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The first time Martin met Seonghyeon was at their university’s freshman inauguration.
To this day, Martin could recall it with embarrassing clarity. The grey hoodie. The way it hung slightly oversized on Seonghyeon’s frame. Bright, sharp eyes paired with a default scowl on pretty face that could probably intimidate half the crowd. For most people, that expression would’ve been enough to stay away. For Martin, though? It looked like a kitten mid-tantrum so what a grown man did to a kitten looking lost and cute? Of course he approached.
“Hi, are you also a freshman here?”
The look Seonghyeon gave him could have made a grown man reconsider all his life choices. Assessing. Unimpressed.
Martin, unfortunately, found it adorable (and in retrospect, maybe that was The Moment. Maybe that was the exact second everything tilted into something more. But Martin would rather bite his tongue than admit to something as cliché as love at first sight.)
“Yeah,” Seonghyeon replied. “What major are you in? I’m in the music department.”
Martin blinked, then broke into a grin. “Oh. Me too.”
And then, Seonghyeon smiled. It was small, fleeting, but it changed everything. Like someone had flipped a switch behind his face, from a kitten mid-tantrum to something bright, lighting him up from the inside. If smiles could shimmer, his did. If eyes could spill rainbow-colored glitters, Martin’s probably did right then and there.
Seonghyeon’s smile didn’t just brighten his face. It lit up Martin’s entire world like Christmas lights strung across a quiet neighborhood and from then on he has lifetime mission to always put a smile on Seonghyeon’s face.
After that, they became inseparable.
It didn’t take long before people started referring to them as a unit. If Seonghyeon was somewhere, Martin wasn’t far behind. If Martin showed up first, Seonghyeon would follow soon after. They moved in sync without trying, orbiting each other like it was the most natural thing in the world.
There was one moment though, one that stood out from the rest, when Martin realized his ridiculous, growing crush might not be entirely one-sided.
Their university held an annual music festival, a stage for indie bands across campus. Perform, impress the crowd, and you might just walk away with prize money and a reputation.
As freshmen, they weren’t expected to join. Which was exactly why their seniors pushed them into it. “Good for your portfolio,” they said. “Good for exposure.”
Martin suspected it was also for their entertainment. Preparation days blurred together. Late nights in practice rooms. Half-finished meals. Lyrics scribbled and crossed out and rewritten again. The kind of exhaustion that felt oddly satisfying. One night, they ended practice past 1 AM. Too tired to wait for the campus bus, they decided to walk back to the dorms instead. Side by side, quiet for once.
Martin noticed it first, Seonghyeon kept bringing his hands up, blowing warm air into them.
“Are you cold, Seonghyeon-ah?”
“Not really,” he muttered. “I just forgot my jacket.”
Martin didn’t hesitate.
“You can use mine. Here.”
He shrugged off his black leather jacket and held it out. Seonghyeon hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to get cold too.”
“It’s fine,” Martin said easily, already draping it over his shoulders, “I run hot anyway.” He punctuated it with a wink.
Seonghyeon groaned instantly. “Ugh, you’re so gross.” But he didn’t take the jacket off.
And seconds later, they were both laughing, loud and unfiltered, echoing down the empty path like two idiots who had forgotten the rest of the world existed.
After that night, walking together became a habit. Bus rides were abandoned without discussion (and if anyone asked, Martin would deny that it was because he wanted to spend more time with Seonghyeon)
The night before the festival, they walked the same route again. Streetlights stretched their shadows long across the pavement.
“Hey,” Martin said casually, hands in his pockets. “Remember that black leather jacket I lent you?” Seonghyeon hummed.
“Can you give it back tomorrow? My other jacket is in the laundry.”
“What jacket?” Seonghyeon replied, not even looking at him. “I think I already gave it back.”
Martin frowned slightly. “Oh… really? Maybe I forgot where I put it.”
“Yeah,” Seonghyeon said, a grin tugging at his lips. “Figures. Your room is a mess.”
“Hey, no! Take that back, you brat!”
They dissolved into bickering, words overlapping, their laughter cutting through every mock insult. By the time they reached Seonghyeon’s dorm building, neither of them remembered who had “won.” Usually, this was where they split, a quick goodbye. A reluctant turn in opposite directions. But tonight felt different.
