being chased, I saw a hole in a wall of rock, I went through the hole. This was not a planned visit. I have no interest in your—tower. Your life. Any of it. I just need to lay low for a bit and then I will be very happy to climb right back out that window and never think about any of this again."
You considered him. You considered the satchel, which he'd dropped by the wardrobe door, and which had made a very specific metallic clinking sound when he fell.
"What's in the bag?"
His whole body changed—just slightly, just for a second, a flicker of genuine alarm before the easy charm slid back over it like a curtain. "Nothing that concerns you."
"It's in my room."
"It's in my possession."
"You're in my tower."
"Okay, fine, guess that’s—actually a decent point." He exhaled through his nose, glanced at the window, seemed to calculate something, and then said, with the air of a man laying down a very reasonable trump card: "Tell you what. You let me leave, quietly, no fuss, and I forget this entire evening ever happened. Bag included. Everyone wins."
You should have said yes. Later—much later, with the wind in your hair and your heart still going too fast in your chest—you would think about how easy it would have been to say yes, to open the window, to let him climb back out into the night and never know what you'd almost missed.
Instead you looked past him, out your one round window, at the darkening sky, and you thought about lanterns you'd never seen up close and mountains you'd only ever painted from guesswork, and you heard yourself say, "No."
He blinked. "No?"
"You're going to take me somewhere."
"I am not."
"There's a light show. Lanterns. Every year, on the—" you almost said my birthday, and swallowed it, some old instinct telling you not to hand a stranger that particular thread to pull. "There's a light in the sky, every year, from the direction of the kingdom. I want to see it up close. You're going to take me, and then you can have your little… bag back."
"You don't have my bag."
"I know where you left it," you said, which was true, and gestured with your chin at Kono, who had, in the general chaos, quietly and with great personal satisfaction dragged the satchel across the floor and was now sitting on top of it with the smug posture of a creature who understood exactly what leverage was.
Martin looked at the dragon. The dragon looked at Martin. Something passed between them that you didn't fully understand yet but would come, over the following days, to recognize as the opening shot of a genuinely long and deeply petty war.
"That thing is sitting on my satchel," Martin gasped, in the tone of a man who could not quite believe the indignity of his current situation.
"His name is Kono."
"I don't care what his name is, he is sitting on my—"
"He's very protective," you said, not entirely truthfully, since Kono's motives had far more to do with spite than protection, but you weren't about to admit that. "So. Lanterns. Then your bag. Then you go wherever it is men with bags full of clinking things go."
Martin looked at you for a long moment. He truly looked, in a way that made you resist the urge to fold your arms over your chest, and then rubbed both hands down his face and groaned like a man who'd already lost an argument he hadn't realized he was having.
"You," he chuckled in what you assume to be sarcasm, "are going to be a problem."
"Probably," you agreed, and found, to your own surprise, that you were smiling.
"For the record," he added, already turning to inspect the window, testing the give of the shutter with one hand, "I don't actually do this. Escort duty. Tour guide. Whatever this is."
"You don't have much choice."
"I have plenty of choice, lady. I'm choosing to be gracious about a bad situation, there's a difference." He glanced back at you, something assessing in the look, like he was recalculating you from scratch now that the singing bowl had been lowered. "How far is this light show, anyway?"
"I don't actually know."
"You don't—" He closed his eyes briefly, the particular patience of a man doing math he didn't want to do. "You dragged me into a hostage negotiation for a destination you don't know the distance to."
"It's in the direction of the kingdom. I've watched it every year from the window. It can't be that far."
"'Can't be that far' has gotten men killed, you know."
"You'll live," you said, with far more confidence than you actually possessed, and went to go retrieve your good travelling shoes, leaving him standing by the window looking like a man reconsidering every choice that had led him to this particular evening.
You changed, too, while he waited—out of the loose sleeping robes you'd been in when he'd fallen through your window and into the good hanbok you'd been saving, the one Mother had commissioned for a birthday you weren't allowed to leave the tower to celebrate.
Pale jeogori embroidered along the collar with thread the color of new leaves, the chima falling in soft, heavy folds you'd never actually walked any real distance in, sash tied the way you'd practiced a hundred times alone in front of a mirror with no one to see it.
It felt strange, dressing for a world you'd never been allowed into. It felt stranger still, catching your own reflection in the dark window glass, to think that you might actually look like you belonged there.
Were you… scared? No. Surely not. You wanted this. It’s practically your life’s purpose. But what about Mother? She had kept you safe and protected from the evils of that world for all your life and wouldn’t this be taking that protection for granted?
"You're stalling," Martin called, from somewhere near the window.
"I'm preparing."
"You've re-tied that sash three times."
"It has to sit correctly or it'll come loose on the climb down."
"It's a piece of fabric, not a structural pillar—"
"Do you want my help escaping or not?"
That, at least, bought you the silence you needed to finish, smoothing the last fold flat with hands that weren't quite steady, and when you finally turned around he'd gone quiet in a different way, something briefly, helplessly caught in his expression before he covered it with a cough and a very deliberate glance toward the window.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Ready," you said, and meant it more than you expected to.
Getting out of the tower took considerably longer than getting in, mostly because you insisted on doing it via the long braided rope of your own hair—which made Martin's expression do something complicated and slightly ill when you explained the general mechanics of your situation—and partly because you stopped four separate times on the way down to look at things. A bird. The particular texture of the moss on the tower's stone base. Your own hands, dirt-smudged for the first time in your life, which you held up in the fading light like they belonged to someone else.
"You're doing something weird with your face," Martin said, from where he was waiting with visibly diminishing patience at the base of the waterfall.
"What thing."
"The—" he gestured at your entire self, "—wide-eyed newborn puppy thing. It's very slow."
"I've never touched a river before."
"You've touched water before."
"Not river water. It's cold. It's moving. Did you know it does that? Just—moves, constantly, going somewhere—"
"Incredible information. Truly a marvel of the natural world. Can we—"
"Give me one more minute."
You did not give him one more minute. You gave him closer to ten, crouched at the edge of the water with your skirts hiked up and your bare feet in the current, laughing—actually laughing, a real sound you weren't sure you'd made before, not like this, not from somewhere this deep—while Martin stood a respectful distance away with his arms crossed and an expression that was trying very hard to stay annoyed and mostly failing.
"You know," he said, eventually, watching you, "for a girl who apparently thinks the entire world is trying to eat her alive, you're taking this remarkably well."
"I never said the world was trying to eat me."
"You have the exact energy of someone who was told that, yes."
You didn't answer that, because it was uncomfortably accurate, and instead climbed back up onto the bank and reached for the little cloth bag Mother had never let you leave without, purely out of habit—and then remembered you'd left the tower entirely, that Mother was three days out at her own errand, that there was no one to sneak anything past anymore, and the freedom of that thought hit you somewhere just under your ribs hard enough that you had to sit with it a second.
Martin was watching your face do something complicated.
"You okay, Princess?"
You blinked at him. "What did you call me?"
"Princess." He shrugged easily, like he'd been waiting for an excuse. "Means gongju. You know. Lost girl, hidden tower, guarded like she's made of something precious—you have to admit it tracks."
"I'm not a princess."
"I didn't say you were. I said it tracks." He was grinning now, delighted with himself in a way that made you want to throw something at him. "There's an actual missing princess, you know. Whole kingdom's been mourning her for eighteen years. Lanterns every year on her birthday, the whole thing. I’m guessing that’s what you’re trying to see. Funny coincidence, a girl locked in a tower wanting to see the exact same lanterns."
"Coincidences happen."
"Sure they do." He fell into step beside you, hands tucked behind his head, entirely too pleased with the theory he was clearly not going to let go of. "Or, alternatively, I could just call you 'princess.' Would you prefer that? Since you don't know what it means. I mean, I'm sure a sheltered young lady like yourself, freshly escaped from an entire lifetime in a stone tower, wouldn't be familiar with a word like that. It’s English. Very obscure. Very advanced."
"I know what it means, I was born here, same as you."
"Do you though? Prove it."
"I'm not proving anything to you."
"Because you can't."
"Because it's beneath me."
"There it is," he said, snapping his fingers, delighted. "Gongju behavior if I've ever seen it."
"I will push you into the river."
"You're welcome to try, princess."
"You know what's funny," Martin said, a little while later, once you'd both fallen into an easier walking rhythm and the sun had dropped low enough to gild the tops of the trees. "You never actually told me your name."
You hesitated. It wasn't that you didn't have one—Mother had given you one, early, though she'd used it so rarely, always preferring darling or sweet girl or, when she was displeased, no name at all, just a long and pointed silence—it was that saying it out loud to a stranger on your first night outside a tower felt like handing over something you weren't sure yet was safe to hand over.
"I'm not telling you."
"Why not?"
"Because you'll use it against me somehow. You seem like the type."
"I am offended." He didn't sound offended. He sounded thrilled, the way he sounded about most things that gave him new material to work with. "Fine. Keep your mystery. I'll just keep calling you gongju, then, and everyone we meet is going to assume you actually are the missing princess, and it'll be your fault when the whole kingdom starts a rumor."
"Nobody's going to believe that."
"You'd be surprised what people believe about a girl who climbs out of a tower on a rope made of her own hair."
You didn't have a good answer for that, mostly because it was, again, unfairly accurate, and you settled instead for shoving him lightly with your shoulder, which did nothing except make him laugh.
"Say it, then," you said. "Princess. If that's what you're going to call me, I want to actually hear you say the real word, not just the joke version."
He said it—properly this time, no mockery in it, the vowels landing soft and familiar in a way that startled you a little, like hearing a song you hadn't realized you knew the words to.
"There," he said. "Happy?"
"You're still not calling me that."
"I'm absolutely calling you that. It's efficient. It's accurate, probably. And frankly," he added, glancing sideways at you with something almost gentle underneath the usual smugness, "it suits you better than whatever your actual name is going to turn out to be."
"You don't even know my actual name."
"I don't need to. I've got a working theory and I like it. A sheltered young lady," he said, drawing the words out with exaggerated care, "freshly liberated from a tower, apparently unfamiliar with basic Korean vocabulary—really, it all fits."
"I am not unfamiliar with basic—"
"Prove it. What's gongju mean, then, if you know it so well?"
"It means princess, and you know I know that, you're just being insufferable on purpose."
"On purpose and very successfully," he agreed, entirely too pleased with himself, and you gave up trying to win the argument and let yourself, instead, enjoy the specific, unfamiliar pleasure of being teased by someone who clearly wasn't trying to hurt you with it.
You did not push him into the river, mostly because you were fairly sure you'd fall in with him, but you thought about it, hard, the entire rest of the walk, while he hummed something tuneless and infuriating under his breath and Kono rode along in the fold of your sleeve making small disapproving noises every time Martin so much as glanced in your direction.
You noticed, though you weren't going to say it out loud, that he never actually stopped. Princess. Not once, the rest of that day, or the day after, or any of the days that came after that. It stuck the way nicknames only stick when the person using them has decided, somewhere below the joking, that they mean it.
The wanted poster was nailed to a tree at the first crossroads you came to, curling slightly at the corners from weather, and you might have walked right past it if Martin hadn't gone abruptly, suspiciously quiet beside you.
You looked. Then you looked again, closer, and had to physically bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing.
It was, unmistakably, him—same jaw, same insufferable eyebrows, same general air of a man who thought quite highly of himself—except that whoever had drawn it had rendered his mouth as a row of crooked, gap-toothed, wildly uneven teeth, snaggled in every direction like a fence that had lost a fight with a storm.
"That is not accurate," Martin yelled, very fast, snatching the poster down off the tree before you could get a proper look.
"That is—that is artistic license, that is a hack sketch artist with a grudge and no talent, my teeth are—" he actually opened his mouth to demonstrate, tilting his head back, and you had to admit, unwillingly, that his teeth were in fact very straight, surprisingly white, entirely unremarkable in the best possible way. "See? Perfect. Immaculate. I have never once in my life had a complaint about my teeth, I get compliments on my teeth—"
"From who?"
"From—people. Women. Discerning women with excellent taste who appreciate a good—"
"It says here you're a wanted thief," you hummed, reading over his shoulder now that he'd lowered the poster in his outrage, "with a reward of—" you did the math and had to stop and reread it, "—that is a genuinely enormous amount of money."
"It's inflated. That's a—that's a gross exaggeration of my worth, I'm not worth that much, this is clearly a—"
"You're arguing that you're worth less than a wanted poster says?"
"I'm arguing that the number is inaccurate, there's a difference, the number is clearly designed to encourage overzealous bounty hunting, it's a scare tactic—"
"So you agree you're worth stealing."
"That is not—that is not what I said, you're twisting my words, this is exactly the kind of thing I was worried about when you insisted on coming along, you're going to misquote me to guards at some point and get us both—"
"I'm just reading what's written."
He scoffed and kicked a rock. "You're reading it with inflection."
"I'm reading it with my normal voice."
"You said 'genuinely enormous amount of money' like it was a personal insult to me specifically."
"You seem more upset about the teeth than the wanted part."
"Because the wanted part is accurate," he said, with the flat honesty of a man too distracted by dental slander to bother lying. "I am wanted. I did steal something. The teeth, though. The teeth are slander."
"What did you steal?"
He hesitated—and it was the first genuinely unguarded pause you'd seen from him all day—and then folded the poster into quarters and shoved it into his satchel with a little more force than necessary. "Doesn't matter. Ancient history. Water under the bridge."
"You stole it approximately six hours ago."
"Extremely ancient, in relative terms." He set off walking again, faster than before, and you had to jog a few steps to catch up, Kono digging tiny claws into your shoulder to keep his balance.
"You're not going to tell me."
"I am not."
"Is it the crown," you guessed, because you'd caught the edge of gold in the satchel earlier, glinting when Kono had dragged it across the floor, and you watched his shoulders go very slightly, very deliberately stiff.
"No," he said, in a tone that meant yes, and you decided, generously, to let him have it, mostly because you were far more interested in the actual horse that had just come thundering around the bend in the road, nostrils flaring, eyes locked on Martin with an expression of pure, personal, long-simmering rage.
"Oh, no," Martin said.
"Is that—"
"That is Woojoo, yes, that is my horse, that is a long, complicated relationship—"
Woojoo did not stop for pleasantries. He came at Martin like a man settling a debt, and the next several minutes dissolved into a genuinely spectacular chase around a small clearing that involved Martin climbing a tree, Woojoo standing guard at the base of said tree with the patient menace of a creature who had all the time in the world, and you sitting on a fallen log with Kono, watching, thoroughly entertained.
"He's not usually like this," Martin called down, from somewhere in the upper branches.
"He seems very consistent, actually."
"Okay, he's exactly like this, every time, it's—we have history, this horse and I, it's complicated—"
"He's a horse."
"He's vindictive, is what he is, he's been trying to get me arrested for two years, that's not normal horse behavior, that's a personal vendetta—"
Kono made a small, delighted chattering noise beside you, which you were beginning to understand meant something close to finally, someone gets it, and when you glanced down at him he was watching Woojoo with what could only be described as newfound professional respect.
"What exactly did you do to him," you called up, watching Woojoo pace a slow, deliberate circle around the base of the tree, occasionally rearing to paw at the lowest branch just to remind Martin he had options.
"I didn't do anything, he's just been like this since I acquired him."
"You stole him."
"I acquired him. There's a nuance."
"From who?"
"From a royal stable, technically, but in my defense he was clearly unhappy there, high-strung, difficult, the stablemaster hated him—I did him a favor, honestly, and this is the thanks I get, two years of relentless, targeted footwear-based revenge—"
Woojoo, as if personally offended by the retelling, reared up again with a furious whinny and got one hoof solidly against the trunk hard enough to shake the branch Martin was gripping, sending down a small shower of leaves and one extremely undignified yelp.
"He understood that," you gasped and shook your head. "He understood every word of that and he took offense."
"Horses don't understand language."
"This one might."
"This one is a menace, is what he is," Martin said, adjusting his grip with the particular caution of a man who had recently reconsidered his life choices, "a genuine menace who has decided, for reasons known only to himself, that his sole purpose on this earth is making my life difficult—"
You decided, watching the standoff continue with no signs of resolving itself, that this was likely to go on for some time if left entirely to the two of them, and so you climbed down off your log, brushed off your skirts, and walked directly up to Woojoo with far more confidence than you actually felt.
He swung his great head toward you, ears pinned, nostrils flaring, and for a moment you thought you'd badly misjudged the situation—and then, slowly, his ears came up, and he leaned his head down toward you with something almost curious, blowing a warm breath across your palm when you held it out.
"There," you murmured. "See? I'm not the one who stole an apple from your feed bag."
"You heard about the apple thing—" Martin's voice, muffled and betrayed, from somewhere above.
Woojoo made a low, satisfied sort of noise, nudging his nose against your shoulder, and you had the distinct impression, ridiculous as it was, that you had just been recruited onto a very specific and very committed team.
It took another twenty minutes, a great deal of undignified negotiating, and—eventually—you stepping in to physically stand between horse and man with your hands raised in a gesture of peace, before Woojoo agreed, with visible reluctance, to a temporary truce, on the condition—as far as you could interpret from a horse's expression—that he got to walk close enough to occasionally, "accidentally," step on the back of Martin's boot.
"This is humiliating," Martin muttered, as you all set off again, horse and dragon flanking either side of you like a pair of extremely judgmental honor guards.
"I think it's going great," you said, and meant it.
The hanok appeared out of the trees just as the light was going properly gray, low and wide-roofed in the old style, warm lantern-light spilling from its paper windows, smoke curling from a chimney with the smell of something roasting.
"Absolutely not," Martin said, the second he clocked it. "No. We're walking past this. This is a place I have specifically, personally, at great cost, learned to walk past."
"Why?"
"Because it's full of the single worst collection of degenerates in this entire kingdom, and every single one of them would sell me out for a fraction of that reward money without blinking."
"So we're not going in."
"We are absolutely not going in."
You went in.
In your defense, you hadn't fully decided to defy him so much as your feet had simply kept walking while your brain was still weighing the pros and cons, and by the time Martin caught up to grab your sleeve you were already three steps through the door. Into a low, smoke-hazed room packed with the strangest assembly of people you had ever seen in your entire—admittedly very limited—experience of people.
There was a man built like a small mountain, missing most of his teeth, gently carving what appeared to be a delicate wooden hairpin. There was someone in the corner whose face you genuinely could not parse in the low light—too many angles, somehow, like looking at a person through cracked glass—quietly mending a fan.
There were twin brothers arm-wrestling with murderous focus over what turned out, on closer inspection, to be a single dumpling. Someone had a pet weasel draped around their neck like a scarf. Someone else appeared to be knitting something with visibly too many needles. The whole room smelled like woodsmoke and old rice wine and something underneath that you couldn't place and didn't especially want to.
Every single head in the room turned when the door swung shut behind you.
"We're leaving," Martin said, very quietly, into your ear.
"Is that Martin Edwards?" said the mountain-sized man with the hairpin, in a voice that dropped the temperature of the room several degrees.
"No," Martin said.
"That's definitely him," said someone else.
"That is not—okay, fine, hi, yes, hello everyone, lovely establishment, we're just passing through—"
What followed was, by your private accounting, one of the strangest and best evenings of your entire life.
It started with the reward money—someone in the back producing a slightly more accurate wanted poster, teeth and all, and passing it around with escalating commentary, the twins, apparently named Seonghyeon and Juhoon, abandoning their dumpling war entirely to lean over and study Martin's face against the drawing with academic seriousness—and slid, somehow, without your ever quite catching the exact moment it happened, into a full-throated, half-drunk, wildly enthusiastic taunting song, the whole room joining in verse by verse, about every humiliating thing anyone in the establishment had ever heard about Martin Edwards.
The man with the weasel started it, banging a wooden cup against the table for rhythm, and it snowballed from there the way these things always seemed to in a room full of people who'd clearly been waiting years for an excuse.
Oh, the boy who came from nowhere, with his smile and his fine clothes—thinks he's someone, thinks he's special, thinks the whole wide kingdom knows,
sang the man with the weasel, and the twins picked it up without missing a beat, still slightly out of breath from the dumpling war,
but we remember when he begged us for a bowl of rice, a place to sleep—now he struts around in silk scraps calling himself something deep!
"That is one time," Martin said, to no one in particular, to the entire room, to the universe. "That was one specific winter,that is not a fair representative sample of my—"
Nobody was listening. The person with too many needles had abandoned her knitting entirely to conduct the room like an orchestra, and Namjoon's booming baritone came in over the top of everyone else's,
Oh, his teeth are crooked as a fence line, oh, his hair's a rooster's crest, and the last time that he tried to smolder a fisherman's wife laughed so hard she fell in the river and had to be fished out herself —
which was, you gathered, not even remotely true and possibly the single funniest thing anyone had said all evening, judging by the way Martin's whole face went scarlet and the room dissolved into fresh, delighted chaos.
"That last one isn't even true—" Martin tried, over the singing, and got roundly ignored, and you watched, absolutely delighted, from your seat on an overturned barrel, as an entire room of strangers dismantled him verse by gleeful verse, and did not, notably, join in—not because you weren't tempted, but because you found it far funnier to simply watch his face while it happened, the specific, put-upon suffering of a man who could not decide whether to laugh or storm out and kept landing, over and over, on some helpless combination of both.
There was something underneath the teasing, too, that you only half caught—a warmth in it, the particular rough affection of people who'd known someone a long time and had earned the right to be cruel to him in a way that was really just another word for fond.
Namjoon clapped Martin on the shoulder hard enough to stagger him mid-verse and called him boy in a voice gone suddenly soft under all the noise.
You found yourself wondering, not for the first time that night, exactly how long ago it had been that a much younger Martin Edwards had first shown up in a place like this with nowhere else to go, and exactly what had happened to him before that, that a room full of thieves and degenerates had ended up feeling, to him, like the closest thing to family he had.
You filed the thought away to ask about later. You had a feeling it wasn't a question he'd answer easily, or sober, or with an audience.
"You're not even going to defend me," he said to you, mid-chorus, over the noise.
"I'm having a wonderful time."
"That is betrayal, that's what that is—"
"They're not even wrong about the teeth thing."
"They are entirely wrong about the teeth thing, my teeth are fine—"
Somewhere around the fourth verse, the man with the hairpin—whose name, you'd gathered, was something like Namjoon, though it was hard to be sure over the singing—leaned across the table toward you with the particular intensity of someone who had decided you were the most interesting thing in the room.
"You," he pointed. "You have good energy. You've never danced on a table before, have you?"
"I've never been in a room before," you said, honestly, which seemed to delight him even further.
"Well," he said, standing, extending a huge, hairpin-carving hand toward you with genuine ceremony, "there's a first time."
You should have said no. You thought, distantly, of Mother's voice, of every warning about the danger and filth of the outside world, and then you thought about how good it had felt, hours ago, to have your bare feet in a river for the first time in your life, and you took the enormous man's hand and let him haul you, laughing, up onto the low wooden table.
It turned out you were, against every expectation, a genuinely excellent dancer—eighteen years of solitary practice in a round tower room had to be good for something—and the room roared its approval as you spun, skirts of your hanbok flaring out around your ankles, hair flowing, laughing so hard your ribs ached.
Martin stood below the table with an expression that had stopped being annoyed several minutes ago and had settled into something else entirely, something he was clearly trying very hard not to let show on his face and failing at almost completely.
The twins abandoned all pretense of arm-wrestling entirely to bang out a rhythm on the tabletop with the flats of their hands, and the man with the weasel produced, from some hidden pocket, a small reed flute he turned out to play with startling skill, weaving a quick, bright melody underneath the room's continued heckling of Martin, who had by now given up defending his teeth entirely and switched to a full, aggrieved commentary on the general injustice of his evening.
"This is not what I agreed to when I climbed through that window," he called up at you, though he was smiling despite himself, that same helpless, undone expression creeping further across his face with every spin you took. "I signed up for hiding. Quietly. In a tower. Not—this. Not a full musical indictment of my character followed by you personally providing the evening's entertainment."
"You're welcome to join me," you called back, breathless, delighted, and watched with enormous satisfaction as his face went briefly, thoroughly panicked.
"Absolutely not."
"Coward."
"Strategist. There's a meaningful difference between the two—"
Namjoon, still clapping along from below, tipped his head back and roared with laughter loud enough to rattle the paper windows, and even Kono, perched safely on a high shelf out of the way of the chaos, seemed to have relaxed enough to bob his small head faintly along with the flute's rhythm, which you filed away as further evidence, alongside the nose-attack yet to come, that his feelings about Martin were considerably more complicated than his usual sniffing disdain let on.
It was, of course, at that exact moment—you spinning, laughing, glowing in the lanternlight, framed perfectly in the hanok's single paper window—that the door burst open.
Mother stood in the frame, still dressed for travel, face utterly, terribly still, and every single sound in the room died at once.
You would replay the next thirty seconds for years afterward and never fully be able to piece together the order they happened in.
Mother's eyes found yours across the room and something in them cracked open—not relief, you understood, even in the moment, even through the roaring in your ears. Not relief. Fury, dressed up as fear, the way it always was.
"You," Mother said, and her voice, even pitched low, even across a room gone suddenly silent, carried the way it always had, carved out of something colder than the room's actual temperature. She didn't shout. She never shouted; shouting would have meant losing something, and Mother did not lose things, she simply took them back. "Get down from there. Now."
You didn't move. You were aware, distantly, of how strange it was—that a woman who had raised you for eighteen years, whose voice had shaped nearly every rule you'd ever lived by, could stand in a doorway and still make your whole body want to obey before your mind had caught up to deciding whether it should.
"I was just—"
"I don't care what you were just. Look at you. Look at what he's done to you already." Mother's eyes flicked, briefly, murderously, to Martin, standing frozen below the table. "This is exactly what I warned you about. Exactly. One night outside that tower and already you're—" she gestured, sharp and contemptuous, at the whole scene, the hanok, the strangers, your loosened hair, "— this."
"This is the most fun I've had in my entire life," you said, and heard your own voice shake only slightly.
Something in Mother's face did something complicated—not softened, not exactly, but shifted, the fury underneath it briefly, dangerously exposed. "That tower kept you safe."
"That tower kept me contained."
"There she is," said someone—one of the guards behind Mother, you realized, a whole detail of them, come looking for the man on the wanted poster and finding, instead, considerably more than they'd bargained for.
The room dissolved into chaos.
Later, you would understand that half the hanok's patrons had their own reasons to want no part of a run-in with royal guards, and so what happened next was less an act of loyalty to you or Martin specifically and more a matter of shared, practical self-interest—but in the moment it felt like nothing short of a miracle.
The mountain of a man with the hairpin suddenly hauling a table sideways to block the door, the twins scattering rice wine across the floor to send the first guard through it skidding, the person with too many needles somehow managing to tangle an entire coil of yarn around someone's ankles.
"Move, move—" Martin had you by the wrist, hauling you off the table and through a low doorway at the back of the hanok you hadn't even noticed, past a stack of firewood that Namjoon shoved aside with one huge hand to reveal a narrow black gap in the wall, barely wide enough for the two of you, sloping down into the dark.
"In, go, go—" and then you were falling, more than climbing, into a tunnel that smelled of packed earth and old stone, Martin's hand fused to your wrist. Kono was a frantic weight against your collarbone, the sound of shouting and splintering wood fading fast above you as the two of you half-ran, half-stumbled through absolute blackness.
The tunnel was narrower than it had looked from the mouth of it—low enough in places that Martin had to duck, cursing under his breath every time his shoulder caught stone, and twice the passage forked without warning, no light to guide the choice, nothing but Martin's hand tightening around yours and a muttered "left, I think, left—" that you had no way of verifying and every reason to simply trust.
Somewhere behind you, muffled through packed earth, you heard the unmistakable scrape of the firewood being shoved aside a second time, and a voice—not Mother's, one of the guards, sharp and close in a way that made your stomach drop—calling that they'd found the passage.
"Faster," Martin breathed, and you didn't need telling twice, your bare palm scraping stone as you half-felt your way forward, heart slamming so hard you could feel it in your throat. The darkness pressed close enough on every side that for one disorienting stretch you lost all sense of which way was even forward anymore, trusting nothing but the grip of his hand and the sound of his breathing just ahead of you.
A light bobbed somewhere behind—torchlight, catching the tunnel wall in a brief orange smear before you rounded another bend and lost it again—and you thought, with a clarity that cut cleanly through the panic, they're going to catch us, and then, right on its heels, absurdly, I don't even care, this is the most alive I have ever felt in my entire life.
You should have been terrified.
Some distant, sensible part of you understood that you were, technically, terrified—Mother's face, the guards, the very real danger of the last thirty seconds—and yet underneath the fear was something so bright and enormous it eclipsed nearly everything else, something that had been building all day, all evening, every single moment since your feet first touched river water, and it broke open now in the pitch dark of that tunnel as something you could only describe as pure, uncut joy.
You were laughing. You realized it somewhere in the second minute of running, blind, hand in hand with a wanted thief, chased by your own mother's guards, and you were laughing so hard you could barely breathe, and Martin—somewhere ahead of you in the dark, breathless himself—started laughing too, and the two of you burst out of the far end of the tunnel into open moonlit air still half-doubled over, gasping, giddy, alive in a way you didn't have words for yet.
You collapsed against a fallen log at the tunnel's mouth, chest heaving, hair a wild mess around your shoulders, and looked up at the stars—more of them than you'd ever seen from your tower window, spilled out edge to edge across the whole enormous sky—and thought, with a clarity that startled you: this. This is what I wanted.
"You," Martin said, still catching his breath beside you, staring at you like he was seeing something for the first time, "are a genuinely terrifying person."
"I danced on a table."
"You incited a riot."
"I think that was mostly you."
"No, that was—okay, that was a little me, but you—" he gestured at you, helplessly, at your wrecked hair and your flushed face and the grin you couldn't have wiped off if you tried, "—you're supposed to be the sheltered one. The tower girl. And instead you're out here dancing on tables and outrunning royal guards on your first day of freedom like you were made for it."
"Maybe I was."
Something shifted in his face when you said that—quick, unguarded, gone almost before you could catch it—and for a second neither of you said anything at all, just sat there in the moonlight with your shoulders nearly touching, breathing hard, the tunnel's dark mouth still gaping open behind you.
"Princess," he said, quieter now, no teasing in it at all.
"That's not my name."
"I know." He was still looking at you. "Doesn't mean it's not true."
You let the silence sit for a moment, the two of you still catching your breath, the tunnel's dark mouth gaping open behind you like something that had swallowed the version of yourself who'd walked into that hanok an hour ago and spat out someone slightly different.
"Can I ask you something," you said, eventually.
"You're going to anyway."
"That man. Namjoon. He called you boy like he'd known you a long time."
Something in Martin's face shuttered, just slightly, the easy grin dimming a few degrees without fully disappearing. "Long time's a strong way to put it."
"How long?"
He was quiet long enough that you thought he wasn't going to answer at all, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve with more focus than the thread deserved.
"I grew up in an orphanage," he said finally, not looking at you. "Not a nice one. The kind that stops feeding you the second you're old enough to feed yourself, more or less. I left when I was about twelve, lived rough for a while, and that place—that hanok, all those people you just watched sing an entire ballad about my teeth—that was the first place that ever fed me without asking anything back the first time I walked in half-starved and half my current size. So. Long time. Longer than I usually admit to strangers who hit me with singing bowls."
"I'm not a stranger anymore."
"No," he agreed, glancing at you sideways, something almost surprised in it, like he was only just now noticing that fact himself. "I suppose you're not."
"Is that why you steal things? Because nobody ever gave you anything, so you decided to just take it instead?"
"That's very poetic. Did you rehearse that."
"I'm asking a real question."
He exhaled, long, and looked back up at the stars instead of at you. "Something like that, probably. I used to tell myself it was about the money. One good score, enough to disappear somewhere nobody's ever heard the name Martin Edwards, buy myself an island, live like a king who answers to nobody."
He shrugged, and the shrug didn't quite land the way he probably wanted it to. "Lately I've started to suspect it was never really about the money at all. Might've just been about proving I could have something. Anything. That nobody could take away from me the way everything got taken when I was a kid."
You didn't say anything right away. You thought about eighteen years in a round tower, about a woman who called your safety love and meant, underneath it, control, about how you'd never once had anything that was fully, unquestionably yours either—not your name, not your time, not even, until tonight, your own two feet standing wherever they wanted to stand.
"I think," you said slowly, "we might have more in common than you'd expect from a lost girl and a thief."
"You admit it, then. Princess."
"I admit nothing. I'm making an observation about orphaned longing, don't twist it into something else."
He laughed at that—a real laugh, surprised out of him—and some of the tightness went out of his shoulders. "Orphaned longing. You really did rehearse that."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did, you've been sitting on that phrase since the tunnel."
"I have never sat on a phrase in my life," you said, with as much dignity as you could manage, and he laughed again, and the two of you sat there a while longer in the moonlight, not saying much else, letting the quiet settle into something that felt less like the awkward silence of strangers and more like the comfortable kind that came, usually, from people who'd known each other a great deal longer than one very strange day.
The next two days passed the way you imagined a fever might—bright and disorienting and slightly unreal, every hour crowded with more new things than you'd experienced in the previous eighteen years combined.
You learned that Martin snored, faintly, when he slept sitting up against a tree, and that Woojoo had apparently made it his personal mission to step on his boots at every possible opportunity for the rest of what you assumed would be their entire acquaintance.
You learned that Kono had strong opinions about which berries were safe to eat and communicated them via a truly impressive range of disapproving noises. You learned the names of three separate mountain ranges, none of which matched the ones you'd painted from imagination, and found—to your surprise—that you liked the real ones better.
You found a stream on the first afternoon, cold and clear and shallow enough to wade into without fear, and spent nearly an hour there simply standing in it, letting the current pull at the hem of your hanbok, while Martin sat on the bank pretending not to watch you and failing at it almost entirely.
When you splashed him—deliberately, gleefully, without an ounce of remorse—he retaliated with such wounded overcommitment that the two of you ended up soaked through within minutes, both of you laughing too hard to properly aim, Kono shrieking indignantly from a dry rock where he'd wisely relocated at the first sign of hostilities, and Woojoo watching the entire spectacle from the treeline with what you could only describe as profound equine disappointment in both of you.
You learned, too, in quieter moments, the shape of things Martin didn't say out loud.
The way he went very still and unusually gentle whenever you flinched at a loud noise, some old tower-bred instinct you hadn't fully shaken; the way he always, without seeming to think about it, put himself slightly between you and the road whenever another traveler passed.
The way he never once, not even once, asked why a girl who'd apparently never left a tower before knew so much about anatomy or herbs or the exact temperature at which honey turned to poison in the wrong hands, information you'd absorbed purely from Mother's paranoid insistence on preparing you for dangers that had never once, until this week, actually arrived.
You also learned, gradually, and against your own better judgment, that you liked Martin Edwards considerably more than you'd planned to.
He tried the smolder on the second evening, apropos of nothing, while you were both crouched by a small campfire waiting for a rabbit he'd insisted, with wild overconfidence, that he knew how to properly cook.
You caught him doing it out of the corner of your eye first—a slow, deliberate turn of his head toward you, chin dropping slightly, eyes going half-lidded and soft in a way that was clearly meant to be devastating, one eyebrow lifting with the practiced precision of a man who had, you suspected, spent real time perfecting this exact expression in the reflection of still water.
You stared at him.
He held the look.
You kept staring.
He held it a little longer, jaw set, the corner of his mouth doing something you assumed was supposed to read as rakish,and you watched, fascinated, as the muscles around his eye began, very slightly, to twitch with the effort of maintaining it.
"What are you doing," you said finally.
The smolder collapsed instantly, entirely, like a tent losing its center pole. "Nothing."
"You were doing something with your face."
"I was not doing anything with my face, that's just my face, that's how my face looks—"
"Your face looked like you were having some kind of episode."
"That," Martin said, with wounded dignity, turning very deliberately back to the fire, "is called charisma, and it has worked on every single—you know what, never mind. Forget it. Rabbit's probably done."
"Try it again."
He looked at you, suspicious. "Why."
"I want to see if it's worse the second time or if that was just a fluke."
"It is not going to be worse, it is going to be exactly as devastating as the first time, I simply chose not to fully commit to it because I was distracted by the rabbit—"
"Prove it."
He set his jaw, visibly gathering himself, and tried again—chin dropping, eyes half-lidding, that same eyebrow rising with what was clearly meant to be effortless, smoldering confidence—and made it a full three seconds before a piece of ash popped from the fire close enough to his knee that he flinched, hard, breaking the whole expression apart into a startled yelp that had absolutely nothing rakish about it whatsoever.
You laughed so hard you had to set down the stick you'd been roasting your portion of rabbit on, doubling over, and Martin sat there looking deeply, personally betrayed by an ember.
"That doesn't count," he said, with the flat, aggrieved certainty of a man who knew perfectly well that it counted completely. "That was an unrelated incident. The face itself was flawless right up until the interruption."
"I've genuinely never seen anything less flawless in my life."
"You've been alive for four days outside a tower, your knowledge is extremely limited—"
"I've seen Woojoo make a more convincing case for himself."
"Now you're just being cruel."
"I'm being honest," you said, wiping at your eyes, and he huffed, and threw a small twig at you that you batted easily out of the air, and the two of you settled back into an easy quiet, the fire popping softly between you, Woojoo a dark, watchful shape at the edge of the clearing, apparently satisfied enough with the evening's proceedings to have stopped glaring, for once.
The rabbit was not, in fact, done, nor would it ever really achieve a state you could confidently call cooked, and you ate it anyway, sitting close enough to the fire that your shoulders kept brushing, and somewhere in the space of that meal—burnt, underdone, genuinely one of the worst things you'd ever eaten and yet somehow, impossibly, one of your favorite meals of your entire life—you caught yourself watching the firelight move across his face and thinking, with a lurch you weren't at all prepared for, oh. Oh, no.
Kono, curled in your lap, looked up at you with an expression you were beginning to read with alarming fluency, and it said, quite clearly: I saw that. We are going to discuss this later.
"Shut up," you told him, out loud, and Martin glanced over.
"I didn't say anything."
"Not you." You nodded down at Kono, who flicked his tail smugly. "Him."
"That thing has never liked me."
"He doesn't like anyone."
"He likes you."
"I raised him from an egg, that's different."
"Sure." Martin was smiling now, small and real, none of the practiced charm from earlier, just something quieter underneath it. "He's very protective. It's actually a little sweet. In a—weirdly feral, judgmental sort of way."
"Don't call my dragon feral."
"I would never," he said, entirely unconvincingly, and you laughed, and Kono made a noise of deep personal offense, and somewhere above you the first stars were coming out over a sky that would, tomorrow night, on the night of your birthday, fill entirely with gold.
The village you passed through the next morning was small and half-asleep, a scatter of tile-roofed houses along a single dusty road, a well at the center where two old women stood gossiping over their buckets, a market just beginning to set up its stalls in the cool early light—and you stood at the edge of it for a long moment, just looking, before Martin had to physically steer you forward by the shoulder.
"You're doing the thing again."
"I've never seen a market before."
"You've never seen anything before, that's becoming a running theme of this trip." But he said it gently, none of his usual bite in it, and let you drift from stall to stall at your own pace—a woman selling dried persimmons strung on twine, a man with a cart of polished wooden combs, a girl not much younger than you hawking little clay bells that chimed high and sweet when you touched them.
You bought nothing, because you had no money, a fact that seemed to strike Martin as personally intolerable the moment he noticed you eyeing a small painted fan for the third time.
"Here," he said, and before you could stop him he'd produced a string of coins from somewhere inside his jacket—you didn't ask where, and strongly suspected you didn't want to know—and pressed them into the fan-seller's hand with the easy, practiced charm of a man who did this sort of thing often, emerging a moment later to hand you the fan with a small, exaggerated bow. "For the gongju."
"You don't have to do that."
"I know I don't have to. I'm choosing to. There's a difference, I keep telling you this."
You turned the fan over in your hands—painted with a scene of cranes over a lake, delicate, nothing like the practical, sturdy things Mother had ever allowed you—and felt something in your chest go warm and a little overwhelmed, the specific ache of being given something small and unnecessary and entirely, purely kind.
"Thank you," you said, and meant it more than the words could really carry.
"Don't get used to it," Martin said, though his ears had gone faintly pink again, the way they did whenever you caught him being sincere. "I have a reputation to maintain. Ruthless. Self-interested. Very hard to impress."
"You just bought a stranger a fan."
"I bought you a fan, that's different, you're not—" he seemed to catch himself, some thought crossing his face he clearly hadn't meant to say out loud, and cleared his throat instead. "Anyway. We should keep moving. Overlook's still a few hours off, and I'd like to actually get you there with enough daylight to see the view properly."
You let him change the subject, mostly because you weren't sure you were ready either to examine what he'd almost said, but you tucked the fan carefully into your sleeve, next to Kono, who eyed it with mild suspicion before apparently deciding it posed no threat to his position and settling back down.
The two of you left the village with Woojoo laden down, somewhat improbably, with a small sack of persimmons Martin had also bought—"for the horse," he'd said, unconvincingly, though you both knew perfectly well who was going to end up eating most of them—and walked the rest of the morning in an easy, comfortable quiet, broken only occasionally by Martin pointing out landmarks, or you asking questions about the world that he answered, more and more, without any of the teasing he'd led with the day before.
"Can I ask you something," you said, somewhere around midday, watching the road unspool ahead of you toward hills that were, slowly, beginning to look less like mountains and more like the gentler rise of land near a coast.
"You keep asking me that like I have a choice."
"Why haven't you left? You could've, a dozen times by now. You've got your satchel, you've got a truce with Woojoo, you could've slipped off in the night and I'd never have caught you."
He was quiet for a moment, watching the road rather than you. "I've thought about it."
"And?"
"And I keep not doing it," he said, simply, like the answer surprised him as much as it seemed to surprise you. "Which is new. Historically I'm very good at leaving. It's sort of my whole thing. Get in, get what I need, get out before anyone gets attached, especially me." He glanced sideways at you, something wry and a little helpless in it. "You're making that considerably more difficult than usual, gongju."
You didn't have a response for that—not one you trusted yourself to say out loud, anyway—so you reached over instead and took his hand, the way you had at the tunnel's mouth, easy and instinctive, and he let you, lacing his fingers through yours without missing a step, and the two of you walked the rest of the afternoon that way, hands linked, saying nothing else about it at all.
You reached the overlook above the harbor just as the sun was beginning its long slide toward the water, the whole kingdom spread out below you in a way you'd only ever seen painted, and painted badly, from your own imagination—the palace roofs catching the last light, the sea beyond the harbor gone molten copper, boats coming in for evening with their sails full and orange.
"There it is," Martin said, quieter than you'd heard him yet, standing close beside you at the edge of the outlook. "Home of your mysterious lantern people."
You didn't answer right away. You were looking at the palace—the actual palace, not the vague shape you'd always imagined from your tower window, but real, close enough now to make out individual roof tiles, individual windows catching fire in the sunset—and something in your chest was doing something you didn't entirely have language for. A pull. An ache, low and old, like a bruise you hadn't known was there until someone pressed it.
"You okay?" Martin asked.
"I don't know," you said, honestly. "It feels like—" you struggled for it, and gave up trying to find the exact shape of the feeling, settling instead for the closest true thing you had. "It feels like coming home to a place I've never been."
He was quiet for a moment, watching you rather than the view.
"In all honesty," he said, "I think you're going to like it there. Whatever it turns out to be, wherever it turns out you're from. I think the whole world's better with you loose in it, gongju. Bowl and all."
You looked at him with the last of the sunset gold across his face, that ridiculous, sincere, unguarded expression he clearly hadn't meant to let you see—and you thought about tunnels and rivers and burnt rabbit and a hanok full of strangers singing about his teeth, and you thought, with the same clarity you'd had at the mouth of that tunnel two nights ago: this. I want this. Whatever this is turning into, I want it.
"Come on," you said instead, because you weren't brave enough yet to say the other thing, and reached for his hand, lacing your fingers through his like it was the easiest, most obvious motion in the world. "There's a boat down there with our name on it. I have a light show to see."
Below you, the first lanterns of the evening were already beginning to lift off the water, small and gold and multiplying, rising slow and steady into a sky gone the deep, glowing blue of early dark—and somewhere out past the harbor, thousands more were waiting to join them, waiting, though you didn't know it yet, for you.
Martin's hand tightened around yours.
"After you, princess," he said, and the two of you started down the hill together, toward the water, toward the light.
The boat Martin found—borrowed, he insisted, with a straight face that fooled absolutely no one, from a dock crowded with a dozen identical little wooden craft, all of them clearly rented out for exactly this evening, exactly this purpose—was small and low and smelled faintly of fish, and rocked alarmingly when you first climbed in, enough that you grabbed for his arm and he grabbed for the side of the boat and Kono, riding in your collar, made a noise of profound and specific betrayal at being jostled.
"Careful," Martin said, steadying you with a hand at your waist that lingered maybe half a second longer than strictly necessary, and you were fairly sure, from the way his ears had gone slightly pink, that he'd noticed it too.
Woojoo, denied entry to the boat on account of being an entire horse, watched the proceedings from the dock with an expression of deep personal injury, and had to be bribed with the promise of an extra ration of feed before he'd agree to wait, tail swishing, ears pinned, radiating the specific fury of a creature left behind on the one night that mattered.
"He'll forgive you eventually," you said, as Martin pushed off from the dock with a long oar, the little boat gliding out onto water gone glassy and still with the coming dark.
"He has never forgiven me for anything in his entire life. I stole an apple from his feed bag once, two years ago, and I am fairly sure he still brings it up in whatever passes for a horse's internal monologue."
"Poetic justice."
"You're supposed to be on my side."
"I'm on Kono's side. And apparently Woojoo's. You seem to have accumulated a great many enemies for one man."
"They're not enemies," Martin said, settling the oar and letting the boat drift, "they're—creatures with very high standards who happen to have chosen me as their personal project. It's a compliment, really, if you think about it correctly."
"I don't think that's what a compliment is."
"You'll come around."
The kingdom had gone properly dark behind you now, the palace a black shape against a sky just beginning to prickle with stars, and the harbor water held every scattered lantern-light in perfect, trembling reflection, so that it felt, floating there, like you were suspended between two skies—one above, one below, and you in the exact still center of both.
"It's almost time," you said, quiet, watching the palace. Something in your chest had gone tight and expectant, the same old ache from the overlook, except closer now, close enough that you thought you might be able to name it if you sat with it a little longer.
Martin didn't say anything. He'd gone still too, watching you rather than the palace, in a way you were becoming increasingly, helplessly aware of.
