Work Text:
the front door clicked shut behind them.
silence.
real silence.
not hotel silence.
not backstage silence.
home silence.
the kind where the fridge hummed quietly from the kitchen, the floorboards creaked in familiar places, and someone had forgotten to close one of the cupboards before they’d left three months ago.
keonho looked around the apartment.
“we actually live here.”
“such a groundbreaking observation.”
seonghyeon replied, slipping his trainers off.
“i’ve missed being this intelligent.”
“…you’ve been away too long.”
⸻
their manager dropped the apartment keys into the little ceramic bowl by the entrance.
“right.”
everyone looked over.
“you’ve got tomorrow off.”
five heads lifted simultaneously.
“properly off.”
“sleep.”
“eat.”
“don’t leave the dorm unless you actually want to.”
“…and for the love of everything…”
he looked directly at keonho.
“…don’t burn anything.”
“that happened once!”
“three times.”
juhoon corrected quietly.
“…we’ve discussed this.”
“details.”
the manager sighed dramatically.
“i’m going to sleep.”
he pointed towards his room.
“if i hear screaming…”
“…”
“…”
“make sure someone’s actually dying before you wake me.”
his door clicked shut.
⸻
nobody moved.
“…”
“…”
“free day.”
james whispered.
“…free day.”
martin echoed.
keonho suddenly threw both arms into the air.
“WE SURVIVED.”
“inside voice.”
juhoon smiled.
“manager’s asleep.”
keonho immediately clamped both hands over his own mouth.
“…mmph.”
⸻
they unpacked at approximately the speed of exhausted sloths.
keonho unpacked by throwing clothes vaguely towards his wardrobe.
seonghyeon silently folded everything again afterwards.
without complaint.
without acknowledgement.
just…
acceptance.
martin walked into their room carrying his suitcase.
he stopped.
three beds.
three desks.
the same glow-in-the-dark stars keonho had stuck to the ceiling when he was sixteen and somehow convinced management to let him keep.
“…home.”
he smiled.
“…home.”
⸻
he flopped backwards onto his mattress.
except…
because martin was martin…
he somehow landed diagonally.
one leg dangling completely off the bed.
one arm tucked underneath himself.
the other stretched dramatically towards the ceiling.
his pillow had ended up halfway across the room.
seonghyeon looked over from unpacking.
“…”
“how?”
“comfortable.”
martin answered immediately.
“you’ve been lying there for three seconds.”
“and?”
“your spine should file a complaint.”
“…it knows the routine.”
keonho wandered in carrying an armful of hoodies.
“…”
he stared.
“bro.”
“…”
“…you sleep like someone threw you.”
⸻
meanwhile, across the hallway, james and juhoon’s room was considerably quieter.
mostly because…
it always was.
juhoon unpacked methodically.
shirts.
hoodies.
books.
finished within ten minutes.
james had opened his suitcase.
looked inside.
become distracted by an old backstage pass.
found a guitar pick he’d forgotten existed.
spent four minutes wondering where one sock had gone.
rediscovered a sketch martin had done during rehearsals.
forgotten he was unpacking entirely.
juhoon glanced over.
“you’ve unpacked…”
he checked.
“…one t-shirt.”
james looked down.
“…”
“…”
“i got distracted.”
“…i noticed.”
“i was doing really well.”
“were you?”
“in my head i was.”
juhoon laughed quietly.
“…fair enough.”
⸻
james finally reached for his phone.
almost instantly, it buzzed.
☕ martin
>hi
a smile appeared before he could stop it.
🎧 james
>hi :)
☕ martin
>…
☕ martin
>we have been apart for
checks imaginary watch
>47 seconds
🎧 james
>felt longer
three dots appeared.
stopped.
appeared again.
☕ martin
>dramatic🤨
🎧 james
>💯accurate
⸻
another message.
a photo.
martin had taken a picture of himself lying sideways across his bed.
his legs were so long that one foot was hanging almost completely off the mattress.
caption:
☕ martin
>help
>why am i built like this
james laughed out loud.
“what?”
juhoon asked without looking up.
“nothing.”
“martin?”
“…yeah.”
“figured.”
⸻
james replied with a screenshot of martin’s abandoned pillow lying on the floor.
🎧 james
>whys your pillow on the floor😂
☕ martin
>it was on the bed a second ago…
🎧 james
>photo says otherwise
☕ martin
>technology has always been against me😞
⸻
the group chat buzzed.
colour outside the lines 🖍️
🐣 keonho
>ATTENTION🚨🚨🚨
photo attached.
it was an aggressively close-up selfie.
his wet hair was sticking up in every possible direction.
he looked like he’d been electrocuted.
caption:
>I SHOWERED
🦊 seonghyeon
>unfortunately i can confirm
🐢 juhoon
>proud of you
🐣 keonho
>thank u father
🐢 juhoon
>don’t fucking call me that
🐣 keonho
>yes father🤓
⸻
another photo.
this time from seonghyeon.
keonho had somehow fallen asleep sitting upright against the headboard.
still holding a towel.
mouth slightly open.
caption:
🦊 seonghyeon
>coldest sleeping pose oat❓
🐣 keonho
>DELETE THAT
🦊 seonghyeon
>no
⸻
martin immediately saved it.
☕ martin
>mine now
🎧 james
>ours now
🐣 keonho
>seonghyeon you’re a fucking idiot
⸻
james quietly opened martin’s chat again.
he snapped a picture of his own suitcase.
still completely full.
only one t-shirt missing.
🎧 james
>i have achieved absolutely nothing
martin replied almost instantly.
with another picture.
this one was just his ridiculously long legs hanging off the bed.
☕ martin
>i feel you
⸻
james couldn’t stop smiling.
he typed.
deleted it.
typed again.
🎧 james
>miss u
he stared at it.
pressed send before he could overthink it.
the typing bubble appeared immediately.
disappeared.
appeared again.
☕ martin
>…
☕ martin
>bro
☕ martin
>we literally share a dorm
🎧 james
>and yet
☕ martin
>😭
☕ martin
>miss u too
⸻
juhoon finally looked over.
