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Kim Juhoon met Martin Edwards in one of those chance encounters that, looking back, seemed like the work of fate even though, at the time, it hadn’t seemed like anything special at all.
It was the first semester of college, in one of those elective classes nobody picks out of genuine interest, but because it fit the schedule and filled the requirements for the mandatory course load.
Martin arrived late. He had his hair dyed a shade of blond, slightly long and windswept, and was carrying with him the clumsy hurry that was his trademark, since he was always late to every single commitment he had. Looking around with an awkward kind of shyness, he noticed that the only empty seat in the packed room was the one beside Juhoon.
“Is anyone sitting here?” he asked, his voice still a little breathless from running through the hallways, already sitting down and dropping his backpack on the desk before Juhoon could even reply.
No one was.
And so it began, without any ceremony at all, a friendship that Juhoon would take a long time to understand had never really been just friendship — at least not on his side.
Juhoon had already known he was gay long before the day he met Martin.
He was twelve when he realized it when he noticed he was paying more attention than usual to a boy playing basketball on the school court, and that this kind of attention had never existed toward any girl at school.
He told his mother when he was fifteen, in the kitchen at home, while she washed the dishes and he dried them with a conversation so calm and without any weight that he was surprised. He hadn’t imagined it would be received so well. His mother had simply said “okay, sweetheart,” without looking away from the suds, and asked what they should have for dinner that weekend. Maybe she had always known, after all, a mother’s instinct never fails, right?
With his mother’s approval, he felt confident enough to come out to everyone around him. Of course, it wasn’t easy with everyone; there was a childhood friend who quietly drifted away, there were awful homophobic jokes from people he barely knew in the school hallways... but in the end, Juhoon grew up knowing exactly who he was. And he had the support of the people who loved him, which was the only thing that mattered.
The real problem was falling for someone who didn't seem to want him that way.
Martin was the kind of person who was easy to like. He talked too much, laughed easily at any bit of nonsense, and had a clumsy, almost childlike way of starting conversations that worked far better than it should have.
Within a few weeks, the blond presence had become a routine in Juhoon’s life. They always saw each other, sat together in the same row, shared notes from their messy notebooks, offered each other bubblegums, waited for one another after class as the campus emptied out. Juhoon couldn’t say exactly when it stopped being simple company and turned into something else.
He only knew that, at some point during their second semester, Juhoon realized he looked forward to the days he had class with Martin more than anything else.
It was a kind of anticipation that had begun to hurt, because deep down Juhoon knew that, for Martin, it was just the standard script of a good friendship between two guys in college, while for Juhoon, every shared minute turned into a passion trapped inside him, since he had never said a word to Martin about it.
It didn’t seem like the kind of thing a gay man would say to a guy who talked about girls with the same ease he talked about anything else.
It was just an ordinary afternoon in the college cafeteria.
Martin was eagerly talking about a freshman party coming up over the weekend, listing the names of girls who were “definitely” going to show up.
Juhoon didn’t care at all to whatever he was saying.
“So, any of them you got your eye on?” Martin asked, nudging Juhoon’s arm with his elbow.
Juhoon just shrugged, poking at his food with a fork, clearly uninterested.
“I don’t know. None of them, I guess.”
“Seriously? None at all? Dude, you never talk about anyone.” Martin frowned, genuinely curious now. “Like, never.”
Juhoon went quiet for a second, staring down at his plate.
It wasn’t exactly fear at that moment; he’d been through this before, with his mom, with the friends who stayed and the ones who vanished.
But with Martin, it was different.
The possibility of losing him hurt a lot more.
“Because I’m gay, man,” he said bluntly, looking at Martin.
Martin stopped chewing his slice of cake for a split second, not long, just enough for Juhoon to notice.
“Oh.” Martin swallowed. “Cool. Like, that’s seriously cool.”
A brief silence followed.
“Do you have a problem with that?” Juhoon asked, trying to keep his voice light, but paying attention to every millimeter of Martin’s expression.
“No, man, of course not,” Martin replied a little too quickly. Then, as if needing to break the tension with something, he flashed a crooked smile. “I’m an ally, you know? It’s just... now it makes sense why you never hit on that freshman girl from my art class. She was pissed, you know. Thought you found her ugly.”
“You’re such an idiot, damn,” Juhoon laughed, relieved.
“Seriously, seriously,” Martin continued, laughing too. “But don’t worry, it changes nothing. You’re still my best friend, Jju.”
And that was it.
They went back to eating, the conversation drifting off to some other random topic, as if nothing had changed.
Except, beneath the easy joke and the relaxed smile, Martin felt something he couldn’t quite put a name to at that moment, a tiny, almost imperceptible discomfort — not about Juhoon, but about himself — that he pushed deep down.
Martin thought he was straight. Obviously, he was. He wasn’t doubting that.
Of course not…
He just couldn’t explain, later that night, why he kept thinking about Juhoon’s answer for much longer than he should have.
Martin got the chance to go on a summer exchange program in Japan in his second year, thanks to a scholarship he had earned months earlier. The selection process had been fiercely competitive, demanding sleepless nights spent revising projects, letters of recommendation, and exhausting proficiency tests. When the results came out, it felt like he reached the peak of everything he had been planning for his future.
