Chapter Text
It was nearly midnight when Martin left the studio.
Rain had fallen earlier, leaving the streets glazed in reflections, neon signs bleeding into puddles, headlights smearing gold across wet asphalt.
The city buzzed softly around him. Alive. Too alive for how exhausted he felt.
Martin adjusted the hood over his head and started down the sidewalk with his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, earbuds hanging around his neck unused.
Another recording session finished.
Another love song everyone would call beautiful without realizing it was built from years of rotting grief.
He was tired.
Soul tired.
The kind of tired no amount of sleep fixes.
_Then he saw him.
At first only from a distance.
A figure standing outside a convenience store beneath white fluorescent light.
Long dirty blonde hair.
Oversized hoodie sleeves covering his hands.
Slim shoulders.
Martin slowed unconsciously.
The stranger tilted his head while looking at something on his phone, and soft hair slipped across his cheek.
And there—
a silver star sticker beneath one eye.
Martin stopped walking entirely.
No.
His stomach dropped violently.
No no no.
The boy looked nineteen.
Not older.
Not changed.
Exactly the way James existed in Martin’s memory.
Pretty in that soft impossible way that never looked fully real.
Pink gloss catching under city lights.
Naturally flushed cheeks from the cold.
Sleepy kitty eyes hidden beneath lashes.
Martin’s heartbeat became deafening.
Because grief does horrible things to the human mind.
It creates hallucinations.
False hope.
Cruel projections.
And Martin had loved James long enough to go insane over him.
The boy shifted slightly, tucking hair behind one ear.
The exact same movement.
Martin physically staggered backward a step.
His chest tightened so painfully he genuinely thought for a moment he might collapse right there on the sidewalk.
Impossible.
James was gone.
That was the entire tragedy.
That was the thing Martin built his life around surviving.
Then the boy looked up.
And their eyes met.
Everything inside Martin stopped.
Because those were James’ eyes.
Not similar.
Not close.
James’.
The same softness.
The same devastating gentleness hidden inside them.
The same expression that used to look at Martin like he was something worth loving.
Martin forgot how to breathe.
Across the street, James froze too.
The phone slipped slightly in his hand.
Color drained slowly from his face.
For a second neither moved.
The city noise disappeared entirely around them.
No cars.
No people.
Nothing.
Only shock.
Pure impossible shock.
Martin crossed the street before his brain caught up.
Fast.
Almost stumbling.
His pulse slammed violently against his ribs with every step.
James remained rooted in place like he physically couldn’t run.
And suddenly Martin was standing in front of him.
Close enough to touch.
Close enough to see tiny details that made this terrifyingly real.
The faint scar near James’ chin from university.
The tiny beauty mark on the bridge of his nose. Another one as tiny on his lower lip.
The silver star sticker slightly peeling at the edges.
Real.
Real.
Real.
Martin stared at him like looking too long might make him disappear again.
James looked equally shattered.
His lips parted slightly.
No words came out.
Martin spoke first.
Or tried to.
“...Jamie?”
His voice cracked horribly on the nickname.
James flinched.
Actually flinched.
And that tiny movement destroyed the last bit of denial Martin had left.
Because hallucinations don’t react.
Hallucinations don’t look guilty.
Martin’s expression changed slowly.
Shock giving way to something far more dangerous.
Something trembling.
“You’re alive.”
James swallowed hard.
Martin laughed once.
A broken sound.
“You’re alive.”
People passed behind them on the sidewalk without understanding the world had just split open.
James looked terrified now.
Not of Martin.
Of the situation.
Of this moment finally happening.
“I can explain—”
Martin grabbed his wrist suddenly.
Not rough.
Desperate.
His hand trembled violently around James’ sleeve.
“No.”
James stopped speaking immediately.
Martin stared at him with eyes already shining.
“You let me think you were dead.”
The words came out quiet.
That made them worse.
James looked like he might cry right there under the streetlights.
“I didn’t—”
“You disappeared.”
Martin’s breathing became uneven.
“You left letters.”
“I know.”
“Your parents said—”
“I know.”
Martin laughed again softly.
Disbelieving.
Hurt beyond language.
For years he mourned someone still walking beneath the same sky.
For years he wrote songs to a ghost that had never actually died.
James looked thinner now up close.
Older around the eyes despite still carrying that same nineteen-year-old softness somehow.
Martin noticed immediately.
Because of course he did.
He noticed everything about James.
Always had.
“I got better,” James whispered finally.
The sentence nearly knocked the air from Martin’s lungs.
Better.
He got better.
All those nights.
All that grief.
All those years of waking up choking on love for someone supposedly gone forever—
and James had lived.
Martin’s grip loosened slightly.
Not from calmness.
From shock too overwhelming to process.
“You should’ve told me.”
James looked down instantly.
And Martin suddenly understood something horrible.
James genuinely thought he did the right thing.
“I didn’t want—”
“To hurt us?”
James nodded faintly.
Martin stared at him in disbelief.
“You think this hurt less?”
Silence.
James’ eyes looked glassy now beneath city lights.
“I thought eventually you’d move on.”
Martin actually smiled at that.
Not kindly.
Not happily.
It was the saddest expression James had ever seen on him.
“Move on?”
His voice broke quietly.
“Jamie, I built my entire life around loving you.”
James went still.
Completely still.
Martin continued before he could stop himself now that years of grief had split open inside him.
“Every song.”
James stared at him.
“Every interview.”
Martin’s eyes burned.
“Every fucking thing I’ve done since you disappeared was about you.”
James looked genuinely lost now.
Like the world beneath him had tilted.
Because no.
No, this wasn’t possible.
Martin loved Juhoon.
Martin hated him.
That was the truth James built all his decisions around.
Martin saw the realization happen in real time across James’ face.
And suddenly his anger cracked apart completely.