“your face.”
james blinked.
“…what?”
“it’s doing the thing again.”
“what thing?”
“the smile.”
“can i not smile anymore?”
“…”
“is it that obvious?”
“to everyone.”
“…oh.”
“except martin.”
“…”
“…”
“actually,”
juhoon smiled into his book.
“…maybe not anymore.”
⸻
there was a soft knock on the bedroom door.
three gentle taps.
james didn’t even need to ask.
he opened it.
martin stood there.
hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands.
hair even messier than before.
because of course it was.
“hi.”
“hi.”
they smiled at exactly the same time.
“…”
“…”
“i forgot.”
martin admitted.
“forgot what?”
“you’re not in my room anymore.”
“…”
“…”
“yeah.”
“…”
“it’s weird.”
“little bit.”
martin rubbed the back of his neck.
“…i almost asked if you wanted to watch something.”
“i almost walked into your room without thinking.”
“…”
“…”
“we’re hopeless.”
“…completely.”
they both laughed.
quietly.
so they wouldn’t wake the manager.
⸻
“come here.”
james said softly.
martin stepped forward.
one step.
then another.
and because he was so much taller, he instinctively bent down.
resting his chin gently on top of james’s head as he wrapped his arms around him.
james disappeared into the hug.
completely.
“…”
“…”
“you’re ridiculously tall.”
his voice came out muffled against martin’s hoodie.
“…sorry.”
“don’t apologise.”
“…habit.”
“we’re still working on that.”
martin smiled.
“…right.”
he held him just a little tighter.
carefully.
warmly.
like he’d missed this.
even though it’d only been an hour.
“…goodnight.”
martin murmured.
“goodnight.”
neither of them moved.
“…”
“…”
“we’re still hugging.”
james pointed out.
“mhm.”
“…just checking.”
⸻
from somewhere inside martin and the others’ room, keonho shouted,
“MARTIN HYUNG!”
“…”
“…”
“WHERE THE HELL ARE MY PYJAMAS?”
martin didn’t even blink.
“left drawer.”
“…THANK YOU.”
“…”
“…”
“you knew?”
james asked.
“…i live with him.”
“true.”
⸻
martin finally let go.
“…see you tomorrow.”
“probably in about…”
james checked the time.
“…nine hours.”
“or five minutes if keonho loses something else.”
“…also fair.”
martin grinned.
“…night.”
“night.”
⸻
half an hour later, the dorm had gone quiet.
lights switched off one by one.
somewhere, keonho started snoring almost immediately.
“…”
“…”
“i told you.”
seonghyeon whispered into the darkness.
martin smiled into his pillow.
across the hallway, james smiled too.
his phone buzzed one final time.
a message.
no words.
just a photo.
martin.
already asleep.
diagonally across the bed.
one arm hanging off the side.
blanket wrapped around exactly one leg.
looking completely impossible.
james laughed silently to himself before saving it.
then sent one back.
a selfie.
half his face buried in his duvet.
caption:
🎧 james
>goodnight :)
his phone buzzed almost immediately.
somehow, martin had answered.
☕ martin
>wasnt asleep
>goodnight ❤️
james smiled so hard his cheeks hurt.
home felt exactly the same.
except now…
it felt a little warmer.
____
at precisely 7:12 a.m., the dorm was peaceful.
juhoon was already awake.
of course he was.
he stood in the kitchen in oversized grey joggers and a hoodie, quietly making coffee while the morning sun spilled through the windows.
he liked mornings.
they were one of the only times the dorm was completely still.
he opened the fridge.
paused.
“…”
“why is there one trainer in here?”
he closed the fridge.
opened it again.
the trainer was still there.
“…”
“keonho.”
⸻
across the apartment, seonghyeon was also awake.
he wandered into the kitchen, still drying his hair with a towel.
“morning.”
“morning.”
juhoon pointed silently towards the fridge.
seonghyeon opened it.
looked at the trainer.
closed it again.
“…”
“i don’t even want to know.”
“same.”
⸻
they enjoyed exactly forty-three seconds of peaceful silence.
then—
BANG.
something hit the floor down the hallway.
both of them froze.
“…martin.”
seonghyeon guessed.
“probably.”
another thud.
“…”
“…should we check?”
“give it a minute.”
⸻
meanwhile, inside the three-person bedroom, martin had somehow managed to rotate almost one hundred and eighty degrees in his sleep.
his pillow was on the floor.
his blanket was wrapped entirely around one leg.
his head was where his feet had originally been.
one arm was hanging dramatically off the mattress.
and—
he had somehow acquired keonho’s shark plush.
nobody knew how.
least of all keonho.
who was still asleep.
face-down.
snoring loud enough to qualify as heavy machinery.
martin shifted.
the shark fell onto the floor.
thump.
“…”
“…”
martin didn’t wake up.
⸻
back in the kitchen,
“…called it.”
juhoon took another sip of coffee.
⸻
8:03 a.m.
james finally woke up.
he stared at the ceiling.
blinked twice.
remembered.
oh.
right.
home.
his phone was already buzzing.
colour outside the lines 🖍️
🦊 seonghyeon
>good morning
photo attached.
it was the trainer.
still in the fridge.
🐣 keonho
>WHO
🦊 seonghyeon
>you tell us
🐣 keonho
>I DONT EVEN REMEMBER OWNING THAT TRAINER
🐢 juhoon
>concerning
☕ martin
>why are you all awake
🦊 seonghyeon
>it’s eight
☕ martin
>exactly
⸻
james smiled to himself before typing.
🎧 james
>morning :)
☕ martin
>morning
>bro.
☕ martin
>come save me🥺🥺🥺
james frowned.
🎧 james
>?
>also don’t use that fuckass emoji again.
a photo arrived.
martin had clearly taken it while still lying down.
his duvet was wrapped around him like a cocoon.
except…
keonho had somehow rolled sideways during the night.
one leg was now fully across martin’s waist.
caption:
☕ martin
>help
>im trapped😖😔😔😢😢😩😩😭😭😤😤😰😰
james laughed so hard he snorted.
