Martin had always been the type to overthink things.
But lately, his brain had been occupied with something far more complicated — or, rather, someone.
Your name had been showing up in his mind at the most inconvenient times: during rehearsals, while he was half-asleep on the couch at the dorm, even while brushing his teeth. It wasn’t just because you were Juhoon older sister, though that already made things risky enough. It was because, to him, you were sunshine disguised as calm — warm but distant, gentle but untouchable.
And now, apparently, you were also heartbroken.
The next day, the Cortis dorm was chaos.
James carried bags of fried chicken. Juhoon was taping a sparkly “Cheer Up!” balloon to his arm. Seonghyeon was yelling something about “mission preparation” while Keonho stuffed snacks into a tote bag like they were going to war.
They called it Operation Heal Noona.
By the time they reached your apartment, the sky had started to drizzle. Martin adjusted the hood of his jacket, pretending he didn’t feel nervous. This wasn’t a big deal. They were just going to check on you, make sure you were okay, maybe eat some fried chicken together.
Easy.
Except, the moment the door didn’t open, all hell broke loose.
“Come on, open the door!” James shouted, already impatient.
“Noonaaa!” Seonghyeon added dramatically, pounding on the door.
When the door finally opened, you stood there in an oversized T-shirt, hair tied up messily, eyes tired from crying. You looked soft and quiet and heartbreakingly human.
But even then, even like this — you were still the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.
“Noona.” He said softly, forcing a grin. “It’s me. Martin.”
You blinked. “Oh. Hi.”
He frowned, feigning offense.
“What? That’s it? Not impressed yet?”
They didn’t wait for an invitation. Within seconds, your quiet apartment transformed into something unrecognizable. Shoes scattered by the entryway, laughter bouncing off the walls, the faint scent of fried chicken mixing with the citrus candle you’d lit hours ago. Someone had already queued up music — the opening notes of an upbeat pop song that felt far too happy for your current mood.
Juhoon tossed a blanket over you like it was a cape.
“There. Armor equipped. No sadness allowed today.”
Keonho took over the TV, Seonghyeon fought him for the remote, and James disappeared into the kitchen to find plates. Chaos moved like a living thing — loud, fast, impossible to resist.
Kenho turned up the music and started dancing.
“Therapeutic movement! Science says it helps!”
James tossed popcorn at him.
“Science says you’re an idiot.”
And in the middle of it, Martin appeared beside you again.
He sat cross-legged on the floor beside you, close but not too close. Every now and then, his knee brushed against yours when the others laughed too hard. And though he joined in the jokes, you could feel his attention flicker toward you every few seconds. But when Juhoon wasn’t looking, he set the drink on the coffee table, right in front of your seat.
“You should eat something." He said softly, his voice barely audible over the laughter. “It helps.”
Hours passed that way, noise and laughter filling the spaces sadness had left behind. Someone spilled soda, and everyone blamed Seonghyeon. You laughed once. a real laugh and when you did, Martin looked over like he’d just witnessed a sunrise.
Later that night, when the lights dimmed and the room was full of soft chatter and half-asleep laughter, he was still sitting nearby, a quiet anchor amid the chaos.
“You’re okay." He murmured when Seonghyeon had finally fallen asleep on the floor. “You just forgot how to be, for a little while.”
And though you didn’t say anything back, he smiled faintly, as if he’d heard the answer anyway.
Outside, the rain had stopped. Inside, the warmth lingered.
For the first time in days, the silence didn’t feel lonely anymore. It felt alive.