Because underneath all of this—
James had never known.
He really believed Martin never loved him back.
All these years.
All this pain.
Based on a misunderstanding so cruel it felt fictional.
Martin looked at him like his heart had been torn open publicly.
“You idiot,” he whispered shakily.
James’ eyes filled instantly.
Martin stepped closer before thinking.
His hands moved to James’ face automatically like muscle memory from another lifetime.
Warm skin.
Real.
Actually real.
Martin looked destroyed by it.
“I thought you were dead.”
James finally broke then.
Tears spilled down his cheeks immediately.
“I’m sorry.”
Martin pulled him forward suddenly into his arms.
Hard.
Desperate.
Like he was terrified James would disappear if he loosened his grip even slightly.
James made a small broken sound against his shoulder.
And Martin closed his eyes tightly because after years of mourning him—
James was finally warm again.
James cried quietly against Martin’s shoulder while the city kept moving around them.
Cars passed.
People crossed intersections.
A bus stopped nearby with a hydraulic hiss.
Nobody noticed the two men standing beneath neon lights holding each other like survivors of a shipwreck.
Martin still hadn’t loosened his grip.
Not even slightly.
His arms stayed locked around James so tightly it almost hurt.
As if years of grief had condensed into pure instinct:
_don’t let him disappear again.
James could feel Martin trembling.
Not subtly either.
Actual uncontrollable shaking beneath his coat.
That hurt more than the anger.
Because James suddenly understood the scale of what he’d done.
Not theoretically.
Not abstractly.
Realized.
Martin buried him while he was alive.
Maybe not physically.
But emotionally?
Completely.
Entirely.
And the worst part—
James had believed he was protecting him.
“I’m sorry,” James whispered again weakly.
Martin laughed against his hair.
A horrible sound.
“You keep saying that.”
James pulled back slightly, enough to look at him.
Martin’s eyes were red already.
Not just teary.
Red like someone who’d carried grief for far too long.
“You’re really alive,” Martin said softly.
James nodded faintly.
Martin touched his face again immediately afterward.
Like he couldn’t stop confirming it.
Thumb brushing beneath James’ eye.
Over warm skin.
Over the silver star sticker still stuck there.
Real.
God.
Real.
James’ chest tightened painfully at the look on Martin’s face.
Because no one had ever looked at him like this before.
Not even in fantasies.
This wasn’t obsession.
Wasn’t nostalgia.
Wasn’t longing.
This was years of love with nowhere to go finally crashing into reality all at once.
And James had caused it.
“I didn’t know,” James admitted shakily.
Martin stared at him.
“What?”
“You loved Juhoon.”
Martin blinked once in disbelief.
Then actually looked offended through the devastation.
“Jamie.”
James looked down immediately.
“You did.”
“I thought I did.”
“No,” James whispered. “You loved him.”
Martin grabbed his jaw gently before he could look away further.
“No.”
James finally met his eyes again.
And Martin’s expression softened instantly despite everything.
“That wasn’t love.”
James looked unconvinced.
Martin laughed quietly through lingering tears.
“You think I would’ve spent nine years writing songs about someone I didn’t love?”
James physically froze.
Nine years.
The number hit him differently hearing it aloud.
Nine years of this.
Nine years of Martin grieving him.
Nine years of songs and interviews and lonely nights while James convinced himself leaving was merciful.
Something ugly twisted inside his chest.
Guilt.
Sharp enough to cut.
“I thought…” James swallowed hard. “I thought you hated me.”
Martin stared at him silently for a second.
Then suddenly covered his eyes with one hand and laughed again.
Disbelieving.
Exhausted.
“Of course you did.”
James flinched slightly at the bitterness in his voice.
Martin noticed immediately.
And immediately hated himself for it.
“No,” he said quickly, softer now. “No, baby, not like that.”
Baby.
James’ breath caught instantly.
Martin froze too.
Because the word slipped out naturally.
Like it had lived inside him for years waiting to be spoken aloud.
James looked at him with wide stunned eyes.
Martin’s face crumpled slightly.
“You have no idea what you did to me.”
The honesty in that sentence was terrifying.
James had imagined many versions of reunion over the years.
Most ended with Martin angry.
Cold.
Detached.
Maybe relieved James was gone from his life.
Never this.
Never Martin looking at him like finding him again physically hurt.
“Why didn’t you come back?” Martin asked quietly.
James closed his eyes briefly.
“I got better slowly.”
Martin listened silently.
“At first I didn’t trust it.”
James laughed weakly.
“Every time doctors said my condition improved, I thought it would collapse again.”
His fingers twisted nervously in the sleeves of his hoodie.
“And after a while…”
“You stayed away anyway,” Martin finished.
James nodded faintly.
Shame flooded his expression immediately afterward.
“I thought you moved on.”
Martin just looked at him.
That alone answered everything.
No.
He hadn’t moved on.
Not even close.
James suddenly remembered all those songs playing in cafés and stores and online edits over the years.
Songs he secretly listened to alone at night because they reminded him painfully of Martin.
He never realized.
Never realized they were literally about him.
“You really wrote all those songs about me?” James whispered.
Martin almost looked annoyed by the question.
“Jamie.”
The nickname sounded exhausted now.
Affectionate in a way that made James’ chest ache.
“There are albums about you.”
James stared at him.
Martin continued quietly
“There’s songs about your laugh.”
James’ eyes started watering again immediately.
“Songs about your stupid stickers.”
James actually let out a tiny broken laugh at that.
Martin looked wrecked hearing it.
“There’s one about the way you used to fall asleep in libraries.”
James covered his mouth suddenly.
Overwhelmed.
Because those weren’t grand dramatic memories.
They were tiny ones.
The kind only someone deeply in love would keep.
Martin watched tears slip down James’ cheeks again and his expression softened instantly.