The first months in Tokyo, however, were a blur of packed trains on the Yamanote Line, and Martin’s days were split between intensive university classes and coursework that seemed to drain every last bit of his energy. He was exhausted, running on autopilot, until one mild afternoon, at a coffee shop near the university, he met Iroha Hokazono.
She carried with her a lightness that broke through the monotony of his days, becoming the turning point of the whole trip Martin had taken. From then on, they lived every remaining moment of the exchange program to the fullest.
Iroha took him to hidden corners of the city that weren’t in any tourist guide, and the ease between them made the end of the break feel almost like a mistake when it finally arrived.
But well, he had to go back. And when he returned to Korea, he was... different.
Martin was quieter at times, more animated at others, his phone always was close by, with the screen glowing in the early hours as he waited for a message from the other side of the world.
Juhoon often sat on his own bed, knees drawn up against his chest with the weight of a bad feeling pressing on him while listening to Martin’s voice on the other end of the line. The blond often would tell Juhoon about the culture shock, about the streets of Tokyo, and, above all, about Iroha in such an animated way that Juhoon didn't remember ever seeing before.
“She’s different, you know?” Martin would say. “Like, I talk to her and everything just makes sense. I can’t really explain it.”
Juhoon said he understood.
And maybe he really did, but just from the wrong place.
He knew exactly what it felt like for someone to make that much sense, except the person Martin was talking about wasn’t him.
And Juhoon wanted so badly to be that person for Martin.
When Iroha moved to Korea months later to finish her studies there, the relationship became official with an ease that hurt more than Juhoon expected.
He was introduced to her at a small dinner, just the three of them and one mutual friend. Iroha was shy, but very kind and observant, with a way of paying attention that made anyone feel important for a few minutes, made anyone feel welcomed and respected. Right then, Juhoon understood why Martin had fallen in love for her. And he also understood, with a tightness in his chest he tried to ignore, that there was nothing wrong with her.
The problem, if there even was one, wasn’t Iroha.
A few weeks after that dinner, Iroha texted Juhoon.
“Hey! Martin said you’re also into horror movies. Want to check one out with me while he’s in class? He’s gonna be so jealous he can’t make it, hehe.”
Juhoon almost said no.
It felt too strange, accepting an invitation from the girlfriend of the guy he was secretly in love with. But refusing also felt suspicious, so he went.
They met at a small coffee shop near the college campus.
Iroha arrived, pulling out a notebook filled with scribbles about House, a 1977 cult classic she desperately wanted him to watch someday, convinced he would love its surreal, nightmarish atmosphere. She spoke fast when she was excited, mixing Japanese and Korean without even realizing it, laughing at her own confusion before Juhoon could even join in.
They lost track of time talking about the movie and other things. By the time they realized it, it was too late to actually start it, so they decided to save the screening for another day.
“Martin talks about you a lot, you know,” she said at one point, swirling the straw in her drink. “Like, a whole lot. Sometimes I even get a little jealous.”
Juhoon froze for a second.
“Jealous of what, exactly?”
“Of the history you two have, you know? You two got such a long time of friendship. I only got here recently, and sometimes it feels like I’m trying to step into something that’s been around way longer than I have.” she laughed, a bit awkward, but entirely sincere. “It’s silly of me…”
Juhoon felt a strange knot in his throat.
Not because she was wrong, but… because he felt so terrible for still being in love with Martin, especially now that he could see just how amazing Iroha was.
“No, it’s not silly,” Juhoon replied while choosing his words carefully. “But you don’t have to compete with anything. Martin really likes you.”
Iroha smiled, a small, somewhat tired smile.
“I know. I just wish I could understand what goes on in his head sometimes. He’ll just go quiet out of nowhere, you know? Like, staring into space. And when I ask him what’s wrong, he just says it’s nothing.”
Juhoon didn’t know what to say to that.
He didn’t know what was going on in Martin’s mind either.
They eventually changed the subject, drifting into other random topics.
It wasn’t hard to like Iroha. In fact, it was painfully easy to like her.
“We should do this again, okay? I loved having an afternoon just for us,” Iroha said as they walked back to campus.
And Juhoon said yes, knowing he probably wouldn’t have the courage to repeat it anytime soon.
Fuck.
Such a coward.
Once they made things official, the months settled into a familiar rhythm. Martin and Iroha dating, fighting, and making up, caught in the usual cycle of any couple.
Juhoon was always nearby, always available, always being the perfect friend who listened to everything: the joys, Martin’s doubts, the relationship crises, without ever getting the chance to tell his own version of the story. Without ever being able to say how much he cared for Martin.
Well, he had learned to live with that.
They had coffee sometimes, just the two of them, when Iroha was busy. They shared late-night messages when Martin couldn’t sleep and needed to vent about some silly argument or about his day at college. Those small moments kept inside himself with an almost ridiculous care, knowing that for Martin they meant nothing beyond what they seemed to mean: just friendship, just company.
There was a period, in the middle of college, when Juhoon tried to pull away his feelings about Martin.
He met other people, installed Tinder, went to college parties, went out with other guys, tried to convince himself that the knot in his stomach every time he saw a photo of Martin and Iroha together on Instagram was just a whim, some silly phase from having grown attached to an unreachable straight man.