And then the first note sounded—a low horn, from somewhere within the palace walls, carrying clean and mournful across the water—and the sky above the towers began, all at once, to fill with gold.
all those days, watching from the windows
You had watched this exact sight, every year of your life, from a single round window a mile up a mountainside, small and distant and never once close enough to feel the heat of the paper or hear the soft rush of a thousand wicks catching flame at once. You had painted it, badly, from memory, over and over, never quite able to get the specific quality of the light right, the way it wasn't quite gold and wasn't quite orange but some living color in between, restless, warm, endlessly multiplying.
Nothing you had ever painted came close.
now i'm here, blinking in the starlight
now i'm here, suddenly i see
standing here
The lanterns rose in waves, not all at once but in long, cascading pulses—a hundred, then another hundred, then more than you could count, drifting up from courtyards and rooftops and the decks of boats all across the harbor, joining together into a slow, vast river of light climbing the dark sky. The water around your little boat filled with their reflections until it was impossible to say, looking down, where the true lanterns ended and the false ones began—gold above you, gold below you, and you sitting in the very middle of it with your breath caught somewhere behind your ribs.
"Oh," you said, which was not remotely adequate to the size of what you were feeling, but was all you had.
"Yeah," Martin said, softly, and when you looked over at him he wasn't watching the lanterns at all. He was watching you, your face lit gold and trembling with reflected light, your eyes wide and wet in a way you hadn't quite noticed until you felt the first tear slip free and had to laugh, embarrassed, wiping at it with the back of your wrist.
"I've waited my whole life for this."
"I know."
"I didn't even know what I was waiting for. I just knew that every year, this light showed up in the sky, and something in me hurt, every time, and I never understood why, and now I'm sitting here and I still don't fully understand why except that it feels like—" you struggled for it again, the same struggle as the overlook, except this time you didn't let yourself give up on finding the words.
and the world has somehow shifted.
"It feels like they were waiting for someone. And some enormous, stupid, hopeful part of me has always believed, without any evidence at all, that the someone was me."
Martin was quiet for a long moment, and when you glanced at him his expression had gone soft and unguarded in a way you'd only caught glimpses of before—at the campfire, at the mouth of the tunnel, never allowed to sit still on his face long enough for you to really look at it.
"For what it's worth," he said, "I think it probably was."
all at once, everything looks different... now that i see you.
Reaching into his satchel, he drew out two lanterns—small, folded flat, clearly purchased at some point during the walk down from the overlook, though you hadn't noticed him buying them, too absorbed in the view—and passed one across to you, along with a little punk of glowing incense to light the wick.
"I got us our own," he said, almost shy about it, which did not suit him at all and which you found, helplessly, endearing anyway. "Figured you shouldn't have to just watch other people's."
Your hands weren't quite steady as you unfolded the paper frame and touched the flame to the wick, the lantern blooming gold between your palms, warm and alive, straining gently upward the way they all did, wanting badly to join the great river of light rising above you.
"Make a wish," Martin said. "Isn't that the tradition? Birthday girl gets a wish."
You looked at him, sharp. "I never told you it was my birthday."
He had the grace, at least, to look faintly caught out. "You didn't have to. Lost princess, mysterious lantern obsession, refuses to give her real name, gets misty over a light show that happens on one specific night of the year—I put it together somewhere around the singing-bowl incident, honestly."
"You've known this whole time."
"I've suspected this whole time. There's a difference. I was being polite about it."
"You've been calling me gongju for two days as a joke."
"I've been calling you gongju for two days because I was fairly confident, and also because it made you make that specific face you're making right now, which I happen to enjoy a great deal." He nodded down at the lantern cupped in your hands, steering neatly away from the moment before you could examine it too closely. "Make your wish, princess. Before it burns your fingers."
You held the lantern a moment longer, warm light spilling up between your hands onto your face, and thought—not about the kingdom below, not even about the parents you didn't yet know you had, waiting somewhere in that dark palace with a hope they'd never once let themselves fully abandon. But about the man sitting across from you in a stolen boat, teeth genuinely, infuriatingly perfect, watching you like you were the only light on the entire water worth looking at.
You didn't say the wish out loud. But you let it go anyway, watched it rise and catch the current of wind that carried it up to join the thousands of others, and when you looked back down, Martin was still watching you, close enough now that you could count, if you'd wanted to, every one of his eyelashes.
"Your turn," you said, a little breathless.
He lit his own lantern, let it rise, and didn't look away from you while he did it—no smolder this time, none of the careful, practiced charm from the campfire that had made you laugh at him. Just him, looking at you, plain and raw and slightly disbelieving of his own luck Like a man who'd broken into a random tower to hide from two very angry brothers and found, instead of an empty room, the entire rest of his life.
"I'm not going to tell you what I wished for," he said, "but I will say it involves considerably less running from armed men than my last several wishes."
"That's a low bar."
"I'm a man of variety."
You laughed—you couldn't help it, the sound coming out watery and warm—and somewhere in the laugh, without either of you quite deciding to, the space between you closed, his hand finding yours again in the bottom of the boat, and you found yourself leaning in, slow, the way the whole evening had been slow and inevitable since the moment he tumbled through your window, and he leaned in too, and for one full suspended second, gold light drifting down all around you like something out of a legend, you thought—this. This is the thing I've been aching for every single year I watched it from too far away.
Kono chose that exact moment to launch himself, with great personal indignation, off your shoulder and directly onto the bridge of Martin's nose.
"Ow—" Martin reeled back, more startled than hurt, batting uselessly at the small dragon now clinging to his face with all four clawed feet and radiating profound betrayal. "Your dragon just—he attacked me, did you see that, he full-on—"
"He's protective," you said, laughing so hard you had to hold the sides of the boat to keep from tipping, tears mixing with the ones already on your face, watching Kono glare down at Martin from the very tip of his nose like a small, furious guardian spirit who had absolutely no intention of allowing anything interesting to happen without express supervision.
"He is feral, is what he is—"
"He likes you," you said, wiping your eyes, still laughing. "This is how he shows it. Trust me. If he actually hated you, you'd know."
"This does not feel like liking, this feels like an assassination attempt—"
Kono flicked his tail, unbothered, and settled himself with great satisfaction directly between the two of you on the boat's narrow bench, clearly intending to remain there for the foreseeable future, a small, smug, iridescent chaperone against a sky still falling gold, lantern light rippling gently across the water in every direction, thousands of tiny floating wishes drifting home at last to a girl who'd spent eighteen years wondering, in the quiet dark of a tower window, whether anyone out there was waiting for her.
They had been. All along. And now, impossibly, so was he.
You looked at Martin over the top of Kono's indignant, iridescent head, both of you still laughing, both of you still close enough to feel the warmth radiating off each other in the cooling night air, and you thought that whatever happened next. Whatever the palace held, whatever answers waited for you at the bottom of that harbor, whatever Mother would do when she finally caught up to you, because you had no illusions that she wouldn't—this part, right here, the boat and the gold light and the ridiculous, wounded dragon and the ridiculous, wonderful man across from you, was a part you were never, ever going to forget.
"Happy birthday, gongju," Martin said, quiet, over the top of a still-hissing Kono, and you thought, looking at him, that for the first time in your entire life, you actually believed it.
Later—much later, after the last of the lanterns had burned low and drifted, spent, back down toward the water, after Woojoo had forgiven you both just enough to let Martin scratch behind his ears without incident, after Kono had finally abandoned his post between you to curl up, smug and victorious, in the fold of your sleeve—you rowed the little boat back toward shore in a silence that wasn't empty at all. It was full instead of everything neither of you had quite said yet, the two of you sitting close enough that your knees kept knocking together with every small motion of the water.
You didn't know yet what waited for you at the top of that hill—what the palace would say when a girl with hair like sunlight walked through its gates for the first time in eighteen years, what Mother would do when she finally caught up to the two of you, what it would cost, in the end, to keep any of this. You only knew that you didn't want the night to be over, that some small, stubborn, hopeful part of you had already decided, somewhere between the singing bowl and the lantern light, that whatever came next, you wanted to face it with your hand in his.
"What happens now?" you asked, quiet, as the shore came slowly closer, torchlight from the docks beginning to flicker gold across the water to meet you.
Martin was quiet for a moment, considering the question with more weight than his usual answers ever carried.
"I don't know," he admitted, finally. "I've never actually planned past the running-away part before. Usually there isn't a now. There's just the next place to be, and the next, and I never stick around long enough to find out what comes after."
"And this time?"
He looked at you, truly and deeply gazed. It was the way he had at the overlook, at the tunnel's mouth, at every unguarded moment he'd let slip through the cracks of his own careful charm over the past four days—and something in his face settled, like a decision he'd already made without quite admitting it to himself.
"This time," he hummed, "I think I'd like to find out."
The boat bumped gently against the dock, and somewhere above you, one last, late lantern rose alone into the dark, gold and small and stubborn, chasing after all the others that had gone before it—and you thought, watching it go, that it looked exactly like hope.
Morning came in gray and soft, mist lying low over the harbor the way it did most mornings this close to the water, and you woke tucked against the base of a fishing boat with Kono curled warm against your throat and Martin already awake beside you, satchel across his shoulder, watching the fog with an expression you didn't much care for.
"You're making a weird face," you said, sitting up, voice still thick with sleep. "This like... stiff, deciding-something face."
"I don't have a stiff, deciding-something face."
"You absolutely do. You had it right before you climbed through my window and you have it right now."
He exhaled, and some of the careful blankness dropped away, replaced by something more honest—nervous, almost, in a way that didn't suit him nearly as well as the sarcasm usually did. "I want to do this properly. Whatever this is turning into." He nodded down at the satchel, at the unmistakable shape of the crown inside it. "I know people who'll take this off my hands for real money, enough that neither of us has to run from anything ever again. I want to trade it, clean, and come back for you, and then—I don't know. Figure out the rest. Together, if you'll have me."
"You could just give it back."
"I could," he agreed, "and normally I'd have laughed you out of the harbor for suggesting it. But I'm finding, lately, that a lot of things that used to make sense don't anymore, and a lot of things I never used to consider are starting to sound like exactly what I want." He reached out, tucked a loose strand of hair back from your face, unbearably gentle about it. "Wait for me here. I won't be long."
"You'd better not be."
"Princess." He said it soft, like a promise rather than a joke, and pressed one quick, warm kiss to your forehead before you could think of anything clever enough to say back. "I'll be back before the fog burns off. I swear it."
You watched him go, satchel bouncing against his hip, Woojoo trailing reluctantly after him with the particular resigned loyalty of a creature who'd decided, against every instinct, to trust his rider one more time—and you sat there on the damp dock with Kono in your lap, watching the mist swallow him up, and told yourself, firmly, that the ache in your chest was nothing. Just morning cold. Just nerves. Nothing at all like fear.
The fog thickened instead of burning off, and the longer you waited the worse the ache in your chest got, until you couldn't sit still any longer and started pacing the dock's edge, Kono clinging tight to your shoulder, both of you straining to hear anything at all beyond the slow slap of water against the pilings.
You heard voices first. They were low and harsh, more than one man, coming from somewhere off along the tree line past the last of the boats—and against every ounce of good sense you had left, you went toward them instead of away.
You found the clearing just past the fog's thickest bank, and what you found there stopped your heart cold: Martin on his knees in the mud, satchel gone, two enormous men standing over him—one you'd recognize instantly from the way Martin had gone rigid at the mere mention of them days ago, though you'd never learned their names until this moment.
Sunghoon. Jay. Buff, scarred, furious, and entirely unbothered by the fact that Martin was bleeding from a split lip and still trying, uselessly, to talk his way out.
"You cut us out," Sunghoon was saying, low and dangerous. "Two years of work, and you cut us out for a girl."
"It wasn't like that—"
"Save it." Jay's boot connected with Martin's ribs, and you had to bite down hard on your own hand to keep from crying out. "We'll take the crown. And we'll take the reward for you too. Two birds."
And then, from somewhere behind them, a voice you knew better than your own heartbeat, cool and pleasant and utterly without mercy.
"Gentlemen," Mother said, stepping out of the mist like she'd been waiting there all along, "I believe I can make this considerably more profitable for everyone involved."
You didn't understand, in the moment, what you were watching—only that Mother produced a small purse of coin, that Sunghoon and Jay's fury seemed to shift, calculating, weighing a better offer, that Martin's face went from pained to something close to horrified the second he understood what was happening.
"Don't," he said, to Mother, voice raw. "Whatever you're planning—leave her out of it. She doesn't have to be part of this."
"She has always been part of this," Mother said, almost gently, crouching down to his level with the particular tenderness she'd once reserved, you realized with a sick lurch, entirely for you. "You simply made the mistake of thinking you'd earned a say in it."
You didn't see exactly what happened next—a scuffle, Martin shouting your name once, sharp and desperate, before something struck him and the sound cut off—because Mother had already turned, unerringly, toward the tree line where you stood frozen, and her eyes found yours through the fog with a precision that told you she'd known exactly where you were the entire time.
"There you are," she said, soft, and something about the softness was so much worse than the fury from the hanok. "Come along, darling. I think it's well past time we had a talk."
You ran. You didn't get far.
By the time the fog burned off, you were sitting in the belly of a small, windowless room that smelled of salt and old rope—not the tower, you understood dimly, some hidden place along the coast Mother had clearly kept in reserve for exactly this kind of contingency—wrists bound loosely, more out of formality than real restraint, because Mother had never needed rope to keep you where she wanted you. She'd only ever needed your own heart, turned carefully against itself.
"He left, you know," she said, arranging herself on the room's single stool with the composure of a woman discussing the weather. "The moment those men offered him a way out, he took it. The crown. The reward money for turning you in besides, I'd imagine—a tidy sum for very little effort." She sighed, and it might almost have sounded sympathetic, if you hadn't spent eighteen years learning exactly how much genuine feeling lived underneath that particular sigh. "I saw the ship myself. Sailing out with the morning tide. I'm so sorry, darling. I did try to warn you what the world was like."
"You're lying."
"Am I?" She tilted her head, and something flickered behind her eyes—not doubt, never doubt, but the faint, familiar satisfaction of a woman watching a plan click neatly into place. "You've known him four days. I've kept you safe for eighteen years. Which of us, do you truly think, has earned your trust?"
You wanted, badly, to believe it was a lie—every instinct in your chest screamed that it was—and yet some old, deep, tower-shaped part of you, the part that had spent a lifetime being told the world was cruel and that Mother alone could be counted on, curled up small and aching and terribly, terribly willing to believe her anyway. That was the cruelest part of it. Not the lie itself, but how easily, after everything, it still found purchase.
"I want to go home," Mother said, standing, brushing invisible dust from her skirts. "Not the tower—somewhere new, somewhere he'll never think to look, somewhere I can keep you properly this time. You'll thank me for it, eventually. You always do."
You didn't answer. You sat very still in the dim, salt-smelling dark, and thought about a boat full of lantern light, and a man who'd bought you a fan for no reason at all, and a dragon who'd bitten his nose out of pure, ridiculous devotion—and something in you, quiet but absolutely unshakeable, refused, even now, even with the doubt gnawing at your ribs, to fully believe the story Mother was selling.
Martin woke in a cell.
His head throbbed, his ribs ached with every breath, and it took him several long, disoriented minutes to piece together that the last thing he remembered—Mother's voice, your name torn out of his throat, the world going dark—had apparently ended with him here, iron bars, straw floor, and a guard outside who addressed him, with unmistakable relish, by the exact reward figure printed on his wanted poster.
"They're saying you kidnapped a girl," the guard said, almost cheerful about it. "Some noble's daughter. Word is the hanging's set for sundown. Shame about the teeth, by the way—heard the sketch was more flattering than the real thing."
"I did not kidnap anyone," Martin gritted, with the flat, exhausted fury of a man repeating himself for the fifth time, "and my teeth are fine—" and then stopped, because none of that mattered even slightly next to the one thought currently eclipsing everything else in his skull: she thinks I left her.
He didn't remember much of what happened after that—only that somewhere past midnight, a small, furious, iridescent shape came skittering through the cell's single high window, having tracked him across half the coastline on nothing but sheer stubborn will. Not long after, the cell door groaned open from the outside to reveal Namjoon's enormous, grinning face, flanked by the twins, the man with the weasel, and, filling the corridor behind them with visible, righteous indignation, one extremely large, extremely unimpressed horse.
"Heard you got yourself in trouble," Namjoon said. "Figured we'd come see if the rumors about your teeth were the only thing worth breaking you out for."
"I could kiss every single one of you," Martin said, already moving.
"Please don't," said one of the twins, Juhoon. "We heard about the fisherman's wife."
He found you by the coast road at dusk, Mother's carriage rattling ahead through the last of the fading light, and there was no time for a plan, no time for anything except Woojoo breaking into a dead run with Martin bent low over his neck and Kono clinging, white-knuckled, to his collar, the whole ragged, impossible rescue party thundering after a carriage carrying away the only thing that had ever made the running feel like it was going somewhere.
He caught them at the cliff road, where the trees gave way to open sky and the sea spread out gray and endless below, and Mother, seeing him, didn't so much as flinch.
"Persistent," she said, stepping down from the carriage alone, something cold and final settling into her face. "I did wonder if you'd manage it."
"Let her go."
"She's not yours to demand things about." Mother's eyes flicked past him, to where you'd appeared in the carriage doorway. His wrists finally free, staring at Martin like you couldn't quite trust the sight of him—bruised, breathless, undeniably, impossibly there. "Tell him, darling. Tell him what you told me. That you understand now. That the world outside only ever takes."
"I told you I didn't believe you," you said, voice shaking but clear, stepping down onto the road. "I still don't."
Something in Mother's composure cracked, just slightly, just enough. "You would choose him. After everything I've given you. Everything I've sacrificed."
"You didn't give me anything," you said, and the words came out steadier than you felt, eighteen years of swallowed truth finally finding air. "You took me. There's a difference. I've only just learned it, but I've learned it completely."
What happened next happened fast, and badly, the way real danger always does—Mother lunging, a blade you hadn't seen catching the last of the light, Martin throwing himself between the two of you with no more thought than he'd given anything else reckless and right over the past four days, and then the sharp, terrible sound of metal finding flesh, and Martin going down hard onto the cliff road with blood already spreading dark across his side.
"Martin—"
"I'm fine," he said, which was so obviously, catastrophically untrue that you didn't even bother arguing, dropping to your knees beside him, hands already pressing hard against the wound, some old instinct screaming at you to sing, sing the old words, the ones Mother used every time she needed the magic, and you opened your mouth to do exactly that—
"Don't," Martin said, gripping your wrist with what strength he had left, eyes finding yours through the pain with a clarity that cut straight through everything else. "If you do that—if you use it now—she'll never let either of us go. Not really. Not ever. She'll just keep finding a reason to need you broken enough to fix."
"I can't just let you—"
"You can," he said, "trust me, princess, please—" and reached, with the last of his strength, for the small blade at his own belt, the one he'd used to fillet fish and cut rope and once, memorably, threaten a very rude tax collector, and before you fully understood what he meant to do, he'd taken hold of your long braid and cut, clean through, several feet of gold-shot hair falling away into the dirt at once, severed for good.
The change was immediate and terrible. The cut length dulled from gold to something ordinary and plain even as it fell, and Mother—mid-motion, reaching for you, for the hair, for the magic she'd spent a hundred years stealing—made a sound you would never, for the rest of your life, be able to fully forget.
Her hands went first, skin creasing and thinning before your eyes, decades collapsing into her all at once, unstoppable now that the last thread keeping her young had been severed for good.
She staggered back toward the cliff's edge, aged a hundred years in the space of ten seconds, and the wind off the sea did the rest, catching what was left of her and scattering it, gray and weightless, out over the water until there was nothing left standing on the road at all.
You didn't watch it finish. You were already turned back to Martin, hands shaking, pressing uselessly against a wound that wasn't healing, that had no reason left to heal, because the magic that could have done it lay scattered in cut hair and ash somewhere behind you.
"Hey," Martin said, voice going thin, "hey—don't do that face, the face you're doing—"
"Don't you dare," you said, furious and breaking all at once. "Don't you dare talk to me about faces right now—"
"I'd do it again," he said, eyes already starting to lose their focus, "every time, exactly the same, I just want you to know that, in case I don't get to—"
"You're not finishing that sentence."
He smiled anyway, small and lopsided, teeth perfectly, infuriatingly straight even now, and his eyes slid shut.
You didn't remember deciding to cry. You only remembered the tears coming, hot and helpless, one falling from your cheek straight onto the wound at his side—and the low, golden hum that followed, faint but unmistakable, the last living echo of magic that had never fully left you even with the hair gone, because it had never really lived in the hair at all. It had always been in you.
The wound closed. Color came back into his face all at once, like a held breath finally released, and his eyes opened, blinking up at you in dazed, disbelieving confusion.
"You're supposed to be dead," you told him, half laughing, half sobbing, hands still shaking as you cradled his face.
"Rude," he said, voice cracked but unmistakably, wonderfully himself, "extremely rude, waking a man up just to insult him—"
You didn't let him finish that sentence.
You kissed him before you'd fully decided to, both hands still fisted in the collar of his shirt where you'd been holding him together only seconds before, and it wasn't gentle — you didn't have gentle left in you, not after watching the color drain out of his face, not after the terrible, endless second where you'd genuinely believed you were about to lose him on a cliff road with the sea crashing below and no way left to fix it. It was too much all at once, everything you hadn't let yourself say out loud over four impossible days crashing out through your mouth against his instead — the fear, still shaking through your hands where they'd found his jaw; the relief, hot and overwhelming, closing your throat; the something else underneath both of those that you'd been carefully not naming since the moment he tumbled through your window and hadn't stopped, apparently, not even once, not even now.
Martin made a low, startled sound against your mouth — surprise, mostly, and then something that wasn't surprise at all — and his hand came up to cradle the back of your head, careful even now, even freshly healed and half out of his mind with everything that had just happened, fingers threading into what was left of your hair like he needed the proof of it, needed to know you were real and warm and still here under his hands. You felt him breathe out, shaky, against you, felt the last of the tension bleed out of his shoulders the way it never quite had, not fully, not once in the entire time you'd known him.
"You scared me," you said, when you finally, barely, pulled back far enough to speak, forehead pressed to his, both of you still breathing like you'd run the whole cliff road twice over. "You scared me, don't you dare ever do that again—"
"No promises," he murmured, and you could feel him smiling against your mouth, that same infuriating, undimmed confidence creeping back in even now, even bloodied, even seconds from death and back again. "Apparently I throw myself in front of knives for you now. New personality trait. Very inconvenient."
"Martin."
"I mean it, though." His thumb traced along your jaw, slow, and when you met his eyes there was nothing left of the joke in them at all, just something steady and stripped bare, more honest than anything he'd let you see across four days of careful, practiced charm. "I'd do it again. Every single time, exactly the same, no hesitation, and I need you to actually hear that, not just — not just as something I say to be dramatic on a cliff. I mean it."
"I heard you the first time. Right before you nearly died proving it."
"Poor timing, historically my specialty," he agreed, and kissed you again before you could argue, slower this time, both of you steadier now, no longer shaking quite so hard, just close and warm and unwilling, for a long moment, to be anything but exactly where you were—his hand still tangled in your hair, yours still fisted in his ruined, blood-stained shirt, the whole world narrowed down to the small distance between your mouths and the specific, dizzying fact that he was alive to kiss you back.
Somewhere nearby, Kono shrieked with pure, unrestrained delight, launching himself in a small iridescent blur to land on Martin's shoulder and chirp something that sounded, for the first time in their entire acquaintance, like approval rather than threat.
Woojoo, standing a few respectful paces off, huffed out a long breath through his nose and, for once in his entire life, looked almost pleased about something Martin had done—ears forward, head tossed once as if in reluctant, grudging blessing, the closest thing to a truce he'd ever offered.
You laughed, breathless and wet-eyed, breaking the kiss just far enough to rest your forehead against his again. "Even Kono's happy. Do you understand how significant that is? He's never once been happy about you."
"I earned it," Martin said, hoarse, still smiling like he couldn't quite stop. "Nearly dying for you apparently buys a man some goodwill, even from a judgmental little dragon who's hated me since the moment I fell through a window."
"Don't get used to it."
"Too late," he said, and pulled you back in before you could answer, no urgency left in it now, just something slow and certain and entirely unhurried, the two of you kissing on a cliff road at dawn like you had all the time in the world left to spend exactly like this.
The palace gates opened at dawn to a girl with short, plain, ordinary hair and a face the king recognized, the moment he saw it. With a certainty that needed no proof at all—some things a parent simply knows, in the body, before the mind has caught up to explaining why.
The queen reached you first, running down the palace steps in a way queens were certainly not supposed to run, and you didn't need eighteen years of stolen memory to understand, the instant her arms closed around you, exactly what you'd been missing every single night you'd watched those lanterns from too far away.
There was a great deal to explain, after—a kingdom's worth of grief to untangle. A name to relearn that had been yours all along, a wanted man's record to quietly, thoroughly clear, which the king accomplished within the hour with the particular efficiency of a father who had just gotten his daughter back and had no patience left for bureaucratic nonsense.
Martin stood through most of it looking deeply, uncharacteristically nervous, hands shoved in his pockets, until the king finally turned to him and said, simply, "You brought her home," and something in Martin's whole posture eased for what looked like the first time in his entire life.
Kono took up permanent residence on the windowsill of your new rooms, deeply unimpressed by the palace's excessive number of servants and considerably more impressed by the quality of the kitchen scraps. Woojoo was given, over Martin's strenuous objections, an official post as a royal guard's mount, a position he apparently found so satisfying that his campaign of vengeful boot-stepping slowed, within a few months, to something almost like fondness.
Namjoon and the rest of the hanok's strange, loyal patrons were invited, formally, to the palace for the next year's lantern festival, and caused, by every account, an enormous and thoroughly enjoyable scandal.
And every year after that, on the anniversary of the night a stranger fell through a tower window and a girl hit him with a singing bowl, the two of you took a small boat out onto the harbor when the lanterns rose. They were gold and endless, filling the sky the way they always had—except now, for the first time in either of your lives, you watched them from exactly where you were always meant to be.
"Happy anniversary, my gongju," Martin said, every single year, and every single year, you believed him a little more.
if she's here
it's crystal clear
i'm where i'm meant to go
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Genre: Horror, variety show, established relationship, fluff, comedy
Synopsis: Filming CORTIS' newest SUMBAKKOKJIL episode was supposed to be another chaotic variety show. Unfortunately for you, the production team forgot oneeeee tiny detail: You were utterly terrified of the dark.
Warning(s): Jump scares, mild horror, darkness, suspense, haunted house themes, light language (I realized just now that I never warn this and I’m so sorry)
Word Count: ~11.2k+ 🙂
A/N: Hai! I literally tried my very hardest to condense some of my dialogue so that I can make it all one part…but alas, it didn’t work. I hope you enjoy the rest of the fic!!
They rounded another corner before James spotted one of the abandoned processing rooms with its door hanging halfway open.
"In there!" The two stumbled inside, immediately grabbing their harness lights to kill the brightness until only the faintest glow remained. James slowly pushed the old metal door until only a small crack remained.
"...Don't breathe so loud."
"I literally need oxygen to live."
"Quiet."
Both of them froze. Outside…step, step, step. Something walked across the gravel slowly and patiently. Keonho clamped both hands over his own mouth as the footsteps stopped directly outside. A shadow stretched beneath the crack in the doorway and James felt every muscle in his body lock.
Please…please keep walking...
The handle moved just slightly. Click. Both boys nearly screamed, but the door shifted barely an inch before stopping. There was no sounds for a few seconds, suffocating the two in fear. Then, the footsteps continued stepping. Getting farther away even. James waited another ten full seconds before finally exhaling.
"...I think..." He swallowed. "...I think we're okay."
Keonho slowly lowered his hands. "...I almost met my ancestors dude."
James snorted, calming his heart down from the previous situation.
♡
Meanwhile, Martin sprinted through another narrow alley between the fishing buildings before spotting several enormous rusted metal barrels stacked against a fence.
"...Perfect…I guess."
Without questioning whether this was actually a good idea or an idea that wouldn’t give him tetanus, he climbed into the largest metal barrel feet first before crouching inside.
"...This is either genius..." He looked around the empty barrel. "...Or incredibly stupid."
His eyes landed on a cardboard box leaning nearby.
"...Actually..." He reached over, pulled it inside, and balanced it on his head.
"...There." Complete darkness. "...I can't believe this is working."
Crunch. His smile disappeared. Footsteps were very close outside. Martin held his breath as the footsteps stopped beside the barrel. A slow scratching sound dragged across the outside metal wall.Screeeeeech... He squeezed his eyes shut. There was another scrape before…nothing. Several agonizing seconds later, the footsteps faded away and Martin waited another moment before carefully lifting one edge of the cardboard.
"...Still alive!"
♡
Seonghyeon had barely made it inside another building before he found himself staring at a narrow supply closet.
"...Good enough." He squeezed himself inside, quietly pulling the door almost shut. It smelled like damp wood and seawater.
"...Please don't let there be spiders..." He immediately regretted saying that. "...Why did I say spiders?"
Outside, someone walked past the door. The old floorboards in front of it creaked, and suddenly-
BANG. A nearby door slammed somewhere else in the building, and Seonghyeon physically jumped.
"...Mother of-" He slapped both hands over his own mouth before another sound escaped. "...I'm fine."
He was, in fact, NOT fine but whatever I guess.
♡
Juhoon led you into another abandoned storage room before immediately spotting a tall wooden wardrobe shoved against one wall.
"...In there."
You looked at it. "...Seriously?"
"It's better than outside."
"...okay."
The two of you squeezed inside together, and the doors clicked shut creating instant darkness. Only the tiny antenna lights attached to your harnesses leaked enough light through your hands grasping them to faintly illuminate each other's faces. You could hear both your breathing and your own heartbeat at this point.
"...Jju?"
"...Yeah?"
"I've decided to never get in a car unless I know where I’m going."
A tiny laugh escaped him. "...Me neither."
Another loud clang echoed somewhere outside. You flinched so hard your shoulder bumped into his.
"...Sorry."
"You don't have to apologize."
More footsteps approached closer this time. Instinctively, you reached for his sleeve again, but instead, he quietly intertwined his fingers with yours.
"...You're shaking," he whispered.
"...You're shaking too."
Another step became closer, until the footsteps stopped somewhere outside the closet. Neither of you breathed because someone, or something, was inside the room now. Your grip on Juhoon's hand tightened so much it left an indent, but he gently squeezed back. Then-
BANG! Something slammed against another locker across the room. You jumped so violently a tiny squeak escaped your throat. Juhoon's free hand immediately covered your mouth just enough to muffle the sound. His face was only inches away now, but his own eyes were wide. Terrified. But even in this situation, he was looking at you instead of whatever was outside.
"It's okay," he mouthed silently.
Outside the wardrobe, footsteps lingered. Then...BANG. Another door, further away was hit open. The footsteps followed slower until they eventually became nothing. The silence returned, and after another thirty seconds, Juhoon slowly removed his hand from your mouth.
"...Think..." He listened. "...I think it's gone."
You let out the longest breath of your life. "...oh my gosh I’m going to throw up."
"I feel the same don’t worry."
"So…you still have all ten fingers attached?"
"...Barely."
He laughed quietly. "...That's my brave girl."
You rolled your eyes. For the first time since the game had truly begun, you smiled back.
♡
It was almost funny how no one moved. Every single member was like…waiting for somebody else to make the first mistake. James on the other hand, he slowly cracked the metal door open no more than an inch.
"...Do you see anything?"
Keonho leaned over a few cardboard boxes he’d been sitting by. "...Darkness."
"...wow discovery of the century."
"I'm trying my best."
James pushed the door open another inch. The gravel path outside sat completely empty without any people, ghosts, soaker fisherman, or anything. Only the gentle rocking of boats against the dock.
"...I think we're okay."
"I don't believe you."
"...uh neither do I but how else will we get out of here."
After another careful look in both directions, James finally stepped outside. Reluctantly, Keonho followed him back into the harbor and the dark of the night.
♡
Martin carefully climbed out of the barrel, cardboard box still balanced on his head.
"...I can't believe that actually worked." He tossed the box aside before dusting off his jeans. "...gosh it was so hot in there."
♡
Seonghyeon slowly opened the closet door to be met with nothing. He stepped into the hallway.
"...Hello?" Only silence answered him.
"...o…kay."
He adjusted the straps of his camera harness before cautiously continuing down the corridor.
"...James? Keonho? Anybody?" No response. "...Fantastic."
♡
Back inside the wardrobe, you and Juhoon were still standing much closer than either of you realized.
"...Should we go?"
Juhoon listened for another few seconds before giving a small nod. "...Stay behind me."
"...Jju."
"I'm serious."
He opened the wardrobe door. Fresh night air drifted into the room from the other front door being left open by the seeker. It felt strange after hiding in such a tiny space. You stepped out first this time, your harness lights sweeping slowly across the old storage room.
"...We're okay."
Juhoon quietly reached over and straightened the camera harness on your shoulder where it'd shifted while you were squeezed into the wardrobe.
"...There."
"...Thanks."
♡
For several long minutes, the six of you unknowingly wandered the harbor alone once again. Only this time, everyone moved differently. There was like, no confidence and every corner was approached cautiously. James carefully pushed open another weathered door.
"...Hello?"
Nothing. He swept his harness lights across the room filled with broken shelves, old fishing nets, a cracked cooler, a some funky smell he couldn’t name.
"...uhhh." He sighed before turning around. "...Come on, Keonho."
"...I'm already coming. You don't have to narrate it."
"I do when I'm scared."
♡
Elsewhere, Seonghyeon paused outside another storage building.
"...Okay..." He slowly peeked inside. "...Please don't have another creepy fisherman."
There wasn’t anything, so he took one careful step inside. Immediately, his foot bumped something. Thunk. He looked down very slowly just to see a faded red buoy rolling lazily across the floor.
"...You scared me."
♡
Martin slowly wandered between another row of fishing rooms, shining his light into every doorway he passed.
"...What exactly are we looking for..." His sentence slowly trailed off.
"...Wait." His eyes widened. "...The doll." He stopped walking altogether. "...The bucket."
He pointed back toward the building he was at when the game begun.
"...We actually found one." He laughed quietly to himself. "...We're idiots."
Without wasting another second, he spun around and immediately started jogging back the way he'd come.
♡
You and Juhoon carefully followed the edge of one of the wooden docks, your lights bouncing over the black water.
"...Don't look into it," you muttered.
Juhoon looked over. "...What?"
"The water."
"...Why?"
"They literally said not to?"
"...true."
You kept your eyes firmly on the dock instead. "...I don't need eye contact with whatever lives in there."
A tiny splash echoed somewhere beneath the boards and both of you immediately stopped walking. After a few moments, the two of you continued forward, scanning every rope, every bucket, and every abandoned boat for anything resembling one of the Dead Pieces. After another few cautious steps, Juhoon suddenly stopped.
"...Wait."
You turned toward him. "What?"
His eyebrows slowly pulled together. "...I just remembered something."
"You remembered something now?"
"When I first took my blindfold off..." He pointed back toward the opposite side of the harbor. "...There was a little fishing shrine near the tent where I was at that’s also near the burning bowl area.”
You blinked. "...Okay?"
"There was something sitting beside it like kind of dipped in the water."
"...Like...what?"
"I didn't think anything of it then..." He looked back toward the docks. "...But now..." His eyes widened slightly. "...I think it was a Dead Piece."
You followed where he was looking. "...That's...pretty far."
"...Yeah." He checked the path ahead before looking back at you. "...I'll just jog over there."
Your stomach immediately sank. "...Alone?"
"It'll be quicker."
"...Jju..."
"I'll be back before you know it."
You hesitated. Everything tonight had gone wrong the moment someone separated from the group.
"...Maybe we should stay together."
"I know..." His voice softened. "...But if we're right, that's one more piece already found."
He smiled reassuringly before gently squeezing your hand. "...Stay on the main paths. Don't wander into the buildings unless you have to."
"...You're giving me instructions?"
"...Because I know you'll ignore half of them."
"...Excuse you."
He laughed quietly. "...Meet me back at the burning bowl if you find anything."
"...Promise you'll be careful."
"...Promise."
Reluctantly, you let go of his hand. "...Don't take forever."
"I won't."
With one last smile, Juhoon turned and started jogging down the dock, disappearing between the weathered fishing buildings until only the bouncing light on his harness remained. Then, it vanished around a corner. You suddenly felt a lot smaller standing there by yourself.
"...I hate this..." Taking a steadying breath, you turned toward another row of abandoned storage rooms. "...Come on..."
♡
Several buildings away, Seonghyeon carefully crept through another abandoned processing room.
"...Please let there be literally anything useful..." His light swept over the broken crates, old ropes, and extremely rusted hooks, but there was nothing. "...Seriously?"
He sighed before stepping back into the hallway and rubbing the back of his neck while rounding the next corner. Immediately, he froze. The seeker was there. Not standing, crawling. Her soaked hair dragged across the floor as she slowly pulled herself toward him with unnatural movements.
Scrraaaape...Drip. Scrraaaape... Her head slowly lifted and their eyes met.
"...No."
She smiled and Seonghyeon's entire soul left his body.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
He spun around and sprinted the opposite direction.
"Nope nope nope NOPE!"
Behind him- scrape, scrape, scrape. The sound was getting closer.
"...WHY IS SHE SO FAST?!"
He barely made it down the hallway before someone grabbed his shoulder.
"Caught."
"...WHAT?!"
He nearly collapsed as two laughing staff members stepped out from behind the wall. One pointed toward another building.
"Prison."
Seonghyeon dramatically sighed.
♡
Juhoon slowed to a stop beside the small fishing shrine.
"...Here." Exactly where he remembered it. An old fabric sheet was dipped into the water, connected to some box as well. Weathered prayer ribbons fluttered gently in the breeze, and slowly he crouched down to pull it out.
"...I knew it." His fingers wrapped around the sheet as he began pulling, but he heard something before he got it out. Behind him...
Drip. Juhoon's smile faded. Very slowly, he looked over his shoulder. The seeker stood at the edge of the dock, water dripping steadily from her clothes.
"...Seriously?"
Her head tilted. "...Found you."
"...Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
He barely managed two steps before- Tap.
"Caught."
Juhoon closed his eyes. "...She's never going to let me live this down."
♡
Elsewhere, Keonho cautiously wandered with James through another weathered storage room, his harness light bouncing over stacks of old fishing crates.
"...Please let there be a doll..." He sighed dramatically. "...I'm talking to inanimate objects now."
As he turned to leave, something caught the corner of his eye.
"...Wait." Tucked behind an overturned bucket sat a small wooden box no bigger than both of his hands. Faded rope wrapped around it, and a worn paper talisman was tied across the lid.
"...No way..." He slowly crouched beside it. "...This has to be one."
Very carefully, he untied the rope before lifting the lid. Inside rested another dead piece.
"...YES!" He immediately closed the box again and held it against his chest. "I actually found one!"
James turned on his heels and walked up to him saying, “That’s great!! We are getting closer to escaping!”
Keonho immediately nodded and looked at the doll. “I’m going to quickly take it to the burning bowl area okay? You stay behind and look for more.”
James nodded and Keonho looked around once more before taking off into a jog.
"...Please don't let creepy water lady be nearby..."
♡
The burning bowl sat alone near the fishing shrine as Keonho slowed to a stop, breathing heavily.
"...Okay..." He carefully placed the doll near the bowl. "...Sorry little dude."
Smiling to himself, he quickly turned around and ran back on the harbor. "...Now I just have to not die."
♡
"...Please..." Keonho slowed as he reached another narrow gravel path. "...Please let me reunite with somebody..."
He rounded the corner and adjusted the camera harness on his shoulders before continuing through another abandoned fishing shed. The second he stepped forward-
FWUMP. He tripped into a hole in the ground, legs caught by a tangle of fishing nets.
"...WHAT?!" He rolled onto his back, desperately trying to untangle himself. "...Why is this happening to me?!"
The more he struggled, the tighter it became. "...Seriously?!"
He finally managed to free one arm before pulling the net over his head. "...Almost..."
He staggered to his feet- Tap. Keonho slowly closed his eyes.
"...You're joking."
The seeker stood behind him, dripping seawater onto the floor. "...Found you."
Keonho let out the longest sigh imaginable.
"...I escaped the net..." He looked directly into his camera. "...Just to lose anyway."
Two staff members stepped out from behind the wall. "Prison."
"...I knew you were going to say that."
♡
Back near where Keonho used to be, James carefully pushed open another weathered door.
"...Anything?" He walked farther inside. "...These dolls are impossible to-"
Splash. He frowned.
"...Hello?" No answer. "...Probably just the water..."
He turned around and the seeker stood less than six feet away.
"...what in-." James tried to bolt past her, but a soaked hand tapped his shoulder.
"Caught."
James stopped walking.
"...why is she so scary..." He looked directly into the camera attached to his harness. "...I guess at least I get to know what jail looks like."
♡
Meanwhile, Martin had just made it back at the building where he'd first discovered the floating doll.
"...Please still be there..." He hurried inside and climbed two flights of stairs to reach the bathroom he remembered it being in. The bucket sat exactly where he'd left it, doll floating inside.
"...Yes." He carefully reached into the water before lifting out the dead piece. "...You were a lot creepier the first time I saw you."
He looked toward the doorway. "...Alright."
He started walking towards the door before he heard drops of water coming from the outside. Immediately, his heart stopped, and in an attempt to save himself, he shut the door. As it clicked close, he slowly slid down the back of the door and took a seat.
“Oh my gosh I’m cooked.”
♡
You slowly wandered between another row of abandoned fishing sheds, your harness light sweeping across the ground.
"...Come on..." You frowned. "...There has to be something."
As you stepped around another weathered corner, something tucked beneath a broken wooden pallet caught your attention.
"...Huh?" You carefully crouched down before pulling it free. Another weathered wooden box.
"...Wait..." Your heartbeat sped up. "...Please be one..."
You untied the faded rope before lifting the lid. Inside there was another doll. A dead piece.
"...No way." You couldn't help smiling. "...I actually found one."
You carefully took the doll out of the box before hugging it against your chest. "...Okay..."
You glanced toward the direction of the burning bowl. "...Let's go."
♡
Martin stayed perfectly still against the bathroom door, barely daring to breathe. The Dead Piece rested tightly in his hands…
Drip. Drip… and the footsteps outside hadn't moved.
"...Please leave..." Another slow scrape echoed through the hallway. Screeeeeech...
"...Nope." He looked around the tiny bathroom in desperation. There wasn't anywhere to hide. No closets, no cabinets, not even a barrel this time. His eyes drifted toward the small window above the sink.
"...Wait." A tiny spark of hope crossed his face. "...Actually..."
He hurried over and carefully unlatched it. The rusted frame squealed the slightest bit as he pushed it open.
"...Shhh..."
Martin froze, waiting for a sound. The footsteps outside never changed, so he slowly looked down at the doll in his hands.
"If I get caught with you..." He sighed. "...Someone else is going to have to finish the job."
Carefully leaning through the window, he aimed toward the gravel road running between the buildings.
"...Good luck, little guy."
Whoosh. The doll sailed through the air before landing with a dull, thunk right in the middle of the path. Martin immediately shut the window, backed away, and held his breath once more.
♡
You carefully made your way through the harbor, both hands wrapped around your Dead Piece.
"...Almost there..." The burning bowl wasn't much farther.
Ding. Your phone buzzed. Thinking it was another clue from the PD, you glanced down. Instead, it was…the group chat?
Martin:
I had to ditch one of the Dead Pieces. Bathroom on the second floor. I threw it out the window onto the main road before I got caught. If anyone's still alive...please grab it.
Your eyes widened.
"...Seriously?" You quickly looked around before jogging toward the road Martin had described. "...Please still be there..."
Only a few moments later, your harness light caught something resting in the gravel. "...There!"
You hurried over before crouching down. The weathered doll lay exactly where Martin had thrown it.
"...Good throw." Smiling to yourself, you picked it up before carefully holding it in the same hand as your other doll.
"...Okay." Now carrying two Dead Pieces, you turned back toward the docks. "...Let's NOT get caught."
♡
The burning bowl came into view a few minutes later. "...Made it."
You knelt beside the stone pedestal, noting the Dead Piece that was already waiting there. Keonho’s.
"...Sorry you guys." You gently placed your own beside it, and then Martin's. Three dolls now rested together at the base of the burning bowl. Which meant…only two remained. Was one of them the one Juhoon had almost reached?
"...Two left..."
Before you could think any further-
Ding. Your phone buzzed again. This time it wasn't the group chat.
PD:STATUS UPDATE
Every member except Y/N has been captured. Current Prisoners are James, Martin, Keonho, Seonghyeon, and Juhoon. Y/N is now the final surviving player.
New Mission:
Proceed to the Black Room and complete the trial inside to release the captured members. Failure will result in permanent imprisonment for all remaining players.
Time Remaining:
2,317 seconds.
You stared at the screen.
"...Wait..." You slowly looked around the empty harbor. "...I'm the only one left?"
The realization settled over you all at once. No wonder it had felt so quiet and you hadn't run into anyone. Everyone...had been caught. Your stomach dropped.
"...You've got to be kidding me." Somewhere across the harbor, a rusted sign creaked in the wind. Then, from somewhere deeper in the fishing village a single metal door slowly slammed shut. BANG. You instinctively looked toward the sound.
"...Guess I'm going to the Black Room."
♡
A single wooden sign hung crooked above the doorway. ‘BLACK ROOM’
"...good gosh."
You slowly walked toward it reluctantly, and the old wooden door groaned as you pushed it open.Creeeeeeak... Your harness lights barely illuminated the entrance. Beyond it...was absolutely nothing. Not darkness, no, it was essentially pitch black. A hallway so completely void of light it almost looked solid.
"...Hell nah." You immediately backed out and shut the door. SLAM.
"No." You folded your arms. "...Actually no."
You looked at the camera attached to your harness. "...They really expected me to just walk in there? That's crazy."
A laminated sign beside the doorway suddenly caught your attention. You stepped closer.
RULES
DO NOT USE LIGHT.
DO NOT RUN THROUGH.
"...Those are the two things I was planning on doing..."
You stared at the door, sighing dramatically before pacing back and forth in front of the entrance.
"...Okay..." Deep breath. "...You have watched horror movies."
You bounced lightly on your heels.
"...Come on..." Another bounce. "...You can do this. Easy peasy lemon squeezey."
You jumped up and down a few times, shaking out your hands. Then, you suddenly stopped.