⸻
🎧 james
>have you considered
>moving him??
☕ martin
>hes heavier when asleep
🎧 james
>that’s not how physics works
☕ martin
>prove it
⸻
james climbed out of bed.
“…where are you going?”
juhoon asked from his desk.
“rescue mission.”
“…martin?”
“martin.”
“good luck.”
⸻
he knocked quietly before opening the bedroom door.
the sight waiting for him nearly ended him.
martin was exactly where the photo suggested.
completely trapped.
keonho was starfished across half the bed.
one arm around martin’s stomach.
one leg over both of martin’s.
martin looked over dramatically.
“…you came.”
“you texted like you were being held hostage.”
“i basically am.”
“fair.”
james walked over.
“ready?”
“…for?”
without another word—
james grabbed keonho gently underneath the shoulders.
“hyung…”
martin whispered.
“…he’s dead weight.”
“i’ve noticed.”
“…”
“…”
“…one…”
“…two…”
“…three.”
they lifted.
keonho made one tiny confused noise.
“…mrrp.”
then immediately rolled onto his own bed.
still asleep.
“…”
“…”
“how.”
martin blinked.
“talent.”
james replied.
⸻
martin sat up slowly.
his hair pointed in approximately eight different directions.
there was a pillow crease across one cheek.
he looked impossibly sleepy.
“…hi.”
“hi.”
“…thanks.”
“you’re welcome.”
“…”
“…”
“…you’ve got…”
james pointed towards his forehead.
“what?”
“…”
he stepped closer.
very casually.
brushed a few strands of messy hair away from martin’s eyes.
“…there.”
“bed hair?”
“…catastrophic bed hair.”
martin smiled automatically.
“…mean.”
“true though.”
“…”
“…true.”
⸻
“…breakfast?”
james asked.
“…five more minutes.”
“you said that yesterday.”
“worked yesterday.”
“did it?”
“…in my head it did.”
james laughed.
“come on.”
martin looked up at him through half-open eyes.
“carry me.”
“you’re nineteen centimetres taller than me.”
“details.”
“you’re literally built like a wardrobe.”
“but i’m sleepy.”
“i can see that and i don’t care.”
martin held both arms out dramatically.
“…please.”
“absolutely not.”
“…rude.”
“get up.”
“…”
“…”
martin sighed like the world had personally betrayed him.
“fine.”
he stood.
immediately ducking slightly so he didn’t bump the doorframe.
james looked up.
“show-off.”
“i didn’t even do anything.”
“…existing at six foot three is showing off.”
martin grinned.
“sorry.”
“…there it is again.”
⸻
when they reached the kitchen, juhoon looked up from making toast.
“you rescued him.”
“…successfully.”
james nodded.
“congratulations.”
“thank you.”
seonghyeon glanced at martin.
“…”
“you’ve still got pillow marks.”
martin immediately covered his face.
“…don’t perceive me.”
“too late.”
martin walked back out.
⸻
keonho wandered in three minutes later.
still half asleep.
wearing mismatched socks.
“morning.”
“…morning.”
he opened the fridge.
paused.
“…”
“…why is my trainer in here?”
the kitchen erupted into laughter.
keonho looked between all three of them.
“…”
“i thought that photo was ai.”
seonghyeon was laughing too hard to speak.
james leaned against the counter, shoulders shaking, his grin so wide it reached his eyes.
juhoon quietly passed keonho a mug of tea.
“drink this.”
“will it explain the trainer?”
“no.”
“…worth a try.”
outside, the city was already awake.
inside the dorm, they weren’t in any rush.
for the first time in months…
they had absolutely nowhere else to be.
____
breakfast happened the way breakfast always happened in the dorm.
loudly.
“…who finished the cereal?”
keonho asked, staring into the cupboard like it had personally betrayed him.
“you did.”
seonghyeon answered without looking up from cracking eggs into a bowl.
“that feels accusatory.”
“it’s a fact.”
“…”
“…”
“okay then.”
⸻
juhoon stood by the stove, quietly flipping pancakes with the kind of concentration usually reserved for surgery.
he cooked the same way he did everything else.
calmly.
efficiently.
without making a mess.
james leaned against the counter beside him, still looking only about eighty percent awake, absent-mindedly stirring his iced coffee while reading something on his phone.
“want me to help?”
he asked.
juhoon glanced over.
“you’ve been stirring the same drink for four minutes.”
james looked down.
“…”
“…”
“right.”
he’d completely forgotten what he was doing.
“adhd?”
juhoon smiled.
“…adhd.”
⸻
martin wandered back into the kitchen in another oversized hoodie, hair still fluffy from sleep.
“morning again.”
“morning.”
james looked up automatically.
their eyes met.
they smiled.
without even thinking about it.
keonho slowly looked between them.
“…”
“…”
“they’re doing it again.”
“doing what?”
martin asked.
“that weird smiling thing.”
“what smiling thing?”
“exactly.”
seonghyeon took another bite of pancake.
“leave them alone.”
“i wasn’t saying anything.”
“your face was.”
⸻
half an hour later, plates were empty.
everyone was comfortably full.
james glanced towards juhoon.
“walk?”
juhoon nodded immediately.
“yeah.”
sometimes they just…
needed quiet.
they’d always understood each other like that.
they could spend an hour together saying almost nothing and still feel completely recharged afterwards.
“we’ll be back later.”
juhoon said, grabbing his headphones.
“don’t destroy the apartment.”
“seriously?”
keonho asked.
“don’t destroy it.”
“understood, sir.”
⸻
the front door clicked shut.
keonho looked around.
then very slowly reached for the bluetooth speaker.
martin was already grinning.
“…”
“…”
“go on then.”
⸻
three seconds later, the entire dorm shook with bass.
asap rocky.
keonho grabbed a hoodie and immediately used it as a microphone.
🎵 fashion killa… 🎵
martin joined in without hesitation.
loudly.
wildly off-key.
“BRO.”
keonho wheezed.
“YOU’RE SO FLAT.”
“I KNOW.”
“FIX IT.”
