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I.
See, Martin isn’t blind.
He is aware of how his height knows no bounds. And he is also aware of the fact that he has been taller than Juhoon ever since he’s known that boy.
But the first time he really notices that Juhoon is much shorter than him happens on a regular, uneventful Tuesday morning. Martin walks into the kitchen and finds Juhoon standing on his tiptoes, trying to reach something on the upper shelf. He can't help but smile at the sight—Juhoon is still wearing his bed shorts, the stupid SpongeBob ones, his hair is messy and his expression is clearly disgruntled as, despite his efforts, he can't reach.
Juhoon isn’t short by any means either. Perfectly average. But the members often fell victim to Martin taking things from the kitchen and then mindlessly putting them in places where an average heighted male might not reach without tangible assistance.
Seems like today’s target was Juhoon.
He stops his attempts when he notices Martin; he crosses his arms, looking up at him with a pout. "Can you please hand me the coffee? I have no idea who put it up there."
Martin shrugs. "Sorry, Keonho and I aren’t so tiny, you can't expect us to remember you wouldn't be able to reach." He easily grabs the jar. It definitely was he himself put it there without thinking; he genuinely is a bit surprised at how short Juhoon is. In theory, he knew, but he never paid much attention. In the end, he has many female friends, who are shorter. Heck, even some of his male friends are shorter than Juhoon.
But as he looks down at Juhoon now, he finally registers it; their height difference is quite big.
"I'm not tiny, you are just ridiculously tall," Juhoon mumbles, but he doesn't look upset.
"Sure. Here," he hands Juhoon the jar. He feels weirdly pleased about it but he doesn't understand why and doesn't stop to analyze it.
"Thanks," Juhoon says and turns to their little coffee station to start preparing the coffee.
And that's it; nothing out of ordinary. Except, for some reason, that image of Juhoon looking up at him with a soft, barely there smile as he handed him the jar, sticks with him.
II.
Martin is about to unwrap a chocolate snack bar—the last thing he was able to find in the snack cupboard— when someone grabs his arm.
"Hey!" It's Juhoon and he's eyeing the snack with an adorable frown. "That's mine."
"Oh?" Unfazed, Martin continues his attempts to tear the wrapper open. "I don't see your name signed on it."
"You know perfectly well I bought it this morning when we went shopping," Juhoon squints. "Give it back."
Martin grins. "Try and take it." He holds the snack above his head, out of Juhoon's reach. Once again, he can't help but take note of their height difference— and this time he's going to use to his advantage.
Juhoon narrows his eyes. "That's not fair!" But he lunges for it anyway, grabbing Martin's arm— he's stronger than he looks, and it hurts, but not enough for him to give up. He laughs and pushes Juhoon away, putting the bar behind his back. Though Juhoon tries to get at it from different angles, he can't reach it. He doesn't seem too upset though; Martin knows the tell tale signs of his actually upset face. He thinks he looks adorable jumping around like that, his eyes sparkling with competitiveness.
Finally Juhoon manages to manoeuvre him against the wall where he can move no further.
"I see you're not gonna give up," Martin says, still holding the snack out of Juhoon's reach.
"Of course not. It's mine," Juhoon says seriously. Then he tilts his head and bats his eyelashes at Martin. "Pwease give it to me?"
“Are you really using aegyo on me? Is that what we’ve resorted to?”
It shouldn't work on Martin, it really shouldn't— but he finds himself smiling and handing the bar to Juhoon anyway. He tells himself it's just because he's tired of fooling around, and Juhoon was right—the snack was his in the first place.
Juhoon smirks triumphantly as he removes the wrapper, looking quite literally like a cat that got the cream. He's so cute, Martin thinks again. And then Juhoon breaks the snack in two and hands him the half that's still in the wrapper.
"Here," he says; his smile is playful but his tone is soft. Juhoon is just like that, he thinks— determined to get what he wants, but selfless at the same time. Martin's heart jumps in his chest at the warmth in Juhoon's eyes; he ignores the strange feeling and just laughs, shaking his head.
"No, it's okay, you eat it. You need to grow—" He doesn't get to finish as Juhoon shuts him up by pushing the chocolate into his mouth.
"Dumbass," he huffs, sounding more fond than annoyed.
The chocolate is sweet but, as cheesy it is to think that, Martin finds Juhoon much sweeter.
