— EDWARDS MARTIN, HEART IS YOURS, DESPITE THE BLUES.
CHAPTER 6!
TAGS : idol!martin x nonidol!reader | ennemies to bestfriends to lovers | slowburn | pure angst | lots of humor! | reader is bsf with Cortis! | fluff | kissing, cuddling, crying in each others arms! | DOWNBAD!Martin!
IN WHICH... Blackmailing a K-pop idol was never part of the plan. Neither was spending weeks hanging around his studio, arguing over sneakers, or accidentally becoming friends with his members. It was supposed to be simple: keep his secret, admire his sneaker collection, steal a tiny comeback spoiler, and leave.
Alas, Y/N finds herself caught between Martin and the secrets he refuses to share. As their friendship deepens, so do the cracks beneath the surface- late-night arguments, quieter confessions, and feelings that absolutely weren't part of the deal progressively mish-mash their bond. They might definitely just be in way over their heads...
— Y’all enemy arc is almost over 🧘🏼♀️🧘🏼♀️🧘🏼♀️ they’re finally gonna stop dissing each other every time my girl Y/N speaks lol
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“What? NOOO! Where are our shoes?!” James muttered convincingly.
“I could SWEAR we had put them here!!!” Keonho complained at his turn.
“No but really, someone has GOT to have stolen them in the studio…”
“Yes…. We’d put them in the studio…”
“What are y’all even talking about?” Martin questioned, confused. “The only shoes there ever have been here are the HYBE slippers, and I’m the only one wearing them.”
“LOL.” Seonghyeon imitated the laughing out loud expression with his fingers. “Because you dress like a grandpa.”
“They’re very comfy!” He smiled contently, just like a toddler.
“I was waiting to see a literal GRASS of sneakers y’all, I’m kinda disappointed.” Y/N muttered while laughing.
“Guess it’ll be another time. You’ll just have to come to our dorm then.”
“JAMES!?” Martin suddenly interrupted. “You’ve known her for a day and she’s already your best friend! Have you forgotten who I was? REALLY?”
“C’mon, Martin. She’s chill.” Keonho shrugged. “Your little ego will survive. I bet you’ll be drooling over her in a week.”
“Humm, no thanks—?” Y/N interjected.
“Ahhh, HELL NAHH!” Martin followed.
“Anyway. Since there’s no shoes, we could show you our songs… Cause we’re in the studio…” Seonghyeon whispered with intention.
“Bro, why’d you have to say studio this much—”
“That is a great idea, Seonghyeon!” Keonho smiled, while seeming objectively a bit crazy, or autistic, who knows. “We’d love to stay in the studio…”
Suddenly, the door opened in a loud crack. Everyone turned their head to the direction of this noise and saw a familiar figure.
Manager-nim was standing right in the frame, and seemed a bit startled to see this much people in the studio.
Well, it really wasn’t that big.
Y/N had seen a bit of it on social media, but she didn’t expect it to be this small. A leather couch was taking a quarter of the space of the room itself, and CORTIS banners were plastered on it. A rack of several guitars, probably Martin’s, was right next to it, and it nearly touched the glass door. And the desk took mostly half of the room’s space, with its three computers and its mixing boards. The soil could only be filled with some oriental designed carpet and a few plastic chairs, but no one could walk properly in here without stepping onto something.
“Hello, kids.” Manager-nim declared, onto something. “So you finally see the studio, Y/N. Do you like it?”
At that, she looked around, at these burger framed light lamps, at those nirvana vinyls on the wall, or at this little curtain right above the door, which Y/N was definitely trying to find an utility for.
“It’s very…” She thought for a moment, before finding the word. “Martin-ish.”
“Well, yeah, duh. I payed all of it.”
“And we thank you for that, my Martin.” The manager smiled, trying to ease his mind as much as he could.
“Sunbae, why’d you always call him by nicknames or personal pronouns?” Keonho asked with furrowed brows. “I wanna be your little Keonho too.”
“But you are my little Keonho.” He laughed. “What, you feel unfavored ?”
“No. Just asking, since he’s a literal giant and I’m technically the smallest in here.”
“James is, though.” Juhoon twitted.
“Whatever, you get it.”
“I don’t know, it just stuck to me when Martin was a trainee.” The manager simply declared. “He was there a while ago, it’s just a habit I guess.”
“Well, be it a habit for me.”
“Anyway! I wasn’t here for that.” He clapped both of his hands together.
“What for? Is there a problem?”Y/N asked quietly.
“Juhoon. James. Keonho. Seonghyeon. You have an unexpected schedule. You can only come in the studio tonight.”