"...Not easy." You groaned loudly before rubbing both hands over your face.
"...Okay ghosts." You pointed toward the door. "...Let's make a deal. If I perform...will you let me pass peacefully? ...Please?"
No words were said. Obviously.
"...I'm taking that as a yes." You nodded confidently. "...Wonderful."
You immediately stood a little straighter before quietly starting the choreography to one of the groups' songs.
"...Okay..." Your feet moved almost automatically as you mumbled the lyrics under your breath. "...Teppanyaki on my Mac, huh, I go 영크크."
You finished your little dance and did a tiny clap.
"...WOOOO!" You pointed at absolutely nobody. "...Let's go!"
Outside, on the other side of the building, the five members sitting behind the jail bars all looked up simultaneously.
"...She's dancing? Why did I hear 영크크." James asked.
"...To calm herself down," Juhoon replied.
"...Honestly..." He laughed quietly. "...It tracks."
Back outside the Black Room, you finished the last move of another dance before dramatically bowing toward the darkness.
"...Thank you." Silence. "...Wonderful audience."
You looked back at the door.
"...Okay now I'm actually terrified." You bounced on your heels again. "...Three...Two...One..."
You opened the door. Creeeeak... Immediately, darkness swallowed everything. You reluctantly reached up and switched off your harness lights. Click. Great it was even darker now, and you couldn't even see your own hands. Your feet refused to move even if you wanted to keep going. Which you didn’t.
"...Come on." You took one step forward and the wooden floor creaked beneath you. "...I'm literally just walking!”
As you took another step, your eyes adjusted. Barely just enough to make out vague shapes lining both walls. They were tall and still, but worst of all, breathing. Every muscle in your body locked. They weren't mannequins, but real people standing shoulder to shoulder in complete silence. Watching you. None of them even spoke to you or made a sound. They just…stared.
"...Hi…I hope you're all having..." You swallowed. “...A wonderful evening."
There wasn’t any sounds made.
"...Okay." Your heartbeat was pounding so loudly you were convinced they could hear it.
"...Remember..." You whispered to yourself. "...Don't run."
You took careful steps, noticing that every person remained completely still.
"...You're doing great." At this point, you were more talking to yourself. "...You're so brave. You're literally amazing."
One of the actors slowly tilted their head.
"...Don't do that." Another one twitched, and you pointed at them. "...Cut that out."
You took one more shaky step before looking up. The hallway was ending soon, and a black curtain hung directly ahead.
"...THAT'S THE EXIT." Without another thought, you burst through it. "WOOOOOO!"
You immediately broke into a sprint the second your feet hit gravel. "So sorry!"
You rounded one corner, and then another before-
"...GUYS!" Five familiar faces immediately shot toward the sound.
"Y/N!"
You practically launched yourself toward the jail. Juhoon reached both arms through the bars just as you crashed into them. He wrapped them around your shoulders as much as the metal bars allowed, gently pulling you close.
"...Hey."
Your breathing still hadn't slowed. "...That was awful."
"I know." His hand softly smoothed over your hair. "...You did so well."
"...There were live PEOPLE in there Jju."
“What!?”
"...They blinked and breathed and stared at me…”
"...I'm so proud of you."
Before either of you could say anything else-
"...HELLO?" James pointed dramatically at the bars. "...I love you two…very much. But I also love freedom even more."
Martin folded his arms. "...It stinks of romance oh my gosh."
You laughed, finally stepping back from Juhoon. "...Sorry."
You quickly went in front of the jail and tapped the red button, releasing all of them. As Seonghyeon walked out, he held up something wrapped in cloth.
"...Good news though."
You blinked. "...Wait. How do you have a Dead Piece?"
"Oh." He smiled. "...Jail challenge."
Y/N stepped closer as he explained.
"There were two metal poles inside. One had a plus and the other had a minus. All we had to do was touch them both at the exact same time while holding hands."
"...Like making a circuit?" you asked.
He nodded. "The box above us short-circuited." He pointed upward. "...And this dropped out. So we weren't completely useless."
"...You were never useless," you smiled.
James immediately pointed toward the harbor. "...Okay. So what's left?"
You looked between everyone. "...Only one now."
Martin nodded once. "...James hyung."
James already understood. "...We'll search ahead. The rest of you take that one to the burning bowl."
"You'll catch up?"
Martin grinned. "...Eventually."
With that, the two disappeared into another narrow path between the fishing buildings while the four of you turned toward the docks once more. The four of you headed down the gravel path together, Seonghyeon carrying the Dead Piece from the jail while Keonho absentmindedly kicked small rocks along the ground.
"...Well," Keonho sighed. "...At least nobody has to go through another Black Room."
"I refuse," you answered immediately. "If there are two, I'm staying here."
Juhoon laughed quietly beside you. "...Noted."
The group continued walking for another minute before Juhoon suddenly slowed. "...Wait."
Everyone looked over. "What?"
His eyebrows slowly knitted together. "...I just remembered something."
"...That's usually either really good or really bad," Martin wasn't there to say it, but Keonho happily filled in.
Juhoon blinked. "...Where I first started..."
"...Yeah?"
"That’s basically where the burning bowl is." He stopped walking altogether. "...The white sheet..."
"...The white sheet?" Seonghyeon repeated.
Juhoon's eyes widened. "...The thing hanging into the water that I almost pulled out."
"...Oh." You slowly looked at him. "...Jju."
"...I think...I think that's the last Dead Piece for sure. Near the burning bowl.”
Nobody spoke. Keonho slowly turned in the direction James and Martin had disappeared.
"...We literally sent them away then."
"...Shoot." You immediately pulled out your phone.
Y/N:
WAIT. COME BACK. LAST DOLL IS BY THE SHRINE.
Several seconds passed, and yet no reply.
"...I don't think they have their phones out," Seonghyeon muttered.
"...They're probably searching," Juhoon sighed. "...Let's just grab it ourselves."
Everyone nodded before breaking into a jog toward the shrine.
♡
Meanwhile, James looked underneath another old fishing table. "...Nothing."
Martin checked behind several stacked lobster traps. "...Nothing here."
James sighed dramatically. "...Whoever hid these dolls is going to be hearing my several complaints soon."
"...Submit them after we survive." Martin rubbed the back of his neck before looking around another abandoned processing room. "...Where would you even hide one?"
James shrugged. "...Honestly, I'd probably hide it somewhere to irritate the people looking for it."
"...Helpful."
"...Thank you."
Suddenly- Scrraaaape... Both of them froze.
"...Martin."
"...Yeah?"
"...Tell me that wasn't what I think it was."
Scrraaaape... Closer this time. Martin slowly looked toward the doorway.
"...Run?"
"...Run."
The two immediately bolted into the nearest storage building, and Martin slammed the door shut. BANG! James twisted the rusted lock. Click.
"...Locked!"
"The windows!"
Together they rushed across the room, yanking every dusty blind downward. Thunk, thunk, thunk.Darkness swallowed the room as both of them stood completely still.
"...I think we lost her."
Martin nodded. "...I think so too."
Five seconds passed. Then- Creeeeeeak. James frowned.
"...Martin.”
"...What."
"...We locked the door."
"...Yeah?"
"...Not the window."
Martin's eyes slowly drifted toward the far wall. The window very slowly began sliding sideways. Creeeeeeeeeeak...
"...oh my fricking-"
A soaking wet hand gripped the windowsill, quickly followed by another before its black hair appeared. And suddenly-
"AHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The seeker's head burst through the opening with an ear-piercing scream. Both boys shrieked louder than she did.
"WE JUST GOT OUT OF JAIL!"
"LEAVE US ALONE!"
James practically climbed onto Martin trying to get away. Tap. Tap. The seeker calmly reached through the window and touched both of their shoulders.
"...Caught."
James slowly looked into the camera. "...This feels targeted!!"
Martin sighed the deepest sigh of his life. "...Can we get a loyalty punchcard at this point?"
Two staff members opened the door from outside. "Prison."
"...Again?" James groaned.
"...Again."
♡
Back near the shrine, Juhoon carefully crouched beside the weathered fishing altar.
"...Here."
Just beneath the soaked white cloth, a familiar wooden box rested half submerged in the water. He reached down, carefully lifting it free before opening and taking the last dead piece out.
"...Got it." You smiled.
"...That's all five." Keonho practically cheered. "...WE'RE FREE!"
"Not yet," Seonghyeon laughed. "...Let's burn them first."
The four hurried the short distance to the burning bowl. The other four Dead Pieces still rested beside the pedestal exactly where you'd left them. One by one you placed every doll into the iron bowl. Beside it sat a large red button labeled ‘FIRE’.
"...Who's pressing it?" Keonho asked.
Everyone immediately looked at him. "...Why me?!"
"You've pressed everything else today," you smiled.
"...That's unfortunately true." He dramatically cracked his knuckles. "...For freedom."
Click. For a moment, nothing happened. Then- WHOOOOSH! Brilliant orange flames erupted from the bowl. Every Dead Piece disappeared into the fire, and immediately-
BEEEEEEEEEEP! Red warning lights exploded to life across the harbor, soon followed by sirens echoing through every building. WEEOOO! WEEOOO! WEEOOO! All four of your phones vibrated simultaneously.
DING.
PD:
MISSION COMPLETE. THE HARBOR IS COLLAPSING. ALL SURVIVING PARTICIPANTS HAVE 100 SECONDS TO REACH THE EXIT. FAILURE TO EVACUATE BEFORE LOCKDOWN WILL RESULT IN ELIMINATION.
A timer immediately appeared.
100, 99, 98…
Keonho looked up. "...RUN!"
The four of you immediately took off.
♡
Across the harbor, the jail door suddenly clicked open by itself. James blinked.
"...We're free already?"
Martin didn't question it. "...RUN FIRST."
The two sprinted out of jail without another word.
♡
Gravel crunched beneath your shoes as the four of you flew through the narrow pathways.
"...Eighty-one seconds!" Keonho shouted.
"I'm trying!" Seonghyeon laughed breathlessly. "...Why is the exit so far?!"
Juhoon looked ahead. "...Almost there!"
Your footsteps slowed as you noticed something. Your hand instinctively reached toward your belt loop, noticing the absence of weight on it. It was empty.
You froze. "...No."
Far behind you near the wooden docks, something small and pink rested on the gravel. "...Shoot."
You looked between Juhoon and the tiny marshmallow before ultimately deciding to spin around and sprint back the way you came.
♡
Juhoon was the first to stumble through the heavy exit doors. A different kind of cold night air hit him, and he bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.
"...We're out..."
A second later Seonghyeon burst through beside him, nearly tripping over the threshold.
"...Never." He wheezed. "...Doing that again."
Keonho came sprinting out after him, practically collapsing against the nearest wall. "...I hated every second of that."
The three of them stood there breathing heavily while the massive metal doors remained open behind them. Red emergency lights still flashed across the harbor, and somewhere deeper inside the arena the evacuation sirens continued blaring. BWWWWWWWW-
"...We actually did it," Keonho laughed between breaths.
"...Barely," Seonghyeon answered.
Juhoon finally straightened up, wiping sweat from his forehead. "...Now we just need everyone el-"
Another pair of footsteps echoed behind them. Martin and James exploded through the doorway at full speed.
"...MOVE!"
"We ARE moving!"
The two nearly crashed straight into the others before finally slowing to a stop several feet away. James immediately dropped onto the pavement.
"...I'm taking an extended nap tomorrow."
Martin collapsed beside him. "...Same."
Nobody spoke for several seconds. Just six people trying to remember how breathing worked. Then James looked around. "...Wait..."
Martin followed his gaze. "...Where's Y/N?"
Juhoon's smile disappeared instantly. He looked beside himself and then behind him.
"...Baby?" Nothing answered, and his heartbeat immediately sped up.
"...Wait." He turned another full circle. "...Where is she?"
Keonho blinked. "...Wasn't she right behind us?"
"I thought she was with you," Seonghyeon answered.
Juhoon's stomach dropped.
"...No." His voice came out much quieter than intended. "...She was behind me..."
James slowly sat upright. "...Maybe she's still coming?"
Juhoon immediately looked back toward the massive doorway. Still nothing. Only flashing red lights, sirens, and that oh so lovely darkness.
"...No..." He took several steps toward the entrance. "...Y/N?"
No answer greeted him and his breathing became noticeably faster.
"...Y/N!" No sounds. "...No no no..." He looked frantically between every member. “...Did anybody see her?!"
Everyone shook their heads. "...She was literally with us!"
"...Maybe she took another path?" Martin suggested, although he didn't sound convinced himself.
Juhoon ran a hand through his hair. "...Why would she take another path?"
Nobody had an answer which made his chest tighten even more. "...She wouldn't..."
"...WAIT!" Keonho suddenly pointed toward the darkness beyond the docks. "...LOOK!"
Everyone spun around. Far across the harbor, a tiny harness light bounced wildly through the darkness running fast. Very fast.
"...Is that-"
"It is!" Seonghyeon shouted.
Juhoon's heart leapt in happiness…until he saw what was behind you. It was that damn seeker absolutely flying across the gravel, water spraying behind her with every impossibly long stride she took as she closed the distance.
"...BABY!" His voice echoed across the harbor, causing you to look up.
"...JJU!" You were absolutely booking it. "I'M TRYING!"
The countdown speaker echoed through the entire harbor. "...TEN...NINE..." The exit doors began moving slowly, beginning to close.
"...GO!" James screamed.
"...EIGHT...SEVEN..."
You pumped your arms harder. "I'M GOING!"
The seeker's footsteps thundered behind you. Closer. Closer.
"...SIX..."
Juhoon couldn't stop himself anymore. He sprinted toward the doorway.
"...JUHOON!" Martin shouted.
"I'M GETTING HER!"
"...FIVE..."
He reached the edge of the doorway just as you rounded the final corner. Your breathing had become completely ragged, and your legs burned from running this ungodly far distance. Somehow, the seeker was barely a few feet behind you.
"...FOUR..."
"...BABY!"
"...THREE..."
You threw yourself forward, and Juhoon reached for you at exactly the same moment.
"...TWO..."
Your hand slammed into his and he yanked with everything he had.
"...ONE..."
You practically launched through the doorway…and crashed directly into him. The force knocked both of you completely off balance.
"...OOF!"
The two of you tumbled backward onto the hard dirt together just as- BOOM. The enormous metal doors slammed shut behind you. For a second no one moved, and the only sound that can be heard was your heavy breathing. Then everyone collectively exploded.
"...SHE MADE IT!"
"...LET'S GOOOO!"
"...NO WAY!"
"...THAT WAS INSANE!"
You lay sprawled across Juhoon, breathing so hard your lungs hurt. "...I..."
You couldn't even finish the sentence. Juhoon wrapped both arms tightly around you before you could even think about moving.
"...Don't..." His voice shook. “...Ever..." He buried his face against your hair. "...Do that again."
You slowly hugged him back. "...I'm sorry..."
He pulled back just enough to look at you.
"...Where did you even go?"
You looked down guiltily before reaching toward your pocket where the tiny pink marshmallow was shoved. "...It fell off."
Juhoon blinked. "...What?"
"...The keychain..." You held it up. "...It unclipped while I was running. So I went back."
"...You WHAT?" James stared.
"...I couldn't leave it!"
Martin slowly pinched the bridge of his nose. "...You almost got, I don’t know, mauled by a demon lady…for a marshmallow?"
"It isn't just a marshmallow!" You looked down at it. "...Jju gave it to me..."
"...I know it was stupid…but..." You smiled sheepishly. "...They belong together. Like you said!"
Without saying another word, Juhoon gently reached down and clipped the tiny pink marshmallow securely back onto your jeans before tugging on it twice to make sure it wouldn't fall again.
"...There. Now it's not going anywhere."
Your eyes met his. "...Thanks."
He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. "...You scared me."
"...I'm sorry."
"...I know." He smiled. "...Just..." He lightly brushed a piece of hair away from your face. "...Stay with me next time, okay? A marshmallow can be replaced."
"...Promise."
"...Good."
"Eugh." Martin dramatically looked away. "...They're doing it again."
James groaned. "...We almost died and yet I’d somehow prefer being back in there."
Keonho laughed tiredly. "I wouldn’t!…I think it's cute."
"...bro no one asked you?" Martin sighed.
Seonghyeon slowly lowered himself onto the pavement beside everyone else, folding both arms behind his head.
"...Honestly..." He stared up at the night sky. "...I'm too exhausted to make fun of them."
"...you’re right honestly," James admitted, flopping onto the concrete beside him. "...My legs stopped working probably…twenty five minutes ago."
"...Mine stopped back in jail," Keonho added before collapsing dramatically onto the ground.
Within seconds everyone was lying there in various states of exhaustion. Nobody cared that the half pavement half dirt road was cold and messy, and no one cared that they were sweaty or that their clothes smelled like seawater. They were alive and that was definitely enough.
♡
Several minutes later...
"...Cut!" The PD's cheerful voice echoed across the now peaceful harbor. "...Great work everyone!"
A chorus of exhausted groans answered him. Staff members finally emerged from every direction, laughing as they collected cameras, microphones, and unclipped the harnesses’.
"...That was unbelievable. The escape at the end was perfect! We genuinely thought she wasn't going to make it."
"...glad there was so much faith placed into me," you muttered.
The manager's van slowly rolled into the parking area before the sliding door opened.
"...Alright," the manager smiled. "...Let's go home."
♡
The ride back couldn't have been more different from the one that brought everyone there. James was asleep before the van had left the parking lot, mouth hanging open against the window, Martin had somehow fallen asleep with both arms crossed, Keonho quietly snored from the seat behind them, and Seonghyeon was already halfway asleep with his hood pulled over his eyes. You on the other hand, sat beside Juhoon while wrapped tightly in one of the blankets the staff had handed out after filming. The warmth was making your eyelids impossibly heavy.
"...You okay?" Juhoon asked quietly.
You nodded sleepily. "...Mhm..."
"...You sure?"
"...Mhm..."
"...You're falling asleep sitting up."
"...No I'm..." A yawn interrupted you. "...Not..."
Juhoon smiled. "...Thought so."
Without even realizing it, your head slowly tipped sideways until it came to rest against his shoulder. Within seconds, you were dead asleep. Juhoon looked down when he felt the weight, and a tiny smile spread across his face. Carefully, so he wouldn't wake you, he pulled the blanket a little higher over your shoulders before gently resting his own head against yours.
"...Goodnight, brave girl."
Outside the window, city lights quietly blurred past. Inside the van, for the first time that entire night, everyone was finally at peace.
And good gosh did it smell like seawater.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: Highkey might be one of my longest fics??? It was so fun to make because writing the dynamics was hilarious. I really hope this is loved and I can’t wait to get another story out for you all! (Again thank you for understanding that I couldn’t put it all in one post!)
Genre: Horror, variety show, established relationship, fluff, comedy
Synopsis: Filming CORTIS' newest SUMBAKKOKJIL episode was supposed to be another chaotic variety show. Unfortunately for you, the production team forgot oneeeee tiny detail: You were utterly terrified of the dark.
Warning(s): Jump scares, mild horror, darkness, suspense, haunted house themes, light language (I realized just now that I never warn this and I’m so sorry)
Word Count: ~11.2k+ 🙂
A/N: Hai!! I just watched the CORTIS Sumbakkokjil 2 episode and I seriously could not stop thinking about what if I wrote something but instead it was the reader that went through the black room instead of Keonho!! I really wanted to see someone else do it, but I thought why not I write it! This is based off of events that happened in the show, but it’s not exactly the same. I hope this idea is cool!! Enjoy! 🤍
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
The van was pretty quiet for a Friday night. No one was particularly tired per se, but every single person inside had noticed the production crew had refused to answer any of their questions tonight.
"...Where are we even going?" Keonho asked for what had to be the eighth time.
The camera director sitting near the front simply smiled in the rearview mirror. "You'll see."
"...I heavily dislike when you say that," Martin muttered.
James leaned toward the window, trying to see through the darkness outside. Endless trees blurred together beneath the headlights.
"...We've been driving for like…ever."
"You've said that what, four times," Seonghyeon replied.
"I've been concerned four times and more."
You sat beside Juhoon near the back of the van, absentmindedly biting the inside of your cheek as you looked between everyone.
"...Maybe it's something we are doing outside."
"It is outside," Martin deadpanned.
"...Thanks."
"I'm here to help."
A laugh rippled through the van before dying almost as quickly as it had appeared. The atmosphere felt kind of…off. Normally the staff teased them for being goofy, but today they barely spoke. Even the cameras filming inside the van seemed like they were just there for effect. You were snapped out of your thoughts as you felt something gently bump against your hand. It was Juhoon's. When you looked over, he was holding something away from your view with a tiny smile.
"...Close your eyes."
"...What?"
"Just trust me."
You laughed. "Jju..."
"Please?"
"...Fine." You covered your eyes dramatically. "I swear if it's a spider-"
"It isn't."
Something soft brushed against your palm.
"You can look."
When you opened your eyes, you found a tiny plush marshmallow keychain resting in your hand. It was pink, and its little stitched smile made your own appear instantly.
"...Jju."
He looked almost embarrassed.
"It originally came attached to another one." He reached into his hoodie pocket before pulling out a second white marshmallow. "The ribbon connected them."
Sure enough, when you turned it to the side a tiny piece of ribbon still poked out from each plush where they'd once been tied together.
"I cut it."
Your expression softened. "...Why?"
He smiled shyly. "So we could each have one."
He lowered his hands and softly pulled your belt loop before clipping the pink marshmallow on. Soon after, he clipped the white one onto his own jeans and he looked up.
"There."
You looked down at the two tiny plushies bouncing beside each other whenever either of you moved.
"...They're matching."
"Mhm."
"They're really cute."
"I thought so."
A comfortable silence settled between you. Then softly, he spoke again.
"They came together."
You looked back up. "...What?"
He scratched the back of his neck. "I figured…they were meant to stay together." He smiled at you. "...Just in a different way."
Your heart practically melted. Suddenly, you leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek. "...Thank you."
He bumped your forehead lightly with his own. "...Always."
From the row in front of you-
"Eugh." James didn't even turn around. "Can you two wait until we're not trapped in a mystery van?"
Seonghyeon snorted. "I was about to say the same thing."
Keonho twisted around in his seat. "...I think it's cute."
Martin looked over the seat. "...I'm surrounded by couples and traitors and disgusting people."
"You don't even have a girlfriend," Keonho replied.
"...Exactly."
Laughter finally filled the van again, and even the staff couldn't hide their smiles this time.
♡
Nearly twenty minutes later, the van slowed to a stop. Once it was in park, the doors slid open and night air immediately rushed inside. One by one, everyone stepped out. The first thing you noticed was the utter silence. There wasn’t any traffic or city lights nearby, but rather distant water gently lapping against old wooden docks. Your stomach twisted.
"...Where in the world are we?"
Rows of abandoned-looking fishing buildings stretched into the darkness, old boats rocked gently against weathered piers, fishing nets hung from rusted hooks, and dim red lights reflected across the water, turning the entire harbor into something almost unreal.
Oh, hell no.
"...This is terrifying already," James whispered.
"I don't even know what we're filming yet," Keonho muttered. "...And I already want to go home."
A staff member finally stepped forward.
"Welcome..." A dramatic pause. "...to SUMBAKKOKJIL 2."
The members immediately erupted in a chorus of groans.
"No."
"Absolutely not."
"You've got to be kidding."
Martin slowly rubbed his face.
"...can I call my mom to pick me up."
"You’re joking right."
"I need her emotional support right now, no judgment."
The PD only smiled wider.
"Tonight's story is based on a Korean urban legend." Nobody liked where this was going, be he continued anyway. "They say if you look into the water before dawn...something will look back."
Silence enveloped them, and Seonghyeon visibly swallowed. "...Can we respectfully not test that theory?"
The staff ignored him.
"You will have 4,444 seconds to escape, and if you fail..." Another smile. "...You'll belong to the water forever."
"...That felt legally threatening," James said quietly.
“Wait, but didn’t I belong to the water when I was a swimmer?” Keonho questioned, lifting his finger.
The PD clapped once, totally ignoring his comment. "Blindfolds."
Immediately, staff members approached, and one by one black blindfolds covered everyone's eyes. The world slowly disappeared, and your heartbeat suddenly sounded much louder than before.
"...Jju?"
"I'm here."
His voice came from somewhere beside you, and his warm fingers found yours, providing a gentle squeeze. Swiftly, they disappeared again.
"Good luck."
You wished he hadn't let go. A second later, you heard footsteps leading everyone in different directions.
The game…had begun.
♡
Heavy and uncomfortable silence surrounded every one of the members. The kind that made you painfully aware of your own breathing. Hands instinctively reached toward the blindfold covering each persons eyes.
"...Can we take these off now?" James called into the darkness, only to be met with no answer. "…Hello?"
Still nothing. Somewhere far away a buoy creaked and water gently slapped against old wooden posts. Then, a single notification.
Ding. Every phone buzzed at once and the message read out loud to them.
PD:
You may now remove your blindfolds.
Almost immediately, everyone reached up and the world slowly came back into focus.
♡
James blinked against the dim lighting. "...What the..."
He stood alone inside what looked like an abandoned seafood processing room. Rusted metal tables sat crooked across the concrete floor, empty plastic crates were stacked against one wall, and old conveyor belts disappeared into complete darkness farther inside the building. Yeah that was not welcoming in the slightest. The only light came from the tiny antenna lights attached to his harness.
"...Why would they put me here of all places?"
His voice echoed, and the fact he could even hear an echo amplified the size of the darkness. He slowly turned in a circle.
"...Guys?" Nothing. "...Awesome."
♡
Martin pulled the blindfold off with one smooth motion, wind immediately brushed through his hair. He frowned.
"...Why am I outside?" He looked around, and then down. Very, very far down. "...Why am I on the roof?"
Below him stretched the entire fishing village. Rows of abandoned buildings, narrow walkways, old docks, and the eerie dark water reflecting deep red lights.
"...That's...actually kind of cool." He sighed. "...Until I have to get down."
♡
Keonho blinked several times before realizing he was standing in the middle of an old second-floor hallway. Every door around him stood half open, and one slowly creaked back and forth.
"...nah…"
He peaked his head out of the room and looked toward the staircase before turning his head the other way in the hallway.
"...Absolutely not."
His phone buzzed and he nearly screamed.
"...IT'S JUST MY PHONE." He whisper-screamed to himself, placing a hand over his chest. "...I'm already losing years off my life and I’m still so young."
♡
Seonghyeon found himself sitting inside one of the narrow fishing rooms with old life jackets hanging from rusty hooks and a broken lantern resting on the floor beside him.
"…most welcome I’ve ever felt."
He slowly stood, and the floor groaned beneath his shoes.
"...Nope." He immediately froze. "...Don't do that."
As if the building had listened, everything became silent again.
♡
Juhoon pulled off his blindfold beside one of the docks. A faded green tent fluttered quietly behind him, and fishing poles leaned against the wooden railing as gentle waves rolled beneath the pier.
"..."
He looked around once…and then twice.
"...Baby?" Only the water answered him, so he rubbed the back of his neck. "...oh gosh she’s probably suffering alone..."
♡
Your fingers hesitated on the blindfold. You already knew what was happening…but you didn't want to see whatever waited on the other side.
"...Okay." Deep breath. "...It's just a show. They can’t seriously do any harm to me."
You slowly lifted the fabric away, only to be met with darkness. You sat inside what appeared to be an old fishing storage room.
Stacks of weathered lobster traps reached almost to the ceiling, fishing nets hung like giant cobwebs about to smother you, and random plastic buckets sat overturned across the floor. Above you, a single light bulb swung gently…BUT it wasn't even turned on.
"...Fuh nah."
You immediately stood, and your harness lights barely illuminated more than a few feet ahead. Every shadow looked like somebody standing there, and it was driving you insane.
"...I hate this."
Your phone buzzed. To cope, you immediately opened the group chat.
Y/N:
Guys.
Three little typing bubbles appeared almost instantly.
Keonho:
I’m sweating so much oh my gosh
Y/N:
:(
James:
TMI btw
Martin:
Very descriptive
Y/N:
It's dark
Martin:
Groundbreaking observation!!!!
You frowned at your screen.
Y/N:
I hate you??
Martin:
Understandable my good sir
Despite everything, you smiled just a little. Hopefully you will get through this…
♡
Juhoon's phone buzzed. He immediately checked it, and seeing your message made him exhale in relief. At least you had your phone? With this knowledge, he decided to text you privately.
Juhoon:
You okay?
You answered almost immediately.
Y/N:
No.
He laughed quietly to himself.
Juhoon:
Stay where you are if you can.
Y/N:
I DON'T KNOW WHERE I AM
"...Right."
♡
Meanwhile, James cautiously stepped into another hallway. Every doorway seemed to lead somewhere darker than the last.
"...Okay."
He slowly pulled out his phone.
James:
Anyone know where they are?
Seonghyeon:
Nope.
Keonho:
I looked out the window? So Second floor??
Martin:
Roof.
Several seconds passed. Then-
James:
why are you on the roof?
Martin:
Fantastic question, I'd also like to know
James couldn't help laughing. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and cautiously rounded another corner. A long corridor stretched ahead, and one light flickered weakly near the end. Just as he took another step...
"...James hyung?"
He froze.
"...Hyeon?"
A familiar head cautiously peeked around the opposite corner. The second Seonghyeon recognized him, his shoulders visibly relaxed.
"...Oh thank God." James laughed. "I've never been happier to see your face."
"Same."
Without another word, the two immediately started walking together. Neither one mentioned it, but both of them walked just a little closer than usual considering they didn’t want to be alone anymore.
"...So..." James looked around the empty hallway before glancing sideways at Seonghyeon. "...Do we pretend we're brave now?"
Seonghyeon scoffed. "Yeah, I was never pretending."
"Oh?"
"I'm very openly terrified."
"...Fair."
The two cautiously started down the hallway together, their harness lights bouncing across cracked concrete walls with every careful step. The building seemed abandoned decades ago, and the strip of rooms they were in seemed to get tighter as they walked. James gently nudged one of the crates nearby with his foot.
"...Think there's anything inside?"
Seonghyeon immediately grabbed the back of his hoodie. "Leave it."
"...Why?"
"Because someone can jump out!”
James considered that.
"...Good point."
And so, they kept moving. Every sound seemed amplified in these corridors. The scrape of their shoes, distant groans of old wood, and water sloshing somewhere outside. Even their own breathing felt too loud!
"...Do you hear that?" James whispered.
"What?"
"...Nothing."
"...what do you mean what."
Both of them instinctively walked a little faster.
♡
Outside, Juhoon carefully stepped off the dock and onto a gravel path leading between several weathered storage buildings. His phone screen illuminated his face, and he looked down to see no new messages.
"...Please be okay..."
He knew you hated darkness. What was funny is you actually enjoyed horror movies and didn’t necessarily get scared often, but it was just the darkness itself that made tonight infinitely worse. He looked toward another building before calling quietly-
"...Baby?" Nothing happened, so he tried again, being more specific. "...Y/N?"
Still no answer. Then slowly he peeped his head around a corner and was met by a void of darkness. Gosh.
"...Jju?"
His head snapped toward the sound. "...Baby?"
A tiny beam of light bounced around the corner before you appeared, walking far quicker than you probably meant to. The second you saw him, your entire posture visibly relaxed.
"...Oh thank God."
Without thinking, you walked straight into him. Juhoon caught you immediately, one arm wrapping around your shoulders.
"...Hey."
"I really hate this."
"I know."
You buried your face against his hoodie for another second before finally pulling back.
"I'm extremely aware of my surroundings right now and that’s unsettling me."
"...Right."
Despite the situation you were in, you laughed. It lasted maybe two seconds before a loud metallic clang echoed somewhere across the harbor, causing both of you to freeze.
"...Let's keep moving."
"Please."
Your hand quietly found the sleeve of his hoodie as you started to walk towards the outside again.
♡
Meanwhile, Martin had finally managed to climb down from the roof using a rusted exterior staircase.
"...Never doing that again."
The stairs creaked dramatically beneath his feet.
"...Actually..."
He took another step. Craaaak.
"...Definitely never doing that again."
He hopped onto the second-floor landing and dusted off his hands before looking down both hallways. Keonho did say he was on a second floor…so maybe it was here?
"...Keonho?" Silence. "...You alive?"
"...Martin hyung?"
His voice sounded strangely close. Martin blinked.
"...Where are you?" A nearby door slowly opened just enough for Keonho's face to peek through. "...Why were you whispering?"
"I don’t want to wake the ghosts."
"...What?"
"I don't know!"
Martin laughed despite himself. "...You're ridiculous."
Keonho hurried over almost immediately. "...We're sticking together."
"I wasn't planning on leaving you."
"Great news." Keonho looked around nervously. "...Because if something starts chasing us..."
Martin sighed.
"...You're sacrificing me first, aren't you?"
"...you got it! I’m just so young, you know?”
Martin rolled his eyes. "I’m what, a year older than you?"
The two continued down the hallway together, shining their harness lights into every room they passed. Most contained nothing alarming. Some old fishing equipment, random broken furniture, stacks of weird buckets- until Martin suddenly stopped.
"...Wait."
"What?"
He pointed into one of the bathrooms, and near the entrance sat a bucket full of water. In it was a creepy, floating doll.
"...That's weird."
Keonho frowned. "...Should we do something?"
"Hell no, I’m leaving."
"...I support leaving."
Neither of them noticed the tiny red recording light hidden high in the corner of the ceiling. The production staff watching from the control room quietly grinned. Everything was unfolding exactly as planned.
♡
The two of them quietly slipped out of the building and into the cool night air. Once they felt the chilly wind, everything seemed bigger. The abandoned fishing village stretched endlessly in every direction with narrow gravel paths wound between rows of weathered storage sheds. Old boats bobbed lazily against the docks and faded red floodlights painted the harbor in an eerie crimson glow. Somewhere across the water, a chain gently clinked against a metal pole.
"...I liked it better when we were inside," Keonho whispered.
Martin looked at him. "...Seriously?"
"...No, I lied. I don’t like it anywhere."
They continued down the path, both slowly sweeping their harness lights over the ground.
"...Do you think everyone else is okay?" Keonho asked.
Martin shrugged. "I mean...James is dramatic, but he's hard to kill."
"...right."
"And Juhoon's probably looking for Y/N."
"...oh 1000%."
Martin slowly opened a creaky door, peeping into the dark room. Once confirming the coast was clear, he opened it fully and walked in with Keonho.
“I think this is one of the rooms that has a connecting door to the water.” Keonho said.
Martin nodded. After finding nothing particularly unusual, he turned around to the door but was stopped by a glowing light.
“Is that a flip phone?” Martin asked, picking it up. “Wait, why is it on?”
Keonho walked up behind him, looking over his shoulder. “Is there anything on it?”
“No, it’s just on…”
“Can you check any apps?”
“No…but I think I’m going leave this here. I can’t seem to find anything.”
Keonho nodded and they both made their way out of the room. Before either of them could say anything else-
"...Hyung?"
Both of them looked up. Seonghyeon stepped around the corner of another building, closely followed by James.
"...Oh!" James visibly relaxed. "There you guys are."
Keonho practically sighed in relief. "...We're finally becoming less separated."
Martin folded his arms. "So far we've discovered a flip phone and one creepy doll..."
"...And absolutely zero exits," Seonghyeon added.
James frowned. "...Creepy doll?"
Keonho nodded enthusiastically. "In a water bucket."
"...You touched it?"
"No!" Martin answered first. "We left it."
The four of them slowly continued walking together, checking around corners and peeking into open sheds as they went. Most were empty, but some were filled with the usual things you’d find at a place like this. Fishing nets, wooden pallets, plastic tubs…but nothing particularly useful. Then-
"...Wait." Seonghyeon suddenly stopped walking. "...Do you guys hear talking?"
Everyone froze. Sure enough, a quiet voice drifted through the darkness.
"...My bag...I need to find my bag..."
The four exchanged uneasy glances before cautiously following the sound around another weathered building. Standing completely alone beneath one of the dim red lights...was a fisherman. His clothes were soaked, his head hung low, and…he wasn't moving.
"...My bag...I need to find my bag..."
Not once did he look at any of them, and that caused James to swallow.
"...Uh..." Nobody volunteered to speak. "...Keonho?"
"...Why me?"
"You're friendly."
"What??" Keonho stared at the others for a long moment before letting out the biggest sigh of his life. "...Okay..."
He carefully stepped forward.
"...Excuse me, sir?" No response. "...Sir?"
The old man slowly lifted his head, causing Keonho to step back. His eyes looked strangely empty beneath the shadow of his hat.
"...Have..." He spoke so quietly they almost couldn't hear him. "...Have you seen my bag?"
Keonho immediately nodded far more confidently than he actually felt.
"...Uh-“ He pointed somewhere completely random, just trying to create more distance. "...We'll help you find it."
The fisherman simply stared. "...Please…have you seen my bag..."
Then his head slowly lowered again. Silence.
"...Let's just go," James whispered.
"No argument here."
Almost as if waiting for them to leave, the four hurried down another gravel path. But what none of them noticed was that the fisherman never once turned to watch them leave.
♡
"...Do you think that was an actor?" Seonghyeon whispered.
"It had to be."
"...Right?"
"I really hope so." Martin rubbed the back of his neck. "...Let's find Juhoon and Y/N before anything else happens."
As if the universe had been listening-
"...Guys?"
A familiar voice echoed from somewhere ahead. It was Juhoon. Everyone immediately looked toward the sound just as two familiar harness lights rounded the corner.
"There you are!" Keonho nearly shouted.
You hurried over beside Juhoon, still lightly holding onto the sleeve of his hoodie without even realizing it. James smiled.
"...Everybody's finally together."
"For now…" Martin muttered.
"...Don't say it like that."
"I'm just being realistic."
Before anyone could continue- RIIIIING. Every conversation stopped.
"..."
"...Did you guys hear that?" you asked quietly.
RIIIIING. This time there was no mistaking it. The sound echoed from one of the nearby fishing rooms, and Martin's eyes slowly widened.
"...The phone." Keonho immediately looked at him. "...The phone…"
"The one we found earlier! It wasn't ringing before…but it is now." Martin finished.
Nobody moved just yet, but the phone rang again. Once, twice, three times…the sound echoed through the silent harbor almost like it was waiting for someone to answer.
RIIIIING. The shrill ringtone seemed louder this time, cutting clean through the silence. Every single one of you jumped. Martin lead everyone back to the room, and sure enough, the old flip phone sitting on the dusty table lit up again, vibrating against the wood.
RIIIIING. Nobody moved when they were all inside. Martin slowly folded his arms.
"...Well, it's ringing," James said.
"Excellent observation."
"...Thank you."
RIIIIING.
The display simply read:
UNKNOWN CALLER
Seonghyeon looked between everyone. "...One of us has to answer it."
Immediately, five heads turned toward Keonho.
"...Why are you all looking at me?"
“You offered to help creepy fishing guy," Martin replied.
"You volunteered me!! I was being NICE."
The ringtone continued echoing through the abandoned room. RIIIIING.
Juhoon quietly leaned closer to you. "...You okay?"
You nodded once. "...Ask me again in like...three business days."
He couldn't help the tiny laugh that escaped him. It was cut off then by the phone ringing again.RIIIIING.
"...Okay, enough." Keonho took one dramatic breath. "Since none of the ADULTS will do it." He looked at the camera attached to his harness. "...I will."
"You are literally just answering a phone," James sighed.
"SAYS THE ONLY ADULT IN THE ROOM WHO WON’T DO IT."
Martin patted him once on the shoulder. "You've got this."
"...No I don't." Very, very slowly, Keonho reached toward the phone.
"...I don't like this." His finger hovered over the green button. "...I seriously don't like this."
"...Keonho."
"I KNOW."
Finally- Click. He lifted the phone to his ear.
"...Hello?"
Nothing responded back. Only static. Fshhhhhhh...
"...Hello?"
The static continued for another few long seconds before a woman's voice suddenly broke through.
"...Please..." She sounded terrified…like she'd been crying for hours. "...Can...can anyone hear me?"
Every member instinctively leaned closer.
"...Yes?" Keonho answered carefully.
"...Please help me..." Her breathing hitched.
"...please...please…”
Your stomach tightened. The voice started to became frantic.
"...PLEASE HELP-"
CLICK. The line went dead and the silence that now enveloped you caused everyone to be still. Even Martin looked genuinely unsettled.
"...I don't…like that," James admitted quietly.
"No kidding," Seonghyeon muttered.
James frowned. "...Where'd he go?"
Everyone instinctively looked back toward the doorway. The fisherman…was gone. The narrow dirt path outside stretched toward the docks exactly as it had a few seconds ago, illuminated only by the weak glow of your harness lights, but this time it was empty.
"...Didn't he just-"
"He was right there," you interrupted quietly.
Juhoon slowly stepped toward the doorway, cautiously peeking outside. "...Sir?"
Only the distant sound of water answered him. A slow splash echoed somewhere beyond the buildings, and Keonho immediately shook his head.
"Nope."
"Nope?"
"Nope."
Martin folded his arms. “So what are you gonna do mister nope?”
"I'm serious!" Keonho whispered. "People don't just disappear!"
"They do if they, you know, walk away."
"...Without footsteps?"
That made everyone pause. None of you had actually heard footsteps. Not on the gravel, not on the wooden docks, nowhere. Seonghyeon slowly rubbed the back of his neck.
"...Guys..." His voice was noticeably quieter now. "...Let's just...keep moving."
Nobody argued, and Martin slipped the abandoned phone into the pocket of his hoodie.
"If this thing rings again..."
"I'm throwing it into the lake," Keonho finished.
"You literally volunteered."
"I didn’t was peer pressured into answering."
"You picked it up?"
"I was manipulated."
James snorted. Suddenly-
DING. The vibration didn't come from Martin's pocket…instead, every phone in the group buzzed at exactly the same time. The group chat wasn't even open, and instead, a message from the PD filled every screen.
MISSION START
Collect the five Dead Pieces hidden throughout the harbor. Burn them at the dock before the timer expires. Failure will result in everyone being eliminated. If even one remains…she will keep looking. Avoid the seeker at all costs.
Time Remaining:
4,444 seconds.
"...Dead Pieces?" Juhoon frowned.
"What the hell is a Dead Piece?" you asked.
"I don't know," Martin replied. "But I have a feeling they are not pleasant."
James slowly looked up. "...Wait who's she?"
As if answering him, adeep horn echoed across the harbor.
BWWWWWWWWWW- The sound rolled over the water, vibrating through the docks beneath your feet. Everyone instinctively turned toward the lake. The water was…shaking. Intensely. Not from wind or waves, but from something underneath disturbing the surface. Ripples spread outward in slow circles. One, two, three, then…a pale hand slowly broke through the black water. Its fingers gripped the edge of one of the wooden docks, and another hand appeared soon after. It was long, thin, and dripping in water. Then, a head appeared. Long black hair clung to its face as the figure slowly dragged itself onto the dock with an awful scraping sound.
Keonho's mouth slowly fell open. "...Guys."
Nobody answered him. Honestly because nobody could. The figure stood, head hung unnaturally low, and water dripping steadily onto the old boards beneath its bare feet.
Drip. Drip. Drip. Then, without lifting its head it spoke.
"...Ready..."
Its voice sounded wet and broken. Like it hadn't spoken in years.
"...or not..."
Slowly, its head tilted upward smile stretched impossibly wide across its face.
"...here I come..."
The figure took one slow step forward. "...James."
It took another step.
"...Martin…Seonghyeon....Keonho...Juhoon," It stopped and its head slowly turned looking directly toward you. "...Y/N."
Your entire body went cold. It was like time stopped entirely and you were paralyzed. James cut off your thoughts by shouting the only thing anyone was thinking.
"RUN!"
Six pairs of shoes hit the gravel at once and the quiet fishing village instantly exploded into chaos.
Someone screamed, "...GO, GO, GO!"
You weren't even sure who had yelled first because everyone started talking over one another.
"THIS WAY!"
"NO, NOT THAT WAY!"
"WHY ARE WE SPLITTING UP?"
"I DON'T KNOW!"
Behind you, thud thud thud. Heavy footsteps echoed across the dock and you didn't dare look back. HELL no you weren’t going to be looking back at that creature. Juhoon's hand found your wrist almost immediately, sensing your panic.
"...Come on!" He pulled you around the corner of one of the storage buildings just as James disappeared into another direction with Keonho close behind him. Martin pointed toward another row of buildings, whisper-screaming-
"I'll go this way!"
"...Hyung!"
"Just GO!"
Within seconds, everyone had scattered.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: sigh…go to the second part because tumblr forbids me from making long posts…
Genre: Fluff, established relationship, humor, light hurt/comfort
Synopsis: Everyone has pet names in a relationship, so what happens when you suddenly called them by their first name?
Warning(s): One broken sentimental item, brief crying, lots of pouting
Word Count: ~4k+ (650+ words each)
A/N: Hai!! I think this will be my first CORTIS ot5 imagine-fic so I hope you really like it! This isn’t necessarily a new idea since I’ve seen this before across multiple fandoms, but this is my take on it! ENJOY!! 🤍🤍
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
James 𐙚₊˚
He calls you: baby, babe
You call him: baby, Jamie
The first time you actually called him his name, he thought you were joking.
"James."
He looked up from where he was loading the dishwasher, a dish towel slung over his shoulder.
"...Yeah?"
You barely looked away from your phone.
"Could you hand me my charger?"
He stared for a second before the corners of his lips twitched upward.
"...Sure."
He walked over, placed the grey charger in your hand, then leaned against the kitchen island with a grin.
"So..."
"So?"
"If we're using government names now..." He dramatically cleared his throat. "Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N."
You blinked.
"...Excuse me?"
He folded his arms proudly.
"I figured we'd be professional today."
A tiny smile tugged at your lips, but you simply shook your head and plugged your phone in.
"...Thanks."
That was it. No eye roll or…teasing him back…or, 'You're ridiculous, Jamie.' You simply walked into the living room.
James frowned.
"...Baby?"
You hummed absentmindedly as you settled onto the couch.
"...Hey." Nothing. "...Y/N?"
Still nothing besides another absentminded hum. The grin slowly disappeared from his face.
"...Okay."
He followed you into the living room, this time much quieter than before. You were scrolling through your phone when the couch dipped beside you.
"...Hey."
You glanced up.
"Hm?"
He reached over and gently took your hand into his.
"...Look at me."
Now you were confused.
"I am."
"No..." He gave your hand a tiny squeeze. "...Really look at me."
You set your phone down.
"...What's wrong?"
His eyebrows knitted together.
"I was about to ask you the same thing."
You tilted your head.
"What do you mean?"