Without thinking, he wiped them away with both hands.
Still impossibly gentle despite the years between them.
“You disappeared,” Martin whispered.
James nodded shakily.
“I know.”
“I looked for you.”
That one shattered James completely.
Because of course he did.
Of course Martin searched.
And James was somewhere else listening to Martin’s music through headphones at night convincing himself he’d made the right decision.
“I went back to your apartment,” Martin admitted quietly.
James inhaled sharply.
“I kept your photo.”
James looked like he physically couldn’t handle hearing this anymore.
“You can stop now.”
Martin frowned slightly. “Stop what?”
“Saying things like that.”
“Why?”
“Because it hurts.”
Martin’s expression changed instantly at that.
Not angry.
Heartbroken.
“Jamie,” he said softly, “it’s supposed to.”
James stared at him.
Martin stepped closer again slowly until their foreheads nearly touched beneath the city lights.
“Do you understand how much I loved you?”
Loved.
Not love.
Present tense hiding underneath anyway.
James’ breathing became uneven again.
Because yes.
He understood now.
Too late.
Far too late.
And somehow despite everything,
despite the guilt and grief and lost years;
some selfish trembling part of James felt unbearably happy.
The person he loved had loved him back all along.
Martin brushed damp hair away from James’ face carefully.
Then suddenly frowned slightly.
“You’re freezing.”
James blinked.
Even now?
Even after all this?
Martin sighed softly at his confusion.
“Come home with me.”
Home.
The word settled strangely between them.
James looked terrified by how badly he wanted to say yes.
For a moment, James just stood there staring at Martin like he didn’t know what to do with him.
Or maybe what to do with himself anymore.
Because everything James built his life around for years had collapsed within the span of twenty minutes.
Martin loved him.
Not briefly.
Not eventually.
Not after James disappeared.
He had loved him for years.
And James suddenly felt sick realizing how much pain could’ve been avoided if he had just stayed.
The guilt of that pressed heavily against his ribs.
But underneath it—
something softer lived too.
Something trembling.
Hope.
And that terrified him more than anything.
Martin noticed the hesitation immediately.
Of course he did.
He always noticed James too carefully.
“You don’t have to decide right now,” Martin said quietly.
James looked up.
Martin’s expression softened instantly at the sight of his face.
God.
Even after everything, Martin still looked at him gently.
James didn’t think he deserved that anymore.
“I just…” Martin swallowed slightly. “I don’t want to lose you again five minutes after finding you.”
That sentence nearly destroyed James where he stood.
Because Martin said it so honestly.
No pride left.
No mask.
Just fear.
Real fear.
And James realized then that Martin had probably spent years imagining this exact nightmare repeatedly — finding James again only for him to disappear immediately afterward.
The thought hurt horribly.
So James nodded once.
Tiny.
But enough.
Martin visibly exhaled.
Not dramatic.
Just subtle relief leaving his body all at once.
“Okay,” he whispered.
Then immediately reached for James’ hand.
Naturally.
Like he’d been doing it forever.
James looked down at their hands almost blankly.
Martin’s fingers were warm.
Slightly rougher than before from years of guitar strings and studio work.
James suddenly remembered holding these same hands under university desks during group projects just to compare ring sizes jokingly.
Back then Martin barely reacted.
Now he held James like letting go would kill him.
The realization made James quiet the entire walk to the car.
—
Martin drove in silence at first.
Not awkward silence.
Overwhelmed silence.
His hands stayed tight around the steering wheel while city lights moved across his face in shifting colors.
James sat beside him still wearing the silver star sticker.
Martin kept glancing at it every few minutes unconsciously.
Eventually James noticed.
“…What?”
Martin looked away from the road briefly.
“You still wear those.”
James touched the sticker automatically.
“Oh.”
His voice softened slightly.
“They make me feel…”
He stopped himself.
Martin waited.
James stared out the window afterward.
“…Like myself.”
Martin’s chest tightened painfully.
Because yes.
That sounded exactly like James.
Tiny soft things mattered to him in devastating ways.
Martin remembered once during university when James got genuinely sad because he lost a tiny moon sticker sheet he liked.
At the time Martin teased him for an hour.
Later that night he bought three replacement packs secretly and left them inside James’ bag.
James found them and smiled the entire next day.
Martin remembered every detail.
Every stupid tiny thing.
“You kept the long hair,” Martin murmured quietly.
James blinked slightly before touching the ends of it.
“You like it?”
The question slipped out unconsciously.
Martin’s grip tightened on the wheel immediately.
“Jamie.”
James flushed softly.
Right.
Of course Martin liked it.
Martin liked everything about him apparently.
That thought still felt impossible.
Martin glanced at him again at a red light.
And suddenly James felt nineteen all over again under that gaze.
Seen too much.
Loved too carefully.
Martin looked away first this time.
Like it physically overwhelmed him to stare too long.
“You’re prettier now,” he admitted quietly.
James’ heart nearly stopped.
Martin said it so sincerely too.
Not flirtatious.
Not smooth.
Just honest.
Like it was a fact he’d been thinking since the second he saw him standing under those convenience store lights.
James laughed softly in embarrassment and looked down at his lap.
“You’re insane.”
“No,” Martin said immediately.
Then after a beat;
“I’ve just missed your face for nine years.”
James went silent again.
Because how was he supposed to survive hearing things like that?
—
Martin’s apartment overlooked the river.
Modern.
Minimalistic.
Far too clean.
James stepped inside slowly while Martin locked the door behind them.
And instantly something strange happened.
James became emotional over the stupidest thing imaginable.
There were traces of him everywhere.
Not obvious ones.
Not creepy ones.
Just…
Pieces.
A framed polaroid on a bookshelf.
One of James’ favorite old novels sitting near the couch.