“Do you want to run the song one more time?” Seonghyeon asked.
Martin perked up immediately, “Now?”
“Yeah.”
Martin hesitated. “What about noise complaints? What if your dormmates get annoyed?”
Seonghyeon smirked, already heading inside. “Nah. It’s fine.” A pause.
“They’re kind of scared of me anyway.”
Martin shook his head, fondness softening his expression. Yeah, that sounded exactly like Eom Seonghyeon he knows. He followed him in.
Upon entering Seonghyeon’s room, Martin barely had time to take two steps inside before something caught his eye. There it was.
Front and center.
Neatly, suspiciously placed on top of Seonghyeon’s bed.
His black leather jacket.
Martin blinked once, twice. Then slowly turned his head to the owner of the room who’s busy taking off his bag and putting it on the table.
“Hmm,” he started, voice dangerously light, “is it just me, or does that jacket on your bed look exactly like my jacket… the one someone said,” he paused for emphasis, “he already gave back?”
Seonghyeon froze, just for a second.
Then he scoffed, turning away too quickly. “I didn’t know it was there.”
The tips of his ears were red. Martin had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too wide.
“Oh?” he stepped closer, dragging the moment out. “So, it was just… teleported onto your bed?”
“I said I didn’t know,” Seonghyeon snapped, crossing his arms. Defensive but flustered. Cute. God. So cute.
Martin hummed like he was considering it, then casually shrugged off the jacket he was currently wearing.
“Here,” he said, tossing it onto the bed right next to the other one. “You can have another.”
Seonghyeon whipped around. “What! Why would I need two?!”
“I don’t know,” Martin replied innocently. “Thought you might want options.”
Seonghyeon stared at him, completely caught off guard, before his expression twisted into something halfway between outrage and embarrassment.
“What do you think?” he burst out, voice rising. “That I like your scent that much? That I want your jackets just because they smell like you?!”
The room went still.
For half a second, even Seonghyeon seemed to realize what he had just said.
Martin didn’t move, didn’t breathe. His heart however, felt like doing somersault inside his ribcage, omgomgomgomgomgdidhejustsaythat.
Slowly, very slowly, a smirk spread across his face.
“I never said anything about you were liking my scent, Seonghyeonah.”
His voice dropped, softer now, threaded with something warmer.
“But since you brought it up…”
Seonghyeon made a strangled noise immediately turning away, the tips of his ears were still red, “Not a word, Park.”
Martin laughed under his breath, but his chest felt tight, like something fragile and electric had just sparked to life between them.
They were supposed to practice, that had been the whole point of coming here. But right now, all Martin could think about was one thing, Seonghyeon used his jacket. Not just wore it, not just borrowed it but apparently kept it. On his bed, within his reach. And if Martin dared to spiral a little further, probably hugged it to sleep.
And on top of that, Seonghyeon had just… Martin’s brain short-circuited all over again. He said he likes my scent. He said he likes my scent. Oh, my goodness gracious!
“Hey, Earth to Martin?” Seonghyeon’s voice cut through the noise.
Martin blinked, snapping back into the room. Seonghyeon was looking at him, one eyebrow raised, “Are we going to practice,” he said, gesturing lazily, “or are you just going to stand there staring at my bed?” from the outside, he looked completely fine, unbothered. Like nothing had happened. But the tips of his ears were still red and that gave him away completely.
Martin swallowed down a smile. Oh, you’re not as okay as you’re pretending to be Eom Seonghyeon.
Kindness won over teasing just this once, “I think it’s getting a bit late,” Martin said, tone lighter, easier. “Maybe we can practice tomorrow morning? At my…” he paused, grinning, “…messy dorm.”
Seonghyeon didn’t answer immediately but Martin saw it, the way his shoulders loosened, the quiet breath he let out, like he’d been holding it this whole time. He’s relieved, soft and unspoken. How adorable Martin thought and felt something warm settle in his chest.
Good. Not just me, then.
“Okay,” Seonghyeon said finally. “See you tomorrow.”
He walked Martin to the door like he always did, routine slipping back into place as if nothing had shifted even though everything had.
Martin stepped outside then paused and turned back.
