Chapter Text
It's small things stacking up one by one until everything feels like it might explode.
Martin is happy. A little tired, sure, but that comes with the work. He's making music, performing on stage, gaining fans, doing all of it with his friends. He's living the dream.
But the more time they spend together, crammed in dorms, sharing bathrooms, the harder it gets to hide. To hide that his body doesn't look the way they'd expect. So he's careful. Always careful.
But sometimes towels slip. Sometimes someone walks in at the wrong moment, and Martin has to play it off, laugh it away, redirect attention. No one's said anything. No one's asked. Sometimes he thinks he should just tell them. Get it over with. Rip off the band-aid. But like... who asked, right? It's not exactly casual conversation material. Hey, pass the rice. Also, I don't have a dick-
So, Martin doesn't tell them. Well, he doesn't tell all of them.
He tells James.
Because he's dying to talk about it with someone, and when he runs through the list, Seonghyeon is off because he'd probably make it weird without meaning to. Keonho is off because Martin can already hear the awkward oh, cool, man. Juhoon is off because, well, did he ask? His reaction would be exactly that: did I ask? And Martin needs... more than that. He needs a reaction, something he can see and gauge and understand. He needs to know where he stands after the words leave his mouth.
So. James. Hyung.
Martin corners him in the practice room after everyone else has left, heart hammering, words tumbling out in a rush. He rehearsed it a dozen times in his head, but the actual moment? Completely off-script.
And James just... listens. Just stands there, and when Martin finally runs out of words, James steps forward and pulls him into a hug. Martin never expects James to hug him.
Martin and James don't always vibe, per se. Their conversations sometimes start strong and then fizzle out into awkward silence, both of them sitting there scrolling their phones because neither knows what else to say. They're friendly, sure, but not close.
And all of that is in a past tense now because the hug just changed everything, thinks Martin, smiling.
Whatever invisible wall has been standing between them just... crumbles. And Martin can feel it, the permission to just be himself next to James now. The knowledge that he can always, always come to James now.
They have a connection -Martin's diary entry of that day.
After that, they get visibly closer.
The others notice, though no one comments. Martin starts gravitating toward James, sitting next to him, partnering with him during rehearsals, falling into easy conversation that actually goes somewhere now. James starts seeking him out too. Casual touches. Inside jokes that no one else understands.
It's three days after the hug, and Martin is looking for James.
He checks the practice room first, the dorm- Keonho says he left an hour ago. Martin texts him, no response, which is weird because James always responds. Always.
He wanders the company building, peeking into rooms, until he finds a door tucked at the end of a hallway near the old storage area. The kind of place you'd only find if you were actively walking around, checking every corner, like Martin.
Martin tries the handle. Unlocked.
Inside is small, just a couch, a table, some chairs. Probably an old break room from before they renovated. There's a window propped open.
And there's James.
He's sitting on the couch, one leg crossed over the other, head tilted back against the cushions. There's a cigarette between his fingers, smoke curling up in the air. His eyes are closed as he puts the cigarette back between his lips.
Martin stands in the doorway, watches. He's seen people smoke before. Obviously. But this is different.
There's something about the way James does it. The way his throat moves when he swallows. The way his fingers hold the cigarette.
"What's up?"
Martin jolts.
"I- " Martin steps inside, letting the door click shut behind him. "I was looking for you."
"Found me." James takes another drag, finally opens his eyes, "What do you need?"
"Nothing. I just- " Martin moves closer, "I didn't know you smoked."
James huffs a quiet laugh, "There's a lot you don't know about me, Martin."
Martin sits down on the couch, leaving space between them but not much. "Then tell me."
James looks at him for a long moment. Then he leans forward, taps ash into an empty soda can on the table. "What do you want to know?"
"Why do you smoke?"
James settles back, cigarette dangling from his fingers. "Feels good. Calms me down."
Martin watches the smoke curl between them. "Can I try?"
"No."
Martin almost whines, cuts it off last second, and a slow smile spreads across James's face.
Martin flushes, "So…What else do you smoke? Like- what- what brand...?"
James laughs, and the sound does something to Martin's chest, first time making James laugh, Martin thinks, giddy.
James takes one last drag, then stubs the cigarette out in the can. He leans back, "Vape. Weed when I actually want to relax."
Martin's eyes widen. "You have weed?"