Tiny silver star stickers stuck absentmindedly on the side of Martin’s record player.
James stared at those the longest.
Martin noticed immediately and looked suddenly awkward.
“I found them online once.”
James looked at him.
Martin rubbed the back of his neck slightly.
“You used to wear them.”
The simplicity of that explanation hurt more than anything dramatic could have.
Because Martin said it like it was obvious.
Of course he bought star stickers.
James liked them.
That alone was enough reason.
James turned away quickly before his expression gave him away.
But Martin already saw it.
Saw the tears gathering again.
He crossed the room instantly.
“Hey.”
James shook his head immediately.
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
That gentle voice again.
That devastating softness.
James laughed weakly.
“This is a lot.”
Martin’s expression cracked slightly at those words.
“A lot” didn’t even begin to describe it.
Nine years of grief suddenly breathing again in his living room.
Nine years of love finally standing close enough to touch.
Martin reached up carefully and tucked James’ hair behind his ear.
The motion felt intimate enough to make James dizzy.
“I need to ask you something,” Martin said quietly.
James nodded faintly.
Martin’s eyes searched his face for a long moment before he finally asked
“Did you ever love me?”
The room went painfully silent afterward.
Because despite everything—
despite the songs and grief and years—
Martin still sounded unsure.
Like some part of him genuinely feared the answer.
James looked at him in disbelief.
Then laughed softly through tears.
“You wrote albums about me and still don’t know?”
Martin stared at him silently.
James’ expression softened completely then.
Gentle.
Broken.
Hopelessly fond.
“I loved you so much it scared me.”
Martin inhaled sharply.
James continued before he could lose courage.
“That’s why staying near you hurt all the time.”
Every word visibly affected Martin.
“You were my favorite person.”
Martin closed his eyes briefly like the confession physically overwhelmed him.
“And you loved Juhoon,” James whispered. “So I thought… maybe this was enough.”
Martin opened his eyes immediately.
“Jamie.”
“No, listen.”
James looked at him carefully.
“I knew you didn’t love me back. So I decided I’d rather have pieces of you than nothing at all.”
Martin actually looked devastated hearing that.
Because James had settled for scraps of affection believing that was the best he could ever receive.
And meanwhile Martin had been falling apart over him already.
“You idiot,” Martin whispered again.
But his voice shook with unbearable tenderness now.
Then suddenly he pulled James against him again.
This time slower.
Intentional.
James melted into him almost immediately from pure instinct.
Martin buried his face against James’ neck and held him quietly in the middle of the apartment.
No rushing.
No desperation now.
Just closeness.
Finally.
Real closeness.
James closed his eyes slowly.
And for the first time in nearly a decade—
he stopped feeling lonely.
The apartment was quiet except for the rain beginning again outside.
Soft against the windows.
Everything inside the room felt strangely suspended in time.
James still stood tucked against Martin’s chest, arms loosely around his waist now like he’d forgotten how not to hold him.
Martin didn’t want to move.
Didn’t want to blink.
Because every few seconds his brain still whispered:
He’s alive.
And every single time, emotion crashed into him all over again.
James tilted his head slightly against Martin’s shoulder.
“You’re quiet.”
Martin laughed softly under his breath.
“You expect me to function right now?”
James smiled.
Martin felt it against his neck.
That tiny thing alone nearly ruined him.
God.
He missed this.
Missed James’ warmth.
Missed the softness of him.
Missed existing near him.
Martin pulled back slowly just enough to look at his face again.
Long blonde hair falling over soft pink cheeks.
The silver star sticker beneath his eye slightly crooked now.
Pretty.
Unfairly pretty.
James noticed the way Martin stared and immediately grew shy under it.
“What?”
Martin shook his head once.
Then quieter
“I can’t believe you’re real.”
James’ expression softened instantly.
That look again.
The one that always made Martin feel like the center of something gentle.
“You’re looking at me like I’ll disappear.”
“I thought you already did.”
James visibly hurt hearing that.
Martin regretted it immediately.
But before he could apologize, James lifted a hand slowly and touched his face.
Careful.
Almost hesitant.
Like he still couldn’t fully believe this either.
Martin leaned into the touch unconsciously.
His eyes closed briefly.
James’ thumb brushed softly beneath his eye.
“You really cried a lot because of me?”
Martin opened his eyes again.
“What kind of question is that?”
James laughed quietly.
“I just…” His voice softened. “I never imagined you loving me like this.”
Martin stared at him for a long moment.
Then said the most honest thing he’d said all night
“I don’t think anyone will ever love you like this.”
James stopped breathing for a second.
Because Martin didn’t say it arrogantly.
He said it sadly.
Like it was something that consumed him too.
The room went quiet again afterward.
Heavy.
Warm.
Dangerously intimate.
James looked down first.
Martin watched his lashes lower, watched the faint flush spreading across his cheeks, watched the nervous way his fingers curled slightly against Martin’s hoodie.
And suddenly Martin realized something almost unbearable:
James still didn’t fully understand what he did to people.
What he did to Martin.
The years of wanting him.
Missing him.
Writing about him.
Dreaming about him.
The endless aching love that never diminished even once.
Martin lifted a hand slowly and brushed his fingers beneath James’ jaw.
James looked up immediately.
Their faces were already close.
Too close.
Martin could feel James breathing now.
Could see the tiny shimmer of pink gloss on his lips.
James’ eyes widened slightly.
Not pulling away.
Just startled.
Martin’s voice dropped almost to a whisper.
“Can I kiss you?”
James made the softest most broken sound Martin had ever heard.
Then nodded immediately.
Like he’d been waiting years to do that.
Martin kissed him carefully at first.
Terrified despite everything.
Terrified this might somehow still be a dream cruel enough to vanish if he moved too fast.
James melted against him instantly.
Warm hands gripping the front of Martin’s hoodie tightly while Martin cupped his face like something precious.