III.
It's late when Martin comes back home after a pretty intense workout session. He's tired and sleepy, so as he walks into the living room, where Juhoon is sitting on the sofa watching what looks like a horror movie, he doesn't even notice what Juhoon is wearing. He grabs a bottle of water from the kitchen and flops down on the sofa next to Juhoon, and only then it occurs to him— Juhoon's hoodie looks too big for him. And it suspiciously looks a lot like Martin's favourite hoodie.
"Is that my hoodie?" he asks. Juhoon tenses beside him but he doesn't react otherwise.
"Yeah," he answers.
"Yeah, no shit, you're pretty much drowning in it."
He expects Juhoon to make some sort of a snarky comeback, but he doesn't respond. He just shifts on the couch, hugging his legs, resting his chin on his knees. He looks so tiny like this, Martin thinks. And oh— his cheeks are tinted with pink. Is he blushing?
"So you like wearing it?”
"Yeah," comes the mumbled reply. "It's... warm." Juhoon's blush seems to intensify. And well, Martin is not dumb. He suspected it before but now he's almost sure that Juhoon— somehow Juhoon has a crush on him now.
He has no idea what to do about it, though. It's funny. It's not like he wouldn't want to date Juhoon. Juhoon is cute, kind, funny, and possibly the prettiest person he knows. He should be happy, or at least flattered that someone like Juhoon has feelings for him.
Instead, he's scared. Juhoon's last breakup was messy and even though it's been a while, Martin still remembers how badly he was hurt. Even though Minho was a kind person, even though they never meant to hurt each other— shit happens. And Martin would rather die than see Juhoon like that again. And if he was the one to hurt him, he'd never forgive himself.
"If you like it, you can have it," he says, voice light. "I'm tired, I'm gonna hit the bed."
"Okay." Juhoon snacks on his crisps. "I'm making breakfast tomorrow so you better not oversleep."
It's spoken like a playful threat, but Martin can see the tenderness in Juhoon's eyes. Somehow, it hurts him to see it; he’s not sure he deserves it.
IV.
Practice finally ends after two hours of relentless choreography. The room is filled with heavy breathing, laughter, and the soft thuds of sneakers against the wooden floor as everyone sprawled out to rest.
Juhoon sits cross-legged by the mirror, towel draped around his neck, still catching his breath. His bangs cling to his forehead, damp with sweat, but his eyes gleam with satisfaction — they’d finally nailed the tricky formation that had been haunting them all week.
Martin strolls over, water bottle in hand, still grinning from ear to ear. “Good job, Jju,” he says, voice warm and slightly teasing.
Juhoon looks up, one eyebrow raised. “You sound surprised.”
Martin laughs, crouching beside him. “Not surprised. Just proud.” and before Juhoon can react, Martin’s hand comes up — fingers brushing through his hair, giving a light, absentminded ruffle.
Juhoon freezes.
Martin doesn't even realize at first — he is already standing up again, turning to grab his jacket. But when he looks back, Juhoon is glaring at him, face faintly pink.
“Did you just—” Juhoon sputters, straightening up and running a hand through his hair, “—pat my head?”
Martin blinks, a smile forming on his face. “Maybe.”
Juhoon scowls, cheeks warming up. “Don’t do that.”
“Why not?” Martin leans against the mirror behind him, far too casual for Juhoon’s liking. “You’re the perfect height for it.”
Juhoon shoots up immediately, stepping closer so that he has to tilt his head back just a little to meet Martin’s gaze. “Say that again, and I’ll bite your kneecaps next time.”
Martin grins wider — he is definitely enjoying this way too much. “You promise?”
Juhoon groans and shoves past him, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like a threat. But as he walks away, Martin catches the corners of his mouth twitch upward. Later, when they leave the studio, Juhoon catches his reflection in the hallway mirror — hair still slightly mussed. He sighs, brushing it down.
“Perfect height, my ass,” he mutters.
But there is a tiny smile playing on his lips that refused to fade.
V.
Today is a weird day.
It’s a fucking travesty, is what it is. Because Juhoon already spent most of his time after practice last night trying to make a passable bowl of chicken soup for Martin’s sudden cold, and then try to survive on nothing but coffee and still somehow think that’s not going to fuck with their immune system—and now, just as Martin is about to leave for a composing session only mildly grumpy and red-nosed, he just.