Oh, so that was UNhate operation again.
“What schedule?” Martin asked, seeming utterly confused.
“Yeah, what schedule?” Y/N followed.
“Third album ID’s. Come with me, and you’ll go back afterwards.”
Third album ID’s? Martin thought. Since when?
“What?” Martin asked.
“Huh?” Seonghyeon followed.
“Argh… That’s too bad.” Juhoon muttered.
“Yeahh… I really wanted to hang around in the studio…” James complained as well.
“We’ll pick you guys up, when we come back here, okay?” Keonho proposed, with a smile on his face.
Does that mean…? Y/N reflexed.
“Hold on.”
The manager, who was preparing himself to leave with his members, turned his back after cursing used his breath, hoping Martin wouldn’t suddenly outburst.
“You’re seriously leaving me alone with HER?!”
“I don’t want to EITHER.” Y/N also followed.
“Well, someone’s gotta make sure she’s not leaking our secrets, no ?”
“What the FUCK! No! I don’t want to! I can’t!” He shouted with pleading eyes.
“Please, just choose another person to stay with me! Please…” Y/N started at her turn.
“Why’s it automatically me? Huh? Why am I the chosen one to stay with this crazy girl, when we’re literally FIVE!” He practically screamed.
“Who cares, Martin? My four boys are planned to schedule with third album ID’s, and you’re not.” The manager proclaimed with a serious tone. “Now, be mature for once and stay here.”
“But, Hyung—“
“No. Now, you shut up, Martin. You’ve already done enough, and we still haven’t talked about it, just the two of us.” He scolded with ease and authority at the same time. “You just listen to what I tell you if you don’t want me messing with you.”
“Keundee… Jeoiga nomu buseowa—“
“MARTIN!” He shouted, real angry this time. “It’s either you LISTEN to me and stop disrespecting this girl, or I simply drag you out of this studio myself!”
Martin pressed his hands on his eyes and rubbed them for a second. Was he trying not to cry? Y/N wondered. He didn’t really seem like the type of person to cry easily.
In fact, even online, she’d never seen him shed a single tear. Maybe it was a required perk to be a leader, she didn’t know. But she could detect how he’d put his emotions second most of the time. Or fake them with a smile, perhaps.
She didn’t really care anyway, so it didn’t really matter if Martin was a crybaby or not.
“Okay, fine.” He finally muttered, almost too quiet for Y/N not to hear it. “But you come back afterwards and pick us up.”
“We’ll do it as fast as we can, don’t worry, twinski.” Juhoon smiled calmly, perhaps to ease growing tensions with his manager.
“Thanks, Jju.”
“And, noona, we’re so sorry…” Keonho muttered with disappointment.
“It’s okay! It’s okay!” She bowed politely. “I deserve it, I guess. I’ve been a bitch, remember. And I’ll see you guys later anyway!”
“That, I don’t doubt in it.” Seonghyeon smiled.
“Later, I guess, then?” James asked.
“Later.” She smiled.
“Don’t fool around, Martin.” The manager warned for the last time.
“Arasso, arasso… Keunyang sajima-al lago.” He responded in Korean, seeming visibly annoyed.
Manager-nim offered him a concerned look for at least five good seconds. Y/N didn’t really know if it was out of worry or anger, maybe both. But it had send her shivers, she was sure of it.
And just like that, the door had closed. On one side of it, five people were clapping each others hands in celebration, for finally putting their plan into execution. On the other, two enemies were facing each other.
•••
And so there they were.
Martin was grumbling on his chair, seeming visibly upset and a bit embarrassed. It’s that, the room had gone silent for a whole minute, ever since the boys had left.
Y/N had settled comfortably on the couch, deciding she’d rather play little games on her phone and just wait until the other members arrived. She did not want to interact with him. And he certainly didn’t either.
“I’m gonna work outside the door.” Martin muttered in a serious tone.
And just like that, he’d taken his laptop under Y/N’s gaze, slowly and hesitantly, and he’d stood up to cross the distance.
When suddenly, a realization hit him when he was about to open the door.
“I can’t use my mic if it’s not on the desk.” He whispered, closing his eyes in embarrassment.
“C’mon, I won’t kill you.” Y/N complained. “I’m not gonna insult you because we’re in the same room.”
“And what tells you I’m not the one who will do it?” He turned on his heels to face her. “You’re always assuming you have the main hand on the table, when you can’t even hold a proper conversation without discriminating me.”
