Chapter Text
Martin
Martin didn't even realize how he got home. Everything between the studio and the usual comfort of his own room felt like a blur.
He doesn't remember his drive back to the dorm. He remembers the picture. Juhoon. The sound of the door closing.
Everything else is basically static in the back of his head.
The only thing his brain is processing right now is that he's sitting on his bed now, surrounded by nothing but the quiet of a normally crowded dorm.
Seonghyeon and Keonho had left a while ago, Juhoon probably ran off somewhere after seeing how creepy Martin was being.
So it was just him and James. Even with the comfort of his member being near — he felt more alone than ever.
The bed he's sitting on suddenly feels foreign, too uncomfortable to lay or sleep on.
It feels like thousands of nails are pressing into his calves and thighs, forcing him to sit up straight.
Martin barely registers the door opening before a voice suddenly speaks up right in front of his bed.
"Martin?" James' voice rings through in soft concern. "Hey, what happened?"
Martin just shakes his head and closes his eyes. He's not gonna cry in front of James again, not today. He's embarrassed himself enough today.
He silently prays that James will just let it go. That he will get the hint that Martin doesn't want to talk right now, but the dip of the mattress next to him just confirms James' insistent nature.
"Are you okay, man? I thought you wanted to go talk to Juhoon?"
Martin forces himself to open his eyes — even if they seem like they're glued together from unshed tears.
He doesn't look at him — wouldn't dare to. James' concerned but confused expression would probably just break him completely.
He swallows thickly before shaking his head again, running a hand over his face before it drops down next to him.
"He found out."
He almost hears James' eyes widen and his jaw drop at Martin's confession.
The silence between them settles uncomfortably. James doesn't dare to speak, while Martin has nothing else to say.
"What?"
James takes a deep breath before finally getting all his thoughts together into a coherent sentence.
"Look, I know you're probably paranoid, but I told you already–"
Martin cuts James off with a desperate tone, his voice cutting out halfway into the sentence.
"No, man, he...he saw. He knows." Martin insists, earning himself another confused look from James.
"He saw what?"
"It doesn't fucking matter, man. He knows." Martin shakes his head in a desperate act of trying to gain his composure, but the lump in his throat is too thick to swallow. He turns his head away, moving a hand to his mouth, just in case he needs to cover it any time soon.
Before James can try to reassure him, the sobs come flowing in. Slow and heartbreaking. Martin's lower lip quivers in an attempt to keep himself together, but the moment James' hands wrap around his shoulders, a dam breaks.
Tears flow in, staining James' shirt with sadness and desperation. He still can't believe that any of this is real. That Juhoon really knows.
Martin figured he was going to have to confess to him someday, but he never imagined that he wouldn't be the one to tell him.
How will he ever move on from this?
How will they be able to work together as a group when Martin and Juhoon are awkward around eachother?
How will they continue to be friends when Martin's feelings eat him up from the inside?
All of these questions will stay unanswered until he talks to Juhoon.
But he won't talk to him. Never. Juhoon can't even look him in the eye right now, how would they ever hold a coherent conversation without miscommunication?
Martin had already came to the conclusion that Juhoon wouldn't be interested in him — but that breathless, disbelieving gasp stang more than it should've, considering that he has accepted that Juhoon is straight.
Right?
Right?
James slowly pulls away from the hug, looking Martin into the eyes. "Talk to me, okay? What exactly did he see?"
Martin sniffles and sighs. "It's stupid, it's so stupid."
James doesn't interrupt, just waits for him to explain himself.
"I...In my gallery there are like a few pictures of Juhoon. And-..when I was in the studio I drew like, like a heart around his face." Martin wipes the tears from his eyes. "I just thought it was cute, it wasn't supposed to be weird or mocking or anything. I just did it because I think Juhoon's really pretty and it was just like an attempt at humor. I wasn't trying to hide it forever! I just didn't think he'd see it–."
James cuts off his rambling with a shush, telling him to quiet down. "Hey, calm down, okay? You don't need to overexplain anything, I understand."
"No, no, it's creepy if I don't tell you."
James just sighs in response. "Okay, just listen to me. You don't know what Juhoon's thinking right now."
Martin shakes his head in protest. "I do."
"No, you don't. You're projecting your feelings onto him. You think that Juhoon thinks you're creepy, because you think that. We don't know Juhoon's thoughts, so we can't assume anything. And knowing him he's probably just as anxious as you are."
Another uncomfortable silence settles over the room. Martin feels strangely grounded now. Sometimes he really thinks that James is some kind of magician with the way he calms people down.
But there's still a lingering thought in his head — the one telling him that Juhoon thinks that he's an obsessive weirdo.
But maybe James is right, maybe it is projection.
He hopes so.
He hopes so more than anything.
Desperately.
—
Juhoon
The cold sting of the park bench underneath his thin clothes is the only thing grounding Juhoon in reality right now.
For the past hour or so he's been thinking about the earlier events in the studio.
Martin. The picture. His own confusion.
Everything just scrambles into one big questionmark at the back of his head. And everytime he thinks he reached an answer, another question takes its place.
He's confused, afraid — maybe. But most of all, he's concerned for Martin.
The look on his face when he turned around was heartbreaking — he had looked so worried, like something sacred was about to break.
And Juhoon really doesn't know how to feel — neither does he know what any of this really means.
But if it did mean what he tought it meant, then suddenly the past few months make a bit more sense.
Martin's persistent concern and care for Juhoon's health — even during minor colds or injuries.
The way he'd compliment his clothes in a way that seemed a little bit more intimate than casual.
The way he panicked when Juhoon took off his shirt in front of him.
The heart around the picture.
But he really can't assume anything, all these things wouldn't be enough to confirm anything.
Friend's cared about eachother, complimented eachother, maybe even drew crooked hearts around eachothers faces.
Juhoon lets out a sigh, rubbing his hands together in the freezing cold of the Seoul night.
But, why did Martin look so terrified? If it was something innocent, why did he feel the need to explain himself?
Maybe the heart was just an attempt at humor, but then why didn't he just laugh it off? Why did he look at Juhoon like he had just lost him forever?
His thoughts drift back to the time where he dressed in front of Martin.
He had looked away out of respect — right? Then why did he catch him stealing a look anyway?
Why did he even care in the first place? James walks around the dorm without a shirt all the time, why does it only matter when it's him?
And the restaurant, maybe Martin was trying to avoid him. Or maybe he was just worried about what that would mean for the both of them.
Maybe Martin hadn't known how to hide it.
Or maybe Juhoon just simply never noticed.
Juhoon shakes his head and gets up from the bench, grabbing his bag before walking back to the dorm.
—
The dorm door opens, a wave of comfortable heat hitting him immediately. He puts his bag down and takes his shoes off begore hanging his coat up next to Martin's. As he walks through the dorm, he passes by Martin's door.
He steps in front of it, raising a hand to the door handle.
He almost knocks, almost.
But something seems to hold him back.
What would he even ask in the first place.
Do you like me? No, too confrontational.
Do you want me? Absolutely not, that's an insane thing to ask.
Juhoom let's out a sigh, shaking his head and deciding against confrontation. It would most likely only make both of them more awkward around eachother.
Or would it?
Juhoon turns to his own room before he gets to think too much about it.
But sleep obviously doesn't come easily.
Everytime he closes his eyes, he sees the crooked red heart, Martin's expression, and his shaky voice when he tried to explain.
He doesn't know what Martin wants.
Neither does he know what he wants
And somehow that second question scares him more than it should.
More than anything does he want to understand Martin.
The terrifying part is that he wants to understand himself just as badly.
Desperately.