"Sometimes."
"Have you smoked here? In the building?"
"What do you think this room is for?" James gestures vaguely at the space around them. "No cameras. No one comes here. Door locks from the inside."
Martin looks around with new understanding. "So this is your spot."
"Was. Now you know about it." James tilts his head, studying Martin. "You gonna snitch?"
"No."
"Okay." James's hand moves, casual, and lands on Martin's knee. Just rests there, "Then it's our spot now."
Martin smiles, "Our spot."
James nods, "You can come here whenever. If you need to get away from everyone. If you need to think. If you just want to sit."
They sit like that for a while, the smoke smell clings to James's clothes, the couch, the air. Martin breathes it in and thinks he's never liked the smell of cigarettes before, but on James, it's different.
On James, everything is different.
"Hyung?"
"Mm?"
"Will you teach me? Sometime. Not now, but-" Martin looks at him. "I want to know what it's like."
James studies him for a long moment. Then he nods slowly. "Yeah. Okay."
Martin never showers with the door unlocked when anyone else is around. Obviously. But one day, it's just him and James in the dorm, and James is dead asleep when Martin slips into the bathroom.
So he doesn't lock the door. The water is hot, steam filling the small bathroom, and Martin is half-lost in thought, scrubbing at his back with the loofah at an awkward angle, when the door opens.
Martin holds his breath, back still turned to the door.
James stands in the doorway, then he steps inside. He crosses to the shower, eyes flicking down, takes the loofah from Martin's hand, and starts washing his back. Martin shudders, heart hammering, as he actively fights the stupid urge to turn around, pull James close and...do what, exactly? He doesn't know.
Why is Martin being so horny? He thinks. This is normal. Is it? Martin is such a virgin. Maybe Martin should meet someone- James is probably so experienced, Martin can't embarrass himself next to-
Martin suddenly feels James's hands on his skin. He's holding Martin's waist while he moves the loofah slowly, up and down. The touch is gentle. Then the hand on his waist moves up, and Martin arches a little, covering his mouth.
James leaves after that, closing the door behind him, and Martin stands in the shower for another ten minutes, heart pounding.
Martin really needs to have an experience.
Things are going so fine lately, his teammates are amazing, he is so so close with James now, and also, he met someone.
They hit it off immediately, freaky and fun and exactly what Martin's been craving. Someone who gets it. Gets him. Martin lies in his dorm bed, staring at the ceiling in the dark, trying to contain his giggles.
A pillow smacks him in the face.
"Stop giggling," Keonho grumbles from the bed across the room, voice rough with sleep.
"Just let him be," Seonghyeon mutters from the third bed. "You just woke me up, dude."
Martin burrows under his blanket, phone clutched to his chest, still grinning like an idiot. He opens his messages and says goodnight with a heart emoji. The reply comes almost immediately. A selfie. In bed. Shirtless, messy hair, sleepy smile.
Martin's mouth falls open. So they can do this. He's finally doing this. He's finally one of the cool kids, the kind who gets late-night selfies, who knows stuff. He drifts off to sleep with the biggest smile on his face.
That afternoon, Martin sneaks out to meet his... whatever this is. When their hands brush across the table, Martin's heart nearly explodes. He floats back to the dorm. Opens his phone and stares at the contact name. It needs something better. He types "bae," cringes, deletes it.
Finally settles on: situationship.
Perfect. He sighs happily, he's doing that a lot lately, looks at the single red rose he got today from him. The shower is still busy, after Keonho, Seonghyeon's going in. Martin sighs, and gets up. Guess he's taking the bath today.
Martin runs the water hot, tosses in a bath bomb that turns the water lilac. Then, and this feels almost too romantic, but fuck it, he pulls petals from the single rose and scatters them across the surface. He sinks in with a contented sigh.
Martin traces his fingers along his own skin. Somehow, his mind brings in James, how his touch felt on his skin. Then, he is following the same path his situationship's hands had touched him. His collarbone. His ribs. Neck.
An idea strikes. He grabs his phone from the edge of the tub, wipes his hands on the bathmat, angles his body carefully. Takes a picture.
He's finally sending his first suggestive photo.
But then he notices his lower half is visible in the frame. Martin stares at it, heart suddenly loud in his chest. He hasn't told him about his body yet. Not fully. Only James knows. Should he-
No. Too early. Way too early.