The kiss tasted faintly like strawberry gloss and rain.
And grief.
Years of grief finally unraveling between them.
James kissed him back softly at first, almost shy, then deeper suddenly like emotion overwhelmed him all at once.
Martin made a quiet sound against his mouth and pulled him closer immediately.
God.
God.
This was James.
Alive.
Kissing him.
After years of loving someone he thought he’d never touch again.
Martin’s hands trembled slightly where they rested against James’ waist.
James noticed.
Of course he did.
He pulled back barely enough to whisper breathlessly
“You’re shaking.”
Martin laughed weakly against his lips.
“I think I’m losing my mind.”
James smiled then.
Small.
Beautiful.
Completely adored.
And Martin kissed him again instantly because he physically couldn’t resist anymore.
This one slower.
Needier somehow.
Years of love pouring into it uncontrollably.
James’ fingers slid into Martin’s hair gently while Martin held him impossibly close in the middle of the apartment like he wanted to fuse them together permanently.
Then suddenly—
The apartment door unlocked.
Both of them froze.
Keys jingled.
A grocery bag rustled.
And Keonho walked in mid-sentence.
“Martin I swear if you ate my—”
He stopped.
Completely.
The grocery bag nearly slipped from his hand.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Martin still had one arm wrapped tightly around James’ waist.
James still stood flushed and kiss-swollen beneath apartment lighting with his hand tangled in Martin’s hair.
And Keonho stared at them like he’d just seen a ghost.
Actually no.
Worse.
Because ghosts made more sense than this.
For a solid five seconds nobody moved.
Then Keonho blinked slowly.
Looked at James.
Looked at Martin.
Looked back at James again.
“…What the fuck?”
James immediately hid his face against Martin’s shoulder out of pure panic.
Martin, somehow, looked ready to either laugh or cry again.
Keonho pointed at James shakily.
“No. No wait.”
His voice rose.
“JAMES?”
James made a tiny mortified noise without lifting his head.
Keonho physically stumbled backward against the door.
Martin actually tightened his hold on James protectively like Keonho might steal him away somehow.
Keonho stared at that too.
Then at Martin’s expression.
And suddenly realization hit him like a truck.
Not just that James was alive.
But the way Martin was looking at him.
The way Martin held him.
The softness.
The devastation.
The love.
Keonho slowly lowered the grocery bag onto the floor.
Then rubbed both hands over his face hard.
“I need alcohol immediately.”
“No actually,” Keonho said weakly, still staring at them, “I need a medical team.”
Martin almost laughed.
The sound came out cracked instead.
Because James was still in his arms.
Warm.
Alive.
Real.
Martin genuinely didn’t think he’d stop reacting to that anytime soon.
Meanwhile James looked seconds away from passing out from embarrassment.
His face remained hidden against Martin’s shoulder while one hand still weakly gripped Martin’s hoodie like letting go suddenly felt unsafe.
Keonho pointed at him again.
“You.”
James made the tiniest noise in acknowledgment.
“You’re alive.”
“…Yeah.”
Keonho blinked slowly.
Then again.
“Okay maybe I’m hallucinating because this is actually insane.”
Martin finally spoke, quieter now.
“You’re reacting like I reacted.”
Keonho turned toward him immediately.
“And how exactly did you react?”
Martin looked down at James automatically.
“Badly.”
That answer visibly unsettled Keonho.
Because Martin looked wrecked still.
Not shocked anymore.
Emotionally obliterated.
And James—
God.
James looked like he might start crying again any second.
Keonho suddenly noticed the silver star sticker beneath his eye.
The same kind James used to wear constantly at university.
Something about that detail made reality hit properly.
His expression shifted completely.
“Oh my God,” he whispered.
James finally lifted his face slightly from Martin’s shoulder, eyes red and cheeks flushed.
“Hi.”
Keonho stared at him in complete disbelief.
“You can’t just ‘hi’ me after disappearing for almost a decade.”
James immediately looked guilty again.
Martin’s arm tightened around his waist protectively the second he noticed.
Keonho saw that too.
Saw how instinctive it was.
And honestly?
That might’ve shocked him more than James being alive.
Because Martin held James like breathing depended on it.
Like years of grief had turned into pure attachment.
Keonho exhaled slowly.
“This is insane.”
“No arguments there,” Martin muttered.
James looked down quietly.
The atmosphere shifted immediately.
Guilt again.
Heavy and obvious.
Keonho noticed.
Of course he did.
He’d known James long enough to recognize when sadness swallowed him whole beneath the surface.
And suddenly Keonho remembered all those years ago
—
how James smiled through everything.
How nobody ever really knew what he was feeling until it was too late.
His expression softened a little.
“You really got better?”
James nodded faintly.
“Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
James hesitated.
Martin immediately looked down at him sharply.
“What does mostly mean?”
James visibly regretted speaking.
“It’s under control.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
James sighed quietly.
“Martin…”
“No.”
Martin pulled back slightly just to look at him properly now.
Concern replaced everything else instantly.
“How sick are you still?”
James hated that question.
Not because of Martin.
Because of the look in his eyes while asking it.
Fear.
Pure fear.
The kind that came from already mourning someone once.
“I’m okay now,” James said softly.
Martin stared at him.
Not believing it completely.
And honestly?
James understood why.
Trust was probably impossible after what happened.
Keonho suddenly interrupted before the atmosphere could spiral further.
“Wait.”
Both turned toward him.
“You two kissed?”
James immediately turned red again.
Martin answered without shame
“Yes.”
Keonho blinked once.
Then pointed between them dramatically.
“So the tragic albums weren’t metaphorical?”
Martin looked confused. “Why would they be?”
“Oh my God.”
Keonho actually sat down hard on the nearest chair.
“I listened to those songs after breakups.”