It was on an ordinary night at a bar near campus that Martin saw Juhoon sitting at a table in the corner, laughing at something a guy Martin had never seen before had just said; probably one of the many guys Juhoon had been seeing lately.
He had only gone to buy cigarettes at the convenience store next door, and Iroha was waiting in the car. It shouldn’t have meant anything, just a two-second glimpse through the bar’s window.
But Martin stood there, watching for too long.
The guy with Juhoon had that easy kind of smile, and his hand was close enough to mean something. Juhoon looked comfortable, relaxed, something Martin hadn’t seen in a while.
A strange, tight feeling rose in Martin’s chest.
It wasn’t quite anger.
It also wasn’t exactly concern for a friend.
Fuck, what?
He couldn’t name it, so he just sat with the silence all the way back to the car.
“You were gone a while,” Iroha commented, not irritated, but just observing. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Martin replied, starting the car. “Don’t worry.”
He stayed quiet for the rest of the drive home, eyes fixed on the road, but his mind kept circling back to the image of Juhoon laughing like that at someone else.
Later that night, already in bed with Iroha asleep beside him, Martin picked up his phone and stared at Juhoon’s contact for a long time, his thumb hovering over the screen without the courage to type anything at all.
He didn’t understand why it hurt so much.
Martin had a girlfriend.
Juhoon had every right to see whoever he wanted.
They weren’t anything beyond best friends.
Best friends don’t feel this, right?
He pushed all his thoughts far away and finally managed to fall asleep, hoping to forget the situation.
Well, it was around that time that Juhoon met Ahn Keonho, a freshman in his program who seemed like everything Juhoon needed to move on. Keonho was genuinely nice, had a great smile and an easy way of striking up conversation, the kind that drew attention without even trying.
On their third date, at the same noisy bar near the college campus, Keonho was telling some story about his family, laughing at his own joke before he had even finished telling it. Juhoon smiled at the right moments, asked the right questions, but his mind kept comparing Keonho…
With him.
“Hey, are you okay?” Keonho asked at some point, head tilted, noticing the distraction. “You seem like you drifted off somewhere else.”
“Sorry. Just had a long week,” Juhoon lied, forcing a smile.
Keonho laughed and just let it go, changing the subject with the ease of someone who had nothing to hide. It was exactly that kind of lightness Juhoon needed to him, like… no one pressuring him, no one pushing, just two people slowly getting to know each other.
It should have been easy to like someone like Keonho.
But at the end of the night, while standing on the sidewalk waiting for the car Keonho had ordered, Juhoon felt his phone buzz in his pocket. It was a message from Martin.
He sent just a screenshot of some meme with no context at all. And the smile that escaped Juhoon’s lips was bigger than the smiles he had with Keonho.
Keonho simply wasn’t Martin.
No one could be.
It didn’t work out.
Martin always came back around, always found a way to pull Juhoon back close, without ever imagining what he was doing. Without ever imagining how much Juhoon loved him.
“Hey, Jju... you disappeared…” Martin complained once, leaning against the library doorframe, half serious, half joking. “I missed you.”
And that was enough.
It was always enough for Juhoon.
It was better to have Martin’s loyal, sincere friendship than to have nothing at all.
In their third year of college, something started to shift, though no one said out loud what it was.
Martin and Iroha argued more. Nothing big or dramatic, just a quiet wearing down, the kind that builds up without anyone noticing until one day it weighs more than it should.
Juhoon’s phone buzzed on the nightstand for the third time that week, close to midnight. He already knew who was calling him even before looking at the screen. He answered lying in the dark, with the blue light illuminating the ceiling of his room.
“Still up?” Martin’s voice on the other end, quieter than usual, without his usual enthusiasm.
“Hmm… yeah,” Juhoon answered, sitting up in bed, with a worry tightening his chest before Martin even said anything else. “Did you fight with her again, huh?”
Martin took a while to answer.
Juhoon could hear his breathing on the other end of the line, heavy, as if he were choosing his words carefully.
“Sometimes I think we’re together just because that's how it's been for so long,” Martin finally said, his voice more tired than usual. “I don’t know if this is real love or just habit. It feels like I just went along with what everyone expected me to do.”
Juhoon stayed silent for a second too long, pressing the phone harder against his ear.
There were a million things he wanted to say.
And none of them were about Iroha.
But the fear of feeding false hope won (like it always did), and he simply helped his friend the way he always did.
“You don’t owe anyone anything, Martin. Not even what people expect of you,” Juhoon said, quietly, choosing every word like someone walking on thin ice.
On the other end of the line, Martin went quiet. When he spoke again, his voice came out almost as a whisper.
“Yeah, I know,” Martin said, without any conviction at all. “Thanks. Good night, Jju.”
The call dropped before Juhoon could answer.
Why couldn’t he say how much he loved Martin?
One day, at a classmate’s birthday party, Juhoon had drunk way more than he should have.
Not enough to completely lose his grip, but just enough to leave him acting a bit out of character.
Martin was across the room, laughing loudly at something someone said, his arm draped casually over Iroha’s shoulders. They were glued together, the way they always were in public.
Juhoon stared at them for too long, the ache in his chest turning sharper with every passing second.
“Hey, you good?” Martin appeared at his side out of nowhere.
Iroha was gone; off to talk to a friend in the kitchen.