He crops the photo, adjusts the framing until it's just collarbone, lips, chest, waist. He arches slightly, making his chest visible. The rose petals float around him in the pretty lilac water. Everything is perfect. Sick pic, honestly.
Martin smiles, giddy all over again, and opens his messages to find the contact. The water makes his iPhone screen act stupid. His wet fingers slip, opening random chats. He groans, pulls his hand back, wipes his hand and phone on the mat.
He looks back at the screen, and his heart stops. No. No no no no no.
He just sent that picture to James. He watches in horror as the status changes from Delivered to Seen. James saw it. James saw-
"Fuck!" Martin scrambles to delete the picture, water splashing everywhere. But before he can, a new message pops up.
A picture.
From James.
Martin's thumb hovers over it, frozen.
Oh.
Oh?
Oh, shit.
It's James's jaw and lips, his neck, broad shoulders on full display. One hand behind his head, bicep flexed. The lighting is good.
Wow.
10/10.
Martin swallows hard and saves the picture before his brain can catch up with his actions. Then, scandalized with himself, he immediately deletes it from his gallery. He goes back to KakaoTalk. The picture James sent is gone, deleted from the chat. Martin groans, sad, then opens his phone's trash folder. Scrolls through. Finds James's photo and restores it.
Then stares at it for a long moment, face burning. The more he stares, the higher the rating climbs. 20/10. 100/10. The number keeps going up, and Martin feels... weird.
He closes his eyes and sinks lower into the cooling bathwater. He stays there until his fingers prune, until the water turns lukewarm, until he changes his password to ten characters and memorizes it. Finally, he drains the tub. Wraps himself in a towel. Listens carefully at the bathroom door, ear pressed.
Nothing. Everyone's asleep. Martin slips back into his room as quietly as possible, tiptoes to his bed, slides under the covers.
Martin stares at the ceiling, and still thinks,
James hyung has really nice shoulders.
The next day, he's fighting with James, and he doesn't even know how it starts.
"Chase Atlantic?"
"Okay, I don't like your tone."
"You can fuck to Chase Atlantic? Let me guess, 'Into It?'" James doesn't even look up from his phone, voice flat.
"...I still don't like your tone," Martin glares at him. "The hell is wrong with fucking while 'Into It' plays?"
"It's a song you get drunk and high to. I don't think I could get hard if that song plays."
"Maybe that's a you problem."
James finally looks up, one eyebrow raised. "You usually have a good taste when it comes to songs, but not sensual ones, I see."
"Hyung, Neighbourhood songs slap too."
"No- okay, look- I am telling you, those songs are for getting drunk and grinding against people in a club. Not when you're trying to fuck someone."
Martin visibly deflates, then he stands, getting fed up. "'Earned It' by The Weeknd?"
"Tried it. Didn't work."
Martin groans. "You have no taste."
"I mean- " James shrugs, finally setting his phone down. "It's about fucking. Not whatever song's playing. Who cares, anyway? Once you've got someone there, your attention should be on them."
Martin deflates. "You were almost there..."
"Almost where?"
"Look, hyung, like imagine Chase Atlantic playing while you kiss- "
"The high note would snap me out of it."
"No, but before kissing, you'd strip, like, you'd grind, and the light would be dim, imagine- "
James pulls up "Swim" on his phone.
Martin stares at him. "What are you doing?"
"Proving a point."
"That 'Swim' is sensual and definitely a sex song?"
"No. That no matter what, I could never get hard to this- even if I had someone sucking me off."
Martin's anger flares all over again, "Then prove it."
James's head snaps toward Martin.
"Prove... what?"
Martin's heart is pounding, but he doesn't back down. "That you can't get hard- or like, feel the song when- Just prove it."
"How exactly do you want me to- "
"Let me rub you."
"Nah-"
"Whip it out-"
"That'll just be me getting hard because you're- Not because of 'Swim'-"
Martin moves, grabs a remote, turns the head light off and then puts on the LED light in the room. Then he just stands there, thinking.
"You're right." Martin finally mutters. James leans back against the headboard, arms crossed, rolling his eyes.
Martin takes a breath. Then his fingers find the zipper of his hoodie.
"The hell- "
"Just shut up and watch. I am proving my point." Martin tells him.