“Tell me where you’ve felt discriminated over the past five minutes, then?” She asked provocantly. “You’re genuinely just making shit up to piss me off at this point, Martin.”
“Except I’m NOT!” He responded defensively. “I’M being discriminated! My members are putting me behind because YOU got in all their heads!”
“What, is it my fault, then?”
“YES! IT IS!” He sat back on his chair and faced her. “You’ve been playing the dumb all day, yesterday, and with this DAMN vape too! You’ve been acting all nice as if you hadn’t been disrespectful! You sure know how to be privileged with this damn CORTIS access, huh?”
“But you don’t seem to copy that I’ve APOLOGIZED! I made progress, Martin, and you haven’t.”
“Why would I make progress when you’re this AGGRAVATING? Genuinely, you’re just here to irritate me.”
“What, so you’re not?” She laughed bitterly. “Cause Martin, there’s to say about that. You’ve been BEYOND mean with me ever since that day, and there’s no explanation! Not any!”
“It’s because you’re annoying!”
“And you’re immature! Listen, I stopped being insulting. I stopped. Look at you now!” She replied in defense. “You’re just here still arguing with yourself every time you can, when I don’t give a fuck!”
“I don’t give a fuck about you either!”
“Then stop being this aggressive, damnit.” She said blatantly. “Looks like you like me or something, when you’re like this with me.”
“WHAT?? There’s not any correlation whatsoever.”
“Whatever. Just stop being like this and work on your music.” She replied calmly.
At that, he looked in her eyes for a second. They were even brighter under the studio lights, he thought, and he hated to fancy it. She was looking at him with these pleading eyes and twitched eyebrows, and he wished he’d just ripped this expression with his hands or something. Or take her face in his palms, things like this.
Wait, no. Not like that. He immediately corrected his own mind.
“Nevermind.” He just declared and turned his chair back to his desk, his back now facing her.
He powered his laptop, and a beautiful purple light enlightened his face. She could only see him from the back, but it would be lying not to admit she enjoyed the view.
“Don’t you dare say the slightest word. I’m working.”
“Bla-bla. You’re childish.”
“And you’re in MY studio. So I’m deciding.”
“Oh, come on, Martin. We both know you’re not really the one who decides things in general.” She muttered while laughing.
He turned his chair to face her again, this time with furrowed eyebrows.
“What are you implying, exactly?” He asked, seeming visibly confused.
“I’m just saying. You don’t really feel like you’re the leader of the group.” She whispered. “Like, you’re always getting roasted and stuff… Made fun of…”
“I HAVE authority? The fuck? I’m the one who decides mostly everything for the album. What are you on about, you PRICK!”
“It’s just a factual statement, gosh. Stop being so aggressive over literally anything.” She replied as she rolled her eyes. “Chill out a bit, if you don’t want news about you being an asshole on dispatch.”
“Okay, I’m definitely not continuing this conversation.” He finally turned again in his chair, facing his laptops once again.
She looked at him again from the back, as questions filled her mind. One of them stayed, and she wanted to let it go on the open.
She didn’t know why she was this curious. Perhaps because she’d understand more as to why he was this virulent, or she was just bored.
But she still asked what kept turning around her brain.
“Does it hurt you, though?”
From where she was, she couldn’t see his expression, to his biggest delight. Because there was a reaction. It’s like his whole face lost its color, in a way.
It’s that he didn’t really expect such a question.
“What are you talking about?” He asked, though he’d already gotten an idea.
“The roasting, I mean.”
“Why do you care? It’s not your business.”
“I just wanna know.” She responded while shrugging.
He put his hands over his eyes again, to prepare himself for what he was thinking to respond. He did not want to look vulnerable by telling the truth. But, thinking of it, he wasn’t facing her right now, so she wouldn’t see his face.
Which is why, he decided to be honest.
“I mean, kinda.” He replied, trying to seem as calm as possible. “Time to time, yeah, it’s a bit annoying.”
“Why is it? Don’t you love being the center of the attention?”
“Stop, I’m not the pretentious-ass guy you pretend me to be.” He rolled his eyes, though she couldn’t see it. “I’m okay with being the center of the attention, but not like that. Like, I wanna be taken seriously.”
“But it’s funny. To see you like this on camera.” She admitted, then immediately corrected herself. “I mean, it was funny before I knew you were a wanker.”
“Yeah, well, not all the time.” He said calmly. “Sometimes I’m really okay with it, it’s fine. And right, it’s funny I guess. But sometimes I’m just really tired to be humiliated by the guys, lowkey.”