“You’ve been nowhere to be found all night,” Martin said as he held two cups, extending one toward Juhoon.
“Just tired,” Juhoon lied, taking the cup but having no real intention of drinking it.
Martin leaned against the wall next to him, his shoulder brushing Juhoon’s as he stared out into the same empty space Juhoon was looking at.
“You’ve been weird lately,” Martin said. “Like... quieter than usual. Did something happen?”
And right there, for a split second, just one agonizing second, Juhoon almost broke.
Fuck.
It’s you, Martin.
You happened.
“Nothing,” he said instead, forcing a faint, hollow smile. “Just a phase. Too much studying, not enough sleep.”
Martin didn’t seem to buy it.
The blond looked at him, his gaze lingering far too long, searching Juhoon’s face with an intensity that crossed the line of casual curiosity.
But then Iroha was back, tugging at both of them to come join the dance floor, and they followed her.
Juhoon spent the rest of the night acting like nothing happened.
On the long, quiet walk home, alone in the dark, he typed out a text he knew he’d never send.
He wrote it, stared at it, and deleted it three separate times before finally shoving his phone into his pocket and walking faster into the cold night.
Juhoon would definitely never say to Martin that he liked him.
At all.
.
It was a random Tuesday in winter, and for no special reason, Martin showed up at Juhoon’s apartment door unannounced.
That day, the sky was that heavy lead-gray color, and the wind was slamming hard against the windows.
The night before, he and Iroha had fought; not about anything big, at least not on the surface.
She’d simply asked, out of nowhere, while they were getting ready for bed.
“Do you ever miss being just you and Juhoon? Like, before I moved here?”
Martin had frozen for a second too long before answering.
That pause alone had said more than any answer could have.
“Hmm, okay then. I think I have my answer,” she said.
Iroha hadn’t pushed it further. She just turned off the lamp and went quiet, and the silence between them had felt heavier than any argument.
He didn’t sleep much that night, replaying the question over and over, unable to explain even to himself why it had rattled him so badly.
The next day, Martin was so utterly exhausted by everything going on with Iroha, and aching so badly for the effortless way things used to be with Juhoon, that he just showed up out of nowhere at the dark-haired boy’s apartment.
“Hey. Let’s go to the beach,” Martin said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets.
“Huh, beach? It’s cold as fuck out there.”
“Exactly. It’ll be empty.”
“No, Martin. Stop being crazy.”
“Only today!” Martin said.
Juhoon didn’t ask about Iroha, whether things were okay between them, whether they’d fought again, or whether she’d be joining them.
He didn’t ask why Martin was there, alone, on some random weekday, with those strange anxious eyes of someone who needed to get away from somewhere without quite knowing where.
Juhoon simply grabbed the first coat he saw and went with him.
Before anything else, they stopped at a small diner near the bus stop, which was one of those places with an old coffee machine that made more noise than it should. Martin ordered two coffees without even asking what Juhoon wanted.
He knew that Juhoon liked black coffee with sugar, even after all this time.
They walked to the bus stop while drinking their coffee. When they got on, the bus was nearly empty, with just the two of them and a bored driver, crossing gray streets and quiet neighborhoods, going about his daily work route.
Juhoon looked through the window at Martin’s reflection sitting beside him, holding a cup of coffee in his hand.
It was something he wanted to keep in his memory.
After a while, they got off at some stop near the beach, and they could hear the distant, violent sound of the sea crashing against the dark sand of that beach.
The cold wind hit them at the moment their feet touched the pavement, but neither of them made a single move to turn back.
At that moment, it felt like they had finally shed some weight or responsibility of their normal days and were simply enjoying a good day together, something they hadn’t done in a long time.
Not since Martin started dating Iroha.
The beach, in winter, seemed to belong only to them. Cold sand, biting wind, the kind of scenery anyone else would avoid, but that in that moment felt really good and comfortable.
They walked slowly, with no destination, as if the whole day had been set aside just for that, for nothing but that, while the footprints they left behind were quickly erased by the pull of the tide.
Martin at that moment was different from how Juhoon had gotten used to seeing him these past months.
He was talking without Iroha’s name hanging over every sentence and without that constant need for validation that usually came with any conversation about his relationship. It was just… him.
Martin was kinda quiet, looking at the sea with an expression Juhoon couldn’t decipher right away.
They talked about small things at first like college, a movie they’d seen, new artists they’d been listening to, silly memories from the early days of their friendship.
Between one topic and another, the silence that settled in was no longer uncomfortable the way it had been these past few months. It had been so long since they'd been like this, so unguarded, free, and close, like good...
Friends.
They kept walking for a while, talking and having fun, forgetting for a few hours all the weight that surrounded them back in the city.
At some point in the afternoon, as the sun began to set and the cold became harder to ignore, they sat down on the sand, close enough to feel the icy water lapping at their feet.
“Tell me something you’ve never told anyone,” Juhoon said, with his voice coming out almost as a whisper against the sound of the waves.
He wasn’t quite sure why he’d ask this.
Fuck.
Martin stayed silent, staring at the horizon long enough for Juhoon to regret it, thinking he’d asked for too much.
“I don’t know if I really love Iroha the way I should…” he finally said, his voice low, almost lost in the wind. “Sometimes I feel like I’m with her because that’s just how things are supposed to be. Because it’s the expected path. I never stopped to think about whether it was what I actually wanted.”