Seonghyeon was still there, hand on the door, looking at him.
Martin tilted his head, a slow, teasing smile forming, “I hope you have a very nice dream,” he said, voice sweet with trouble, “hugging my precious jacket to sleep, Seonghyeonnie.”
A beat.
Then,
“Oh, shut up!”
Seonghyeon shoved the door closed on him.
But not before Martin caught it, the unmistakable flush spreading across his cheeks. The way his ears burned even redder. The way he didn’t deny it. The way he didn’t give Martin’s jacket back even after all the teasing.
The door clicked shut.
Martin stood there for a second just stared at the closed door then let out a quiet laugh, turning on his heel. Tonight, he was definitely going to sleep with a ridiculous smile on his face and for once, he wasn’t even going to try to hide it.
The day of the festival where the stage lights were blinding for Martin who was not used to it. The kind that swallowed the crowd whole and turned them into a sea of noise instead of faces. But Martin could still feel them, hundreds of eyes, the hum of anticipation, the pulse of something big waiting to happen.
Beside him there was Seonghyeon adjusted his mic, calm and focused.
Like he wasn’t about to ruin Martin’s entire emotional stability like how yesterday’s practice was more tension than real practicing.
The first chord rang out.
Martin’s fingers moved on instinct, muscle memory taking over, but his attention kept drifting. To Seonghyeon, always Seonghyeon. And then the vocals came in, smooth and controlled. A little huskier than usual and then Seonghyeon looked at him. Not accidentally, not in passing. Direct and intentional.
“I wish I knew, I wish I knew you wanted me
I wish I knew (wish I knew), I wish I knew you wanted me (oh)”
Martin missed a beat. Just one. Barely noticeable to anyone else but to him, it felt like the entire world has tilted for him.
Because Seonghyeon wasn’t just singing, he was looking at him like that while singing it. Like the lyrics weren’t just lyrics. Like they were something dangerously close to a confession.
Martin swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep playing, but his chest felt too tight, too loud.
And Seonghyeon, he didn’t look away. If anything, he leaned into it.
“Uh, can I bite your tongue like my bad habit?
Would you mind if I tried to make a pass at it?”
Martin’s head snapped up fully this time. Their eyes locked and this time, he didn’t look away either.
Something sharp and electric passed between them, stretched tight like a wire about to snap. The crowd roared, oblivious, but on stage it felt like there were just two of them left in the world.
Martin’s stare turned intense. Unblinking.
Oh, you’re not playing fair Eom.
Seonghyeon’s lips twitched like he knew exactly what he was doing. Like he was daring him. The rest of the song blurred. Applause came like a wave crashing over them.
But Martin barely heard it.
The adrenaline didn’t fade, it clung to them under their skin, in their breath, in the way neither of them spoke as they walked back. Same path, same night air but everything felt different. Charged. Too full with something they were both didn’t dare to name.
Their shoulders brushed once but neither of them moved away.
By the time they reached Seonghyeon’s dorm, the silence had grown heavy, thick with everything they hadn’t said.
Seonghyeon stopped at the door and so did Martin. For a second, it looked like they’d just say goodbye like always. But then,
“Why were you looking at me like that back when we were on stage?” Seonghyeon asked suddenly, voice quieter than usual, his back was against his doorframe and he was looking up at Martin.
Martin lets out a breath almost a laugh, “You’re the one asking me this question?”
Seonghyeon frowned, “I was just performing.”
Martin took a step closer, “So was I.”
A beat. Closer now that the tips of their shoes were touching, too close to pretend this was normal between friends.
“Then what was that?” Seonghyeon pressed, softer this time.
Martin’s voice dropped, “You tell me.”
Silence.
Their breathing was uneven now, matching each other’s.
Seonghyeon’s gaze flickered to Martin’s eyes, lips, eyes again. Martin noticed of course he noticed.
“Seonghyeon…” he murmured.
That was it. That was all it took. Seonghyeon grabbed the front of his shirt impulsively, desperate and pulled him in. The kiss wasn't gentle. Their teeth clacked together on impact. It was everything they’d been holding back crashing into one moment. Messy. Breathless. A little clumsy. Perfect.