"You called me James."
"...I did."
"You never call me James."
"It's your name?"
"I know it is." He laughed softly, but it sounded nervous more than amused. "But you don't call me that."
You opened your mouth to respond before he quietly continued.
"...I thought you were teasing me…and I was trying to tease you back." He looked down at your intertwined hands. "...Then you didn't…And now I'm thinking I did something."
Your expression softened immediately.
"...Jamie."
He looked back up.
"I don't care if it's something small." His thumb absentmindedly rubbed across your knuckles. "I don't care if I forgot to text you back or left my socks on the floor again."
You couldn't help smiling at that. He doessss do that a lot…
"I just..." He sighed. "...Don't pretend you're okay if you're upset. I'd rather know."
Your heart melted.
"...Baby."
He visibly relaxed just hearing the word.
"I am so sorry. I was actually trying to see what you'd do."
"...What?"
"I wanted to see if you'd notice."
James stared.
"You...experimented on me?"
A laugh escaped you.
"...Kind of."
He dramatically dropped his head onto your shoulder.
"I thought our relationship was ending."
"You did not."
"I did!"
"You are so dramatic."
He peeked up at you.
"...Am I Jamie again?"
You smiled before pressing a kiss into his hair.
"You'll always be Jamie."
"...Good."
He wrapped both arms around your waist, holding you close for another moment before mumbling into your shoulder.
"...Please warn me before conducting scientific studies on my emotions next time."
You burst into laughter.
"I'll try."
"...Promise?"
"I promise."
"...Okay." He smiled against your shoulder. "...Because hearing 'James' from you was genuinely terrifying, I can’t lie."
You laughed again, gently running your fingers through his hair.
"...Don't worry, baby. You're safe."
"...Much better." He closed his eyes with the smallest smile. "...I like being Jamie."
"And I like calling you Jamie."
"...Good. Like I said, I don't think I'd survive another government-name experiment."
You giggled.
"...Noted."
He tilted his head just enough to steal one quick kiss before resting against you again.
"...Love you."
"I love you too, Jamie."
"...Ah."
The smile that spread across his face could've lit up the entire apartment.
♡
Martin 𐙚₊˚
He calls you: princess, babe
You call him: baby, love, Tinnie
Martin was convinced what you said was a figment of his imagination. He was sprawled across the couch, one leg hanging over the armrest while lazily scrolling through his phone. You walked into the living room carrying two mugs of hot chocolate before all hell broke loose from one word-
"Martin?"
His entire universe had just ceased to exist in a split second. Not because he hadn't heard you. He did. But surely...surely you hadn't just called him that.
You set one of the mugs onto the coffee table.
"Martin?"
Still nothing. You frowned.
"...Martin?"
This time, he slowly lowered his phone. Then, he looked over your left shoulder, your right shoulder, behind the couch, under the coffee table, and even toward the hallway.
You blinked.
"...What are you doing?"
"I'm looking for Martin."
"...What?"
"You keep saying his name." He looked around one more time before shrugging dramatically. "I figured he must be around here somewhere."
You stared.
"...Martin."
"Hmm…"
"...That's you."
His eyebrows shot up.
"...Me? I wasn't aware you were talking to me."
You laughed.
"Who else would I be talking to?"
"I don't know." He shrugged innocently. "...Maybe Martin."
You couldn't help smiling.
"...You are Martin."
"I've heard he's a lovely guy."
"...Tinnie."
He immediately looked at you.
"Yes, princess?"
You folded your arms, cocking one eyebrow.
"Aha."
Realization dawned across his face.
"...Oh."
"So you can hear me."
"I can hear you perfectly.”
"Then why weren't you answering?"
He looked genuinely offended.
"...Because you weren't talking to me, duh."
"I literally was."
"You were talking to this…Martin character."
"And?"
"I'm Tinnie."
"...What?"
"I'm babe."
He started counting on his fingers.
"I'm love." Another finger. "I'm pretty boy."
Another.
"I would've even accepted..." He paused dramatically. "...'Hey you.'"
You were already laughing.
"But..." He pointed at himself with both hands. "...Martin?" He gasped softly. "That's my government name."
"It's also..." You giggled. "...Your name."
"It is. But not to you." He folded his arms with a tiny pout. "I earned promotions."
"You promoted yourself?"
"Yes sir.”
You shook your head, still smiling.
"...insane."
"So I've been told."
You picked up your mug before sitting beside him on the couch.
"...Martin."
He deliberately looked toward the kitchen.
"Hm."
"...Martin."
He looked behind the television.
"...We should really find that guy."
You bumped his shoulder with yours, softly smiling.
"...Tinnie."
He immediately turned back.
"Yes?"
"You are so dramatic."
"I prefer expressive."
"Mhm. Very expressive."
You rolled your eyes affectionately before taking a sip of your hot chocolate. A comfortable silence settled between you before Martin quietly stole the candy cane from your mug.
You watched him do it.
"...Really?"
"What?"
"You literally have your own."
"I wanted yours."
"...Why?"
"Looked tastier."
You snorted.
"You make no sense."
"I know."
Another minute passed. You absentmindedly reached for the TV remote.
"...Martin?"
This time, he didn't joke. No looking around the room and no pretending not to hear you. Simply, he just stared at the television.
"...Tinnie?"
No response came out of him, and you frowned.
"...Hey babe." He quietly rested his elbows on his knees. "...Did I do something?"
Your hand froze around the remote.
"What?"
He still wasn't looking at you.
"I know I joke a lot. Probably too much..." His voice had become much quieter. "But...why am I Martin today?"
You blinked.
"What do you mean?"
"You haven't called me baby much. Or love…or Tinnie." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I know it's just a name…but..." He gave the smallest shrug. "...It feels like I got demoted."
Your heart immediately melted.
"Oh..."
He finally looked over, and slowly you set your mug down without another word before scooting across the couch until your knees bumped his.
"...Love."
His head lifted almost instantly.
"...Yeah?"
The tiniest smile appeared. You reached over and gently held both of his hands.
"I wanted to see what you'd do."
"Wait, like a prank?"
"...Maybe."
He let out the most dramatic sigh imaginable before letting his head fall on the back of the couch.
"I can't believe this."
"I'm sorry."
"You know..." His voice softened. "...I was fully committed to the bit."
"I noticed."
"I was doing great."
"You were."
"...Then you kept saying Martin…and it felt weird."
He wrapped both arms around your waist.
"It felt weird for me too." You smiled, gently tucking some hair behind his ears. "...I'm sorry, Tinnie."
He hummed happily.
"Music to my ears.” He sat up abruptly, looking straight at you. You know..."
"What?"
"I like being Tinnie. And I especially like being Tinnie when you say it. Keonho says it sometimes and it gets weird."
You leaned over and kissed the top of his head, laughing lightly at the mention of Keonho.
"Good because I don't think I could ever stop. Martin sounds weird now."
He looked up at you with the biggest grin.
"...Promise?"
"I promise."
He smiled so brightly before silence fell over you. Then-
"...Also..."
"Hm?"
"If you ever call me Martin again..." He pointed dramatically toward the apartment door. "...the hallways being checked first."
You laughed so hard you nearly spilled your hot chocolate.
"...Looking for Martin?"
He nodded very seriously.
"Exactly. Because he definitely doesn't live here."
"And who does?"
He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you impossibly closer.
"...Just your Tinnie."
♡
Juhoon 𐙚₊˚
He calls you: sweet girl, baby, my love
You call him: baby, Jju, Juju, pretty boy
It started on a lazy Sunday. Rain tapped against the apartment windows while Tangled played quietly in the background. You were curled up on one end of the couch with a blanket over your legs, halfway through folding laundry, and Juhoon was sitting on the floor between your knees, absentmindedly organizing a box of cables he'd insisted he'd "sort tomorrow" for nearly three weeks.
The room was just…comfortably quiet.
"...Juhoon."
He hummed without looking up.
"Could you hand me that hoodie?"
He reached over immediately, picked up the hoodie from beside him, and handed it to you without a second thought.
"Thank you."
"Mhm."
He went right back to untangling another charger. It wasn't until almost a full minute later that his hands stopped moving. He slowly blinked before looking up.
"...What?"
You looked over.
"Hm?"
"You..." He frowned ever so slightly. "...You called me Juhoon."
"I did."
"...Oh."
That was all he said. He simply nodded once before looking back down at the messy cords in his lap. You waited for a joke to arise…but nothing happened. The movie continued playing, the rain continued falling, and Juhoon quietly continued sorting cables.
About twenty minutes later, you stood up.
"I'm gonna make some tea."
He immediately stood too.
"I'll help."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
He followed you into the kitchen anyway. As you filled the kettle, he silently reached into the cabinet for your favorite mug before grabbing his own. You smiled.
"...Thank you."
"Mhm."
"...Juhoon?"
He turned around immediately.
"...Yeah?"
"Could you grab the honey?"
"...Of course."
Again. No complaint from him, and he just had that same soft voice. By now, though…his smile had disappeared.
The rest of the afternoon felt different. Every time you asked him for something-
"Juhoon, could you pass me the remote?"
"Juhoon, do you know where my charger is?"
"Juhoon?"
-he answered immediately. Every single time. But the usual,
"Anything for you, sweet girl."
Or,
"Coming, Juju service reporting for duty."
Never came.
That evening, you wandered into the bedroom after finishing your skincare routine. The lamp on Juhoon's nightstand was already on, and he was sitting against the headboard reading a book. Or…trying to. He'd been staring at the same page for several minutes.
You climbed onto the bed beside him.
"...Jju?"
His head lifted with wide eyes so quickly it almost made you laugh.
"...Yeah?"
There it was. The tiny bit of hope in his eyes. You smiled softly.
"...Can you scoot over?"
He immediately shifted to make room for you. The second you settled beside him, he instinctively reached for your hand. Before he could grab it, he hesitated. His fingers hovered for just a moment before quietly pulling back into his lap instead. Your heart sank.
"...Baby." His eyes met yours again. "...Can I ask you something?"
"Always."
He closed the book and set it on the nightstand.
"...Are you upset with me?"
The question was so gentle it almost broke your heart.
"What?"
"I've just been thinking..." He looked down at his hands. "...You only call me Juhoon when you're like…I don’t know…being serious. Or when something's wrong."
You hadn't even realized that. Thinking back…he was right.
If he'd forgotten his wallet? "Juhoon." If you were trying to wake him up because he'd overslept? "Juhoon." If you were worried? "Juhoon."
"...So I kept wondering..." He gave the smallest shrug. "...What I did."
You stared at him for a second before your entire expression softened.
"Oh, Jju..."
His shoulders visibly relaxed just hearing the nickname.
"I was worried."
"I know." You moved closer until your knees brushed his. "I wasn't mad. I promise."
He nodded.
"I figured, but..." A tiny laugh escaped him. "...I couldn't stop thinking about it. I kept replaying today trying to figure out where I'd messed up."
"You didn't."
"I know that now." He smiled sheepishly, huffing out a breath of air. "...Doesn't stop my brain."
You reached over and gently tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have worried you."
"You don't have to apologize."
"I do."
"No." He shook his head. "You didn't realize."
There was a beat of silence for a while. Then, very quietly…
"...Can I have a hug?"
You laughed softly.
"You never have to ask."
The second your arms opened, he melted into them without another word. He buried his face against your shoulder, wrapping both arms around your waist as though he'd been holding himself back all afternoon.
"...I missed being Jju."
You smiled, gently rubbing slow circles across his back.
"It wasn't even a day."
"I knowww but..." His voice was muffled against your shirt. "...It felt like a long day."
You kissed the side of his head.
"...My pretty boy."
He smiled.
"My baby."
His grip tightened just a little. You stayed like that for a while as the rain continued tapping against the windows, the forgotten TV still playing somewhere in the living room. Eventually, you felt him nuzzle a little closer into your neck.
"...Can I ask one more thing?"
"Anything."
"...Don't call me Juhoon unless you really have to…please."
You couldn't help smiling.
"Why?"
He looked up at you with the tiniest pout.
"...Because when you call me Jju...it feels…warmer."
♡
Seonghyeon 𐙚₊˚
He calls you: darling, love, babe
You call him: Hyeon, baby
The vase shattered the second it hit the floor, and the sound made both of you freeze.
"..."
"..."
Seonghyeon stared at the broken ceramic scattered across the kitchen tiles before slowly looking back at you.
"...Oh."
You closed your eyes.
"...Please tell me that wasn't-"
"I…it…was."
He already knew. It was the small hand-painted vase your grandmother had made in a ceramics class and given you years ago. Nothing outrageously expensive, but obviously irreplaceable.
"I'm so sorry."
He immediately crouched down, instinctively reaching for the larger pieces.
"Don't-"
A sharp hiss escaped him.
"...Ow."
You looked over just in time to see a thin line of red forming across his fingertip. You pressed your eyes shut as you let out a long sigh.
"...Seonghyeon."
He looked up.
"I'm fine."
"Stop picking it up."
"But-"
"I said stop."
He quietly nodded, pulling his hand back. The apartment fell silent, and you grabbed the broom and dustpan, carefully sweeping up the broken pieces while he stood there awkwardly, clearly wanting to help but not wanting to make things worse.
"...I'm really sorry."
"I know."
That was all you could manage at the moment. But the rest of the following afternoon felt…off. You weren’t furious, but rather sad. Because every time you looked at the empty spot on the shelf, your chest tightened a little. Seonghyeon noticed that too, and it hurt him that he couldn’t do anything.
He tried offering to cook dinner, but you thanked him. He also offered to wash the dishes, and you thanked him. He even asked if you wanted to watch a movie, but you just said-
"...Maybe later."
And every single time it was, "Thanks, Seonghyeon." Not, “Thanks, Hyeon."
By the evening, your bedroom door had been closed for a while. You weren't trying to lock him out, but honestly you just wanted a little while to yourself. A few minutes later...
Knock. Knock.
"...Come in."
The door opened just enough for him to peek inside.
"...Hi."
You looked up from your book.
"Hi."
He stepped in carefully, carrying two paper shopping bags.
"...I know I can't replace it." He set one bag on the bed. "But...I found a little pottery shop downtown."
Inside was a tiny ceramic vase painted with little blue flowers.
"But..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I ordered another custom one online too. It won't be here for a few weeks…and I know it still won't be that one."
Your eyes widened.
"...Hyeon..."
"I also bought your favorite pastries." He lifted the second bag slightly. "And flowers. Which I realized was kind of ironic."
A tiny laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and he smiled hopefully.
"You laughed."
You set the book aside.
"Baby..."
The second the nickname left your mouth, his shoulders dropped in relief.
"...that sounds so much better."
You frowned.
"What?"
"I thought..." He looked down at the floor. "...I thought maybe you were still really mad."
"I was upset."
"Rightfully so, and I’m sorry. But every time you called me Seonghyeon..." He smiled sheepishly. "...I figured I was done for."
Your heart melted.
"Oh, baby..." You stood up and walked over to him. "I wasn't entirely mad because of the vase."
He blinked.
"I was mad because you tried picking up broken ceramic with your bare hands.nThat was kind of dumb."
"...Very."
You gently took his injured hand into yours, inspecting the small bandage he'd wrapped around it earlier.
"...You could've really hurt yourself."
"I know."
"And the vase..." You sighed softly. "...It meant a lot to me."
"I know. I'm really sorry, darling."
The apology was so quiet it almost stung. You looked up at him before wrapping your arms around his waist, and he hugged you back immediately.
"...I ordered another one."
"Really?"
"And I'll never touch your shelves again."
You laughed into his hoodie.
"I don't think that's necessary."
"...Maybe just supervise me."
"I think that's a better plan."
He rested his chin lightly on top of your head.
"...Can I finally be Hyeon again?"
You smiled.
"You never stopped being Hyeon."
"...awesome." He let out the tiniest sigh. “Because hearing my full name from you all afternoon was punishment enough."
♡
Keonho 𐙚₊˚
He calls you: baby, princess, love
You call him: pretty boy, baby
It started before breakfast. You usually call him pretty boy in the mornings - you know, to tease him - but this morning, you just smiled innocently.
"Morning, Keonho."
He looked up from the frying pan.
"...Hm?"
"Can you hand me my plate?"
He nodded, picking it up.
"...Here."
A few seconds passed.
"...Did you just call me Keonho?"
"Mhm."
"...Oh.” He smiled anyway, turning around with the finished food. "...Here you go."
Later on at lunchtime, he'd started thinking hard. Maybe he'd forgotten something. Your anniversary? No, he’d rather die than do that. A favorite snack you’d asked for? It can’t be…he already had it in the pantry. Wait, folding laundry? No, that was done. Dishes? Done too…
So...why was he suddenly Keonho?
Later that afternoon, he found you folding blankets in the living room. Without saying a word, he walked over and started helping.
You smiled politely.
"Thanks, Keonho."
There it was again! He looked down at the blanket in his hands, scrunching it a bit.
"...You're welcome."
An hour later, he knocked softly on your office door.
"Can I come in?"
"Yeah."
He peeked inside.
"...I was gonna go get bubble tea." He smiled hopefully. "Wanna come with me?"
"I'm okay."
"Okay." He nodded. "...I'll bring you something back."
"Thanks, Keonho."
His smile faltered.
"...Of course."
By dinner, he'd run out of ideas. He washed the dishes before you could, folded the towels, vacuumed the apartment, and even watered the little, almost dead plant you'd both forgotten about for nearly a week. But nothing changed.
Later that night, you were curled up on the couch scrolling through your phone while a tv show played quietly in the background. You hadn't noticed that Keonho had randomly disappeared almost twenty minutes ago until you looked up and saw nothing.
"...Huh." You stood up. "Keonho?"
Silence. You cocked your head to the side and began wandering down the hallway.
Once reaching the end, you saw that the bedroom door was almost closed.
"...Baby?"
No response was heard, so you gently pushed the door open to find Keonho was sitting on the edge of the bed facing the window. His elbows rested on his knees, his head hung low, but for a second you thought he was just tired. As you walked more into the room, that’s when you saw it. A tear slipped from the end of his nose before landing on his sweatpants. Then another followed.
He quickly wiped at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie, overwhelmed with the amount of tears.
"...Hey."
His shoulders jumped as he looked up immediately.
"Oh." He smiled…or, tried to. "...Hi."
Your heart dropped.
"Baby..." You crossed the room without thinking and knelt in front of him. "...What's wrong?"
He shook his head, trying to form something close to a smile.
"Nothing."
"...Keonho."
That was all it took. Another tear escaped before he could stop it.
"I don't know." His voice cracked ever so slightly. "I don't know what I did."
You stared.
"What?"
"I've been trying all day." He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "I cleaned, I made breakfast, I got you your favorite bubble tea, and I even watered the plant..." A watery laugh escaped him. "...I hate watering the plant."
Despite everything, you almost smiled.
"I just..." He looked down at his hands. "...this sounds so childish and…weird but…you…” He paused, lowering his voice from embarrassment. “…you haven't called me pretty boy once today. Or baby. Or anything."
He swallowed hard.
"...Just...Keonho."
Your chest tightened.
"I kept thinking..." His words came slowly now. "...Maybe if I figured out what I did, you'd call me that again."
"Oh, pretty boy..."
His head lifted the second he heard it.
"...Yeah?"
You immediately wrapped both arms around him.
"I'm so sorry. I wasn't trying to make you cry."
"I know." He hugged you back instantly, burying his face against your shoulder. "I know you weren't."
His voice came out small.
"...I just missed hearing it."
You gently rubbed his back.
"It felt like..." He laughed weakly through another tear. "...Like some punishment."
You smiled sadly and leaned back just enough to cup his face while caressing his cheek. Slowly, you leaned in and kissed his forehead.
"...Can I ask something?" He suddenly said, looking into your eyes.
"Anything."
"...Can you call me pretty boy again? I like hearing it."
You smiled, pressing a kiss into his hair.
"My pretty boy."
His arms tightened around you immediately.
"...Again."
You laughed softly.
"My pretty boy."
A tiny smile appeared.
"...Again."
"My pretty boy."
"...Again."
You couldn't help giggling now.
"My pretty, sweet, adorable boy."
He finally looked up with red eyes and the smallest pout.
"...Better."
You brushed one last tear from beneath his eye before he reached for your hand as the two of you headed back toward the living room.
"...Also..."
"Hm?"
"...Next time you're mad at me..." He squeezed your fingers gently. "...Just tell me. Don't make me solve a mystery."
You laughed.
"Deal."
"...Deal."
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: This became very long and I’m so sorry I got carried away. 😭 I’m not sure if they sound too similar or sound boring but this was my first try and something like this so I’ll work on it!! THANK YOU FOR READING!!! 🤍
Genre: Fluff, slow burn, romantic comedy, meet cute, featured Ahyeon of BABYMONSTER
Synopsis: After finding a stranger's wallet at a baseball game, James returns it to the place she works at. What starts as one good deed slowly turns into a Saturday tradition that makes it harder for him not to fall for her.
Warning(s): Tooth-rotting fluff oh my gosh, secondhand embarrassment, mentions of marine life, Martin being the loudest wingman imaginable holyyyy
Word Count: ~6.4k+
A/N: Hai!! Another idea I had and decided to work on asap. If y’all are wondering why I’m producing so many fics right now is that I literally have been free all week and I write during the day and post at night (+ I’ve had a LOTTTT of motivation so I’m glad I could translate that into stories for you guys). ENJOY!!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
"WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING?!"
James nearly dropped the mug he'd been washing as the apartment door burst open with enough force to rattle the picture frames hanging in the hallway. Keonho stood in the doorway, chest heaving dramatically. Suddenly, his arm shot into the air.
"I GOT THEM!"
Martin looked up from the couch, entirely unimpressed.
"...Congratulations?"
Juhoon poked his head out from the kitchen, spoon still in his mouth.
"What'd you get?"
Keonho grinned so wide it was honestly a little concerning.
"The tickets!"
"..."
"...we visiting Willy Wonka or something?" James asked.
"What- no! The baseball tickets!" Keonho triumphantly fanned five pieces of paper in front of him like he'd just won the lottery. "I snagged them before they sold out!"
Martin leaned back against the couch.
"...You're acting like you just found buried treasure."
"They were half off!"
"So...you spent less money."
"Exactly!"
Seonghyeon wandered out of his room at the sound of all the yelling, blinking sleepily.
"Who's dying?"
"No one," Martin answered. "Keonho just discovered discounts."
"I DID NOT DISCOVER-"
"You would've thought someone died."
Keonho gasped dramatically.
"You guys don't appreciate a good deal."
Juhoon finally plucked one of the tickets from Keonho's hand.
"...Wait." His eyes widened ever so slightly. "These are actually really good seats."
Keonho immediately slapped his back.
"THANK YOU."
Juhoon winced, grabbing his shoulder.
"How much were they?"
Keonho proudly announced the price to be $25 per ticket, and the apartment fell silent.
Martin slowly turned toward him.
"...Okay. That is a good deal."
"I KNOW!"
♡
By Saturday afternoon, the six of them were squeezed shoulder-to-shoulder into their row at the stadium. The entire place buzzed with excitement. Kids waving foam fingers, vendors weaving through the aisles, and the smell of popcorn, hot dogs, and freshly grilled burgers drifting through the warm summer air.
James settled into his seat, adjusting the brim of his cap as the players jogged onto the field. Keonho leaned over.
"I told you these seats were worth it."
"You've said that twelve times."
"And I'll say it thirteen more times."
♡
About halfway through the second inning, Juhoon stood.
"I'm getting snacks."
Martin didn't even look away from the field.
"Get me popcorn."
"Ice cream," Seonghyeon added.
James reached into his pocket and handed him a few bills.
"Whatever's fastest."
Juhoon nodded before disappearing into the crowd.
♡
The concession lines were predictably long. Juhoon sighed quietly before joining the shortest one he could find. A girl stood just ahead of him, wearing a faded navy T-shirt with a little cartoon sea turtle stretched across the front. The turtle wore a tiny snorkel, and Juhoon smiled to himself.
"...I like your shirt."
She glanced over her shoulder before looking down at it.
"Oh!" A shy smile spread across her face. "Thank you."
"It's cute. I like turtles."
"I bought it at work."
"You work with turtles?"
She laughed softly.
"Not exactly."
Before she could explain further, the cashier called her forward. She stepped up to order, and once finished, she turned back around for a moment.
"What about you?"
"Hm?"
"You said you liked turtles."
"Oh." Juhoon's face brightened. "I actually have one."
Her eyes widened.
"You do?"
"Mhm. His name's Choco."
She smiled so brightly it caught him off guard.
"...That's adorable."
"I think so too."
The cashier called her name. She accepted her tray before giving him one last smile.
"Well...I hope Choco's doing well."
"He is."
She laughed.
"I'm glad."
Then she disappeared into the sea of baseball fans, and Juhoon found himself smiling as he stepped up to order.
♡
The game ended just after sunset. The crowd slowly poured toward the exits, conversations of the game and other topics echoing throughout the stadium.
James lingered behind the others for a moment while everyone shuffled out of the row. But- That's when he noticed it. A black and dark red leather wallet tucked beneath the seat in front of him.
"...Huh." He crouched to pick it up. "Someone's gonna have a rough night."
Martin glanced over.
"What is it?"
"Wallet."
"You gonna turn it in?"
"I probably should."
James flipped it open just enough to find some form of identification, telling himself he wasn't interested in anything else. Just enough information to figure out who it belonged to.
A clear plastic badge sat in the first transparent pocket. A smiling employee photo, your name, and beneath it...
GREENGREEN Harbor Aquarium
James blinked.
"...An aquarium?"
The little logo of a penguin wearing a blue scarf smiled back at him from the corner of the badge. He closed the wallet carefully.
"...Guess I know where this belongs."
♡
The drive home was essentially louder than the game itself. Keonho was still talking about a questionable strike call, Martin insisted the umpire needed glasses, and Juhoon somehow turned the conversation into talking about how soft the soft pretzel was. Seonghyeon? Oh, he was sleeping.
James sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly turning the leather wallet over in his hands.
"You gonna turn it in tomorrow?" Juhoon asked from the driver's seat.
James nodded.
"It has her work badge inside. So...I'll just stop by after work."
Martin glanced over.
"...That's nice of you."
"It'd suck losing your wallet."
Everyone quietly agreed. James slid it carefully into the front pocket of his backpack. Hopefully tomorrow…someone's day would get a little less stressful.
♡
The next morning...you were already running late.
"...Seriously?" You patted every pocket of your bag before stopping in the middle of your apartment. "...No."
You checked again. Front pocket, back pocket, little zipper compartment, but nothing.
"...No, no, no..."
Your heart immediately sank. You dumped the contents of your purse across the kitchen table. Lip tint, headphones, a folded receipt, hand sanitizer, pens, everything except...
"...My wallet." You squeezed your eyes shut. "Please tell me I left it at work..."
Deep down...you already knew you hadn't.
♡
GREENGREEN Harbor Aquarium employees entered through a side entrance tucked beside the main building. Normally, you would've tapped your employee badge against the scanner.
Beep.
The door would've unlocked. Simple right. Today…you just stared at the card reader.
"...Right."
No wallet, no badge, no way in. A familiar voice called from behind you.
"Morning!"
You turned.
"Ahyeon!"
She slowed to a stop beside you.
"...You okay?"
You gave an awkward little laugh.
"I, um...I think I lost my wallet."
Her eyebrows shot up.
"...Everything was in there."
"My badge too."
"Oh no."
You rubbed the back of your neck.
"Would you mind letting me in?"
"Of course."
Ahyeon tapped her own badge against the scanner.
Beep.
The door clicked open. As you both stepped inside, she glanced over.
"Have you frozen your cards yet?"
"Not yet."
"I'm going to during my lunch break if it doesn't turn up."
"I really hope somebody honest finds it."
You smiled weakly.
"...Me too."
♡
About an hour later, you'd managed to distract yourself by helping prepare the morning penguin presentation. Buckets of fish, cleaning supplies, and your clipboard. Everything felt normal. Almost…at least. Every few minutes, your hand still instinctively reached for a wallet that wasn't there.
♡
Meanwhile, James pulled into the aquarium parking lot with Juhoon in the passenger seat. He had claimed that, “It would look more natural if he came with someone rather than looking for a girl solo.” His backpack sat in the back seat with the wallet safely tucked inside as he looked toward the entrance.
"...Okay." He took a deep breath. "You are returning a wallet. That's all. You are not weird."
Juhoon looked up from his phone and stared at James.
"...Hopefully."
He grabbed his backpack and stepped out of the car before heading toward the entrance.
♡
The automatic doors slid open with a soft whoosh as James and Juhoon stepped into GREENGREEN Harbor Aquarium. Cool air immediately replaced the summer heat outside, and children darted across the lobby pointing excitedly toward colorful signs hanging from the ceiling.
"Sharks This Way!"
"Touch Pool!"
"Penguin Cove!"
James adjusted the strap of his backpack.
"...Okay."
He could do this. Return the wallet, say goodbye, go home. Simple.
"...Probably."
A woman wearing a blue aquarium polo smiled from behind the information desk.
"Good morning! Welcome to GREENGREEN Harbor Aquarium!"
James smiled politely.
"Hi. I actually found one of your employee's wallets yesterday."
"Oh!" She leaned forward slightly. "That's wonderful!"
"I was hoping to make sure it got back to the right person."
"Of course." She nodded. "She actually told me to look out for someone returning it, so let me go grab her."
Before James could even say thank you, she'd disappeared through the staff door. He swallowed.
"...Well." Juhoon leaned casually against the nearby railing. "...You look nervous."
"I do not."
"You've been standing like saluting your commander for the past minute."
"I'm just..." James quietly adjusted the strap on his backpack, unlocking his knees. "...Standing."
"Mhm…and you've adjusted that backpack a lot."
"...It's heavy."
"There's like a wallet and your headphones in it."
"...Wallets can be heavy."
Juhoon looked at him for a long moment.
"...Sure."
♡
Behind the staff door, you were halfway through organizing buckets of fish when another employee poked her head into the room.
"Y/N?"
You looked up.
"Yeah?"
"Someone's here asking for you."
You frowned slightly.
"...Me?"
"He said he found your wallet."
Everything in your hands froze.
"...He what?"
♡
James heard the staff door open and he instinctively looked up. You stepped into the lobby wearing your aquarium uniform, your employee radio clipped to your waistband and your hair pulled back neatly for work.
The moment your eyes landed on him, recognition flickered across your face.
"...Oh." You tilted your head ever so slightly. "...You're from the baseball game."
James blinked.
"...You remember me?"
You smiled.
"You were sitting a few rows behind me. I remember because I looked back and your friend kept cheering louder than everyone else."
From beside him, Juhoon quietly muttered-
"...Keonho. Definitely Keonho."
James couldn't help laughing.
"...Yeah. That was him."
Your eyes drifted down toward the backpack hanging from his shoulder.
"She said...you found my wallet?"
James immediately nodded.
"I did."
He carefully unzipped the front pocket and pulled it out. The second you saw the familiar black and dark red leather, you let out the biggest sigh of relief.
"Oh my gosh...I was hoping somebody honest found it. I almost had to freeze all my cards."
James held it out, but then hesitated.
"...Actually..." He winced. "I'm really sorry. I just...I should probably make sure it's actually yours first."
You blinked once. Then nodded.
"...That's fair."
James visibly relaxed.
"Could you tell me your full name?"
“Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N.”
It matched the employee badge perfectly.
"And..." He glanced down at the closed wallet. "Could you tell me one thing inside that isn't obvious?"
You thought for a second.
"...There's a little turtle keychain tucked inside the coin pocket."
James carefully opened the wallet just enough to peek inside. Sure enough, a tiny green turtle rested exactly where you'd said it would. He smiled.
"...Perfect."
This time, he placed the wallet into your waiting hands, and you accepted it almost immediately, opening it to make sure everything was still there. Driver's license, bank cards, employee badge, cash…everything was exactly where you'd left it. The tension that had been sitting on your shoulders since that morning seemed to melt away all at once.
"...Thank you." Your voice came out softer than before. "Seriously. You have no idea how much stress you just saved me."
James rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed by all the gratitude.
"It really wasn't a big deal."
"It kind of was." You laughed quietly. "I had to borrow my friend Ahyeon's badge just to get into work today."
James smiled.
"...I'm glad I got here before you had to cancel everything."
Before either of you could continue, your eyes drifted past James.
"...Wait." A smile spread across your face. "Turtle dad."
Juhoon looked up in surprise before breaking into a grin.
"You remembered."
"Of course I did." You laughed. "How's Choco?"
"Still judging everyone. I'm pretty sure he crawls out of his enclosure when I’m not there."
You giggled.
"I'm glad he's doing well."
James stood there quietly, watching the exchange. It only lasted a few seconds, and it was completely innocent, but it was so…natural. You even remembered his name. Well...not his actual name. His turtle's name.
Somehow that almost felt worse than if you remembered HIS name.
Your radio crackled against your hip.
"Penguin presentation begins in five minutes."
Your eyes widened.
"Oh!" You glanced toward the hallway before looking back at the two of them. "I'm sorry- I have to head over."
Then, after a tiny pause, you smiled.
"...Actually...If you guys already made the trip out here, I'm leading the penguin presentation. If you'd like, you're more than welcome to come."
James answered almost immediately.
"We'd love to." He blinked. “…I mean...if that's okay."
A small laugh escaped you.
"I'll save you guys a spot."
With one last smile, you jogged down the hallway toward Penguin Cove. The second you disappeared around the corner, James let out a breath he was holding and slowly turned toward Juhoon.
"...'Turtle dad?'"
Juhoon shrugged.
"I told you. We talked at the baseball game." He paused. “...For thirty seconds."
James folded his arms.
"...She remembered."
"I complimented her shirt, and I told her about Choco."
James looked suspiciously thoughtful.
"...She knows your turtle's name?"
Juhoon laughed.
"...Are you jealous?"
James immediately looked away.
"...No." A pause. "...Maybe a little."
Juhoon grinned.
"I knew it."
He clapped James gently on the shoulder.
"C'mon. Let's go learn about penguins."
James sighed dramatically as they started walking. Somehow, returning a wallet had become significantly more complicated than he'd expected.
♡
Penguin Cove seemed like it was the place everyone in the world wanted to be today. It was even busier than the aquarium lobby! Children crowded against the glass, tiny hands pressed against it as sleek black-and-white penguins waddled across the rocks before diving effortlessly into the bright blue water.
James and Juhoon found a spot near the back of the small crowd.
"You actually came."
James glanced over. You had walked over, adjusting a small microphone to your uniform after putting a laminated information card beneath your arm.
"I wasn't sure if you would."
James smiled.
"...Well. You invited us."
"I did." A tiny smile tugged at your lips. "I'm glad."
Before either of them could say anything else, another family approached with two excited children. You immediately slipped into work mode, backing up before turning your microphone on.
"Hi, everyone!" Your voice carried effortlessly across the exhibit. "Welcome to today's penguin presentation!"
The chatter slowly settled, and even the younger kids seemed captivated. James folded his arms loosely, leaning against the railing.
"So..." You gestured toward one of the penguins hopping carefully between the rocks. "Let's start with a question."
"Does anyone know how penguins find their family in colonies with thousands of other penguins?"
A little girl shot her hand into the air.
"They smell each other?"
A few adults chuckled. You smiled warmly.
"That's a really awesome guess. But actually…penguins recognize each other by their voices." You pointed toward the colony. "Each penguin has a unique call. So even in a huge crowd, parents, chicks, and mates can recognize one another just by listening."
A chorus of tiny "whoas" rippled through the audience. James smiled to himself.
"...That's kind of amazing."
Juhoon looked at James before leaning over just enough to whisper-
"I don't think you've looked at a single penguin."
James blinked.
"What?"
"You've been watching her."
"No."
"You have."
"I've been..." James glanced toward the exhibit. "...Listening."
"Mhm."
"To the penguin facts."
"Not the penguin lady?"
James opened his mouth, and then closed it.
"...Both."
Juhoon grinned.
"I knew it."
The presentation continued with questions from curious children. One little boy asked whether penguins had knees, and another wanted to know if they got cold and had to wear jackets. You answered each one patiently, kneeling to the children's eye level whenever you could.
James found himself smiling more than once. Not because of the penguins…even if he tried telling Juhoon it was…but because every time a child asked a question you looked genuinely excited to answer it.
♡
"...And that's all for today!" You clapped your hands together with a bright smile. "Thank you, everyone, for coming and enjoy the rest of your day at GREENGREEN Harbor Aquarium!"
The crowd slowly began to disperse, and parents thanked you as children waved goodbye. Once the last family wandered off toward the jellyfish exhibit, you finally looked back toward James and Juhoon.
"So..." You smiled. "What'd you think?"
James answered almost immediately.
"I didn't know penguins could recognize each other's voices."
Your eyes lit up.
"I know! I think that's one of my favorite facts."
Juhoon folded his arms.
"I liked the part where one of them belly-flopped into the water."
You laughed.
"...That's also a good part."
A comfortable silence settled between the three of you. Then, you glanced at the clock hanging above the exhibit entrance.
"Oh. My lunch break starts in a few minutes." You looked back at James. "As a thank you…can I buy you guys lunch?"
James shook his head almost instantly.
"You don't have to."
"I know, but I'd like to."
He hesitated.
"...Well...if you're sure."
"I'm sure." Your smile softened. "Meet me in the food court?"
"We'll save you a table."
♡
As you disappeared through another staff door, Juhoon slowly turned toward James.
"...So."
James already knew that tone.
"...What."
"You smiled quite a lot."
"I smile."
"You smiled differently."
"...There's different kinds of smiles?"
"Hell yes?"
James sighed dramatically.
"I returned a wallet."
"Mhm."
"I learned a penguin fact."
"Mhm."
"And now she's buying me lunch because she's grateful."
Juhoon nodded.
"Correct."
"..."
"...You're in trouble."
James frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Juhoon just smiled.
"...You'll figure it out. I can already smell it."
♡
"So..." Martin looked up from the couch as the apartment door clicked shut. "...How'd it go?"
James slipped off his shoes.
"It went fine."
Juhoon snorted.
"It did not just go 'fine.'"
James shot him a look.
"It was fine."
Keonho wandered into the living room carrying a bag of Doritos despite it being nearly dinner time.
"Did she get the wallet back?"
"Yeah."
"She was really grateful," Juhoon answered.
"And then she invited us to her penguin presentation."
Martin slowly lowered the TV remote.
"...Her?"
James blinked.
"...The aquarium employee."
"Mhm." Juhoon nodded innocently. "The cute aquarium employee."
James immediately looked over.
"I never said she was cute."
"Ooo defensive, are we?"
Seonghyeon wandered in from the hallway.
"What'd I miss?"
Martin answered without missing a beat.
"James has a fat crush."
"I do not have a ‘fat crush’."
Juhoon folded his arms.
"He got jealous of her talking about my turtle."
"...What?"
"My turtle. Choco."
Seonghyeon frowned.
"...Your actual turtle?"
"Yes. He got jealous because she remembered Choco."
James buried his face in one hand.
"It wasn't like that."
Juhoon grinned.
“Yeah, right. You just wait Romeo.”
♡
The following Saturday, James stood in front of the mirror, intently staring at his reflection. He had changed shirts and changed back so many times his arms were throbbing.
"...Maybe the blue one?"
He smoothed down his hair, turned sideways, and adjusted it again.
"...No."
Behind him, Martin had been leaning against the doorframe for the past five minutes, sipping on his iced coffee. He’d watched James smooth the exact same strand of hair for what had to be the sixth time.
"...You've never cared this much before."
James jumped slightly, holding his chest before pretending to brush off some non-existent dust.
"I always care."
"No. You really don't." Martin took another sip of his straw. "...Aquarium?"
James froze.
"...Maybe."
Martin sighed dramatically, not wanting to give in just yet.
"You know...I was planning on spending today doing absolutely nothing."
James turned around quickly.
"I'll buy you lunch."
Martin blinked.
"...Go on."
"Anywhere."
"...Anywhere?"
"Within reason."
Martin pretended to think.
"Hm." A beat. "...Deal."
James let out the smallest sigh of relief.
"Thank you."
Martin pointed toward the bedroom.
"Oh, and change the shirt."
James looked down.
"...What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing. It's just not you."
"...Then what is?"
Martin looked him up and down once.
"The cream graphic hoodie, the dark jeans, and…the white sneakers."
James stared.
"...You figured that out in five seconds?"
Martin shrugged, walking out of the room.
"I have a reputation to uphold."
♡
Thirty minutes later, the two of them were walking through the aquarium entrance. Martin looked around.
"...So."
James already knew.
"...Don't."
"How many jellyfish do you think recognize your face yet?"
"This is my second visit."
"Mhm."
"I think one of them waved."
James rolled his eyes.
"They don't wave."
"Oh but I think I saw it."
James couldn't help smiling.
"...What are you even on about..."
Martin grinned as he glanced toward the overhead sign.
Penguin Cove - Underwater Viewing Gallery
"Ooh." Martin's eyes lit up. "...Penguin lady must be there."
He lightly started jogging toward the door as James smiled to himself.
"...Yeah."
Quickly, his head snapped up.
“Wait WHAT-“
♡
The underwater viewing gallery glowed a deep ocean blue. Sunlight filtered through the massive viewing window above, rippling across the floor as penguins shot through the water with surprising speed. Every few seconds, one would zip past the glass so quickly that a chorus of children squealed behind James.
"...Whoa." Martin stepped closer to the glass. "They're like little torpedoes."
"I know." James couldn't help smiling. "They're faster than they look."
Martin slowly turned toward him.
"...You know that now?"
"...I learned things."
"You learned penguin things."
"...Maybe."
Before Martin could tease him any further-
"Oh!"
James looked up. You were walking toward them with that same laminated information card tucked beneath your arm, and a smile spread across your face almost immediately.
"You came back."
James felt something warm bloom in his chest.
"...Yeah. I figured...I only know one penguin fact." He clapped his hands together nervously. “I should probably learn another."
You laughed.
"I can definitely help with that." Your eyes shifted toward Martin. "And who's this?"
Martin smiled politely before James even had the chance to answer.
"I'm Martin. The emotional support friend."
James closed his eyes.
"...Please don't call yourself that."
Martin ignored him completely.
"He insisted I come. I was bribed with lunch."
You looked between the two of them before giggling into the back of your hand.
"I appreciate your honesty."
James sighed, face turning red.
"I'd like to apologize in advance. For him."
"I think he's funny."
Martin immediately pointed at you.
"See? I've known her thirty seconds and she gets me."
James muttered under his breath.
"...Traitor."
"What was that?"
"...Nothing."
♡
More guests gradually gathered around the exhibit as you clipped the microphone onto your collar before smiling at everyone.
"Welcome back, everyone!"
James noticed a little boy in the front row bouncing excitedly on his toes. You noticed too, and your smile softened.
"So...does anyone remembers what we learned last week?"
The little boy's hand shot into the air.
"They know each other's voices!"
"Exactly!" You pointed at him. "Very good."
James blinked.
"...He's a repeat visitor."
Martin leaned over.
"So are you."
"...Don't."
You gestured toward a penguin gliding effortlessly through the water.
"Today's fact is about how penguins swim. They might look a little clumsy on land...but underwater, they're incredible." You smiled as another penguin darted past the glass. "Instead of flying through the sky, penguins basically fly through the water."
Several children immediately pressed closer to the glass.
"No way..."
“They can reach speeds of over twenty miles per hour."
A collective chorus of "WHOA!" echoed around the exhibit as one of the penguins coincidentally demonstrated that fact. Even Martin looked impressed.
"...Okay. That's actually really cool."
"I told you."
James smiled without taking his eyes off you.
♡
After the presentation ended, families slowly wandered toward the shark tunnel. Martin folded his arms.
"I have one complaint."
You tilted your head.
"Oh?"
"There wasn't nearly enough penguin content."
You blinked, smiling.
"...The entire presentation was penguin content."
"I know. I just wanted more."
You laughed so hard that you had to actually turn off your microphone. James even found himself laughing too. Not because Martin was particularly funny, he wouldn’t admit that. But mostly because your laugh was contagious.
You looked over at James.
"...Does he always do this?"
James answered immediately.
"Unfortunately."
Martin gasped dramatically.
"I've been nothing but delightful."
"You've been here like forty minutes."
"And?"
"And I'm already tired."
"I'm your favorite."
"I never said that."
"You didn't deny it."
James sighed.
"...I walked into that one."
You smiled between the two of them before slowly walking away.
"I think you guys are fun." She waved at them. “I have to go lead another presentation, see you later!”
Martin grinned triumphantly.
"I like her."
James rubbed the back of his neck.
"...Yeah. Me too."
The words left his mouth before he had time to think, and silence immediately enveloped the both of them. Martin’s head turned very, very slowly toward James. James' eyes widened.
"...I meant- I mean she's...nice."
Martin's lips curled into the biggest grin James had ever seen.
"...Mhm. I know exactly what you meant."
James covered his face.
"...Can we please go home now?"
Martin laughed all the way toward the aquarium café.
♡
Later that evening, Martin flopped onto the couch the second they got home. Keonho looked up from the dining table.
"So?"
Martin didn't even hesitate.
"...yeah he’s fried."
James groaned from the entryway.
"I'm literally standing right here."
Martin pointed toward him without looking away from Keonho.
"He verbally admitted that he ‘likes her too.'"
Keonho's jaw dropped.
"No!"
"Oh, yes."
"He panicked immediately afterward."
Seonghyeon walked out of the kitchen carrying a bottle of water.
"...He folded?"
Martin nodded solemnly.
"In record time."
James sighed as he disappeared down the hallway.
"...I'm never inviting any of you anywhere ever again."
Martin called after him.
"You just wait until next Saturday!"
His bedroom door clicked shut and Martin looked at everyone else.
"...He's absolutely going next Saturday."
Every single one of them nodded.
"Oh yeah, definitely."
♡
The next Saturday arrived much faster than James would've liked.
"So..." Seonghyeon looked up from his phone. "...Why exactly am I going to the aquarium?"
James cleared his throat.
"We’re just going out for lunch."
"...at the aquarium?"
"It’s a great scenery!"
Seonghyeon shrugged as he slipped his phone into his pocket.
"...Works for me."
♡
This week's presentation took place beside the nesting exhibit. Tiny gray penguin chicks peeked curiously from beneath their parents while visitors crowded along the railing.
"Today's penguin fact..." You smiled at the children gathered in front of you. "...is that penguin parents take turns caring for their eggs. If one parent goes out to find food...” You turned around and pointed at a penguin. “…the other stays behind to keep the egg warm."
A little girl clasped her hands together.
"They're taking turns babysitting!"