“I’M TRYING.”
⸻
they unpacked fully this time.
sort of.
martin folded shirts.
keonho unfolded them while looking for a different hoodie.
seonghyeon silently folded them again.
without complaint.
just…
acceptance.
⸻
the playlist rolled straight into steve lacy.
then frank ocean.
then tyler, the creator.
then oasis.
the instant don’t look back in anger started, all productivity disappeared.
“…MAYBEEEEEEEEE—”
martin sang dramatically.
“…YOU’RE GONNA BE THE ONE THAT SAVES MEEEEEE—”
keonho pointed at the wardrobe like he was performing to eighty thousand people.
“…AND AFTER ALLLLLLL—”
seonghyeon sighed.
“…”
“…”
then joined in anyway.
“you’re my wonderwall…”
“WRONG SONG STUPID.”
martin folded in half laughing.
“I KNOW.”
⸻
hoodies started flying.
accidentally.
mostly.
one bounced off martin’s shoulder.
another landed on the ceiling fan.
nobody questioned how.
“…”
“…”
“leave it.”
seonghyeon sighed.
“it’s part of the room now.”
⸻
an hour became two.
they’d successfully unpacked…
roughly half.
because every ten minutes someone got distracted.
by music.
by old photos.
by finding things they’d forgotten they’d packed.
keonho found a pair of sunglasses.
put them on indoors.
“…”
“how do i look?”
“like you owe me money.”
martin replied.
“sick bro.”
⸻
another song.
another concert.
except this time, they were using hairbrushes as microphones.
martin was belting harmonies.
keonho was dancing with a hanger.
seonghyeon had somehow ended up singing despite insisting earlier he wouldn’t.
the bedroom door suddenly opened.
james and juhoon stepped inside.
“…”
“…”
“…”
they froze.
martin was standing on his bed.
keonho was attempting what could generously be described as choreography.
a sock flew across the room.
nobody knew whose it was.
“…”
“…”
“how long have you been like this?”
juhoon asked.
“…”
“…”
“about…”
martin checked absolutely nothing.
“two hours?”
“…”
“…”
“right.”
james looked at juhoon.
juhoon looked at james.
years of friendship passed silently between them.
they both gave one tiny nod.
retreat.
without a single word, they slowly backed out of the room.
closed the door.
⸻
inside their bedroom, james immediately put his headphones on.
juhoon did the same.
they sat in complete silence.
for nearly five minutes.
just…
rebooting.
eventually james lifted one side of his headphones.
“…”
“…”
“i think they’re singing oasis now.”
juhoon listened.
very faintly through the wall,
“…SO SALLY CAN WAIT—”
“…”
“yeah.”
he put the headphone back on.
“good for them.”
⸻
back across the hallway, keonho and seonghyeon hadn’t even noticed they’d been there.
they’d moved on to steve lacy again.
keonho had started using a hoodie as a cape.
seonghyeon was laughing too hard to fold anything properly.
“YOU’RE TERRIBLE.”
keonho shouted.
“AT WHAT?”
“MULTITASKING.”
“SHUT UP.”
“…YOU FOLDED THE SAME SHIRT THREE TIMES.”
“IT KEPT LOOKING WRONG.”
⸻
three hours.
then four.
eventually…
the floor became visible again.
every hoodie had found its way home.
every suitcase disappeared under beds or into wardrobes.
martin looked around.
“…”
“…”
“we actually did it.”
keonho slowly collapsed backwards onto his mattress.
“…”
“i’ve never worked harder in my life.”
“you sang for most of it you liar.”
seonghyeon replied.
“exactly.”
“vocally exhausting.”
⸻
the adrenaline vanished almost immediately.
keonho yawned.
“…”
“nap.”
“agreed.”
even seonghyeon nodded.
“wake me if the apartment catches fire.”
“again?”
“don’t start.”
⸻
within minutes, both of them were asleep.
keonho starfished across his bed.
one sock still somehow missing.
seonghyeon curled beneath his blanket, asleep almost instantly.
martin smiled quietly.
then slipped out into the living room.
⸻
sunlight poured through the windows.
the apartment felt wonderfully calm after four straight hours of organised chaos.
martin curled into the corner of the sofa with a blanket over his legs and finally opened the latest episode of his favourite show.
he’d been meaning to catch up for weeks.
he pressed play.
watched for a few minutes.
laughed once.
paused it.
“…”
his thoughts drifted.
again.
stupid.
he’d been away from james for…
martin checked the time.
just over two hours.
“…”
“…”
“this is so embarrassing.”
he reached for his phone anyway.
⸻
☕ martin (private chat)
>miss you hyung :(
he stared at it.
then, because dignity clearly wasn’t important anymore, he dramatically wrapped the blanket around himself like a tragic victorian hero, slumped sideways across the sofa and took the most unnecessarily pathetic selfie imaginable.
caption:
☕ martin
>abandoned.
>forgotten.
>left to perish.
>send assistance immediately.
⸻
upstairs, james was halfway through reading when his phone buzzed.
he opened the chat.
“…”
then immediately burst into quiet laughter.
juhoon looked over.
“what?”
without saying anything, james simply handed him the phone.
juhoon looked at martin’s photo.
he covered his mouth with one hand.
“…”
“he looks like he’s waiting for nineteenth-century doctors.”
“doesn’t he?”
“dramatic bitch.”
“very.”
“he’s been alone for like 30 minutes.”
“i know.”
“go.”
juhoon smiled.
“before he starts writing farewell letters.”
⸻
james was already typing.
⸻
martin’s phone buzzed almost immediately.
🎧 james
>😭😭
>baby
>do you want me to come?
martin completely froze.
his eyes caught on one word.
baby.
his ears immediately turned bright pink.
he stared at the message for several long seconds before replying.
☕ martin
>…
>yes please🥰🥰
another pause.
then—
☕ martin
>also
>you called me baby again
🎧 james
>did i?
☕ martin
>you absolutely did
🎧 james
>huh
>must’ve slipped out
>:)
martin buried his face into the blanket so hard he almost disappeared underneath it.