Juhoon didn’t answer.
In that moment, the sea existed, crashing without ever stopping.
“And today, here with you…” Martin went on, not looking at him directly and his fingertips were tracing nervous circles in the cold sand. “I understood something that had been slipping away from me for a while now.”
“What?”
Martin finally looked at Juhoon, with his brown eyes slightly damp from the cold wind and showing a vulnerability he’d never let himself show before.
“That maybe I never really loved any woman the way I should have,” Martin stopped, shook his head, as if correcting himself. “No, that’s not quite true. I did love some of them. What I had with Iroha wasn’t a lie. It just was never the whole story, and I spent all these time pretending it was, because it was easier than admitting the rest. I think...”
Martin got really nervous, but he continued.
“I think I’m bi, Juhoon.”
“Wait. What?” Juhoon said, shocked.
“Yeah. And I think it took me so long to admit that to myself that I almost missed the most obvious thing in my life.”
“Which thing?”
Martin finally looked at Juhoon, with no walls left between them and no fear of being seen.
“You.”
Oh.
Fuck.
“I think it was always you,” Martin continued. “Since that first day in college, when I sat next to you just because I was late, all the way to the late-night calls we used to have almost every day. I loved you so much as a friend that I used it as an excuse not to notice that, really, I was just completely in love with you. I care about Iroha, Juhoon... but I love you. Really.”
Juhoon had no reaction at all.
He never would have imagined hearing this from Martin.
He tried to process the words he’d just heard, but they felt too heavy and unreal for the scenario he’d built for himself.
For a long time, Juhoon’s problem had been loving someone unreachable, but... that person wasn’t that unreachable as he’d thought.
Martin stayed there, waiting and his breath was coming short in that cold sea air.
Juhoon remained completely frozen by the shock, unable to take a single step toward the happy ending he’d always wanted, afraid that if he made any wrong move, he’d ruin everything.
Martin waited for some sign, any sign, but Juhoon’s frozen expression and the long silence seemed to speak louder than any spoken rejection could.
The courage Martin had gathered to break through his own denial evaporated in the face of that lack of response from Juhoon.
“Sorry it took me so long to say it. I just thought you needed to know,” Martin said with his voice suddenly being quieter, and he was swallowing hard as he looked away toward his own wet feet. “Should we head back? It’s getting late.”
Martin hurriedly straightened his coat, trying to hide his embarrassment while Juhoon simply nodded, without having answered any part of what Martin had just confessed.
Fuck.
"I’m an idiot!" was the only thought left echoing on a loop in Juhoon’s mind.
Sitting side by side on the bus back into the city, in silence, Juhoon took Martin’s hand.
Without rushing or hesitating, as if it were the most natural gesture in the world.
"I love you too, Martin,” Juhoon said shyly.
Martin just smiled warmly.
And they stayed hand in hand for the rest of the ride.
When they got off the bus, night had already swallowed the city, and the winter cold felt even sharper.
They walked a few steps in silence along the empty sidewalk of the street, until Martin suddenly stopped, gripping Juhoon’s arm firmly.
“Jju... do you want to come to my place?” Martin asked with a voice lower and with his eyes dropping briefly to Juhoon’s full lips before returning to his eyes.
Juhoon didn’t know if it was an invitation to talk, to have some coffee, or…
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“What about... Iroha?” he asked nervously.
Martin stepped forward, closing the distance between them until Juhoon could feel the warmth of his breath against the cold on his face.
“Forget her. Only today.” Martin answered, his voice got a little rough while his fingers were sliding along Juhoon’s arm until they wrapped around his hand.
Juhoon looked down at their intertwined fingers. He knew that accepting an “only today” like that was dangerous, but the passion built up over years and the intense way Martin was looking at him were too much to hold back.
He simply nodded, squeezing Martin’s hand back, knowing that, whatever happened, that night would change everything between them forever.
The walk to Martin’s apartment happened in a silence completely different from before.
It was no longer the emptiness of regret, but a silent countdown, where Martin’s urgency showed itself in the firm grip of his fingers laced through Juhoon’s. They walked along the cold sidewalks, and Juhoon could hear his own quickened breathing, mixed with the sound of distant cars on the street.
Martin didn’t let go of his hand for even a second, not even to grab his keys from his pocket when they finally crossed into the building’s lobby and stepped into the elevator.
When the doors opened on his floor, Martin led him down the hallway to his apartment door. The click of the lock opening felt like the final signal for the outside world to disappear.
Once inside, the blond locked the door behind them and rested his forehead against the wood for a brief second, letting out a trembling sigh, before turning to face Juhoon. The light from the hallway slipping through the gap under the door was the only illumination in the dark room, tracing the outlines of their bodies in the living room of Martin’s apartment.
Martin stepped forward, moving slowly toward Juhoon. His hands, still cold from the wind outside, rose trembling to Juhoon’s face, thumbs brushing his cheeks with a gentleness that disarmed whatever defenses Juhoon still had left.
“I thought you were going to send me away on the beach,” Martin whispered and his voice got thick with emotion while his eyes were fixed on Juhoon’s face. “I was so scared I’d lost you for being a coward.”
Juhoon felt his eyes well up, his heart pounding so hard against his chest it seemed audible in the silent apartment.