You laughed.
"...That's actually a pretty good way to think about it."
James smiled as Seonghyeon side eyed him disgustingly. He'd stopped pretending he was only here for the penguins.
♡
Later, the aquarium café buzzed with conversation as families wandered in and out carrying trays of food. Seonghyeon stabbed another fry before looking across the table.
"So."
James immediately sighed.
"...What."
"You like her."
"I-"
"You do."
James looked down at his sandwich and sighed.
"...maybe."
Seonghyeon nodded once.
"I figured."
He took another bite before casually adding-
"You've got until every one of us has gone with you once."
James blinked.
"...What?"
"To ask her out. And if you don't..." He reached for another fry. "...we're telling her for you."
James nearly choked on his Dr. Pepper.
"You wouldn't."
"Oh. We absolutely would. If not me, Martin will gladly take up on that offer.”
♡
The following week, Keonho happily agreed to come before James even had to ask.
"I've heard the penguins are cute."
James smiled.
"...Yeah. They are."
Keonho looked sideways at him, making a sour face.
"...I’m sure YOU’RE not talking about the penguins."
♡
James had somehow become a familiar face around Penguin Cove.
Keonho slowed to a stop beside one of the massive shark tanks while James stood unusually still in front of the glass. The dark water reflected everything almost perfectly, and James absentmindedly smoothed a piece of hair back into place.
"...Okay." He adjusted the collar of his hoodie. "...That's probably fine."
Another quick fix.
"...Maybe-"
A second face suddenly appeared beside his reflection.
"...Looking at the sharks?"
"GAH!"
James nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping around to find Keonho trying, and failing, not to laugh.
"I didn't even say it that loud, hyung."
James let out a long breath, one hand pressed against his chest.
"...Don't do that."
Keonho glanced between James and the reflective glass.
"...The shark's behind you, by the way."
James looked over his shoulder.
"...Right. The shark."
Keonho folded his arms.
"Did you switch your shampoo?"
"...huh?"
"I have never seen you touch your hair this much."
James immediately shook his head.
"I always do."
"No. You really don't."
"I do!"
"You've left the apartment wearing two different socks before. Twice. On purpose."
Before James could defend himself any further, a familiar voice called from behind them.
"You guys made it, wow!"
Both of them turned. You were already walking toward them with your usual warm smile, card tucked beneath your arm.
"I'm starting over at the semi-outdoor gentoo habitat today."
James smiled before he could stop himself.
"...Good. I mean- I've never seen that section before, good."
"I figured you hadn't." You laughed. "Come on."
Keonho watched the two of you start walking, and then quietly smiled to himself.
…Oh. James was gone.
♡
The gentoo habitat buzzed with excited visitors as you clipped your microphone into place.
"Welcome, everyone!" Once the crowd settled, you pointed toward a pair of gentoo penguins waddling across the rocks. "Today's penguin fact is actually one of my favorites."
James found himself listening a little closer.
"When gentoo penguins are ready to find a mate, the male searches for the smoothest, nicest pebble he can find."
Several children looked down at the rocks beneath their feet, and you smiled.
"He'll present that pebble to the female, and if she accepts it…she'll place it in their nest. It becomes the beginning of the home they'll build together."
A collective chorus of tiny "Awwww..." drifted through the audience. James looked down at the concrete beneath his shoes.
A pebble. It was such a simple thing. Yet somehow, it felt oddly meaningful.
As families slowly wandered toward the jellyfish gallery, you made your way over to the two of them.
"So? What'd you think?"
Keonho answered first.
"I think penguins have better dating strategies than humans."
You laughed.
"...Honestly? Sometimes I think so too."
James smiled quietly.
"...I liked the pebble fact."
Your face brightened.
"I knew you would. It's one of those facts that sounds almost made up, but it's actually true."
James nodded absentmindedly.
"...Yeah."
♡
On the drive home, Keonho looked over from the passenger seat.
"...You're thinking about that pebble."
James nearly choked on absolutely nothing.
"What?"
"The pebble."
"...No."
"You've had the exact same eyebrows furrowed expression since we left."
James stared out the window.
"...It's just...a nice fact."
Keonho smiled to himself.
"Mhm."
Outside, trees blurred past the window and James glanced at them in silence.
A smooth pebble. It really was a nice fact.
♡
Friday slipped by quietly. James spent almost the entire afternoon wandering along the river that cut through the city park, and every few minutes, he'd crouch down, pick up a pebble, turn it over in his hand and then sigh while tossing it back.
"Too rough."
Another.
"Too flat."
Another.
"...Too small."
Hours passed before he finally stopped. Nestled among the smooth stones near the water's edge sat a small blue-ish pebble, perfectly rounded by the current. It wasn't flashy…and it was just simple enough. James smiled to himself.
"...There you are."
He carefully brushed it clean before slipping it safely into the pocket of his hoodie.
♡
When he finally got home that evening, Seonghyeon looked up from the couch.
"...Where've you been all day?"
James slipped off his shoes.
"...Out."
"...Doing what?"
"...You know…” James hung up his hat and slowly looked back at Seonghyeon. “…Frolicking…"
Seonghyeon slowly lowered his phone and squinted at James.
".…what?"
James only shrugged as he disappeared down the hallway.
"...Goodnight."
The moment his bedroom door clicked shut, Keonho looked over from the kitchen.
"...He definitely found it."
Juhoon blinked.
"...Found what?"
Keonho huffed out a laugh, recalling the activities earlier.
"...The pebble."
♡
The next morning arrived quickly, and for the first time since all of this started, everyone came. Martin, Keonho, Juhoon, Seonghyeon…even James felt a little ridiculous walking into the aquarium surrounded by what looked like his own personal cheering section. Martin glanced around dramatically.
"...We've practically got season passes."
"James’ been here five times," Seonghyeon deadpanned. "I think one of the penguins recognizes us."
Juhoon nodded thoughtfully.
"...I hope Choco isn't jealous."
James sighed.
"...Please don't start."
You spotted them almost immediately, and a laugh escaped you as all five of them walked toward Penguin Cove together.
"...Wow. You brought everyone this time."
James rubbed the back of his neck.
"...Yeah...you know…gotta show the kids marine life."
Seonghyeon snapped his head towards him.
"Ew no, what."
Juhoon rolled his eyes and looked towards you.
“We’re his emotional support group.”
James elbowed him.
"...Ow!"
"You deserved that."
You couldn't help smiling.
"I'll see you guys after the presentation."
♡
The crowd gathered around the habitat. You clipped on your microphone before smiling warmly.
"Before we start...does anyone remember last week's penguin fact?"
James stared very intently at the floor. Please. Nobody say anything.
A beat of silence covered all of them as you glanced around the room warmly. Then, Keonho slowly raised his hand.
"It was about gentoo penguins. They search for the smoothest pebble they can find and give it to the penguin they want to build a nest with."
Your face brightened, smiling towards him.
"Exactly!"
Then, far louder than necessary, Martin pointed across the group.
"Somebody keep the pebbles away from James hyung!"
Half the families around them laughed, even if they didn’t know who ‘James’ was. James on the other hand, immediately turned bright red.
"Martin!"
He elbowed him hard in the side.
"Ow! What?! I didn't even say anything bad!"
"You did!"
You blinked between the five of them.
"...Should I ask?"
Juhoon laughed into his sleeve.
"...Probably not."
Keonho shook his head.
"It's...a long story."
You smiled, still slightly confused.
"...I'll pretend I understand."
The presentation ended soon after that incident, erupting another round of applause. Children hurried toward the next exhibit while parents thanked you on their way out. James watched as you waved goodbye to the last family, and then Martin suddenly looked toward the opposite hallway.
"...Would you look at the time." He pointed dramatically at his wrist full random bracelets. "I think they're feeding the sea otters now!"
Juhoon caught on instantly.
"No way. We're gonna miss it!"
Keonho gasped.
"Let's go!"
Seonghyeon sighed dramatically, shrugging towards James.
"...Guess we have to."
Before James could say a word, Martin gave him a firm pat on the shoulder.
"You've got this twin."
Then, as one very suspiciously coordinated group, they all disappeared down the hallway. James stared after them.
"...Traitors."
A soft laugh pulled his attention back. You were smiling.
"...Your friends seem very determined."
"...They're...helpful in their own way."
You looked down at your watch.
"...Actually, did you know this is the first Saturday I'm off for the rest of the day."
James felt his heartbeat pick up. Now or never. He took a slow breath.
"...Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
He looked at you for just a second before the words finally came.
"...Would you maybe want to get something to eat with me?” He paused for a second, smiling nervously. "...Like...a date."
For a moment, you simply looked at him. Then slowly, your smile grew.
"I was wondering when you were going to ask."
James blinked.
"...You were?"
"You've been coming every Saturday. I had a feeling it wasn't only for the penguins."
He laughed quietly, a little embarrassed.
"...The penguins helped."
"I figured."
His hand slipped into the pocket of his hoodie.
"...One more thing."
He opened his hand, and resting in his palm was a smooth blue pebble. You looked from the pebble to him, and your eyes widened.
"...Last week's presentation?"
He nodded, suddenly looking much more nervous than he had asking you on the date.
"I know it's a little cheesy, and I- I know we aren’t penguins…but…I kept thinking about what you said so I thought..." His voice grew quieter. "...I'd give it a try."
For a second, you simply stared at the little pebble. Then, ever so carefully, you picked it up.
“I think..." You smiled. "...it's perfect."
James couldn't stop smiling.
"...Really?"
"Really."
You closed your fingers around it before looking back at him.
"So...you still owe me that date."
He laughed.
"I do."
"Awesome...because I know a café about five minutes from here."
Together, the two of you walked toward the aquarium exit. Behind the wall separating Penguin Cove from the sea otter exhibit, five very familiar heads slowly popped out one by one. Martin watched James and you disappear toward the front entrance before pumping his fist into the air.
"He did it!"
Keonho grinned.
"I can't believe he actually used the pebble method. Wait can we patten the pebble method."
Juhoon folded his arms.
"...I knew it was going to become something the day James gave her wallet back."
Seonghyeon smiled to himself.
"...About time."
None of them noticed James glance back through the glass doors just long enough to catch the five of them spying. He only shook his head and laughed.
“Silly.”
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: I can’t tell if this was boring or too long, and if it was I’m so sorry guys. 😭 I got carried away, but I hope it was enjoyable nonetheless. I might make a poll, but I’ll ask here first:
Do you enjoy longer fics (such as this) that have more plot, or do you like shorter, more close to 2k words fics? Like I can’t tell.
Genre: Fluff, domestic, slice of life, established relationship
Synopsis: After an especially exhausting day of practice, Juhoon comes home barely able to keep his eyes open.
Warning(s): Tooth-rotting fluff, sleepy Juhoon, cuddling, this is just too cute
Word Count: ~1.3k+
A/N: Hai! This is just a quick and short idea I had, so I hope you all enjoy. 🤍
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
The soft hum of the bathroom fan and the occasional tapping of your fingers against your phone filled the room as you sat cross-legged near the headboard of your shared bed. Juhoon had gotten home barely twenty minutes ago, long enough to mumble a sleepy, "Hi” and steal a quick kiss from your forehead. He disappeared into the shower right as he arrived, and you smiled to yourself as warm steam began curling beneath the bathroom door.
Poor thing. He'd looked so exhausted. Almost as if his exhaustion settled into every movement he made, and even taking his shoes off seemed like a chore. You'd noticed how heavy his eyes were and how low his shoulders were hanging the second he'd walked through the front door. Even his smile had been smaller.
Practice must've been rough.
♡
The bathroom door clicked open and a cloud of warm steam drifted into the bedroom before Juhoon stepped out wearing loose gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt. A white towel rested around his neck as his dark strands of hair dripped steadily onto the hardwood floor. He looked...comfortable. You know, the freshly showered warmth that made him even sleepier than before.
You looked up from your phone and smiled.
"Hai."
His lips curved into the tiniest smile.
"...Hi."
His voice was low. Still carrying that sleepy rasp it always seemed to have after long days. You studied him for another second before patting the bed in front of you.
"Sit."
Juhoon blinked slowly, but then gave the smallest nod.
"...Okay."
He shuffled over and climbed onto the bed, sitting farther back on the mattress until his legs barely hung over the edge. His eyes already started drifting shut as his hands rested loosely in his lap.
"I'll be right back."
He hummed softly in acknowledgement. You slipped into the bathroom and reached beneath the sink for the hair dryer before plugging it into the outlet beside the bed.
When you turned around, Juhoon's head had already begun tipping forward. A smile tugged at your lips.
"...Ju."
His eyes slowly fluttered open.
"Hm?"
He looked up at you, and then at the hair dryer in your hands. Recognition softened his expression almost immediately.
"...You're drying my hair?"
"Mhm."
"You don't have to."
"I know." You stepped a little closer. "But I want to."
After you said that, he simply looked at you. He was too tired to find the words he wanted, but then, almost shyly...
"...Thank you."
Your heart squeezed.
"You don't have to thank me."
Just as you reached to switch on the dryer, you felt gentle fingers wrap around your wrist. You looked down.
"...Ju?"
Still barely awake, he gave your hand the tiniest tug.
"...Closer."
You couldn't help smiling.
"Oh."
Carefully, you settled sideways onto one of his thighs so you could reach the back of his head more easily. Almost instantly, his shoulders relaxed. Like that tiny bit of extra closeness was exactly what he'd been looking for. You switched on the hair dryer promptly, and warm air filled the room. Your fingers combed gently through his damp hair as you worked softly, careful not to tangle anything. Juhoon's eyes closed almost immediately.
"How was practice?"
"...Good..."
You smiled.
"Just good?"
A tiny nod.
"Mhm..."
"What'd you work on today?"
A quiet pause.
"...The chorus..."
"The whole time?"
"...Mostly..."
You laughed softly.
"No wonder you're so tired."
Another sleepy hum. You continued drying the top of his hair before reaching around toward the back.
"I'm just gonna get behind your head."
"...Okay."
You leaned forward slightly, lifting the dryer to reach the damp hair near the nape of his neck. Almost instinctively, Juhoon leaned forward too. Until-
Bonk.
His forehead came to rest gently against your shoulder. You froze.
"...Ju?"
"...Mhm."
"You comfy?"
"...Mhm."
A laugh escaped you.
"I kind of figured."
He didn't move even a little. His breathing had already begun growing steadier, and at that moment you knew you didn’t have much time until he fully knocked out.
"Can I finish drying your hair?"
"...Mhm."
He remained exactly where he was…still using your shoulder as a pillow. You bit back another smile before awkwardly angling the dryer around him.
"This is...a little difficult."
No response.
"...Ju?"
Nothing. You peeked toward his face. His eyes were closed, lashes resting softly against his cheeks with his mouth relaxed.
He'd fallen asleep.
"...Already?"
You lowered the dryer to its quietest setting.
"Okay..." You whispered more to yourself than to him. "Let's finish this."
Every so often his head would grow just a little heavier against your shoulder, but you'd steady him with your free hand before continuing. The warmth from the dryer, the quiet room, and the steady sound of his breathing begun to make you a little sleepy too. You could've stayed like that forever.
A few minutes later though, you clicked the dryer off. Silence settled over the bedroom once more.
"I'm done." You didn’t hear a response for a while, so you just smiled. "Ju?"
Still asleep.
Carefully, you shifted to stand. Or…at least you tried to. Something gently caught the back of your shirt. You looked down in confusion.
Juhoon's hand. His fingers had absentmindedly curled around the fabric near your waist. Your heart practically melted.
"...Baby."
He didn't stir at all. You turned back toward him, reaching up to softly comb your fingers through his now warm, dry hair. Your nails lightly scratched against his scalp.
"There you go."
Instantly, his grip loosened until his hand slipped away completely. You smiled before making your way to the outlet and quietly unplugging the hair dryer. After, you folded the towel he'd abandoned around his neck and hung it back in the bathroom, while filling his water bottle in the mean time. Once finished, you turned off the bathroom light and went to the front room to lock the apartment door.
By the time you returned, Juhoon had somehow managed to stretch diagonally across nearly the entire bed. One sock had even worked itself halfway off, and the blanket was twisted beneath him. You couldn't help laughing at the scene in front of you.
"You couldn't even make it under the covers."
You gently pulled the blanket over him before switching off the bedside lamp. The room fell into a comforting darkness, only lit by the moonlight spilling through the curtains.
You slipped beneath the blanket beside him and mattress dipped ever so slightly. Juhoon rolled toward you without missing a beat, eyes still closed and still completely asleep. One arm wrapped securely around your waist, and the other tucked beneath your back, pulling you close enough to where there wasn't even an inch of space left between you. Then, without opening his eyes, he buried his face against the crook of your neck.
A tiny sigh escaped him.
"...mmm you’re back."
You looked at him with a smile. His nose brushed lightly against your skin.
"...Warm..."
His voice was barely more than a sleepy mumble. You brought your hand up to the back of his head, softly patting the freshly washed hair.
"I know."
Silence engulfed the both of you. You simply rested your other hand against his back, slowly rubbing comforting circles through the fabric of his T-shirt. Just as you thought he'd drifted off completely, his soft and sleep-heavy voice came through again.
"...Thank you..."
You blinked.
"For what?"
There was a long pause before he spoke again. Long enough that you thought he might've fallen asleep again. Then...
"...Taking care of me..."
Your heart ached in the gentlest way. You pressed the lightest kiss against his forehead before brushing a few now perfectly dry strands away from his eyes.
"Always."
No answer came this time. Only the slow, even rhythm of his breathing. No matter how crazy practice or the outside world was, tucked safely beneath warm blankets, home had never felt quieter. Or warmer. Or quite so full of love.
You breathed out a heavy sigh of content before snuggling further into Juhoon, allowing yourself to finally relax for the night.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: This was a pretty quick one to write and I actually have to admit, this was in my ideas list for a good month or two. I’m glad I finally got to it though because it’s so soft and cutesy! I hope you all enjoyed! 🥹
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Can you write a fic about Martin (CORTIS) and his alien theory? Maybe he is in debate cub or some arguement with a someone. You can add lots of humor if you can and make the arguement serious. Thanks!
Alien Theory
Pairing: student!Martin x student!reader
Genre: Fluff, humor, college AU, slice of life, Martins a goofball, featured: All of CORTIS (obviously), Sunoo of ENHYPEN, Dohoon of TWS, Sophia of Katseye, Annie of All Day Project, Wonhee of ILLIT, and Vernon of Seventeen
Synopsis: When Debate Club announces that today's topic is the existence of extraterrestrial life, Martin is convinced this is the moment he's been preparing for his entire life.
Warning(s): Nothing huge! Just Martin being very, very serious about aliens.
Word Count: ~4.6k+
A/N: Hai!! This idea is so cool, and I remember watching that Buzzfeed Celeb video! 😂 Martin was pretty serious and I find it very funny! I’m sorry if this seems rushed I was just super excited to write it!! I really hope you enjoy what I’ve made! 🤍
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
"You have that look."
Martin looked up from tying his sneakers by the apartment door.
"...What look?"
"The look like something brewing in your head."
"I've only known about it since Monday."
You smiled to yourself as you slipped your backpack over one shoulder.
"So...you do have something to tell me."
"I do baby." He practically bounced to his feet before pulling his phone from his pocket. "Look."
He held the screen toward you. A bright blue flyer filled the display.
~ COTL UNIVERSITY DEBATE CLUB ~
THIS FRIDAY’S TOPIC:
Resolved: Extraterrestrial life exists somewhere in the universe.
You blinked once before looking back at him, smiling.
"...You're excited aren’t you."
Martin's eyes widened.
"Excited?" He pointed dramatically at the screen. "Baby."
"I know."
"No, you don't." He started walking toward the apartment door, already talking with his hands. "I have been WAITING for someone to challenge me on this."
You laughed softly, following behind him.
"...Have you?"
"For years."
He opened the door for you before continuing as the two of you stepped into the hallway.
"People always misunderstand my argument on this."
"Really?"
"They think I'm saying aliens are secretly living among us."
"You aren't?"
He stopped walking.
"...I mean..." A thoughtful pause. "...Probably not."
"Probably?"
"I'm keeping an open mind to things."
You couldn't help laughing.
"Baby."
"What?"
"Let's maybe start today's debate with ‘probability’ instead of ‘we might all secretly be aliens’."
He considered that.
"...That's actually good advice."
"I try."
The two of you stepped outside into the crisp morning air, beginning the familiar walk toward campus.
"So," you asked, slipping your hand into his, "what's your actual argument?"
Martin's entire face lit up.
"Oh, I'm SO glad you asked."
You smiled. Of course he was, that’s why you asked.
"The universe is unimaginably huge."
"Mhm."
"There are billions of galaxies."
"Right.”
"And each galaxy has billions of stars."
You nodded thoughtfully.
"So statistically..." He looked at you expectantly. "...it would be incredibly unlikely that Earth is the only place life has ever formed."
Martin gasped dramatically.
"You WERE listening."
You bumped your shoulder against his.
"I always listen."
He grinned.
"I know."
A comfortable silence settled between the two of you before you glanced over again.
"So..."
"Mhm?"
"You're going to win right?"
Martin smiled with complete confidence.
"...Absolutely."
You raised an eyebrow.
"That's confidence."
"No." He adjusted the strap of his backpack. "It's evidence."
You laughed so hard you had to let go of his hand for a second, and Martin smiled to himself.
Mission accomplished.
♡
By the end of the school day, Martin reached the Student Activities Building with excitement overflowing out of him. He pushed open the door to the Debate Club room and immediately froze.
"...Oh."
Nearly every seat was already occupied. James sat near the back, lazily spinning a pen between his fingers while Juhoon flipped through a notebook beside him. Keonho leaned back in his chair, feet stretched out beneath the table, and Seonghyeon quietly scrolled through something on his laptop. Across the room sat Sophia and Wonhee chatting softly while Dohoon organized a stack of papers. Sunoo waved the moment he noticed Martin in the doorway and Vernon lifted a hand in greeting beside him. The club president was coming a little later, so they were all waiting to start.
"...Everyone's here."
James looked up first.
"There he is."
Sunoo immediately grinned.
"Our resident alien enthusiast. We knew you’d show up.”
Martin proudly accepted the title.
"Thank you."
"...That wasn't necessarily a compliment."
"I receive it as one, thank you very much."
"Martin!" Keonho motioned dramatically toward the empty chair beside him. "I've got an important question before this starts."
Martin dropped into the seat.
"Shoot."
"If aliens came to Earth..." He folded his hands together. "...would they have to pay out-of-state tuition for any school?"
The room burst into laughter, but Martin kept it serious.
"...Depends."
Keonho blinked.
"...Depends?"
"If they're enrolled, would they be considered international students?…OR MAYBE INTERGALACTIC STUDENTS?"
James immediately covered his face.
"Oh no..." Juhoon sighed. "He's taking the questions seriously."
"He always does it’s Martin."
Wonhee smiled from across the table.
"So..." She rested her chin in her hand. "Did you actually prepare for this?"
Martin slowly reached into his backpack and pulled out a neat stack of handwritten note cards onto the table. The room collectively stared at it.
Sophia blinked once.
"...Flashcards?"
Martin nodded proudly.
"Twenty-three!"
Sunoo’s jaw dropped.
"...Twenty-three? That’s…a lot Martin.”
"I cut it down."
"You CUT IT DOWN?"
"It was originally thirty-one but I felt that might’ve been a little overboard."
James leaned toward Seonghyeon.
"...I told you."
"You weren't exaggerating."
"I never exaggerate. It’s either he yaps too much or his handwriting is HUGE."
♡
The club president, Annie, walked to the front of the room after a while and clapped twice.
"Alright, everyone." The conversations gradually settled. "Welcome back folks."
She smiled around the room.
"As you all know, today's debate topic is..."
She turned toward the whiteboard “Resolved: Extraterrestrial life exists somewhere in the universe.”
Several people smiled, but Martin obviously smiled even wider than he already was. Annie continued.
"As always, anyone may volunteer for either side to begin the discussion."
Before she'd even finished speaking, a chair scraped loudly against the floor. Martin was already standing.
"I'll take affirmative."
Not an ounce of hesitation coursed through his veins, and some people in the room giggled at his confidence. Annie laughed too.
"I...had a feeling you might."
"I've been looking forward to this all week."
"We know," James muttered jokingly. "You've only mentioned it..." He pretended to count on his fingers. "...roughly every six hours."
Martin looked offended.
"It was every eight."
James blinked.
"...bruh what.”
"I'll take the negative."
Everyone turned. Dohoon calmly closed his notebook before standing, and Martin smiled immediately.
"Oh, good."
Dohoon raised an eyebrow.
"...Good?"
"I was hoping someone would actually challenge me. You’re fun to debate with."
Keonho leaned over toward Juhoon.
"This place is going to turn into a battlefield."
"I know."
"I think he's having fun though."
Juhoon looked at Martin, who was already organizing his note cards with alarming enthusiasm.
"...I think he's in love with this topic."
From the other side of the room, Wonhee quietly laughed.
"I've never seen someone this excited to debate in the months that we’ve been doing this."
Sophia smiled.
"I don't think he's excited to debate." She nodded toward Martin. "I think he's excited to talk about space."
Martin looked up, confirming to them that he can hear that they are talking about him.
"...Both ladies. Both."
The president gestured toward the front of the room.
"Alright." She glanced between Martin and Dohoon. "You each have five minutes for your opening statements."
Martin picked up his note cards before pausing. He looked down at them, thought for a second, and quietly set them back on the table.
James noticed immediately.
"...Wait."
Juhoon followed his gaze.
"...He's not using the twenty three flashcards?"
James smiled.
"...I’m sure he doesn't need them."
Martin walked confidently toward the front of the room. He took one slow breath before making it behind the podium and looking around at everyone gathered in the room. Slowly, he smiled.
"Let's talk about aliens."
♡
"...That is statistically improbable!"
"It is statistically possible!"
"It is statistically unlikely!"
"It is statistically beautiful!"
"Martin!"
"I'm making a point!"
"You are making assumptions!"
"I'm making observations!"
"You're making a TED Talk!"
Laughter erupted throughout the room. Annie pinched the bridge of her nose before tapping her pencil against the table.
"One at a time girls.”
Immediately, the room irrupted in soft giggles before quieting back down again. Martin adjusted the microphone clipped to his podium before taking a steady breath.
"Thank you."
He looked toward Dohoon with the kind of smile that somehow managed to be both friendly...and like an incredibly determined rival.
"My opponent continues arguing that because we have yet to discover extraterrestrial life, it therefore doesn't exist."
Dohoon raised a finger.
"Actually, I said we don't have sufficient evidence."
Martin pointed back.
"Exactly." He leaned forward slightly. "And I agree."
The room blinked…and Dohoon blinked.
"...You do?"
"Absolutely." Martin nodded once. "There is currently no confirmed evidence that extraterrestrial life exists."
James quietly leaned toward Juhoon.
"...Here comes the turn."
Juhoon folded his arms.
"...He's doing the galaxy argument."
"I told you."
Martin rested both hands against the podium.
"I'm not arguing certainty." His voice remained calm. "I'm arguing probability."
He looked around the room slowly, almost as if he was looking at space itself.
"The observable universe contains billions of galaxies, and each galaxy contains billions of stars." He held up both of his hands, cupping the air as if he were holding planets. "Many of those stars have planets and every year we discover more."
Sophia slowly nodded in agreement, muttering to Wonhee about his points. Martin noticed immediately.
"Exactly." He gestured toward her. "The number keeps growing."
He looked back at everyone else.
"So let me ask you all something."
Silence settled across the room as he took a deep breath.
"If I handed every person here a single grain of sand..." He reached into his pocket before setting a tiny pebble he'd picked up outside onto the podium. "...and I told you this represented Earth..." His finger tapped it gently. "...would you honestly look at every beach on Earth..." He spread both arms wide. "...and confidently tell me there couldn't possibly be another grain of sand anywhere else?"
The room remained quiet. Even Sunoo had stopped smiling. Martin looked toward Dohoon again.
"I'm not asking you to believe little green goblin people are hiding behind the science building as we speak."
A few people laughed. He even smiled as his words as well.
"But I'm asking whether, in a universe this unimaginably large..." He gently tapped the pebble once more. "...is it reasonable to assume this..." Tap. "...is the only place life has ever happened?”
Dohoon stepped away from his podium slowly.
"I understand your analogy." Martin nodded respectfully. "But again, probability isn't proof."
"No." Martin agreed immediately. "It isn't."
"So why should we accept your conclusion?"
Martin smiled.
"We shouldn't."
Dohoon frowned.
"...Excuse me?"
"We should accept..." Martin straightened his posture. "...that it's possible."
He paused, taking a deep breath.
"And if it's possible..." Another pause. "...then it's worth asking."
Wonhee slowly raised her hand, and Annie smiled while looking over.
"Witness- I mean..." She laughed. "Audience questions are allowed."
Wonhee looked toward Martin.
"You keep saying 'life.'"
He nodded.
"I do."
"Do you mean intelligent civilizations...or any form of life?"
Martin's eyes lit up.
"Thank you for your question."
He pointed toward her so enthusiastically that James quietly muttered to himself-
"There it is. It’s coming."
Martin couldn't stop smiling.
"That's exactly the distinction people miss." He turned back toward the room. "When I say extraterrestrial life...I'm not necessarily talking about civilizations building spaceships.” He shrugged. "It could be microscopic. Bacteria, single-celled organisms, or even something completely unlike anything we've ever imagined."
He looked toward Wonhee again.
"So yes. My argument includes intelligent life...but it doesn't depend on it."
Wonhee smiled thoughtfully.
"...I like that answer."
Martin smiled back.
"...Thank you."
Keonho's hand shot into the air, and Annie sighed dramatically.
"...I'm almost afraid."
"I have a hypothetical."
"I thought so."
Keonho folded his hands together, pouting towards Annie. She sighed before closing her eyes.
“…go ahead Keonho. One of our rules here is that no question is a stupid question.”
She looked up, opening her eyes before muttering to herself-
“Even if we really think it is.”
Keonho continued promptly.
"Let's say aliens land on campus tomorrow."
Martin nodded seriously.
"Okay."
"They ask you to go with them."
"...Mhm."
"What do you do?"
Martin didn't hesitate.
"I ask questions."
The room laughed.
"No, seriously."
Keonho grinned.
"You aren't scared?"
Martin looked genuinely confused.
"Why would I be?"
"They're aliens."
"They're curious. So am I." He smiled. "I think we'd have a lot to talk about."
Vernon quietly looked toward James.
"...Honestly...I kind of believe him."
James didn't even glance away from Martin.
"...Me…too. In a way."
Martin looked around the room one more time before rested both of his hands firmly on the podium.
"I'm not asking any of you to leave here believing aliens have visited Earth."
His voice softened.
"I'm asking you to consider that maybe..." He glanced upward for just a second. "...the universe is far too incredible...to think we're its only story."
The room fell completely silent. No one spoke for a while, and not even Annie seemed to hesitate before clearing her throat.
"...Thank you, Martin." She glanced around the room, almost surprised to find everyone still watching him so intently. "We'll now move into shared rebuttals."
Dohoon stood from his seat, buttoning the front of his cardigan before making his way toward the podium opposite Martin's. Unlike Martin, he didn't pace or gesture dramatically, but he simply rested both hands on the podium.
"I'd first like to commend Martin."
Martin blinked.
"...Oh."
A few quiet chuckles echoed around the room. Dohoon smiled politely.
"His argument has been thoughtful, well-researched, and surprisingly persuasive."
Martin looked genuinely pleased.
"...Thank you."
"But..." Dohoon continued. "I think you've confused possibility with probability."
Martin's smile only grew. Dohoon raised an eyebrow.
"...what?"
"I've been waiting for someone to say that."
James quietly leaned back in his chair.
"...Here we go…time to get comfy."
Dohoon folded his hands together.
"You're arguing that because something could happen...it's therefore likely."
Martin immediately shook his head.
"No."
"No?"
"No." Martin stepped away from the podium calmly. "I'm arguing that the sheer scale of the universe changes what we consider likely."
He looked around the room.
"If I bought one lottery ticket..." He held up a finger. "...would I expect to win?"
"No," Seonghyeon answered out loud.
Martin nodded.
"Right. But..." He spread both hands. "If every person on Earth bought millions of lottery tickets..." He looked back toward Dohoon. "...would someone eventually win?"
Dohoon nodded.
"...Probably, yes."
Martin smiled.
"Probability changes...” He pointed upward. "...when the numbers become unimaginably large."
Sunoo slowly lowered the cookie he'd been eating.
"...Okay." He looked around the room. "I hate how much sense this is making."
Laughter rippled through the audience, and Martin couldn't help smiling.
"I appreciate your honesty Hyung."
Juhoon raised his hand, and Annie nodded.
"Go ahead."
Juhoon leaned forward.
"I have a question."
Martin gestured toward him.
"Shoot."
"What if..." Juhoon paused thoughtfully. "...life really is just this incredibly rare?"
Martin considered it.
"It could be."
The room grew quiet again. He continued.
"I've never argued otherwise."
"You haven't?"
Martin shook his head.
"No." He smiled. "Rare doesn't necessarily mean impossible."
Keonho suddenly snapped his fingers.
"I HAVE A QUESTION."
Annie sighed.
"I'm almost afraid to call on you."
"You should be."
The room laughed, and Annie sighed while gesturing her hand for him to speak. Keonho leaned forward dramatically.
"What if..." He pointed toward Martin. "...you're an alien?"
Complete silence enveloped the room. Martin stared back at him.
"..."
"..."
"...Honestly?" He shrugged. "I can't completely rule it out."
The room exploded. James doubled over laughing, Sunoo nearly dropped his water bottle, and even Annie covered her face.
"Martin!"
"What?"
"What is that even supposed to mean!"
"I answered honestly!"
"You know what?" Dohoon laughed, shaking his head. "I've changed my strategy."
Martin tilted his head.
"Oh?"
"I'm no longer trying to prove aliens don't exist."
"Okay."
"I'm trying to prove you're impossible."
Martin placed a hand over his heart, fake making puppy dog eyes.
"...That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."
Once the laughter finally settled, Sophia raised her hand again.
"I have one more question."
Martin smiled.
"Go for it."
"If scientists discovered the microbial life tomorrow..." She tilted her head. "...would that satisfy your argument?"
Martin didn't answer immediately. Instead, he looked around the room. At James. Juhoon. Keonho. Wonhee. Sunoo. Vernon. Dohoon. Sophia. Annie.
Then smiled.
"Yes." The room quieted. "It absolutely would."
He rested both hands on the podium.
"I think people hear the word 'alien' and imagine movies with those green twig people." He shrugged. "I hear the word...and imagine discovery."
For just a moment, nobody interrupted him…or joked…or even laughed at his statement. Martin looked around the room one last time before smiling to himself.
"The universe doesn't owe us answers." He glanced toward the window where the afternoon sunlight spilled across the floor. "But...I think it invites us to keep asking questions."
Silence. Then, a single clap. Everyone turned. Wonhee. She smiled sheepishly before noticing the pairs of eyes on her.
"...Sorry. I forgot this was still a debate...it just sounded so inspirational…"
James laughed before joining in. Then Sunoo. And then Vernon. Soon, the entire room erupted into applause. Martin blinked.
"...Wait."
Annie smiled warmly from the front of the room.
"I don't think they're applauding because they all agree with you." She set her pencil down. "I think they're applauding because you reminded everyone why science is fun."
The applause gradually faded into a comfortable silence. Martin stood behind the podium for another second, almost unsure what to do with himself now that nobody was arguing back. He glanced toward Annie.
"...Is it over?"
A laugh rippled through the room. Annie looked at Dohoon contently going back to his seat, and smiled.
"I believe it is."
Martin nodded once before gathering his note cards into a neat stack at his desk.
Twenty-three flashcards, and he used none.
Annie looked down at the scoring sheets spread across the table.
"First of all..." She looked up at both debaters. "Thank you both for volunteering and debating this week."
Her smile widened.
"That was probably one of the most entertaining debates we've had all semester."
Keonho quietly pumped his fist.
"I told you aliens would deliver."
"You delivered about three hypotheticals and one identity crisis," Juhoon muttered.
"I stand by every single one."
Annie continued tallying the final scores, and the room buzzed with quiet conversation in the mean time. Sunoo leaned toward James.
"...He actually had me questioning myself."
James smiled.
"I know."
"I came here expecting conspiracy theories."
"So did I."
"...Instead I got astronomy."
James shrugged.
"That's Martin."
A moment later, Annie set her pen down.
"Alright." The room slowly quieted. "The judges reached a decision."
Martin folded his hands behind his back. Not out of nerves, but you know. Just...waiting.
"This debate was incredibly close."
Dohoon smiled politely from across the room.
"However..." She looked up from the paper. "By a score of forty-seven to forty-four..."
A tiny pause. "The affirmative takes today's debate."
Martin blinked.
"...Really?"
Annie laughed.
"Yes, really."
For half a second...he simply stood there. Processing it. Did he…just win the debate he’s been preparing for his whole life?
Then, the biggest smile imaginable spread across his face.
"...I won."
James was already clapping, and Wonhee joined in immediately.
"You actually did it!"
Soon the room filled with applause again. Martin laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"...Thank you guys."
Dohoon crossed the room first and offered his hand. Martin shook it without hesitation.
"You argued well."
Martin smiled.
"So did you."
Dohoon chuckled.
"I still don't agree with you."
"I wasn't expecting you to."
"But..." He shrugged. "You made me think."
Martin's grin softened.
"...That's all I wanted."
"You know what I want to know?"
Keonho suddenly appeared beside them out of no where. Martin jumped slightly before sighing dramatically.
"...Here we go."
"If aliens invited you to join their civilization..." He folded his arms. "...would you leave us?"
Martin looked genuinely conflicted.
"...Do they have like new developed snacks?"
The room burst into laughter. Keonho pointed triumphantly.
"I KNEW IT."
"You didn't answer my question."
"You answered MY question."
James wandered over, shaking his head.
"I noticed you skipped the flashcards."
Martin looked down at the stack in his hands.
"...I did."
James smiled.
"You didn't need them."
Martin glanced at the cards, and then quietly tucked them back into his backpack.
"...Maybe not."
Wonhee walked over next.
"I have to ask."
Martin looked at her.
"...Mhm?"
"Were there actually thirty-one flashcards originally?"
Martin nodded.
"...Yeah."
She stared.
"...That's incredible."
"I got a little carried away."
"A little?"
"...A little."
She laughed.
"I liked your answer about microbial life."
Martin's face brightened.
"Really?"
"It made your argument feel...bigger." She searched for the right word. "Less about aliens, you know? More about curiosity."
Martin smiled.
"...That's exactly what I was trying to say."
As everyone began packing up their bags, Vernon slung his backpack over one shoulder.
"I've decided something."
Martin looked over.
"...What's that?"
"If aliens ever do show up..." He shrugged. "...I'm letting you do all the talking."
Martin laughed.
"Deal."
Annie gathered the last of the score sheets before looking up.
"Oh- and Martin?"
He turned around.
"Yeah?"
She smiled.
"Next week's topic is renewable energy if you would like to come again."
Martin nodded thoughtfully.
"...I already have opinions."
James groaned dramatically.
"Oh no."
Juhoon sighed.
"We're never going to hear the end of this."
Martin simply smiled to himself. They were probably right.
♡
By the time he stepped outside, the afternoon sun hung low over campus. His phone buzzed in his pocket.
🫀my princess:
How'd it go baby?
Martin couldn't stop smiling. His thumbs moved almost faster than he could think.
I WON!!!!!!
Three dots appeared almost instantly. Then-
🫀my princess:
I knew you would 🤍
Martin looked at the message for a second longer than necessary. His smile somehow grew even bigger. Without thinking, he started walking a little faster toward the apartment.
He couldn't wait to tell you everything.
♡
When Martin reached the apartment building, he was practically taking the stairs two at a time. His key barely even made it into the lock before he was pushing the door open.
"Baby!"
No answer. He frowned.
"...Y/N?"
A familiar voice drifted from the living room.
"I'm in here."
Martin rounded the corner and immediately smiled.bThe television quietly played Tangled, warm afternoon sunlight spilling across the couch. You sat curled beneath a blanket with your laptop balanced on your knees, one of his oversized graphic hoodies nearly swallowing your hands as you highlighted notes for tomorrow's lecture. The sleeves were still too long, but he hoped they always would be. He always thought you were cute in his sweaters.
The moment you looked up, your entire face brightened.
"Hai baby."
Martin dropped his backpack by the front door before making a beeline for the couch.
"I won."
You laughed.
"I heard."
He blinked.
"...You did?"
You held up your phone smiling.
"You texted me in all caps."
"...Right."
"And like…six exclamation points."
"I was excited."
"I could tell, and I’m glad you were!”
You closed your laptop and set it on the coffee table.
"So..." You tucked one leg beneath you as Martin collapsed onto the couch beside you. "Tell me everything."
Martin didn't need to be asked twice.
"It was incredible."
"I figured."
"No, seriously." He leaned forward, already talking with his hands. "It started with Dohoon saying I was confusing possibility with probability-"
"Mhm."
"And I said I wasn't arguing certainty-"
"I remember."
"You remember?"
"You practiced that part yesterday."
Martin blinked.
"...right..."
"You also practiced it while brushing your teeth."
"...I forgot about that."
"I didn't."
He laughed, shaking his head.
"I can't believe you remember all of this."
You smiled softly.
"Of course I remember the things that matter to you."
Martin almost forgot where he was going with the story, but swiftly he regained his train of thought.
"You know..." He leaned back against the couch cushions. "I was nervous."
You looked at him in surprise.
"You were?"
"A little. But then I remembered what you said this morning."
"...Which part?"
"'I like when you get excited.'"
Your smile grew.
"So I figured..." He shrugged. "...if one person already understood what I was trying to say...maybe everyone else would too."
Your heart melted a little.
"Baby..."
"What?"
"I'm really proud of you."
He ducked his head with a shy smile.
"...Thanks."
Without really thinking about it, you scooted a little closer until your shoulder rested against his. Martin smiled to himself before naturally slipping an arm around you. You fit there so easily now…like it had always been your spot. Outside, unexpected rain had begun tapping softly against the windows.
That didn’t matter thought because inside the apartment felt impossibly warm.
After a comfortable moment of silence, you looked up at him.
"So..."
He looked down.
"Mhm?"
"What was your favorite question?"
Martin didn't even have to think.
"Wonhee's. It was about intelligent life. It let me explain that extraterrestrial life doesn't have to mean civilizations."
You smiled.
"I like that answer."
"You too?"
"Mhm."
"I think it makes your argument stronger."
Martin looked at you for a second before laughing quietly.
"What?”
“You sound like one of the judges."
You giggled softly before looking back at the TV. The movie continued playing quietly in the background, but neither of you were really watching it anymore. Martin absentmindedly intertwined his fingers with yours.
"...Can I ask you something?"
"Always."
He hesitated.
"Do..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "...Do you actually think aliens exist?"
You thought about it. Long enough that Martin waited patiently. Finally...you smiled.
"I think...you've convinced me that it's possible."
Martin grinned.
"I'll take that."
"But."
He laughed.
"There's always a 'but.'"
"I don't think they're the green guys we usually see in movies."
Martin nodded solemnly.
"That's fair."
"And..." You poked his side. "I definitely also don't think you're an alien. I assume you considered that."
He gasped dramatically.
"You don't?"
"No."
"What if I'm just really good at blending in?"
You pretended to study him for a moment.
"Hmm..."
He tried very hard to keep a straight face. You gently reached up and brushed a piece of hair away from his forehead.
"No." You smiled. "I think you're wonderfully, undeniably human."
Martin's expression softened.
"...That's a good answer."
The room grew quiet again. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath the fabric of his sweatshirt. You both simply sat together while rain tapped against the windows and animated lanterns floated across the television screen. Then, completely out of nowhere Martin spoke.
"...You know."
You smiled into his hoodie.
"Mhm?"
"If we ever did meet aliens..."
You laughed before he even finished.
"I knew this wasn't over."
"They'd probably think Disney movies are weird."
You looked up at him, slightly offended at the Disney shade.
"Why?"
"Because imagine trying to explain Cars."
You burst into laughter.
"Oh, come on."
"I'm serious!"
"Out of every Disney movie you picked Cars?"
"It's a valid point."
"It is not."
"It is!”
You laughed so hard your eyes began to water, and Martin couldn't help laughing too. Eventually, the laughter faded into quiet smiles. He looked down at you.
"So...still proud of your alien enthusiast?"
You reached up and cupped his cheek.
"So proud."
His smile was small. The kind that only ever seemed to appear around you.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
Outside, the universe stretched endlessly beyond the clouds. Full of mysteries no one had answered yet. Maybe Martin was right.
Maybe somewhere among countless stars, life was waiting to be discovered. But for now, curled together on a worn apartment couch and arguing over Disney movies, Martin decided he didn't mind waiting.
After all, he already had his favorite place in the universe.
Right here beside you.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: I got to writing this right after releasing “Strawberry Milk” so I hope you enjoy!! It was Avery goofy topic to write about so thank you so much for requesting!! Stay tuned for the next one!
hey I see you’ve been writing for cortis now so I have a request if you don’t mind. can you maybe do like nerd reader with popular boy seonghyeon or James where the reader is like really shy, smart and has a crush on them but doesn’t think she has a chance because she’s a nerd and not popular.
Thank you so much if you do this and also how have you been recently! I hope everything been going great for you 🫰
Strawberry Milk
Pairing: popular!James × shyNerd!reader
Genre: Fluff, college AU, friends to lovers, comedy, romance,
Synopsis: When a month-long class project unexpectedly pairs the two of you together, James thinks it's the greatest thing that's ever happened to him. You, meanwhile, are convinced the most popular guy on campus is simply being kind to you. But soon enough…James finds himself documenting every little thing about you in a Notes app he never intended anyone else to see.
Warning(s): Social anxiety, brief secondhand embarrassment, excessive pining, James being utterly whipped 🥹
Word Count: ~7.1k+
A/N: Hai! It’s been a little bit hasn’t it? I had a birthday celebration and was busy for most of the weekend, so my apologies! This is a request I got and I thought it was SO CUTE!! I decided not to focus too much on the fact that James is considered popular, but more on their dynamic. Enjoy my loves!
(I just wanted to say that after writing this, I feel like it doesn’t answer the prompt properly. I’m so sorry I couldn’t do it exactly how you requested and I can work on another if it’s not what you were looking for.)