She hadn’t thought about it this way, but thinking of it, if she’d be in his shoes for a week, she wouldn’t like it all the time either. She’d get tired of it eventually, even somewhat hurt by the nagging.
“I see.” She contended herself to respond, and she could see his head moving in a nodding gesture.
Did their conversation take a rather deep turn, or was it just her?
“Anyway. I’ll let you work.”
At that, he didn’t respond. He simply took a last look at her from above his shoulder, observing how she’d taken her phone back and sat comfortably on the couch. His eyes flicked towards her face for a second, and he just nodded again, without really knowing why.
He turned his mind back to his music and began to work thoroughly. He was two songs away from finishing their EP. He’d already done four of them.
The first one was called POV. It talked about struggles of being an idol, namely the group’s difficulties when going abroad in airports.
The second one didn’t really have a name yet. It had a raspy tone and low basses, which made the song feel electro and housy at the same time. It talked about being famous, and the perks it brought.
The third one was called Yves. He’d wrote it during his trip to Partis, inspired. He’d loved the city so much that he’d decided to write something about it. He’d chosen the name because of the Yves Saint Laurent runway he’d gone to.
Now, he didn’t have the slightest idea of what was to come for the fourth song. Because here was the thing : it had the most beautiful melody. Something soft, a bit romantic, while still keeping CORTIS’ spirit, which meant no allusion of any relationships. Well, that was to say, CORTIS wasn’t really involved in any romantic relationship with anyone.
Mostly because they didn’t have time. Also because it was simply impossible to date when being an idol. And from Martin’s perspective : he was just way too focused on music and his passion to actually care about girls.
Maybe that’s why he never really liked anyone. He never even knew what he was like when he was in love. Was he affectionate and flirty, or hateful and provocative?
He honestly didn’t know, and though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, he couldn’t dare to dig further into it.
Because he knew what realization would make him sink deeper into the shit he was starting to come into.
“Can I ask you a question?” Y/N suddenly interrupted his reflecting time.
“What now?” He asked, while rolling his eyes. He didn’t like to be distracted, you see.
“Are you hungry?”
He turned from his chair without any hesitation and faced her to answer her question.
“Are you?” He asked back.
“I’m starving. Can we order something?”
Thing was, he’d never really eat when he’d make music. It just distracted him. He didn’t like the feeling of having things in his mouth when he was supposed to sing his heart out into a mic. And it made his face puffy most of the time, which he didn’t like.
Yeah.
“Huh, yeah. Do you want like… Kebab or something?” He simply responded, with a bored tone. And he took his phone in his hands, immediately uploading a food application.
“What? NO!” She yelled. “Kebab is DISGUSTING!”
At that, he immediately put his hand in his mouth and rubbed his face.
I just KNOW she said that on purpose. He thought.
“Okay there’s no way…” He muttered. “Now, you REALLY are just trying to get my members to like you instead of me!”
“What—”
“You know about the kebab beef? Huh! That’s why you’re taking their side! Goddamnit.” He erupted in anger. “I just KNOW for a fact you’re doing this to get yourself in my member’s HEAD! Just to annoy me, is it not?!”
“What the fuck are you talking about, Martin? Why are you so aggressive all of a sudden—”
“Because you PISS ME OFF!”
“And you’re DELUSIONAL!” She responded on the spot. “Look, I’ve been nice to you ever since we’ve been in that studio. I’ve been trying hard. WHY is it that you’re so ready to just get angry and do shit? WHY, tell me!”
“Do you want KEBAB, or NOT?!” He avoided the question as much as he could.
Is this how I am like? He thought.
“NO! I don’t want KEBAB! Just order Ramen or something.”
Is this how I feel? When I…
“Whatever, I’m not even hungry anyway. Food’s criminal.” He muttered. “Here, order what you want and then shut the fuck up.”
And he quickly gave her his phone, so fast Y/N would’ve thought it was almost on fire. She gave him a condescending look, obnubilated by his disrespectful behavior, and ordered the first thing that popped up on the app.
From now on, he knew.
He was in deep shit.
•••
They’d stood in silence for about ten minutes. Him, playing with his devices and boards. Her, trying her best not to look and glimpse a spoiler.
He was nervous.
He didn’t really know what he was supposed to act, now that a realization he wasn’t ready to understand yet had surfaced.
Should he keep being aggressive to her?
Because clearly, it only engraved his case.
Should he avoid her?
Because there was no way he’d speak to her properly.
What was the reason for such a behavior? Did it come from his unresolved trauma, or was it because of his job? Was he so aware of how much of a risk feeling such things could be, that it had turned him into evil whenever she’d be in his presence?