“You’re an idiot, Martin,” Juhoon answered, his voice faltering slightly, but with no real anger left in him. “A complete idiot for taking so long to say it to me.”
A faint, relieved smile appeared on Martin’s lips before he finally closed the last of the distance between them.
Their first kiss was a soft and slow meeting of lips, carrying the weight of so much silence and buried feeling.
Martin gradually deepened the kiss, hands sliding down to Juhoon’s neck, pulling him closer as their tongues met in a calm, intimate rhythm.
The touch was tender, full of affection, but the electricity between them soon began to demand something more urgent.
Martin carefully started pulling off Juhoon’s coat with his fingers trembling from nerves, pushing the fabric away until it dropped to the living room floor. Juhoon copied the gesture, freeing Martin of his own coat, until both of them were left in just their light clothes underneath, feeling their skin warm at the contrast.
Between kisses, Martin let out small sighs against Juhoon’s mouth, trailing his lips down to scatter damp little kisses along his jaw and down the curve of his neck, which made Juhoon gasp sharply, digging his fingers into Martin’s broad shoulders.
“I want you, Juhoon. Not only today... forget what I said outside. I want you for real...” Martin murmured against Juhoon’s skin while his warm breath was sending shivers through Juhoon’s whole body.
Martin guided him, without breaking any physical contact, toward his bedroom at the end of the hall.
But even with his body burning from the touch and his heart racing in his chest, the mention of the future and the word “real” hit Juhoon’s mind like a bucket of cold water.
The fear of waking up the next day in an empty room, watching Martin go back to the safe routine of his straight relationship, was bigger than any desire inside him.
Juhoon gripped Martin’s shoulders more firmly, stopping his steps in the middle of the dark hallway. He pulled his face back slightly, forcing Martin to meet his eyes in the dim light.
“What about Iroha, Martin?” Juhoon said, his voice coming out steadier this time, though still a little shaky.
Juhoon needed to know whether Martin was just running from a fight with his girlfriend and using him as an anesthetic, or if he really loved him the way Juhoon had loved him this whole time.
Martin stopped.
His chest rose and fell with quickened breathing, and for a second, the mention of his girlfriend’s name brought the full weight of the real world crashing back into that dark hallway.
He looked at Juhoon, catching the genuine fear and vulnerability in the darker-haired boy’s eyes, and understood that he could no longer hide behind easy answers or momentary excuses.
Kim Juhoon didn’t deserve to be a secret, or a one-night impulse.
Martin let out a long sigh, his shoulders dropping slightly, but without letting go of Juhoon’s waist. He took a step even closer, pressing their foreheads together in the dim light.
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow, Juhoon,” Martin answered, his voice very low, but steady, without wavering. “I’m going to end it. I’ve been putting it off out of fear for a while now. But when we were at the beach, I realized my biggest mistake wasn’t lying to her... it was lying to myself. And I'm not going to do that anymore. I don't want this for my life. I want you.”
Juhoon felt the last knot of insecurity in his stomach finally come undone, leaving only a warm relief and the certainty that the happy ending he’d waited so long for was right there.
Juhoon was afraid of the cheating... but... only today.
Only today, he decided, he would silence his own conscience and the weight of the world outside.
The desire that had built up over years, and the desperate need to feel Martin’s warmth, outweighed any guilt that might come the next day.
Without saying anything else, Juhoon closed the little distance left between them and pulled Martin in by the neck, sealing their lips in a kiss.
The kiss gained a deeper and more urgent rhythm. Martin slowly pushed him against the hallway wall, hands moving up into the hair at the nape of Juhoon’s neck, pulling him closer as if trying to fuse their bodies together right there. Juhoon let out a low moan against Martin’s mouth, wrapping his hands around his waist in a hungry reflex, feeling the firm heat of the other pressed against him.
Without breaking the kiss, Martin carried him the last few steps to the bedroom, the two of them falling together onto the double bed amid rumpled sheets. The soft impact was followed by the sound of their heavy breathing echoing through the silent room.
Martin braced himself over Juhoon, eyes shining in the dim light as they traveled down his body while his fingers were trembling as they pulled at the hem of Juhoon’s shirt.
Juhoon cooperated, lifting his arms to help slip out of it, revealing a soft pale skin that shivered instantly at the touch of Martin’s hands.
There was an almost adorable care in the way Martin touched him; as if Juhoon were the most precious thing he’d ever held.
Martin trailed his lips down Juhoon’s chin, leaving a path of warm, damp kisses down his neck and down to his collarbone, where he bit gently at the skin, pulling a breathless gasp out of Juhoon.
“You’re so beautiful, Juhoon...” Martin whispered against his skin, with his voice rough and full of genuine admiration that made Juhoon’s heart skip.
Martin brought one of his hands up to lace his fingers with Juhoon’s against the mattress, holding his gaze as he shrugged out of his own shirt.
“Martin... I...” Juhoon murmured between kisses, his voice faltering as he tried to hold onto Martin’s shoulders. He looked away for a second, his cheeks burning a red the dim light could barely hide.
Juhoon was embarrassed to admit it was his first time.
As much as he'd spent years wanting exactly this moment, the reality of being there, completely vulnerable under the intense gaze of the man he loved, made a sudden shyness lock up his throat.