Martin froze for half a second, hands on the door behind Seonghyeon’s head then kissed him back just as hard. His hands then finding Seonghyeon’s waist, pulling him closer like he’d disappear otherwise.
Seonghyeon made a soft, surprised sound against his lips, but didn’t pull away. If anything, he leaned in more. Like he’d been waiting, like he couldn’t stop now even if he tried. He fought for dominance but soon gave up when Martin opened up his mouth with gentle probing of his tongue inside the soft sides of his mouth.
When they finally broke apart, a string of saliva connected their lips, it wasn’t by choice. Just lack of oxygen. Foreheads touching, breathing uneven. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to because this time there was no pretending it didn’t mean anything.
Then Seonghyeon opened the door and they barely made it inside. The door had just clicked shut when Seonghyeon grabbed Martin again, like the distance of two steps had already been too much.
They stumbled, half laughing and half breathless, until the back of Seonghyeon’s knees hit the bed. And then they fell, Martin hands were holding Seonghyeon’s back when the mattress dipped softly under them, busy trying to figure out how to breathe and kiss at the same time, all clumsy edges and quiet sounds and hands that didn’t quite know where to settle but refused to let go but so eager to be closer than ever before. Eventually, they broke apart, both a little dazed, a little overwhelmed.
Martin let out a soft laugh, his hand dropping blindly to the bed and landing on leather. He blinked then huffed.
“Oh,” he murmured, lifting it slightly. “Hi there.”
Seonghyeon frowned, still catching his breath, his hands on Martin’s shoulders, holding tight, “What?”
Martin glanced at him, grin tugging at his lips.
“My jacket,” he said. “Or should I say, my wingman?”
Seonghyeon stared at him for a second then lightly smacked his shoulder.
“Don’t tease.”
But his ears were red again.
Martin’s smile softened.
“Can’t help it.”
And then, quieter this time, he leaned in again. No rush now, just warmth.
They kissed again, slower, softer like they had all the time in the world to figure it out. Somewhere in between tangled blankets, quiet laughter and soft kisses exchanged between spit-slicked lips, exhaustion finally caught up to them. And without really noticing when they fell asleep.
Morning came gently. Soft light slipping through the curtains, painting everything in pale gold. Seonghyeon was half sprawled on top of him, head resting on Martin’s chest like it belonged there. Like it had always belonged there.
Martin woke first. At first, he didn't move, he was holding his breath because he was afraid that he’ll wake up the pretty boy on top of him and just stared at the way Seonghyeon’s hair fell across his forehead. The slow rise and fall of his shoulders. The soft puffs of breath against his shirt. His soft plump cheeks and lips. Beautiful. Ridiculously, unfairly beautiful. And warm.
And his… No, not yet.
Martin’s chest tightened.
Not mine.
But still, something in him ached with how much he wanted that to be true. The thought slipped out before he could stop it.
“I love you.”
Soft. Barely above a whisper.
Seonghyeon stirred.
Martin’s entire body went rigid.
Oh no.
Oh no.
Seonghyeon’s eyes blinked open slowly, still heavy with sleep. For a second, he just looked at Martin, quiet, unreadable. Martin’s heart started pounding. Loud. Fast. Complete somersault.
Seonghyeon shifted slightly, listening. Then, in a voice still rough with sleep, he murmured, “Your heart’s beating so fast. I can hear it.”
Martin let out a shaky breath, trying (and failing) to sound normal.
“Well… you know the reason why.”
A pause. Seonghyeon didn’t look away. He put his hand up to touch Martin’s cheeks.
And then,
“I love you too, you know.”
Natural like breathing the way he said it. Like it wasn’t the kind of sentence that could change Martin’s entire world.
Martin blinked. Once. Twice.
“…Yeah?”
Seonghyeon huffed softly, the corner of his lips lifting as he tucked his face closer against Martin’s neck.
“Yeah.”
And just like that, the world felt steady again. Martin let out a quiet fond laugh, so fond of this beautiful boy he can call his now, one hand coming up to rest carefully in Seonghyeon hair. Still a little disbelieving. Still a little overwhelmed that this is his life now. But smiling. Definitely smiling.
"So, how about that bad habit you talked about back then Seonghyeonnie? Can we do it like right now?"