“…”
“…”
“oh my god.”
he was smiling so much it actually hurt.
and somewhere down the hallway, james was smiling exactly the same way as he quietly stood up and headed for the living room.
___
the living room was quiet.
finally.
after four straight hours of singing, unpacking, arguing about whose hoodie was whose, and keonho attempting to convince everyone that folding clothes was “bad for the fabric’s self-esteem”…
the silence felt earned.
martin had made absolutely no progress on his show.
the opening credits had played three separate times.
he’d restarted the episode twice because he’d kept getting distracted.
mostly…
by one person.
his phone buzzed.
he smiled before he even looked.
🎧 james
>on my way
>don’t die before i get there
☕ martin
>no promises
⸻
a minute later, soft footsteps padded down the hallway.
martin looked up just as james appeared in the doorway.
“…hi.”
“hi.”
“…”
“…”
“you actually looked abandoned in that photo.”
martin pulled the blanket up to his chin dramatically.
“i was abandoned.”
“for two hours.”
“exactly.”
“tragic.”
“…devastating.”
james laughed under his breath.
“move over.”
martin didn’t answer.
he simply lifted one corner of the blanket.
an invitation.
james smiled to himself before crossing the room.
he sat beside martin (except beside martin wasn’t really beside martin) and martin was so much taller that even curled into the corner of the sofa he somehow took up most of it.
“you’re taking up approximately ninety percent of this couch.”
“i’m efficient.”
“that’s one word for it.”
⸻
they settled into an easy silence.
the episode started again.
this time they actually watched it.
or…
they tried to.
about eight minutes in, martin realised he hadn’t taken in a single line of dialogue.
because james was sitting close enough that their shoulders touched every so often whenever one of them shifted.
not on purpose.
probably.
his brain didn’t seem interested in the television anymore.
“you’re thinking too loudly.”
james said.
martin blinked.
“what?”
“i can practically hear your thoughts.”
“…that’s terrifying.”
“your face gives everything away.”
“that’s your thing.”
“…i guess it’s contagious.”
⸻
martin huffed a quiet laugh.
“come here.”
the words slipped out before he could think.
james side eyed him.
“…i’m already here.”
“closer.”
there was a tiny pause.
then james smiled.
“bossy.”
“…please?”
“…somewhat better.”
he shifted.
just a little.
until their legs brushed.
their shoulders rested together properly.
martin relaxed almost immediately.
“comfortable?”
james asked.
“…mhm.”
“good.”
⸻
another five minutes passed.
there was something happening on the television.
neither of them had any idea what.
martin was absent-mindedly playing with the edge of the blanket.
james noticed.
without really thinking, he reached over.
their hands brushed.
just for a second.
martin’s fingers stilled.
james didn’t pull away.
instead…
his little finger hooked gently around martin’s.
the smallest touch imaginable.
like asking a question.
martin answered by turning his hand over.
their fingers slipped together naturally.
“hi.”
james whispered.
martin smiled.
“…hi.”
“you’ve gone all quiet.”
“…thinking.”
“…dangerous.”
“…very.”
⸻
martin looked down at their hands.
then back at james.
“can i tell you something?”
“always.”
“…”
he laughed quietly.
“i don’t think i’ve stopped smiling since the plane.”
james’s own smile softened.
“thats such a lie, but me neither.”
“my face actually hurts.”
“worth it?”
martin looked at him like the answer should’ve been obvious.
“yeah.”
“…definitely.”
⸻
their eyes met.
held.
neither of them looked away this time.
there wasn’t any awkwardness anymore.
just…
warmth.
comfort.
something that felt wonderfully familiar already.
james tilted his head slightly.
“…what?”
martin asked.
“nothing.”
“liar.”
“just…”
he smiled to himself.
“…you’re looking at me.”
“i know.”
“usually you panic after about three seconds.”
“i’m trying something new.”
“how’s it going?”
“…”
martin’s ears turned pink.
“…i’m at my limit.”
james laughed softly.
“thought so.”
⸻
“…you’re cute.”
the words came out so casually that james didn’t even seem to realise he’d said them.
martin froze.
“…”
“…”
“…what?”
james blinked.
“what?”
“…you…”
martin pointed vaguely.
“you just called me cute.”
“…did i?”
“yes.”
“…”
james rubbed the back of his neck.
“huh.”
“…”
“…”
“…guess that slipped out too.”
martin hid half his face behind the blanket.
“you’re doing this on purpose.”
“doing what?”
“…making me flustered.”
“i’m really not.”
“…that’s even worse.”
⸻
they dissolved into quiet laughter.
the kind where you have to press your lips together because everyone else in the dorm is asleep.
when it faded, they were still close.
very close.
close enough that martin could see the tiny freckles scattered across james’s nose.
close enough to notice the way james’s eyes crinkled whenever he smiled.
close enough that…
he forgot what he’d been about to say.
james noticed.
“…what?”
“…”
martin looked briefly at james’s mouth.
then immediately back to his eyes.
“nothing.”
“martin.”
“…”
“…”
“i’m thinking.”
“…i can see that.”
“it’s complicated.”
“…is it?”
“very.”
james’s expression softened.
“…you don’t have to overthink everything anymore.”
his voice was quiet.
gentle.
“you know that, right?”
martin nodded.
“…i’m trying.”
“i know.”
“…”
“…”
“…still.”
martin smiled shyly.
“…first boyfriend.”
james blinked once.
then laughed so softly it was almost just a breath.
“…yeah.”
“…same.”
“…we’re doing alright.”
“…i think so too.”
⸻
there was another tiny silence.
comfortable.
easy.
james squeezed martin’s hand once.
“hey.”
“yeah?”
“…come here.”
martin laughed.
“…i thought you already had.”
“…little closer.”
“greedy.”
“very.”
martin leaned in.
slowly enough that he could stop if he wanted to.
he didn’t.
james met him halfway.
their foreheads brushed first.
both of them smiling before anything had even happened.
“…hi.”
martin whispered.
“hi.”
“…still okay?”
“…more than okay.”