Edit: Also, I just saw that you asked how I was! I am doing alright, but I have to go back to school next month and I’m highkey dreading it…but I celebrated my birthday recently and it was pretty fun! Thank you so much for asking! 🤍
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
The first thing everyone learned about you (including James) wasn't your name. It was that you were a little terrifying. You weren’t mean, no, and neither did you raise your voice. Actually...it was quite the opposite.
You were almost impossibly quiet. Whenever professors asked questions, your hand would rise with careful confidence while the rest of your body seemed determined to disappear into your chair. Your answers were always right, don’t get me wrong. But by the second month of the semester, people had stopped competing with you to answer.
There wasn't much point honestly. You finished assignments days early, tutored underclassmen twice a week, color-coded your lecture notes, and your backpack always for some reason had anything anyone needed. Some people even wondered if there was some sort of convenience store in it.
If somebody whispered, “Does anyone understand question four?"
The answer was almost always “Ask Y/N."
You never minded helping though. You just wished people wouldn't ask while twenty other students were watching.
♡
James, on the other hand, was quite impossible not to notice. He was the kind of person that just stood out amongst a crowd. He greeted security guards by name, and knew like half the campus (if not more) without looking like he was trying. He was definitely…comfortable…to say the least. Comfortable speaking, comfortable laughing, and comfortable existing in a way you had never figured out how to do.
You'd spoken exactly three sentences to him. All three had been variations of, “Sorry." And every single time, he'd…smile.
And you'd spent the rest of the day wondering if he'd simply smiled because that's what he did with everyone. That’s probably the case.
Right?
♡
James had a problem. A very VERY large one. One that had begun months ago and only seemed to get progressively get worse.
He knew exactly when it started though. January 14th. The first day of the semester.
Attendance was being taken, and the professor had looked down at the roster.
"...Y/N L/N?"
He could only hear a quiet-
"...Here."
James hadn't even turned around. He'd only heard your voice. Soft…gentle…almost swallowed by the lecture hall. For some reason, he remembered it. He didn't know why. He just did. It was just so…calming to him.
And somehow, months later, he formed this little crush that couldn't stop him from noticing you.
♡
Nobody knew. Not Martin, not Juhoon, not Keonho, and not Seonghyeon. Not a single one of his friends. As far as everyone else was concerned, James had never had a crush in his entire life. Yeah, and he intended to keep it that way. Because if Martin ever found out, he'd NEVER hear the end of it. So James did what any perfectly normal twenty-year-old college student would do.
He opened the Notes app, created a folder, and titled it-
“Things About Y/N”
It was just his little…journal. Keeping a physical diary would be way too dangerous considering he roomed with Martin at the dormitory. The first entry was embarrassingly simple.
January 14
I finally learned her name today.
Then came another. Then another. Then another. Not paragraphs, but like small little snippets of when he notices or learns something about you. The things he didn't want to forget.
♡
It had been months since this started. Today's entry though, had been short.
April 2
She bites her lip when she’s thinking or before answering questions.
He smiled to himself, locked his phone, and slid it back into his pocket just as Martin dropped into the seat beside him.
"What're you smiling at?"
James didn't even blink.
"...Nothing."
Martin narrowed his eyes.
"Hm."
James calmly uncapped his pen. The conversation moved on, and his secret remained exactly that. A secret.
For now.
♡
The following Tuesday your professor walked into class carrying a stack of folders.
Immediately, the room filled with a chorus of groans.
"Oh no."
"Please don't say project."
"I can't do another presentation."
The professor smiled.
"It is, in fact, another presentation."
Collective suffering. You quietly looked down at your notebook. Group projects always made your stomach hurt. The work wasn’t that problem though. Frankly, you enjoyed researching. It was because of the people…and the talking…
"I've already assigned partners. This will be a semester long project, so get to know them well."
You swallowed. Great. You were hoping on the fact that maybe you could work by yourself.
The professor adjusted his glasses before beginning to read. One pair after another, people slowly moved across the room. You waited for your name to be called, and across the room, James barely listened.
Until-
"...James." He looked up. "...Y/N."
Time...actually stopped. Like James felt like genuinely throwing his hands in the air and screaming. On the outside...
"...Alright."
On the inside?
OH MY GOODNESS I FEEL SO GIDDY I SERIOUSLY GET TO WORK WITH Y/N HOLY COW.
Across the room, you froze too. Of course. Of course you'd been paired with him. Out of everyone.
Someone near the back let out a low whistle.
"Dang."
Another laughed.
"Bro got the quiet one."
A couple people chuckled. Heat immediately rushed to your face. You hated that. Being reduced to...”The quiet one." You instinctively tightened your grip around your notebook.
Before you could convince yourself to apologize for existing, James looked over his shoulder.
"I'm pretty sure she's carrying me."
Nobody had anything to say after that. You slowly looked up at him.
"...Thank you."
The words came out so softly you weren't sure he'd even heard them. You were okay with that though. But…he had.
He smiled.
"No problem."
And just like that, he walked over to the empty desk beside yours and sat down. You stared at him for a second longer than you probably should have. Maybe he wasn't just being polite. Or maybe...he was.
You still couldn't quite tell. UGH.
♡
The classroom slowly emptied around the two of you. Backpacks zipped, chairs scraped against the floor, and conversations drifted farther down the hallway until only a handful of students remained gathering their things. You happened to be one of them. James adjusted the strap of his backpack before glancing toward your desk. You were still standing there, notebook hugged tightly against your chest. It looked almost as if… you were waiting for everyone else to leave first.
He smiled to himself before mustering up all his courage and walking over.
"Hey."
Your shoulders jumped almost imperceptibly before you looked up.
"...Hai."
For a moment, silence enveloped the both of you. You stared at each other like you were both waiting for the other person to say something. James started by clearing his throat.
"So...our project."
You nodded quickly.
"...Right."
Another tiny pause.
"I was thinking we could maybe meet after school tomorrow?" he suggested. “If...that works for you."
You nodded almost immediately.
"Okay."
"Library?"
"...Mhm."
"Four?"
"...That works."
James smiled.
"Awesome."
You gave a tiny nod before quietly turning toward the door.
"...See you tomorrow."
"You too."
He watched you disappear into the hallway as he stood there…
…grinning. Like an idiot.
♡
The library was almost completely silent the following afternoon. Well, I guess that’s how it’s supposed to be. Late sunlight spilled through the tall windows, warming the wooden tables that had become unofficial territory for students trying to survive classes and NOT claw their eyeballs out.
James arrived ten minutes early. Mostly because he absolutely refused to be the one making you wait. He'd barely sat down before he heard the soft sound of footsteps. You were right on time. Actually, one minute early.
"...Hi."
You carefully pulled out the chair across from him.
"Hai.”
Your backpack slid gently onto the floor before you sat down.
"...Um..."
Not wasting any time, you opened your laptop, clicked a folder, and opened a Google Doc. Then, you quietly turned the screen toward him.
"...I...I wasn't sure how you'd want to organize everything. So...I made..." Your voice grew quieter. "...A few ideas."
James looked down. The loading circle spun. And spun. And...kept spinning. His eyebrows slowly lifted.
"...Twelve pages?"
Your face immediately warmed.
"I-I know. It probably looks like too much. I just…you don't have to use all of it." You sighed, looking down. “I just thought if we had different options then maybe-"
"You did all of this..." James glanced at the timestamp. "...Since yesterday?"
You looked down at your hands.
"...yes."
Silence. James slowly scrolled. An introduction, a second introduction, an alternate introduction, research notes, reference links, charts, a timeline, a- what?! A color-coded sections?! James glanced up briefly before continuing. There was also a page titled Possible Questions Our Professor Might Ask…and another titled Backup Information If We Finish Early.
He looked back up at you properly.
"...You're incredible."
You blinked.
"...Thank you."
Your cheeks pinkened immediately afterward. You ducked your head, pretending to straighten papers that were already perfectly aligned. James couldn't stop smiling.
"I mean it. It’s…wow. I was going to make one tonight."
"...Oh."
"I thought...maybe you already had. But I figured it'd be easier if-"
He laughed softly.
"You've basically already carried the project."
Immediately, you shook your head.
"No. I don't...I don't want to do it by myself."
The words surprised even you. You fiddled nervously with the edge of your notebook.
"I just...I get nervous presenting…So…I wanted...to make sure we'd both know everything."
James's smile softened. It wasn't about getting a good grade, you were trying to make sure he felt prepared too. That made the twelve pages even sweeter to him.
He leaned forward slightly.
"Okay. Then let's do this together."
You finally looked up again.
"...Okay."
"Yeah."
"I'll actually read all twelve pages."
Your eyes widened.
"...All of them?"
"Every single one."
A tiny laugh escaped you before you could stop it. Barely louder than a whisper. James felt something in his chest jump. There it was. Your laugh. The first one he'd ever heard.
In that moment, he knew without question that he'd happily read another hundred pages if it meant hearing it again.
♡
From that day on, the library became your routine. Every Tuesday and Thursday, same table, same seats, and same two drinks. James always showed up with an iced americano since he believed coffee was the only thing pumping through his veins. You on the other hand, always had a carton of strawberry milk beside your notebook before opening your laptop. Somewhere between color-coded outlines, shared textbooks, and whispered conversations...James stopped looking forward to finishing the project. Because when the project would end, he wouldn’t have an excuse to see you.
…And he wasn't entirely sure he was ready for that.
♡
Three study sessions later, James had discovered something. Actually, several things.
One, you always arrived three minutes early.
Two, you preferred sitting by the windows because "the lighting's nicer." And three, the quiet girl who barely spoke in class, completely nerded OUT the second someone mentioned science.
♡
"...So," James began carefully, looking down at one of the articles you'd sent him, "I actually had a question."
You looked up from your notebook almost immediately.
"...Okay."
He tapped a paragraph with the end of his pencil.
"I understand why the molecules are polar. So...why does that actually matter?"
Your pencil stopped moving.
"...Wait. You...read this?"
James smiled.
"I told you I would."
"...Yeah, but...you actually read it."
"I highlighted stuff."
He turned the page of the textbook to show you his tiny yellow streaks decorating the margins and a few sticky notes poking out from the top. You stared for a second.
"...You highlighted."
"I thought that's what people who know what they're doing do."
A tiny smile escaped you.
"No...I thought that's just…what I do."
"Oh." He looked down at the pages. "...Have I accidentally become you?"
Your shoulders shook with a quiet laugh.
"I don't think so."
"Good. I don't think I could color-coordinate notes as well as you."
You hid another smile behind your strawberry milk.
♡
A little while later, you reached across the table and pulled the article a little closer.
"Okay. So...you remember how we talked about electronegativity?"
James nodded.
"...Kind of."
"It's alright. I'll explain it differently."
You grabbed one of your highlighters and started drawing little circles, arrows, and tiny diagrams. As you explained, your voice gradually became steadier. And even…louder. Your hands moved naturally across the page.
"...So if this atom pulls harder...then the electrons spend more time over here. And because they aren't shared equally...that's what creates polarity."
James wasn't even looking at the paper anymore. He was looking at you and how your eyes had completely changed. They weren't nervous. If anything, they were bright and excited. Like you'd forgotten to be shy in the moment.
"...Then," you continued, "that's why water behaves differently from..." You paused since James hadn't answered. "...James?"
He blinked.
"Hm?"
"...Did...did that make sense?"
He realized he'd been staring.
"Oh. Yeah. It made perfect sense." A beat. "...You're really pretty when you explain things."
Silence. James froze.
“…”
"...I meant passionate."
"..."
"...Not that you aren't pretty."
"..."
"...Forget I spoke."
Your face turned pink so quickly it looked painful. You quickly went back to your shy self and slowly looked down at your notebook.
"...Thank…you."
James covered his face with one hand.
Great. Smooth. Real fucking smooth.
♡
That night, James sat cross-legged on his bed. His textbook lay open in front of him completely untouched. Instead, his Notes app was open.
Things About Y/N
He scrolled to the bottom before adding a new entry.
April 14
She gets excited talking about science. She uses her hands when she's explaining something. I also accidentally called her pretty but for some reason she didn't run away.
He stared at the last sentence. Then sighed dramatically.
"...I'm unbelievable."
He locked his phone. Only for it to buzz almost immediately. Martin.
Martinnie 🤓 :
You alive?
Hyung Jam:
Yeah.
Three dots appeared instantly.
Martinnie 🤓:
Weird question.
Martinnie 🤓:
You dating anybody?
James frowned.
Hyung Jam:
No?
Another bubble.
Martinnie 🤓:
Hm. Okay.
James stared at the screen. That was…oddly suspicious.
♡
The next afternoon, Martin wandered into the kitchen carrying a bowl of half-eaten cereal. James sat at the island with his phone in one hand…smiling. He wasn’t even typing anything, he was just…smiling.
Martin slowed.
"...You dating somebody?"
James looked up immediately.
"What?"
"You've been smiling at your phone for like...thirty seconds."
James instinctively locked the screen.
"...No."
Martin narrowed his eyes.
"What were you looking at?"
James internally panicked, but before his brain had any chance to stop it, his mouth blurted out-
"...The weather."
Martin blinked once.
"...Pardon?"
James froze.
"...I mean..."
He looked toward the window as if inspiration might be floating outside.
"...It's supposed to be...around sixty tomorrow. So…we got some nice weather coming..."
Martin simply stared.
"...You're smiling at the fact it will be sixty degrees?"
James nodded far too confidently.
"...Love a good forecast."
Another long silence. Martin slowly picked up his cereal bowl.
"...You're so messed up, man."
He walked out of the kitchen still looking over his shoulder. James waited until he disappeared around the corner before quietly unlocking his phone again to open his Notes app.
The newest entry stared back at him.
He smiled.
"...Definitely the weather."
♡
The rest of the semester seemed to settle into a rhythm. Tuesday and Thursday at 4:00 you’d meet at the library. It became less of an appointment and more of an expectation between the two of you. James never had to text to ask if you were coming, and you never had to wonder if he'd already be there. Somehow...he always was though.
♡
Some afternoons were incredibly productive. Others...
"...We've been staring at the same paragraph for six minutes."
James looked up from his textbook.
"...Have we?"
You nodded once.
"...You haven't turned the page."
"...Right." He looked down. "...I was...thinking."
"...About our presentation?"
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"...Sure."
You weren't entirely convinced, but you let it go.
♡
Another Tuesday, James arrived balancing two drinks. One iced americano and one strawberry milk. You blinked.
"...You didn’t have to get that..."
He looked down at the little carton before setting it beside your notebook.
"I figured if we're going to spend three hours talking about molecules, we should probably stay hydrated."
Your fingers gently wrapped around it.
"...Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me."
“I still will…”
He laughed.
"Of course."
♡
Eventually, the studying became interrupted by conversations that had absolutely nothing to do with science anymore. Or your presentation.
"...You organize your playlists alphabetically?"
You nodded.
"...It's easier."
James stared.
"...I don't even think my playlists have names."
"...Then...how do you find songs?"
"I don't."
"...Oh."
"I just skip until I accidentally discover one."
You looked genuinely horrified.
"...That sounds...stressful."
"I think it's exciting."
"I think it's chaos."
"It can be both."
♡
One afternoon, rain tapped softly against the library windows. The two of you had finished reviewing nearly an hour earlier but neither of you packed up. James absentmindedly spun his pencil between his fingers.
"...Can I ask you something?"
You looked up.
"...Mhm."
"Why science?"
Your eyes drifted toward the rain outside.
"...I don't know.” A tiny pause. "...I like that...there's usually an answer."
James listened quietly.
"...People are complicated too." You smiled faintly. "...Atoms are a little easier. To me at least."
He nodded slowly.
"...That makes sense."
"...What about you?"
"Hm?"
"Why did you take this science class?"
James leaned back in his chair.
"I honestly thought it'd make me sound smarter."
You stared at him.
"...You're joking."
"I am not unfortunately."
Another tiny laugh escaped you and James smiled while leaning back.
♡
Over time, little things became familiar between the two of you. James learned that you tucked loose strands of hair behind your ear a lot since your bangs were at that in between length. You learned that James always tapped his pencil against the table whenever he was trying to remember something, almost as if it was a memory recall habit. He also stopped pretending he didn't enjoy strawberry milk, and you admitted iced americanos "...weren't completely terrible."
The project slowly transformed from twelve pages...to eighteen…and then twenty-three. By the end, everything written was so detailed that you both thought it would be nearly impossibly to create explanatory presentation slides about it. But it had to be done…so you guys powered through.
♡
The afternoon before your presentation arrived much sooner than either of you wanted. James was already sitting at your usual table when you walked into the library.
"...Hey."
"Hai." You smiled a little more easily these days. "...Ready?"
He dramatically dropped his forehead onto the table.
"...Absolutely not."
A tiny giggle escaped you.
"I don't think that's a very good presentation posture."
"I'm practicing for when I pass out in the middle of the presentation."
"You won't."
"You seem awfully confident."
"I am." You opened your laptop. “...Because I know you'll do well."
James looked up.
"...You really think so?"
You blinked.
"...Yeah."
"As in...you're not just saying that?"
You shook your head.
"...You've worked really hard."
James felt like the world just got brighter and he could fly right now from happiness.
"...Thanks."
Your cheeks warmed.
"...You're welcome."
The two of you spent the next hour rehearsing. Transitions, describing statistics, and showing the diagrams. During the fifth run-through, James had accidentally skipped an entire section from nerves. You immediately looked up.
"...James."
"Hm?"
"...You skipped slide seven."
"...Did I?"
"You did."
"...Maybe nobody will notice."
"That’s the slide with the most information."
"...uhh."
You covered your mouth, trying to hide another laugh.
"I knew you'd catch it."
"You did that on purpose?"
He grinned.
"I wanted to make sure you were paying attention."
You stared at him for a moment before softly shaking your head.
"...You're unbelievable."
"So I've been told."
The library night lights flickered on as evening settled outside. You'd stayed nearly an hour longer than usual.
Eventually, you closed your laptop.
"...I think...we're ready."
James nodded.
"...Yeah."
Neither of you stood for a moment, staring at each other a little longer. Finally, you slipped your notebook into your backpack, standing up.
"...I'll see you tomorrow."
"...Tomorrow." He smiled. "...We'll do okay."
James watched you disappear between the bookshelves before quietly looking down at the now-empty table. Tomorrow would be the last reason he'd have to sit across from you.
...Unless he found another one.
♡
The next morning, the classroom buzzed with the usual nervous energy. Laptops clicked open, note cards shuffled between shaky hands, and your classmate near the back, Anton, quietly muttered-
"I'm actually going to throw up."
James glanced over at what he said and looked back at you.
"...Honestly? Same."
You looked at him.
"...Really?"
He nodded once.
"Absolutely."
You tilted your head.
"...You don't seem nervous."
"I'm an excellent actor, I’ll have you know."
Your professor swung the door open and walked to the front of the room.
"Good morning, everyone." The conversations slowly faded. "We have our seven groups presenting today."
Your stomach immediately tightened, and James noticed. Quietly, he gently nudged your elbow with his own, causing you to look over.
"We've got this."
"...Mhm."
"You don't believe me."
"...I'm trying to."
He smiled.
"That's enough for now. If you believe it, it’s true."
♡
One group presented after another, and each time your professor called a new pair of names, your heartbeat climbed a little higher. James quietly leaned over.
"...We're last I believe."
You blinked.
"...Really?"
"Looks like it."
You let out the tiniest sigh.
"...That gives me more time to panic."
"I was hoping you'd say 'prepare.'"
"...No."
He laughed quietly.
"...Fair enough."
♡
By the time the sixth group finished, the classroom had grown noticeably quieter.
Everyone looked exhausted and beat down, rightfully so.
Your professor glanced down at the roster.
"And finally..." He looked up. "James and Y/N."
Your fingers tightened around the presentation remote that the previous group just handed you. James stood first before quietly looking back toward you.
"You ready?"
You slowly stood.
"...Not really."
He smiled.
"...Good."
You blinked.
"...Why good? That’s not good."
"Because neither am I."
Something about that made your shoulders relax just a little. Together, the two of you walked toward the front of the room.
♡
The first slide appeared on the screen and you swallowed. James glanced over almost slightly and gave one tiny nod. Almost like...
“You're okay.”
You took a slow breath.
"...Good morning, everyone."
Your voice came out quieter than you intended, but it was steady. By the second slide, it was stronger. James spoke effortlessly, just as you expected, but what surprised you was how naturally he included you. Instead of taking over and controlling the presentation whenever you hesitated, he waited. And when someone asked a question, he'd glance toward you first. Almost as if he was letting you take the lead and saying, “Go ahead.”
And every single time, you answered.
Halfway through the presentation, your professor raised a hand.
"Actually..." He leaned forward slightly. "Could you explain why that reaction behaves differently under those conditions?"
You immediately recognized the question. It had been on page eleven. The page you'd spent almost twenty minutes explaining to James during one of your study sessions. You smiled ever so slightly, eyes sparkling brighter.
"...Of course."
Without looking at your notes, you began explaining. Electron movement, polarity, intermolecular forces…you even found yourself using the tiny hand motions you'd always made while studying. When you finished, the room stayed quiet for a second. You were exactly sure if it was because they were tired, what you said was boring, or what…but your professor smiled.
"Excellent explanation Y/N."
You blinked.
"...Thank you."
The presentation continued without a single stumble. The two of you were doing great, and it seemed as if you had memorized not only your own parts, but each other's as well.
♡
"...And that concludes our presentation." James smiled toward the class. "Thank you for listening, do you have any questions?”
There was a pause of silent, but suddenly…several classmates actually applauded. Enough to make both of you look up in surprise. Your professor smiled warmly.
"Excellent work." He looked between the two of you. "Very organized, very well researched, and both of you demonstrated an excellent understanding of the material." He glanced back toward the class. "I'd actually encourage everyone to take another look at how they handled transitions between speakers. They were seamless."
You looked over at James, but he was already looking at you. A grin slowly spread across his face, and you couldn't help smiling back.
"...We did it." He whispered toward you.
"We did."
♡
As everyone began packing their bags, James stayed behind to unplug the laptop from the projector. Quickly he took out his phone and started typing something.
You knelt beside your backpack, carefully organizing your papers into neat stacks before sliding them into a folder.
"I'll...wait outside for you."
James looked over his shoulder.
"Oh." He smiled. "No, it’s okay you go! I have some stuff to take care of."
"...a-alright. Bye James, good job today."
You gave him one last small smile before slipping out into the hallway. James watched the classroom door quietly swing shut behind you, and he turned back toward the podium.
"Alright..." He gathered the HDMI cable into a loose loop. "Laptop..." Click. "Pointer..." Into the bag. "Cable..." Untangled.
Behind him, another pair of footsteps approached.
"...Need a hand?"
James looked up.
"Oh." He laughed. "Sure, thanks."
Martin walked over, reaching for the projector remote lying on the podium.
"No problem."
James continued packing everything away while Martin absentmindedly straightened a few papers that had been left behind. Then, his eyes landed on an unlocked phone with the…Notes app open?
Martin frowned.
"...Huh."
He reached down, intending to hand the phone back before James even noticed he'd left it behind.
"...You forgot your-"
His words caught in his throat. The screen was still awake. The Notes app filled the display, and at the very top sat a folder title.
Things About Y/N
Martin blinked.
"...Huh??" His eyebrows slowly climbed higher as he repeated the word. "No way..."
Curiosity won. Just a tiny peek…right? Surely it couldn't be what he thought it was. It was probablyyyy about some other random Y/N.
He tapped the folder. Immediately, a list of dated entries filled the screen.
April 18
She still says "Hai" every single time she sees me and I don't think she'll ever realize it makes my entire day oh my gosh
Martin's mouth slowly fell open.
"...Hyung."
Across the room, James was still trying to untangle one stubborn projector cable.
"Hm?"
"You should...come here."
James didn't look up.
"...Give me one second."
Martin stared at the phone again. Oh my gosh, there was an entire list of entries. He couldn't help himself but to just…
April 15
She laughed four times today. Yes, I counted. I’m so happy I’ve seen the way her eyes sparkle when she’s laughing
Martin inhaled sharply through his nose.
“Sparkle…?” He mumbled to himself. "...Hyung."
This time, there was something in his voice that made James finally look over.
"...Yeah?"
Martin slowly turned the phone around so the screen faced him. James's eyes landed on it, and at the moment his soul physically left his body.
fuck.
"...Martin."
"Oh my gosh."
"Martin."
"What is this a diary??"
"Martin."
"You've been DOCUMENTING HER?!"
James abandoned the cables immediately.
"Give me my phone."
Martin instinctively took one giant step backward.
"...No."
"Martin."
"’I learned her name today’?!"
"PLEASE STOP READING THEM."
"I'm trying!"
"YOU ARE NOT TRYING!"
James lunged at him, but Martin sidestepped him effortlessly.
"Oh my gosh!"
James nearly crashed into the podium before spinning back around.
"Give it back!"
Martin lifted the phone above his head.
"...Hyung. You are literally writing a romance novel."
James jumped again and Martin simply raised his arm higher.
"You are unfairly tall."
"I've been telling you that for years."
"Martin!"
"You wrote-" He squinted at another entry. "'She accidentally fell asleep while reading and there was a highlighter mark on her cheek.'" He looked up. "...WHY ARE YOU STARING AT HER CHEEK?"
James buried his face in both hands, cheeks growing warmer and pinker.
"...Please."
Martin looked back at the phone.
"'She smiled at me before class today.', 'She likes sitting by the windows because the lighting's nicer.', 'She gave me strawberry milk.'…”He slowly lowered the phone. "...Dude."
James stood frozen a few feet away, cheeks burning so brightly he was convinced he'd probably just have to die in that very moment to escape the feelings that were overwhelming him.
"...I know."
"No..." Martin looked at him with an expression James couldn't quite read. "...You've liked her for months."
James swallowed hard and was silent for a moment. Eventually, he quietly nodded.
"...Yeah." He said softly, almost to the point Martin couldn’t hear him.
Martin glanced down at the phone one last time before locking it and finally holding it out. James snatched it back so quickly it almost fell out of Martin’s hands. For a moment neither of them spoke. Then Martin shoved both hands into his pockets.
"...You know what's funny?"
James groaned.
"I don't think I want to know what you find funny right now.”
"I thought you legit were smiling at weather forecasts the other day."
James closed his eyes.
"...Don't."
"I thought you were just insanely passionate about a sixty-degree weather prediction."
"...Martin."
"Or maybe clouds were your type."
Despite himself, James let out one defeated laugh.
"...yeah I’m…not living that down."
"Nope!"
Another quiet silence settled between them, and Martin's smile softened.
"...Seriously though." James looked up. "...Go tell her."
"What?"
"You already wrote..." He gestured vaguely toward the phone in James's hand. "...All of this cringe stuff."
He shrugged.
"Now all you have to do is say one sentence."
James looked down at the phone as his thumb brushed against the edge of the case.
"...What if she says no?"
Martin smiled.
"Then you'll survive. You know the boys and I will help you." A beat. "But..." He nudged James's shoulder. "...After reading all of that?" He nodded toward the classroom door where you'd disappeared only a few minutes earlier. "I think it'd be pretty crazy if she did."
James stared at the door for a long moment before quietly slipping his phone back into his pocket.
"...Maybe."
Martin grinned.
"Not maybe." He started walking toward the exit before looking back over his shoulder. "...Tomorrow."
James blinked.
"...Tomorrow?"
"You've spent three months writing about her.” Martin pointed toward him. "I'm giving you exactly one day to stop writing..." A smile spread across his face. "...and start talking."
♡
James slept terribly.
It wasn’t the lingering adrenaline of the presentation or…upcoming finals…or Martin graciously humming wedding music the entire walk back to the dorm every time he looked in his direction.
No. It was because of the “one sentence” he was supposed to say to you.
Would you perhaps want to grab a coffee with me?
Too formal oh my gosh this isn’t the Victorian era.
You wanna grab coffee sometime?
Too casual that makes me sound like a fuck boy.
I've actually liked you for months now. Way before the project.
Yeah that sounds great. Serenade her by sounding like I’ve been stalking her since the dawn of time.
James buried his face in his pillow. What if coffee isn’t even the right move?!
"...I'm fuckeddddd."
From across the room, Martin didn't even look up from his textbook.
"Talking to your pillow again?"
"I'm thinking."
"No." Martin turned a page. "You're panicking. I can smell the fear radiating off of you."
"...Maybe."
Martin huffed out a breath.
"No, definitely."
♡
The following afternoon, your feet carried you toward the library before your brain really had time to think about it. It was like a habit that couldn’t be broken.
Halfway there, you slowed. The project was over. You didn't actually need to be here anymore.
"...Huh." You looked toward the familiar entrance before quietly smiling to yourself. "...Maybe I'll just...read for a little while."
♡
James arrived less than a minute later. Mostly because his feet had apparently made the exact same decision as yours. He stopped just outside the entrance.
"...Why am I here?" A beat. "...Right." He sighed. "...Because today’s the day my life crumbles."
Taking one last steadying breath, he stepped inside. The library was just as quiet as always. Sunlight stretching across the wooden tables while students whispered over open textbooks.
He took a deep breath as his eyes landed on the table by the windows. The table that you guys had been working at for the past semester.
You…were already sitting there with book laying open in front of you and a strawberry milk rested beside it. James smiled before he even realized he was doing it.
"...Of course."
♡
You looked up at the familiar sound of footsteps.
"...Hi there Y/N."
There it was. James felt every practiced sentence he'd rehearsed the night before immediately disappear from the face of the earth.
"H-Hai." James said a little bit loud, lifting his hand to greet you.
Some students from other tables glanced over, a little confused by the sudden loudness.
‘Super smooth James why don’t we bring in a mariachi band and confess our love in song form next time.’ He thought while internally beating himself up.
He walked a little closer anyway, being mindful of speaking softer despite his nerves skyrocketing through the roof.
"...Mind if I sit?"
You blinked.
"...You don't have to ask."
"...Right." He laughed awkwardly. “I guess I don't."
He pulled out the chair across from you. For a few moments, you just stared at each other. Since the project concluded, there were no laptops, no textbooks, and no diagrams. It felt strangely...different. You were the first to break the silence.
"...It feels weird."
James looked up.
"...Yeah."
"...I keep thinking we forgot something."
"I know." He smiled. "I almost brought our presentation folder."
Your lips curved into a small smile.
"...Really?"
“Yeah…”
Another quiet silence settled between the two of you. James glanced toward the window before looking back at you. He could hear Martin's voice echoing in his head.
I'm giving you exactly one day.
His palms felt warm as his body started to get nervous.
"...Actually..."
You looked up.
"...Mhm?"
"I..."
He felt that in his moment he wanted to just crash through the window and try again another day. Why was this so…hard? He took a deep breath before continuing.
"I had a question."
You instinctively reached for your notebook.
"Oh." You opened it. "...Which chapter?"
James couldn't help huffing out a small laugh.
"No."
"...No?"
"It isn't about science."
You paused, slowly closing your notebook again before sliding it away.
"...Okay."
James rubbed the back of his neck.
"So..." He took a deep breath. "I know the project's over."
"...Mhm."
"And...I was wondering..." His heartbeat was so loud he was convinced everybody under the sun could hear how anxious he was. "...Would you maybe..." He smiled nervously, grabbing a fistful of his pants as encouragement. "...Want to get some coffee with me sometime?"
A tiny pause.
"...Like..." He looked down at the table before quietly finishing. "...As a date."
Silence filled the space between the two of you. More than the atmosphere of the library already had. James mentally began planning where he would transfer colleges before tomorrow morning.
Then-
"...I..."
Your voice came out barely above a whisper. He looked back up at the sound, and he could tell you looked almost as nervous as he felt.
"...I don't actually…like coffee all that much..."
James blinked.
"...Oh." He nodded once. "That's okay. We can uh-."
Your smile grew just a little.
"...I'd still like to go."
He stared at you for a moment, caught off guard by your response.
"...Really?"
You nodded.
"...Really."
His shoulders visibly relaxed.
"...Okay."
A tiny laugh escaped you.
"...Okay."
"...So..." James smiled. “...Hot chocolate?"
"...I like hot chocolate."
"Soda?”
"...I like soda."
"Smoothies?"
"...Very much."
He grinned.
"...Perfect."
You smiled back, shyly looking down at your hands.
"...Can I tell you something?"
James nodded immediately.
"Always."
You took a tiny breath.
"...I thought..." You smiled to yourself. "...You were just being nice to everyone."
James blinked.
"...What?"
"...When you smiled at me."
He couldn't help laughing.
"I definitely wasn't."
"...You weren't?"
He shook his head.
"No." A warm blush spread across his cheeks. "I just..." He smiled. "...Really liked seeing you."
Your face immediately turned pink.
"...Oh."
Neither of you noticed the two students a few tables over smiling to themselves as they listened to your conversation, or the librarian pretending very hard not to watch.
…or even outside where a familiar figure happened to walk past the library windows. It was Martin. He glanced inside to see James smiling across the table at you…and you smiling back. He quietly pumped his fist in success.
"...Let's go."
Then kept walking without interrupting. Some victories…were better watched from a distance.
♡
EPILOGUE - THREE MONTHS LATER
Dating James, you'd discovered, came with a few unavoidable side effects.
One, he somehow always knew when you were cold. You'd barely rub your hands together before his hoodie was already being pulled over his head.
"...James."
He held it out.
"What?"
"...You're wearing a T-shirt."
"I'll survive."
"...You'll be cold."
"I'll survive."
"…”
"...Y/N."
Slowly, you accepted it.
"...Thank you."
"You look cuter in it anyway."
Your face immediately warmed.
"...James."
"What?"
"...N…nothing."
Two, you had unintentionally accumulated a small collection of his hoodies. Mostly because he kept forgetting to take them back. Or…maybe he wasn't forgetting. You were beginning to suspect that.
And three, his friends had somehow…adopted you. In a way.
Well...they were certainly trying.
"Morning, Y/N!"
You smiled shyly from beside James.
"...Hai…Martin."
Martin beamed.
"Look!" He pointed triumphantly toward James. "She said hi to me finally!”
"...Martin."
"What?"
James sighed.
"You're scaring her."
"I'm celebrating!"
"I can feel her hiding behind me."
Sure enough, you had quietly taken one tiny step closer to James until your shoulder bumped against his arm. Martin dramatically placed a hand over his heart.
"...She's like a frightened baby deer."
James pinched the bridge of his nose, but he couldn't help huffing out a small laugh.
"Give her time."
"I am giving her time!" Martin protested. "I've known her for three months!"
"...Exactly."
"...That's a long time."
"For you, maybe."
Martin looked at you.
"...Do I look scary?"
You immediately shook your head.
"...No."
"...Do I act scary?"
You hesitated for a bit before another tiny shake.
"...No."
"...Then why do you keep standing behind James?"
You looked down at your shoes for a while as you hooked your finger onto James’ hand.
"...Habit."
Martin blinked.
"...Honestly?"
"...Mhm."
He sighed dramatically.
"I'll take it."
James smiled to himself. He knew the truth. You weren't afraid of any of the guys, but you just felt safest beside him at the moment. I mean Martin could be a little frightening sometimes…and it did take a while for you to even warm up to him in the first place. …And if he was being completely honest, he was okay with that for right now.
♡
A few days later, the two of you found yourselves back where everything had started. The library. Same table and seats…but a different reason. You sat curled slightly toward him, absentmindedly reading while wearing one of his oversized gray hoodies. Your head rested comfortably against his shoulder and James had an arm loosely wrapped around you, gently tracing little circles against your sleeve.
It was peaceful and comfortable. Home.
"...Y/N?"
"...Mhm?"
"I..." He hesitated. "...Can I show you something?"
You looked up, grabbing your bookmark and closing the book once saving your place.
"...Of course."
James suddenly wasn't sure this had been a good idea. His ears were already turning pink.
"...Promise you won't think I'm like…weird?"
You smiled.
"I don't think you're weird."
"...You haven't seen it yet."
"I still don't."
He laughed quietly.
"...Okay."
Maybe this’ll go okay? He thought.
Very slowly, he unlocked his phone and opened the Notes app. He navigated to the folder before simply handing it to you.
"...What's this?"
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"...Just...read it."
Curious, you looked down.
Things About Y/N
You blinked once before opening it. The first entry you landed on made your eyebrows lift.
She still says "Hai" every single time she sees me and I don't think she'll ever realize it makes my entire day.
A tiny smile tugged at your lips. You scrolled.
She’s so pretty when she’s focused.
Another scroll.
She thinks Calibri looks sad.
Another.
She accidentally fell asleep while reading and there was a highlighter mark on her cheek.
Another.
She gave me strawberry milk today. I like it a lot, but it might’ve been because she gave it to me.
Another.
She gets excited talking about science…and is really pretty when she forgets to be shy.
…but I mean. She’s always pretty.
You stopped. Your eyes lingered on that one a little longer than the others.
"...James."
He couldn't quite bring himself to look at you.
"...Yeah?"
"...You've been writing these...for a while." You looked up tentatively. "...How long?"
He quietly pointed upward.
"...Keep scrolling."
You did. The entries became older. Some were shorter and less frequent, some were tiny observations, and some were little moments that most people would've forgotten by now. He hadn't though. You kept scrolling.
February. January. Your thumb slowed…and then finally stopped at the very first note that sat alone at the top of the screen.
You read it once, and then again. Your eyes softened. Without saying a word, you locked his phone and gently placed it on the table.
James finally looked over.
"...So...Am I weird yet?"
Instead of answering, you reached over and wrapped both arms around him.
"...No." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "...I think..." A tiny smile found its way onto your face. "...I think it's the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."
James let out the breath he'd apparently been holding for months now.
"...Really?"
You nodded against his shoulder.
"...Really."
He smiled into your hair.
"...Good. Because I was sweating buckets the entire time you were reading those notes."
You looked up at him.
"…James..."
You looked up at him before laying it back on his chest. With his hoodie wrapped around you and your hand quietly finding his beneath the table, you picked up his phone and scrolled back to the beginning. You smiled while reading it again.
January 14
I finally learned her name today.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: This surprisingly took me a while to write!! I hope it answers this request enough…I realized after I finished writing it that I genuinely didn’t include most of the stuff you asked for I’m so sorry @thisismepls. 😭 Anyways, thank you so much for reading my loves and being so patient with my posting! 🤍
Synopsis: Traveling with CORTIS should've been routine. You've flown with the members before, you know the managers' rules, and you know exactly what to do when crowds get overwhelming. …But when one push turns into another, a familiar airport becomes terrifyingly easy to get lost in.
Warning(s): Crowd anxiety, airport chaos, minor injuries (scratches, bruises, twisted ankle), emotional distress, mentions of obsessive fans
Word Count: ~5.5k+
A/N: Hai!! So, my James fic “Baby” just reached 1k likes and I am OVERJOYED right now! I didn’t know when I posted it that it would be this loved! I decided to make a fic as a little thank you that has a similar yet relatively different plot line than baby! I hope you enjoy and thank you all for your love and support!!!
(Also, my birthday 🎂 was this past weekend, so that’s why I was inactive for a while!)
♡
The city still hadn't fully woken up yet. Streetlights were glowing softly against the predawn sky while the van hummed steadily down nearly empty roads, the only sounds inside coming from quiet conversations and the occasional yawn.
Travel days always started like this - way too early and too much coffee being chugged. You sat tucked comfortably against Martin's shoulder in the middle row, your backpack resting between your feet, and his hoodie sleeve disappeared beneath your fingers.
It had become a habit months ago. Crowded places made you nervous (airports especially since you were at them so often). Not because of flying, but because of literally everything that happened before flying. The crowds…the rushing…the noise…and the endless sea of strangers all trying to squeeze through the same minuscule spaces. Along the way, you'd started absentmindedly holding onto Martin whenever airports became overwhelming.
Usually...just his sleeve. Two fingers lightly hooked around the cuff of his hoodie, enough that if he walked, you walked too, and enough that you always knew exactly where he was.
Martin glanced down for only a second before the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. Still holding on.
Good.
"You awake?"
Your eyes stayed half closed.
"Barely."
"You've been awake for likeeee twenty minutes."
"I've had my eyes closed for twenty minutes."
He chuckled quietly.
"Different."
"Not really."
Across the aisle, James looked up from his phone.
"You two are acting unbelievably old for people in their twenties."
Martin didn't even look over.
"We're literally sitting."
"You've been sitting like an elderly married couple for forty minutes."
Juhoon snorted from the seat behind him.
"I thought they looked comfortable."
James pointed dramatically toward the two of you.
"Look at them."
Everyone looked. You slowly opened one eye.
"...Why's everyone staring?"
James gestured again.
“Y/N’s been holding onto Tin’s sleeve like…all ride…”
You laughed quietly, hiding your face against his shoulder.
"Heh…sorry..."
"I think it's cute."
The words came so casually that you were genuinely caught off guard. Your face somehow grew even warmer as James made the loudest fake gag imaginable.
"Oh my gosh I’m going to puke."
Juhoon threw a crumpled receipt at him from the back.
"Leave them alone."
"I'm trying."
"No, you're nottt."
"I really am."
"No."
Martin smiled to himself but stayed quiet, his thumb absentmindedly brushing once against the sleeve you were holding. Just enough that you noticed.
♡
By the time the van pulled beneath the airport departure overhang, the sun had finally started rising. The peaceful drive disappeared, and you knew the chaos was just about to begin.
Cars lined every curb, rolling suitcases clicked a thousand times across the pavement, announcements echoed faintly through the automatic doors, and people hurried in every direction with energy drinks balanced between passports and backpacks. It was BUSY. Not unusual for the airport though.
One of the managers turned around from the front seat.
"Alright,” Everyone's attention shifted toward him. "Masks on. Caps on. Stay together. If security asks you to move, listen. And nobody wanders off."
A chorus of lazy acknowledgements, groans, and yawns answered him. You reached into your bag for your mask, and Martin quietly waited. The second you finished adjusting it over your nose, your hand found his sleeve again. Martin noticed, obviously. I mean, he’s always the one offering his arm anyways.
He glanced down briefly before adjusting his arm just enough to make it easier for you to hold on while he reached for his suitcase with the other hand.
The airport doors slid open as cold air rushed over all of you. For exactly three seconds, everything felt normal.
Then-
"Martin!"
"Oh my gosh, it's CORTIS!"
"Guys, over here!"
The first flashes exploded from somewhere near the entrance. Then another. Another. Another. And another. Within seconds, phones were lifting into the air from every direction. People began turning, walking faster, and mobbing. More voices and more footsteps started to fill the area. The managers immediately stepped forward.
"Keep moving."
Security shifted closer around the members almost instinctively. You tightened your grip just a little around Martin's sleeve. He looked down and smiled beneath his mask.
"You good?"
You nodded once.
"Mhm."
"You sure? Just know I've got you, okay?"
He gave the smallest tug of his arm, letting you know he wasn't going anywhere. For a brief moment, your shoulders relaxed.
Then, the crowd doubled. Someone hurried past your left side, another cut between two security guards, and cameras continued flashing from literally everywhere while voices bounced loudly off the high airport ceilings. The group kept walking anyways. Slowly, but together nonetheless. You kept your eyes mostly on Martin's shoulder instead of the people surrounding you. One step after another, your fingers remained hooked around his sleeve. Safe, overall.
But then, someone slammed into your shoulder hard enough to spin you halfway sideways.
"I'm sorry-"
Before you could even finish the sentence, someone else bumped into your other side trying to squeeze past. Your balance faltered and your fingers slipped just for a second. Instinctively, you reached forward again, but another traveler cut between you and Martin at exactly the wrong moment.
Your fingertips caught nothing but air.
Was this seriously some kind of human pinball?!
♡
You weren't…THAT worried..heh. Crowded airports happened! People bumped into each other all the time, and you simply would just reach for Martin's sleeve again.
Except...he wasn't there anymore. Your fingers had caught nothing but empty air as another traveler squeezed between the two of you, pulling a large suitcase that clipped your shin just enough to make you stumble another step backward.
"...Sorry!"
You weren't even sure who had apologized.
Maybe them. Maybe you. Everything was blurred together. The security team surrounding CORTIS continued moving with the flow of people, unaware that one small gap had suddenly opened between you and Martin.
You quickly stepped sideways. Just one more person between us. I'll catch back up!
Easy. Then someone shouted-
"Move, move!"
A group hurried across the terminal from your left. You instinctively stepped back to avoid getting hit by one of their rolling suitcases. Another shoulder bumped yours. Your cap slipped lower over your eyes, and you adjusted it automatically.
By the time you looked up again...Martin was already several people ahead. Your stomach tightened.
"Martin-"
Your voice disappeared beneath dozens of others. Airport announcements echoed overhead, suitcase wheels rattled across the tile, someone laughed, someone called another passenger's name, and honestly, your own voice never stood a chance. You started weaving through people.
"Excuse me."
A businessman stepped directly in front of you.
"Sorry."
You moved around him. A family pushing two luggage carts blocked the next opening.
"Excuse me-"
Nothing. Nobody heard you. They were too busy trying to get where they needed to go.
Your heartbeat picked up. You could still see the tops of the members' caps. Not far. Just...far enough to where they couldn’t hear you.
♡
Meanwhile...Martin smiled politely toward someone calling his name from across the barrier. He gave a quick wave without slowing his pace, as the managers always preferred keeping everyone moving quickly. Less stopping meant less crowding and less chance for problems.
His arm shifted naturally. Waiting for the familiar little tug on his sleeve. There. Still there.
...Wasn't it?
Security grabbed lightly at the back of his hoodie, guiding him around another group waiting near the entrance.
He barely noticed.
♡
You almost caught back up. Almost. You spotted Juhoon's backpack, James walking just ahead, Keonho’s bright red hat, Seonghyeon’s keychain, and Martin's gray hoodie.
Relief washed over you.
"There-"
Then, everything happened at once. Just out of your AMAZING luck, some louder shout spawned somewhere behind you and several people surged forward to see what was happening. The crowd compressed. Your shoulder slammed into someone else's, someone else's backpack caught your arm, and a suitcase wheel rolled over the toe of your sneaker. You lost your footing for only half a second…but it was definitely enough. Another body accidentally collided with yours from behind and your balance disappeared completely. The world tilted speedily. Your backpack slid awkwardly off one shoulder, your phone slipped from your hand, and…BOOM. You hit the floor hard enough that your palms burned instantly against the tile.
CRACK.
The sound made your stomach drop. Before you could even worry if you were okay, your phone skipped once...twice...and then spun beneath another traveler's feet.
For a horrifying second...nobody noticed. People were still moving. Someone hurried around you, another suitcase narrowly missed your arm, and one person's long acrylic nails accidentally dragged across the back of your hand as they caught themselves from falling too. The sting came a second later.
You curled inward instinctively, protecting your head more than anything else.
