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Seonghyeon is a logical person.
As the first and only son in his family, the path laid out before him has always been clear. His parents own a restaurant business that has been thriving for as long as he can remember, so logically, his future should revolve around taking it over one day. It is stable. It is secure. It makes sense.
But logic, unfortunately, has never quite known what to do with love.
Seonghyeon fell in love with music the moment he received his first iPod, a birthday gift from his uncle. What started as casual listening quickly turned into something deeper, something consuming. Soon, the most logical thing he could do for himself was to pursue it seriously.
So, he studied. Hard.
Hard enough to earn a full scholarship for music, easing the financial burden on his parents. Hard enough to prove that this wasn’t just a fleeting dream but something worth betting his future on.
And once he got that scholarship, the one he so desperately needed, the next logical step was obvious: work even harder. Once he got into the university of his dream, he planned to devote himself to his studies, perfecting his skills in hopes that he can graduate with the highest GPA in his class so he can prove to his family that he chose the right future career path. That was the plan…
…until he met Martin Edwards.
Martin is tall, blonde, and broad-shouldered, with eyes the color of honey like the golden sunsets he loves to watch whenever he visits the beach near his grandmother’s house.
From the moment Seonghyeon met him, there was something about Martin that felt… magnetic. So much so that Seonghyeon’s logical brain, for once, seemed at a complete loss for words.
What was it, exactly?
Was it the way Martin laughed, freely, giddily, with his whole body, so infectious that Seonghyeon couldn’t help but laugh along with him?
Was it the way, whenever they walked side by side, Martin would casually drape an arm over Seonghyeon’s shoulders, making him feel, inexplicably, protected?
Was it how Martin paid attention, truly paid attention, to everything Seonghyeon said, as if, in those moments, he was the only person exist in Martin’s world?
Or was it the way Martin sometimes lost focus when Seonghyeon tried to explain a complicated melody progression… his gaze drifting, lingering on Seonghyeon’s lips?
(Martin thought he didn’t notice. But Seonghyeon always did.)
Logically, the solution should have been simple: ignore all of it. Dismiss every illogical reason Martin affected him so deeply, and focus instead on his studies, on proving to his parents that the path he chose was the right one.
But Seonghyeon made one crucial miscalculation.
He had spent so long trusting his logical mind that he forgot he also had something far less predictable…
A stubborn heart.
And that heart wanted Martin. Bad.
But even when he knows what his heart wanted, he has plans, Important Plans. Logically he has to suppress these feelings for Martin. But feelings that are buried don’t disappear.
They wait. They simmer. And one day, they come back sharp enough to bite him in the arse.
That was exactly what happened to Seonghyeon.
Lately, both him and Martin had been consumed with preparing for their performance at their university’s annual music festival. Long hours in practice rooms, endless revisions, late-night debates over melodies, forgotten half-meals on the table. Forgotten heart.
That night, they left campus far later than they should have.
It was already 1 AM when they got out from the studio. The streets were quiet; the usual city noise softened into a distant hush. Just the faint hum of streetlights and the sound of their footsteps, side by side.
Seonghyeon had made a mistake.
He hadn’t brought a jacket.
The cold crept in slowly, slipping through the fabric of his clothes. He tried to ignore it, rubbing his hands together and blowing warm air into them, pretending it wasn’t a big deal.
But of course, Martin noticed. “Are you cold, Seonghyeon-ah?”
Seonghyeon shook his head, a little too quickly. “Not really,” he muttered. “I just forgot my jacket.”
Martin didn’t even pause to think. “You can use mine. Here.”
So, after that night Martin’s jacket spent some nights in his dorm room even though he likes to believe that he is a logical person but logic has never accounted for what happens after that.
For what happens when Seonghyeon is alone in his room, the world stripped down to silence, his thoughts louder than anything he can control. Because the truth is there is no reasons for why the jacket is tangled in his bedsheets like it belongs, like it had always belonged.
Black leather against pale cotton. A foreign presence that somehow feels… right.
Seonghyeon stares at it for a long time. He should return it. Again, that would be the logical thing to do. Instead, he reaches for it.
Slowly. Carefully. Like it might disappear if he moves too fast.
The leather is cool at first touch before he can stop himself, he pulls it closer. Closer until the fabric presses against his face, until breathing feels like borrowing something that was never meant to be his beneath that there’s faint, lingering warmth. And then the scent reaches him.
Martin. Martin. Martin.
Not just cologne. Not something artificial or easily named. It’s warmer than that. Softer. Something Seonghyeon’s heart has come to associate, without permission, with safety. With laughter. With the way his name sounds when Martin says it. His grip tightens.
This is ridiculous.
It’s just a jacket.
Seonghyeon exhales, but it comes out uneven. And that’s when it happens. The quiet, devastating realization. He’s not holding onto the jacket; he’s holding onto Martin.
Or at least, the closest thing he’s allowed to have.
Seonghyeon turns onto his side, the jacket gathered in his arms, instinctive. Like muscle memory he never consciously learned.
He tells himself it’s just for a moment. Just until he falls asleep. Just until the scent fades.
Just until he remembers how to be logical again.
But his arms tighten instead. His fingers curl into the fabric. And for the first time in a long while, Seonghyeon stops pretending.
Because this… This aching, quiet, overwhelming want.
It has never been logical.
Not when it comes to Martin.
Not when even something as simple as a jacket can make Seonghyeon feel like he is standing on the edge of something he cannot come back from.