He was afraid of not knowing what to do, fearing his inexperience would break the magic of a night that felt like a dream.
Martin, noticing the hesitation and the subtle tremor in Juhoon’s hands, stopped moving right away. He didn't push; instead, he propped his weight up on his elbows and used one hand to stroke Juhoon’s face with extreme gentleness, which made Juhoon look back at him.
“Hey... it’s okay. Look at me,” Martin whispered, his voice overflowing with a tenderness so pure it disarmed Juhoon instantly. “You don’t have to be embarrassed about anything with me, okay?”
Fuck.
“It’s my first time,” Juhoon finally confessed with his voice coming out in an almost inaudible breath as his face was burning while he hid his eyes behind his forearm.
Martin gave a faint smile. A goofy, genuinely sweet smile.
He got touched by the trust Juhoon was placing in him.
The blond didn’t try to rush anything. Instead, Martin lay down on his side on the mattress, pulling Juhoon along with him so they were facing each other, nestled among the rumpled sheets.
He gently pulled Juhoon’s arm away from his face, holding his wrist with care before pressing a slow sweet kiss to the tip of his nose, then to each of his flushed cheeks, moving down along his jawline.
“Look at me, Jju...” Martin said, in a tender whisper against his warm skin.
Their legs tangled together beneath the covers, and Martin began tracing slow paths with his fingers along Juhoon’s bare back, drawing him even closer, chests pressed together until Juhoon could feel every quickened beat of his heart.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to be exactly like this with you.”
Juhoon buried his face in the curve of Martin’s neck, breathing in his scent deeply, feeling the knots of tension in his shoulders start to give way under the blond’s touch.
They stayed wrapped up like that for long minutes, trading slow caresses, muffled laughter against each other’s skin, and lazy kisses that melted away whatever shyness remained.
It was only when Juhoon let out a relaxed sigh, tightening his arms around Martin’s neck that he pulled back just slightly, stroking Juhoon’s waist with his thumb.
“Thank you for telling me,” Martin whispered, his chest pressed to his, letting the warmth of their bodies fill the space between them. “I’ll go slow, okay? I promise.”
Juhoon just nodded and his hands were holding onto Martin’s shoulders as he felt the gentle weight of him settle better between his legs.
With an atmosphere of complete safety established and Juhoon fully given over to it, Martin reached over to the nightstand to get what they needed, moving with calculated calm to not break the trust they had built.
When he turned his attention back to Juhoon, Martin reached over to the nightstand for the lube. The sound of the viscous liquid between Martin’s fingers made Juhoon’s stomach flip completely with pure nerves.
Martin positioned himself between his legs and pressed his slicked fingers to Juhoon’s tight entrance.
At the first touch, Juhoon’s whole body tensed immediately, letting out a sharp gasp and squeezing his eyes shut as he felt the cool pressure of Martin’s finger pushing into him.
“Relax, Jju... breathe with me,” Martin said softly, bringing his mouth close to his ear, leaving little kisses there as he slowly worked his finger in to the last knuckle, testing the tightness.
Martin began moving his finger in and out with a steady rhythm, helping Juhoon’s muscles give way.
The sound of the lube against skin began to echo through the quiet room. Juhoon dug his nails into Martin’s shoulders, letting out breathless moans as the discomfort turned into a thick, aroused heat rising through his belly.
When Martin pushed in a second finger and opened up more space inside him, Juhoon arched his hips up slightly, chasing the touch without even realizing it.
He slowly withdrew his fingers, leaving Juhoon’s entrance glistening and visibly open, ready for the next step.
It was then that Martin positioned himself. Juhoon looked down for a brief second and felt his heart skip a beat: Martin’s cock was lightly tanned, thick, and incredibly large.
A sudden surge of anticipation mixed with a faint wave of panic flashed through Juhoon’s mind, making him swallow hard as he wondered if it wouldn’t just tear him completely apart.
Martin held Juhoon’s hands, lacing their fingers together firmly against the mattress to keep him steady.
“Look at me,” Martin said, with his eyes fixed on his face as he lined himself up at Juhoon’s entrance and began pushing in, slowly, inch by inch.
Juhoon let out a sharp, torn moan, his chest rising and falling hard as he felt the thick, hot weight of Martin breach him, filling him completely all at once.
He squeezed Martin’s fingers with all his strength, a single tear of pure intensity slipping down the corner of his eye.
Martin stopped immediately, buried to the hilt inside him, waiting for his body to adjust to the size. He leaned down to kiss away the damp trail on Juhoon’s cheek.
“You okay?” Martin asked.
“Yeah...” Juhoon murmured, while his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to control the way his body clenched around Martin.
“Wait a second, Jju. Don’t move. Breathe deep with me,” Martin instructed softly, resting his forehead against his.
They waited.
It was long seconds of aching, thrilling stillness in the dim light.
Martin stayed buried to the hilt, feeling Juhoon’s inner heat swallow him whole, while he used his thumbs to stroke their laced fingers, trying to coax Juhoon’s muscles into relaxing around him.
Juhoon pulled the air in sharply through his nose and let it out through his mouth, feeling that overwhelming pressure stretch him open from within.
Slowly, the discomfort of a first time began to fade, giving way to a pulsing, deeply pleasurable burn that made Juhoon let out a more relaxed sigh.