Martin snorted softly despite himself.
James laughed quietly for the first time since entering the apartment.
The sound hit Martin directly in the chest.
He looked at James immediately.
And went still.
Because there it was again.
That exact laugh.
The same one from university.
The same one he spent years trying to recreate in songs.
Martin’s expression softened so visibly that Keonho physically paused mid-thought.
Then groaned dramatically.
“No, absolutely not.”
Martin blinked. “What?”
“That look.”
“What look?”
Keonho pointed accusingly.
“You’re doing the insane love look.”
James looked confused.
“The what?”
Keonho laughed in disbelief.
“Oh you really don’t know.”
Martin immediately looked wary. “Keonho.”
“No, because this is actually ridiculous.”
He turned toward James now.
“Do you know this idiot kept one of your sticky notes for nine years?”
James froze.
Martin closed his eyes briefly like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole.
Keonho continued mercilessly
“He carries your old polaroid everywhere.”
“Keonho.”
“He almost fought a journalist once because they called one of his songs fictional.”
James stared at Martin with widening eyes.
Meanwhile Martin looked genuinely embarrassed for the first time all night.
“You promised not to tell anyone that.”
“You’re right, my bad,” Keonho replied dryly. “I forgot your mysterious tortured musician reputation.”
James’ expression changed slowly while listening.
Not shocked anymore.
Something softer.
Something aching.
Because suddenly he was realizing the scale of Martin’s love from outside perspectives too.
Not just from Martin’s own words.
Everyone knew.
Everyone had known.
Keonho looked back at James then sighed quietly.
“You really messed him up, you know.”
The room went silent.
James looked down immediately.
“I know.”
And God.
That answer hurt.
Not defensive.
Not dismissive.
Just genuinely sad.
Martin immediately touched James’ face again.
“Hey.”
James shook his head faintly.
“No, he’s right.”
Keonho instantly regretted saying it.
But Martin spoke before guilt could settle deeper.
“You messed me up because I loved you.”
James looked at him.
Martin’s thumb brushed softly beneath his eye again automatically.
“That’s not your fault.”
James’ eyes watered immediately.
It was almost frightening how easily Martin still undid him emotionally.
Keonho watched the interaction quietly now.
And honestly?
It felt surreal.
For years Martin loved James like someone haunting a memory.
Untouchable.
Unreachable.
Now James stood in his apartment letting Martin hold his face with both hands like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The universe was strange sometimes.
Then Martin suddenly asked quietly
“Are you hungry?”
James blinked in surprise.
“What?”
“You barely ate, right?”
James looked away immediately.
Keonho burst out laughing.
“Oh my God.”
Martin frowned. “What?”
“You’re already doing it.”
“Doing what?”
“The obsessive caretaker thing.”
Martin looked genuinely confused.
James meanwhile looked devastatingly soft at the question itself.
Because no one had asked him things like that in a very long time.
Not gently.
Not personally.
Martin noticed the expression instantly and his entire demeanor softened further somehow.
“Jamie.”
That nickname again.
So warm.
So loved.
“You need to eat something.”
James laughed weakly.
“You sound married already.”
Keonho made a violent choking noise somewhere in the background while Martin just looked at James quietly for a moment.
Then, very seriously
“I wanted to be.”
Silence crashed through the apartment immediately after Martin said it.
I wanted to be.
No embarrassment.
No taking it back.
Just simple, devastating honesty.
James stared at him like the words physically stunned him.
And honestly?
They did.
Because James had spent nearly a decade convincing himself he was a sad memory in Martin’s life.
A tragic first love maybe.
A wound.
Not this.
Not marriage.
Not permanence.
Martin looked almost surprised by his own confession afterward, like the truth slipped out faster than he could stop it.
But he didn’t retract it.
Didn’t laugh it off.
Instead he just kept looking at James with that same unbearable softness.
Keonho slowly rubbed both hands over his face again.
“Jesus Christ.”
Neither of them even looked at him.
Still completely locked onto each other.
Keonho pointed dramatically between them.
“See, this is why I thought Martin was genuinely going to stay single and miserable for the rest of his life.”
James blinked.
Martin finally looked away briefly. “Can you stop talking?”
“No, absolutely not.”
Keonho stood up from the chair and gestured toward James.
“Do you know how bad it got?”
Martin groaned softly. “Keonho.”
“I’m serious.”
James looked quietly confused now.
Keonho sighed dramatically.
“This man wrote three albums looking like a Victorian widow.”
Martin covered his eyes with one hand.
“And now suddenly you’re alive and standing in his apartment looking like an indie romance movie character.”
James let out a startled laugh.
Keonho pointed at him immediately.
“Exactly that. Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“That cute little laugh. I can literally see Martin falling deeper in love in real time.”
Martin muttered something deeply offended under his breath while James turned pink immediately.
But Keonho wasn’t finished.
“No, because seriously,” he continued, looking genuinely emotional now beneath the humor, “do you understand what this means?”
James looked at him quietly.
Keonho’s voice softened slightly.
“Now Martin is not gonna stay single and alone for the rest of his life.”
The sentence hit the room gently.
But hard enough to leave silence behind afterward.
Because underneath the teasing—
there was truth.
James looked at Martin slowly.
Really looked at him.
And suddenly he noticed things he hadn’t earlier through all the shock.
The exhaustion beneath Martin’s eyes.
The loneliness still clinging to him quietly.
The way his apartment felt lived in but empty somehow.
Like someone surviving instead of fully living.
And James realized something horrible:
Martin really had spent years alone with this love.
Years.
No moving on.
No replacing him.
Just songs and grief and memories.
All because James disappeared believing it would hurt less.
James’ chest tightened painfully.
Martin noticed immediately.
“What?”
James shook his head faintly.
But tears gathered anyway.