"Sorry!"
"I'm so sorry!"
"I didn't see you!"
Voices. Feet. Luggage. Everything felt loud. Way too loud. Your knee throbbed, your palms stung, and your ankle protested the second you tried pushing yourself upright.
"...Ow..."
You finally managed to sit up. Your breathing had become strangely uneven. Not because you were seriously hurt but because everything had happened so quickly that your brain hadn't caught up yet.
You looked around. The members were gone. Like totally gone from sight. Hidden somewhere beyond hundreds of moving people. Your chest tightened.
"No..."
You quickly looked toward where your phone had landed face down several feet away. You crawled awkwardly toward it before another suitcase rolled over the exact spot where it had been lying.
"...Please..."
By the time you reached it, the screen looked like shattered glass. Tiny cracks spread from one corner all the way across the display.
You pressed the power button. Nothing. Again. Still nothing. Your reflection stared back through fractured black glass.
"...Seriously?"
Your voice came out much smaller than you'd expected.
♡
Up ahead, Martin's conversation with James came to an abrupt stop. Out of habit, his hand reached behind him to brush against the sleeve he'd felt tugging every few seconds since leaving the van. Nothing. His fingers met empty air. He frowned and reached again. Still nothing. He glanced over his shoulder casually at first.
Then, he stopped walking completely.
"..."
James looked back.
"What are you doing?"
Martin scanned the crowd. His eyes searched automatically for your matching cap. Your black mask. Your black hoodie. Nothing.
"...Where's Y/N?"
James blinked.
"What do you mean?"
Martin turned fully around now. The smile had completely disappeared from his face.
"...She was right behind me."
Silence. Every member looked back at once. Only strangers filled the space behind them. Martin's heartbeat dropped straight into his stomach.
"...No,” His voice was barely above a whisper. "...No, she was just here."
Without another word, he started walking back the way they'd come…only for a security guard to step directly into his path.
"Sir, we need to keep moving."
Martin looked at him like he hadn't even processed the sentence.
"My girlfriend's back there."
"We understand, but-“
"No," His answer came instantly. "I need to go back."
The manager stepped in immediately.
"Martin."
"She got separated."
"I’m aware."
"I need to go."
"We're already contacting airport security."
"I don't care,” His voice cracked just enough to betray how frightened he actually was. "I need to go find her."
The manager grabbed his arm before he could push farther into the growing crowd.
"Martin, listen to me. We're going to find her."
Martin's eyes never left the sea of people behind them. Because somewhere in it…you were alone. He couldn’t imagine how you felt when you saw him walk away obliviously.
For the first time since he'd met you, he had absolutely no way to get to you.
♡
The next few minutes passed in a blur. Once you got up, you weren't entirely sure where you were walking anymore. All you knew was you needed to get away from the middle of the terminal where people continued rushing in every direction.
Every step sent a dull ache through your right ankle…not enough to stop you, but enough to make you wince. You adjusted your backpack higher on your shoulder before limping farther down a quieter connecting hallway that branched away from the main departures entrance. The difference was immediate. Crowds thinned and the constant shouting faded into distant echoes. For the first time since being separated...you could actually hear yourself think.
You leaned briefly against the wall, closing your eyes.
"...Okay."
One deep breath…then another. Your hands still trembled as your gaze drifted back toward your phone. Still black…still lifeless.
"...Come on..."
You pressed the power button again. Nothing. You laughed quietly to yourself. A tired, defeated little laugh.
"Offfff course."
Your fingers carefully brushed over the shattered screen before sliding it back into your pocket. You considered sitting back down and waiting. Surely Martin would notice…and surely the managers would come looking. Right…? Your eyes wandered upward toward one of the large electronic departure boards hanging from the ceiling. Your flight number. Right there. Beside it-
BOARDING
Your heart dropped. You weren’t exactly worried about missing the flight, you just thought of Martin first.
Martin probably thinks I disappeared.
You pictured him looking over his shoulder, reaching for you, and not finding you…
You squeezed your eyes shut.
"...I'm sorry..."
The words came out small enough only you could hear it.
♡
Meanwhile, the managers had split almost immediately. One remained with the members, and the other two hurried toward airport security. Phones rang one after another while descriptions were repeated over radios.
"Female."
"Baseball cap."
"Black mask."
"Black hoodie."
"White sneakers."
"Name is Y/N."
"Traveling with CORTIS."
Airport security began checking nearby terminals, customer service desks, restrooms, restaurants, and almost anywhere someone might have wandered after becoming separated.
James watched the entire exchange unfold silently before glancing toward Martin. He hadn't moved. He stood exactly where the security guards had stopped him earlier, phone clutched tightly in one hand. Calling.
Again. Straight to voicemail. Again. Straight to voicemail. Again. Nothing.
Juhoon quietly stepped beside him.
"...Her phone?"
Martin shook his head once.
"...Dead."
"You don't know that."
"I do,” He stared blankly at his own reflection in the dark screen after another unanswered call. "...She would've answered."
♡
You pushed yourself away from the wall. One careful step, then another, and eventually the hallway opened into a quieter section of the airport. Families waiting for flights, business travelers working on their laptops, and a few children eating small snacks. It almost felt…strange in a way. Like the chaos from ten minutes ago had happened in some other dimension entirely. You slowed your pace, looking around for anyone who might know where customer assistance was.
Before you could ask, a voice spoke gently from beside you.
"Miss?" You turned. An older airport employee stood a few feet away pushing a small utility cart. His gray hair peeked out beneath an airport cap, and kind eyes settled immediately on the way you were favoring one foot. "You alright there?"
You instinctively straightened.
"I'm okay."
He looked unconvinced. His gaze dropped briefly to the scrapes and bruises on your arms and legs before returning to your face.
"...You don't look okay."
For some reason, that simple sentence nearly made your composure crack. Because…he was the first person all morning who had actually stopped. Who wasn't rushing somewhere…and who looked at you instead of through you. You looked down for a second.
"...I got separated."
"From your family?"
You hesitated.
"...ehh…sort of."
His expression softened.
"Come on,” He gestured gently down the hallway. "Walk with me. I was just making my rounds anyway."
You nodded quietly. The two of you started walking side by side at an unhurried pace. He automatically matched your slower steps without commenting on the limp. After a few moments, he reached into the pocket of his vest.
"You eaten this morning?"
You blinked.
"...What?"
Without waiting for an answer, he pulled out a small packet of airport pretzels and held it toward you.
"They're not much, but low blood sugar doesn't help stressful mornings."
For a second, you simply stared at the little blue packet. Then…slowly accepted it.
"...Thank you."
"My granddaughter likes those,” He smiled.
"Says they're better than the fancy ones."
A tiny laugh escaped before you could stop it.
"I'll trust her judgment."
"Smart girl."
The smile lingered for only a moment before he glanced over again.
"You know...my granddaughter gets that same look."
You frowned slightly.
"...What look?"
He kept his eyes ahead.
"The one that says...’I'm trying very hard to be brave.'"
Your throat tightened. You looked down at the pretzels in your hands.
"...I'm trying."
"I know,” He smiled kindly. “I can tell."
A few more steps passed in comfortable silence before the customer service desk came into view at the end of the corridor. The older gentleman slowed to a stop beside it.
"Let's see if we can't get you where you need to be."
You nodded quietly, fingers still clutching the unopened packet of pretzels he'd handed you. You hadn't even realized you were squeezing it until the plastic crinkled softly beneath your grip.
He noticed.
"Nervous hands?"
You looked down sheepishly.
"...A little."
"I figured."
He reached for the desk phone before pausing.
"You mentioned you came with a group."
You nodded.
"They're..." You hesitated, instinctively lowering your voice. "...Well-known."
He smiled knowingly.
"I gathered."
"They had people following them…5here were cameras everywhere…I got pushed..."
Your voice caught slightly. "...and we got separated."
His expression softened even further.
"I'm sorry that happened."
You swallowed.
"They're probably..." Without meaning to, your eyes drifted toward the departures board mounted high above the concourse. Your flight.
FINAL BOARDING
Your stomach dropped so suddenly it almost hurt.
"...They're leaving."
It came out as barely more than a whisper.
The older gentlemen leaned a bit forward and followed your gaze before looking back at you.
"No." His voice was calm and certain. "They're not leaving you."
You tried to smile…but it didn't quite reach your eyes.
♡
Several terminals away, the atmosphere had completely changed. Nobody was talking anymore. The managers had spent nearly twenty minutes arguing with airport staff, security personnel, and airline representatives. Every minute the aircraft remained at the gate cost money, and every minute increased the chance of missing their departure slot. One of the gate agents approached again.
"We really do need to begin boarding."
"We're still missing one passenger," the manager replied immediately.
"I understand, but air traffic has already approved your departure window. If we miss it..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to. The manager closed his eyes for a brief second.
"...Give me one minute."
♡
Martin hadn't stopped staring toward the terminal entrance. Every person who rounded the corner made his heart jump, but every single time...it wasn't you.
His phone remained clenched tightly in his hand. Call. Straight to voicemail. Again. Voicemail. Again. Nothing.
His knee bounced relentlessly against the airport flooring. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
James quietly watched him from the seat beside him. He'd never seen Martin like this.
Not after difficult performances, not after injuries, and not even after exhausting schedules.
This...this was different.
♡
"Martin," He barely looked up as the manager stood in front of him now. "We have to board."
"No,” It came instantly. "I'm staying."
"You can't."
"I'm not getting on that plane without her."
The manager crouched slightly so they were eye level.
"We have airport security looking, customer assistance at every nearby terminal, and we're checking cameras. They're all searching."
Martin shook his head.
"...Then I'll search too."
He stood, but only for another manager to gently catch his arm before he could disappear back into the crowd.
"Martin."
"No."
"Listen-"
"No."
His breathing had become uneven now.
"I wasn't paying attention. I should've noticed. She was holding onto me." His voice cracked. "...She was right there."
Nobody corrected him, because everyone knew he was replaying the exact same moment over and over. The tiny absence of pressure on his sleeve, the moment he'd looked back, and the empty space.
"I should've turned around sooner."
The manager's grip tightened just enough to keep him grounded.
"This isn't your fault."
Martin didn't answer…because somewhere deep down...he'd already convinced himself it was.
Another airport employee approached the gate as the manager looked toward them and then back at Martin. His expression changed.
"We have to board."
Martin stared at him.
"...Please,” It was the first time he'd sounded genuinely helpless. "Just five more minutes."
"I know."
"Please."
"I know."
The manager took a slow breath…then quietly nodded toward the aircraft door.
"They're holding the plane as long as they can. If they tell us the door has to close..."
His sentence trailed off, but Martin already understood. A long silence settled between them. Finally, with visible reluctance, Martin lowered his head.
"...Okay."
Not because he'd given up, but because there was nothing else he physically could do.
♡
The cabin felt impossibly quiet. Martin lowered himself into his seat almost mechanically. Across the aisle, James settled into his own pod without a word. Even Keonho stared blankly out the window.
Nobody reached for the entertainment screens, nobody joked, and nobody even unpacked their bags.
Martin's pod sat directly beside yours separated only by a sliding divider. Earlier that morning, you'd smiled while looking at the seat map on your phone.
"We're next to each other! We can put the divider down and watch movies together."
Now, your seat remained untouched. The blanket was still neatly folded, the headphones rested exactly where the flight attendant had placed them, and the reading light glowed softly above an empty chair.
Martin couldn't stop looking at it. His knee continued bouncing. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. He unlocked his phone again. Your chat.
Calling...
Straight to voicemail. Again. He let the phone fall limply into his lap before covering his face with both hands.
Across the aisle, James quietly reached over. His hand rested once against Martin's shoulder. A silent reminder.
You're not alone.
Martin didn't move.
♡
Back at customer service, the gentleman, who you found out was named David, pulled the desk phone a little closer before looking back toward you.
"Alright,” He offered another gentle smile. "Let's see if we can get ahold of your people."
You nodded hopefully. He picked up the receiver.
"Do you happen to know anybody's phone number?"
Your heart sank almost immediately.
"...No."
You'd never needed to memorize one. Why would you? You were always with them and you always had your phone. The thought made your shoulders droop slightly.
David noticed.
"That's alright. We'll figure something out."
You looked down at the packet of pretzels still clutched in your hands, trying to think.
Passport...wallet...boarding pass...phone-your phone. Still completely dead.
"...Wait."
David looked up. You frowned slightly before absentmindedly tugging at the sleeve of your hoodie.
"...I think..."
Your fingers paused before quickly pulling the fabric back farther. There it was. A thin black silicone wristband wrapped loosely around your wrist. You'd almost forgotten you were even wearing it. One of the managers had slipped it onto you that morning before everyone left for the airport.
"Just in case. Emergency contact's printed on the inside so it looks normal to outsiders. If anything ever happens, someone can call us."
You'd laughed when he'd handed it to you.
"Nothing's going to happen."
"...Guess I jinxed that."
David smiled warmly.
"Looks like somebody was thinking ahead."
You carefully flipped the wristband around your wrist until you saw the tiny white lettering of that ran along the inside.
Emergency Contact - Tour Manager - +82-010-xxxx-xxxx
Relief washed over you so suddenly your knees almost felt weak.
"I found it."
David pulled a small notepad closer.
"Go ahead."
You slowly read the number aloud while he wrote it down carefully to make sure every digit was correct. Once you'd finished, he dialed.
The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. You unconsciously started picking at the edge of the pretzel packet again, and David noticed without saying anything. Then-
Click.
"Hello?"
David immediately straightened.
"Good morning,” His voice remained calm and friendly. "My name's David, and I'm with airport customer assistance. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time." A pause. “I'm calling because I have a young lady here who says she became separated from your travel group."
He glanced toward you. His expression softened.
"Before we go any further..." He covered the receiver with one hand. "I never actually asked. What was your name, sweetheart?"
You blinked.
"...Y/N."
He smiled.
"Full name?"
You quietly answered.
"Y/N L/N."
He nodded before lifting the phone back to his ear.
"Thank you."
"The young lady's name is Y/N L/N."
Silence. For exactly one second. Then a voice exploded through the receiver loud enough that even you could faintly hear it from where you stood.
"...YOU FOUND HER?!"
David instinctively pulled the phone an inch away from his ear. His eyebrows lifted slightly before he looked back at you with the smallest amused smile.
"I'll take that as a yes."
♡
The manager was already on his feet before David could say another word.
"Where is she?"
David's smile remained calm despite the panic pouring through the speaker.
"She's safe."
The words seemed to stop the manager's breathing for a second.
"...She's safe?"
"Yes, sir."
"She's here with me at customer service. I found her walking through Concourse C."
The manager closed his eyes and one long exhale escaped him.
"...Thank God."
Behind him, every member had gone completely still. Martin's head snapped up so quickly his neck cracked.
The manager looked toward him. Not saying anything yet…still listening.
David continued.
"She has a few scrape and I believe she twisted her ankle. But she's alert. Just understandably shaken."
Martin didn't wait another second.
"What?” His voice came out rough. “What did he say?"
The manager held up one finger, asking him to wait. It was the longest second of Martin's life.
David glanced over toward you. You were stood up quietly beside the counter, still holding the pretzels. Your hoodie sleeves covered most of your hands again, and your backpack hung from one shoulder.
You looked so...small.
"...Would she like to speak with you?"
The manager answered immediately.
"Please."
David offered you the receiver.
"The gentleman would like to talk to you."
You hesitated.
"...Okay,” You carefully took the phone with both hands. "...Hello?"
Silence. Then-
"...Y/N?"
The familiar voice of the manager almost shattered every ounce of composure you'd been desperately holding together.
"...I'm here. I'm okay." Another pause. You heard him exhale shakily. "I've been trying to call you."
"I know."
"My phone..." You glanced toward the cracked screen tucked into your hoodie pocket. "...It broke. I'm sorry." The apology came out before you could stop it. "I'm really sorry."
On the other end, the manager pinched the bridge of his nose.
"You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. You hear me?"
"...Okay."
"You got hurt because people weren't paying attention. This isn't your fault."
You nodded instinctively before realizing he couldn't see you.
"...Okay."
"You stay right there, I'm sending someone. I'll have airport staff escort you straight to the gate."
You looked toward David. He smiled encouragingly.
"...Okay."
"And Y/N?"
"...Yeah?"
A gentler smile tugged at the manager's voice now.
"...Martin's okay."
Your shoulders loosened.
"I was worried..."
"I know."
"He was worried too."
♡
The manager slowly lowered the phone. Nobody spoke.
Then he looked directly at Martin.
"...They found her."
Martin simply stared. As if the words hadn't quite reached him.
"...What?"
"They found her. She's safe. She’s at customer service concourse C."
The silence broke all at once and Martin stood so quickly his seatbelt caught against the armrest with a sharp snap.
"I need to-"
"The airport staff are already bringing her."
"I'll meet-"
"You can't."
"The cabin door is still open."
"I know, but security has already cleared boarding."
Martin's jaw tightened. Every instinct in him screamed to run anyway, but the manager stepped closer.
"She's coming to you. I promise."
Martin slowly looked toward the still-empty seat beside him with the divider up between your two pods. The blanket sat perfectly folded like before and your headphones hadn't moved. His eyes burned. From the sheer emotional exhaustion of the situation. James quietly leaned forward from across the aisle.
"...She's okay."
Martin swallowed.
"...Yeah,” His voice barely existed. "...She's okay."
For the first time in nearly half an hour, his knee slowed in its bouncing. All his adrenaline had suddenly crashed at once.
…but just outside the aircraft, an airport cart was already pulling up to customer service.
David smiled warmly as he picked up your backpack for you.
"I think," he said, opening the passenger door with a small flourish, "it's about time we got you back to your people."
♡
The airport cart slowed to a stop beside the aircraft and your stomach twisted as you looked out the window. You'd never been driven across the tarmac before. Everything suddenly felt...very real.
David climbed out first before offering you a hand.
"Easy now."
You accepted it carefully, testing your sore ankle as your sneakers met the pavement.
"You've done wonderfully."
You laughed quietly.
"I don't think I've done much."
"You kept your head." He smiled. "That's harder than most people think especially after getting mobbed."
You looked toward the aircraft stairs.
"...Thank you."
"It was nice meeting you."
"The circumstances could've been better."
"They usually are,” He chuckled warmly. "Now go before somebody inside that plane worries themselves into another gray hair."
♡
The lead flight attendant stepped inside first. She leaned toward one of the managers near the front.
"They're here."
The words were barely above a whisper, but Martin heard them anyway. His head snapped toward the cabin entrance. Every passenger in first class suddenly seemed to disappear as he looked at the curtain. The aisle, the seats, the chatter…everything blurred.
Then, you stepped inside. Baseball cap still pulled low, mask still covering half your face, and backpack hanging unevenly from one shoulder. Your hand lightly gripped the wall as you favored your injured ankle.
You found him almost immediately.
When your eyes finally met, the relief on his face hit you harder than anything or anyone that had all morning. Immediately, you fast walked toward him, but Martin was already halfway there. He stopped only when he reached you…almost as if he almost couldn't believe you were actually standing in front of him again.
"...Hi,” Your voice came out small. "I'm sorry I-"
He shook his head immediately.
"No."
Before you could banter back, he wrapped both arms around you and lifted you up. Like he was going to physically carry you the rest of the flight. Your forehead pressed against his shoulder as your own arms slipped around his waist.
Finally…you let yourself breathe.
"I'm here," you whispered.
"I know,” His voice sounded muffled against your hair. "I know."
Neither of you moved, and the cabin around you stayed respectfully quiet. Even the flight attendants seemed content to let the moment happen.
Eventually, Martin let you down and leaned back just enough to look at you. His eyes immediately dropped to your scraped palms…and then the faint red marks crossing the backs of your hands…then the beginning of a bruise blooming beneath the sleeve of your hoodie…and finally, your ankle.
"...You walked all this way?"
You shrugged weakly.
"Well…I had to find you and…not miss my flight."
Something in his expression jumped between disbelief and relief. He reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair back beneath your cap with surprising gentleness.
"You don't have to find me." His voice was quiet. "If something like this ever happens again..." He swallowed. "I'll find you. I…I was just held back from doing so today."
He gave off that quiet certainty that settled somewhere deep inside your chest. You smiled, it lightly reaching your eyes.
"I understand."
♡
A few minutes later, the divider between your seats slid open with a soft click. You settled carefully into your pod, wincing only slightly as you stretched your sore ankle beneath the blanket.
Martin looked over immediately.
"Does it hurt?"
"A little."
"We'll have someone look at it when we land."
You nodded.
"...Okay."
Silence settled comfortably between you. Peaceful. The captain's voice echoed softly through the cabin.
"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience this morning. We apologize for the delay. Cabin crew, prepare for departure."
The aircraft finally began to push back, and Martin looked over at you one last time. Almost like he wanted to reassure himself you were actually there.
You noticed. Quietly, you brought your hand across the gap between your seats. Not for his han…but for the cuff of his hoodie. Like always.
Martin looked down, and then back at you. A tired smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"...finally."
You smiled back, huffing out a slight sigh.
♡
MINI EPILOGUE
The following week after a concert, before your next flight, one of the managers quietly walked over holding a second black emergency wristband.
He looked at Martin, then at you.
"I think...we're making these standard from now on."
Even Martin managed a small laugh.
"...Probably a good idea."
Martin held out his wrist, pulling his hoodie sleeve back so the manager can slip on the bracelet. When his arm fell to his side, your fingers had already found the sleeve of his hoodie.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: Thank you guys again for showing me so much love and I’m sorry if I was a bit inactive! My birthday was this past weekend (like I said), so I was hanging out with family! 🙈 I hope you enjoyed this and I cannot express enough how thankful I am to have you guyssss ☺️
Heyy love ur writing can u please write something about jay doesn't matter the trope just anything about him pleasee
Our Recipe
Pairing: boyfriend!Jay x fem!reader
Genre: Fluff, humor, established relationship
Synopsis: After you find a recipe that "looks easy," you convince Jay to make it with you. Unfortunately, the internet lied.
Warning(s): Food chaos, mild burns from the oven (NOT serious), excessive teasing
Word Count: ~2.3k+
A/N: Hai! I have to admit that I actually have a LOT of requests in my inbox…some even from March. SO! This was one of them I decided to tackle! I hope you enjoy my loves!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
"You know..."
Jay didn't look up from the cookbook he was pretending to read.
"Hm?"
"I think we should cook something together."
"...No."
You frowned dramatically from the other end of the couch.
"I didn't even tell you what it was."
"I don't need to know."
"You don't?"
"No."
"You already said no."
"I did."
"Why?"
"Because every time you say, 'I have an idea,' my afternoon somehow becomes significantly harder."
You gasped.
"I am offended."
"I'm prepared to live with that."
You huffed before scooting across the couch until you were practically sitting on top of him.
"Jay."
"No."
"Jay."
"No."
"Jay."
He finally sighed, closing the cookbook and looking at you.
"...What?"
Without another word, you shoved your phone directly into his face. A TikTok was playing. Bright music, perfect lighting, and someone effortlessly whisking together what looked like the prettiest meal you'd ever seen.
The caption read:
“Easy Dinner! Only 5 Ingredients!”
You looked at him with sparkling eyes.
"We should make this."
Jay watched the video all the way through. Then watched it a second time.
"...Absolutely not."
"Why?"
"They're lying."
"They wouldn't lie."
"They absolutely would."
"They said it's easy."
"They also edited this into forty-five seconds."
You blinked.
"...So?"
"So I think this is a scam."
♡
Somehow, 30 minutes later, you both were standing inside the grocery store. Jay still wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten here. One minute he'd been comfortably sitting on the couch. The next you'd somehow convinced him that trying the recipe would be "a fun couple activity."
He pushed the shopping cart with one hand while the other held the ingredient list on his phone. Meanwhile, you'd wandered approximately six feet ahead of him, lightly dragging the cart by the front corner while looking around excitedly.
"Ooh!"
Jay glanced up.
"What?"
"They have marshmallows."
"...O…kay?"
"I think that’ll be good with the dish."
Before he could answer, you'd already tossed a bag into the cart. Then you happily continued walking without another thought.
Jay looked down…looked at the recipe…and looked back at the marshmallows.
"..."
He quietly picked them back up and placed them on the shelf before continuing to walk.
A minute later-
"Ooh!"
"What now?"
"They have gummy bears."
"No."
"I wasn't asking."
"I know."
"They're cute."
"They're candy. This is a savory dish."
"They can be both."
You dropped them into the cart. Jay waited until you skipped ahead again before back onto the shelf they went.
♡
By aisle six, the cart had become an ongoing battle. You added things, and Jay quietly removed them. At one point, you'd somehow managed to sneak in a tiny potted succulent.
Jay stopped the cart.
"...Baby."
"Hm?"
"Why is there...a plant?"
You looked down.
"Oh! I thought it looked lonely."
"...We're grocery shopping."
"I know."
"...The plant isn't coming home."
"It could."
"It won't."
♡
Eventually you reached the international foods aisle. You scanned the shelves confidently.
"Okay...we need...” Your finger slowly traced the ingredient list on his phone. "...gochujang..." You paused. "...glaze..." Another pause. "...reduction?"
Jay slowly lowered his phone.
"...That's not one ingredient."
"It says gochujang glaze reduction."
He gently looked at his phone.
"...Baby."
"Hm?"
"...That's the title of the section."
You leaned closer.
"...Oh." Silence. "...I knew that."
"No, you didn't."
"I did!"
♡
Finding the actual ingredients somehow proved even harder. You wandered in circles.
"This store is confusing."
"It isn't."
"It is."
"You've passed soy sauce four times."
"They keep moving it!!"
Jay smiled to himself.
"They're not moving it."
"You don't know that."
♡
By the time you finally reached checkout, Jay glanced into the cart.
"...How did we spend this much?"
You followed his gaze. There were ingredients, paper towels, a tiny whisk, a white spatula you'd insisted was "cuter.”, and three different drinks because you "couldn't decide which one you wanted to try.”
Oh yeah! And a loaf of garlic bread.
He picked it up.
"...Why?"
You smiled innocently.
"...It looked lonely."
He laughed despite himself.
"I swear that's your answer for everything."
♡
The second you walked through the apartment door you clapped your hands together.
"Let's cook!"
Jay looked at the seven grocery bags.
"...Let's unpack first."
15 minutes later, the kitchen finally looked organized. Clean. Every ingredient neatly lined across the counter.
Jay tied an apron around his waist before looking up.
"...Where's yours?"
You proudly held one up. It had tiny smiling strawberries printed all over it.
"You own this?"
"Mmhm! It makes me happy!"
"...Fair enough."
♡
You placed your phone on the counter and opened the TikTok recipe. The creator smiled brightly.
"So first-"
You paused the video.
"Okay!"
Jay rolled up his sleeves.
"Let's do this."
♡
Three minutes later, everything had already gone wrong. You attempted to crack an egg one-handed while Jay watched with mild curiosity.
"..."
The egg completely missed the bowl. It landed directly on the counter.
Silence.
You stared while the shattered egg stared back. Jay slowly closed his eyes.
"...You missed."
"I noticed."
♡
Five minutes later, you were measuring “flour”. Or…attempting to.
"Does it really need exactly two cups?"
"Yes."
"...What if I don’t feel like two cups?"
Jay blinked.
"...what?"
"Mhm."
"It says two cups."
"I know."
"My heart says a little more."
"Your heart isn't cooking."
♡
When you reached for the sugar container, Jay immediately stopped you.
"...Baby."
"Hm?"
"...That's powdered sugar."
"..."
"...It is?"
"Yes."
"I thought flour looked shinier."
"..."
"...Please let me hold the ingredients."
♡
At some point, you somehow managed to get sauce on the counter, your apron, one cabinet, the refrigerator handle, and your own cheek.
Jay stood silently watching the growing disaster. Then, without saying a word, he grabbed the roll of paper towels. For the next twenty minutes, he simply followed behind you.
You stirred something, he wiped the counter. You opened a cabinet, he cleaned the handle you'd somehow gotten sauce on.
You dripped oil, he sighed softly before cleaning it up. Eventually, you turned around.
"...Are you following me?"
"No."
"You are."
"I'm preventing further casualties."
"I am not making that much of a mess."
He looked around the kitchen. Then back at you.
"...Would you like me to answer honestly?"
♡
The recipe suddenly called for three separate bowls. Then four. Then five.
Jay stared into the sink.
"..."
"...Who wrote this recipe?"
You shrugged.
"I don't know, I guess the creator."
"They assume everyone owns seventeen bowls?"
"They probably do."
"I barely own seven."
You couldn't stop laughing.
"I'm serious."
"I know."
"Where are they expecting me to get Bowl Number Eight?"
♡
The recipe reached the "carefully dice the vegetables" step. You confidently picked up the knife as Jay looked over…looked back…and then looked over again.
"...Baby."
"Hm?"
"...Why are you holding it like that?"
You frowned.
"...Like what?"
He slowly walked over.
"...Like you're about to start stabbing the carrot."
"I am not."
"You are."
"I'm cutting it."
"You're threatening it, baby."
You giggled.
"I know what I'm doing."
"Uhhhh..." He stepped behind you, gently taking the knife from your hand before placing it back correctly. "No..." His hands carefully adjusted yours around the handle. "...Like this."
You suddenly forgot what vegetables were. His chin hovered near your shoulder as he guided your movements.
"Keep your fingers tucked."
"...Mm."
"So you don't cut yourself."
"...Mm."
"You listening?"
"..."
"...Baby?"
"Huh?"
He laughed quietly.
"I lost you, didn't I?"
"...Maybe a tiny bit..."
♡
Eventually, the vegetables were cut! Some were just…different shapes than intended.
"It's rustic," you insisted.
Jay raised an eyebrow.
"...One of these is like…the size of my thumb."
"I like it like that."
♡
Things finally seemed to be improving. Until the recipe reached the next step.
"Flip it!"
You gasped dramatically.
"I've always wanted to do that!"
Jay immediately looked up.
"...No."
"I've got it."
"No."
"I can totally do it."
"You, wait-"
Before he could finish, you confidently flicked the pan upward exactly like the person in the TikTok. For one glorious second, it actually worked! Then, the food launched straight into the air and both of you watched in slow motion.
"..."
"..."
It landed directly on the floor. Silence. Jay stared at it for a full five seconds. Then quietly asked-
"...Five-second rule?"
You burst into uncontrollable laughter.
"You are not serious."
"I'm trying to stay positive here."
♡
Round two went…marginally better. The second batch actually stayed inside the pan!
"I did it!"
"You did."
"You doubted me."
"I did."
"You were wrong."
"I was…don't get used to hearing that."
♡
Then came the oven. Jay carefully slid the tray inside.
"Okay. It needs another ten minutes."
You nodded.
"Got it."
Nine minutes later…it obviously still hadn’t been ten minutes. The timer hadn't even gone off yet. You peeked through the oven window.
"...I think it's done."
Jay glanced over from the sink.
"It isn't."
"It looks done."
"It needs another minute."
"...Just one peek."
Before he could answer, you grabbed the oven mitt. Or…what you thought was the oven mitt. Unfortunately, it was just the folded kitchen towel sitting beside it. You pulled the tray forward a little too quickly.
"...Ow!"
Jay's head snapped around instantly. The smile disappeared from his face.
"Baby?"
You immediately pulled your hand back.
"It's okay-"
"No,” He was already beside you. "Let me see."
"It's literally nothing."
"Your hand."
You reluctantly held it out. A faint pink mark had already started appearing across your fingertips. Jay gently took your wrist.
"...You reached in without the mitt."
"I thought I had it."
"You didn't..."
"I know..."
Without another word, he guided you to the sink and turned on cool water.
"There. Keep it under."
You pouted.
"...I feel dumb."
He looked over.
"You aren't dumb."
"I kind of am."
"You got excited."
"I wanted to see if it worked."
"I know,” His thumb lightly rubbed the back of your hand while the cool water ran over your fingers. "You have to slow down."
"...Okay."
"You can't just reach into an oven."
"I know."
"You scared me."
That made your expression soften immediately.
"...I'm sorry."
Jay sighed.
"I'm not mad…I just..." He looked down at your hand again. "...Don't like seeing you get hurt."
Your heart practically melted.
♡
Ten minutes later, the food was finally plated. You both stood in front of it.
"It..." You tilted your head. "...Actually doesn't look…bad."
Jay nodded slowly.
"I'll admit...I'm surprised."
"Hey!"
"I'm complimenting you!"
"Barely."
You handed him a fork. He looked at you, then at the food, then back at you.
"You first."
"No..."
"You."
"What if it's bad?"
"Exactly."
“Baby…”
He laughed.
"You're unbelievable."
Taking a deep breath, he took the first bite. You watched him chew with the most anxious expression imaginable.
"...?"
"..."
"...Jay?"
He swallowed before looking down at the plate…and then back at you.
"...It's actually…really good."
Your mouth fell open.
"...Seriously?"
"Mhm."
"You aren't lying?"
"I'm genuinely annoyed."
"What?"
"You were right."
You squealed so loudly he barely had time to react before you threw yourself onto him and your arms around him. The force nearly knocked the fork out of his hand.
"Whoa-"
"It worked!"
"I know!"
"It actually worked!"
"I KNOW!"
♡
Dinner somehow disappeared surprisingly fast. Not because you were starving, I mean…you kind of were, but because every other bite was interrupted by laughter. Or another story. Or one of you pointing out something ridiculous that had happened earlier. By the end, your stomach hurt more from laughing than eating.
Much later, the kitchen still looked…questionable. You leaned against the counter while Jay quietly washed dishes.
"You know..."
He hummed.
"I think we make a pretty good team."
He smiled to himself.
"...Eventually."
"Rude."
"Accurate."
You wandered over behind him. Without warning, you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your cheek rested gently against his back. He paused halfway through rinsing a plate.
"...Comfortable?"
"Mhm."
"If you want you can dry that dish over there?"
"I'm okay with being emotional support."
"I see."
"You appreciate me."
"I do."
He set the last plate in the drying rack before turning around in your arms.
"You know..."
"What?"
"You almost baked the oven towel today."
"..."
"...I forgot about that."
"I know."
"And I dropped dinner."
"You did."
"And I almost used powdered sugar."
"You did."
"..."
"...I'm sensing a theme."
Jay laughed, reaching over to brush a tiny streak of flour you'd somehow still managed to leave on your cheek.
"You know what I learned today?"
"What?"
He smiled softly.
"...Never trust TikTok recipes."
You pretended to think.
"...I don't think that's the lesson."
"No?"
"No."
"The lesson..." You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. "...Is that cooking with you is fun."
Jay's expression softened almost immediately. Even after everything…the mess, the chaos, the burnt fingertips, the seven bowls, and the floor incident…he would've done it all again. Just to hear you laugh like that.
"...Yeah," he admitted quietly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "...I'd make another disaster with you."
You grinned.
"So...dessert?"
He narrowed his eyes.
"...What dessert?"
You slowly pulled another TikTok up on your phone. His smile disappeared.
"...Baby."
"It only has three ingredients this time!"
"Noooo."
"Please?"
"..."
"...baby?"
He let out the deepest sigh known to mankind.
"...Go get your strawberry apron."
A smile immediately spread across your face.
"I knew you'd say yes!"
"No, I could’ve said no."
"You were going to say yes."
"I wasn't."
"You love me."
"..."
"...Unfortunately."
You laughed all the way back toward the bedroom to find your apron. Jay watched you go before shaking his head to himself.
Then, despite all his complaining, e quietly reached into the cabinet and pulled out another roll of paper towels.
Just in case.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: I think this was a cute little story and I hope you all enjoyed! I haven’t done an ENHYPEN fic in a hot minute soooo I’m glad I had the motivation to make one!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Genre: Fluff, comedy, established relationship, livestreamer AU
Synopsis: Keonho's viewers tune in for creepy internet mysteries, but once tiny handwritten notes start appearing on the whiteboard behind him, the real mystery becomes the girl leaving them
Warning(s): Jealous Keonho (the funny kind), Twitch/live chat behavior, true crime videos, excessive flirting (from viewers, not Keonho), lots of fluff 🥹
Word Count: ~2.5k+
A/N: Hai! I got nothing much to say except I hope you enjoy!! I have like a list of ideas I’m going through, so I’m trying to alternate between doing requests and my ideas! 😊
(Keonho and his Friday nights…)
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
There were exactly three things Keonho's viewers expected every Friday night. A complicated crime case, a forty-five minute deep dive that somehow turned into two hours, and Keonho saying-
"Hey, guys! Welcome back."
Every. Single. Week.
He'd lean back into the black desk chair he'd owned for years, smile at the camera, tap the marker against the massive whiteboard behind him, and immediately launch into whatever mystery he'd spent the last several days researching. Sometimes disappearances, sometimes unsolved murders, sometimes bizarre internet mysteries…but whatever it was, he ALWAYS had to use the whiteboard. It didn’t matter if it was diagrams, timelines, maps, names connected by arrows, or colored circles around important evidence, if something couldn't fit on the whiteboard, he simply just bought a bigger whiteboard. His viewers loved making fun of him for it too.
"bro i think that’s enough whiteboard space"
"Your lives are made up of 10% Keonho and 90% whiteboard."
"One day he's gonna need to make all the walls in his house whiteboards.”
Keonho always laughed.
"Don't tempt me.”
♡
The filming room had slowly become recognizable to almost three million people. Bookshelves lined one wall, filled with case files, psychology books, and binders that somehow all looked equally organized. Another wall had a framed silver play button sitting slightly crooked because Keonho refused to straighten it, and under it, his desk stayed…surprisingly clean despite the number of notebooks scattered across it.
And of course…the giant whiteboard behind him. That never seemed to change. Even the notes in the corner stayed. Not because Keonho intentionally left it alone…but mostly because he didn’t realize it was even there.
♡
"...You're going live in fifteen."
You wandered into the office carrying two mugs. Keonho didn't even look up from the notes spread across his desk.
"Mhm."
"I made your tea."
"Mhm."
"You answered without listening."
"I always listen."
"You definitely don't ALWAYS listen."
"I definitely do."
You smiled despite yourself before placing the mug beside his keyboard. He immediately reached for it without looking.
"...Thanks, baby."
"Woah, hi hello!!."
"Hm?"
"You acknowledged me."
"I always acknowledge you, baby."
"You literally answered me with 'mhm' three times."
"I was researching last minute things."
"You were staring at one sentence on a word document."
"...It was a complicated sentence."
"It said..." You leaned over his shoulder, reading directly from the page. "'The suspect entered the building at approximately 8:47 p.m.'"
"...Very complicated, right?"
You laughed softly, ruffling his hair a bit.
"I'll leave you to your incredibly difficult reading."
You started toward the door before stopping beside the whiteboard. The corner was completely blank.
Your eyes flicked toward Keonho. Still reading…still completely focused. A tiny smile tugged at your lips as you quietly picked up one of the markers sitting in the tray.
Pink. Perfect.
In tiny handwriting, you tucked into the very bottom right corner...
“don't forget dinner tonight ♡”
You capped the marker exactly where you'd found it.
"...Bye baby."
"Mhm."
"..."
"...Love you."
That finally got his attention. He looked up immediately.
"...I love you too!"
You grinned.
"There he is!!”
♡
Eight o'clock arrived exactly on schedule. The familiar countdown finished, and the red LIVE indicator appeared.
Chat exploded.
“FIRST”
“WE'RE SO BACK”
“Hello Keonho!!!”
“I MISSED FRIDAY”
“NEW CASE??”
Keonho adjusted the microphone slightly before smiling toward the camera.
"Hey, guys!" The chat immediately sped up. "Welcome back,” More messages flooded the screen. "I hope everyone's week's been good." He reached for the marker behind him. "Tonight..." He uncapped it dramatically. "...we're talking about one of the strangest missing person cases I've researched all year."
Chat loved when he started like this. Within minutes, the stream settled into its usual rhythm. He drew a timeline across the whiteboard, added names, connected locations, circled evidence, explained witness statements, and answered questions between paragraphs. Everything felt completely normal.
Until, nearly forty minutes in, one message appeared.
“wait what's written in the bottom corner??”
Keonho kept talking. Didn't notice. Another message.
“HOLD ON. pause. what's the pink writing”
Then another.
“DOES ANYONE ELSE SEE THAT”
More people started scrolling back through the stream. Some zoomed in, someone actually took a screenshot, and other viewers enhanced it. By the time Keonho finished explaining a suspect timeline, half the chat had completely stopped discussing the actual case. Instead-
“I THINK IT SAYS DON'T FORGET DINNER TONIGHT”
“WAIT DOES IT??”
“WHO WROTE THAT”
“HELLO???”
“IS HE MARRIED??”
Keonho read the chat briefly and frowned.
"...What are you guys talking about?"
More messages.
“BOTTOM RIGHT”
“LOOK DOWN”
“YOUR WHITEBOARD”
He blinked.
"...My whiteboard?"
His eyes finally drifted downward toward the tiny pink handwriting. Silence.
"...Oh."
A smile escaped before he could stop it. Small and soft. Completely unconscious actually. Chat noticed immediately though.
“HE SMILED”
“HE'S BLUSHING”
“WHO WROTE THAT”
Keonho quickly cleared his throat.
"...Anyway."
The chat refused to move on.
“ANYWAY???”
“NAHHH WHO WROTE IT”
“HELLO”
“EXPLAIN YOURSELF”
He sighed through a laugh.
"...It's..." Another pause. "...Nothing important."
“NOTHING IMPORTANT???”
“BRO LITERALLY SMILED”
“THAT IS ABSOLUTELY IMPORTANT”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"...Let's..." He pointed dramatically toward the timeline. "...Focus on the homicide."
Yeah…not a single person listened. Because outside in the living room, you were watching the stream and trying very, very hard not to laugh.
♡
You’d really think the first note should have been the end of it. Uhhhh, yeah, it wasn't.
By the following Friday, another message had mysteriously appeared before Keonho went live. This time it sat tucked beneath the corner of his evidence timeline, small enough that he completely overlooked it while setting up.
“remember to stretch your back :(“
The stream lasted nearly an hour before someone noticed.
"Guys," Keonho laughed, glancing between the scrolling chat and the whiteboard behind him. "Can we please focus on the serial arsonist for, like...fiveeeee minutes?"
Absolutely not. The comments only multiplied.
“SHE'S BACKKKKK”
“WHITEBOARD GIRL RETURNED”
“WAIT THAT'S ACTUALLY THE SAME HANDWRITING FROM LAST WEEK”
“SHE CARES ABOUT HIS POSTURE 😭”
He finally twisted around in his chair, squinting at the tiny pink writing.
"Oh."
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. One that lingered just long enough for the chat to catch it.
"Oh my god," he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. "I forgot she wrote that."
The chat instantly exploded.
“SHE???”
“HE SAID SHE”
“Confirmed female YES”
“WHO IS SHE KEONHO?”
He cleared his throat and uncapped another marker.
"Anyway." With three quick strokes, he drew a neat box around the little note. "There. It officially counts as evidence now. You happy?"
The flood of messages only doubled.
♡
It became a tradition without either of you ever talking about it. Somewhere between making him coffee before every livestream and stealing one of his hoodies because his office was always freezing, you simply…started leaving little notes whenever you stopped by. They would remind him to eat, to drink water, just say, “hi :)”, or “don't forget to blink”, or “good luck!! <3”.
Every single one ended up on the whiteboard. Which meant…his viewers always found them first.
Eventually, spotting the weekly note became its own game. People stopped guessing what case he'd be covering and instead would immediately begin zooming in on the whiteboard.
“HAS ANYONE FOUND THE NOTE YET”
“THERE'S ALWAYS ONE”
“CHECK THE BOTTOM CORNER”
“ENHANCE”
Keonho would only sigh dramatically.
"You guys are unbelievable. I spent twenty-three hours researching this case and you're all conducting handwriting analysis instead."
That only encouraged them more.
♡
The questions started soon after.
“tell her we said hi please”
"Hm?" Keonho glanced over. "...I'll consider it."
“WE LOVE HER”
"I heard you."
“WHAT'S HER NAME”
"...No."
“IS SHE SINGLE?”
He looked directly into the camera.
"...Interesting question,” Another pause. "No."
He immediately clicked to the next slide.
"So anyway, let's talk about why this suspect's alibi completely falls apart-"
The chat completely ignored him.
“HE ANSWERED THAT SO FAST”
“BRO DIDN'T EVEN THINK”
“POSSESSIVE MUCH???”
“You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take at I right?”
Keonho snorted.
"...Yeah. You also miss 100% of the shots when she's already my girlfriend."
The silence lasted exactly half a second. Then the livestream chat completely imploded.
♡
The internet somehow became even worse over time. Every livestream started exactly the same way now. Keonho would spend days researching another case, carefully organize his notes, adjust the lighting in his office, and mentally prepare himself to discuss some of the strangest crimes he'd ever read about, but his viewers prepared to look for you. Not the whiteboard. You.
The comments started before the stream had even officially begun.
“Do you guys think she’s home??”
“WHITEBOARD CHECKKKK”
“WE NEED A GIRLFRIEND UPDATE”
Keonho pinched the bridge of his nose once he got on.
"...You people realize this is a crime channel, right?"
“nope, girlfriend channel now”
“where's mama”
He stared blankly at the monitor.
"...'Mama?'"
More messages flew by.
“YES”
“MOTHER”
“SHOW HER”
He sighed so dramatically it made half the chat laugh.
"oh…my gosh."
♡
For weeks, nothing changed. You still stayed off-camera. Sometimes your footsteps could barely be heard somewhere deeper in the apartment, sometimes a mug would quietly appear on his desk halfway through the stream, and other times another tiny note appeared in the corner of the whiteboard. That was enough to keep the internet entertained.
But that changed one Friday night.
♡
You had genuinely forgotten he was live. The grocery bags hanging from your wrist were heavier than expected as you nudged the office door open with your shoulder.
"Keonho?"
He looked over instinctively, regardless of his live.
"Hm?"
"I bought your favorite chips."
"You did baby?"
"Mhm."
"You're the best."
"You've said that before this week."
"Because you are."
You walked toward the desk, setting the grocery bag beside him before reaching for the marker he had in his hand. While he continued explaining a witness statement, you quietly bent over the whiteboard and wrote one more tiny message in the corner.
“you better eat the strawberries before i do ♡”
You smiled to yourself before stepping back.
"Okay. I'm going to put everything away."
"Love you."
"Love you too."
Without another thought, you leaned down beside his chair to kiss the top of his head. It lasted barely two seconds before you disappeared toward the kitchen.
Silence. Keonho slowly turned back toward his monitor. Bigggg mistake.
The chat was moving so quickly he could barely read it.