Juhoon opened his eyes, relaxed his shoulders and gave a slight roll of his hips to test the weight of Martin’s cock inside him.
“Don’t stop... move…” Juhoon said as he was pulling Martin down by the neck.
When Martin finally started moving again, pulling almost all the way out before pushing back in, the rhythm gradually deepened.
Every time he thrust forward, the delicious pressure made Juhoon gasp loudly, throwing his head back, feeling the heat drag along the deepest walls of his body.
Martin found the right spot inside him, driving straight against his prostate, and the sharp moan that escaped Juhoon’s full and delicious lips was enough to make Martin’s self-control crumble entirely.
The movement in the room turned into a rough, wet rhythm. The sharp, slapping sound of Martin’s hips meeting Juhoon filled the room, mixed with the rustle of the sheets and the slick sound of lubricant between their bodies.
Martin began thrusting faster, matching the deep strokes with deep kisses that swallowed Juhoon’s moans, trading breath and saliva.
Juhoon felt completely wrecked and full, floating in the sheer physical pleasure of having the man he had secretly loved for years sinking into him with such need.
“Martin... faster... please...” Juhoon begged, dragging his nails down his back, feeling his own hard, untouched cock rub against Martin’s stomach with every thrust, throbbing, on the edge.
Martin picked up the pace, eyes fixed on Juhoon’s face as he writhed in pleasure beneath him, completely lost in it.
The thrusts turned into quick, rough strokes, pulling broken cries and loud moans from both of them.
Juhoon felt his head spin and, with one final, perfectly aimed thrust that tore a long moan out of him against Martin’s neck, he came hard over his own chest, without even touching himself, his whole body shuddering through the orgasm.
The clenching of Juhoon’s release around Martin acted as an unstoppable trigger to him.
Martin let out a ragged gasp, his hips locking for a second before he began thrusting again with a blind, desperate need, completely lost to the pleasure.
“Jju… fuck, I'm gonna come, fuck,” Martin groaned against his ear, his voice completely rough, driving his thrusts harder as he felt his own release building, about to break.
Juhoon, still trembling from his own high, threw his head back against the pillow. Hearing that from Martin filled him with a possessive, visceral need to keep every last bit of that moment for himself.
“Come... Martin, please, come inside me,” Juhoon begged, his voice breaking, legs wrapping tighter around Martin’s tiny waist, pulling his hips flush against his own, leaving no room to pull back.
Martin didn’t hesitate.
With one last, deep, decisive thrust that buried him to the absolute limit inside Juhoon, he let out a loud, ragged groan against the mattress.
Martin’s body went rigid before he began spilling in hot, thick pulses deep inside Juhoon, pulsing intensely as he emptied himself completely.
The blond collapsed exhausted, leaving the room filled with nothing but the sound of both their heavy breathing and the warmth of his semen slowly trickling between Juhoon’s soft thighs.
Martin stayed lying over Juhoon for several minutes. Their breathing, once short and uneven, gradually steadied, becoming long sighs against the curve of Juhoon’s neck. Their skin clung together with sweat, and the lingering warmth Martin had left inside Juhoon gave them both a sense of fullness that went far beyond the physical.
Slowly, Martin braced his hands on either side of Juhoon’s head and lifted himself up a little, slipping out of him with a smooth motion. Juhoon let out a small whimper at the loss of warmth, instinctively closing his legs as he felt the warm release begin to trickle slowly down his thighs, staining the sheets.
Martin looked down, his tired eyes shining with an affection so deep it made Juhoon’s stomach turn. He didn’t look regretful; he looked relieved, as if a weight he had carried for years had finally been lifted off his shoulders.
“You okay?” Martin asked while his hand was rising to brush the sweaty strands of hair off Juhoon’s forehead.
Juhoon just nodded, breathing out slowly.
“I’m... just tired,” Juhoon answered, his voice faint.
Martin gave Juhoon a sweet smile and reached over to grab the heavy comforter that had ended up bunched at the foot of the bed, covering their bare bodies to shield them from the winter cold pressing against the window. Then Martin lay on his side, pulling Juhoon close until his back was pressed against his chest, wrapping an arm firmly around his tiny waist.
Juhoon settled into the curve of him, holding onto the hand Martin had resting flat against his stomach.
Tomorrow would be a day for sorting things out.
To both of them.
For a while, neither of them said anything at all.
The room was quiet except for their breathing slowing into the same rhythm, and the faint sound of wind still pressing against the windows outside.
Juhoon turned his head slightly, just enough to look back at Martin over his shoulder. Martin was already looking at him, something soft and unguarded still lingering in his tired eyes, like he hadn’t quite finished memorizing Juhoon’s face yet.
“Hey,” Juhoon whispered, barely audible.
“Hey,” Martin whispered back, pressing a small kiss to the back of his shoulder, right where his neck met skin.
Neither of them said anything else.
They didn’t need to.
Whatever was coming tomorrow could stay outside that room for a little longer.
Tomorrow Martin would face Iroha, the weight of betrayal, and all the complications of the real world knocking at the door.
But, only today...
Just for that one night, Juhoon let himself close his eyes and simply feel the warmth of Martin’s body still inside him, finally falling asleep in the arms of the man he had always loved.