Martin’s expression softened instantly.
“Oh no.”
James laughed weakly at that.
“Don’t ‘oh no’ me.”
“You’re crying again.”
“You keep saying insane things.”
Martin stepped closer automatically.
“So do you.”
James looked down for a second before whispering
“I didn’t know.”
And there it was.
The center of everything.
All this tragedy built from things left unsaid.
Martin reached up carefully and tilted James’ face back toward him.
“I know.”
James’ eyes looked impossibly soft now.
Almost fragile.
“You really waited for me?”
Martin stared at him like the answer was obvious.
“Jamie.”
That nickname sounded full of years.
Years of missing him.
Years of talking to ghosts.
“I never stopped loving you long enough for it to count as waiting.”
James actually broke at that.
Not dramatically.
Just tears slipping down silently while he looked at Martin like he didn’t know how to hold this much love safely.
Martin wiped them away immediately.
Still so gentle.
Always so gentle with him now.
Keonho watched quietly from nearby and suddenly felt weirdly emotional himself.
Because this—
this was the ending none of them thought existed anymore.
For years James was treated like a tragedy.
A permanent absence.
Meanwhile Martin turned heartbreak into an entire career because he didn’t know how else to survive it.
And now somehow they stood here together again.
Alive.
Touching.
Looking at each other like lost parts finally returned.
It almost didn’t feel real.
Then James suddenly whispered something so quietly only Martin heard it.
“I wanted that too.”
Martin blinked slightly.
“What?”
James looked embarrassed immediately afterward.
But repeated it anyway.
“…The marriage thing.”
Martin stopped breathing for a second.
Keonho made a violent noise somewhere behind them.
“OH MY GOD.”
James immediately hid his face against Martin’s shoulder again in pure embarrassment.
Martin looked absolutely destroyed by happiness.
Actually destroyed.
Like joy itself physically overwhelmed him.
Keonho pointed accusingly at both of them.
“You two owe me compensation for emotional damage.”
Martin laughed suddenly.
Really laughed.
Openly.
The sound startled all three of them.
Because it had been a long time since laughter left him that easily.
James looked up immediately at the sound.
And then—
God.
That expression on his face.
Like hearing Martin genuinely happy was something precious.
Martin looked down at him and something unbearably tender passed between them silently.
Keonho witnessed it and immediately gagged dramatically.
“No, stop that too.”
James laughed against Martin’s shoulder.
Martin smiled helplessly and tightened his arms around him again automatically.
Possessive now.
Not in a controlling way.
In a terrified way.
Like his body still hadn’t fully processed that James could be held instead of mourned.
James noticed.
Of course he did.
So he wrapped his arms around Martin’s waist properly this time.
Not hesitant anymore.
Not temporary.
And Martin closed his eyes briefly at the feeling.
Home.
That was the horrifying thing.
After all these years—
James still felt exactly like home.
—
Keonho absolutely did not respect privacy.
The second he recovered from the shock enough to function again, he grabbed his phone and sent two messages.
One to Seonghyeon.
One to Juhoon.
Both messages only said:
Jamie is alive.
No explanation.
No warning.
Just chaos.
—
Seonghyeon arrived first.
He’d apparently left in the middle of dinner because he burst through Martin’s apartment door still wearing a long dark coat and looking genuinely out of breath.
“Keonho if this is some kind of sick—”
Then he saw James.
Everything stopped.
James stood near the kitchen wearing one of Martin’s hoodies now because Martin insisted he was cold.
The oversized sleeves swallowed his hands completely.
Long blonde hair messy from rain and exhaustion.
Silver star sticker still beneath one eye.
Alive.
Actually alive.
Seonghyeon stared at him in complete disbelief.
Then:
“…Jamie?”
James smiled softly.
That was all it took.
Seonghyeon crossed the room immediately and hugged him so hard James nearly stumbled backward laughing.
“Oh my God,” Seonghyeon whispered shakily. “Oh my God.”
James hugged him back tightly.
“I missed you too.”
“You disappeared for almost ten years!”
“I know.”
“You idiot.”
His voice cracked on the last word.
James’ expression softened instantly.
Because despite the anger—
that was love.
The kind he abandoned because he thought it would protect them.
Seonghyeon pulled back finally only to grab James’ face between both hands like he needed visual confirmation.
“You’re really here.”
James laughed softly. “I’m starting to realize this is traumatic for everyone.”
“For everyone?” Keonho yelled from the couch. “Martin turned into a tortured musician over you.”
Martin threw a pillow at him immediately.
Seonghyeon looked toward Martin then froze slightly.
Because Martin looked…
different.
Lighter somehow.
Still emotional wreckage underneath, obviously.
But alive in a way Seonghyeon hadn’t seen in years.
Then suddenly the apartment door opened again.
Hard enough to hit the wall.
Everyone turned immediately.
And there stood Juhoon.
Still carrying a travel bag.
Hair messy from the flight.
Eyes already red.
He looked like he’d run through the entire airport.
For a second nobody moved.
Then Juhoon saw James properly.
And completely broke.
His bag dropped onto the floor with a loud thud.
James inhaled sharply.
Because no matter what happened between them—
he loved Juhoon too.
Not romantically.
But deeply enough to hurt.
Juhoon crossed the room so fast it almost looked painful.
Then stopped abruptly in front of James like he didn’t know if touching him was allowed anymore.
His eyes filled instantly.
“You’re alive,” he whispered.
James nodded slowly.
Juhoon laughed once.
A horrible broken sound.
“You’re alive.”
James looked close to crying again immediately.
“Juhoon…”
And suddenly Juhoon hugged him.
Tightly.
Desperately.
Like someone clinging to a miracle before it vanished again.
James held him back automatically.
And Martin watched silently nearby.
Not jealous.
Not angry.
Just understanding.
Because this wasn’t romance.