“good.”
james closed the remaining distance.
their kiss was soft.
brief.
so gentle it almost felt like smiling instead.
no fireworks.
no dramatic music.
just warm lips.
a quiet afternoon.
and the overwhelming feeling of finally being exactly where they were supposed to be.
when they pulled apart, neither of them moved very far.
martin was grinning.
properly cheesing.
“…”
“…”
“…wow.”
he whispered.
james laughed.
“…that’s your review?”
“…my brain’s buffering.”
“again?”
“…you kissed me.”
“i did.”
“…”
“…”
“…could you maybe…”
martin rubbed the back of his neck.
“…do it again?”
james’s smile reached all the way to his eyes.
“…i think that can be arranged.”
“…cool.”
“…very smooth.”
“…don’t ruin this for me.”
“never.”
he leaned in again.
this kiss lasted a little longer.
still unhurried.
still smiling into it halfway through because martin accidentally bumped their noses together.
“…sorry.”
martin mumbled automatically.
james laughed against his forehead.
“…there it is.”
“what?”
“…apologising.”
“…habit.”
“…we’re still working on that.”
“…right.”
⸻
from somewhere down the hallway, a sleepy voice echoed through the dorm.
“…why…”
a yawn.
“…are you two…”
another yawn.
“…laughing…”
silence.
then,
“…keep it down…”
keonho rolled over.
“…people are trying to nap…”
another pause.
“…also…”
“…martin…”
“…stop stealing my blankets…”
“…”
“…”
martin looked down.
he was, in fact, wrapped in one of keonho’s blankets.
“…”
“…”
“when did that happen?”
james looked at the label.
“…about four hours ago, apparently.”
they looked at each other.
then dissolved into helpless, muffled laughter all over again.
___
“…seriously.”
martin picked the remote back up.
“this time we’re actually watching it.”
james looked delightfully unconvinced.
“…mhm.”
“don’t ‘mhm’ me.”
“…i’m agreeing.”
“…you said that ten minutes ago.”
“…this time i mean it.”
martin narrowed his eyes.
“…promise?”
james held one hand over his heart.
“…promise.”
“…”
“…”
“you’re fucking smiling.”
“…maybe.”
“you’re planning something.”
“…that’s a very serious accusation.”
“…i know your face.”
“…unfortunate.”
martin laughed, shaking his head before pressing play again.
⸻
this time…
they actually got through the opening scene.
martin relaxed further into the sofa, one leg folded underneath him, the blanket still tucked around both of them.
their hands stayed loosely intertwined.
the room was peaceful.
the only sounds were the television and the occasional traffic drifting through the open balcony door.
martin didn’t realise he’d gradually leaned a little closer until his shoulder was resting properly against james’s.
he didn’t even think about it.
it just…
felt right.
⸻
“…wait.”
martin pointed at the screen.
“…that’s the guy from the last season.”
“…is it?”
“…yeah.”
“…oh.”
“…you weren’t paying attention.”
“…i was.”
“…hyung.”
“…mostly.”
martin snorted.
“…hopeless.”
“…rude.”
⸻
another few minutes passed.
martin was finally invested.
“oh no.”
“what?”
“…don’t do that.”
“…do what?”
“he’s definitely about to make a terrible decision.”
“…you can tell already?”
“…television instincts.”
“…didn’t know you were that smart.”
“shut your mouth.”
⸻
james smiled to himself.
martin was completely absorbed now.
his eyebrows kept knitting together whenever something confusing happened.
he quietly gasped at plot twists.
he mumbled predictions under his breath.
without realising…
his thumb absent-mindedly stroked across the back of james’s hand.
tiny little movements.
completely unconscious.
james looked down at their hands.
then back at martin.
his heart did something embarrassingly soft.
⸻
he turned his head slightly.
pressed the lightest kiss against martin’s shoulder through the fabric of his hoodie.
barely there.
just enough for martin to notice.
martin blinked.
looked over.
“…hm?”
“…nothing.”
“…”
“…”
“you definitely just did something.”
“…did i?”
“…yes.”
“…must’ve slipped.”
martin rolled his eyes.
“you’re annoying.”
“…i’ve been told.”
⸻
thirty seconds later,
another tiny kiss.
this time just below martin’s jaw.
martin’s ears immediately turned pink.
he paused the show.
“…hyung.”
“…yeah?”
silence.
“…i’m trying to watch this.”
“…i know.”
“…”
“…”
“…you’re making that very difficult.”
“am i?”
“…yes.”
james looked entirely unrepentant.
“…sorry.”
“you’re smiling again.”
“…can’t help it.”
⸻
martin tried very hard to look annoyed.
he managed approximately two seconds before smiling too.
“…”
“…”
“okay.”
he sighed dramatically.
“…one more.”
james tilted his head.
“…one more what?”
martin pointed vaguely at his own neck.
“then we’re watching.”
“you’re always so bossy.”
“…please?”
“much better.”
james leaned over.
left another soft kiss against the side of martin’s neck.
lingering for just a heartbeat before pulling away.
“…there.”
“…thank you.”
“you’re welcome.”
“…now.”
martin picked up the remote again.
“…behave.”
“…i’ll do my best.”
⸻
the episode continued.
for almost seven whole minutes.
which, considering them, was impressive.
martin was genuinely watching.
completely focused.
every so often he’d laugh quietly or whisper,
“…i knew it.”
whenever one of his predictions came true.
james, the master connoisseur of most media, was suprisingly no longer watching the television.
he was watching martin.
⸻
the afternoon light spilled through the windows, catching in martin’s hair.
his long legs were somehow folded onto a sofa clearly designed for much shorter people.
one sleeve of his hoodie had slipped down over his hand.
he looked completely relaxed.
completely safe.
completely at home.
james couldn’t remember ever seeing anyone look so…
beautiful.
he didn’t even notice he’d stopped blinking much.
he just…
looked.
⸻
martin felt it eventually.
that unmistakable feeling of being watched.
he glanced sideways.
james was already looking at him.
not saying anything.
just…
looking.
“…”
“…”
“what?”
no answer.
“hyung?”
still nothing.