He pulls it down slowly, in time with the first verse. The fabric parts, revealing the thin tank top underneath, the line of his collarbones. He lets the hoodie slip off one shoulder. Then the other. It falls to the floor.
His hips sway, just a little. The song builds, and Martin moves with it, cheeks burning.
James shifts slightly.
Martin turns around. His back is to James now, and he can feel eyes on him as his fingers curl into the hem of his tank top. He drags it up slowly, over his ribs, his shoulder blades, and pulls it over his head. Lets it drop.
For a moment, he just stands there. Lets James look.
Then his hands slide down to the waistband of his jeans. He pops the button. The zipper follows. Martin hooks his thumbs into the denim and pushes it down, over the curve of his hips, the swell of his ass.
He bends forward as he does, arching his back, and he knows what James is seeing. The black panties clinging to him.
Behind him, James is quiet.
Martin steps out of his jeans and straightens. The song shifts, and he turns back around. Martin walks toward James, until he's standing right in front of the bed. Right in front of James. He reaches down and takes James's hand.
James's free hand lifts towards Martin's hip, his hand lands on his inner thigh, sliding up slowly. The other settles on his waist, pulling him closer.
"Hyung-"
James leans in and presses an open-mouthed kiss just below Martin's navel. Martin jolts, a shiver running down his spine. Both hands land on James's shoulders.
James opens his mouth a little and his teeth graze skin. Martin whimpers, involuntary, then immediately slaps a hand over his own mouth and pushes at James's chest. James freezes. Pulls back.
Martin pants, face burning, then before he can second-guess himself, he drops to his knees and grabs James's dick through his sweatpants. It's hard, straining against the fabric. Martin swallows, something pops up in his head, an image of him taking it-
He grins up at him instead, a little shaky, "Ta-da, fucker. You got hard. I win. See? It's good- The guy I met- He likes Swim-"
James reaches down, cups Martin's jaw with one hand, and tilts his face up.
"Is that all you can do?"
Martin blinks, "What?"
"You proved I got hard. Congratulations." James's thumb brushes over Martin's bottom lip.
"But you didn't prove shit about the song."
Martin flushes, what- where is this going-
James stands up, "You and that guy both have shit taste." and stands up.
Martin is still on the floor when James says, "Next time, I will choose the song, then we'll see what happens when the song is actually good."
The next day, they board a plane, as scheduled, halfway through a Swiss schedule, and James is still thinking about the way Martin has been acting lately, distracted, glowing, insufferably happy about some guy, as his eyes follow Martin across the field.
James groans a little when Martin falls into a puddle. Both boots, both knees, a small splash, and people across the field react almost all at once. Some people laugh. Some jog over to help. James stands still and shakes his head.
He'd watched it happen, of course. Had been watching Martin for the better part of an hour already. Martin chasing the sheep with his phone out, Martin tilting his head back to stare at the sky, Martin crouching in the grass to photograph something small and insignificant but precious only to him. Switzerland stretched around them, beautiful, and Martin moved through it in awe.
Now Martin is being scolded, lightly, the way you scold someone you cannot actually be angry at. His shorts are soaked through. His boots are ruined. And one by one James watches the staff fold, a smile breaking through here, a softened voice there, until someone is fixing Martin's collar for him and someone else is pressing a candy into his palm.
That's the thing about Martin.
There's something in him that makes people want to tend to him. He isn't helpless, not even slightly, but he receives care so openly, so happily, that giving it to him gives happiness right back. Answering his questions. Fixing his clothes. Reaching out to smooth his hair, it gives genuine joy back to people, which is strange when you think about it.
James watches a moment longer. Then, while everyone moves around Martin, he turns and walks back toward the puddle. He crouches down at the edge of it. The water is still, brown at the edges, Martin's fall left two deep prints, and James looks at it for a moment. Then he reaches out and puts his hand in the water.
Martin fell here. His body touched here.
James closes his eyes. Doesn't pull away immediately. He stays there, touching the exact spot where Martin lost his balance.
It's cool beneath his palm, and he stays crouched there, as he looks back at Martin, who is still laughing, unaware of what he does to people.
Then Juhoon is walking up to James, and he pulls his hand away, goes back to music video shooting.
The next day, they're still shooting, but Martin is...different. Sad.