Because here was the thing. Feeling, and he wouldn’t explain it further, feeling wasn’t allowed in the industry. He’d have to be ruined, sacked, killed first to feel something.
And there was also this : he didn’t know much about her. He didn’t know where she came from, why she was in Korea, and how she’d got in his head, all while being this annoying, and a genuine illness to his existence.
He didn’t technically have a reason to feel.
Except he did, much more than he’d admit.
Mostly, he was curious. Despite the hatred, the contempt, and the pretension, he still wanted to know more about her. Maybe it was to get to trick her more, by glimpsing a few personal details to mock or insult her, he really wanted to think. But under this argument, there was a real intriguing desire to enjoy her, a desire he’d never admit.
Did he desire her?
He wasn’t sure. He wouldn’t word it akin desire.
It was surely just a breeze, he thought.
Because here was another thing : he was beyond tired, overworked to the bone, and malnourished. Surely he wasn’t comfortable in his life enough to content himself with basic feelings, such as friendship, passion, or laughter.
Breeze, in its whole, was perhaps simply a disguise, as to what exactly he’d been suffering from for a year, ever since he debuted.
Still, he was curious.
Which is why, he still declared, this time with the slight breeze of this new feeling waving over his head :
“What are you doing in Korea, by the way?”
It was not a “by the way.” He’d thought about asking this question for days. Ever since he heard her voice in that cafe. Ever since she’d said “jeogiyo” with the worst accent to ever exist.
She seemed pretty surprised, for she immediately rose from her seat to adjust her position. She blinked once, her eyebrows furrowing.
“Er…” She muttered hesitantly.
It’s that, she couldn’t really say “I ran away from my drug addicted parents and Korea was the cheapest flight”
Firstly, because she’d never confess a thing to the guy she hated the most in the world.
Secondly, because staying silent wouldn’t make it as real as it really was, she’d thought.
Witnessing her silence, Martin turned from his chair, again, to look at her properly. He didn’t know if it was out of boredom, or the slightest bit of empathy, though he’d had difficulties to believe in it, but he chose not to dig further into the question. She seemed visibly reluctant.
“Hey, I have a question.” He declared instead.
“What?” She immediately responded, her gaze meeting his.
“Look, I’ve been working on this song, and I know for a fact you have NO talent, but—”
“What the fuck does that even mean—“
Her voice was cut out by an unexpected loud BIP on Martin’s phone. It made them jolt instantly, and they both found themselves looking at each other, as if they’d discovered they were lost twins.
“Food.” Martin simply muttered.
“Ahhh!” She smiled at that, for the first time in his presence, and he simply watched.
They processed the information for about five seconds, in what felt like an eternal silence for them, looking deep into each other’s eyes.
“Well?” Martin interrupted the exchange.
“What?”
“What are you waiting for? It’s your food.” He simply said, as if he wasn’t the one who paid for it.
“What, so you’re not picking it up? You’re the man here, mate.”
“What the fuck? And let you play with my songs for even a MINUTE? Are you kidding?” He laughed bitterly.
“Bro, you were literally about to make me listen to your song. Like, thirty seconds ago.”
“I WASN’T?! C’mon, just go! Food’s gonna get cold.”
“Pff. You’re not even gonna eat anything.” She muttered with disappointment. “All diets and shit. I’ll never understand it.”
At that, he went silent and began playing with his dangly bracelet.
“Whatever. Just go and then we’ll talk music.”
“If you take, even the slightest bite from my ramen—”
“I won’t! FUCK! You really are SO annoying.” He complained with squinted eyes. “Just GO already!”
“Alright, alright, party pooper.” And she rose from her seat, taking his phone in the hand through the way. “Imma need this to confirm order.”
“Don’t make selfies or something, I don’t have storage.” He whispered.
“As if you were privileged enough to have my face in your gallery!” She snorted in the most inelegant way possible. “Come back to earth, you butthole.”
“STOP fucking PLAYING with me, and just GO take your FOOD! Damnit.” He shouted then, waiting for her to finally open that glass door.
“Pff.” She simply replied.
In the span of a second, she’d closed the door with Martin’s phone in her hand, and had started a walk towards HYBE’s unending corridors, to the first floor of the headquarters.
Meanwhile, Martin sat still on his chair, his hands trembling and his temple sweating. He didn’t know why, nor did he care, but it still felt slightly weird and comfortable at the same time.
But did he know, he’d accidentally be holding her waist in his sleep an hour later ?
Surely, he did not, otherwise he’d gone downstairs to receive the food himself.