“…why are you staring at me?”
james blinked as if he’d only just returned to the room.
“…huh?”
“…you’ve been looking at me for like…”
martin checked absolutely nothing.
“…ages.”
“sorry.”
“…why?”
james smiled.
small.
completely helpless.
like the answer was obvious.
“…baby.”
the word slipped out so naturally it didn’t even seem to register that he’d said it.
martin absolutely did.
his entire face warmed instantly.
“…”
“…”
“…what?”
james laughed softly.
“…sorry.”
“no, keep going.”
“…keep going?”
“…you started a sentence, so finish it.”
“…right.”
he looked at martin again.
and somehow his expression became even softer.
“…baby…”
he said quietly.
“…you’re actually so beautiful it hurts me.”
silence.
martin forgot every language he’d ever learned.
“…”
“…”
“…oh.”
his brain had completely emptied.
“…that’s…”
he looked away immediately, hiding behind the blanket.
“…you can’t just…”
“can’t just what?”
“…say things like that.”
“…why not?”
“…because…”
martin laughed into his sleeve.
“…because then i stop acting like a real person.”
“…i’ve noticed.”
“it’s not funny.”
“…it’s a little funny.”
“…hyung.”
“sorry.”
“…you’re not.”
“no.”
⸻
martin buried his face in his hands for a moment.
“…i don’t know how to respond.”
“you don’t have to.”
“…i should say something.”
“…okay.”
“…”
“…”
“…thank you?”
james smiled so brightly that martin had to laugh too.
“that’ll do.”
“…i’m trying.”
“…i know.”
⸻
after another quiet moment, martin lowered his hands.
“…can i tell you something?”
“…go on.”
“…i still don’t really…”
he searched for the right words.
“believe any of this.”
“what part?”
“…all of it.”
he gestured vaguely between them.
“…sometimes i look at you and think…”
he smiled sheepishly.
“…‘oh right.’”
“…‘he likes me.’”
“‘he’s my boyfriend.’”
“…and then i have to remember not to grin like an idiot.”
james reached over and tucked a strand of hair away from martin’s forehead.
“you know my favourite part?”
“…what?”
“you smile differently now.”
martin blinked.
“i do?”
“…mhm.”
“…how?”
“…lighter.”
martin looked at him curiously.
james shrugged.
“…before…”
he traced lazy circles across the back of martin’s hand.
“…your smiles were always real.”
“…but sometimes…”
“…they looked like you were holding something back.”
he squeezed martin’s fingers gently.
“…now you don’t.”
martin’s eyes softened.
“…”
“…”
“i didn’t even realise.”
“…i know.”
“…”
“…”
“thank you.”
“for what?”
“…waiting for me.”
james didn’t answer straight away.
instead, he leaned over and rested his forehead lightly against martin’s.
“there wasn’t anywhere else i wanted to be.”
they stayed there for a while.
not talking.
just smiling quietly at one another.
until eventually, from the television, a character shouted dramatically:
“ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?”
they both turned to the screen.
“…”
“…”
martin looked at the progress bar.
“…we’ve watched…”
“…”
“…”
“twelve minutes.”
james nodded thoughtfully.
“…solid effort.”
martin laughed so hard he had to pause it again.
“…at this rate…”
“…”
“…we’ll finish the season by christmas.”
“worth it.”
martin looked at him.
then shook his head with the most hopelessly fond smile.
“…yeah.”
“…worth it.”
the episode had somehow reached number four.
martin couldn’t have told anyone what had happened in the first three.
or this one.
he’d tried.
he really had.
for about seven minutes.
then james had absent-mindedly started running his fingers through his hair again.
that had been the end of any hope of following the plot.
the living room was warm from the afternoon sun. light spilled across the wooden floor in long golden strips, the curtains shifting lazily whenever a breeze wandered in through the cracked balcony door.
everything felt…
slow.
like the whole dorm had decided to breathe a little more quietly.
martin was stretched almost impossibly across the sofa, his long legs hanging over one armrest while the rest of him was curled against james.
being nearly ten centimetres taller than everyone else had always made sofas look ridiculously undersized.
james didn’t seem to mind.
he’d tucked one leg beneath himself, the other stretched out awkwardly underneath martin’s weight, one hand holding his phone while the other drifted lazily through martin’s soft hair.
he wasn’t even thinking about it anymore.
his fingers simply knew where to move.
light scratches against his scalp.
gentle strokes behind his ear.
every now and then his fingertips caught slightly in the longer strands before smoothing them back into place.
martin let out the tiniest sleepy sigh.
james smiled without looking away from his phone.
“you’re impossible.”
another slow stroke through his hair.
“you’re like… the world’s biggest golden retriever.”
martin didn’t answer.
his breathing had become slow.
steady.
peaceful.
james looked down for a second.
his face softened immediately.
“…yeah.”
he whispered to nobody.
“thought so.”
he carefully lowered the volume on the television.
just enough that it became background noise.
then he went straight back to scrolling.
⸻
martin wasn’t asleep anymore.
he had been.
for a little while.
but he’d woken to the familiar feeling of james’s fingers moving through his hair, and instead of opening his eyes…
he’d stayed exactly where he was.
he liked this.
liked existing in these tiny moments that nobody else would ever know about.
james had become so comfortable around him.
his touches weren’t hesitant anymore.
they weren’t careful because he was worried about crossing a line.
they simply happened.
a hand finding his.
a shoulder leaning against his.
fingers brushing his hair back because it had fallen into his eyes.
it felt…
ordinary.
and somehow that made it even more special.
martin opened one eye slightly.
james hadn’t noticed.
his eyebrows kept moving as he read something on his phone.
his expressions changed every few seconds.
confused.
amused.
mildly horrified.
then quietly delighted.
martin smiled to himself.
he’d always loved how expressive james was.
you never had to guess what he was thinking.
his face told the story before he did.
martin wondered if james realised how beautiful he looked when he wasn’t trying.
probably not.
he never seemed to.
it made martin’s chest ache in the gentlest way.
they’d come so far.
from awkward trainees sharing instant noodles.
to airport floors.
to practice rooms at three in the morning.
to stadiums.
to home.
to this.
he couldn’t imagine telling the terrified seventeen-year-old version of himself that one day…
he’d wake up resting against james while james absent-mindedly played with his hair like it was the most natural thing in the world.
you would’ve exploded.
martin smiled.
probably.