Juhoon opens his mouth, and says, “Wait.”
So Martin does, obviously. Because—and he’s pretty sure the boy knows this already—Martin would do anything for him.
So. He tries to swallow. Says, “Yeah?”
And then Juhoon—
He obviously benefits shamelessly from the fact Martin is frozen and presses a kiss – a fucking kiss - to Martin’s slightly-warmer-than-usual forehead, pushing Martin’s hair out of the way with his right hand.
And the edge of Juhoon’s mouth twitches, and he says, “It’s almost like I’m your wife, isn’t it? Kissing you goodbye before you leave for work?”
The point is—
Well. Martin is potentially still too feverish to articulate a point out of the tangled mess of feelings in his chest labelled Juhoon, but he knows one thing with absolute certainty in this blessed moment of reprieve. He wants Juhoon to be his wife. He realises how ridiculous that thought is. He is seventeen, for God's sake. He just—he wants Juhoon to be his.
“Oh my god,” says Martin, placing both hands over his face and completely ignoring the fact he’s an almost adult and an idol.
“Is something wrong?” asks the completely clueless object of Martin’s affections. All of them, in no specific order and at maximum intensity.
Martin truly doesn’t know if anyone can be this clueless. “I – nothing, I.. I’m gonna go, ‘kay bye.” And he rushes out the door before something further embarrassing transpires right now.
+1
It's Christmas season, finally.
The staff didn't really let them play outside in the snow because they all have a flight to catch to L.A. the next day, and no one can afford to get sick. They were all a little bummed out but Juhoon and James made dinner while the younger trio decorated their place up.
"Doesn't really look much different." Keonho sips on his orange juice. He's true. considering their ever present Christmas tree that had carved a permanent space for itself in their living room.
The evening is cozy, they all laugh, enjoy karaoke, and decorate their individual gingerbread houses. James wins by a landslide.
Soon enough, Keonho calls their manager to take permission to go to the nearby convenience store as they're out of ramen. James and Seonghyeon follow suit soon after, leaving Martin and Juhoon to their own devices.
"Wanna wrestle, hyung?" Juhoon smirks from where he's lying upside down on the couch, kissing his biceps. "I've been training."
Martin clicks his tongue. They both end up running around the living room like carefree children— but soon enough Martin has Juhoon pinned down.
"I win," he grins.
"Not fair," Juhoon whines, but he's smiling. "You're bigger."
"Then maybe you should have tried harder."
"You think I wasn't trying? I hate losing."
"Not to me," Martin retorts, tone turning quiet, more serious, because he's noticed, that Juhoon often puts him first. Juhoon looks surprised for a moment, as if he's not sure he's reading the words correctly, but then his expression softens.
"You see right through me, don't you..." he whispers. The look he gives Martin is so warm it could probably melt the snow outside. "Then why..." Juhoon trails off, and for a moment he looks lost— Martin understands the question he was about to asks was 'why haven't you done anything yet' and what he's thinking now must be 'do you not like me back?'
And Juhoon looks so pretty like this, panting from exertion, his eyes sparkling, his cheeks ruddy, his mouth so pouty and kissable— and Martin thinks, to hell with being cautious.
He leans down and presses his lips to Juhoon's.
It's funny, how something as brief as that kiss can make him feel so much. And it can change so much between them. All he can feel when he pulls back is how hard his heart is pounding, and how warm his face is; he must be blushing. Despite that, he’s not shy or embarrassed. He stands up and helps Juhoon up, not letting go of his hand after. Juhoon beams up at him; he doesn't seem to notice that his hat fell off and it's still lying in the snow. Martin is about to mention it when Juhoon suddenly laughs breathlessly, and leaps into his arms, burying his face in his shoulder.
"Woah, what-?"
"Sorry, I'm just happy."
Martin practically melts at that. To think there are people out there who believe Juhoon is cold, when he can be so honest with his feelings, when he makes it so obvious how much he likes Martin. He wraps his arms around Juhoon, holding him close. He really is quite small, he thinks fondly, I could kiss the top of his head.
And so he does. He has no reason to hold back; he's determined to shower Juhoon with love from now on. And, strangely enough, he's not scared anymore. He trusts his heart, and it's telling him this is something that will last.