This was grief finally being undone.
Juhoon buried his face against James’ shoulder and actually sobbed once quietly.
“You idiot,” he whispered shakily. “You absolute idiot.”
James closed his eyes tightly.
“I’m sorry.”
“I thought you died.”
Those words silenced the entire apartment again.
Because yes.
That was the center of all this pain.
James pulled back slightly and looked at Juhoon with obvious guilt.
“I thought it would hurt less if everyone moved on.”
Juhoon looked genuinely offended through tears.
“You really thought I’d move on?”
James looked down immediately.
And Martin suddenly stepped in quietly beside him.
Not interrupting.
Supporting.
His hand settled against James’ lower back instinctively.
Juhoon noticed that immediately.
Everyone did.
The room became quiet for a completely different reason now.
Because suddenly it was obvious.
Not just the history.
The present.
Martin loved him.
Openly.
Completely.
Juhoon stared at them for a second.
Then slowly exhaled.
And surprisingly—
smiled.
Small.
Tired.
Fond.
“Oh,” he murmured softly.
James blinked in confusion.
Juhoon looked at Martin directly now.
“You finally figured it out.”
Martin actually laughed awkwardly for once.
Keonho nearly collapsed dramatically onto the couch.
“This entire friend group is emotionally catastrophic.”
—
Hours passed too quickly afterward.
The apartment filled with overlapping voices and emotions and memories.
Stories.
Arguments.
Tears.
Laughter.
At one point Keonho genuinely started crying because James still remembered his old coffee order.
At another point Seonghyeon yelled for fifteen straight minutes about emotional damages.
Juhoon mostly stayed close to James quietly.
Like he was still reassuring himself this wasn’t temporary.
And James—
God.
James looked happy.
Not performatively happy.
Not the careful bright smile he used to wear while secretly suffering.
Real happy.
Martin noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
He noticed every single expression James made.
Eventually though, exhaustion caught up to him.
Martin saw it first.
The slower blinking.
The way James leaned unconsciously into him more.
The fatigue hidden beneath his smile.
Immediately protective instinct kicked in.
“Okay,” Martin announced suddenly.
Everyone looked over.
“Jamie needs rest.”
Keonho groaned dramatically. “You just want him alone to yourself.”
Martin answered without shame
“Yes.”
James turned pink instantly.
Seonghyeon snorted loudly.
Juhoon actually smiled properly for the first time that night.
“There he is,” he muttered.
Martin ignored all of them and gently touched James’ wrist.
“You’re exhausted.”
James laughed weakly. “A little.”
“A little?” Martin looked offended. “You’ve emotionally resurrected yourself tonight.”
Keonho stood up dramatically. “Fine. We’ll leave your soulmate reunion apartment.”
Martin pointed toward the door immediately.
“Goodnight.”
“You’re evil.”
“Yes.”
James laughed softly into his sleeve while the others slowly gathered their things.
But before leaving, Juhoon paused in front of James again.
For a second both looked emotional all over again.
Then Juhoon hugged him once more.
Gentler this time.
“You better stay alive now,” he whispered.
James smiled sadly.
“I’ll try my best.”
Juhoon looked like he wanted to say more.
Instead he just nodded once and left quietly.
And suddenly the apartment became silent.
Just Martin and James again.
—
The second the door closed, Martin pulled James into his arms immediately.
James laughed softly from surprise.
“You waited exactly two seconds.”
“I’ve waited nine years.”
Fair enough.
Martin buried his face against James’ neck and exhaled shakily.
The silence afterward felt softer now.
Intimate.
Home-like.
Then Martin pulled back slightly.
“Tell me everything.”
James looked at him quietly for a moment.
Then nodded.
So they sat together on the couch beneath dim apartment lighting while rain continued outside.
And James finally explained.
The treatments abroad.
The hospitals.
The fear.
How doctors originally expected only a few more years after nineteen if treatments failed.
How experimental treatment eventually started working slowly.
How recovery felt terrifying because James never trusted it fully.
“I still get treatment now,” James admitted quietly.
“And I need regular surveillance.”
Martin’s expression tightened immediately.
But he stayed silent and listened.
“The hardest part is over though,” James added softly.
“I’m mostly okay now.”
Mostly okay.
Martin held onto that phrase desperately.
James leaned against him while speaking quietly into the dim room.
“I stayed abroad because I thought if I came back… everything would become complicated again.”
Martin looked down at him.
James looked tired now.
Soft and vulnerable in oversized sleeves and messy hair.
“I thought you all healed already.”
Martin laughed quietly at that.
Then touched James’ face gently.
“I would hate you for making me torture like this all these years,” he whispered.
James’ expression immediately fell guilty again.
But then Martin smiled softly.
Small.
Heartbroken.
Hopelessly in love.
“But I love you too much for that.”
James stared at him silently.
Then suddenly kissed him.
Slowly.
Emotionally.
Like years of loneliness finally dissolved between them.
And Martin kissed him back with the tenderness of someone handling returned life itself.
—
The public noticed the change in Martin’s music within months.
Critics called it “rebirth.”
Fans called it “the return of sunlight.”
His lyrics changed completely.
The grief remained — because grief that deep never fully leaves — but now love existed beside it instead of only absence.
Martin sounded happier.
Softer.
Almost dazed with affection.
Like someone who couldn’t believe they were allowed happiness after all.
One song in particular exploded online because of how different it felt.
The chorus went:
I used to write your name like prayer,
like something gone beyond my reach.
but now you’re sleeping in my T-shirts,
leaving star glitter on my sheets.
I thought love meant surviving ghosts,
turns out sometimes they come home.
Fans called it his most romantic song ever written.
Only Martin knew the truth.
It wasn’t imagination.
Because some mornings he really did wake up beside James covered in tiny silver star stickers.
🎀