“SHE'S REAL OH MY GOSH”
“SHE KISSED HIS HEAD”
“SHE'S SO PRETTY WTF”
“Him calling her baby >>>”
“HELLO???”
His eyebrows knitted together.
"...Pretty?"
Another flood.
“SHE LEANED DOWN”
“WE SAW HER FACE 😛”
“KEONHO WHAT”
His eyes widened.
"...You saw her?"
He slowly replayed the camera preview sitting in the corner of his monitor. Sure enough, when you'd leaned down, your face had slipped perfectly into frame.
"...Oh,” He buried his face in both hands. "No way..."
♡
Attempting to continue his stream after that became impossible. He tried. He really did.
"...So according to the timeline-"
“SHE'S GORGEOUS”
"...The suspect-"
“Question! How did you pull her?”
"...Entered through-"
“IS YOUR GIRLFRIEND SINGLE”
He stopped writing altogether.
"...No."
Another comment appeared almost instantly.
“can i have her instagram then”
"Double no."
“what about her number”
"...triple no."
“please”
He looked directly into the camera.
"...She's not a giveaway."
The chat only laughed harder.
"So...no."
♡
A few minutes later, you wandered back into the office carrying a bowl of washed strawberries.
"You forgot these."
"I was literally just about to get them!"
"Rightttt."
You noticed him smiling strangely.
"...What?"
"They saw you."
"...Who?"
"My viewers."
You froze.
"...They what?"
Before you could process another word, the chat exploded again.
“SHE'S BACK”
“HI MOTHER”
“PLEASE WAVE IN VIEW!!”
You instinctively leaned closer to the monitor.
"...They're writing to me?"
"Mhm."
"Oh..."
You came in view slightly and smiled shyly before giving the tiniest little wave.
"H…hai!"
Yeah that was the end of it. The comments became unreadable.
“SHE WAVEDDDDDDDD!!!!!”
“I’m crying I’m so in love”
“PLEASE DATE ME”
“KEONHO MOVE”
You blinked, reading one of the comments coming in.
"...Date me?"
Keonho immediately jumped up from leaning back in his chair.
"...No."
You laughed, stepping back a bit.
"They're joking."
"I know. I hope…"
You reached over to fix the collar of his hoodie where it had folded underneath itself.
"There. You looked uncomfortable."
"I was, thank you."
Your fingers lingered for another second before you started to step away fully. Without really thinking, Keonho gently caught your wrist. You looked down at it, and then back at him.
"...Everything okay baby?"
"...Yeah," He smiled sheepishly. "...Just..."
Instead of answering, he carefully tugged you closer until you were standing between his knees. One arm rested loosely around your waist, and he looked up at you with the softest expression you'd ever seen. Then, without warning, he clicked one button.
STREAM PAUSED.
♡
Meanwhile, the chat absolutely lost its mind.
The frozen frame showed nothing except Keonho looking up at you like you'd just saved the word. His arm rested around your waist and you were smiling down at him.
The comments flew by faster than ever.
“They’re kissing I can just FEEL it”
“LOOK AT THE WAY HE'S STARING UGH”
“bro is gone omg”
“SO whipped for her”
“I’ve never seen someone look so in love 😭”
♡
"What are you doing?" you laughed.
"I paused."
"I can see that."
"They're being weird."
"They've been weird."
"They're complimenting you too much."
You tilted your head.
"...Are you jealous?"
"...No."
"Hmm."
"...Maybe a little."
You couldn't help smiling.
"They're just teasing you."
"I know, but you're still my girlfriend."
"I am."
"And they're not getting your number…or your Instagram."
"I wasn't planning on giving it to them."
"Good."
You laughed before leaning down to kiss him softly.
"There. Feel better?"
"...A lot."
♡
When the stream resumed, you were gone. The bowl of strawberries sat on the desk instead.
The chat immediately called him out.
“WHERE'D SHE GO”
“GIVE HER BACK”
“FREE HER”
Keonho casually popped one strawberry into his mouth.
"She's making dinner."
“Well YOU GO MAKE DINNER”
"...but then you’ll see her."
“SELFISH”
"I am,” He smiled without even trying to hide it. "I waited eight months before any of you even knew she existed. You'll survive."
♡
By the next Friday, Keonho had learned absolutely nothing. He adjusted his microphone and smiled toward the camera.
"Hey, guys! Welcome back."
Before chat could type a single message, he pointed toward the bottom right corner of the whiteboard where a tiny note already waited there.
“don't stay up too late tonight ♡”
He read it once. Then looked back into the camera with the most unapologetically smug smile imaginable.
"Yes. I know. My girlfriend wrote it."
The chat exploded before he even finished.
“WE KNOW”
“YOU SAY THAT EVERY WEEK”
“SHE'S OUR FAVORITE PART”
"...Now,” He uncapped his marker. "Can we please solve a murder?"
The first comment that appeared read:
“no”
Keonho sighed.
"...I was afraid you'd say that."
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: Not sure how I feel about this because I think it’s a cool idea…I just don’t know if I executed it well. And I’m also not so sure about the cliffhanger ending, I was trying something new. TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS!!!
hello can you do something where y/n and Martin are coworkers and something happens where they have to escape like that heeseung one you made (I think after something, I’m so sorry but that one was so good) also HEEESUNG HIS RED HAIR BROOOO
thanks xx
Last Shift
Pairing: coworker!Martin x fem!reader
Genre: Psychological thriller, suspense, hurt/comfort, romance, featured Kazuha from Le Sserafim
Synopsis: Closing shifts at IKEA were usually uneventful…until a routine night turns into a crazy game of survival after the store goes dark
Warning(s): Stalking themes, suspense, invasion/break-in, being chased, anxiety, panic, emotional distress, Martin cracks some jokes (he’s lowkey comic relief)
Word Count: ~7k+
A/N: Haiiii, thank you for requesting and this is so cool!! I actually really like writing After Hours so I’m so glad to be able to make something similar again. This time, in IKEA. 😂
Yesss I saw his red hair!! It’s so bittersweet for me though because last time he had it was during Enchella era… 🙁
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
The best part about working closing shifts at IKEA was how quiet it became. By 9:30, the endless stream of customers disappeared, abandoned shopping carts had all been returned to their rows, and the only sounds left inside the enormous building were soft conversations over walkie-talkies, distant wheels rolling across polished concrete, and the familiar music drifting lazily through the speakers overhead. For most people, it probably felt a little eerie. For you, it was peaceful.
You adjusted a row of neatly stacked throw blankets before taking one small step back. Perfect. Exactly straight. You smiled to yourself.
"...Y/N?"
Your walkie crackled softly against your hip and you quickly picked it up.
"Yeah?"
Martin's voice came through immediately.
"...Hypothetical question."
You couldn't help smiling already.
"...Okay."
"If someone accidentally built one of the display lamps upside down..." A pause. "...asking for a friend..." he breathed. "...Should they tell the manager?"
You laughed quietly beneath your breath.
"...Depends."
"On?"
"...How upside down are we talking?"
Another pause.
"...like…extremely."
"...Martin."
"I know."
"..."
"*sigh* I’m already fixing it."
"...Good."
"I just wanted emotional support."
"...You going to survive solider."
"Barely."
You shook your head fondly before clipping the walkie back onto your belt. That was just…Martin. He'd been working here since the store first opened three years ago. Everyone knew him. Customers knew him, managers trusted him, and new employees somehow ended up following him around without realizing it because he always knew where everything was.
He even joked with everyone! Talked to them, remembered everyone's birthdays somehow…meanwhile...you mostly kept to yourself. You weren't unfriendly, don’t get me wrong. Just...quiet. You preferred organizing shelves over making conversation, enjoyed helping customers one-on-one instead of speaking over the intercom, and if nobody talked to you...you were perfectly happy spending an entire shift in comfortable silence.
But Martin had somehow decided that wasn't acceptable. Not in an annoying way that irritated you, but every shift...without fail...he'd find some excuse to talk to you.
♡
"...You two are seriously saving my life."
Kazuha practically groaned as she hurried toward the employee lockers, already halfway out of her IKEA uniform jacket. Martin looked up from scanning clearance tags.
"...Bit dramatic."
"I'm leaving at six tomorrow morning."
"So?"
"I still haven't packed."
"...Oh."
"Exactly."
She pointed dramatically at both of you.
"If I don't start packing now, my suitcase is going to look as dry as my wallet."
You giggled quietly and Martin snorted.
"...Honestly?"
"...That's fair."
Kazuha clasped her hands together.
"So..." She looked between the two of you hopefully. "...Could you guys finish closing without me?"
Martin answered before you could.
"We got it."
"You sure?"
He gave an exaggerated salute.
"Go. You've officially been released from IKEA prison."
Kazuha laughed.
"I owe you both."
"You owe me snacks."
"I'll buy you snacks."
"You heard that, Y/N! I have a witness."
You smiled.
"I heard."
Kazuha grabbed her bag before pausing beside you.
"...Thank you girl, seriously."
"...Of course."
She squeezed your shoulder once before hurrying toward the employee exit. The heavy door swung shut behind her, and none of you thought anything of it.
♡
By 9:47...the store was almost completely ready for closing. Martin wandered through the Living Room displays checking price tags one final time while humming quietly to himself. His walkie buzzed again.
"...Marketplace's almost done."
Your voice. He smiled automatically.
"Copy that ma’am."
"You almost finished?"
"Almost."
"You've said almost everytime we get on the walkies."
"...I've been…preparing."
"For...?"
"Counting fake plants."
"...There are literally fifty even."
"...mhmm I got that too."
You laughed softly through the speaker and he grinned to himself.
Worth it.
♡
You carefully pushed one final shopping cart back into line before glancing around Marketplace. Almost finished. Just a few candles left, a couple picture frames, some decorative baskets, easy stuff. The overhead music floated softly above you while your phone buzzed briefly on your waist.
You ignored it. Probably your brother. He could wait five minutes.
You reached for another stack of folded kitchen towels. Then-
THUNK.
The sound echoed somewhere far beyond Marketplace. Heavy, metal, like something large had slammed into concrete.
You froze.
"...?"
A second later, your walkie crackled.
"...Y/N?"
Martin.
"...Yeah?"
"...Did you hear that?"
You slowly lowered the towels back onto the shelf.
"...The bang?"
"...Yeah."
"...I don't know what that was."
Silence. Then-
"...Where are you?"
You glanced toward the aisle marker hanging overhead.
"...Marketplace. Near the fake plants."
"...Okay," His voice stayed calm. "...Stay there. I'm coming."
"...Okay."
The radio clicked silent.
At nearly the exact same moment, the overhead music stopped. Abruptly.
You frowned.
"...Martin?"
No response. Then the ventilation, the constant low hum that had blended into the background all evening, disappeared. The sudden silence felt so…wrong. Before you could think much about it, tne row of lights flickered. Then another. Then another. Far across the showroom, darkness slowly began swallowing aisle after aisle. Slowly. Almost methodically. Like someone was turning the building off one section at a time. Your heartbeat quickened.
"...Martin?"
Only static answered. The lights above Marketplace blinked twice, and then- darkness. Emergency lighting quietly flickered on a heartbeat later, casting everything in a dim bluish glow that barely reached the tops of the displays. The enormous IKEA suddenly looked... completely unfamiliar. Quite scary, actually.
♡
Martin stared upward.
"...What the..."
The entire Living Room section sat beneath dim emergency lights now. He reached for his walkie again.
"...Y/N?"
Static.
"...Y/N?"
Nothing. His stomach tightened. Not because he thought something terrible had happened yet, he just felt…queasy now. Maybe a breaker blew…or maybe maintenance accidentally shut something off.
Still...something didn't feel right. He pulled his phone from his pocket and switched on the flashlight.
"...Seriously..."
Its beam cut through the darkness. Without another second's hesitation, he started walking toward Marketplace.
♡
You hesitated. Waiting. Martin said he was coming, right? You looked toward the dark aisle stretching ahead of you. Nothing. Silence. Maybe...maybe you should go meet him instead.
You swallowed before pulling your phone out and switching on the flashlight. Its beam swept carefully across rows of candles, plants, picture frames, and stuffed toys. Everything looked…different now. Bigger. The staged rooms cast strange shadows beneath the emergency lighting.
You slowly stepped forward.
"...Martin?"
No answer. Only your own footsteps. You rounded another corner and the flashlight swept lazily across another display. White couch, bookshelf, floor lamp, life sized statue of a man-
Wait. What the fuck. IKEA doesn’t sell that.
You slowly brought your flashlight back. Around 20 feet away, standing completely still, was a man. The light landed directly across a his face and his eyes met yours instantly.
Your entire body locked up. For one impossibly long second, you two just stared at each other.
His expression shifted. Confusion. Then...realization. Your breath caught.
Without thinking, you shut your flashlight off and ran.
♡
Your shoes pounded against the polished showroom floor. One aisle, then another, and another. You barely registered where you were running anymore, but the only thing echoing through your head was-
Someone's inside.
Someone's inside.
Someone's inside.
You ducked around a staged kitchen display, nearly knocking over a decorative stool before catching yourself at the last second. Your breathing came in short, uneven bursts as you kept your phone clutched tightly in one hand, the flashlight still switched off. Quickly, you set your phone to DND and clicked it off.
Don't turn it back on. If he can't see you…maybe he'll lose you.
Your heart hammered painfully against your ribs. Behind you, nothing. No footsteps, no shouting, no movement. Only eerie, restless silence.
That felt worse
♡
The man slowed to a stop and remained where he'd been standing for another second. He hadn't expected anyone, at least not this late. Certainly not another employee. His jaw tightened. She saw me.
He slowly turned toward the direction you'd disappeared. The store was almost completely dark now.
Good. Finding you wouldn't be easy, but neither would explaining why he was inside if you reached the police first.
Quietly, he started walking.
♡
Martin frowned as he rounded another display.
"...Y/N?"
His flashlight swept over sofas, coffee tables, artificial plants, but still nothing. He tried the walkie again, but he was met with static.
"...Seriously?" He smacked it lightly against his palm. "...Don't pick tonight to die."
Still nothing. His stomach twisted. He suddenly felt...far too small in this big store. And that? That was a first for him. He'd walked these aisles thousands of times. He knew every shortcut, every hidden employee hallway, every warehouse entrance, and even every emergency exit. Usually that knowledge made him feel more comfortable, but tonight...it only reminded him how many places someone could hide.
"...Okay,” He exhaled shakily. "...Don't panic."
His own voice sounded far less convincing than he'd hoped.
♡
You finally opened up your eyes again. You didn’t really want to, but your lungs burned in fright. You quickly shuffled over to a corner and pressed yourself against the side of a staged bedroom display, carefully peeking around the corner.
Nothing. Still nothing.
There has got to be a better place to hide that isn’t so open. You looked around quickly. The bedroom was elevated slightly on a platform, complete with wardrobes, bedside tables, and curtains hanging beside a fake window. Below the platform, there was just enough space for storage.
Or…someone your size.
Without wasting another second, you dropped to your knees and crawled underneath. Dust clung to the knees of your uniform almost immediately. You curled your legs tightly against your chest, and pulled your phone completely against your stomach after turning the brightness all the way down.
Then, you waited.
♡
Martin stopped walking.
"..."
Something. He thought he'd heard...
"...Y/N?"
Silence. Then, very faintly…a sniffle.
He froze. It came again, so quiet he almost convinced himself he'd imagined it. He slowly followed the sound between two staged bedrooms before crouching slightly.
"...Y/N?"
Nothing. His flashlight swept beneath one of the display platforms. Empty. Then another. Still nothing. One more-
There. Curled beneath the display bed, your arms wrapped around your knees, and your shoulders trembling.
Martin's heart immediately dropped.
"Oh-"
He stepped closer before stopping himself. Don't scare her. He slowly crouched instead.
"...Y/N?"
No response. You hadn't even looked up.
"...Hey..."
Still nothing. Very carefully, he reached out and lightly tapped your shoulder. You flinched so violently your hands flew up over your head and a strangled gasp escaped your throat.
"It's me,” Immediately. "It's me."
His voice softened so much it almost disappeared.
"I'm sorry- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
Your eyes finally focused on him.
"...Martin..."
Relief flooded across your face so suddenly it felt like a weight flew off your chest. Before you could overthink, you lunged forward wrapping your arms tightly around him.
Martin completely froze.
"..."
His brain? Yeah that shut off! Entirely.
Y/N...was hugging him. You. Were hugging him. He'd imagined what hugging you might feel like approximately...a completely normal amount of times. Heh, yeah definitely not an embarrassing amount. This though, hadn’t once been how he'd pictured it. Because right now you weren't hugging him because you liked him…sadly…but rather you were terrified. His expression softened immediately. Without another thought, he carefully wrapped both arms around you.
"It's okay,” His voice remained quiet. “I've got you."
Your breathing stayed uneven against his shoulder. You hadn't realized how badly you needed another person until that moment. You didn’t expect Martin to magically fix everything, but at least you weren't alone anymore.
♡
After another few moments, your breathing finally slowed enough for you to speak.
"...There's someone."
Martin nodded.
"...I know."
You quickly shook your head.
"No.” You looked up at him. "...I saw him."
His eyebrows furrowed.
"...What?"
"...He looked right at me,” You swallowed hard. “My flashlight...I turned the corner...He was just..." Your voice caught. "...Standing there."
Martin felt the blood drain from his face.
"...He saw you?"
A tiny nod.
"..."
"...Yeah."
Silence settled between both of you. Understanding now that someone wasn't just inside the store, someone knew you were inside too. Martin slowly glanced back toward the dark showroom before looking at you again.
"...Can you walk?"
You nodded.
"...Yeah."
"...Okay."
He stood first before offering you his hand. You looked down at it for only a second before taking it, and his fingers immediately tightened around yours firmly. Like he was silently making himself a promise.
I'm not losing her. Not in here. Not tonight.
♡
The two of you stepped carefully back into the dark aisle. Emergency lights barely illuminated the pathway ahead, and Martin switched his flashlight off.
You looked at him questioningly.
"...Wouldn't that help?"
He quietly shook his head.
"It helps him too."
"..."
"If he knows where our light is..."
"He knows where we are?"
"...Right."
He glanced around, thinking. Then quietly muttered-
"...Okay...think."
You blinked.
"...What?"
"I've worked here since opening day, right, He rubbed one hand down his face. "I literally helped build half these displays."
Despite the situation, a tiny laugh escaped you. He looked over.
"...What?"
"...Nothing."
"...No, what?"
"You said..." Another tiny smile. "...You literally helped build the place."
"I did."
"I know."
"..."
"...It just sounded funny."
Martin stared at you for a second before letting out one nervous laugh of his own.
"...Well..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "...Glad my furniture trauma could entertain you."
Your eyes widened.
"...Martin."
"What?"
"...Don't joke about that."
"I wasn't joking."
"..."
"...That was a cry for help."
For the first time since everything began, you actually smiled for a second…but Martin caught it. And somehow that made him feel just a little less afraid.
Then, a faint metallic clang echoed somewhere deeper inside the showroom. Both of your smiles disappeared instantly and Martin's hand instinctively tightened around yours.
"...Run."
Neither of you hesitated.
♡
The two of you ran. Not blindly, though. Martin kept pulling you around corners before you could even process where you were actually going. Left, straight, through Dining, past Children's IKEA. He barely looked at the signs anymore. I mean…he didn't have to. He'd memorized the entire floor plan years ago.
Your hand remained locked in his. Only once the footsteps behind you disappeared did Martin slow.
"...Okay,” He bent over slightly, hands on his knees. "...Okay."
You mirrored him a few feet away, trying to catch your breath.
"...You..." He looked up between breaths. "...You're fast."
"...Sorry?"
"I almost..." He pointed weakly toward where you'd just come from. "...Lost you."
You blinked.
"...I used to run track."
"...Seriously?"
"...Freshman year."
He let out one exhausted laugh.
"...That's actually..." He took another breath. "...Really useful information."
"...I didn't know you’d need it."
"...Neither did I."
♡
Silence settled around both of you again. Definitely not peaceful silence, but listening.
Waiting for something to happen. The emergency lights buzzed softly overhead and somewhere far away a shopping cart wheel squeaked. Neither of you moved.
Martin slowly straightened.
"...Okay,” He looked around. "...We're by Bedrooms."
You followed his gaze. Rows of staged rooms stretched into darkness.
"...Warehouse is..." He pointed vaguely ahead. "...That way."
"...Can we get outside through there?"
"...Eventually."
"...Eventually?"
"...There's an employee exit…eventually."
"..."
"...You're really hanging onto that word."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"...I just...don't want to lie to you."
Your shoulders relaxed ever so slightly.
"...Okay."
"...Okay,” He nodded once. "...We'll get there."
♡
You had only taken a few more careful steps before Martin suddenly stopped so fast you nearly walked into him. His arm instinctively moved across in front of you. Protective.
You froze.
"...What?"
“Can I use that?” He said, pointing toward your watch.
You quickly look down and nod slowly, a little confused. He softly took your wrist in his hand and slowly turned the flashlight, directing your wrist to face the floor. Your stomach dropped.
Fresh footprints. Dark and dusty leading across the polished concrete. You could tell it wasn’t employee shoes. Heavy boots. They hadn't been there earlier.
Martin stared at them.
"...Those...aren't ours."
"...No,” You whispered. "...They're not."
The footprints disappeared between two staged bedrooms. Neither of you said anything.
Eventually, Martin slowly looked at you.
"...New plan."
"...Yeah?"
"...Let's not go..." He pointed toward the footprints. "...There."
"...Sounds good."
The two of you quietly backed away and Martin kept glancing over his shoulder every few seconds. Your eyes stayed fixed ahead, but between the two of you, you almost managed to cover every direction.
Almost.
♡
"...Can I ask you something?"
Martin whispered after another minute. You looked over.
"...Now?"
"...I know,” He winced. "...Timing."
"...Slightly."
"...But..." He hesitated. "...When you hugged me..."
Your face immediately warmed.
"..."
"...That..."
"...Sorry."
"No!"
His answer came much louder than intended. He immediately lowered his voice again.
"...No…don't apologize. I just..." His ears turned pink. "...Wanted to make sure...you weren't embarrassed."
You blinked.
"...Why would I be embarrassed?"
"...Because..." He gestured awkwardly. "...People usually don't..." He pinched his nose bridge and lowered his voice a bit. "...Throw themselves at coworkers."
Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped you.
"...I was scared."
"...I know."
"...I would've hugged anybody."
Martin nodded dramatically.
"...Fantastic…that's exactly what every man dreams of hearing."
You covered your mouth to hide another laugh.
"...Martin."
"What?"
"...You're ridiculous."
"...Thank you."
"I wasn't complimenting you."
"...I'm choosing to hear it that way."
He smiled. Small and definitely nervous…but real. Then-
CRASH.
Something heavy slammed somewhere behind you. Both of you jumped.
"...Nope.” Martin grabbed your wrist this time. "...We're leaving."
♡
They ran again. This time weaving through Kitchens and cabinets towered on either side. The emergency lights cast long shadows between glossy countertops, and everything just looked…wrong. Like the displays had somehow become a maze overnight. Martin suddenly ducked into a nearby living room wardrobe and gently pulled you down with him.
"...Wait."
The two of you crouched silently before shutting the doors. His breathing remained uneven, but yours wasn't much better. Then...footsteps. Slow. Measured. Echoing across the concrete. Not running anymore, no. Walking. Like whoever it was...wasn't worried.
Your heartbeat pounded painfully inside your ears. The footsteps grew closer and closer until it felt like they were in your head.
Martin instinctively shifted. Not away from you, in front of you. Just slightly. Enough that if someone rounded the corner and saw through the crack, they'd see him first.
You noticed. Your eyes lifted toward him, but he didn't look down at you. Instead, he kept watching the aisle ahead. Completely focused, yet one hand still firmly holding yours.
The footsteps stopped. Silence. Neither of you dared breathe. Then, a man's voice broke it. Quiet and almost…conversational.
"...I know somebody's here."
Your entire body went rigid. The voice continued.
"...Come out, little girl, " Silence. "...I'm not going to hurt you."
Martin actually rolled his eyes and you looked at him in disbelief. He leaned over the tiniest bit and whispered so quietly you almost didn't hear it-
"...See? Definitely a bad guy…good guys don't say that."
Even now...he couldn't help himself. It was barely a joke. More like...his brain refusing to stop trying to keep you calm.
Against every ounce of logic, the corner of your mouth twitched. Just a little, but Martin caught it. His shoulders relaxed by maybe half an inch.
Good. If you could still smile, then maybe, just maybe…you were both going to make it out of here.
♡
The man was still moving slowly. The faint beam from his flashlight swept across the showroom floor in lazy arcs, lingering over staged kitchens and living room displays as if he had all the time in the world.
"...Little girl,” His voice echoed through the darkness, soft and playful. "I know you're here."
You instinctively buried her face closer against Martin's shoulder, closing her eyes tight. He felt her shake small enough that he noticed. His jaw tightened. Without thinking, he shifted even more, putting himself between you and the direction the voice had come from. The movement was tiny. Protective, but instinctive.
The man laughed quietly.
"I won't hurt you..." Another pause. "...if you come out."
Martin's eyebrows pulled together.
"...Yeah," he whispered under his breath. "I don't believe that for a second."
You let out the smallest, shakiest breath that almost sounded like a laugh. Almost.
Martin glanced down.
"...There."
You looked up slightly.
"...What?"
"You almost laughed."
"I..."
"You almost did."
"I didn't."
"You absolutely almost did."
Even now, even hiding inside an IKEA display while someone searched for them, he was still trying. Trying to make things feel even one percent less terrifying. It made something ache quietly inside your chest.
The flashlight beam disappeared again and silence settled. Neither of them moved for one minute. Then two. Then three. Nothing.
Martin slowly leaned toward your ear.
"...I think he kept walking."
You barely nodded.
"...Maybe.“
Another few seconds passed before he risked the tiniest glance around the edge of the wardrobe. Empty.
"...Okay,” He exhaled slowly. "I think we're moving."
You swallowed.
"...Where?"
Martin's eyes scanned the darkness. His expression changed.
"...Storage."
"...The warehouse?"
He nodded once.
"Yeah."
"But..." You frowned. "...That's farther away."
"I know."
"So why-"
"Because..." he whispered, "I practically built this place from the ground up."
You blinked.
"...What?"
"When IKEA first opened..." He pointed vaguely toward the ceiling. "I helped assemble almost every showroom."
"...Seriously?"
"Mhm."
"You?"
"I know."
"You don't look very handy."
"...Wow."
"I mean..."
"I appreciate your honesty."
"I didn't mean-"
"I've built like..." he quietly counted on his fingers. "...forty-seven fake bedrooms."
You stared.
"...You're joking."
"I'm actually underselling it."
Another tiny pause.
"I know shortcuts, employee hallways, maintenance access, loading docks, and places customers don't know exist,” his eyes met yours. "If we can make it to warehouse storage...I can get us out."
You looked toward the darkness again, and then back at him.
"...Okay."
Martin smiled. Small but extremely nervous.
"...Cool,” Another beat. "...One tiny issue."
You immediately tensed again.
"...What?"
"...We have to leave the wardrobe."
Your face immediately fell.
"...Right."
"...Yeah."
"...I liked the wardrobe. I was honestly getting attached."
That actually made you smile. Tiny. Martin looked at you.
"...Hey."
"What?"
"...You smiled."
You immediately looked away.
"I did not."
"You literally did."
"...No."
"I saw it."
"...You're hallucinating."
"...Probably,” He nodded thoughtfully. "I've been in IKEA too long."
You quietly rolled your eyes.
"...You're unbelievable."
"Haha, there she is."
"...What?"
"That was sarcasm."
"I can be sarcastic."
"I was beginning to think you came with factory settings."
You lightly bumped his shoulder.
"...Be quiet."
Martin froze dramatically.
"...You assaulted me."
"Oh my gosh."
"I'll be filing paperwork."
"...Martin."
"...Sorry,” His smile faded naturally as he became serious again. "...Ready?"
You took one slow breath before nodding.
"...Ready."
He slowly pushed the wardrobe door open. Darkness waited outside.
"Stay right behind me," he whispered. "I know this place, and I'm getting you out."
Without another word, the two of them slipped back into the dark IKEA showroom.
Somewhere behind them...another flashlight clicked on.
♡
The showroom felt completely different once you stepped back into it. During the day, IKEA was bright and comfortable. Families wandered through fake kitchens arguing over cabinets while little kids flopped dramatically onto display beds pretending to live there, but now every staged apartment looked abandoned in the dark. Every couch looked like somewhere someone could be hiding, and even every shadow seemed just a little too dark. Martin stayed half a step ahead of you, one hand lightly reaching behind himself every few seconds until his fingertips brushed your wrist.
Just enough to make sure you were still there.
Neither of you spoke, afraid whoever was out there would hear you. Your watch was turned back on earlier, casting only the faintest glow across the polished concrete floor while Martin quietly guided you between displays.
Suddenly, he stopped, making you almost walk into his back.
"...What?"
He pointed toward a tiny gray door tucked between the children's bedroom section and the office furniture.
"So..." He whispered. "Fun fact."
"...Now?"
"I cope with fear by oversharing."
"...Fair."
"That door?" He nodded toward it. "Customers think it's storage."
"It isn't?"
"Nope."
"...Break room?"
"No."
"...Bathroom?"
"No."
"...Secret IKEA snack room?"
"...Honestly, that would've been cooler."
You couldn't help it. A tiny laugh escaped before you quickly covered your mouth. Martin looked over his shoulder.
"Haha, there it is again."
"...Don't."
"You laughed."
"I did not."
"You literally-"
A loud scrape echoed somewhere behind you, making you jump. Both of you froze suddenly. The sound wasn't close, but it wasn't far enough away either.
Martin slowly turned his head. Nothing. Just darkness stretching between rows of bookshelves and dining tables.
Another scrape. Closer.
Your fingers instinctively found the back of his uniform, grabbing a fistful of the blue fabric without even thinking.
Martin looked down briefly. Then very quietly, he reached back and intertwined your fingers with his.
"I'm right here," His voice barely existed. "You don't have to let go."
Your heart hammered so loudly you wondered if the other random man could hear it.
Martin slowly pushed the gray door open. A narrow employee hallway stretched in front of you with concrete walls and the emergency lights glowing faintly every twenty feet.
"...See?" He whispered. "Secret employee hallway."
"...You were telling the truth."
"I usually do."
"...Usually?"
"...Let's focus."
You nodded quickly. The hallway muffled the sounds from the showroom almost immediately. Thankfully. For the first time in nearly twenty minutes, it actually felt quieter. Safer.
Martin carefully closed the door behind the two of you before leaning against it.
"...Okay,” He finally exhaled. "I think we bought ourselves a minute."
You leaned against the wall near him.
"...Martin?"
"...Yeah?"
"...Thank you."
He blinked.
"...For what?"
"For coming to find me."
His expression softened immediately.
"I wasn't going to leave you here."
"I know."
"...I would've checked every fake apartment in this building if I had to."
Your chest tightened.
"...Really?"
He looked at you like the answer was obvious.
"Obviously."
Silence settled between you. The emergency lights buzzed softly overhead.
Martin suddenly looked down.
"...Your hand."
You looked too. He was still holding it.
"...Oh."
Neither of you moved.
"...Sorry."
He started pulling away. Without really thinking, you tightened your fingers slightly.
Martin stopped. His eyes lifted to yours.
"...You can..." You swallowed. "...You can keep holding it."
For a second...he forgot there was someone chasing the two of you. His brain completely short-circuited.
"...Seriously?"
Your face immediately warmed.
"I just..." You looked away. "...It makes me feel less scared."
Martin's heart practically exploded.
"...Cool,” He cleared his throat, running his hands through his hair nervously. "...Yeah, chill…me too."
Before either of you could say another word, a heavy bang slammed against the other side of the hallway door. Both of you jumped.
Another bang, harder this time. The metal handle rattled violently as Martin's face drained of color.
"...He found us."
Another slam. The hinges groaned.
Martin looked farther down the hallway, and then back at you. His grip tightened around your hand.
"...Just run."
And this time when he pushed off the door, you both ran like your life depended on it.
I mean…it kind of did.
♡
The hallway seemed to stretch forever beneath the dull glow of emergency lights.
Your shoes slapped loudly against the concrete floor as you ran a bit slower so Martin could pull you around every corner. He kept your hand firmly wrapped in his as another deafening crash echoed behind you. The hallway door finally gave way as metal scraped across concrete. Then, footsteps. Fast.
"...He's coming!"
You didn't have enough breath to answer. Martin glanced over his shoulder once before immediately looking forward again.
"...Okay,” His voice sounded much calmer than he actually felt. "...Little problem."
"...Martin!"
"I'm thinking!"
He skidded around another corner, nearly dragging you with him. Your shoulder bumped lightly into his arm.
"Sorry!"
"It's okay!"
"No, it's not!"
"It really isn't but we'll unpack that later!"
You would've laughed under any other circumstance. Instead, your lungs burned. The footsteps behind you grew louder. Closer. Martin suddenly stopped so abruptly that you nearly collided into him.
"...Wait."
"What?! We have NO time to talk.”
His eyes darted across the hallway.
"...Come on."
He shoved open another heavy gray door and cold air rushed toward both of you immediately. It was the warehouse. Your eyes widened. Towering shelves disappeared into darkness several stories above your heads. Flat-packed furniture stretched in endless rows, massive pallets, and forklifts parked between aisles. Everything smelled faintly of cardboard and fresh wood.
"...Martin..."
He nodded once.
"...This way."
You followed him deeper between the shelves. The emergency lights barely reached this section, making everything feel even more enormous. Like the furniture itself was swallowing the two of you whole.
Another distant voice echoed through the warehouse.
"...Little girl...I know you’re with someone."
Your stomach dropped. He'd followed you.
Martin looked around quickly. His eyes suddenly lit up.
"...There."
"What?"
He pointed upward. Storage racks. Each aisle had metal ladders attached to the sides for employees.
"...We're climbing."
"...Those?"
"They're weighted for way more than us."
"...That's not what I'm worried about!"
He grabbed the ladder first.
"You first."
You didn't argue. Adrenaline made climbing easier than it should've been. Martin stayed directly beneath you the entire time, one hand hovered near your ankle. Not touching, but keeping caution.
You finally pulled yourself onto the wide metal platform stacked with unopened bookshelves and cabinets. Martin climbed after you, and just as he swung one leg onto the platform-
Flashlight. A bright beam swept across the aisle below. Both of you froze.
"...There,”The man's voice echoed through the warehouse. "I heard you."
Martin's breathing immediately became shallow. Without thinking, he gently grabbed your wrist and slowly pulled you against him. Your head rested against his chest, one of his hands instinctively covered the bright yellow IKEA logo on the back of your uniform, and the other rested lightly around your shoulder. Not squeezing you, but keeping you hidden. His heartbeat hammered against your back so violently you could actually feel it.
It wasn't just you. He was terrified too.
The flashlight beam swept beneath the shelves. Slower now. Searching.
"...Come on..." The man muttered quietly to himself. "...I know somebody's here."
You stopped breathing altogether, and Martin leaned closer. His lips barely brushed your ear as he whispered-
"...Don't move. It’s okay."
You nodded the tiniest amount possible. The flashlight continued drifting underneath your platform. One step, then another, then...it stopped. Directly below you. Your entire body locked. Martin slowly tightened his hold around you protectively. The silence became unbearable. Then-
Crack.
The man looked down.
"...What..."
Martin frowned slightly. That sound hadn't come from either of you. Another crack echoed somewhere farther down the warehouse. Followed by-
"...Hello?"
A voice. Tinny. Electronic. Then Martin's eyes widened. The walkie. Your walkie. It had slipped off your belt sometime during the chase. The emergency channel suddenly crackled to life.
"...Martin?"
Static.
"...Martin, Y/N, respond."
Both of your eyes widened. Martin recognized the voice immediately. Night security. The intruder did too. He turned toward the sound instantly, and the flashlight disappeared down another aisle.
Martin didn't move. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. Only after the footsteps faded did he finally let out the breath he'd been holding.
"...Oh my gosh..." He whispered. "...I could kiss whoever left that radio on."
You turned your head slightly.
"...Maybe wait until we're not almost dying."
He blinked.
"...Good point."
Before either of you could move, the warehouse erupted with noise. Voices. Several of them.
"POLICE!"
"SHOW ME YOUR HANDS!"
"STATE POLICE!"
Flashlights flooded the warehouse from three different directions. The intruder shouted something neither of you could make out. Then, running footsteps. A struggle. Someone yelled-
"GET HIM DOWN!"
Another officer shouted-
"CUFF HIM!"
The sounds echoed through the towering shelves before everything finally went quiet. Martin stayed exactly where he was for another few seconds. Just to be sure. Then he looked down at you.
"...I think..." He swallowed. "...I think it's over."
♡
Neither of you moved yet. Martin still had one arm loosely around your shoulders, and your fingers were still tangled together. Below, voices continued echoing through the warehouse.
"Clear this aisle!"
"Watch your footing!"
"I've got cuffs!"
Another officer shouted,
"Anyone else inside?"
Martin finally managed to find his voice.
It came out surprisingly hoarse.
"...We're…we’re up here."
Silence. Then several flashlights immediately swung upward.
"...Police!"
One officer looked up toward the storage platform.
"...Can either of you climb down safely?"
Martin looked at you first.
"...Can you?"
You nodded weakly.
"...I think so."
"I'll be right behind you."
The officer below shook his head.
"Negative,” He pointed toward another officer already wheeling over a rolling warehouse staircase. "We'll come up."
Only then did Martin finally let go of you. Almost reluctantly. You hadn't realized how tightly he'd been holding you until the warmth disappeared. Within another minute, two officers climbed onto the platform.
"It's alright,” One of them spoke gently, seeing your uniforms. "You're safe now."
Safe. The word felt…strange. Like it belonged to somebody else.
The officer helped you down first, and your legs immediately wobbled when they reached the concrete.
"...Easy,” He steadied your elbow. "You've been through a lot."
You nodded quietly.
"...Thank you."
Martin climbed down right after you. The moment both of his feet touched the ground, something changed. You saw it instantly. His shoulders, which had stayed squared the entire night, dropped. His breathing also became uneven, and he looked toward the aisle where officers were still gathered around the handcuffed man.
Then he looked toward you…and then his hands. They were shaking. Not a little. Badly. He stared at them for a second like they belonged to somebody else.
"...Martin?"
He blinked.
"...Huh?"
"You okay?"
"...Yeah,” His voice cracked. "...Yeah."
He wasn't. Not even close. One officer approached carefully.
"You two need medical evaluation."
"We're fi-"
Martin stopped halfway through the sentence. His knees suddenly gave out just enough that he caught himself against one of the warehouse shelves.
"...Whoa."
You reached him before anyone else could.
"Martin."
He laughed once. A tiny, embarrassed sound.
"...That's..." He rubbed one hand across his face. "...Kind of pathetic."
"No,” You stepped directly in front of him. "...It's really not."
"I was fine like..." He looked down at his still-shaking hands. "...Thirty seconds ago."
"I know."
"I don't..." He swallowed. "...I don't know what's happening."
The officer beside you smiled gently.
"Adrenaline,” Both of you looked over. "Happens all the time."
He nodded toward Martin's hands.
"Your body's finally realizing you're safe."
Martin let out another shaky breath.
"...That's...really inconvenient timing."
You couldn't help smiling. Even now, even while shaking, be was still trying to make somebody laugh. Without a second thought, you reached forward and took both of his hands in yours. They were freezing.
"It's okay,” You spoke quietly. "You don't have to pretend anymore."
Martin looked at you. Really looked at you. For the first time all night, his eyes looked glassy.
"...I thought..." His voice barely existed. "...I thought he found you."
Your chest tightened painfully.
"When I heard you scream..." He shook his head once. “...I genuinely thought..."
He couldn't finish the sentence. Didn't need to. You already knew.
Without another word, you stepped forward and hugged him. This time, he didn't hesitate even a little. His arms wrapped around you almost instantly, his forehead resting lightly against the top of your head.
One shaky breath escaped him. Then another. The officer quietly looked away, giving both of you the privacy neither of you realized you needed.
♡
About twenty minutes later, you and Martin sat side by side on the curb outside IKEA beneath matching silver emergency blankets. Blue and red lights flashed across the nearly empty parking lot, several police cars surrounded the loading dock entrance, and paramedics moved quietly between officers. Martin had finally stopped shaking. Mostly.
A detective walked toward the two of you carrying a small notebook.
"You two alright?"
You nodded.
"I think so."
He sighed quietly.
"You were incredibly lucky tonight."
Martin frowned.
"...What do you mean?"
The detective glanced back toward the building.
"The suspect wasn't there to rob the store,” Both of you looked up. “He'd been stalking one of your coworkers."
"...Kazuha?"
The detective nodded once.
"We found dozens of photographs in his vehicle,” Your stomach dropped. "Photos taken outside the employee entrance…her schedule…handwritten notes…maps."
Martin's expression slowly drained of color.
"...He thought she was closing tonight."
"Correct."
The detective closed his notebook.
"When he got inside..."
"He realized someone else was there."
"...Us."
"He likely decided witnesses couldn't be left behind."
Silence. Neither of you spoke. There was just so much to digest. The detective eventually continued.
"The scraping sound your coworker reported..." He nodded toward Martin. "...Came from a pallet jack. It rolled into the electrical breaker after he climbed through the emergency loading entrance."
Martin slowly nodded.
"...That's what I heard."
"The power outage was completely accidental. Unfortunately..." He looked back toward the warehouse. "Everything after that wasn't."
Silence settled again. You slowly looked toward Martin, and he was already looking at you. Neither of you said anything…because both of you were thinking the exact same thing.
If he'd found Kazuha...neither of you would've been there. If Kazuha hadn't left early...neither of you would've spent the night running through a dark IKEA.
The realization settled quietly between you.
Equal parts terrifying...and unbelievably lucky.
♡
The parking lot had finally started emptying.
Most of the police cars were gone now, leaving only a few detectives near the loading dock while an officer locked the emergency entrance behind bright yellow tape.
The sky had begun turning pale. Morning. Neither of you had realized how long the night had been. Martin glanced toward you from the curb.
"...Can I walk you home? Isn’t it just near by…?"
You blinked.
"...You don't have to."
"I know…I want to."
For a moment, you simply looked at him. He'd spent hours making jokes to keep you calm, held you when you were terrified, found you when you thought you were completely alone, and somehow...he was still asking instead of assuming. A tiny smile finally appeared.
"...Okay."
♡
The walk was quiet. The kind that didn't need filling. The early morning air felt cool against your face after everything that had happened inside the dark warehouse. Every so often, Martin would glance toward the road before looking back at you. Halfway home, you noticed it.
"...Martin?"
"Hm?"
"...You're doing it again."
"What?"
"You keep looking at me."
His ears turned pink immediately.
"...Do I?"
"...Mhm."
"...Sorry."
"...Don't apologize,” You smiled softly. "...It's kind of sweet."
His face somehow became even redder.
"...Oh."
Silence settled again. Then-
"...I wasn't really checking."
You looked over.
"I just..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "...Wanted to make sure you hadn't…y’know…disappeared."
Your chest warmed.
"...I'm still here."
"...Good."
♡
Eventually...you reached your apartment building. Neither of you moved toward the entrance immediately. The moment stretched quietly between you as Martin shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other.
"...So..."
"...So."
"...I have a question."
You tilted your head slightly.
"...Okay."
He looked at the ground, then at you, and then immediately back at the ground.
"...I don't think pretending we're just coworkers is working anymore."
Your eyebrows lifted.
"...No?"
He laughed softly.
"...Not for me."
Silence.
"...I've…liked you..." He paused. "...For a while." "...P…probably longer than I realized."
"..."
"...And after tonight..." He smiled sheepishly. "...Almost dying together feels like a weird way to realize I really don't want to waste any more time."
You couldn't stop smiling.
"...Martin."
"...Y…yeah?"
"...You know..." You stepped a little closer. "...I don't think pretending we're just coworkers has been working for me either."
He stared.
"...Wait."
"...Really?"
You nodded.
"...Really."
For once...Park Martin Edwards had absolutely nothing to say.
"..."
"..."
"...Seriously?"
You laughed.
"...Seriously. Is it hard to believe?"
He covered his face with both hands.
"...I have spent..." A groan escaped him. "...Months trying to impress you."
"...I noticed."
His eyes widened.
"...You noticed?"
"...Eventually."
"...This is the most embarrassed I've ever been."
"I figured..."
"...Please stop smiling."
"I can't."
"...You're making it worse."
"I know."
He sighed dramatically.
"...Unbelievable."
After a few moments of silence, and Martin collecting himself…he started again.
"...Would you..." He looked at you again. "...Maybe…perchance if you’ve got any…y’know…free time…go to dinner with me? A place without furniture displays of course."
You laughed.
"...I'd like that."
"...Really?"
"...Really."
Martin smiled so widely it reached his eyes.
"...Okay."
"...Okay."
Immediately, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms gently around him. This hug felt…different. Not desperate or frightened or because you needed someone to comfort you like before...but because you wanted to this time.
Martin froze for exactly one second before carefully hugging you back. Like he was afraid this moment would end so soon.
"...I'm really glad you're okay."
He whispered it so quietly you almost didn't hear him. You smiled against his shoulder.
"...Me too."
♡
EPILOGUE
About three months later, Martin had somehow become convinced that everyone at IKEA knew you were dating. Mostly because they absolutely did.
"...Hey!" One cashier walked past grinning.
"Date after work again?"
Martin didn't even pretend to deny it anymore.
"...Perhaps..."
"He's blushing!"
"I'm not!"
"You literally are!"
Across the showroom floor, you laughed quietly while straightening a stack of decorative pillows. Martin looked over automatically, recognizing the sound, just in time to catch you smiling at him. He smiled back without thinking, and one of the warehouse employees sighed dramatically.
"...You two make me barf."
Another nodded.
"...Actually nauseating."
Martin shrugged proudly.
"...Thanks!"
"...That wasn't a compliment."
"I know."
"I chose to receive it as one."
You shook your head, laughing as you walked over.
"...Ready to go?"
Martin immediately reached for your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"...Always."
The two of you walked toward the employee exit together. Past bookshelves, past kitchens, past living room displays, and past the aisle where everything had changed.
Neither of you looked at it for very long. Because now, the memory that stayed with you wasn't the darkness.
It was the person who had found you in it.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: How was the IKEA romance guys. 🤭 I hope this lives up to the hype that my After Hours story did, and thank you again for requesting!!
Permanent Taglist: @kienhawon @seonghwaswifeuuuu