Not dramatically sad, not crying-into-his-pillow sad, he is dim. He sits with his knees pulled up, phone face-down in his lap, and doesn't reach for it once, which is how Keonho notices first.
"What happened?" Keonho asks, hovering. Then, when Martin doesn't answer, "Did someone say something to you?"
Seonghyeon drifts over too, drawn by some shared instinct, and now both of them are orbiting Martin, trying to figure out what happened without pushing too hard. Martin just shakes his head. Gives them a small smile.
Juhoon sits beside him, eating chips, occasionally offering Martin one. Martin takes them. That's something, at least.
James sits across from them and looks down at his phone. Three messages, from an unsaved number.
sorry
i didn't know
won't meet him again.
James may or may not have followed Martin. May or may not have waited outside. May or may not have introduced himself afterward to the guy.
He has no right. He's aware of that. But he just couldn't accept the fact that Martin is getting touched by another guy, getting kissed, or learning new things- like, sending half naked pictures to a stranger- no, nope.
That night, in a production trailer, James rooms with Martin.
Martin has his forehead against the window, watching Switzerland, and James is watching Martin.
James lets himself look the way he only allows when Martin isn't paying attention, watches Martin who is still dim and sad about some other guy who doesn't deserve a single hair of Martin.
James settles back, closes his eyes, but what he doesn't expect is his phone to vibrate.
A message. From Martin. Who is literally two steps away.
Martin: hyung
James: ?
Martin: so. you remember that picture i sent u
James: yep
Martin: so……… just asking. was anything weird about it?
James looks at Martin's back, at the slight tension in his shoulders, the way he's curled around his phone waiting. So, he's still thinking about that guy. Still picking at it.
James types: send another one. i don't remember the old one.
Martin shifts. Then James's phone vibrates. A selfie. Still from the bath. James saves it. He looks at the picture for a moment. Then he gets up.
Martin turns as he approaches, phone still clutched in both hands, face already red.
"You're bad at taking suggestive pictures," James tells him.
Martin blinks up at him. Says nothing.
James reaches down and takes the phone from his hands. "You need to feel it." He sets the phone on the bed beside Martin's head. "Let me show you."
James peels back the blanket. Martin lets him.
He crouches beside the bed, puts one hand down next to Martin's head, and with the other takes the collar of his shirt and draws it sideways, until Martin's collarbone is exposed. Picks up the phone. Takes a picture.
He slides his hands under the shirt. Martin shivers immediately.
James draws the fabric up slowly, watching Martin's face, the parted mouth, the wide eyes, the way he doesn't stop him, the way he wouldn't stop him, and pushes the shirt up until his chest is bare. Takes a picture. Moves his hand to Martin's waist. Takes a picture. His palm settles on Martin's stomach and goosebumps break out across Martin's whole body.
James leans down, "This," he says quietly, "is how you take suggestive pictures."
His finger brushes, barely, across Martin's nipple.
Martin whimpers quietly, a full-body thing, barely swallowed.
James stays there. Nose at the curve of Martin's neck, breathing him in, warm skin, the faint sweetness of Martin's body wash.
He pulls back. Sits back on his heels and hands Martin his phone, and Martin takes it with slightly unsteady hands.
James settles back onto his own bed. Watches Martin. Watches him, and feels sudden anger. All this, because of some nameless guy?
Martin's still staring at his phone, at the pictures James just took of him, face flushed. He looks up when he hears the lighter click.
"What's that?"
James brings the joint to his lips, lights it, inhales deep.
Martin sits up, phone forgotten. "You brought weed?"
"Relax. It's legal here." James takes another hit, feeling the familiar ease settle into his shoulders. "Switzerland's got better shit than Korea anyway."
"Can I try?"
James exhales, smoke curling between them in the dim trailer. "Come here then."
Martin scrambles over, settling on James's bed without hesitation. James holds out the joint. "You're gonna cough. Everyone does the first time."
"Okay."
"I'm serious. Don't try to be tough about it."
Martin nods, reaches for it, brings it to his lips and inhales.
Immediately he starts coughing, eyes watering, face going red. He shoves the joint back at James and covers his mouth.
"Told you," James says, but his free hand comes up automatically, rubbing Martin's back in slow circles. "Breathe through your nose. You're fine."