⸻
“you’re reading the comments.”
james jumped so violently his phone nearly landed on the floor.
“jesus—”
he caught it just in time before looking down.
martin was watching him.
that familiar sleepy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“…you’re awake.”
“have been.”
“for how long?”
martin shrugged.
“a bit.”
“a bit?”
“long enough to watch you pull about fourteen different facial expressions.”
james covered his face with one hand.
“don’t.”
“they’re cute.”
“they’re embarrassing.”
“they’re honest.”
james peeked at him through his fingers.
“…you watched me?”
martin nodded.
“i like watching you.”
there wasn’t even the slightest embarrassment in the way he said it.
just quiet certainty.
james’s ears warmed.
“…that’s unfair.”
“why?”
“because now i feel self-conscious.”
“good.”
martin smiled.
“now we’re even.”
⸻
james shifted his legs.
immediately regretted it.
“…ow.”
martin sat up slightly.
“what?”
“i can’t feel my legs.”
“…what?”
“they’ve genuinely stopped existing.”
martin looked horrified.
“why didn’t you move me?”
“because you were asleep.”
“hyung.”
“you looked comfortable.”
“your legs are numb.”
“worth it.”
martin immediately climbed off him.
“sorry, i didn’t—”
james reached over before the sentence could finish and flicked him gently on the forehead.
“no.”
martin blinked.
“no apologising.”
“…right.”
“right.”
“it’s just…”
martin looked down.
“i didn’t realise.”
james smiled.
“i know.”
he rubbed life back into one leg with a dramatic wince.
“i’ll survive.”
“promise?”
“promise.”
⸻
they sat quietly for a moment.
martin watched james rub his leg.
then…
without thinking—
he leaned forward.
pressed a quick kiss against james’s lips.
soft.
warm.
gone almost as quickly as it had arrived.
when he pulled away—
his own eyes widened.
“…”
“…”
“…i just did that.”
james couldn’t help smiling.
“you did.”
martin looked down so quickly his fringe fell into his eyes.
his ears had gone bright pink.
“that was…”
he laughed awkwardly.
“…impulsive.”
“a little.”
“sorry—”
he stopped himself.
“…right.”
james chuckled.
“good catch.”
martin hid his face in his hands.
“please don’t look at me.”
“impossible.”
“hyung.”
“martin.”
⸻
james reached over carefully.
two fingers resting beneath martin’s chin.
he waited.
giving him every chance to pull away.
martin didn’t.
slowly…
james tipped his face upwards until their eyes met again.
“there you are.”
martin smiled despite himself.
“hi.”
“hi.”
james studied him for a second.
then leaned in.
their next kiss was slower.
neither of them rushed.
it wasn’t about surprise this time.
it was about staying.
martin’s hand found the sleeve of james’s hoodie automatically, fingers curling lightly into the soft fabric.
james could feel martin smiling for the first few seconds.
it made him smile too.
when they separated, neither of them moved very far.
their foreheads brushed.
their noses bumped gently.
martin laughed.
“we’re really bad at this.”
“i disagree.”
“biased.”
“very.”
“good.”
⸻
they looked at each other for another long moment.
then martin closed the distance first this time.
the kiss was a little more certain.
a little less nervous.
the kind that made both of them forget the television was still talking quietly in the background.
james’s hand slipped naturally to the side of martin’s face, his thumb brushing lightly along his cheek.
martin melted into it almost immediately.
he’d never known something as simple as being close to someone could make him feel so completely calm.
they smiled into another kiss.
laughed quietly when martin accidentally bumped his nose again.
then tried once more.
a little closer.
a little longer.
so comfortable in the moment that the rest of the apartment simply… disappeared.
until—
the living room door flew open.
“JAMES!”
keonho stopped dead.
his eyes became comically wide.
“…”
“…”
“…OH MY GOD.”
his scream echoed through the dorm.
“WHAT THE HELL?!”
martin and james shot apart so quickly that martin nearly slid straight off the sofa.
“KEONHO!”
“I SAW THAT!”
“you literally barged in!”
“I WAS COMING TO ASK IF YOU WANTED—”
he pointed dramatically between them.
“—AND THEN YOU WERE BOTH JUST—”
footsteps thundered down the hallway.
a bedroom door opened.
then another.
juhoon appeared first, calmly adjusting one side of his headphones.
seonghyeon followed behind him, looking like he’d only opened one eye.
“…what happened?”
keonho spun around so quickly he nearly tripped.
“THEY WERE MAKING OUT!”
silence.
martin blinked innocently.
“…what?”
james frowned with Oscar-worthy confusion.
“making out?”
“YES!”
martin looked at james.
then back at keonho.
“…i think he’s hallucinating.”
“lack of sleep,” james agreed thoughtfully.
“common symptom.”
“I’M LOOKING AT THE EVIDENCE!”
“what evidence?” martin asked.
“MY EYES!”
juhoon looked at martin’s pink cheeks.
then james’s equally guilty expression.
then at keonho.
“…hm.”
“WHAT DOES ‘HM’ MEAN?”
“it means…”
juhoon shrugged.
“…i didn’t see anything.”
keonho looked utterly betrayed.
“you’re all insane.”
seonghyeon yawned.
“or…”
he turned around.
“…you interrupted them and now they’re winding you up.”
keonho gasped.
“I KNEW IT!”
martin looked scandalised.
“baseless accusations.”
james nodded.
“deeply hurtful.”
keonho pointed one last time.
“i’m going to remember this.”
then he stomped back down the hallway muttering loudly to himself.
“i’m collecting evidence.”
his bedroom door slammed.
the apartment fell quiet again.
martin looked sideways at james.
james looked back.
they held perfectly serious expressions for exactly two seconds.
then both of them dissolved into laughter all over again.