Chapter Text
Everyone at Coer High knew one thing:
If Juhoon smiled at you, you were done for.
It didn’t matter if you were a top student, a delinquent, the basketball captain, or the quiet kid in the back. One soft curve of his lips and your brain would shut down like a broken computer.
Lean frame. Pretty face. Soft cheeks, plump lips, calm eyes. Always chill. Always composed.
The school prince.
No… princess.
Because despite being able to throw someone over his shoulder without breaking a sweat, everyone treated him like royalty. People carried his bag. Opened doors. Bought him drinks. Fought for his attention.
And Martin?
Martin was losing his mind.
He stood at 6’3ft of chaotic devotion. Broad shoulders. Handsome in the unfair, movie-lead kind of way. Loud laugh. Always wearing headphones around his neck because he was producing some new track. Teachers either loved him or had weekly migraines because of him.
And he was absolutely, hopelessly, pathetically in love with Juhoon.
“Bro,” Keonho sighed as Martin slammed his locker shut dramatically, “you cannot challenge every guy who looks at him.”
“Yes, I can,” Martin replied immediately.
Seunghyeon blinked. “You fought the entire third-floor hallway yesterday.”
“They started it.”
“They said good morning.”
“Exactly.”
Across the courtyard, Juhoon stood beside James, sunlight catching in his soft brown hair. James was talking animatedly while Juhoon listened with that faint, almost secret smile.
People whispered all the time.
They look good together.
Are they dating?
James is always next to him.
Martin’s jaw tightened.
He hated the way his chest squeezed every time he saw them together.
“Just confess,” Keonho said.
“I did.”
“You tripped over a chair and accidentally asked him about homework.”
“It was romantic in my head.”
.
.
.
.
.
The First Fight
It happened during lunch.
Some guy from the basketball team boldly slid into Juhoon’s seat.
“I’ll win regionals for you,” he said confidently. “Be my date to the after-party?”
The cafeteria held its breath.
Juhoon blinked once.
Before he could answer, a chair screeched loudly across the floor.
Martin.
He walked over like a storm in human form.
“Regionals?” Martin scoffed. “That’s it? That’s your grand gesture?”
The guy stood. “What’s your problem?”
“My problem,” Martin said, cracking his knuckles, “is that you think you deserve him.”
Gasps.
Juhoon rested his chin in his hand, watching. Calm. Almost… amused.
“You wanna go?” the basketball captain snapped.
Martin grinned.
Ten minutes later, the entire cafeteria was in chaos. Not full-on brawl chaos — but enough shoving, grappling, and dramatic tension to send teachers running.
And Martin won.
Of course he did.
He wasn’t just tall. He was strong. Fast. Wildly protective.
He turned toward Juhoon, breathing hard, hair messy, lip slightly split.
“I’ll fight anyone,” he said, voice softer now. “You don’t need regionals. Or trophies. Or promises.”
The cafeteria was dead silent.
“I’ll just… choose you every time.”
Juhoon’s lashes lowered slightly.
“Are you done?” Juhoon asked calmly.
Martin froze.
“…What?”
“You’re bleeding.”
“Oh.”
Juhoon stood up.
And that’s when everyone remembered something important.
Juhoon might look delicate. Pretty. Soft.
But he could fight.
He stepped closer and gently wiped the blood from Martin’s lip with his thumb.
Martin short-circuited.
“You’re loud,” Juhoon continued. “You’re chaotic. You pick fights like a caveman.”
The entire student body collectively prepared for rejection.
“But,” Juhoon added quietly, eyes meeting his, “you’re the only one who fights without asking what you’ll get in return.”
Martin forgot how to breathe.
James, watching from behind, smirked knowingly.
The Secret
The truth?
Juhoon had noticed Martin months ago.