Martin's eyes are streaming now, and he's making these small wounded sounds between coughs that shouldn't be as endearing as they are. "Tha-fuck- that sucked-"
"Yeah, it does. First time always sucks." James tells him, "You want to try again or you done?"
Martin wipes his eyes, stubborn. "Again."
"Course you do." James shifts closer. "Different way this time."
"What way?"
James takes a long pull, holds it, then cups Martin's jaw with one hand and tilts his face up.
Martin's eyes go wide.
James leans in so close their lips almost touch, and exhales slowly. The smoke spills between them, and Martin's mouth opens on instinct, breathing it in. His hands come up, gripping James's hand.
"Again," Martin whispers.
James takes another hit. Holds it and breathes the smoke directly into his mouth, and Martin inhales.
This time when James pulls back, Martin follows him slightly, swaying forward.
"How do you feel?" James asks,
"Weird. Warm." Then he smiles, "Hyung. Can you put on a song?"
James raises an eyebrow. "Is this still about what songs people can fuck to?"
Martin nods, completely serious, and James laughs.
"Nah. You'll feel nauseous soon. First time, people always feel bad."
But Martin's not really listening anymore. His eyes have gone unfocused. His hands lift, fingers moving slightly in the air.
"The room's moving," Martin says, voice soft.
"Yeah. That's normal."
Martin sways. Then, without warning, his hands go to the waistband of his pajama pants.
"Excuse you?" James reaches out. "Stripping again? What's with you and-"
"Aren't you hot?" Martin yanks at his pants, gets them halfway down his thighs before giving up and reaching for James instead. His fingers catch in James's shirt, tugging insistently. "You're hot. You must be hot. Take it off."
"Martin-"
Martin's pulling harder now, and he's too close, "I'm so warm. You must be warm too."
James sighs and pulls his shirt over his head just to stop the tugging.
Martin screams, this high, delighted sound that makes James slap a hand over his mouth immediately.
"Shut up, people are sleeping- "
Martin's eyes are huge, locked on James's back as he twists to try to see. "You have a TATTOO? HYUNG. HYUNG. YOU HAVE A-"
"Yes, I know, I was there- "
"IT'S SO COOL." Martin's hands are on him instantly, tracing the lines across his shoulder blade with zero coordination, fingers slipping and dragging. "Oh my god. Oh my god. When did you- how big is it- does it go all the way down-"
"Yes, it goes down- Martin, lie down before you fall over."
"You lie down too." Martin's already moving, pulling James with him, and they end up sprawled on the narrow bed together, facing each other.
"You should've told me." Martin tells him,
"Tattoo?"
"Yes." Martin's words are starting to slur at the edges, "I feel weird, hyung."
"Told you."
"Not bad weird. Just... everything's soft. Can we do the smoke thing again?"
James reaches for the joint, lights it again. Takes a slow pull. Martin's already tilting his face up, lips parting in anticipation.
James does it again. And again. Each time Martin gets closer, until they're pressed together from chest to hip, Martin's hands clutching at James's shoulders.
On the fourth exhale, James doesn't pull away. His lips brush Martin's jaw, and Martin makes this tiny sound.
"Hyung-"
James's mouth moves to Martin's neck.
"Hyung," Martin says again, voice thin.
James presses a kiss there. Another kiss, lower. James's hand comes up to hold Martin's jaw, tilting his head back to expose more skin. His teeth graze skin and Martin is being moved, turned on his back, jaw still held by James.
"You won't remember this anyway," James murmurs against his neck. His tongue traces a line up to Martin's ear. "First time smoking, everything gets hazy. You'll wake up and think it was a dream."
Then James is leaning down, mouth trailing over Martin's collarbone, down to his chest. He finds the spot just above Martin's right nipple and sucks hard.
"Ah- Hyung-"
James doesn't let up. He sucks harder, feeling the skin bruise under his mouth, feeling Martin shake beneath him.
Finally, James thinks, Finally.
He pulls back to look at his work. The mark is already darkening, stark against Martin's pale skin. It'll last days. Maybe a week.
James leans down and does it again, moving lower. then, just below Martin's left nipple. Martin's letting out these broken little sounds that make James want to fuck him senseless-
Another mark, on his ribs, and Martin just takes it, shaking and whimpering and so fucking beautiful that James can barely stand it.
So, this is how Martin looks.